Catalina Island Adventures - Chapter 9

Once again, thanks for tuning into JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective! If you are tuning in for the first time, you will want to read my posts in order to follow the storyline. Please start with the first post. I have numbered the chapters in hopes of making it easy to follow.

In the upcoming chapter, Rafael's dare devil ways may get Jessica and Rafael kicked off their very first zip line! Get in touch with your adventurous side and experience what it is to zip line by following along with Raf and Jess. 

HAPPY READING!


____________________________________________________________________________________________


Chapter 9: One, two, JUMP!

There isn't anything quite like it: that moment right before you step off the edge of a cliff to experience your first zip line. The anticipation has been building; courage is running strong. There is trust in the tour guides and trust within the mechanical soundness of the contraption you are harnessed to.  Or, at least you are telling yourself over and over that those things are true.

“Are you ready, Jessica?” Brian asks me as he pulls on the rope that is attached to the harness around my legs.

As he pulls it, I rise up to the stepping block. When I’m ready, all I do is step off and I will go flying down the mountain side at 70 miles per hour. He pulls me up so high that I can barely touch the stepping block with the tips of my toes. All of my weight is being held by the harness around my legs. Every muscle that I pulled during that darn Rugby game with all the professional athletes start to tighten up again, causing me to cringe just a little.

“Dang it,” I think to myself. This is going to hurt like hell. This is probably the worst thing that I can do for my recovering body, aside from playing another game of Rugby. Still, I’m here; I have a threshold for pain and I’m dying to fly around the Catalina mountain tops like Superwoman.

“Ready!” I yell back. I quickly glance at Rafael who is beaming with the same excitement we all feel.

Brian moves out of my way and I use my long legs to take a giant step off the cliff.

“Woa! Holy mother of…ahhhh!” I scream just a little as I start to glide down the mountain. Remembering the zip lining instructions, I pull my legs up into the cannon ball position. As soon as I do this, my speed triples.

“Wooohooo! I’m flying!” I say to the trees. No one else can hear me. It’s just me, nature and the zip line.

The ballerina in me is dying to point my toes and try some dance moves in the air. Yet, I know that we are supposed to remain in the cannon ball position until we see Larry, who is waiting on the other side of the zip line to help stop us. So I remain a cannon ball and simply enjoy the pure exhilaration of flying.

Before I know it, I see Larry waving his arms so I drop my legs and pray to God that I don’t take Larry out on my way in. I start to get a little nervous because I’m flying at Lord knows what speed and I don’t see how I will slow down enough to make a smooth landing.

Larry pushes a wooden block down the zip line. It meets with my harness and shakes my whole body. It slows down my speed immensely and I am able to put my feet down in the landing area while Larry catches me so that I don’t fall.

“Don’t forget to turn at the end,” Larry says to me, but the high that I’m feeling from my first zip lining experience makes it impossible for my brain to process anything but the endorphins and adrenaline that are pumping through me. 

“Are you OK? How was it?” Larry asks me, looking a little concerned.

Realizing that I haven’t spoken since I arrived on this side of the zip line, I try to make my mouth work.

“Huh? What? Oh! It was amazing!” I finally answer.

Larry smiles and focuses his attention on the zip line once again. Rafael is coming down next. I join the group of chatty zip liners who are all sharing what their first experience was like. I just want to watch Rafael. He loves this kind of thing.

Suddenly, I hear Larry yelling at Rafael unlike he did with any of us. Clearly, he is really concerned about what Rafael is doing.  I squint my eyes to see what Rafael is up to. Oh no. He is trying to do the “Superman.” This is where you stretch your arms out in front of you and your legs behind you, so that you look like Superman flying. Apparently, this move is illegal to do on the zip lines because it can cause the zip line to become unbalanced and the zipliner could get stuck in the middle of the zip line, which is what we are all trying to avoid.

I know that the “Superman” move is illegal because Rafael asked the tour guides about it before we started. They told him it was illegal but there was one zip line that people could safely do it on, and they wouldn’t say anything. This isn’t the right zip line for doing the “Superman.”

Great. We still have five zip lines to go and Rafael is going to get us kicked out on the very first one. This is pretty typical. Rafael is an adventurous dare devil who enjoys trying physically challenging tasks everywhere we go. I’m used to it and find it rather entertaining. Larry the tour guide doesn’t seem so amused.

Well, if Rafael gets himself kicked out, he will be leaving by himself. I’m finishing this tour. Still, I really hope he charms his way out of this one. Zip lining around the mountains won’t be nearly as fun without my partner in crime.

“Put your legs into a cannon ball!” Larry yells at the top of his lungs for the third time.

Rafael is finally close enough to hear him and puts his legs into a cannon ball seconds before he is supposed to put his feet down to land.

Superman is beaming with one of the largest grins I’ve seen when he lands.

“That was GREAT!” he yells. “YEAH!”

Then Rafael notices that Larry is shaking his head in a disapproving manner. Oh boy. Here it comes. Rafael is going to get kicked out. I start to muster up all my cute girl, he-didn’t-mean-it-and-will-never-do-it-again energy to work on the tour guide. I’m pretty good at getting us out of trouble as I’ve had a lot of practice.

“What?” Rafael asks Larry. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You did the Superman. The Superman is illegal on this zip line. We told you that you can only do it on the last one,” Larry states.

“Oh!” Rafael says in surprise. “I thought this was the zip line we could do tricks on, since it’s the smallest one.”

“No,” Larry replies. “It’s the last one.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Rafael says with an incredible amount of sincerity. The fact that he could very well be booted from the rest of this adventure is sinking in. I can see the worry in his eyes.

“I really thought we could do tricks on this zip line. I’ll do the cannon ball from now on, I promise,” he says.

Now, some may think that Rafael knew what he was doing was wrong. All of us heard the conversation about illegal moves prior to the tour. But what I know about Rafael is that he has selective hearing, especially when he is excited.

Rafael’s innocence is pretty convincing, but just to be sure, I put a supporting hand on Rafael’s back, smile my kindest smile, and say to the tour guide, 

“We understand the rules now. It won’t happen again.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Will Raf get kicked off the zip line? Will Jessica continue zip lining without him? Please come back for Chapter 10 to see what happens! 

Catalina Island Adventures Part V

Welcome back and thanks for tuning into JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective! If you are tuning in for the first time, you will want to read my posts in order to follow the storyline. Please start with the first post. I have numbered the chapters in hopes of making it easy to follow.

In the upcoming chapter, Rafael, Jessica and a small group of Catalina Island adventurers discover the meaning of life as they prepare to jump off of Catalina's highest mountains.

HAPPY READING!

Chapter 8: The Meaning of Life

The Pavilion Hotel is everything I dreamed it would be and more! Well, the bath is not a Jacuzzi bath, but short of that our room is perfect. Everything is modern, clean and new looking.  The bed is fluffy and the décor says “luxury beach hotel”.  It’s lovely.  

We have just under an hour before our scheduled zip line tour at 4:00 p.m. and I decide that’s enough time to squeeze in the bath that I’ve been wanting for several days. Rafael runs to get snacks while I start to soak in the hot, hot water. 

“Ahhh,” I think to myself. “This is what I’m talking about!”

Just as I’m starting to doze off into a peaceful bliss, Rafael bursts back into the room. We have twenty minutes to get to the other side of the island. I make a promise to the bathtub that I’ll be back soon, throw some clothes on, and run out the door with Rafael. 

I’ve never been on a zip line before and I’m not exactly sure of what to expect. Before scheduling it, Rafael asked if I was afraid of heights. Sharks yes, heights no. Of course, I’ve never propelled down a piece of wire hanging 500 feet above the ground at 45 miles per hour. There is a small part of me that is nervous and wondering how long this contraption has been around and how its safety is rated, but still, I am more excited than fearful. 

If I could choose to have one superhuman power it would definitely be having the ability to fly. This may be as close as I’ll ever get to flying, so I embrace my adventurous spirit. It is important for me to live life and each day to its fullest and therefore I try never to walk away from opportunities such as this zip line. 

“Are you nervous?” asks the tour guide as he straps the harness onto my legs.

“Not at all,” I answer, beaming with confidence. 

I may be over exaggerating my courage at this point but I noticed a young girl, who will be zip lining tandem with her mother, watching me closely. In hopes that she won’t be afraid, I want to set a good example. I smile and wave at the girl with excitement. She smiles back and puts her harness on with the same amount of confidence that I showed. Kids sure do follow the examples set to them. 

“Are you nervous?” the guide asks as he straps the mother in. 

What kind of question is that to ask everyone? I mean, if we weren’t nervous before, he is making us think about it now. Hasn’t he heard of the power of suggestion? Clearly, he’s never worked in marketing.  Maybe I should slip him my business card. 

“Yes!” the mother cries in response. “I’m terribly nervous!”

Great job, Mr. Tour Guide. Now everyone in the group is staring at this poor woman and she is not only terrified but also embarrassed. 

As he tightens her harness I can’t help but notice his massive arm muscles. The boy has guns. I suppose if I am putting my life in the hands of this guide while we are hanging from cliffs, I should care more about his physical capability than his communication skills, or lack thereof. 

“Don’t worry,” he says to the woman, offering her assurance. “You’ll be fine. 

And surprisingly, these simple words spoken from him were quite calming to the lady, and to me.

The woman sat down on the bench next to me. 

“Hi, I am Jessica," I say to her, offering my hand to shake. 

She shakes my hand and says, 

“Hi, I am Mary. It’s nice to meet you.”

The middle aged, Asian woman didn’t look like a Mary to me. I suppose that just goes to show that you never know about people until you have a conversation. 

“Ya know,” I tell her, “my mom went on one of these zip lines in Hawaii and just loved it.”

I’m guessing that my mom is only a little older than Mary and I’m hoping that she might be able to relate to my mom’s experience.

“She was super scared before she went down the first zip line,” I continue. “But after she realized how easy and fun it is, she was having too good of a time to be worried.”

This isn’t one hundred percent true. My mother did zip line in Hawaii and love it, but she wasn’t for one second afraid of it. 

Mary smiled and nodded at me. I’m guessing that she is too shaken up to talk much. 

“I hope so,” she answers and grabs onto her husband’s hand tightly. 

“My daughter is really nervous too, aren’t you, Katie?” Mary says and looks toward the girl that didn’t flinch while putting her harness on. 

She doesn’t look that worried to me, but I think Mary wants some company in the chicken-coop.

Katie shrugs and sits down on the bench next to her mother. Something tells me she’ll be just fine. 

After an extensive and mandatory lesson on how to operate the zip line and what to do if you get stuck in the middle of it, which is essentially not panic, we head toward the top of a mountain in a bus. 

Our guides, Larry and Brian, are trying to make small talk with the group as we ride upwards. I think they are attempting to gain our trust and help people relax. Almost everyone is completely ignoring them. The passengers seem really focused on the upcoming event. 

“Now if you have any questions,” Larry says, "please go ahead and ask us. We know all about the plant life, animals, history of the land, the nearby ocean…ask us anything,” he states.

It’s so quiet on the bus you can pretty much hear the crickets. 

“Anyone have any questions yet?” Larry continues without anyone seeming to notice that he is speaking. 

After it seems apparent that no one has any real questions, I ask:

“Do you know the meaning of life, Larry?”

He laughs and smiles at me, thankful for an acknowledgment of his existence. 

“42,” he answers with certainty. 

Being a philosophy nerd, I’ve asked several people this question before. Their answers are usually quite amusing and insightful to me. With all the individuals I’ve asked, no one has ever had such a quick, short and certain answer before. 

“42?” I ask with a tone that implies that there’s not quite enough information for me to understand his point. 

“42,” he restates. 

“It’s a theory about the universe and the meaning of life. Check out Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy,” Larry says. “It’s a great book.” 

“Any other questions?” he asks the group. 

Hm. This guy is pretty certain that he just answered my meaning of life question correctly and is ready to move onto the next question. I make a mental note to check out the book and decide to trust this guy’s intelligence. At least he has thought about the meaning of life. 

Between Larry’s brains and Brian’s bronze, I’m pretty confident that we’ll still be alive at the end of the day, and this is a good thing. Mary, on the other hand, is not so sure. 

“I’m really, really nervous!” she tells everyone on the bus. 

I start to wonder if she’s going to back out. Her daughter, who I am guessing is about eight-years-old, looks fearless.

“It’s OK,” she tells her mother. “This is going to be so fun!”

I decide that I like this girl. 

“I don’t know…” Mary answers her daughter with much doubt in her voice.

Our group of about ten people chit chats as we climb the mountain in the bus. This is much easier than hiking. It’s too bad they don’t have any of these buses in Big Sur.

Rafael and Larry share a few jokes while Brian sits quietly in the front of the bus.  At about 4:45 p.m. we reach the top of what seems like a really tall mountain.  This is it. It’s time to jump.

Thank you for reading JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective. Please tune in next time to see if the team of islanders survive the jump!

Catalina Island Adventures Part IV

Hello and welcome back to JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective. If you are tuning in for the first time, you will want to read my posts in order to follow the storyline. Please start with the first post. I have numbered the chapters in hopes of making it easy to follow.

Today you will find out what happens to Rafael and Jessica while they are kayaking out in the open sea without ever taking a kayaking lesson. How do they manage the shark infested waters?

Chapter 7: Luxury Hotels, Kayaks, and Sharks, Oh My!

Yesterday was a lazy, lazy day. To make up for it, we are going to try and cram as much activity into one day as possible. While there is much on the agenda, I am focused on the luxury hotel that we will be checking into at 3:00 p.m. for our last night on the island. We keep walking past it, and it is ridiculously posh.

The Pavilion Hotel is by far the nicest hotel on the island. From the outside, it looks like a private country club where only really rich members get to hang out. There are stylish and comfy chairs underneath beautiful designer umbrellas. I didn’t even know they made designer umbrellas until I saw these beauties.

The Pavilion members walk around in sharp clothes, holding wine glasses and cigars. The women are gorgeous and the men appear to be quite wealthy and important. The Pavilion hotel is the VIP spot on the island and pretty soon we’ll be part of its exclusiveness.  I can’t wait.

Nevertheless, I don’t want to let on that I am trying to imagine what the bathtubs look like inside the hotel rooms. I am just as excited as Rafael to go kayaking, jump off cliffs, and maybe even fit some rock climbing in.

We pack up, check out of the At Water Hotel and head over to The Pavilion Hotel. Goodbye eco-grooviness, hello bathtubs!

“You may check your luggage around the corner,” the hotel clerk tells us. “Check-in time is three o’clock.”

We’ve got some time to kill before I can take a bath. Rafael checks our luggage and we head toward the kayaking spot, which is on the opposite side of the island. That may sound like a long distance, but it’s a rather small island. It will only take us about fifteen minutes to walk there.

I’m wearing my black, string bikini today and some new shorts that I got while on the island. I packed a giant bag with thousands of outfits and didn’t pack simple board shorts, even though I knew I was going kayaking. Oh well. I just hated having another excuse to shop.

Rafael had picked out some shorts that read “Catalina Island” across the butt. Being thirty and sophisticated this year, I thought they might be a little too teenagerish for me. Rafael insisted that they were perfect, so I bought them.

“How does my butt look in these shorts?” I ask Rafael, as we are walking toward the kayaks.

It’s a loaded question, I know. I love asking Rafael questions like these. He actually answers pretty honestly and will usually tell me if I look ridiculous.

“Your butt looks great!” he answers, and smacks it to prove his point.

OK then. I will walk with confidence and pretend as though I don’t notice that everyone is reading my butt.

We check in and get our kayak. Because he is so anxious to get on the water, Rafael assures our guide that we’ve both kayaked before and don’t need the tutorial. The last time I kayaked was over two years ago and I could really use a refresher course but remain quiet since Rafael seems to know what he is doing.

“Alright, just hang onto your paddles and I’ll give you guys a push!” says the bleached blond, tan, surfer looking boy that helped us into our kayak. It must be such a rough summer job.

And we’re off!

Now, the last time I kayaked was in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. My boyfriend at the time had a condo on a private beach. There was a little shack on the beach where a few kayaks and snorkeling gear could be rented from an old, sleepy Mexican man who never seemed to take into account the mood of the ocean before renting his gear to a tourist. He’d rent kayaks if the waves were crashing and wild, just as easily as he’d rent them when it was calm and peaceful. Of course, the first time I kayaked, the ocean was raging and spit us back onto shore a few times before finally pulling us out to the deep sea.

It was a full body work out just trying to stay above water and alive on our kayak in Cabo. Simon, my now ex-boyfriend, loved it. He also loved military combat and a number of other life-endangering activities as well. Where do I find these guys?

After kayaking in stormy Cabo waters, I am a wee bit traumatized. All I remember about my first kayaking experience is a racing heartbeat, holding my breath, wondering what the medical system was like in Mexico, panicking, and a tormenting boyfriend who liked to joke that he saw a shark fin. Very funny.

But we are not in Cabo now. We are in Catalina Island waters and I suspect it will be much safer.

“Turn your paddle around, Babe!” Rafael yells from behind me in our kayak. “You’re using it backwards!”

I knew I should have asked for a refresher course. It’s not as though I’ve ever been properly shown how to kayak. Although, when you look at what’s involved, how hard could it really be? There’s just a boat and a paddle. I can do this.

“Are we supposed to paddle in sync or take turns?” I ask Rafael, right after our guide pushes us into the water.

“What?” he yells.

Oh, right. I’m sitting in front of him and facing forward while going out into the ocean. It’s a little hard to hear each other.

“Do we paddle in sync or take turns?” I ask him again, much louder. “Do I paddle right when you paddle right, or do I paddle right when you are paddling left?”

“I don’t remember!” Rafael shouts to me.

Great. Just great. I’m not sure if it is how he was raised or if it’s just his personality but one area that my boyfriend excels in is bullshitting. He will say whatever he needs to say to have the end result be what he desires and people believe him. I believe him, which, given the amount of times he’s bullshitted me doesn’t say much about my intelligence, sadly.

So here we are heading out to sea, both of us completely clueless about how to kayak.  I’m sitting in the front which means I’m steering the kayak and should probably know how to turn it.

“If I want to turn right do I paddle on the right side or the left side?” I loudly ask Rafael.

There’s silence from Rafael. I’m pretty sure that he heard me, but just in case, I ask again:

“BABE!” I yell, almost as loudly as I can. “HOW DO I TURN?”

Everyone on shore hears me this time, including our guide who was under the impression that we know what we are doing. Rafael must have heard me.

“I think if you want to turn right, you paddle on the right side and if you want to turn left, you paddle on the left side,” he answers in a tone of uncertainty.

He “thinks”? Oh, why do I ever trust this man? He relies on his charm to make up for some of the things he does that drive me bananas.

Desperately needing to turn left in order to keep us from running into a net on the right, I start paddling on the left side of the boat, as Rafael said. But the kayak starts turning the opposite direction and we are getting closer and closer to being tangled in some sort of fishing net.

“I think you’re wrong!” I tell Rafael. “I think if I want to turn right, I paddle on the left side!”

As I tell him this, I thrust the paddle onto the left side of the boat, paddling as hard as I can. For the first time, I’m really glad that I’ve been using the rowing machine at the gym. My rowing-machine-trained-muscles react quickly enough to turn us to the left and away from the net.

No thanks to the kayaking pro in the backseat.

“Oh yeah!” Rafael says after we are headed in the right direction. “I meant to say that!”

Sure he did. It doesn’t matter though. At this point, we have the basic principles all figured out. We row in sync with each other on the same side of the kayak and when I want to turn the kayak, I paddle on the opposite side. Got it.

We start to glide along the tranquil sea. There aren’t any tremendous waves so paddling is as easy as pie. I look at the sun, the water, and then back at Rafael while smiling. I can’t believe it. I’m actually having fun. My heart isn’t racing; I’m breathing deeply and normally. With all the other kayaks, swimmers, and fishing boats in the water, I’m thinking Jaws won’t be after us today.

“Is that a fin?” Rafael asks me, as though he can read my mind.

What is it with men? Must they all feel the need to make shark jokes while in the middle of the sea? Yet, Rafael is more afraid of the ocean than I am, so I play along with his joke.

“Oh! I think you’re right,” I say looking out at the sea with a serious face.

“It’s moving in a straight line just like sharks do. What do you think we should do?” I ask Rafael in the most non-joking voice I can muster up.

“Really?!” he asks, starting to panic.

“Where?” Rafael asks with his voice quivering.

My lover, Rafael, is tad bit on the innocent and gullible side. While I’m sure I could carry this joke for a few more minutes, I decide not to take too much advantage of his gullibility.

“Nowhere,” I respond to put him at ease. “Don’t mess with me and I won’t mess with you.”

“Oh,” he says with a sigh of relief. “Very funny.”

Yes, yes it was. I give myself props for succeeding in a little bit of payback. While Rafael bullshits as he breathes, I find it really difficult to fool people. I often ruin surprises and blurt out secrets. I don’t know why anyone tells me anything. So the fact that I was able to pull one over on Rafael gives me much satisfaction. We have such a healthy and loving relationship.

Once again, I’m relaxed, at peace, and loving vacation mode. This is just as enjoyable as my morning ocean dip.  We row out to a rock with just four other people on it and stop to lie out in the sun for a few minutes.  We use our life jackets as towels and sit on them. A man and a woman with English accents and funny swimsuits are collecting sea-glass, which I don’t really see much of. They seem determined, nonetheless.

Lying in the sun, I don’t want to move. But today isn’t lazy day. That was yesterday. Today we are active adventurers with numerous missions. It’s time to get back in the water.

As the people on shore are not kayaking professionals either, we get pushed back into the ocean by a rookie. This means he pushes us out at the exact same time as a giant wave is coming in.

“Oh!” he yells out to us after the wave crashed on my head. “I’m so sorry!”

 I decide that being drenched is really the only way to kayak anyhow.

“No worries!” I scream back to shore. “Thanks for the push!”

And I am thankful. We were having some difficulty getting back into the water ourselves, even being the kayaking geniuses that we are.

We play around in the water on the kayak for another thirty minutes or so. By the time we row to shore and return the boat, I feel much more confident about our kayaking ability. Next time, we’ll nail it from the start.

Walking back to the hotel, I start getting excited. Perhaps our room in the fancy Pavilion will be ready early and I’ll get to take a bath! We only have about an hour until our scheduled zip-line tour, so it will have to be a quick bath.

Thank you for tuning into JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective.

Coming up next: Does Rafael get Jessica and himself in trouble when he tries illegal and dangerous moves on the zip-line? Also coming up soon, find out what happens to Jessica's girlish figure after eating French fries at every meal and never working out while on the island.

Please, stay tuned!

Catalina Island Adventures Part III

Thank you for once again tuning into JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective. If you are tuning in for the first time, you will want to read my posts in order to follow the storyline. Please start with the first post. I have numbered the chapters in hopes of making it easy to follow.

Find out how Rafael handles another man hitting on his girlfriend, Jessica, in the upcoming chapters. Does he knock him out? Tell him off? Remember, these stories are all based on the true events and real people in my life.

HAPPY READING!

Chapter 5: A Day of Laziness in the Sun

We jump out of bed the next morning, eager to explore the island. I put on my new bikini and model it for Rafael around the hotel room.

“Wow!” he says with an undertone of surprise. “You look really fit! You’ve even got a little six-pack going there.”

“I am really fit!” I respond, very matter-of-factly.

He acts as though he isn’t aware of my crazy workouts. Still, I take his comments as serious compliments. He’s a tough personal trainer with high expectations of his clients, and perhaps, his girlfriend as well.

Dressed for the beach, we head out to see what the island looks like in the daylight. It seems as though everyone on the island, with the exception of those working in the shops and restaurants, are tourists on vacation. All the women are wearing bikinis and cover-ups, or sundresses, and the guys are wearing swim trunks. A few people try dressing up a bit more, but they look out of place. I guess I won’t be needing those hair curlers after all. Oh well.

For the next four days I’ll be living in my bikini and Rafael will be in his shorts. How perfect.

Our friend, Kurt Maloney, spent his childhood summers in Avalon, which seems to be another name for the island. This would be a wonderful place to spend your summers as a child. The island appears safe. Everyone here has money, so there is no need for crime. The island is small, making it difficult to become lost. I really appreciate this aspect as I’m one of the most directionally impaired people on the planet. If I were a parent, I would feel pretty good about letting my kids run around in Avalon. Kurt must have had some fun summers as a child.

During our Zumba class last Friday, Kurt recommended a few restaurants to us. Joe’s Place was one of them, so we decide to try it out for breakfast.  

“I’ll have the chicken-fried steak,” Rafael orders once we are inside and settled.

“Would you like it with a fruit bowl or biscuits and gravy?” the server asks him.

“Biscuits and gravy,” Rafael responds with a smile.

I’m not sure which Rafael loves more, food or me. OK, that’s a lie. Obviously food wins.

I ordered a veggie omelet, which turned out to be all veggies and hardly any egg or cheese. It was a little too healthy for me, but Rafael gobbled up his chicken-fried steak and biscuits without saying much. That means he’s content and enjoying every bite.  It’s really the only time he’s quiet. I love that he is so excited about life that he can never stop talking about it. Nonetheless, the silence is rather enjoyable when he eats.

After breakfast we start to walk around a bit. I gave up coffee about four months ago, or whenever Lent was. Now I move a little slow in the mornings and try to ignore it. With my previous coffee drinking habits, I’m pretty sure that I would have had a stroke by the age of thirty-two. I’ve tried about twenty different brands of green tea, but that stuff has nothing on coffee.

There aren’t many people swimming in the ocean, but I’m thinking that taking a dip would be a great way to fully wake me up.

“Yeowzers! That’s cold!” I scream after I jump in for the first time.

I look back at the shoreline and Rafael is still standing in ankle deep water, not wanting to go in any further. What a baby. The water is cold at first, but it’s like a hot tub when compared to the Monterey ocean water that we are used to at home. No wetsuits are required in Avalon! Or Catalina! Or whatever this place is called.

The truth is, neither of us are great swimmers, despite our athletic ability. The good thing is that you don’t need to be an Olympic gold medal swimmer to be safe on this island. There are lifeguards every 50 feet, the water is relatively shallow, and we can only swim out as far as the net will allow, which isn’t far. The net is quite comforting because it means that there aren’t any sharks lurking around under our legs. I’m quite afraid of sharks.  Who isn’t after watching Jaws?

Even while being in the most safe ocean conditions possible, Rafael stays on the shore while I swim around alone. What a great adventurer he is. That’s OK. I could use some “me” time.

This cool, crisp ocean water trumps coffee any day. I find myself wishing that I lived somewhere with warmer ocean water. Then I could take a dive every morning instead of having coffee, or the green tea which I now drink. I also notice that I no longer feel any pain in my legs.

The miraculous healing power of the ocean is not missed by me today.  As I float weightless on my back, my troubles and worries are washed off of me and out to sea. God, I really needed this vacation. The weight on my shoulders rolls off and sinks down amongst the stones on the ocean floor, where it stays. My legs sing in pain-free harmony as they thank me for finally doing something good for them. I feel good. No, scratch that. I feel fabulous.

And it was at that moment that my mindset was set for the entirety of our vacation. My cell phone would remain off; none of my clients can get a hold of me; no one can ask me for any favors. I am at complete physical, mental, and spiritual peace. This is a place that I need to visit more often.

“Did you have a nice swim?” Rafael asks, as he is videotaping me walking out of the ocean.

Men. They can’t help themselves. When a woman is wet and in a bikini, they must document the moment. I’m pretty sure it’s in their genetic makeup.  

“You have no idea,” I reply, shooing away the camera and giving him a big, wet and salty kiss.

I hold my body tightly against his, making sure to get everything that is dry on him, wet.

We walk back to the shore together and lay out in the sun where we spend a good portion of the day. The hotel manager gave us tickets for a long list of activities that include mini-golf, going to the movies, kayaking, rock climbing and zip lining, which all sound exciting.

And yet, lying on this beach and swimming in the ocean are the only two things that I want to do all day. Or so I thought until I got hungry.

Chapter 6: Ahi, Ahi and More Ahi

If I were on a deserted island, nothing like the well populated one we are on right now, and could only choose one food item to eat, I would choose ahi tuna. I could live off of fresh, seared ahi and be happy for the rest of my life.

On this island, I am in ahi heaven. Every restaurant has it, and with numerous different preparations. I had an ahi filet with a baked potato at Armstrong’s Fish Market when we first got to the island. Our meals were a bit pricey there, but we were so happy to have food it didn’t faze us. Besides, we are on vacation!

After my dip in the ocean this morning, I find myself growing hungry as we lie in the sun. My stomach is loudly suggesting that we explore our restaurant options for lunch. We walk around the clothing shops and restaurants until we decide on Luau Larry’s, which has an ahi burger on the menu. I made sure to check before we went in.

Immediately, I feel at ease in the Hawaiian atmosphere the restaurant creates. The whole place resembles a straw hut that you might find on a warm beach, surrounded with tikis and exotic birds. It reminds me a little of a Hawaiian restaurant at home, Hula’s on Lighthouse Avenue, but much more authentic looking. It doesn’t have a touristy feel like all the other restaurants on Catalina.

This is where the locals go, I’m guessing. The bar is on the immediate left, and the bar tender is chatting it up with his guests as Rock ‘n Roll music is playing in the background. Is that Jimi Hendrix? Yes! Yes, it is. It’s official. I love this place. Ahi and Jimi? What more could a girl ask for?

“I want to get a Long Island Iced Tea,” I tell Rafael. “We are far too sober for vacation.”

“OK,” he answers. “Whatever you want.”

That’s right, we’re on vacation. We can get whatever we want.

“Sir, you can’t come in here like that,” the bartender says to Rafael as he points to his own chest.

What? Is Rafael’s bare and exquisitely cut chest too much for the bartender to handle? I think he’s jealous of Rafael.

Rafael responds to the bartender with a confused expression.

“You need a shirt,” the bartender states as though it were obvious, which I suppose it should be but I never thought about it.

“Of course, you need a shirt, Rafael. What were you thinking?” I say, laughing under my breath as we walk outside the restaurant.

“I guess we could try somewhere else,” I say with a slight tone of disappointment.

I was excited about Luau Larry’s. Pink Floyd’s song, Comfortably Numb, is now playing inside and I really want to go back.

“No. It’s OK. I’ll run back to the hotel and grab a shirt,” Rafael says. “Do you want to come with?”

I look around at the gorgeous, sunny day outside.

“No, that’s alright. I’ll just wait here,” I answer as I sit down on a bench near the beach and not too far from Luau Larry’s.

Rafael disappears and my mind starts to drift off, daydreaming of ahi tuna and a Long Island Ice Tea. Man, I’m hungry. I hope they have good French fries. Usually, I substitute a salad for the French fries in an attempt to keep my girlish figure. But not today. I’m on vacation and am going to eat all the French fries that I want.

“Hello there, pretty lady. Do you mind if I sit here next to you?” a tall, dirty blond man asks as he comes out of Luau Larry’s.

“Sure,” I say, knowing this guy is about to hit on me. It’s important to be friendly and turn guys down gently, I think. Their egos can be so sensitive.

“What are you doing sitting here all by yourself?” he asks.

“Waiting for my boyfriend,” I answer.

It’s also important to let men know right away that they don’t stand a chance. You don’t want them racking their brains, using all their energy trying to impress you when it will never lead to anything. It’s not nice to tease.

“He went back to our hotel to get a shirt. They wouldn’t let him into Luau Larry’s without it,” I add.

“Oh,” he says and his face drops.

The word “boyfriend” is certainly not what he wanted to hear, but he rolls with it.

“We are eating at Luau Larry’s too! You’ll love it,” he shares.

We continue to chat for a few minutes. I learn that his name is Chris and it’s his last day on the island; he has to go back to work tomorrow. 

As he speaks, I can’t help but notice all the plaque on his teeth. Gross. While going to college, I worked as a receptionist in a dental office. My five years of employment there forever changed the way I look at people’s teeth. I notice their crowns, chips, implants, whether or not an individual needs to bleach or floss, and I especially notice plaque, which is coated all over Chris’s teeth. Does he ever brush his teeth?

I know for a fact that my friend and former co-worker, Cary Night, would never in a million years consider dating this guy, not even if he was the last man alive. In fact, she wouldn’t give him the time of day after seeing all his plaque. Cary is the biggest tooth snob I know, and I respect her for it. Her own smile is bright, shining and absolutely perfect. She looks as though she stepped out of a Colgate commercial. I’m pretty sure that her six-year-old son, Lewis, will grow up to be a dentist. How many children do you know that intentionally choose books about teeth and tell other children not to eat candy because the sugar bugs will eat away at their enamel? Her boyfriend, Dan, has a great smile. I’m sure he didn’t know that was her number one criteria before they started dating.

“You seem like a very welcoming person,” Chris is saying to me and I try to pay better attention because it seems rude to be focusing on his plaque while he is trying to compliment me.

“Your personality is really warm; I didn’t feel nervous approaching you at all. You have such a beautiful smile,” he adds.

Yes, I brush and floss my teeth, I think to myself. I even bleach them with professional trays that were custom molded to fit my mouth. On top of that, I get a cleaning every four months at the dentist. I suspect that it has been a few years since Chris has seen a dentist.

 OK, now I’m just being mean. Where is Rafael? I need to be saved.

“Thank you,” I respond, with a tone of annoyance, hoping to imply that no matter how many compliments he feeds me, I will not sleep with him.

If he keeps trying, I will not be so nice anymore.

Chris starts to tell me how beautiful I am when I see Rafael quickly walking toward us. Thank goodness. Rafael looks mad and is standing as tall as he can, chest out. Wow. He is so hot when he is mad. Rafael walks faster and faster as he approaches us, looking like he is going to knock Chris out. Finally, this could get exciting.

“Chris, this is my boyfriend Rafael. Rafael this is Chris. We’ve just been talking for a few minutes while waiting for you,” I tell Rafael, curious to see how he responds.

“Nice to meet you Chris,” Rafael says, but it doesn’t sound like it’s nice to meet Chris at all.

Rafael doesn’t even crack a smile. This is somewhat surprising coming from my friendly boyfriend, the guy that loves meeting new people. I suppose it’s all that testosterone pumping through his body. He’s feeling the need to mark his territory right now.

Damn, Rafael is so hot like this. I’m secretly hoping Chris says some smart remark about how beautiful I am so that Rafael punches him. It appears as though Rafael is waiting for an excuse to do just that.

It probably isn’t good that fighting turns me on. I blame it on my Irish heritage. My family in Chicago runs the streets. One look at them and you’d know to keep your distance because if you don’t, you might end up at the bottom of a river with your feet in a cement block. That’s my bloodline. And Rafael can certainly hold his own, too. Growing up in Salinas when gang violence was at its worst means Rafael has seen his fair share of fights. Being a natural athlete, he is fast and packs a mean punch. Rafael studied martial arts as well.

“It’s so nice to meet you, man!” Chris enthusiastically says to Rafael, knowing he is treading on thin ice. “Let’s all go get a drink at Luau Larry’s! C’mon Rafael!”

We walk toward Luau Larry’s as one big, happy and awkward group. Rafael is still not sure what to do.

As we walk up to the bar, Chris gestures to an older blonde woman and says,

 “This is my wife, Melody.”

Wife?! I know Rafael and I are thinking the same thing. He’s married? But, that doesn’t make any sense. Melody was just sitting here and watching her husband flirt with me that whole time?

“You have a very desirable girlfriend,” Melody says. “You can’t just leave her sitting alone. The wolves will come out.”

Clearly, this woman doesn’t know me. I’m not some sitting prey, helpless against the big, bad wolves. I was single for two years before I started dating Rafael. Handling the wolves and weirdoes like her plaque covered husband is something I’m more than capable of managing myself. As a matter of fact, I have it down to a science. My female friends look to me for protection when the wolves are out. They know I don’t put up with nonsense and always carry mace in my purse, just in case. I was trying to be nice to Chris. I’m on vacation!

Rafael and I politely introduce ourselves to Melody and crack a few jokes. Afterwards, I head toward a table in the back of the restaurant. Chris had wanted us to eat together but it is all just a little too weird for me. I’m completely confused and want to sit as far away from them as possible.

“They probably wanted to have a threesome with you,” Rafael states.

“Ohhhh,” I say, the light bulb in my head turning on.

“That has got to be what they wanted! You’re so smart,” I tell Rafael. “OK, I really want a drink and some food now.”

We proceed to have one of the best meals of my life. My ahi sandwich was prepared perfectly; the peppery seasoning added just the right amount of kick. Rafael had swordfish tacos. He wasn’t as hungry as me because his breakfast was far more filling. My French fries are delicious and the Long Island Ice Tea gives me just the buzz I desire after dealing with Chris and Melody.

Once again, I am a happy go-lucky vacationer. We spend the rest of the day on the beach, in the sun, making out on Rafael’s giant, new Santa Catalina Island towel.

Thanks for reading JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective.

Tune in next time to see how Rafael and Jessica survive kayaking in wild ocean waters without a kayaking lesson. Also coming up: Does Rafael's daring and adventurous personality get him in trouble while zip-lining high up in the mountains? Come back to read how Rafael manages cliff jumping.

Catalina Island Adventures Part II

Welcome back to JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective. If you are tuning in for the first time, you will want to read my posts in order to follow the storyline. Please start with the first post. I have numbered the chapters in hopes of making it easy to follow.

Find out how Rafael manages to book a private yacht to the island in the upcoming chapters. Remember, these stories are all based on the true events and real people in my life.

HAPPY READING!

Chapter 3: A Private Yacht

There are only three ticket-holding people boarding the largest, most deluxe ferry that goes to the island. And that is including both Rafael and me. Apparently, most travelers go earlier in the morning. We are not always the fastest moving morning people, so we made it to L.A. from Monterey by 6:30 p.m., which I thought was pretty good.

So, now we have a giant, private ferry to the island. Sweet!

“You can sit anywhere you like,” someone on the boat staff says as we start to board. “And you can just leave your luggage by the stairs, if you want. There isn’t anyone else on the boat.”

Of course, Rafael is handling my luggage by now because I can’t manage lifting my cool, new suitcase for long. So much for being independent! Rafael places the luggage by the stairs on the first level and we run up the stairs to the next deck.

The second deck has a clear view of the surrounding coastline, which is nice, but it doesn’t compare to the view that we see as we reach the very top deck.

The sun is just starting to set and the small, thin clouds around the sun are various hues of pink. The sea is calm and inviting us to go further and further out. Soon we can’t see the coastline any longer. The ocean and pink clouds are all that's visible. I never realized there were so many shades of pink before. Nature’s paintbrush never ceases to amaze me.

We decide to stand outside on the back of the boat for awhile before going in. As I start to zip up my jacket to protect me from the breeze, I notice the romantic wheels spinning in my boyfriend’s head. He’s taking in the scenery, the moment, and giving me that “I want to ravish you” smile. It’s one of my favorite looks on him.

“Isn’t this romantic?” he asks and leans in to start kissing me slowly and somewhat discretely.

I knew that was what he was thinking. At times like this, I’m so happy to be dating my Rico Suave, Latin lover. Every move he makes is smooth and calculated. On the dance floor, we move in perfect synchronicity whether we are dancing to Salsa, Tango, Bachata, Hip Hop, or anything with a beat, really. When we are off the dance floor, we create our own music, and Rafael is just as slick.

“It is very romantic,” I answer him, after we kiss for ten or fifteen minutes. “Thank you for such a wonderful gift,” I add. “I can’t wait to spend the next few days alone with you.”

“Happy Anniversary, Baby!” Rafael says. “A whole year together, can you believe it?”

While I hate to admit it, I really can’t believe it. And honestly, we’ve been dating much longer than a year. This whole anniversary thing marks the day that he asked me to be his girlfriend. Being such a commitment- phobe, it took me quite a bit of time before I could utter the word “boyfriend” comfortably. Rafael is incredibly patient with me.

“You’re shivering, Babe. Let’s go inside,” he suggests, without waiting for an answer to his question.

On the inside of the top deck, there are several roomy tables with enough space at each for an entire family.  The tables are lined up in two rows, filling the inside of the deck. There are windows along both sides of the boat that take a triangular form, the point of the triangle being the very front of the boat.

We ran around like children checking the different views from the various spots around the deck. It’s dark now, and we can’t really see anything but the ocean from anywhere on the boat. The island was not yet in sight, so it felt as though we were in the middle of the ocean.

It was just the two of us and the wide, open ocean. Oh, and the third passenger who had taken a seat right at the point of the triangle. That was a wise choice on his part; he must have done this before. It’s the best view on the whole boat, or at least it was before it got dark.

The man pulled out his laptop and a bag of chips. We assume he is traveling on business because he looks so bored and unhappy. How could he be unhappy on an almost private yacht headed toward an island? OK, it’s not quite a yacht but in my overactive imagination, it is.

We sit a little further back at one of the large tables and spread out as though we were at home. Why not? It’s not as though anyone cares. I rest my head on Rafael’s lap and curl up into the fetal position. Rafael starts to pat my hair but I smack his hands away. I’m not a dog. Sometimes he can take the romantic stuff a bit too far.

While I start to drift off into a peaceful sleep, the waves roll in and out, gently under the boat. The boat was too big to get rocked much by the waves.

“I could be a sailor,” I think to myself. This is the life!

Chapter 4: On The Island

“How could you choose a hotel without bathtubs?” I ask, trying not to show much disappointment. 

Rafael did, after all, book several days of wonderful activities ranging from kayaking to zip-lining. It seems harsh to criticize such kindness. Still, my legs are recovering from a stupid sports injury and soaking them in hot water was all I could think about on our drive this morning. My one-bedroom house is cute, but it only has a shower. No bath. I love baths.

“It’s an eco-friendly island!” Rafael exclaims as though it were an answer.

“So?” I ask, searching his face for better logic than trying to save the environment. My legs are killing me!

“None of the hotels on the island have baths. They are trying to conserve water,” he states with a tone of advocacy.

Mr. Thows-His-Plastic-Bottles-In-The-Trash-Because-80-Percent-Of-It-Winds-Up-In-The-Landfill-Anyway is suddenly eco-conscious. Lovely. Our super environmentalist friend back home, Melanie Talbott, would be thrilled.

“You’re trying to tell me that not one hotel on this whole island has a bathtub or hot tub? I’m not sure if I believe that,” I state, still trying to sound nice and sweet and not like a whiney, unappreciative witch, but it’s hard.

The long drive and last minute traveling arrangements seriously wore me out. Plus, I’m starving, which I won’t mention to Rafael. The bath is much more important.

“I’ll go ask if there are any baths on the island,” Rafael says in appeasement.  

“Thank you!” I cheer in sincere appreciation.

I realize that I’m being a little difficult, but I’m sore, OK? The hot water would relieve this pain.  After playing three hours of Rugby last Sunday with some serious athletes and personal trainers (yeah, what was I thinking?), I was a little sore the next day. By “a little sore” I mean that I couldn’t walk. Rafael, who is one of these crazy athletes, was just as sore as I was, which was a good thing because then I didn’t feel like such a loser for being ridiculously achy.

The smart things to do when sore include resting, toning down the workouts, stretching, maybe even icing a bit. I did none of those things. In fact, we decided to hike at Garrapata State Park, a long and somewhat strenuous trail in Big Sur the day after Rugby. Yes, my legs hurt like hell. No, I didn't stop. Why? I thought it would be a good idea to move my aching legs. My massage therapist, who also happens to be my mother, said it was the worst thing that I could have done for my legs. Of course it was. That is how I learn most of life’s lessons. The hard way.

I proceeded to attend my vigorous Zumba classes, taught by an adorable Mexican couple, Lucia and Miguel, for the rest of the week. They are also professional athletes; I’m surrounded by them. Yes, Zumba hurt. No, I didn’t stop. Do I have a brain in my head? That’s questionable.

So, now I’m still in pain, which is shocking, I know, and salivating over the idea of some warm water on my sore, sore, stupidly sore legs. But I won’t let it get to me for long. This is my vacation and I’m going to enjoy it whether my legs are in agreement with me or not.  Please, oh God, let there be a bath on the island.

“Ok, so there is one, luxury hotel with bathtubs on the island,” Rafael reports as he lets himself in with the hotel room key.

Yes! The idea of packing up and switching hotels races through my mind. I don’t want to look like I’m at all unhappy about the current accommodations, however, which might be painfully apparent despite my best efforts. I’m not so great at hiding things.

“The hotel with bathtubs happens to be the hotel that I already booked for later in our trip,” Rafael states, grinning with pride, secretly hoping that I’d shut up about the bathtubs for now.

 I forgot that he booked two hotels.  He booked one hotel because it came as a package deal, including numerous island activities. And he booked the other hotel because he knows I love luxurious hotels. I can’t help it. I do.

“Wonderful!” I state. “And I just love this hotel room!”

This is not a complete lie. I really do love our cute, beachy, eco-groovy hotel room.  I would just love it more with a bathtub.

“Let’s get this vacation started!” I say as we turn off the lights and get under the covers.

Please stay tuned to JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective to read about what happens once the couple leaves the hotel room. Things start to heat up when another man tries to hit on Jessica. Will Rapael knock him out? Tell him off? The answers are coming soon to this blog near you!

Catalina Island Adventures Part I

Welcome to my first short story, blog-style. With the next few posts I will be sharing some of the experiences from our recent trip to Catalina Island. Remember, most characters are based on real people but I have changed their names to protect the innocent.

Every few days I will post new chapters. So, please stay tuned to JQ Time: A Blonde’s Perspective and see what unfolds!

Catalina Island Adventures

Chapter 1: Our Anniversary

My boyfriend, Rafael Rodriguez, is a diehard romantic. I gotta admit, there are parts of me that love this, especially the part that loves being spoiled. I like to think it’s not a big part of my personality but it is certainly there. So, I am pretty excited when Rafael surprises me with the gift of an island getaway for our first year anniversary.

No, we haven’t been married for one year. He simply asked me to be his girlfriend a year ago.

“Babe, you’ve got to stop telling people that we’re taking this trip to celebrate our anniversary,” I say. “They’re going to think we’re weird.”

And this is true. People look at us funny when we say that we are going to an island to celebrate one year of dating, not marriage.

 “This is how a lot of people celebrate their marriage anniversaries,” I tell Rafael.  He doesn’t seem to care.

I guess I shouldn’t be embarrassed that my boyfriend is excited to celebrate our happiness together. How horrible, right? What some people may not know is that we don’t need a reason to celebrate; we play all the time. Still, an anniversary is a great excuse to go all out.

Chapter 2: Island Preparation

Our trip to Catalina Island turns out to be a landmark trip for me. I have finally decided to treat myself to some real, grown-up luggage. I’ve been using a giant, black duffle bag for a couple of years and it has got to go. It doesn’t even have wheels on it.

We leave tomorrow so I better go shopping now. Oh darn, an excuse to go to the mall. I hate those.

We had shopped at Ross in Sand City with Juliette, Rafael’s sister, when she needed luggage for her trip to Italy. I remember being quite impressed with their selection, so I make my way to Ross.

After separating their large selection of luggage into categories of “nice” and “not-so-nice,” I choose the biggest, nice one. Sadly, I haven’t mastered traveling light yet. The Samsonite suitcase is a goldish color that resembles my hair color. This means it will always match me, which isn’t necessarily a criterion for all my purchases, but, well, OK it is.

I see no shame in being color coordinated at all times, or at least whenever possible.

The Samsonite bag is able to turn 360 degrees on its wheels, and it’s expandable, able to fit several pairs of shoes, my hair rollers, and numerous outfits in a bag that I can actually manage all by myself. Or, so I thought while purchasing it. I wonder what Rafael will think when he sees it.

“That is a big bag!” Rafael says as I push the suitcase around on my kitchen floor.

I spin it fast, first to the right and then to the left, showing him its superior structure. This baby is top of the line.

“Do you really need to pack that much stuff?” he asks, looking concerned.

He’s right. The suitcase is too big. If I don’t pack it all the way, it will still be light and easy for me to manage by myself. I can pack light. I know I can do it. I never even wear half of the clothes I pack anyway.  It’s wasted energy.

Of course I wind up packing 15 bikinis, ten or twenty outfits, and six pairs of shoes, along with my big set of hair rollers (just in case we have a big, fancy night out and I need curls), sunscreen and books, and unsurprisingly it is a little too heavy for me to lift. Damn. I should get a smaller bag so that I don’t allow myself to pack so much.

How can I be a strong, independent woman if I need a man to carry my suitcase? Oh well. At least I can push it around on its wheels without any assistance.

While packing I realize that I need to buy a new bikini and bikini coverup, because what’s a romantic island getaway without a new bikini, and maybe a few other things from Victoria’s Secret?

Also, I turned thirty this year and am therefore at an age of sophistication and class, needing a new style of bikini. I need something more structured that says “I am a woman” and not “I am a teenager or barely 21” as all the stringy, strappy, fluorescent colored bikinis say.

I rush to Victoria’s Secret in hopes of making it there before they close and I succeed.

“Hi Jessica!" shouts Vanessa, a Victoria's Secret sales clerk, from across the store. "All swim wear is 25 percent off!" 

We happen to know her each other because we met once at a party about five years ago. Well, that, and I shop here on a pretty regular basis. They have the best athletic wear and bras, hands down. This store is like therapy for me.  Who can be sad around lace panties in hundreds of different colors?

“Thanks Vanessa!” I respond while looking at the bikinis. Their selection has diminished a bit in the last week and a half. Usually I’m not a huge fan of purple, but it was the only color they had left in the sophisticated yet sexy style of bikini.

I buy the chic, purple bikini and a low cut, black coverup.  The I-am-a-woman-now style of bikini is well equipped with some heavy duty push-up action. The girls look great in my new look!

With my new grown-up luggage and elegant bikini, I think I’m pretty much ready for our trip. Rafael is handling all the other traveling details and to show him my appreciation I buy a fancy, new digital camera for him. I am wrapping the gift and putting a bow on it when Rafael comes over to my house. As I’m not very good at keeping surprises, I let him open it right away.

“You got me a camera?!” Rafael asks with complete surprise while ripping the red wrapping paper off.

At this moment I realize that I need to buy the poor guy more gifts. He shouldn’t be utterly shocked that I bought him something nice. Rafael is big on gifts, whereas I like doing things for people. Take Rafael’s laundry for example. I sort, wash, and fold all of Rafael’s laundry, but you can’t quite put a bow on that. I get it; gifts are fun.

“I knew you wanted a camera and thought it was good timing, right before our trip,” I respond. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Babe!” he answers. “It’s perfect!”

 I knew he’d say that about anything I got him. The guy loves gifts and got outrageously excited over a snowman night-light that my mother gave him. Nevertheless, I knew that he wanted the camera and it warms my heart a little to see him so happy.

Luggage, camera, action! We are ready for Catalina Island.

Please STAY TUNED TO JQ TIME: A BLONDE'S PERSPECTIVE to find out what happens on the island.............

New Chapters Coming Soon to a Blog Near You:

Catalina Island Adventures Part II
Chapters: A Private Yacht and On The Island