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When my husband asked me to accompany him on a business trip at the beach, I was at once interested and appalled. The last time we had been to this particular stretch of the Gulf alone, without children, we had returned home and our middle son was killed in a car accident just days later. Forever after that lowest point in my life, I associated being alone at the beach with the hubby with that event. Still…. I love the beach more than any other place. And, at the end of the week my husband was going to compete in his fourth half-ironman competition (1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike and 13 mile run). Last year I had been unable to attend the event because Liam had a conflict. So it seemed serendipitous that this business trip corresponded so nicely with the race. To cap it all off perfectly, my mother agreed to stay with Liam and my friend Jeanine (who is also competing in the half ironman) said she would bring Liam down with her family to the event. All good. Before we left, Ray worried that the business trip with me would be the undoing of all of his months of training. “I don’t want to eat too much, or drink too much… I need to stay in shape for the race.” He fretted. I pooh-poohed that man. “Oh, don’t you worry!” I said to him. “I will keep you on track! We will eat nothing but grilled lean meats and tons of vegetables!” This from a woman whose favorite food groups are “brown” and “candy” and “alcohol” . The brown food group consists of anything and everything deep fried. The crunchier and browner it is, the more I love it. I am also a HUGE fan of the drink….wine especially, and cutting down on vacation just seemed a little hard to fathom. However, at the get-go, I was determined to keep the hubby on track. “I won’t be exercising for 9 days.” I told him, “So I am going to be ULTRA careful about my diet.” He looked at me hard. I could tell he WANTED to believe me, but I could also tell that he DID NOT. “I hope we can stay on track.” He wished aloud. My intentions, going in, were good, see? I really MEANT it when I said that I wanted to eat healthy and keep consumption of my three favorite food groups to a minimum. This was to be the “Week of Ray” and keeping him in peak form would be my dedicated trust. I was going to make that man the healthiest he had ever been. The first night at the beach it started going awry. Friends had told me I had to try the “Bushwhacker” which is a rum-based chocolate milkshake. Kind of hits on the brown food group AND the alcohol group. Well, naturally, I HAD to try them, and no one likes to drink alone. So I drug my hubby down my path of self-destruction with me, and chased the drinks with a big platter of flash-fried potatoes and coconut shrimp. “One bad night,” I said to him the next morning in our posh hotel room, “is not the undoing of all.” I offered those choice words of wisdom before ordering up room service breakfast in stunningly large servings. We now stand at day 3 and it has been steadily declining, health-wise every day. It seems that “the week of Ray” has spiraled into a cesspool of drinking and eating from my major food groups at least three times a day. “I should have known.” Ray lamented this morning after eating a breakfast burrito as big as my thigh as well as the bagel I insisted upon ordering, “that it is always all about Kimra.” His words stung. All about Kimra? NO! This is supposed to be the week of Ray! I did not mean to lead him down the shady path of self-destruction…but I, like the little half-donkey, half boys in Never-Neverland never seem to know when to grow up. I promised him right then and there, with utmost sincerity that tonight we will eat grilled fish, rice, and broccoli (food he had been wanting to consume all week) and that I would NOT insist he match me drink for drink should I find the siren call of the wine too much to resist. “The week of Ray begins anew!” I promised, my belly full of sausage and eggs and black beans and salsa.” And for that moment, even I believed it was true.
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