Our Christmas that felt like a non-Christmas was a delight and I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed and content. We drank what probably amounted to our own weight in pina coladas and thanks to JoyBoy, mastered the art of making them ourselves. Jude and I glutted ourselves on seafood, and in the end paid a heavy - but well worth it - price for our smorgasbord of octopus, lobster, prawns, butterflied jumbo shrimp, clams and mahi mahi. To think about it again makes me sigh. It was yummy for my sick tummy.
I could feel the Vitamin D soaking into my skin as I lay there on the chaise lounge by the pool. Little prickles of phantom sun pleasure meander their way down my forearms as I remember it. It was a mish mash of colorful sensations all competing with one another for preeminence. Laughing, splashing, delicious children. A sky so blue it seems a cliche to try to describe it. Faint snatches of diesel wafting through the air. The thunderous crashing of waves so loud and so rhythmic you wonder how anyone could discount the Existence of a Creator. The hot sun making its sultry way into the darkest, most chill-infested recesses of your soul so that at times you feel that you might just be able to fly. Hyperbole seems the only even reasonably sufficient way to describe the way I felt lying there, listening to all the sounds wafting around on the breeze. There were times where I couldn't even bring myself to read, so entertaining was the simple processing of the stimuli perceived by my five senses. It was a nice time.