Adventures in Rainland

Anyone who lives on the East Coast of the United States knows how wet and soggy this summer has been. Mosquitoes are flourishing while crops are dying and people are getting grumpy (you know, light sadness/depression/whatever-it's-called-that-I'm-sure-is-making-me-miserable).

So, then vacation came along.

YAY! Sunny Florida.

However, the rain followed us in our big Ford F-150. It rained in North Carolina on the way down, South Carolina, and even Georgia where we stopped for the night. Luckily, the wind swept away the clouds and we were able to enjoy the natural beaches undisturbed by development . . . just the way I like it!

My husband and I, along with our kids, found crabs scuttling along the packed sand, marveled at the trees standing on the beach even though their roots were above ground, and genuinely enjoyed the fact that the sun was shining. 

On Saturday morning, we loaded the kids up again and ventured the remaining way to Florida (which isn't far from Georgia, but given how far in the state we had to go . . . .)

And guess what?

You ever see Snoopy carrying an umbrella with the raincloud following him around? Yep, that seemed to be our story. Rained on us the whole way, which must have been why my daughters had to pee like every five minutes on Saturday.

But, again, we endured and arrived at Longboat Key, Florida to sunshine, blue skies, and the smell of ocean. Also: too early in the day to check into our condo.

We drove over to St. Armand's Key, which is a great shopping/eating island, and found an awesome little restaurant called The Crab and Fin. So, we sat—and ate. Our server informed us that we were in for a week of good weather. The sun was supposed to shine every day, the beach conditions were supposed to improve—all would be well.

Boy was he wrong!

Shortly after checking in and dumping off our truckload of crap (seriously, who needs ALL that stuff?), we drove to Publix to purchase our groceries and it RAINED.

I can't remember what we did on Sunday, but I think it involved beach-hopping and avoiding rain.

*Edit: Yes, I do remember what we did on Sunday. After all that beach hopping, I met with my Agent Marisa Cleveland and one of my favorite authors Jamie Ayres. Gah! We did so much on vacation that my brain can't process it all!*

Monday it rained ALL DAY, non-stop, heavy, soaking rain! Although the beach was out of the question, we piled in our cars (my brother and his family came to Florida, too) and drove to Tampa to visit the zoo. There is no better time to visit a zoo than when it's raining. Here are my reasons why:

1. Crowds are down

2. Animal poo does not smell nearly as bad

3. Do you REALLY need a third reason?

The day was awesome! Seriously. We even found this "little" guy hopping around. *Note: Not a zoo exhibit*

Tuesday the sun peeked through the clouds and we found an awesome little place to hang out at the North Shore of the island. We collected shells and saw sting-rays and then visited with my sister who drove up from another Florida island, and then we got rained on. Of course. We did see dolphins while having lunch on a dry dock!

Wednesday we visited the Mote Aquarium and took their Sea Life boat cruise (awesome, by the way). What happened? It RAINED. We were soaked. Abby freaked out, thought lightning was going to strike us (I worried about this too). But, when the crew cast their net and brought lots of fish and sea creatures for my kids to HOLD and TOUCH, they couldn't care less about the rain after that. If you ever visit the area, make sure you stop by this aquarium and take one of their cruises.

Thursday was another rainy day. When a surprise storm chased us off the beach, we waited in the car, had dinner in our folding chairs in a parking lot (when the rain stopped briefly), then waited in the car some more, then rushed out to the beach at the last minute and caught an amazing fireworks display. Honestly, the best finale I've ever seen.

Friday the day started out beautifully, so my hubby, brother, and all the boys went out on a fishing trip while the girls and I all stayed pool/beachside. The guys didn't catch a thing—correction: my hubby caught ONE fish. The girls and I had a relaxing day. Then it rained. A lot. We sat outside on the balcony to watch the sheets of water blow across the waves, and then a lightning bolt hit the ocean about 200 yards out from us.

Scary!

The afternoon cleared up, and so did the ocean. We were FINALLY able to enjoy the Gulf Coast the way it should be enjoyed: wading in shallow, clear waters. Amazing.

A soggy dinner out (yep, rainy dinner), and that was the end of our beach vacation.

I celebrated my 28^th birthday (5 times over) on the road with my family. We stopped in Charlotte, NC to visit the NASCAR Hall of Fame (check out the rain clouds in the picture), and ducked into a restaurant about 20 miles from home to avoid . . . you guessed it: RAIN!

Effing East Coast weather pattern.

Anyway, I apologize for not posting more often or visiting with everyone on Twitter and Facebook, but every now and then I have to take a step back and appreciate what's important: Life Off the Computer.

Love you all!

<3 Krystal

Don't forget to download Wilde's Fire for FREE while you still can. And Wilde's Army is just 99 cents this week.

Read More

Don't Worry. Be Happy.

I returned to my desk, ready to grab my stuff and run out the door, and found four missed calls from home.

Ethan. What could be so important he needed to call four times?

I tapped the screen, picked up my purse, then headed for the door.

"Hello."

"What's up, buddy?"

"Oh, Arizona peed in his crate. I think he's sick or something."

Crap. Not a good sign. Maybe the cancer is spreading. Maybe he's mad at us. Maybe Ethan just didn't leave him out long enough this morning because it was raining. All these thoughts ran through my head, a heavy weight pressing my chest. I tend to think the worst, and my kids aren't ready to lose their dog. Not yet. Not so soon after Zoe passed away.

"Well, just put him outside and clean it up."

"I can't put him outside. It's raining."

"Leave him in the dog room so he doesn't get the house soaked and dirty. I'll clean him up when I get home." I sighed. "Thank you, buddy."

***

I walked into the house, on the verge of tears. Maybe I'm not ready for Arizona to die. Maybe I'm not capable of hearing the vet say his cancer is worse. "How's Zona?"

Ethan paled. "I'll go check on him."

My husband was cooking dinner, busying himself with things. Arizona is his dog, his baby, and seeing him sick this soon after the extensive surgeries over the summer . . . .

"I'm going to change." I darted up the stairs, stripped off my clothes, put on some comfy-domfies—as the girls and I like to call them—then made my way back to the family room.

Ethan returned from the basement. "He peed again."

My husband turned around, the fear of what this indicated clearly written in his expression, eyes wide and intense, mouth slightly open. "Are you sure it's pee? It is raining a lot. Or maybe he dumped his water. Did he dump his water?"

"I'll go check." I made my way to the basement and cleaned up the urine. The dog and I had a conversation. He looked kind of nervous as he paced around the room, head down, claws clicking on the cold concrete. "Don't be sick. Okay?"

***

Ethan sat on the couch, reading a book about different dog breeds. Every few minutes, he'd point to a picture of one and say something about how that could make a great next dog. He already assumes Arizona is going to die.

Our beautiful husky, still missing fur on his back from the tumor removal in July, paced about the room. Something he usually does, but not as long. Most days he'll just walk around the kitchen table, through the family room, in front of the smaller sofa, spin in a couple circles, then curl into a ball on the carpet. Last night, he paced through the entire kitchen, through the family room, around the table, in front of the sofas, through the kitchen again . . . he never stopped.

"Do you need to go outside?" I asked.

His ears perked, and he headed toward the gate. Ethan got up and let him out, then a few minutes later back in—still raining.

The pacing didn't stop. We made a routine of this—pacing, go outside; pacing, go outside—until we thought we were too stressed and so was he.

"Why don't you put him in his crate?" my husband asked of Ethan.

Five minutes later, Ethan stormed upstairs, his eyes narrowed, his fists clenched. "I can't get him to go in his crate. He bit me."

"He bit you?" My husband jumped to his feet. "Where?"

"Well, not hard, but he snapped at me."

Exaggeration is not acceptable right now, thank you.

TJ returned upstairs with the dog. Apparently neither of them could get him in his crate. Which is odd, because that dog loves his crate. Loves it.

The pacing continued, as did the potty breaks, until I decided to get up and attempt to get him in his crate—after many failed attempts to get him to lie down . . . and stay.

"Ethan," I called up the stairs, "grab some treats!"

I pulled at Zona's collar, pushed his behind, tried picking him up, but he fought me. Ethan arrived with the treats, and together we convinced the dog to get inside. Arizona slept down there all night long, no whining, no more accidents—thank God—and this morning, he was seemingly happy.

Maybe he had gas? Maybe a UTI?

I'm not sure. But on my way to work, while thinking about how much his vet appointment is going to cost—and whether this is a signal that our time with him is nearly up—a song that I don't normally hear on Pandora came on. Actually, it's a song that shouldn't come on my station because I don't have much else like it on there: Don't Worry, Be Happy.

I turned up the volume and laughed, then sang along. You may not believe in God, and maybe you don't believe in fate either, but the timing of this song was perfect, like a divine intervention. Rather than worry about the bills and the cancer and the accidents, I just need to do what needs to be done and be happy.

He's a good dog. He's had a good life. And he's still here.

We need to enjoy him.

Read More