the moderate epicurean

a quest for measured pleasure...

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Holy, heavenly guacamole, I can't wait to fly out of here tomorrow. And eat guacamole (preferably with warm tortilla chips, to die) upon arrival! I don't even care if it's in the sun (since my bod can't take much sun anyhow), as long as it's above, let's say, 65 degrees. That's 66 degrees warmer than it was here when I woke up this morning, and since I figure guac tastes mighty fine anywhere (while sitting outside) between 65-85 degrees, it should be all good. Guac Good. Yeah.

So, I'm almost all packed. Ridiculous number of things I'm bringing, but since this is a semi-business trip for my friend Michelle (Mich), it requires spiffing up a bit in the evenings. Aw, shucks, that means digging out Bling. Heels (gotta stand my ground against Mich, who at 6'0" is one inch taller than me, beyotch). Skirts. Evening bags. Fragrance. (Yes!) This time I won't get a hideous, itchy sunrash (Puerto Rico '95), or fall and skin my knee (Puerto Vallarta '00), or have half my fake tan eerily scrubbed off (Miraval '05), or go on a blustery, filthy horseback ride (Palm Springs '07). Nope, this time it'll be sun, surf, chat, tasties, yoga, and...guacamole! Ole!

Have yourselves a great week y'all!

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