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And I had a “this isn’t normal” moment. That thought stayed with me as I popped back up to the surface and then let the very handsome gondolier fish me out of the water. I remember thinking: I don’t think the average woman knows what it’s like to be pulled out of a Venice Canal.
It’s not like that experience was the first time I recognized that my life was far from average.
My life hasn’t been normal for years. A few months after graduating from high school, I traveled to Greece on a very small budget, and wrote up a sequence of articles that ended up being a smash hit with the online travel community.
Ever since that article went big, I’ve traveled the globe. I’ve had the chance to do all sorts of weird things, like squish grapesbetween my toes at a winery in Paris and watch hundred-year-old turtles amble along a beach on the Galapagos Islands.
But this morning might just make the top of my “not normal” list.
This morning is definitely weird.
I’m in a yurt in the middle of the desert, tugging one of my favorite sandals from a baby goat’s mouth while my fake-boyfriend pretends to sleep, across the room.
How many women have lived through an experience like this?
I’ll hazard a guess: Zero.
I know Cole’s not really sleeping because I caught him peeking at me a couple of seconds ago.
Soon, I’m going to have to drag him out of this yurt to breakfast, where we’ll have to keep up the act of pretending we’re a couple.
Last night at dinner we argued about nearly everything. That came naturally enough and seemed to be a good cover. At least, Skye seemed fooled by our act. But this morning’s activities might be tougher. After breakfast, Skye promised to teach a class called “couple’s yin yoga”. She described it as a chance to align our chakras, which makes me nervous.
Where does she think my chakras are, exactly?
What if I don’t want to align them with Cole’s?
“Iknowyou’re awake,” I tell Cole when I catch him take another peek at me.
He groans. “Nope. It’s not time to start the day.”
“You have half an hour before the fun begins.” With one final tug, I manage to free my shoe from Blue’s mouth. Besides a few bite marks on one strap, it’s damage-free.
Blue is so cute; he could eat holes through all my favorite sweaters and I wouldn’t even get mad for a second.
He bleats at me, gives me a winning goat-smile, and then canters away.
Myheart.
As he runs across the yurt, Cole groans again. “Control your new pet… I’m try’n to sleep.”
“Ournew pet.”
“Heck, no.”
“Ours,” I insist.
I’m going to need help when it really comes time to figure out what to do with this goat. I can’t really keep him because I travel too much.
Cole has experience with this kind of thing. His family owns a ranch with a bunch of cattle on it, and chickens too, I’m pretty sure.
I’m hoping he’ll help me come up with a plan.
I know he’s as enamored with Blue as I am. I could see it in his eyes last night, even though he tried his best to maintain a cool, tough-guy attitude. He got the “Lovin’ Eyes” as my Grandma Georgia calls the look.
I know what Lovin’ Eyes look like, and Cole had a bad case of them last night.
“Up and at ‘em,” I tell Cole, as I swipe up my phone just before Blue gets his mouth around it.
