Wednesday, July 4
After a quick, two-hour flight, Zappa picked me up at the airport, and we proceeded to spend another two hours in the car, driving to meet my dad and my niece in the small town where we thought we’d have a little dinner before turning around, with my niece in tow, back to my sister’s house. The problem with that plan was that, on the 4th of July, the only place open was a “Chinese” buffet, which, in the Midwest, consists of deep-fried everything with a few cashews sprinkled on top. But the alone with my sister was nice, and I caught her up on our latest count. My dad is always a hoot, and he filled us in on work and dealing with the insurance company for a recent fender-bender. He gave me $60 as a belated birthday present. I also gave him a belated Father’s Day gift, so we got all of that out of the way. By the time we got back to my sister’s, my niece–I’ll call her Ariel because (shh, don’t tell anyone) she’s a
little bit mermaid obsessed–was nowhere near ready for bed. We all went to bed late, and apparently Zappa and I kept A awake with our middle-of-the-night chatter, which is the same thing we used to get in trouble for when we were in high school and shared a room.
Thursday, July 5
Zappa had to work, so A and I spent the whole day together. We slept a little late, had breakfast, and then each of us spent some time reading. My mom always used to say that, if it were physically possible, she would have sworn that A was my child–we’re that much alike. Because it was so hot, we stayed in the apartment most of the day, but we did make our own popsicles (two mango for A and two cucumber for Zappa and me) and took her miniature pottery wheel out on the balcony to make a couple of pots. She showed me her Barbies and explained how each of them was related (“This is her sister; she’s 5, and this is her other sister…”) and asked if she could give the cat a bath, to which I replied, “That sounds like something to do when your mom gets home.” She then introduced me to one of her favorite shows, an Australian series about three teenage mermaids.
Zappa came home about 4 with pool passes, and we went to Target (or “Tar-zhay” as we pronounce it in our family because we’re classy like that) to get A a new swim suit. When we got back, I called Hubby to see if he’d been able to get his injections. He hadn’t, but was planning to try again on Friday.
Friday, July 6
We went to the pool! and got too much sun (except on my pallid, ghost-white legs, where I would prefer to have a little color). Ariel made a new friend in the pool, a girl the same age who will be going to the same school next year and is also mermaid-obsessed. After all that sun, we wanted to soak in the A/C somewhere, so we headed to the mall, where there’s a pet store that Z & A frequent, just to play with the puppies. We had a little play time with an Italian greyhound–who didn’t play so much as shiver and snuggle–and a miniature Schnauzer.
My dad was supposed to come up Friday night after he got off work (the man is 75 years old and still works overtime every week), but he was–understandably–too tired to make the drive that night. Instead, we popped popcorn, threw in some Reese’s Pieces, and watched Jumanji on Netflix.
I also talked to Hubby that night, and he was able to get his injections at his primary’s office. Apparently no-questions-asked, unlike the other clinics he had tried and failed to convince to give him the injections earlier in the week.
Saturday, July 7
Dad arrived in the morning, dog in hand, which thrilled A. We went to breakfast at Perkins, apparently my dad’s favorite restaurant. A and Z went back to the pool, but I’d had quite enough sun, so dad and I stayed in and watched the movie I had given him for Father’s Day, a documentary about a Brazilian Formula One driver. It also gave me a chance to tell him about how treatments were going.
Later that evening, we went roller skating. My dad watched, but Zappa and I, although neither of us could remember the last time we’d put on a pair of skates, joined A, making counter-clockwise loop after loop around the rink, the two of us alternating between brief moments of confident grace and stumbling around like newborn giraffes. Neither of us fell, though, which has to be a point of pride. If you truly want to feel your age, just head down to your local roller rink and give it your best shot. My knees and back felt like those of an 80-year-old by the time we left.
Sunday, July 8
Concert Day! This really needs its own post–with pictures. But part of getting to the concert involved a 4.5-hour road-trip, dropping A off with her dad halfway through. Zappa and I listened to a 90s alternative station on Pandora for a good chunk of that drive, which helped get us in the mood.
Monday, July 9
After spending far too much time driving around an unfamiliar city looking for Panera (my sister loves their souffles), we hit the road again, this time heading straight back to the airport. Only a 5-hour drive. The great thing about Zappa is she never seems to run out of things to say, so the time seemed to fly. We listened to music the whole way, singing along (apparently the concert did not ruin our voices). I’ve decided Young the Giant secretly write songs about infertility. Have you listened to the lyrics? “Cough Syrup”? Come on, that has to be for thinning cervical mucus.
If I could find a way to see this straight
I’d run away
To some fortune that I should have found by now
And so I run now to the things they said could restore me
Restore life the way it should be
I’m waiting for this cough syrup to come down
Life’s too short to even care at all oh
I’m losing my mind losing my mind losing control
And what about “My Body”? My Body tells me no, but I won’t quit/Cause I want more, cause I want more. My body tells me no every damned three-and-a-half weeks.
Anyway, I finally made it home to my husband. Who is always so excited to see me when I’ve been away. How can I not love that?