We’re staying with Mr. Campbell’s aunt in Montego Bay. She has no internet access. We managed to find a computer in the back of a little grocery store this afternoon, so it looks like any postings I make for the next 9 days will be very sporadic. And since it’s a true vacation, I’m going to post about whatever I want when I do manage to post.
So the first thing I want to post about today is the beautiful full-breasted Jamaican woman we encountered at the Chinese restaurant that Aunt Sybil took us to on Saturday night. She was all bust. Bigger than J cup bust. And she wore a Marilyn Monroe type white halter dress in a jersey knit that barely contained her. It was very easy to judge her based solely upon her revealing dress, but if you took the time to notice the rest of her, she wore glasses and looked like a smart teenager. She had another girlfriend with her as a chaperone on what appeared to be a date with a very sweet guy. I decided that this young lady was just beginning the journey of figuring out how to look simultaneously amazing and appropriate, given her assets. After that, I couldn’t click my tongue and shake my head with Aunt Sybil.
The second thing I want to post about is how we spent Sunday. We drove an hour and a half to an Anglican church in a tiny village where Mr. Campbell’s father’s parents are buried. Until yesterday, I never realized that Mr. Campbell was the first grandchild on both sides of his family and how special he was to everyone. His father’s father would make a six-hour drive to Kingston just because he felt he was the only one who could cut Mr. Campbell’s hair the right way. He was Mr. Campbell’s hero. Mr. Campbell would go everywhere with him when he stayed at their house. The only time he didn’t drive with his grandfather was the day his grandfather died in a car accident in 1968. These are the kinds of stories that make me so glad we’re visiting Jamaica. (Nothing after the jump.)
