Aug. 25, 2008 at 9:57am
(part two of the epic saga)
Right. So, there I was, in Florida after a long and jostling fight--er, flight, and there we were, playing in the sun, in hte heat, in the pool. Frolicking, cavorting. Then there were clouds. Lots of them. And hurricane warnings, and I became intimate with Fay, though never really going all the way.
How does that work, you wonder?
Well, basically a hurricane is a mass of clouds, winds, and precipitation, and it all sort of swirls around while traveling a path. Mostly, most hurricanes like Orlando, which is sort of smack dab in the center of a land mass that's sort of like, I dunno, drenched in hurricane pheromones or something. Usually, the center of the hurricane --the eye-- is calm, more or less, while havoc is wreaked all around. We were stuck in the havoc, and then the storm decided to dance around, do-si-do style, all around Orlando, which stuck us in the havoc even longer.
Typically, Florida late summer does this whole, 3 p.m. thunder storm thing with poop-like regularity. The storm passes, the sun comes up, and then in the morning all is sunny and bright. Fay decided that there would be no sunny and bright for us, leaving us wet, windy, wet, windy, wet, windy, lather, rinse, repeat.
We shopped. The mall nearby was like the area by the Tacoma Mall, with Jo Ann Fabrics, Cost Plus World Market, Old Navy, Best Buy, Ulta (kinda' like a Sephora, but without philosophy.) So, yeah. We shopped, and I might as well have been in Tacoma, where, as I understand it, there had been sun and heat (and some rain) while we were gone.
And then, five days of freaking rain later, the day of our departure, the sun came out (cue choir of angels.) Another bit o' fun in the pool, and then it was the frantic harried ohmygodihavetogetallthiscrapbackintomysuitcase,HOW???- game, and then the airport. Pretty much, the kid's last chance at theme park splendor: the Universal Studios store. SpongeBob --with whom she was quite intimate during vacation-- was all around us like Fay had been, so she got the Mr Potatohead-like action figure, whined for more, more, more, and then we were waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Bad omen #1-- thunder and lightening en route to the 'port. Bad omen #2-- ambulance on the tarmac. #3-- ambulance next to the plane you're supposed to be boarding, 15 minutes after your slotted departure time.
We made it on, eventually, we had a great, funny, attentive flight crew (I heart Alaska Airlines) and all was well.
Home, we are, in time to see the splendor of...rain. And more rain. Even my petunias are sick of it; the butterflies that hatched in bloody (who knew insects could make so much mess) glory are unable to go out and play, the gerbil is going through a seasonal affective disorder scratching frenzy before the appropriate season to be disordered, and even the dogs are done with it (though not enough to just stay inside; no, they like to go out and get their paws nice and wet and dirty so that I can clean in a Macbeth "out damn spot" sort of way.
Ahhh, home sweet home.
musing her way through arts, culture, dining, shopping, exercising, and parenting, all while wearing a pungent, truffle-like aroma.