Caterwauling

I got a rock

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Day 5 in scenic Baja California Sur, Mexico. Or San Jose. Or Los Cabos. Or Cabo. Whatever.

In any case, three days (of four) of baking in a shaded area where we’re on “booth bitch” patrol. Zero trips to the pool. Zero trips to the beach, but I’d rather be in the infinity pool any day.

I wanted to shove off to Cabo Wabo last night, but not even the “cheese factor” enticed anyone to want to join me. So I’m literally dragging a colleague out to dinner off the reservation, and then we will just HAPPEN to end up there.

Because I’m the BOSS …. that’s why!

I ended up at a really good restaurant on the fourth floor of one of the timeshares, in a corner table overlooking the Gulf of California. I had a lovely grilled tomato salad served on a bed of Manchego cheese. Then I had “Mexican fondue,” which was a mixture of Manchego, chorizo and pure magic.

There was alcohol. Too sweet and yummy to be considered alcohol Good God, the alcohol I have consumed on this trip. I might not have been able to put on a swimsuit (dear hotel guests: you’re welcome), but I’ve sure had my tequila. (And everyone else’s.) Ole!

I’ve spent a lot of time with a newer staff person. It’s nice to see how far I’ve come, knowledge-wise — not just in our niche industry, but as a manager, since she’s a brand-new one.

The things that are challenging for her are the things that don’t even make me lose a wink of sleep anymore. I hope I’ve been able to help her to bridge some of the gaps she’s encountering. Or, at least, that I’ve corrupted her sufficiently.

Anyway, I’m sure I’ll make up for lost time on that corrupting bit tonight. It’s good to have goals!

Festive cactus

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

This part of Mexico is just Florida with mountains and cacti. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s gorgeous.

The sand is too rocky for my delicate tootsies. South Florida sand wins, paws-down, for the ability to walk barefoot on it.

Says she who walked barefoot from dinner to after-dinner drinks, to the cab and along the long and winding path to my hotel room! Ow!

At least my alcohol consumption is intact. As for infinity-pool time, I’ll probably never manage to find time to go swimming down here. But I did a lot of videotaping today (outdoors!) and I have a lot more to come, so my shoulders managed to get tan. Whee!

I’ve also consumed a “special banana” drink, two mango margaritas on the rocks and a frozen mango margarita, and I’m perfectly sober. And the drinks are s-t-r-o-n-g down here, yo.

There’s sort of a sorority-like feeling here. And I feel like a bit of an iconoclast. Like, in my role I *should* be rushing said sorority. But given the choice between being hazed and going off in a smaller group where I’m the coolest girl EVAR, well, you know what I’m gonna pick.

I’m glad we get some downtime before the big event starts. We never got relaxation time in my old life. Arrive, go to work, work 15-hour shifts, go to your room and work some more, eat with your colleagues, drink heavily on the company dime, and arrive hungover in the morning … just in time for (another) lecture of a lifetime about being five minutes late.

I used to bitch about those days. And I still would. But I do miss the expectation that the group would eat dinner together every night. I know we’re all adults and can arrange our own dinners. But even though there were a thousand times I would rather have been out wandering, I had some of the most-amazing nights of my life, breaking bread with my publisher and my editors.

Ah, trade-offs.

Some things are keeping me awake tonight:

1. Alcoholism.

2. Wondering whether Cabo residents get as kerfuffled at all the signs in English the way North Americans get pissed off at all the signs in Spanish.

3. Contemplating whether I should even go back to the States, after that horrible election today. Expatriation, ahoy?

Infinity pool

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

OK, well, it’s not Paradise City but, hey, at least I’m in Mexico and I haven’t been beheaded or otherwise fatally wounded in a drug deal. Although I’m sure some of you are still holding out hope that my trip is young!

I keep meaning to check out the infinity pool (pictured). But alas, when you work in tropical locales, the emphasis is on the WORK. I did have a good 15 minutes to myself in the sun, though, so I’m counting my blessings.

We had some killer food last night at one of the hotel restaurants. I took one of our newer staff people out to dinner. And for as downright frustrated as I get sometimes, it was a good reminder that I’m here to shape the next generation. I mean, I’m here to make money for the company. And the “how” is a moving target on a good day. But consistency is for cake batter. In any case, I really do have mostly good people who actually take me seriously.

In any case, now that I’ve had authentic Mexican food, I’ll never be able to eat it again. Except, of course, when it comes to Fourth Meal. I could go for a soft taco right now. …

The trip down here was uneventful, save for one of my people choosing (in my opinion) to miss their flight yesterday due to not being called for carpooling. You don’t “forget” that your flight is on Monday, not Tuesday, without a reminder.

One of my colleagues has his money on me being impregnated by an entire mariachi band. I haven’t see any mariachis yet (whew!) but there ARE crazy Mexicans roaming our private beach, trying to sell us shit illegally.

There are several little vendors on site, and I picked up a lovely silver ring. Paid way too much for it. But it’s my souvenir. Funny, though, but they saw my big-ass blue-stone ring that I brought with me here and they thought it stunning. I paid five bucks for it at Target. I should have asked to trade!

The room is beautiful. I’m on the ground floor with a lovely deck and a view of the Gulf of California.

And we’re coming back here in Q1 for an editorial fiesta — the hotel is making us overpay by a certain amount, which will come to us as a resort credit. (The chain is independently owned outside the U.S., so we can’t transfer the credit.)

I can’t wait to come back, since my freedom ends in about an hour (working cocktail party!) and captivity proceeds through Saturday.

I don’t know who has texted me more — Obama and his damn Democrats or my idiot mother. My phone bill is gonna be nuts once again. And CVS has called the most, to remind me about prescriptions. How is it that my phone can be silent for three weeks, but then everybody hunts me down when I’m paying international roaming rates? *double-barreled salute*

Let’s see — oh yeah, I bought some black cherry mini-cigars. Which suck. And I got 200 pesos out of the ATM. And I’m learning to tip without being able to access any iPhone apps for currency conversion.

Incidentally, 200 pesos is worth about 20 bucks in U.S. dollars. Which means a $20 (in pesos) is worth about $2. I guess you could say that the same is true for the greenback, when you look at it that way!

Oh well, another half hour of work, then butt-scrubbing, then schmoozing. This is the best part of my job. Even if I’d rather be in the hot tub overlooking the Gulf instead…