I must say, my 40th birthday has been stellar. The cruise with six of my girlfriends was fantastic (my BFF Tiffany even flew down from the Arctic Tundra of Minnesota for it). We left behind six husbands and 29 children who all survived.
We departed out of Galveston so we only had to drive a few hours from Austin.
Our cruise was on Carnival, the vacation equivalent of Golden Corral (a tacky buffet restaurant, for the uniformed). You get what you pay for, and our cruise was cheap. Which was fine. But that meant there were a lot of . . .uh, interesting people on board our ship. I have never seen so many tattoos and fat ladies in bikinis. But this was how we spent most of our time: in lounge chairs reading and talking. And eating. It was glorious.
We had a lot of fun in Cozumel, Mexico. I did stuff like kissing lizards (no frenching allowed!) . . .
. . . and driving a dune buggy
. . . and eating freshly made salsa and guacamole on the beach in this cute little hut. Paradise.
But like I said, we sat around most of the time. Occasionally we napped. And swam. I may or may not have sat in the hot tub eating a plate of french fries and cookies.
We did not drive children anywhere. We did not cook anything. We did not wipe any bums. We did not make any beds. (I did hang up my wet towels, though. I’m crazy like that.) We spazzed out occasionally because nobody lets loose like Mormon moms without kids. Such occasions call for Nacho Libre masks and rag curlers.
My transition to the downward-facing side of the hill has been pretty painless. Rock on, 40′s!