Day 3 - Hot, hot, hot, ... HOT. (Pt. 1)

Wednesday, August 17th

OK, let's get something straight: It was much hotter this year than in previous years. Three of the seven days we were there boasted heat warnings from the weatherman on the radio. It was the kind of hot that makes you want to just crawl into the refrigerator naked. It was that kind of hot. And on this day, I was really getting irritated by it.

During the night, Wesley's blood sugar dropped. He didn't get dramatic this year. (I'm remembering the Edisto trip during which I found him trying to find the bathroom... in the chest-of-drawers in Woodrow's room...) I just got up, gave him orange juice, and went back to bed. I would never have known there was something going on if I hadn't gotten up and noticed that Wesley's toes were wiggling.

So ... I got up just before 8:00, and noticed that Wesley's toes were wiggling again. I gave him some more orange juice and started a pot of coffee. By the time he came around, the coffee was ready, and we had cream cheese danish for breakfast.

I discovered another major difference between me and Wesley on this trip. (How can I be finding new stuff after more than 18 years? I don't know. Maybe I'm just not very observant.) For me, "vacation" means someone else does all the housework and cooking. For Wesley, it means humongous breakfasts. I don't cook breakfast. I just don't. It's too early to be making a mess like that. I like easy breakfasts. Bagels. Danish. Muffins. Toast is preferable. So every night, we had to compromise on what the next day's breakfast would be, and I picked "danish" for this day and bought them at the Piggly Wiggly the night before.

After breakfast, I repaired to the porch for some serious radio listening. With me, I took the pictures from Club Scrap Retreat, over which I pored. I pointed out all my new friends and acquaintances to the kids and Wesley. I looked at those pictures a *lot*. I wanted very badly to go back to Wisconsin, which is considerably cooler and less humid than a South Carolina barrier island in August.

Wesley fixed the radio antennae (by taping it to the wall), and the kids hopped on their bikes and rode away. I was feeling less than spiffy, maybe due to the bland crabcakes of the night before, and just kind of wanted to lie around like a lazy lout. I watched the marsh. It didn't do anything. It was too hot to move. The kids came home fighting, and Wesley suggested the beach. Emily didn't feel like going, so the boys headed off around 11:00.

The moment they were gone, I called Amy and told her the house's phone number. I feel like a heel, but I had forgotten for a whole day and a half that the house *had* a phone. All I could think up until that time was, "My cell phone doesn't have a signal." Amy and I talked a bit, and then Emily and I headed out to go shopping.

As we walked into the Edisto Bookstore, my slight unwellness caught up with me. I asked the clerk where the nearest public restroom was, and she directed me a half-mile back toward the beach. Gee, thanks. Em and I went back to the car (which was already about 98 degrees after sitting in the sun for twenty seconds) and drove to the nearest public restroom. Which was in a shop. Which Emily shopped in while I hung out in the ladies' room, kind of hoping that I had food poisoning so I could sue the Sunset Grille and change the name of it.

I'm sorta mean when I don't feel well, ain't I?

Emily noted that the prices at this store were outrageously out of synch with the rest of the world, and I swear I hugged her. We left after buying a pack of gum and went back to the bookstore.

That's when I discovered that they had an Internet cafe. I bought a used copy of "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe" for the kids and then used the computer for 15 minutes, which cost $1.50. The computer, not the book. I forget how much the book was. That entire 15 minutes flew by while I read one letter from Tricia and replied, and then checked my blog, which was when I *first* encountered the entire concept of "comment spam." I still hate comment spam. It took me 13 minutes to try to figure out how to sign in to Blogger from a strange computer. I couldn't remember my password. Heck, I couldn't even remember my user name at first. I finally deleted the comment spam, and that's when my time was up. Sigh.

I paid and headed for the antique store next door only to discover that it was closed for lunch. So Emily and I went back to the car, which was now approximately 183 degrees. I couldn't breathe for a few minutes; I was drowning in the humidity. But in general, I was having as good a time as could be expected, given my health and the heat. Emily was *marvelous* company for the outing. She has good taste in music and doesn't mind when I turn up the radio to sing along with something good.

Back at the Pink Flamingo, the boys were back from the beach, and furthermore, they had already eaten leftovers for lunch. (Biscuits and maters.... are these boys Southern or what?) I was a bit miffed, but I decided not to throw a hissy fit. Emily and I headed out to find lunch, and although I think I initially said I would take her to the Piggly Wiggly for something, I stopped instead at the Ruby Seahorse.

The Ruby Seahorse... ahhhhh, the Ruby Seahorse. This is another Edisto eatery at which I'd never dined. It's a hamburger shack. I'm sure you've seen them if you don't have one in your town. Open seasonally, with a take-out window, and the best burgers in town. It never fails. The worst looking "restaurant" is going to be the best one you find, and the Ruby Seahorse was no exception.

I knew it was going to be good when I walked into the screened porch and found only five local teenagers at lunch there, and a pair of construction workers off to one side. And oooooo, I was right. I got the barbecue sandwich platter to go for me, and Emily got grilled cheese and fries. The wait was about 12 minutes, and I watched the teenagers going through the age-old non-mating rituals. There were two gorgeous teenaged girls working at the Seahorse, and the table held four boys and one girl. One of those good-lookin' teens was gonna be disappointed at the end of summer, but none of them were thinking of that on this day. The construction guys were too busy eating to chat or notice anything.

Pretty Girl at Table: Get me some more fries.

Handsome Boy: Get 'em yourself.

Handsome Boy #2: Hey, Waitress!

Waitress: Yeah, what'd'y'all want now?

Pretty Girl: More fries?

Waitress: Mm'kay, just a minute...

Handsome Boy #2: C'n I have 'nother Coke, please?

Waitress: Oh, lord. Yeah. Hold on.

Handsome Boy #1: Git me one while yer at it!

Waitress: Y'all are more trouble.

Handsome Boy #1: But you love us anyway.

Pretty Girl: No, she loves the tips. Boy, leave her a bigger tip!

Handsome Boy #3 (reading sports page): I'm not in here.

Handsome Boy #4: Are you done with that yet?

Pretty Girl: Move the paper 'fore the fries land on it!

Waitress #2: Lord! Look at this mess!

Handsome Boy #2: I'll clean it up for ya, don't worry.

All Three Girls: You're so sweeeeeeeeet.

Other Three Boys: [groaning and gnashing teeth]

Dinner and a show -- does it get any better? $11.40, tip and all.

When I got my food and paid, I left a tip in the tip jar (which was a milk bottle on top of the half door to the kitchen, and I have no idea how it stayed there when those pretty waitresses hipped it open and slammed it closed with their heels), and then skipped out to the car -- which I had left *on* with the air conditioner running, because I had learned my lesson, thank you very much, and it wasn't 189 degrees inside that time.

And at home, my food smelled so good that Wesley came over to the table and sat there looking like a puppy dog until I shared with him. It *was* good. I ate almost two-thirds of the sandwich before I had to quit. The fries were even better. The slaw was... bland. Emily ate her entire sandwich and let Woodrow have her leftover fries.

I guess we just found a new favorite nearby restaurant, huh?