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Since  Gill was so ‘on top’ of things last week and remembered to post my blogs (actually, her computer remembered), you, our regular readers, weren’t aware that I was on holiday in Mexico. Of course, had I not been the typically foresighted mother that I am, I wouldn’t have written several blogs in advance so she’d HAVE something to post. But that’s what moms do — they think and plan ahead. I’m not casting aspirations on my lovely daughter, but may I just point out that she’s the one with (until disaster struck her ear) no doctor, no emergency food supply and  way too many Q-tips. That was despite my many admonitions to remedy that dire situation. But I will speak of this no more.

And the main reason I will speak no more of her sins is that I have committed some myself — on my recent vacation. Yes, readers, I know it’s hard to believe. Despite the fact that I had a glorious time in Mexico, I am ashamed to admit that I returned home with a new moniker: Two Margeurita Laurie.

Now who doesn’t enjoy a marguerita when poolside in a tropical resort? Nobody…or if there is some sad sack not drinking and eating and having too much fun, I might dare to suggest they have no business at a pleasure spot where excess is the password. They’d be much happier (as would the other guests) if they attended a colonic cleansing treatment at a survival camp in the desert. Just saying’…

At any rate, the first day of our holiday, we were sitting on chaises by one of the many pools, reading, catching some rays, watching the occasional huge iguana (and possibly the occasional human) fall out of a tree or dive into the pool and swim across.

I have been to several ‘all inclusive resorts’ before but this was a magnitude above. There were only a few swim-up bars but instead of having to exert oneself to procure one’s alcoholic bevvie of choice, a waiter did the rounds of the poolside and took orders, delivering them quickly. When in Mexico, do as the locals do, I thought. Now I doubt that many Mexicans drink Margueritas by the pool all day, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

The drink was heavenly…the perfect rim of salt on the glass, a slice of lime, a healthy dollop of tequila. I enjoyed the first one so much I had a second. Well, it had me. Half-way through, I realized that these drinks were strong, not the typical watered-down ones most resorts serve. My legs were feeling ever so wobbly, my eyes were closing and the plot of the book I was reading eluded me. After reading the same page four times, I still couldn’t recall the main character’s name or why he was naked. Or maybe he wasn’t. I was in no condition to say. At that point, I probably hoped he was.

We made it back to the room and had a short nap to prepare us for the evening’s dinner and festivities with friends. I was restored to my usual sober self (notice I din’t say ‘normal’ since few would ever describe me as normal) and was eagerly awaiting dinner. We met up with the group and began the picturesque stroll, wending our way along  tropical plant canopied boardwalks, past small lakes, lagoons, admiring views of the ocean.

And then it happened. Gill will berate me for this and will see it as my finally getting my due. I love shoes (as our regular readers know) and I cannot travel without a suitable pair for every outfit. In my defense, it was a classy place and there were standards to be maintained. I wasn’t going to be the schlumpy one– if it killed me.

It almost did. I was wearing a pair of strappy wedge sandals that I find very comfy. I wore them through most of Pearson Airport when returning from the Caymans recently and I find them easy walking shoes. But my toe must have caught on some little piece of wood or nail sticking up from the walk. Down I stumbled, landing on my knee, hip, and worst, my ego.  It happened so quickly I didn’t realize what had happened. Great way to impress your new friends! Everyone was extremely concerned since the fall had been a hard one, but apart from a few bruises, I was fine. Someone in the group, trying to break the tension I’m sure, quipped, “That’s what two marguerites will do!” And so, I will forever be Two Marguerita Laurie.

But that’s not bad. Tomorrow you’ll be hearing from ‘Three Pints In Gill’. I can only wait…