2003 was a wild one

I love being home, sleeping in my own bed, sitting on the floor in front of the TiVo eating dinner at 10pm, making paper. But my natural tendencies towards chaos and turmoil took over (again) after an email from dad, who was sailing with his friend, Carol, which said "wish you were here. Everything is in French!" I had two other trips already planned, (not to mention those pesky taxes), so I initially said NO WAY...but then some fiendish fever took over my brain, I called American Airlines to cash in a few frequent flyer miles and three days later, I was on my way to the Caribbean!

I missed my connection in San Juan, but AA put me up in a hotel where I pretended to be French to avoid the tacky Americans. The next day I flew on to Guadeloupe. Dad looked tan and healthy, and Carol was nice—they made a good sailing team. We provisioned up (diet coke, rum, Nutella and french bread) and did some day sails around the island. I learned nada about sailing per se, other than being reminded that it makes me throw up, but I had a GREAT time. We sampled the local delicacies in Basse Terre (many made with the local rum) and I managed to hitch us a ride back to the marina...on a school bus. It was too rough to go ashore at Pigeon Island, so we sat on the boat, gazing wistfully at shore with all that fresh french bread out of reach. We drank pina coladas as the sun set in the bay of Deshaies.

Finally, we made the crossing to Antigua, on a gorgeous day. Dinner in English Harbour was memorable, even without french bread, and the next morning my week was OVER! There was some “friction” at customs, since I’d never legally “entered” the country, but the less said about THAT, the better, I am sure.

From sea level, back home to 4,000’, and the very next day, I was at 12,000’ for the annual NAST snooze-a-rama, I mean, “schools of drama,” conference. It was held at Snowbird resort in Utah, and thanks to some creative scheduling, there was time to hit the slopes! The last time I skied, I’d broken bones, so this was the proverbial getting back on the horse. I’m thrilled to say it came right back and I actually cried with joy—I called mama and thanked her for making me get on that &^$*! ski bus every Saturday for 6 years when I was a kid!! Me and Scott even blew off the final day’s presentation to ski again. I stayed an extra night in Salt Lake and forced myself to do my taxes. The free cocktails at the Embassy Suites certainly helped.

Home on the 14th, mailed them on the 15th and on the 16th, it was off to Grand Rapids for Easter with Erin’s family and mom. I got to ride Erin’s horse—another thing I hadn’t done in years...and of course, the beast decides to throw me….well, ok, he went right and I went left, but I didn’t hit the dirt. I managed to attach myself to the fence, a la Spiderman, and Prince pulled away from under me...Erin, a talented horsewoman herself, was impressed with my graceful dismount. There was no getting back on THIS proverbial horse!

oh the rest of the year was great too....but that's enough reminiscing for now....