In your dreams

Really, I almost passed out.  “Let’s take a trip,” he said.  “Let’s go to the beach,” he said.  “Just you and me, sort of a second honeymoon,” he said. “We can swim in the ocean. Maybe I’ll play golf. You can shop or something. Find some history. It’ll be a whole new country.”

Do you see what’s missing in those sentences?

That’s right.  Roller coasters. As in, no mention of. My husband, the love of my life, the light in my eye, and where vacations are concerned frequently the pain in my ass, has not only proposed but moved on setting up a vacation in a place where there are, to the best of our knowledge, no roller coasters whatsoever. I did not ask for this. He thought of it himself. All by himself. He has talked to a travel agent. He has collected information and prices and all-inclusiveness for many places in countries that Are Not The United States, and brought them to me to look at.  And I have looked at them.

We are going here

Wait, let me make that a little more visual.  We’re going here:


and we’re going here:

and we’re going here:

and all of these “here”s are in the Dominican Republic, in a place called La Romana (and all of the pictures are shamelessly borked from and link back to the resort website, haven’t been there yet, not my pictures!)  in a resort called Dreams.  Which is, from what we can tell, more or less carved out of the jungle where it touches the beach, with no town around it for several miles.

Oh, sure, it’s going to take us a year and a half to get there. Money must be saved, after all.  But we’re GOING. The wheels are already in motion and I am READY.  My man is awesome. Take a bow, babe.