Dear Elli,
I'm in Mexico right now. The place is pretty cool. You'd probably agree. But you're not here, because I didn't invite you. You're four. And I don't invite four year olds to Mexico. Sorry bout' your luck, kid.
Anyway, I'm writing this from Mexico because it's raining. And your father is taking a nap. So I'm drinking a beer called "Sol" on the balcony. "Sol" means sun in Spanish. There is no "Sol" in the sky right now.
But even though the weather is shitty, it's all good. Because I'm in Mexico! And I've had a really fun time so far.
I must admit that I am not nearly as proficient in Spanish as I thought. In fact, it takes approximately 15 seconds for me to comprehend even the most simple question. By the time I figure it out, these nice people have already concluded that I'm simple minded and moved on to English. "Como esta?............How are you, you simple minded American woman? How about a cerveza?.....That means beer, you idiot."
I'm ad-libbing. Nobody has called me those names to my face. But I'm pretty sure that's what they're thinking. Cause that's sort of what I'm thinking about the whole situation. I'm an idiot.
Regardless, I'm doing OK. I've seen far worse. The Canadians. I watched a Canadian guy walk around in a bikini top and speedo yesterday. He thought he was funny. Canadians aren't funny. The Mexicans and Brits here agree with the simple minded American woman on that one. We all agree that he was a douchebag.
I did get into a bit of trouble myself, though. I met some super cool people and stayed out too late with them and your Aunt Michelle. Your father was mad at me. But, listen. I don't get out much these days. Go big or go home, right? The trouble part kind of sucked, but it was totally worth it. And I blamed it all on Michelle anyway. That girl has been trouble since third grade. That's probably why I love her.
We also went zip lining in the jungle. We were only 70 feet up. That didn't sound bad when I was booking it on the internet. Until I climbed a rickety 70 foot tower in the middle of the Mexican jungle. I'm pretty sure the construction standards are different in Mexico. The thing was made of tree trunks tied together and was blowing in the wind. The only reason I actually agreed to fling myself off the equivalent of a seven story building was because I was more afraid of standing on the damn tower for one more freaking second. And because the tour guide pushed me.
But I'm totally glad I did it. There's nothing like flying through mid-air above the jungle. And I felt like a total badass because our tour guide told us a story on the way back about a lady who pooped her pants on the zip lines. And I am very proud to say that I did not poop my pants. Thank God for small favors.
So, in a nutshell, this place is pretty bad ass. You should totally come here some day. Maybe I will invite you next time. When you're mature enough to go zip lining with us. Without pooping your pants. Because nothing says maturity like throwing yourself off of a seven story tower made of tree trunks in the middle of the Mexican jungle.
I love you.
Mom
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