Block Party!

I'm not sure who coined the phrase 'when life gives you lemons, make lemonade', but said person was misinformed. Jameson's Amazing Med School Adventure, as I'd taken to calling our time on the island, was taking it's toll on the family. The only interest I had in lemonade was the kind mixed with vodka in a tall glass of ice... and possibly delivered poolside by a steamy Cuban. 

I was off alcohol because of pain medication for my foot. It was still draped in a moon boot and now smelled like a middle school boys locker room because island temps never dropped below 80 degrees. I'd convinced myself the moon boot time was like a detox. I couldn't drink chardonnay and there was no Krispy Kreme on the island. Maybe if I did the Hollywood Cleanse once I got the boot off I'd be Team Aniston thin (Team Jolie was a tad much).

Jameson was studying for his Block Exams which meant Grey and I would be lucky to even SEE him before exams were over. I always used this time to clean our pint-sized condo and catch up on work, usually in that order since clutter-free living was my mantra. This time, however, Grey asked me to get souvenir t-shirts for his friends who'd be on the island the next day on a cruise ship. I reasoned since I shouldn't be on my foot to clean, the least I could  do was drive into Maho to hit the souvenir shop across from the pharmacy.

I locked the apartment door, the outer door and hobbled down 2 flights of stairs to our island hooptie.  I stalled before getting in the car.  3 weeks before a coconut had fallen from a tree and cracked our windshield. We'd been to the Nissan dealership, a garage, a windshield shop, the junkyard and even called some woman named "Sara the Car Chic" to see about a replacement. Not happening anytime soon.  Lemonade?  I think not.  I made sure the Gorilla tape was secure on the spiderwebs before getting in.

The drive into Maho was uneventful. When I drove through the intersection where Grey and I had seen the dead guy in the middle of the road, I didn't shudder. Not at all.  I parked my car in the covered parking and hobbled through the shaded entrance out on to the tiled walk.  This stretch of the island was specially designed with vacuums that sucked money right out of your wallet. 

Hobbling into the Lord & Hunter shop, I did a double-take. In front of me was a woman, probably close to my mom's age, wearing a boot just  like mine and carrying the Coach Legacy Tote in citrus. I barely noticed the tote. Barely.  She smiled at me and said, "We must have the same designer." 

I laughed with her and asked how much longer she had in the boot.  2 weeks.  I asked if she was vacationing. No. She had, along with her best friend, brought her son (and 3 of his "closest" friends) to the island to tour AUC and look for housing.  With the little footing I had, I tackled her, stowed the tote and started beating her head with the polished conch shell with SXM in gold calligraphy. Well, in my mind I tackled her and beat some sense into her. Instead I said, "Wow! My husband is a student. Small world."

"He's a student?"

"I  know, we're old. I get it. I get that look a lot."

"No, sweetie, I wasn't thinking you were old. I was thinking I wanted to pick your brain. We're staying at the Sonesta. You should come over for drinks by the pool."

Annnnnnnnd.... cue thoughts of the hottie Cuban delivering me vodka lemonades. Gawd. Block week couldn't end soon enough.

Before thoughts about my mysterious Cuban went 50 Shades, I heard the distinct sounds of early-20's guys walking into the shop. Just as I was  about to turn, one of the future Nobel Prize winners shouted at my back, "Yo, Cam! Your mom's in here."

I looked at the door just as Cam and his other friend walked through the entrance to Lord & Hunter.

"Douche. That's not my mom," Cam said while shoving his friend and walking around me.  He looked right at his mom, the woman in the matching moon boot, and spit back, "This is my mom. You're tossed!"

The guys laughed, Cam's mom smiled and gave me a small shrug and then Cam's "tossed" friend continued to dig his grave, "Oh shit, man. She looks just like your mom. Sorry, ma'am."  I have been called a lot of things, but "ma'am" is by far the worst.

I hobbled out of Lord & Hunter empty handed, made it back to my hooptie and proceeded to hit my head against the steering wheel over and over and over.  I had a hole in my windshield, couldn't go to the pool because of  my foot, couldn't run because of my foot and couldn't drink alcohol because of my foot.  Who was I kidding with the running stuff? Well, I could 'run' to the store to buy some Chardonnay.  That seemed like a reality I could get on board with. I drove out of the covered parking and cruised on home.  Lemonade? Bah!