Ah. Yes. So. Talking on the quick tip.
In May my wife and I took a much needed vacation to Mexico. I'd never been there. We went to Puerto Morelos, on the eastern coast, south of Cancun, north of Playa del Carmen. In the middle, thereabouts. As has been covered elsewhere, I do not do the beach, nor do I vacation terribly well in the first place. Neither of these things mattered. My five-month-pregnant wife had a glorious time and that is of course the important thing. I waited on her hand and foot (when I wasn't in the room stretching my back out on a makeshift rack). I am told I should get used to it.
That would be the porty bit of Puerto Morelos. We had some chips and I had a couple of Negra Modelos at a rather big-ass cantina here. I rarely drink beer (okay, save for the end of 'cross season), but this seemed to be the place to do it. Representing, of course, with the cap and all. Trust me, there were plenty of whistles blown in my direction. Usted tiene mi corazón, sucias silbato cerdos.
And here is my hot, five-month-pregnant, and also hot wife on the beach, last night of the trip. She's happy because we both managed to avoid getting the trots, which would have seriously sucked, because our hotel room toilet was behind a see-through glass door on more or less 360-degree display. Privacidad, por favor.
Here's a complete lack of segue, because we just don't have time anymore.
Though apparently we have the time to refer to ourselves using the Royal We. Sad. True.
That would be me, breathing like a water buffalo, at the Belfast Time Trial last Sunday. I took fourth in the M35-44 category. It was - and really more precisely this morning's training ride was - as I have mentioned elsewhere, the first time post-this-very-latest back injury that I've felt better than the faintest shadow of my former self. On the bike at least. I'm not getting too glib about it, though. I'm thinking my somewhat better than completely useless performance of late is probably due to the influence of the bubblegum pop soundtrack that's been running through my head recently.
I don't like your girlfriend!
Seriously, I don't.
That's gonna have to do. I need to order an enormous sea-foam green pregnancy pillow. Toodles.
[Anyone who gets the title is a fan of purple.]
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»State-Dependent Memory, Vol. 2
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»Nobody Blogs Anymore
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