Paddles and Margaritas

The adventurers have returned. We were just like Lewis and Clark as we braved the dark Floridian waters of the river known as Blackwater.

I would like to tell you that we glided down the river, swerving gracefully around the jagged trees that stuck out of the water and using the current to guide us homewards.

Alas, that was not quite how it was. The heat was intense (I am a redhead and had to have my factor 30 on constant spray) and the river was tricky. I have just spoken with a far more experienced canoeist and she assures me that it is quite normal (even for her) to end up in the bushes at the side once or twice.

But as it went on we got a pattern and a working relationship established – a relationship that involved my listening to him and actually doing what he said. I did this simply to protect myself (I was at the front and it would be me in the spikey trees if we crashed). I would like to assure all and sundry that my brat instincts remain intact.

As we paddled and rested and paddled and rested it occured to me that canoeing really is a metaphor for how a relationship works. You work together, you listen to each other, you work with the currents and it all works out. I could write a thousand words on the intricacies of it but I think that about has it covered.

Needless to say Himself was very patient with me as I squealed and got confused about right and left -having decided we would go to the right of the obstacle and he told me we were going to the left of it I would cheerfully agree and merrily carry on as I had been doing. It is very hard to comprehend that what he said was not what I heard and what I had assumed we would be doing. He guided us superbly and kept on paddling when my arms were aching and straining.

It took us three and a half hours to do the eleven miles (which I am sure was almost doubled with all the twists and turns) and the only fellow canoeists to beat us back were two young men.

It was later as we celebrated that we allowed ourselves to smile with pride about how we had not tipped the canoe as we had seen some others do.

We went out for fajitas (super scrummy and one of us is far better at contruction than the other) and a teeny, tiny cocktail.

I would also like to relate that despite my arms being too sore to lift, someone nearby had not a hint of that kind of trouble and was horribly insistent at picking up silly, playful bits of behaviour and spank most cruelly for them. He was very unamused at my helping him by putting lotion on his thigh as he lay ready for sleep when I pootled past to brush my teeth. He was equally unamused by my biting him (such gentle nibbles) and seems unable to muster the most basic belief in the existence of pterodactyls in Florida at this time of year, which is a shame becasue they attack with great regularity.

You remember that picture of a girl cooling her bum against the fan? I have lived it now but I lack her smiling countanance.

It is hard to sleep with a burning bottom, even with lotion and kisses to soothe me. Well, after canoing eleven miles it is hard to sleep for about three minutes.

And tonight? Tonight we have some sorting out to do from our time apart. I choose to believe that means he wants to give me extra kisses for all the ones I have missed.

I will tell you about it anon.

PS- He just spell checked this for me and whilst he was doing so I reached down with little red toenails and I tugged at one of his laces and made it all undone. He looked up with one eye narrowed and said, “You will pay for that, little girl.”

What could he have meant by that, do you think? Answers on a postcard please.

We are going for lunch now. Byeeeee

xxx

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