Until FK and I are boarding a plane to sunny Paradise Island! HURRAH!! I’m quite excited–I have been checking out the Club Med website and found that the resort is a series of old historic homes and mansions that were turned into a very cool Club Med village. I can’t wait to be sitting on the beach, enjoying the sunshine and relaxing with Frank!! YAY!

Preparing for our trip, we had a few last minute things to pick up. After work, Frank picked me up and we went to the mall. We wandered aimlessly, picked up a few items, ate dinner in the food court and just enjoyed the people watching.

Which brings me to the 15 yr old with her pants down to her knees wearing a thong. Okay, I exaggerate. She was wearing fashionable low rise jeans. And a white thong. I know this because about 4 inches of her thong were exposed. I guess this is the norm.

But then there was the girl that just cut to the chase and wore her red underwear OVER her jeans. That was pretty cunning.

All of this really just means that we are not going to have kids for at least one more year now. On top of how long we were going to wait anyway. Hrmph!

On another note.

Last night Frank was in desperate search for his beloved sandles. He was searching high and low throughout the entire apartment, absolutely focused on finding the old brown birks. Well, after some time, I hear him grumble, “Well, this is what stinks about being married.” My ears perked up.

“Excuse me?” I asked. “What did you just say about being married?”

“Well, see,” he said, “When I was single, I could always find stuff because it was right where I left it. Now, who knows where you put it*.”

“Whatever,” I said dismissively. Then after about 2 seconds of thought, I added, “Check your car.”

Frank’s car is a notorious final resting place for many things. Tupperware. Clothing. Documents of any variety. Which is why I wasn’t surprised to see Frank come back into the house ten minutes later with his arms full of clothing and, of course, his birks. He sheepishly looked at me, holding out 3 pairs of dockers, a dress shirt and two well-loved birks.

“What do you say, Frank?” I demanded (smiling, of course).

“You were right,” he admitted.

Which is how it always is, isn’t it?

That’s what I thought. 🙂

*Portions of the conversation may have been slightly altered. But you get the idea…