Sometimes . . . I ruin adventures.

So my husband loves to go on, what he calls, adventures. I know what you're thinking: I'm either married to an eight year-old or to Indiana Jones. Let's just compromise and say he's a bit of both.

I have ruined a couple of our adventures because, well, I can be fragile. By that, I mean I have motion sickness and am absolutely not a good sport about it. I also go from zero to starving in like a millisecond. He loves that. I'm not necessarily proud of this "not being a good sport" thing but this blog makes me feel like I'm in the confessional room on The Real World (back when it was good, obviously).

When we first moved to San Francisco, my husband and I drove up to Point Reyes. Point Reyes is a beautiful peninsula about an hour and a half drive on a ridiculously curvy road. Ridiculously. My very own explorer extraordinaire had the route mapped out for us. I will spare you the details but you can imagine how this scenic drive went for him and his adventure-ruiner. Let's just say I have not returned to beautiful Point Reyes and I don't intend to unless they make a straighter freaking road. I know California's broke but I personally think it should be on Arnold's "to do" list. I know what you're thinking, Why would your husband make you go with him when he knows you'll just get sick and ruin everything? The answer, my friends: naive optimism. Remember: a hybrid of an eight year-old and Indiana Jones. It's a dynamite combination.

I have a long history of ruining adventures with my fragility. I'm like a peach.

I was six when we took our first ski trip. We were living in Madrid, Spain at the time and decided to go somewhere in the French Alps (I feel ridiculous even writing this because it sounds snobby. Please feel better about me knowing that I was in a bright purple one-piece snowsuit and my dad was decked out in neon colors . . . see below). Of course the road was brutal and I threw up all over my purple snowsuit. My father, ever the problem-solver, had me go out and roll in the snow to get cleaned off. Awesome. Despite my vomiting and later peeing myself during ski school, I actually enjoyed my first skiing adventure. That purple snowsuit went through a lot.

So yeah, I'm fragile. It's a miracle I am still here.

 Sorry about the quality- best my secretary could do. . .