Road Trip

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Need to Get Away

I haven’t felt much like blogging because:

1. My dad is in the hospital. He’s been there for weeks, battling pneumonia that just won’t go away. He’s on oxygen and forbidden from moving around (he doesn’t have enough breath for any exertion at all). We went to visit him last weekend. He was happy to see the girls, of course, but he slept a lot and the mask made communication nearly impossible.
2. Meanwhile, we are to go on vacation this Saturday for a week. I’m worried that he will take a turn for the worst while I’m away. Or before, for that matter. The girls have been looking forward to this for months. Last year I had to abort a trip to LA because my nephew died. Dear Husband and the girls will go without me, and that will be a great disappointment to them. And of course I want a vacation, too. But I want to be there if my dad needs me.
3. I have to have an excisional biopsy. What the stereotactic biopsy revealed is benign, but it can’t be left and watched because it will inevitably transform into cancerous cells. So, another excisional biopsy it is. And there’s always the possibility that the tissue recovered in this will show ductal carcinoma, in which case I will have to seriously consider another mastectomy. Given my history I don’t think I would feel safe with a lumpectomy or something less radical. Sigh. In any case, I will be revisiting tomoxifen. The oncologist wasn’t all that keen on it, because it offers either no or slim benefits for ductal carcinoma (studies are mixed), which has a low recurrence. But if it does recur… Double sigh. On the positive, I guess I would have a matching and gravity resistant set.
4. Summer. I hate living in a sauna. I loathe being outdoors for even a few minutes while the hot wet blanket of air closes around me. I hate the sticky vegetation and persistent wasps. I hate garbage ripening in the heat. I hate the sickly smell of cut grass. I hate climbing into my car and gasping while I wait for the air conditioner to kick in. Summer in Georgia is utterly disgusting.

So I’m a bit draggy these days. Did I mention that school starts August 9? Preparations for that are breathing down my neck.

I really want that vacation, even though vacationing with kids is more like engaging in a strategic exercise than actually relaxing.

La Jolla on Someone Else's Budget

There's nothing like a week at a beach resort to make me wish I had rethought that English major. Not really. I'm happy with my life (don't faint) and am not usually envious of the wealthy. But sometimes I get to experience a life not my own, thanks to those who chose a practical route to financial success while I was writing poetry. We went to La Jolla courtesy of Dear Husband's parents, and stayed in a very pleasant resort right on the beach.

What's not to like about doing not much of anything on a beach? I mean, besides the rather odd fishy smell, the dead stingrays that wash ashore and the giant mounds of sinister looking seaweed? I had the best time at a beach without actually going into the water. DramaQueen and Firecracker got to run around with their cousins, and I didn't have to worry that they would be kidnapped. I thought that only happened in movies or the 1950s. They had a chance to see their uncles and be fussed over. Firecracker was particularly excited to see her Pop-pop, and she followed him around when she wasn't following around her uncles Hip-hop 1 and Hip-hop 2, or the boy cousins. Hip-hop 1 has his own business in concert promotion, and he made DramaQueen's day by promising to get her Fergie's autograph. He made Firecracker's day be giving her a piggy back ride along the shore. You can see their different priorities.

I got a massage. DramQueen went out in a kayak and saw leopard sharks. Firecracker dug many holes in the sand and lapped up everyone's affection and attention. We had s'mores on the beach, and a bbq. We paid a small fortune to wait in lines at LegoLand. We met Dear Husband's Brother B's new girlfriend, who is beautiful and disgustingly athletic and has two lovely children who never whine or misbehave that I can tell, and who were both terribly sweet to the girls (here's hoping B and Beautiful Girlfriend get married). I restrained myself from asking FIL if by some chance he does the books for Misha Collins (I have to maintain some sort of dignity). On the fourth we went up to a family's room and watched fireworks over the beach. I had a lovely chat with Cousin Oncologist about the book he and his wife are writing. I had two very excellent mojitos and some unusually lucious strawberries.

Now we're back, and reality is a knockin' on the door.