I know, I know, I’m on vacation. I should be out cavorting in the sun and surf with all the hot Arubians that are oh-so transfixed by this blonde on vacation, en solo. Fear not, my friends, I’ve cavorted most of the day away, and anyway, my nice little red back needs a break from the rays.

This island is beautiful. It’s got a constant breeze, enough to dry your hair right out of the shower and blow it into your third strawberry-banana dacquiri (only $3 at happy hour.) The water is a pristine color, a turquoise that likely defined the Crayola color, and the white sand somehow doesn’t get that blistering hotness that North Carolina sand does after a long day. There are lizards, iguanas and geckos, some a bright green with a touch of that turquoise from the sea, scampering in the bushes. Others are more bold, standing in the middle of your walkway as you have to navigate around them, pushing out their waddle for all to see and revere.

The people here are kind. The employees, of course, but also the other guests. Though the island’s main language is dutch, it’s become so Americanized that everyone speaks English and the US Dollar is accepted everywhere. In a typical twist of Aubrey Small-World fate, I ran into a honeymooning couple (which probably makes up 80% of the resort, the other 20% being families) that are good friends with MY good friend Bubba that I grew up with. (Yes, they even have “Bubba”s in Cleveland.) We’re hitting the town this evening, which should prove to be a unique experience. The other couple I’ve met (again, honeymooners) are in their mid-to-late 50’s; they met on September 6, she moved in with him on September 9th. I think they could party me under the table.

So yes, I’m away. I’m relaxing, I’m preparing for the weekend of weddings ahead and all that goes with that. I’m getting used to myself again, getting used to this independence, settling into the me that I am these days, and doing it with a big, fat dacquiri in my hand.

(And have I mentioned that my beach is topless?)