beach day {life}

We took a beach day last week. I had a migraine, but the humidity was mercifully low so I bundled Cal and a pal of his (and their boogie boards) into the car and we headed out. It was perfect beach weather. If we'd waited a day the red flags would be flying for rip currents, and as it was the temperatures were perfect and the waves just lovely for boogie boarding.

Apparently the cure for migraines is the sun and sand and salt coupled with a light breeze. Low humidity doesn't hurt. While the boys careened from board to ball to ball (paddle and soccer), I sunk my chair and toes in the sand and dug deep into a book I'd just popped onto my Kindle. Bittersweet was just the kind of beach-read that I was looking for. Set at a wealthy family's compound over a summer on Lake Champlain, I'm not even sure that it was all that well-written, but I did exactly what one reviewer did, which was read it every chance I got until it was finished.

It was a fascinating story, and I won't give anything away by saying that despite this family's wealth, the primitive nature of their sprawling summer compound makes it hard to sense if this novel takes place in 2014 or 1954. I kind of like that. Dogs abound. Floorboards creek. Afternoons are spent beachside, reading (well, attempting to) Paradise Lost on the rocks beside the lake.

I felt a yearning when I read it, I have to admit. It all sounded so ... nice. The beach. The sun-heated rocks. The quiet slap of water against the shore as the sun goes down each evening. Not for the wealth, necessarily, and certainly not the dark secrets. (There are always dark secrets, aren't there?) I know I don't need the All White Party that's this family's tradition every 5th of July (Good grief, people.). But I yearned for those traditions that make summer, or any season, really, special. And it got me thinking, what traditions do we have? We don't do All White Parties, but we do have our summer routines. Watering the plants each morning. A pack of Twizzlers in our beach bag. The long slow walk across hot sand. A walk to the river on muggy nights. Milkshakes or homemade ice cream for dessert.

And if I want more? A glass of wine in the evenings before dinner. Some chilled grapes or cheese after work. All that takes is some more attention. A flick of the wrist, really. A willingness to take the time. And new routines are born. All White Party? Pffft. Give me a few moments in the evening light of my living room, and give it to me every night so I know I can count on it. Let me come downstairs freshly showered after a day at the beach, feeling cool and comfortable after my skin has been pulled taut by sun and sand. Let me talk with Neel about his day and answer Cal's impatient question, "How long until dinner?" This is the stuff dreams are made of.

check up

Well, the honest truth is that I haven't been feeling well lately. I never got my groove back after our trip, and to be completely truthful, this started before we even left. It's the migraines, of course, which have reared their ugly heads. I cycle in and out of that, and if you've known me for any length of time, you know summers can be hard on this head of mine. But there's more this time. Fatigue that's hard to shake. Crazy fatigue. Hard to get out the door fatigue. Hard to do much more than one thing a day fatigue. Some days I pick laundry. One load. Some days I pick the grocery store. Some days I pick nothing. Those aren't great days. Add to that some an unusual pain in my hip and some muscle fatigue (gah, more fatigue). I feel like every day I'm navigating a pain and lethargy cycle. It's annoying and confusing and things feel like they're falling apart a little bit around here.

I told the doctor that I'v diagnosed myself with Chronic Irritability Syndrome. He's on it. Five vials of blood, and we'll get to the bottom of it, I'm sure. Actually, I can tell you just what the blood work will reveal: nothing. I'm actually quite healthy! I'll just start feeling better. Until then? Chronic Irritability Syndrome.

And yet everywhere I look around me, there's abundance. My family? Well, they take care of me every day. No complaints. Just concern. Our neighbor Autumn brought us squash and cucumber and Swiss chard from her garden. And from his garden, our contractor John brought us a zucchini the size of a newborn baby. It's my dad's birthday (Happy, happy day, Alfie!) My friend Jackie had a thrilling project come up this session, and she asked me to teach her class on Intro to Digital Photography. It's her favorite class to teach, and it's the first class I took. As you can imagine, I'm excited. But I'm touched and honored too. Beyond it really.

So when I take the long view, things are good. There's abundance all around me. All that other stuff will take care of itself. Patience, grasshopper. The only way out is through.

Pan Fried Zucchini, thanks to John, our contractor

1 zucchini
2 eggs beaten
1 package seasoned fish fry breading, like Hilltop or McCormick's or make your own.
Salt and Pepper
Oil for frying

Slice the zucchini into rounds (or if it's ginormous, half-rounds). Dredge each slice in the egg wash and then the batter and set on a platter, careful not to stack the slices.

Once you've dredged all the zucchini, pour enough oil into the bottom of a fry pan to coat the bottom, and heat on medium high.

Once the oil is sizzling, add the slices of zucchini, careful not to crowd them. You'll probably have to do this in batches.

When the zucchini is brown on one side flip each slice and brown the other side. (The zucchini should be easy to lift from the pan when it's time to flip.) Repeat with the remaining zucchini, draining on paper towels.

Serve with salt and pepper (and hot sauce if your name is Cal.).