Yah, Mon!

This morning, I was here:

Winter in the Arboretum

One week ago, I was here:

Winter in paradise

Oh what a difference one week and a four hour plane ride makes.

Welcome to the Oasis at Sunset Resort in Montego Bay Jamaica. (Admit it, you have that Bobby Bloom song in your head, don't you. You're welcome).

This is where Hubby and I recently spent seven days and seven nights, basking in glory of +30C weather. Our wee getaway from this year's polar vortex. A chance to kick back, relax, and rejuvenate.

With my entire family.

Yes, that's right. We went to Montego Bay with my entire family. Mom, Dad, sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew, brother, sister-in-law, and us. All ten of us.

Romantic, n'est-ce pas?

Well, the truth is that Hubby and I would likely never have chosen a resort vacation if it were just the two of us anyway. Lounging around is not really our thing. Specifically, lounging around is not really Hubby's thing. I have no trouble doing as little as humanly possible for a few days. Hubby, on the other hand, goes squirrly after a couple of hours. Which is why we tend towards more active vacations.

But this particular trip was not about the two of us. It was about my Dad. And his 60th birthday. Which was actually last year. All he wanted to do was bring the whole family together for a vacation. But we failed to make it happen in 2013. So we were all bound and determined to make it happen this year. And make it happen we did.

Here are some highlights:

Running along the beach

Everywhere that I go, I bring my running shoes with me. Because there is no better way to get to know a new city than by running through it.

Except not every city has a travel advisory out stating that you should exercise a high degree of caution due to the high level of violent crime.

Gulp....

Okay. So no leaving the resort for me. No problem. Because there's a beautiful beach and a beautiful ocean right outside my cabana door.

The view of the beach from my balcony

With a view like this, who needs to leave the resort!

Well, the thing is that the resort is small. Like really small. Like really really really small. To run from one end of it to the other is less than 1km. And since I don't really consider it a workout if I get any less than 5km under my belt, it meant that I had to run back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth again across the beach and through the resort. My route looked like this:

Screen shot from my RunKeeper app

I have to tell you, it's pretty boring to run the same route over and over and over and over again. Every single day. It's almost as monotonous as running on a treadmill, something that I hate so much that I run outside during Canadian winters, even when the temperature hits -40C. The only thing that kept me going day in and day out was the knowledge that I was burning off all those sugary calories from all those pina coladas I was sucking back.

Then again, I was running along a beach instead of through slush and snow. And I did have the beach all to myself on those early morning runs. Well, almost to myself...

Goats on the beach. Of course!

There was that family of goats frolicking along the shore. But no other humans, which was kind of nice, I guess. And I did get to hop right into the ocean to cool off after each of my sunrise runs, which is a pretty spectacular way to start the day. So I guess running the same loop over and over again wasn't all bad.

Snorkelling

I don't snorkel. Something about putting a tight fitting mask over my face makes the claustrophobe inside of me get a little anxious. Plus, I'm not smart enough to figure out how to put the darn mask on in the first place...

That's me... Trying to figure out a snorkel mask. Genius.

Then again, I don't get to hang out with my eleven-year-old nephew - who I am convinced is part fish - every day. So I agreed to give snorkelling a try just for him.

I lasted all of 15 minutes. I'm not a strong swimmer, and couldn't really keep up all that well anyway. And both my mask and my snorkel kept filling up with water, making it difficult to appreciate the bounty of the sea swimming below me. So I gave up, and left the snorkelling to the pros, like my Dad. Who spent hours out there looking at the coral reef, and who never hesitated for even a second when my nephew asked, "Who wants to go snorkelling?" Thanks for saving me from having to go back out there, Dad!

As for me, well, I took up this position with Hubby:

And from our poolside perch, we could watch Dad and nephew snorkel through the bay - 2 little dots on the horizon, bobbing up and down, coming up for air every few minutes to excitedly rave about all the different types of fish they found. They were best buddies out there, and it pulled at my heart strings to see them having so much fun.

The pool

Having no children of my own, I don't usually hang out at water parks. Plus Hubby hates water. So I didn't really expect to spend all that much time on the resort's water slides.

But then that pesky nephew of mine begged me to go down the water slides with him. "Just once, Auntie!" And so off I went with him to the top of this monstrosity:

I thought I could sneak away after one or two slides. But I didn't really want to. I'd forgotten just how much fun water slides can be. Especially when you are hanging out with an eleven-year-old whose eyes are shining with excitement. And so up and down we went, over and over and over again, racing each other to the bottom of the slides and then hurrying back up the stairs for another go. He even taught me how to go super fast, by lying on my back with my arms by my side and lifting up my bum so that only my shoulders and feet were touching the slide. Less resistance equals more speed. And a bigger splash when you enter the water!

Waiting for my brother-in-law at the bottom of the slides

When we weren't tearing up and down the slides together, we were hanging out in the pool. Where my favourite thing to do was to lounge around on a tire tube.

That's me, gracefully trying to get into the tube

But my nephew's favourite game was to sneak up to me while I was lounging on said tire tube and to flip me over. So I was particularly happy to watch him get a taste of his own medicine when he and his grandpa were hanging out in the pool:

Ooops!

While I spent my fair share of time in the pool with the nephew, there is no doubt that I much preferred being outside of the pool, with my niece. Lounging on a chair, reading a book, sipping a pina colada, and taking the occasional selfie:

Now that is more like it!

A stranger, my sister, me, and Dad

Private beach

The Oasis is part of the larger Sunset Resort, and it's a bit of an upgrade to stay there. You get an a la carte restaurant for all three meals instead of a buffet. You get to stay in a cabana instead of in an apartment tower. And best of all, you get a private beach, away from the hustle and bustle of the larger resort. And away from all those people fighting over beach chairs.

We spent most of our mornings and a few of our afternoons on the private beach. And for the most part, we had it to ourselves. It was fantastic. Peace and quiet, a nice cool breeze coming off the water, and the sound of those bleating goats. The perfect place to catch up on the many books downloaded onto my Kobo.

Riveting!

Incidentally, I tried all week long to get Hubby to get into the water with me. The Bay isn't very deep and it was nice and warm. So I thought for sure I could convince him to come for a dip. But alas, this is as far as he went:

Wouldn't even take his shirt off. Have I mentioned that he hates water?

At least I got him to pose for a couple of pictures with me, even if I couldn't get him to take off that shirt:

The local craft market

One of my favourite things to do when travelling to a new place is to check out the local market. Markets are so vibrant, the heart of many a city. Whether on the streets of Lima or the cobblestone squares of Bratislava, I have spent many an hour wandering from stall to stall to stall, checking out local wares and soaking in the aromas of local foods. And so Hubby and I were thrilled to learn that we could hire a taxi to take us into town to check out the local markets. We rallied the troops and set off for a couple of hours of shopping and people watching.

What 16-year-old girl doesn't want to go shopping?

Hubby and Mom gearing up for some good deals

My brother and sister-in-law ready to spend some dough!

Now like with any market, I expected that there would be lots of vendors trying to dupe tourists into buying junk. And this one was no different. Each and every stall carried an array of identical stuff - carved wooden snappers and turtles, woven bracelets, messenger bags, photos of Bob Marley, all of which looked to have been mass produced in China. But I was not prepared for just how aggressive things got at the market. The minute the taxi pulled up and the doors opened, vendor after vendor after vendor jumped all over our group, pulling all of us in separate directions to go and see their stalls first. "My lady, my lady! Please let me show you what I have." "Sir, bring your wife over here when you are done. You promise, okay?" "I have better prices over here. You come to my stall." It was overwhelming. And I quickly learned that the preferred tactic of every vendor was to practically push you into their stall and block your exit until you bought something. A few of the ladies even offered me "free" gifts if I would buy something from them. One went as far as to tie a bracelet on my arm, despite my protestations, which I had to forcefully remove as I muscled my way out of her stall. I just didn't like it at all. By the time the taxi driver came back to pick us up, I could have hugged him, I was so happy to be taken away from there.

Hubby, on the other hand, was in his element. He's a lawyer, after all, and so arguing and negotiating are two of his favourite things. While the rest of us were getting visibly more and more frustrated, Hubby played it cool and let vendor after vendor lead him from stall to stall, looking over piles of stuff before calmly making an offer for something that caught his eye, and then even more calmly walking away when the vendor wouldn't accept his price. He had vendors chasing him across the entire market, practically throwing their wares at him for a fraction of their original prices. "Sir, sir, I can give it to you for 10$. But you can't tell anyone else that I gave you this deal. Promise me that you won't tell anyone else!"

Watching the market from the safety of my taxi

Swimming with Dolphins

Ever since she was a little girl, my niece wanted to go swimming with dolphins. So when my sister and her family booked a trip to Dolphin's Cove in Ocho Rios, I decided to tag along for some quality time with the kids.

You had the option to swim with either one or two dolphins. Sis and I chose one while my brother-in-law, the kids and Dad chose to swim with two. The big difference is that when you swim with two, you lie face down in the water and the two dolphins swim towards you, plant their noses on the balls of your feet, and push you forward and up until you "walk on the water like Jesus Christ", in the words of the dolphin trainer. We watched as my Dad and nephew took turns giving it a try, but neither one of them was lifted straight up. More like they were propelled forward until they nose-dived back into the water. But then when it was my niece's turn, up she went, like a freaking pro, arms out over her head like she'd been doing this her whole life. I screamed out loud as soon as I saw it, I was so impressed. But what really got me wasn't her acrobatic, aquamarine grace. It was her smile. Her face lit up in the biggest smile that I have ever seen. I've never seen her look quite so happy. I wish I had a picture, but there are no cameras allowed in close range, and you have to saw off your right arm to pay for those taken by the staff. So the memory of that smile will have to do.

As for my sister and I, we got paired up with dolphin Mitch, the alpha male of the herd. Mitch is the sire of five baby dolphins in the cove, all of which have five different "baby-mamas". Bit of a Casanova, is Mitch! Our swim with him consisted of treading in place and tapping the surface of the water to call him over, at which point he swims up right between your arms, you grab onto his pectoral fins, and he drags you a few metres. Belly to belly with a dolphin for a few metres. Not something I ever really expected to do in this lifetime, and probably not something I would have done were it not for those kids. So thanks, niece and nephew, for this one of a kind memory!

Can't see a thing, but this is the cove where people swim with the dolphins

SuperBowl

Who goes and books a family vacation during SuperBowl?!? Well, we do. Which had a few of us football fans worried that we would miss the big game.

Not to worry. As soon as we checked in, Hubby and I asked the resort staff if they would be showing the SuperBowl anywhere, and they assured us that there would be a big beach party, complete with traditional SuperBowl fare. But then they went a step further, and set up a private room just for our family. Two t.v.'s, our very own chili, nachos, and chicken wings, and a bartender coming in to check up on us. Talk about service!

Nice set up - just for us!

Bringing in the food!

Perfect SuperBowl food!

Now if only the game would have been a little more entertaining.

Sistas!

I always knew that there was a strong family resemblance between my sister and I. But I didn't realize just how strong it was until I was walking alongside the pool with my nephew and a lifeguard screamed out, "Hey! Where's your sista?" About five minutes later, my sister and I walked by the same lifeguard, and he started exclaiming to his colleagues, "Hey! There they are! The sistas!" "They ain't sistas! They twins!" the other lifeguard hollered.

And so it was that for the rest of the week, my sister and I were known by staff and guests alike as "The Sistas". Everywhere we went, we were asked if we were twins, and had to explain that we were in fact separated by two years. On more than one occasion, my sister was even mistaken for me or vice verse.

So you be the judge. Do we really look that much alike?

Family

Our last night together

Let's be honest. The idea of spending an entire week with one's family can be a little daunting. Especially for the in-laws. In the lead up to our vacation, I may have overheard Hubby once (or ten times) say, "Yeah. We're going to Jamaica. With her whole family." Followed by him mouthing the words "Help me!"

And who can blame him. We're a crazy bunch. Like all families, we get on each other's nerves. In such close quarters, how could we not drive each other nuts?

But the thing about my family is that we are pretty tight. My sister is my best friend, and she married a great guy. Their kids are two of the most special people in my whole life, the closest thing I will ever have to children of my own. Being their auntie is probably one of my most satisfying roles. Then there is my brother and his partner, who go out of their way to help us out when we need it. And it's nice to have them in the same city as Hubby and I when everyone else is so far away; it makes me feel a little less isolated. Then there's my parents. It wasn't always easy back in the teenage days of living at home under their rules. But once I got over those awkward pubescent years, my parents and I genuinely became friends. Really good friends. And they love Hubby.

So being together, even on such a small resort where we couldn't easily get away from one another, wasn't really such a chore. It was actually a lot of fun. So fun, in fact, that my cheeks still hurt from laughing so much for seven days.

So here's to my crazy, loud, water-logged, wonderful family.

Selfie time for uncle and nephew

Selfie time with Auntie

A sight not often seen - Mom relaxing with a beer

My brother-in-law and niece hamming it up for the camera

Hubby and I

That nephew of mine is such a clown

Grandpa and grand-daugther

Playing cards with my sis

Auntie and niece cuddling up

Chilling with Mom

Going for a dip in the waterfall with Dad

I guess resort vacations aren't that bad after all. Especially if you surround yourself with those you love the most in the whole wide world.

It's a tough life, but someone's got to love a sommelier

I like wine. A lot. (Hiccup)

So you would think that I consider myself one lucky lady to be married to a trained sommelier. I never have to worry about what wine to serve with what I am cooking, because Hubby takes care of that. I rarely run out of wine because we have a cellar. And I go on all of these great vacations to wine destinations, like Bordeaux. What the heck is not to love!

But I gotta tell you... It's not always easy to be married to a sommelier. For instance, I can't enjoy a glass of wine without first being forced to stick my nose deep into the glass to determine its "nose". And I get in trouble when my answer is "grapes". "Come on Jay," Hubby will say with some measure of exasperation. "You must get [insert green peppers or caramel or tobacco or jam or any other appropriate wine smell here]. It's so obvious!" And heaven forbid I have a Malbec when I'm not eating barbecue meat, even if I really just feel like a Malbec. "It doesn't go with white fish, Jay. You can't have a Malbec with that. Here. Try [insert name of wine that goes well with white fish here] instead." Oh, and that wine cellar we have? I'm not allowed to take a bottle from it without first consulting the house sommelier. Seriously. I'm a grown woman, and. I. am. not. allowed. to. choose. wine. from. the. cellar. on. my. own. But don't worry. I am allowed to touch the "every day" upstairs supply whenever I want. "Every day" being code for "the stuff that the dumb girl who doesn't understand wine can have."

Perhaps the most difficult thing about being married to a sommelier is that Hubby is a member of a wine guild (sounds positively Middle Ages, wouldn't you say). I end up going to an awful lot of wine events, where I am surrounded by a whole lot of people who know a whole lot more than me. With their sophisticated palettes and their love of debating one another about the merits of a super Tuscan over a Côte de Rhone, I haven't got a chance of being the life of the party, a role I hold dear. Because you see, when you are not a wine connoisseur, going to a wine guild event is kind of like being an antelope stumbling right into the lion's den. Chances are pretty good that you will be the centre of attention, but for all the wrong reasons. You're likely to get eaten alive. Especially if the most insightful thing you can say about the glass of wine you are sipping is that it tastes like grapes.

Yes, as much as I love wine, wine events make me feel positively insignificant. And oh so very out of place.

But I am a supportive wife. So the same way that Hubby humours my blue collar passions like Springsteen and football, I cater to his love of trying to be the smartest wine professional in the room by going to guild events with him.

Some of them are really quite fun. Like the "speed dating" event where we worked our way around a room full of wineries, 8 minutes per winery table, sampling their award winning wines. Pretty effective way to get a Tuesday night buzz on in less than an hour, if you ask me.

And then there was the reception at the Argentinian embassy, where not only did I get to taste about 25 of my favourite varietal (Malbec), but I also met a talented Argentinian artist and purchased some of his beautiful art, which, one of these days, I will actually hang on a wall...

But by far, the best guild event is the yearly holiday dinner, refreshingly held after Christmas instead of before, and hosted by one of Ottawa's premier chefs. It is a five course food and wine pairing that makes foodies, sommeliers, and even regular folk like me, weep. And this year's dinner was just last night.

The first year that we went, I was seriously intimidated at the thought of being seated at a table full of wine experts and being forced into conversations about wine with them. So I adopted a strategy. Trophy wife. I was going to play the part of a trophy wife. Surely that would earn me some attention. Hubby could regale our table mates with stories about wine and I would charm the pants off of them by being the best dressed person and by making people laugh. So I went out and dropped an absurdly high amount of money on a sparkly holiday outfit, complete with new shoes and jewelry. Surely my lack of wine knowledge would go unnoticed!

It did go unnoticed. But not because of anything I did to divert attention away from my ignorance. But because wine lovers are really, really, really focused on their wine. And they don't really concern themselves with the fact that you can't contribute to the conversation, because they are happy to fill the void with the sound of their own wine-soaked voices. So I spent most of the meal in silence, a remarkably different scenario than most dinners I attend where I can't be shut up.

Still, dressing up is not something that a football-loving Springsteen fan gets to do very often. It's nice to get all dolled up for a fancy event once a year, even if it doesn't result in me being the centre of attention. So we keep going back. If for no other reason than I like to wear pretty dresses!

2013 dinner

2014 dinner - I don't know why I am squinting so much... This picture was taken before we started drinking all the wine...

And of course, there is the food. It is incredible. Where else would I ever try veal tongue pastrami. Yes, you read that right. And yes, it was delicious. This isn't a food blog, so I didn't take pictures of all of the courses so that I could describe them back to you in vivid detail. Just believe me when I say that no calorie was left behind last night. Even if I have to be in a bathing suit on the beaches of Jamaica in a mere ten-days time.

And you know what? Over the years, these events have actually become a little less intimidating. Partly because some of Hubby's knowledge is starting to rub off on me (but don't you dare tell him I said that). But mostly because those who know and love wine are simply very passionate people who love nothing more than to share their passion with you. They're not showing off. They're sharing their knowledge in the hopes that you will be as excited as they are and that you will find beauty in the sediment left behind in your wine glass just as they do. And when you finally accept that you don't have to be the centre of attention at each and every event that you attend, you can sit back, relax, meet some pretty fantastic people, laugh a little, and see a whole new and wonderful world unfold in front of you.

Oh yeah. And you can drink some damn good wine. Wine that tastes and smells like grapes. Damn good grapes.

Resolutions? They're not really my style...

Last weekend, my normally two-thirds-empty hip-opening-flow torture yoga class was packed. I couldn't salute the sun without hitting at least three people.

Hubby came home from the gym last Sunday morning, a generally quiet time, commenting on all the duos of brand new training buddies helping each other muddle through a workout using one strange machine after another.

Earlier this week, one of my colleagues left the office kitchen carrying a big ole' plate of lettuce for her lunch. With no dressing. And washing all those leaves down with water.

Yep. It's January. The month of self-improvement and resolutions. From spending less money to drinking less coffee to losing 5 pounds once and for all this year to vowing not to lose patience with the kids/husband/colleagues, everyone is making a resolution to be a better person.

I hate this time of year.

Okay. That might be a bit of an overstatement. I don't actually hate New Year's. The day itself is always quite lovely. One of my favourite traditions is hosting our annual Levée (a fancy word for open house), when all of our friends and neighbours stop by for some hair-of-the-dog and some made-with-love-by-me appies.

There is always too much food...

And cure your NYE hangover with another drink... or two...

And I don't actually hate being surrounded by all new people in my gym and in my yoga studio. Even though I almost got kicked in the head three times during last Saturday's yoga class. And even though I can't find an empty locker in the overly full gym change room. It's a great thing that people are joining gyms and yoga studios and getting more active. And besides, by February, most of them will be gone and I'll have room for full sun salutations again.

And I don't actually hate vegetables or eating healthy. See? This is an example of last week's lunch. Broccoli, celery, and even spinach hiding in my sandwich. Disgustingly healthy, isn't it?

No, it's not the day itself or the idea of new beginnings or the idea of being more healthy that I hate. It's the arbitrariness of January 1st as the day to decide to change your life. As though April 12th or July 27th or October 3rd weren't perfectly good days to decide to do something to improve yourself.

And so, I don't really make any big, meaningful resolutions at this time of year. 

It's not that I don't believe that I could be a better person. God knows that there are a million things that I could stand to improve about myself. For instance, I could stop nagging Hubby. I could stop eating so fast that I forget to breathe during ingestion. I could cut back on my wine consumption, even if Hubby is a sommelier. I could stop eating as much sugar as I do, even though I exercise regularly. I could be better with my money, and pause to consider whether I really need a 14th winter jacket before I drop a couple hundred bucks. I could clean my house more than once every couple of months (or at least hire someone to do it for me). I could stop procrastinating and use my time more wisely. I could be more patient, especially with my father-in-law. I could volunteer more. I could try to focus more on the positives in my day rather than the negatives. I could stop complaining. I could find ways to better manage my stress. I could...

...well, you catch my drift.

But ultimately, I won't resolve to do any of these things. At least not right now. Because, well, I don't like to fail. And of all the New Year's Resolutions that I have ever made - whether it be to stop smoking (something I eventually did in June, by the way) or to lose 5 pounds or to stop drinking wine on week nights or to be kinder to people - I've not succeeded in sticking them out much past January 23rd or so... And it feels awful when I cave. And I don't like feeling awful.

So instead, I like to focus this time of year on the things that I am looking forward to in 2014. Like:
- our family trip to Jamaica at the end of the month;
- our trip to Croatia later this fall;
- a new Springsteen tour likely to be announced any week now;
- my fifth wedding anniversary, which we plan to spend at the same winery where we spent our honeymoon;
- some key renovations we want to do to our house;
- more runs through the Arboretum with Fergus;
- more laughs with friends and family; and
- more yoga and gym-going and healthy-eating to continue to keep me strong and healthy and fit, even though I don't sleep nearly enough, carry far too much stress, and binge on too much sugar every now and then.

As for when I'll decide to stop nagging Hubby... Well, I guess that depends when he resolves to stop driving me crazy.

Were you paying attention in 2013?

About a month ago, I found myself trying to write a holiday letter to send out with our Christmas cards. I gave up and wrote a quiz instead, which I thought might be more fun and quirky than the overly formulaic "2013 was quite the year..." type letter.

For the past hour, I've been trying to write a blog post about 2013 in review. An exercise about as formulaic as writing a holiday letter. So I'm giving up and sharing the quiz with you instead. Also, I'm too lazy to be creative because it is Friday night and there is wine to drink.

At any rate, play along and let's see if you were paying attention in 2013!!!

************

A Holiday Quiz

How well do you know Jay, Hubby and Fergus? Take their holiday quiz and find out! If you creep them on social media, this should be pretty easy! Answers below!

1.     In Spring 2013, Hubby and Jay embarked on another European adventure. Which of these cities was not featured on their tour?

a.     Vienna,Austria

b.     London,England

c.     Bratislava,Slovakia

d.     Prague, Czech Republic

e.     Munich,Germany

2.     Why did they go to Europe in the first place?

a.     To see Springsteen in concert

b.     Jay had never been to Vienna

c.     Planning for their retirement

d.     To see if there is good wine in Austria

3.     Which musical acts did Hubby and Jay see in concert in 2013?

a.     Pearl Jam

b.     Bruce Springsteen

c.     Imagine Dragons, Mumford and Sons, the Lumineers and the Cure

d.     Patti Smyth and the Avett Brothers

e.     All of the above

4.     In 2013, Fergus took his love of herding to new heights when he chased which big game animal?

a.     Black bear

b.     Our neighbour’s 16-year old

c.     An elk

d.     A deer

5.     Our first road trip in our new car was to see Pearl Jam in…?

a.     Boston

b.     Buffalo

c.     Philadelphia

d.     Brooklyn

6.     Jay and Hubby travelled to which cold prairie city for the Grey Cup this year?

a.     Winnipeg, Manitoba

b.     Calgary, Alberta

c.     Edmonton, Alberta

d.     Regina, Saskatchewan

7.     Who played and who won?

8.     Jay started a new job this year with which department?

a.     Canada Revenue Agency

b.     Parks Canada

c.     Canadian Heritage

d.     Public Health Agency of Canada

9.     Hubby won the lead role in a play at the Ottawa Little Theatre. What was the name of the play?

a.     Lost in Paradise

b.     Still Lost in Paradise

c.     Just Another Day in Paradise

d.     Paradise City

10.  For most of 2013, we welcomed a long-term visitor into our home. Who is she/he?

a.     Sadie the cat

b.     Fritz the cat

c.     Bella the husky

d.     Hobbes the French bulldog

Answers: 1(d); 2(a); 3(e); 4(a); 5(c); 6(d); 7(Saskatchewan beat Hamilton); 8(d); 9(b); 10(a)

Happy (belated) holidays!!!