Strangely enough, when I was in the shower on Sunday morning, I thought to myself, “If there’s going to be an earthquake, this week might be a good time for it....” Sunday morning, I got on a plane with The Girlfriend and flew to Mexico for a vacation — and then a couple of days later, L.A. got hit with an earthquake.  I’m not worried about finding stuff all over the place when I get back to my apartment though; it wasn’t strong enough.

We had a great time, and I learned the first day that sunblock can be a wonderful tool… except I learned that lesson a bit too late and fried the hell out of my shoulders.  Aside from that, it’s been a wonderful trip — we swam with dolphins, we went parasailing, we might’ve discovered that my, ahem, distaste of snorkeling might be a permanent thing and not a one-shot deal and also that she doesn’t like snorkeling either, and we discovered that she does in fact like certain types of tequila.  And we found the only beach bar at our resort, which also happens to have swings at the bar, where the bartender makes what has been dubbed the Best Margarita Ever.  Pictures are available on Flickr and Facebook.

It was well-timed.  I’ve been kind of coming apart at the seams over the past few weeks thanks to an increasingly stress level with no pressure release, and now I feel much better and more relaxed.  I can return to the Real World and jump back into the fray, and it’s been a perfect length of time to spend away from home, since I’m looking forward to getting on a plane today and heading back to my life as I know it.