I woke up, went to the lanai with my big legal pad and finished a first draft of the House/Cuddy story. It may not be everything the recipient wanted and it won’t do much for the hard-core anti-het slashers, but it’s something I can live with in terms of not violating canon or characterization. My legs shook a little, so I’m hoping it’s also hot. I guess I had to get the serious non-con slash out of my system first. Either way thanks immensely to Beta Goddess Carol, rivers_bend, kj_draft and vanillafluffy for listening to me whinge and whine. I know you guys weren’t enjoying the sun and surf with me, but I felt like you and LJ were on vacation with me and I can’t imagine going on a trip without you.
When hubby woke up, I made breakfast and he went to return the motorcycle and do yet more shopping. After checking email, reading hot smut on LJ, suffering the 2nd day crack come-down, and using my hi-speed connection to play with You tube, I went down to the pool/beach area and camped myself out on the lawn in a deck chair in the shade. Now that I’d written two stories in a week, I could settle down with my old “New Yorkers”. Then something bad happened. I got a fast-food craving.
I hate fast food. I think it’s disgusting physically, socially, politically. I’ve memorized sections of “Fast Food Nation” and think “Super Size Me” is a brilliant work of social commentary. I never get these cravings. Except when I do. The only thing I’ll eat at Mc Donald’s is Egg McMuffin and Hash Brown, but some part of my reptile brain that loved fast food when I was a kid has this delusion that Burger King is somewhat less evil. I haven’t had this craving in nearly a year (I was on jury duty at the time) and it wouldn’t be denied.
There was every opportunity not to give in. As I walked out on Front Street, hubby was coming back the other way carrying a nice healthy strawberry-banana smoothie for me. I tried to sidetrack with a trip to the Whalers Whatever for some candy and chips. No dice. I ended up four blocks away at Burger King getting a bag of cheeseburgers and fries. This wouldn’t have been as bad if we weren’t scheduled to go to Kobe Steakhouse that night for dinner and karaoke or if my stomach capacity was still what it was back in my super-compulsive binge-eating days. I ate one and half cheeseburgers and some fries and instantly knew that 6 hours wouldn’t be enough time to digest.
More reading. More moving my chair to stay out of the sun. More flicking away flies who were very interested in my sun blocked legs. And a final splash in the Pacific, this time wearing my Crocs and watching out for coral and really enjoying the warm ocean and the sunset in back of me. Plus the sadness of knowing it was my last night.
Not surprisingly, I wasn’t hungry for dinner. Luckily Kobe Steakhouse was not a Kobe Steak House. Just a Beni Hana kind of thing. No great loss. I nibbled some shrimp and scallops, but was totally jonesing for Karaoke as soon as I heard the music start. There were two other couples at our table, including a rather handsome fellow from Serbia and his very quiet, but pretty wife. I was in the lounge belting out “Midnight Confessions” while Mr. Karaokegal was still waiting for the check. It was awesome. They have the pioneer laser disc videos that we had at the Mint before the machine died, so I knew the arrangements by heart and could work the room instead of staring at the screen. Great crowd. Happy. Friendly. Some great singers, including Mr. Serbian Guy who did a killer “My Way”. The KJ was Auntie Somebody. I never got the name. She was super enthusiastic. Sang backup harmonies and they had this great thing called “Hana Ho” (no comments from the peanut gallery). Hana Ho means that if you got a great round of applause you got to sing another song right away. This is cool when the rotation’s getting really long and you’re like me, usually singing songs that don’t go more than three minutes. I got Hana Ho twice. I got the crowd to sing along when I did “Teenager In Love”. I also got some interested looks and a wooden carved boat necklace from a named Chuck Staples who sells condos, makes jewelry and lord knows what else.
Hubby was still feeling pretty cruddy, but stayed with me there till at least one in the morning. By that time my voice was starting to go and I had a real karaoke love rush going. Comments and Karaoke, my two addictions.
I was so wired, I stayed up until three chatting and emailing and reading.
Woke up around 7:00AM thinking it was 9:00AM (the time in San Francisco) and had a minor panic moment thinking we were running late, which we wouldn’t have been because our pick up wasn’t until 1055AM.
Our departure from paradise went as smoothly as can be expected and there were no screaming babies on the plane ride home. Luggage retrieval took awhile. I suspect because the security alert was up to orange for no apparent reason. We got a cab and got home to our own bed, our tivo and our fog.
I miss the waves.