Well Timothy Leary of LSD fame advised us to do all three,
but hubby and I only managed the last – we totally dropped out of our
fast-paced, over-packed, multi-scheduled lives for one week. We took a cruise.

A few days after Christmas, my better half and I started
talking about needing to get away, to recharge our batteries which had been
running on empty. It’s been an incredibly busy time, both personally and
professionally – but heck, when isn’t it? Still, I was surprised when he
suggested we go to a travel agent and see what our options were.

Now here’s the rub. Hubby makes an albino look like an ad
for Coppertone. Red-haired and fair, he is very susceptible to sun poisoning. Don’t
ask about our 25^th wedding anniversary trip – let’s just say, fever
and swollen legs the size of elephants put a damper on the celebrations – and yes,
he was wearing sunscreen at the time!

So it seemed foolish to go to some island with the
expectation that we would lie in the sun for a week.

“What about a cruise,” father of my four children
asked.

“Who is this guy,” I answered. “A cruise?
What would you do?”

“Sleep, eat, read,” he assured me. “Wander
around islands when we dock.”

Now came the hard part. Nope, it wasn’t choosing which
cruise because his work schedule dictated the only week we could go and so the
choice was made for us. No, the real issue was me getting on a plane in order
to get to the ship. See, if you don’t go out of Florida
or Puerto Rico, you’ll spend two days getting
to warm weather. Leave from points South and you start off in shorts and
sleeveless tops.

Those of you who know me understand that I loathe flying
(notice that suggests that I don’t like it, as opposed to being terrified the
entire time and personally holding up the plane through my grip on the arm
rests). But I looked at hubby, who really did look tired – and I acted as
though me flying was no big deal (which neither he nor any of my kids believed –
so much for my acting ability).

When did I know that this cruise idea was a winner? The
moment my feet crossed the gangplank. There were a host of people offering me
champagne, chocolate, and an unending buffet. Seriously, did they know I was
coming or what? The stateroom with a small balcony was perfectly appointed with
a queen-sized bed, large closet, a private bath the size of the one I have at
home – and two stewards to clean and bring us fresh towels, room service, and
chocolate on our pillows each night. And no, we didn’t have the most expensive
room on the ship – not by a longshot.

The food was delicious and way too plentiful. My husband
quickly slipped into the “I paid for it, I’m eating it – and by the way,
are you finishing yours, if not, I will” culture. If he went more than two
hours without a snack, he claimed he was getting peckish. The ship had a
two-story library – we each read three books over the 7-day cruise. There was a
casino (I won $6.20 playing the penny slots). Husband won a bracelet by taking
a free raffle ticket, stuck into his hand while on his way to yet another
snack. He gave me the jewelry and headed off to the buffet. I passed on the
opportunity to learn the steps to Gangnam Style, which I confess, I regret.

We wandered around the islands, saw a butterfly farm where I
learned that Eric Carle has been lying to me all these years. Seems that the
very hungry caterpillar did not build a cocoon, instead he built a chrysalis
(moths, not butterflies, construct cocoons). But in my relaxed cruise state, I
accepted that Eric Carle was exercising artistic license.

While I checked my email a couple of times a day, hubby
turned off his phone when we walked up the gangplank – and didn’t turn it back
on for seven days. He was the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him and we’ve been
married forever. Among his forays on the ship was to a presentation on future
cruises.

But we’re back now – amidst freezing temps and snowy days;
no more stewards, waiters, or fruity cocktails with little paper umbrellas. But
most of all, our batteries have been recharged. We don’t want to drop out –
except for maybe once a year.

Ship Ahoy!

Marian, the Northern half of Evelyn David