 |
| Offshore fishing near Isla Mujeres and glowing! |
My dad peered over the top of his reading glasses, levelling his gaze at his naïve teenage daughter, “No,” he admonished, “Horses sweat. Men perspire. Ladies glow.”
I guess I
was born a horse.
I am about
99.5% certain that my very proper, very stern and very formidable grandmother,
Nellie Blanche Lyons Gobert, taught my father that expression. She passed away when I was about eight, but I
still remember her upright bearing and impeccable manners. She was a school principal, one of the first female school principals in Canada. One did not mess with our
grandmother!
 |
| Nellie Blanche Lyons Gobert about 1915 |
Unlike my grandmother, I
glow like an out-of-control nuclear reactor.
Starting about now, June, I usually change my clothing two to three
times a day. From the skin out –
everything!
Normally, both Lawrie and I
putter around the house, fixing this, polishing that, applying a coat of paint
to a scuffed wall. Doing little
tasks. Tinkering.
He manages to maintain his cool, barely breaking
a sweat. Pardon me, I meant to say - barely
perspiring. I, on the other hand, have a
nice, bright pink face and a good, healthy pore-cleansing glow going on.
 |
| Working on our Summerland house entrance, 2006 |
In Canada, if
we were doing a major project like tiling the bathroom or renovating the front
entrance, I could work up a really good glow. Living in the tropics, it occurs more
frequently.
Today, on Isla Mujeres, Mexico, I fiddled around with
painting one short wall on our upper street-side deck. By the time I had finished, I was soaked
through.
Angel, one of three young guys
replacing the netting over our palapas, looked at me with a silly who-me grin on his face, innocently
asking: “Tienes mucho calor, amiga?”
Si! You bet your sweet bippy! ¡Mucho calor!
 |
| The cool dude! It's May and he's comfy in a thick shirt. |
The upside is
that mosquitoes can easily locate me. I have
a flashing neon-red heat-signature. Free! All-you-can-eat-buffet.
They bypass
Lawrie, preferring to swarm my overheated follicles. If mosquitoes had lips, they would smack them
together in anticipation of a feast.
The local mosquito population is very appreciative of my
contribution to their well-being.
 |
| Summerland BC - entrance all done! |
And to
ensure the lovely little mosquitoes don’t over-indulge on my DNA, I spray every
bit of my exposed skin with Off Family
repelente de insectos.
In Canada, Lawrie
pampered me with nice, expensive perfumes. They were always a much-appreciated birthday
or Christmas gift. Somehow, insect
repellent doesn’t have quite the same cachet and isn’t nearly as romantic when
received as a gift.
On some
level, I think my grandmother would have been proud of me, remembering that
ladies glow, apparently, we don’t sweat. But one thing puzzles me. How did
she manage to remain lady-like, raising three active children in the early part
of the 1900s when women wore long, hot, cumbersome dresses every day, all day?
Just
thinking about that makes me glow. I
think I’ll go and have another refreshing swim in our pool.
 |
| One small wall - and I'm glowing! |
Hasta Luego
Lynda and Lawrie
Murder. Mayhem. Revenge. Romance.
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