The Bryant Family Resort

Let me get started on the many, many ways I love Mindy's super-rad squatting-pad:

1. The Shampoo Apothecary: in my attempt to avoid having to check baggage (later thwarted by no room in the overhead, thank you, Group C), I packed no shampoo or conditioner. This didn't worry me, as I knew that even if my host and hostess had none to spare I could at least go down to the local grocer and buy a couple bottles for my stay. Let's just say THIS DID NOT HAVE TO HAPPEN. My guest bathroom shower had more scented shampoos and conditioners than bath and body works. I had my PICK of fruity wonderful things to rub in my hair--from mandarin oranges to raspberry vanilla to coco pearls, whatever those are. I could decide if I wanted to defrizz my hair today or if I wanted to volumize it. I had the freedom of choosing a deep condition or a whimsical condition. It was hair-washing paradise. And I don't know about you, but when I'm using someone else's shower, even if I have my own haircare products on hand, I always SECRETLY STEAL theirs, because what if it's something magical that I don't know about that's going revitalize my hair and change my life and bring the sun out to shine over my glowing locks until the end of my days? But I always feel guilty, squirting their shampoo into my palm, looking furtively over my shoulder as though they're going to bust into the bathroom yelling, "YOU'RE THE REASON I'm running out of my coco pearls so quickly!" and kick me to the street, throwing my bar of soap after me. But here? They put them all in the guest shower FOR me! I can use whatever I want! Without guilt! I can try every combination in the market, and you're not going to quit talking to me when you find out what I've done! I seriously think I spent at least 30 minutes in the shower here playing with ALL of them, like so many cooks in the kitchen combining everything in one pot.

2. My bed. Call me predictable, but I. LOVE. BEDS. They're pretty much my favorite place to be. EVER. This bed was lovely like Caroll's bed from Christmas Eve--it is, essentially, my cloud-away-from- Cloud. One, it's HUGE. HUGE. Like master-bedroom-huge, like, swinging-from-the-headboard huge. And two, SPEAKING of headboards, the frame on this is GORGEOUS. And I am a bed-frame nazi. As evidenced by the fact that I still haven't decided on the right one for my bed yet, because every time I go shopping for one I either hate them all or my head explodes from the commitment. This frame is formidable and dark and very Bed-and-Breakfast- at- Martha's- Vineyard. I feel like a princess as I pull out my stepladder each night to climb in. And three, the BEDDING! Dark blue jersey sheets with a stark white comforter on top. Seriously. I don't even know how I got out of it this morning to create this post.

3. Foooooooood. Their kitchen reminds me of my paternal, non-choring-giving grandparents' kitchen. These are the grandparents that we'd only see once a year who, as a result, had Guilty Grandparent Syndrome and would stock for our visit every possible goody a child could want. We'd leave our household of 'NO SWEETS FOR YOU! EVER!' to a cooeing "Another fruit roll up, child?" paradise. Now open the Bryant's cupboard, where the guilty delights of chips! pop-tarts! fruit loops! greet your starving, greedy eyes. And in the freezer! is that ice cream? ice cream that's not OLD and FROSTbitten?! ice cream that's fresh and young and begging for the penetration of my spoon?! and...could it be...TAQUITOS? And what is this special sauce on the chicken? Mr. Yoshido's? Can I smear it on my body?

4. The relaxation. Maybe it's just me, but the ideal vacation involves doing NOTHING. It involves a beach and a blanket and fried plantains and local cerveza. If I'm visiting friends or family, it involves endless eating and drinking and couch-camping and reading and vegetating and staying up late and sleeping in and basically all of those things you can't do at home because the guilt of inactivity would eat you alive. Don't pack in back-to-back tourist things, host or hostess! If I wanted to see the zoo, I would TELL you. No. I want--at least once--to lie around in my pj's ALL DAY LONG. Maybe I'll step out for a Starbucks to up my energy level for another trip to the kitchen, but that could be it. I'm on vaCAtion. Pants should be OPTIONAL.

5. Mindy and Daryl. Now these folk? THEY ARE FUNNY FOLK. Mindy is a natural storyteller and I keep telling her to start a blog but she insists she can't write worth a lick. I say you don't HAVE to be able to write (hellloooooooo, welcome to invisible gifts), but she's not buyin' it. Maybe I'll get her a tape-recorder for her birthday, and then she can RECORD her stories, and then write them from THERE. Obviously. And her husband Daryl? He's the quiet comedian, the kind of guy who generally doesn't say much, and you assume he is thinking deep, thought-provoking things, tuning out your and Mindy's incessant chattering as he internally formulates the Great American Novel, or maybe the cure for our energy crisis, and then BAM! Out of the blue come these side-bar remarks that just make you pee your little pantalones they're so funny and unexpected. Like WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?? WHO ARE YOU??

...yes...I think I shall move in soon. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find the remote control and curl up with some Lucky Charms.