How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Before I get into how I spent my summer vacation I should give a brief update on what happened between now and either (A) Christmas since that was what my last post was about, or (B) March since that was when I did my last post.

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And now I'm convinced my brain has completely turned to Jell-O since I can't remember a blessed thing that happened during that timeframe. I'm sure there were Pretzel M&Ms involved but I can't be sure of anything else beyond that. The best I can do is recap the highlights of the past couple of months. Here we go:

This summer was different from previous summers because this was the first time I carved out an official summer vacation for the kids. This is unusual for us because we live in Florida where it's hot and humid and gross so we might as well sit inside in the AC and get some school done. Speaking of AC...

We kicked off our summer with a funeral for our ancient unit. We were kind of like the family of a 110 year old woman who dies in her sleep and says, "What? We didn't see that coming!" Okay, we kind of saw it coming but that didn't make the bill hurt any less. Fortunately, PB is teaching some extra courses which will take the edge off. I've also become a bit of a power bill weirdo because I can't wait for our bill to come each month so I can do a happy dance about how much lower it is than last year.

As I said, we don't typically have an official summer vacation. Maybe a week off here and there for VBS and whatnot, but overall we stick to the plan. And you know how I love me a good plan. But God had a different plan for us and back in May I began to sense that we needed to take a couple of months off. In fact, if I could have forseen this summer back in May, I would've said in my best Roy Scheider voice, "We're going to need a bigger break."

Jumpin'.

It started out well and good. Lots of swimming, trips to the library, bowling and no drama. We wrapped up June with vacation bible school and I was looking forward to more relaxation mixed in with a little lesson planning during the month of July. What I should have said was, "Hello, July. Why don't I just go ahead and bend over right now so you can kick my fanny?"

Let's begin with July 1st when the dog stopped eating. And the 2nd when she still wasn't eating. And the third... you get where I'm going, right? By the 4th we knew Zoe was waning but the vet wasn't open on the holiday so we spent Independence Day rubbing her ears and keeping her comfortable. We took her to the vet on the 5th which just so happened to be the day the Casey Anthony verdict was announced. So there PB and I are in the van with Zoe on our way to have her put down listening to the verdict on the radio. What an odd, odd little moment that was. Adding to the crazy was the fact that all the vet techs were gathered around the radio opining on the verdict while I was trying to get us signed in. I was feeling a little ignored and that they weren't being very sensitive to the fact that we were about to have our beloved pet euthanized and was going to tell them just that in a very indignant tone of voice.

Instead what came out were a bunch of unintelligible sobs.

Which was also pretty effective.

I thought I was prepared to lose Zoe since we had pretty much done it once before, but I was utterly brokenhearted. It's okay if you don't have a pet and think it's weird to mourn the death of an animal. To others she might have been just a dog, but for our family she was a comforting presence and a beautiful picture of unconditional love. She was often a source of laughter for our family and reminded us that sometimes what you need most in life is a good nap. And we loved her.

So I mourned a lot.

And July marched on.

I chaperoned our high school students at Young Life Camp in Daytona Beach for a week.

This guy was our teacher.

And this guy led worship. Twice a day. All week. He wasn't bad. You might hear him on the radio one day.

So I learned some things at camp. I was reminded of the greatness of God and that it is an awesome thing to see teenagers' passion stirred for Him. I was hit squarely between the eyes with the sinister, smarmy, insidious garbage our students are up against and with a greater burden to point them to the Light. Also, I learned that high school students are astute and compassionate and hilarious.

And I learned that I am quite old.

And that I need sleep.

And since I am old and need sleep and didn't get any sleep, I spent the week after camp quite sick.

Speaking of sick...

Have I mentioned that my sister, Ma Bell, has a funky bacteria in her lungs? Ever the overachiever, it's a nasty strain that has made pulmonary, bacterial and infectious disease specialists stand up and take notice.

Really, she's quite a case and we're very proud.

So after Zoe died, and I spent some time atop the mountain at camp and on my couch with a cold (squeezing in lesson planning for good measure), I went to Charleston for a week to sit in the hospital beside my sister as she began her very intensive treatment. It was a rough week but because this is Ma Bell we're talking about we laughed a lot and sensed God's presence with us the entire week. She still has a very long road ahead of her and the treatment stinks (PIC Line is now a cuss word in our house) so prayers on her behalf are much appreciated.

That should cover the bullet points of my summer vacation. We did manage to squeeze in our first sleepovers and a bout of food poisoning thrown in for good measure. To be clear, those were two separate events.

As I close the book on summer, I can't help but be thankful that the One who saw this crazy summer coming prepared the way for me long before and sustained me throughout. Fall's a-coming and I've got a few plans but I know He's got some too and His are always better.

Prayerfully, His don't include the puppy Obi Wanda's been asking for.

The Near Death Experience That Really Wasn't

About 6 months ago I took our dog to the vet for her annual checkup and shots. The vet informed me at that visit that Zoe was probably not long for this world. Because she's a rescue we're a little iffy on her exact age, but I'm pretty sure she's somewhere between 12 and 13 years old.

One Saturday morning in December I thought for sure she was checking out for good.

It was traumatic to say the least.

PB and I woke up around 5:30 to the sound of Zoe scrambling to get up, taking a few steps and falling down again. She did this a number of times so PB helped her to the backyard thinking she just needed to go to the bathroom and was having a hard time walking on our wood floors. When they both returned to our bedroom several minutes later PB told me that Zoe had fallen a couple of times while she was outside.

I was concerned but not terribly alarmed until Zoe started burrowing between PB's side of the bed and his end table. It was odd at first but then she started trembling and eventually couldn't stand up at all.

Pathetic right? Neither PB nor I wanted to verbalize what we thought was happening so I mentioned that I would call the vet when they opened in a couple of hours. At which point PB said, "You know if we take her in she's probably not coming hooooooome."

And that's when the floodgates opened.

Under the glow of candlelight.

The light had burned out on our ceiling fan the night before but PB didn't bother changing it because he would have plenty of time to deal with that in the morning, you know, not knowing we would be holding a deathbed vigil for the dog and all.

So we lit a candle.

I sobbed as I rubbed Zoe's ears. I told her she had been a wonderful dog. I prayed over her that God would make her passing peaceful for her.

Y'all I gave that dog permission to die.

It was just like the Melanie's deathbed scene in "Gone With the Wind".

And that's when the kids wandered in.

Now keep in mind this is the only dog PB has ever owned so he ran into some difficulty explaining to the children what was happening to Zoe. So I took over and explained that Zoe was really sick and it was the kind of sick the vet probably wouldn't be able to fix so it was likely the vet would be "putting her to sleep" and Zoe wouldn't be coming home from the vet.

There. That's a clear and gentle explanation of the matter, right?

"And then she'll wake up in a few days?" asked Doc.

Shoot.

"Um, no honey. Then she'll be dead," I said. I hastened to add that this was the kindest thing we could do for Zoe and that we NEVER DO THAT TO PEOPLE, just in case any of us would be making a trip to the hospital any time soon.

Doc looked pretty sad until Obi Wanda asked if we could get a puppy.

We called my dad who came over to stay with the kids while PB and I took Zoe on her final ride in the van. The children kissed Zoe and told her goodbye, we loaded her onto her dog bed and carried her to the van....

...where she promptly stood up and smiled at us.

Are you kidding me?

We continued the drive of doom thinking this was just a final burst of life and were still convinced this was it. In fact, we still had to carry her from the van into the office where everyone gave us that sympathetic "we know your dog's about to die" look.

The vet took her to the back to examine her and returned with a big smile on her face, "It's only a slipped disc. We'll just give her a cortisone shot and some drugs and she'll be fine."

I'd like to say I jumped with joy but that would be a big, fat lie. PB and I just sat there in silence because we had both been hit with the same truth: eventually, we would have to go through this all over AGAIN. Only next time the kids probably won't believe us because we had told them Zoe wasn't coming home so we'll have to work even harder and say that, no really, she's gonna die this time.

I felt like I had been hit by a truck.

And one day I get to do it all over again!

Bootie Shopping

I should be putting together my grocery list, but I can't. I need to make sure we have essentials like milk and eggs and brownie mix (BOGO this week!). But I can't.

Not until I get something off my chest.

Dog booties.

Specifically, non-slip dog booties.

Zoe is our 12 year old mix-breed something or other. In her old age she's become a gassy, grumpy old lady who demands dinner at 4:30, kind of like she lives at the Ponderosa or something. But we love her and I'm going to feel terrible when she heads on to the great by and by, which we're thinking might be sooner rather than later.

And as much as we love our new floors (and we do - we really, really do), they are the bane of Zoe's existence. Poor thing slips and slides and wipes out on them on a regular basis.

It's just pitiful.

And noisy.

Especially when we're trying to watch Amazing Race (go cowboys!).

But, really, it's all about her.

Which brings me to non-slip dog booties. We're thinking about buying her some so I did a preliminary search online.

Oh dear.

There's a surprising number to choose from in all sorts of varieties. You can even buy outfits to match the booties if you are so inclined.

I am not inclined.

I haven't bitten the bullet yet because I'm concerned these booties could be a gateway product and the next thing you know Zoe and the kids will have matching sequin outfits and I'm carrying my 60 pound dog around under my arm like I'm Paris Hilton.

Two things that made me laugh out loud while shopping:

First, those dog models are some hacked off looking dogs.

Second, one store sells the booties 2 per box.

Think about that.