quick like a bunny

I must type fast – .50 per minute to blog but how can I not? It has become such a part of everything – Wes discovered pictures of our packed clothes on the digital camera and he and GMB made merciless fun of me, but they’re for the blog! It’s all for you, people! He understands, really – he posed for a picture in his life jacket on… well, you’ll have to wait until I get back for that one.

I really can’t explain why this makes me so happy. Truly, there have only been a few days in my life when I feel as happy as I do on Day One of a cruise. I just had a little pre-dinner pizza by the side of the pool while reading a good book (John Iriving’s new one), watching Barcelona grow smaller as we sailed away, and listening to the musical stylings of some Canadian foursome doing such cheesy, wondrous classics as Sweet Caroline, Margaritaville and Lionel Ritchie’s Hello (sans singing – classy!). It bothers me a little that it makes me tear up – it’s just that I was… SO DAMN HAPPY.

It is worth noting that the happiness – the tearing up, crying kind of happiness I experienced poolside – was only possible because my husband was experiencing his own happy place (the gym – what a freak!). If he had been there, it would not hae been happy. It would have been an exercise in mockery as he laughed at my vulnerable bliss.

We haven’t seen much of Barcelona yet, as we were too jetlagged and were accompanied by a jetlagged troll impersonating our child. We have two days there at the end. For now, we are sailing for Marseille. Bon soir, mes amis. I’ll be dressing for dinner shortly, then checking out the juggler.