Savannah - Day 1

Vacation was incredible. I've never felt so relaxed. At one point we were on the beach and I asked Blair what time is was. "Don't know," he said, without opening his eyes. "Does it matter?" It didn't, and that's exactly how vacation should be.

I took reams of paper with me in case the urge to write the great American Novel should strike while I roamed streets dripping in Spanish moss. It didn't, but I did end up taking some notes on our time spent in Savannah and then on Jekyll Island. I'll spend the next several days filling in some of the high (and low) lights.

DAY 1
Neither of us like to spend time in the car. Me because I get bored and cranky and my husband because he has to sit next to me while I'm bored and cranky. So we do all we can to make sure I'm unconscious for as much of the drive as possible.

It's 6 hours to Savannah from where we live. On Sunday we arose at 4:30 am and were on the road by 5:32 (Blair pointing out that we were 2 minutes behind schedule). I slept on and off until we stopped for breakfast around 9. This is a great strategy. Breakfast makes you think you're still just starting out but we already had more than half the drive behind us at this point. Little road tip for you.

We arrived in Savannah just after noon, parked the car, and then walked. And walked. And walked some more. Savannah, with its many squares, is made for walking. We easily walked 4-5 miles that afternoon. Oh, and we ate. And that sums up our first day. We ate and we walked.

And we had a great room. We stayed at the Foley House Inn, rated one of ten most romantic inns in the country by Vacation magazine. It was built in 1896 and doesn't allow kids--my kind of place. I spent a lot of time out on our balcony watching people walk their dogs and again, loving that Spanish moss.

I will say Savannah is perhaps the dog-friendliest city I've ever been to. EVERYONE had their dogs out, all breeds, all shapes and sizes. Didn't matter if we were at Forsyth Park, City Market, the Riverfront, or anywhere else. Everywhere there were dogs. Loved it.

We collapsed into bed (after enjoying a joint soak in the jetted tub) and awoke to a dawning sun outside our canopy windows. Life was ours to enjoy. Until we tried to get out of bed and realized every muscle in our legs was cramped from the stupendous amount of walking we had been congratulating ourselves on only the day before. Age will get you.

Continued tomorrow...

Body functions returning to normal

The back is much better after a good night's sleep. Still the occasional twinge of pain when I sit up or even think about doing any sort of form of manual labor, but other than that I think I'm okay.

My new obsession is skin cancer. I have an oval circle about halfway down my chest that looks like someone just pressed their thumb into my skin and it left a red mark. Only it's been there now for about a month. And within the last three days I've seen 2 different ads reminding people to get checked for skin cancer. There's a free screening at Wake Forest University on June 2nd that I'll go to. I really don't think it's anything, but the fact that I've seen those ads and have been thinking about getting checked anyway sort of freaks me out...

The blog will be on hiatus for a week as we head for Savannah and the beach (to soak up more sun and further the cancer along). I just finished reading Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil and those Savannah people seem like a freaky bunch. I'm looking forward to it.

Preparing to overpack. For a five day trip I'll pack no less than twelve outfits and end up wearing maybe six of them. That whole minimalist thing just doesn't sit well with me.

The cats know we're leaving. How do I know this? Because they've been unusually affectionate the last three days. They swarm around us and hop into our laps, on the bed, on top of the kitchen table, anything to get our attention. It's working on me. My babies! How can I leave them? I think they just do it to ensure I won't have a good time because I'm too busy wondering if by leaving them I'm scarring them for life.

Time to go lay on the couch. Even though my back feels fine today, why take chances? Best if I just lay around and call out for the occasional hot tea or bon-bon. After all, what's the point of being sick if you can't milk it?

Threw My Back Out

Ow. Ow. Ow. And again... ow.

I've done something horrible to my back. I spent 10 minutes this morning curled up on the floor of our exercise room, unable to stand and trying to formulate a plan on how to lure the cats to bring the phone to me so I could call an ambulance. My attempts at psychic communication with my felines were either a dire failure or--more likely--they were just ignoring me.

Not sure what happened. I went to power yoga this morning, as I do every Friday morning. Fine, no problems there. Then I came home and pulled out my exercise ball to do some crunches and weight lifting exercises. I did a few squats, stretched out my arms, then I draped myself over the ball. As my back uncurled I was literally thinking, "Ahh..this feels sooo good..." when BAM! Something in my lower back snapped hard and fast enough that I actually screamed.

Too bad someone with a camera wasn't around b/c I probably could win a grand prize on one of those funniest home video shows as I tried to slide off the ball and onto the floor. Only I couldn't slide off or make any movement without excruciating pain from my lower spine. I finally managed to sort of heave the ball out from under me and I dropped to all fours. The plan was to drop to the floor, but I literally couldn't get down there. The only acceptable position was on all fours with my back arched.

Eventually I deep-breathed enough to get myself to the floor. Bad move. Now I was stuck. Couldn't roll over or sit up. More deep breathing. Finally stood up - ow, ow, ow! Back to the floor. And up. And back to the floor.

During this whole time the exercise tape I'd put in was running, so as I'm trying to uncurl from the fetal position, some toned man named "Gunner" is yelling at me from the VCR to "suck in those abs like somebody hot is coming! C'mon people, let's DO IT!" It struck me as funny that 10 minutes before I was very concerned about my abs. Now I was just hoping to be able to shower at some point without help.

It's been almost two hours and I'm up and about. Still stiff, and I notice I'm holding my back very stiff and straight, trying not to do any bending. On the bright side, I see this as a free ticket not to exercise for the next few days. On the darker side, I hope it clears up because we're heading out on vacation next week.

Stay tuned...

Attack of the Killer Brown Spider

Ten minutes ago...sitting at my desk, laptop in front of me as I transcribe an interview from last week. I'm staring at the screen--not looking down, up, left, or right, but staring straight at the screen, watching the words as they appear, when out of freaking nowhere this brown spider is suddenly on my screen.

Naturally, I hit the ceiling. It's my innate reaction to any unexpected bug, be it bee, ant, spider, or gnat.

The question in my mind was, Where the hell did this thing come from?" It's not like I watched it crawl across the screen. It was just BOOM!, there. Obviously, it is some mutant spider with superpowers, sent here to torture me by the ghost of the Daddy Longlegs I knocked off last week in our bathroom.

The spider is small, only about 1 inch long, and is sitting in the middle of my screen, reading about Norwegian Elkhounds. I look around. Never a hard soled shoe in sight when you need one. I race downstairs for a paper towel (its body looked thick and gushy so no way was I willing to use a tissue or toilet paper)and run back up, sure the spider will have hidden itself.

But no, it's still there. Maybe my article on Elkhounds is really good.

I don't want to squash it on my screen so I flutter the paper towel at it. The spider races (fast!) down the screen and holes up in one of the little side port holes where stuff plugs into my computer.

I inwardly moan. No way I'm sticking a finger in there to chase him out. Instead, I pick up the laptop and shake it like an Etch-A-Sketch. The spider drops to the desk, crouched, wary. I reach for it with the paper towel and it takes off.

BAM! I just miss it as it runs past the calculator. WHAM! I send pencils flying but see the spider, alive and well, racing for the desk corner. Noooooo! If it reaches the carpet I'll never get it.

The spider makes a crucial error and stops running and tries to hide. Under a log home magazine. Ha ha! I slam my fist on top of the magazine, then slowly peel it back to look.

He's mangled, but not squished enough to suit me. The last thing I need is a ticked off limping spider coming after me. So I pick up the magazine and slam it down again.

And send the spider's body flying God knows where.

That's right. I can't find it. There are only so many places it could be. I've searched the desk, floor, printer, and my hair. Nothing. So now, even though I KNOW I killed him, I keep feeling something crawling on my skin and I'm jerking and starting every few seconds, brushing imaginary spiders off me.

I just hope I killed the spider before it got a good look at me. I shudder to think about what it may send after me for its revenge.