Crazy, Americans.

Personal

I like being boring. In fact, I’m TOTALLY okay with it. I prefer slow nights, long dinners, lazy afternoons on the beach, and time alone with people I love the most. Being in Australia with JD has been just that. We’re doing everything slowly and being intentionally boring. Don’t hate. This is an ideal situation for me.

A couple days ago, we spent the entire afternoon lounging on the beach. Having never surfed before, JD gazed about the thousands of boards in the water and was all, I think I’m gonna do THAT today! And just like that, he did. It’s the thing I adore the most about him: His ability to merely look at something and decide he’ll be good at it. Okay, so maybe ‘good’ is a stretch, but he did stand up more than a few times. And I cheered from the sand like a lunatic.

Crazy, Americans.

I finished an entire book on Manly Beach, nectarines and water tucked safely in my purse for all the literary craziness I was doing, which sometimes caused hunger. I flipped from front to back, letting the Australian sun grill me like a shrimp on the barbie. Yes, I just went THERE. Oh, com’on, you would too! When JD ascended from the turquoise ocean, he shook his wet hair over my browning body, baptizing me with the Aussie coast. I shriek with delight.

Crazy, Americans.

As he lays next to me, JD tells me I got dark. I ask him what I look like. After a few seconds of quiet thinking, he responds, Like a falafel. Okay, really? A falafel?! Not like a cute grape or coconut? A falafel?! You really need to work on female descriptions I tell him jokingly.

We later find ourselves at Mortar and Pestle, eating what could possibly be the best Thai we’ve ever eaten. Ever. The restaurant is loud, but we’re louder. Talking and reviewing the day. We laugh. Too loudly.

Crazy, Americans.