I had a good weekend, even though I was violently ill in the middle of it.
It started with retrieving Tigger from camp. Unlike last year, this time there were no mean girls in her cabin. They all got along splendidly, and Tig found some other kids who enjoy manga and anime as much as she does. She even gained a few more fans for the genre by slipping her cabinmates some of the ridiculous number of manga books she crammed into her duffel bag, to read with flashlights. We took Tigger home and commenced the after-camp laundry. But no, that’s not what made me sick.
Saturday evening we went to the annual summer bash held by some friends. Food, wine, old friends, new acquaintances, and zillions of children running underfoot. The weekend was still looking good.
On Sunday we headed down to our friend Single Dad’s boat. The plan: take the boat out on Lake Washington and watch the Blue Angels perform. Beautiful day. Cloudless blue sky and no wind to speak of. The boat was moored in Lake Union, which had a barely a ripple on it. (You can guess where this is going, can’t you?)
Our party of nine chugged across Lake Union and through the ship canal, along with many, many other boaters who apparently had the same plan. When we reached Lake Washington, we found our spot and cut the engine. Although there was no weather to speak of, the zillions of boats in the water made the lake really, really choppy. The boat bounced and pitched and bucked and, if you will excuse the expression, heaved. And pretty soon, if you will excuse the TMI, so did I.
I stumbled down below, where I found Little Bit had just puked in the head. (Head = bathroom. See how nautical I am?) I took my turn, and spent the next hour sitting on the floor next to the head with my head on my knees. I’m told that Tigger was seasick too, but I was unaware of that at the time, because I’d lost the ability to lift my head, or to hear anything other than my own brain fervently wishing I could step onto any surface that wasn’t freaking moving.
During that time, Single Dad reconsidered the plan, fired up the engine, and exited Lake Washington. Fortunately, the Blue Angels performed during the trip back, so the non-sick people on the boat were able to see them.
When we were safely moored on Lake Union again, I dragged myself off the boat and kissed the dock. My kids recovered instantly, but it was hours before I felt normal again. We hung around the rest of the afternoon. The kids swam in the lake. I walked around the dock and tried to convince my brain that nothing else untoward was going to happen.
Eventually I was able to eat and even to sit on the ever-so-gently rocking boat again. But next weekend, I’m staying on dry land.