What Not To Do on a Hot Summer Day

Things not to do in the deep south, when it's nearly 100 degrees and about 90% humidity:

Run a marathon
Have a camp fire
Go to Six Flags

Guess which I did today? Three days ago, while sitting in my comfy air-conditioned house, my friend Tracy asked if Chase and I would like to join her and her two sons at Six Flags this weekend. In the air-conditioned house, the idea sounded great. When she told me she had coupons (gotta have the coups) to get us in for $10 each, even better.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice said: "Are you serious? In 100 degree heat?" But as is far too common, I squelched that voice of reason, telling myself that roller coasters offer lots of wind that is refreshingly cooling. And while this is true, the total 3 minutes that we spent on actual wind-refreshing rides wasn't quite enough to offset the hours spent in absolute broiling heat.

We arrived and hit the first roller coaster we saw, the Georgia Cyclone. This rickety piece of wooden thrills is an old fave of mine. And the line took a mere 20 minutes to get to the front. 20 minutes of me regaling the three boys with my work experience at Six Flags. It was my first job (the ugly truth comes out: I'm a carnie. Don't judge me; I gave up velcro shoes a long time ago). 20 minutes of standing in line and spinning carnie tales, and I was sweating like I'd just stepped out of a sauna. Not pretty.

And look, friends, I am not a sweater. And by sweater, I don't mean a piece of clothing, obviously. I'm not someone who sweats a lot. No Sweaty-McSweats-a-lot here. But today if you'd seen me, you'd be calling me a Bald-Faced Liar. Wow, it was a whole new level of H-O-T. So by the time we got to the actual ride, I couldn't wait. Here it is, I thought, the cooling portion of the day. And for the next 30 seconds, the breeze was heavenly but unfortunately the ride was excruciating. I'm not a fraidy-cat and love a good coaster. But this beast made me feel like my insides had been shaken up like a martini. What the hell? Are the weather worn tracks atop wooden slats covered in peeling paint advertising the coaster's age just that beaten up now or did I get old? Yeah, I agree--it's the former.

We proceeded to the Log Ride, Mindbender, Highland Swings, and Batman Ride. By the time we got through those, I looked like a hussie at a wet t-shirt contest. We decided to trudge our way to Thunder River, hoping for a cool splash off. The splash off became a soak down since I ended up in the wettest seat on the ride and was drowned from head to toe; it was excellent.

The last couple hours of Six Flags heaven were spent in the water park, Skull Island. Thank God for this gem. Too bad it's in the very back of the park but beggars can't be choosers. On our way out, Chase coerced me out of $2 to play the basketball game, which I spent 15 minutes telling him was a colossal waste of money. What's th' boy go and do? Sink his first shot and earn himself a Duke basketball. The show-off.

Great to spend the day with my favorite 11 year old and good friends. But lord, we gotta find something a little less sweaty to do next time.

Vacation Withdrawals

Hello friends!

I know what you've been thinking: what a slacker this girl is. Who starts a blog and then lets it sit, un-updated for, like, nearly two weeks? I don't blame you. I'm disgusted with myself.

Ok, I'm really not. And it's because I have a really good reason for not having updated my blog in over a week: I was without communication (telephonic, textonic or blogonic) because I was sailing around the world (alright, the Caribbean) on a big old cruise ship. And if you think that technology today has advanced to the degree that I could have been blogging away with my right hand while sipping a CocoLoco frozen fruity concoction with my left (or vice versa cause I'm talented like that), you would be right. However, if you think that AT&T wouldn't take the opportunity to gouge you with through-the-nose charges for such luxury, you would be wrong. So alas, the vacation forced me to be away from technology for a complete week. Not a bad gig, really. Once I got through the withdrawal symptoms.

Now I'm back and so happy to see my menagerie; however, I'm going through a different kind of withdrawal: Surf and Sand Withdrawals. I'm particularly envious of independently wealthy people at the moment, wishing I could be one and spend 51 weeks in the Caribbean and 1 week working, instead of vice versa. The week was relaxing and we visited beautiful locations, best of all getting to show our son Chase our favorite place in the entire world: St John in the USVI. He loved it like we do. We had excellent weather on a superb boat (Freedom of the Seas by Royal Caribbean) with cool entertainment, the most hysterical cruise director who kept us all laughing, plenty of pool chairs, multiple cans of 30 spf that prevented the sunburn I'm notorious for getting, and lots of waiters walking around bellowing "It's CocoLoco time!" Man, I miss those guys.

Here's a little peek into the week...

Me and BFF Heather, getting ready to set sail:



Hubby, Chase and Me – how can you not be smiling on a cruise??



Three words: Where’s the buffet? No really: Belly Flop Competition. Believe it or not, this guy was not the winner…altho you gotta give him some style points.



Paradise on earth: St John, USVI



Chase demonstrating his (as he puts it) mad skills at the best place on earth: St. John

Health & Happiness: Don't Take it for Granted

What a weekend--sunny days and plans for being outside and celebrating with friends. And then, in the span of a phone call, utter speechlessness over the unfairness of life.

We're one week down and one to go with Chase's camp experience. It's been tough as hell to be away from him, to have no communication other than the written letter. I've sent him several; I've received two, amazingly. But not seeing him or even hearing his voice...now that's hard. It's been a smack of reality, what life would be like if we had no children. And I don't like it a bit. Even worse, since I know I do have a child and I know how he looks, his personality, his quirks and mannerisms, being completely without him now offers some tiny understanding of what it would be like to have and then lose a child. And that has always been what I consider the most horrific of all life experiences. Thank God, Thank God, Thank God that is not my situation. And then, in the midst of thanking my stars that my child is merely three hours away, safe and sound, my close friend Tracy has found out that her one year old niece is most likely dying.

Abigail had a basic childhood cold about nine months ago; it was persistent and, it turns out, not just a basic cold. She was diagnosed with leukemia. And not only that, but she had the far worse type, called AML. It's rare (two in 100,000 cases of leukemia are AML), it's aggressive and has a propensity to return, tough to beat. Her best chances were to receive chemotherapy and then ideally, a bone marrow transplant. Amazingly, her older sister was a perfect bone marrow match.

Months of hospital stays, ration after ration of horrible chemotherapy and the side-effects that go with it, constant fear that the disease would be stronger than the medications. She survived the chemo and a few months ago, Abigail had a bone marrow transplant, with her sister acting as her possible savior.

Everything looked good afterwards--we thanked the Lord, thanked our lucky stars, praised her older sister and believed we'd never take for granted again a healthy child.

Last Friday, a slight fever triggered the discovery of the worst: the leukemia has returned. Not even 100 days since her transplant, the doctors say this is very, very bad. There are only a couple options now, neither of which look good. They would be incredibly harsh and have such remote odds of success, they instead could actually be what ultimately steals her life. Tracy's sister and brother in law aren't sure it's worth putting their little girl through it. And if they don't, they're looking at weeks Abigail has left, a month or two, tops.

It's a tragedy beyond words, a situation that every parent places at the top of their most dreaded list. I remember a professor of mine in college talking about death. As we listened, he told us all that death was not the worse thing in the world. What, we wondered? How could it not be? "How about watching your child die? Isn't that worse that losing your own life?" Bingo, I agreed. That is indeed the worst thing life could hand you.

Do you have a child? Of any age? Hug him or her or call them if you're not nearby, be thankful because a happy, healthy life isn't a given. And there are people out there who would give anything to trade places with you. And after you hug your child, send a prayer up for little Abigail and her family.

You Think YOU'RE Tired?

I dropped Chase off at camp yesterday. So as to not dwell on my keening and the acute sense of loss I feel knowing my only child will be gone for so long, I will opt instead to share with you a great email story I just received. I loved this:

An older, tired-looking dog wandered into my yard. I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home and was well taken care of.

He calmly came over to me, I gave him a few pats on his head; he then followed me onto my porch. Loving dogs, I let him come with me into my house, and he slowly walked down the hall, curled up in the corner and fell asleep.

An hour later, he got up, walked to my door, and I let him out.

The next day he was back, greeted me in my yard, walked inside and resumed his spot in the hall and again slept for about an hour. This continued off and on for several weeks.

Curious, one day I pinned a note to his collar: "I would like to find out who the owner of this wonderful sweet dog is and ask if you are aware that almost every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap."

The next day he arrived for his nap, with a different note pinned to his collar: "He lives in a home with six children, 2 under the age of 3 - he's trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?"