ISLAND REPORT

I went to Bikram. It’s the thing I want out of every vacation and holiday—get me to a studio—and it just so happens that there is a studio ten minutes from where we are staying. And it opened three days ago. So they were thrilled to have me. Because I was one of two students in class. They need bodies in there. And I will be getting my body back there a couple more times before we head home. Good thing I brought one whole yoga outfit with me. (It's my tried-and-true tactic of ensuring that I'll go to class more than once. Murphy's.)

After yoga I learned how to make an origami bow. Like to put on a package. One of Jim’s Facebook people posted a video on how to make a darling bow out of paper, he showed me the video, I produced origami paper out of thin air and now have a new skill. Quick, give me a gift to wrap and decorate.

The kids met a turtle today. We went to this one beach—drive three or four miles, turn left, drive a mile or so and turn right when you see mailbox 56, park at a 45-degree angle next to the rock wall, walk past the dumpster, and then turn to your left—in hopes of spotting things with flippers and shells, and a friendly local fella was like, “Hey, there’s a turtle that lives in this little cove. Here, have some fish, shake it in the water, and he’ll come over to eat it. You can pet him.” So the fam did just that. And I realized why the turtles in Finding Nemo are so chill. Because sea turtles are chill. This’n mosied over, snacked on white fish, nibbled Dustin’s toes, let the kids stroke his head and shell, and then the reptilian dude floated away.

Also, we saw lava goats.

On our drive home we came to the conclusion that dinner would happen at the Tommy Bahama restaurant.

“Do we have to, like, dress up?” Josie asked.

“We better not ‘cause I didn’t bring anything decent,” I replied.

“I just need to put on some real shorts,” Jim said.

“I’d like to put on some underwear,” Dustin added.


[Insert jolly laugh track.]

“Is anyone in this car wearing underwear?” Jim asked.

Silence.

So we got back to the house and everyone ditched their swimwear, added underwear, redressed, and we walked to the restaurant.

When I went to the restroom before dessert I discovered that my underwear were on backwards. I didn’t fix them.

Dessert was everything. I do mean everything. Our waiter brought out the dessert tray and described all of it in such a way that we had to order one of each. Chocolate this. Chocolate that. Key lime pie. Butterscotch pudding. Pina colada something. Pineapple creme brûlée. All five of us are going to look stunning in swimsuits tomorrow with our bellies poking out all malnourished-Somalian-kid style.