Revlon

The warm weather, light breeze, and clear skies today reminded Roxy and me of our days in Spain.

With the Significant Other gone to a car show, we were left with the option of staying home or hopping on a bus and taking to the nearest beach.

We chose the latter.

Sadly, we were ill prepared for the stifling heat inside a bus crammed with others hankering to take advantage of the last days of “summer” sun.

The forty-five minute bus ride quickly turned into what seemed an eternal ride into hell.

And I’m not just talking about the body heat generated by forty people slathered in sun tan oil.

I’m referring to our “seat buddy,” a young lady who initiated conversation with, “Oh my God, I like your lippy! What color is that?”

Disappointed with my quick reply of, “Vaseline,” our traveling companion thought it her life mission to instruct me on every, and folks, I mean every shade of red lipstick on the market.

Halfway through her oral presentation on the history of lipstick, she stopped and excitedly chirped, “What am I thinking? I better write down the names of these shades so you don’t forget them!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that most days, my idea of lipstick means biting down on my lips a couple of times.

“Rimmel makes a beautiful shade called ‘Red Alert’ and it’s quite affordable.”

It was obvious that our new friend had observed Roxy’s threadbare leash and my faded shorts.

I found my eyes starting to close as she excitedly praised the staying power of Revlon’s “Kiss Me Coral 750.”

“And Body Shop also makes good lipsticks and they don’t do animal testing!”

Her sharp, high-pitched squeal made me sit upright and for the first time, I thought I heard Roxy growl.

Thankfully, as Roxy and I peered out the window, we caught sight of the sand dunes.

I slowly exhaled as I bid farewell to the bubbly lipstick lover.

Just as we were about to walk away, she shoved a paper in my hand.

“You really shouldn’t use Vaseline on your lips. It has petroleum jelly, you know. Don’t forget your list!”

Walking swiftly lest she follow us, Roxy and I headed for the dunes.

I stretched out my arms to greet the sun and inhaled deeply, eager to smell the salt in the air.

It wasn’t Spain, I wasn’t sipping a glass of vino, and Spanish men weren’t whispering, “Hola, guapa” (Hello, Beautiful), but we were staring at blue water and walking on sand.

Smiling as I curled my toes around the warm sand, I realized that today that was all that mattered.