I ate too much, spiked my blood sugar levels and then beached myself on the sand in a red one-piece swimsuit. I have one more trip left in me, but before I jet off to yet another exotic locale (read: a place where they let me mix my pralines in nachos), here’s what you need to do before summer’s out — and those damn public school buses are back on the streets endangering our nation’s children:
1) Eat a crabcake sandwich alone by a window. When my Pretend Husband and I went to Virginia Beach in late June, he had to work for a few hours a day. (Technically, I was stowing away on his business trip.) That left his Pretend Wife alone to forage on the oceanfront boardwalk. Waterman’s Surfside Grille was there for me like a willing, supple-skinned pool boy. My server Jessica gave me a crabcake sandwich with meat fresh from the Chesapeake Bay. It tasted as if the heat of the ocean cooked the crab and Jessica just plucked it out of the water ready to eat. I topped off lunch with a piece of cool Key Lime Pie. Then I fell into a coma at The Schooner Inn, a sleepy hotel with loud Hibiscus-patterned comforters.
2) Have your Pretend Husband wake you with an upper. I finally emerged from my coma not from the brightness of my sheets, but because Pretend Husband burst through the door, told me to hold out my hand, and put cinnamon toast popcorn from Jody’s Popcorn into my palm. I was able to sit up and face yet another obstacle: Dinner.
3) Make your own shitty pralines. Pretend Husband and I were going to take a day trip to Charleston one weekend in July, but then the forecast called for rain before we left my house. What to do? Find a recipe for pralines and then attempt to make them in your own kitchen. Your bitter anger and resentment that you are not in Charleston at River Street Sweets will overheat the praline batter. You will be left with a wet bag of crap that smells like boiled dark brown sugar and broken dreams. You’ll still have a blast watching Reefer Madness with Greek subtitles while inhaling decadent homemade nachos.
4) Have a summer romance. Make out in a swimming pool. Get caught in the afternoon rain. Share a banana split. A real one, not a sex thing. This is the sex thing: Do what the kids call smooshing in the privacy of your own home or in a public restroom during the intermission of a play in the park. The kids are too young to call that “The George Michael.”
5) Realize vacation is a state of mind. If you are too lazy to shave your legs and stuff yourself into a swimsuit, tell people you have a moral objection to grooming because that’s what society wants you to do. You are not a kissing doll; you are a human woman. Then take to your patio in a pair of underwear that you think doubles as bathing suit bottoms. Go eat, drink (a cold Frozen Screwdriver with extra Peach Schnapps) and be hairy.
*A big thank you to whomever searched “lusty fat lady” and found my blog. Kisses to you.