When I see this photo, I feel a strong urge to pack up my things, buy maracas (no, the instruments), and fly over to Puerto Rico for vacation. I can just see myself now: flower in hair, margarita in hand, dancing to the sounds of congo drums being played by hot men in ruffle shirts…
Oh, I’m sorry. I think I drooled a little. It’s just that that vacation compares much better to the one I’m on now, which consists of a cross-country road-trip with no tourist stops, motels every night, fast food every meal, and looking out the window to see nothing but flat, flat, flat farmland and cows. Whoopee.
This post is really more of an excuse to rant on and on and whine whine whine and complain complain complain about my "vacation". So although Eva looks charming here, this also makes me want to strangle her (in a loving way) for reminding me of the trip I'm on while she's off touring the rest of the amazing world. Thank you very much, Eva. Pardon me as I continue to rest my head against the car window seat and continue my count of the number of grass hills I see.
