The flight home was fine, well as fine as any cramped, chartered, red-eye flight can be. I spent the 5 hours wedged between a snoring man weighing in a 200 lbs and a terrified valley-girl, didn't sleep much.

Unbelievably the weather seems to have deteriorated in canada, it's now -45 degrees, and windy. My sandals and t-shirt are not adequate.

I phone home to get a lift, to be told by my son, that my husband has taken his mother to the hospital. Plan B. I get ahold of my sister in law, and beg a ride.

When I get home, I find we have an extra child (his parents have been hospitalised with the flu) and a mountain of laundry (the dryer broke while I was gone). So glad to be home. Pueto Vallarta is starting to look a lot like Shangri-La.