Write now

It's write now or not at all, because tomorrow I'll be on the road, then falling into bed, then working, then unpacking, writing thank yous, etc., and I'll forget everything. I did a good job documenting, I think, until today.

So after Riley's walk, Dad and I had breakfast at a diner, then went to Belmont Park at Mission Beach and rode a roller coaster called the Giant Dipper. It was originally built in 1925, closed and rebuilt in the 70s. Dad rode it with his family in 1962. It was rebuilt in the same design, and sounds just as rickety as a wooden roller coaster should. It was good that we built up to today's adventure, because this thing was a roller coaster. I felt a bit apprehensive as we chugged towards the top, thinking, "So this is how I'm going to die."

This was not a one-big-hill-and-you're-done coaster; this was a kick-your-ass-all-the-way-through coaster. Holy shit. And it rattled the bejeezus out of us- I felt my neck crack. It was so much fun. We looked at other rides and decided to shop for a little while. I found a magnet to remind me of the coaster.

Our next ride is hard to describe. Maybe like a carousel, but instead of a horse, you ride a chair that you can flip upside down. Oh, and it goes a lot faster. I thought we could just opt out of flipping, but we felt comfortable with the ride and agreed to flip. Dad pushed the lever and we rolled forward just slowly enough to almost lose your sunglasses. "Again!" I yelled. "Backwards?" he asked. "Ok!" We continued to flip and laugh until we got stuck upside down, but we still found that pretty funny. We were eventually uprighted and released, and then wandered through another store.

I thought we could do that ride again, and maybe the roller coaster too, but then we met our undoing: the Tilt-A-Whirl. This is also a carousel motion, but with a few large, wave-like lumps. The cars spin as you ride these waves in a circle. How fast do they spin? Go find a bracelet and whip it around on your fingertip as fast as possible. Then vomit. Dad says he thought I was fine because I was still smiling, but I had actually stopped having fun several rotations ago- I was just afraid that moving a muscle would summon breakfast.

"Are you ok?" he called out.

"EEEEEEGGGS!" I yelled.

But hey, that was the plan: greasy eggs and roller coasters to find out if Jenny can still handle either. The results: roller coasters are still good. I can flip. I can spin in a circle. I just can't spin with an up and down motion. That is a barf recipe. I didn't hurl at all, thankfully- one either day- but today I came pretty close. We had to go sit somewhere else afterwards, because I could smell food garbage. Oh my gaarrfddhhhh, let's go sit on the beach. When I was able to move again, we walked to a boardwalk restaurant for some shade, a breeze, and a Diet Coke.

"I think I'm done," I told Dad.

Can I get a standing ovation for a dad who was still willing to potentially be barfed on by his daughter, 35 years after her birth? He asked what I wanted for my birthday, and roller coasters was my answer, so roller coasters he provided. We had a great time, and I managed to not throw up.

This evening I opened presents and sat with my dad, Nik and Rob, and we ate grilled cheeseburgers and salad. We had chocolate cupcakes for dessert (!) and Rob burned me 2 mix CDs from their iTunes collection. Laura came over and we all sat outside talking and sending each other photos. I sat in the nap swing with Nik and watched the clouds, then the moon as as we rocked back and forth with Riley sleeping half on Nik, half on me until it was time to say goodnight.

The puzzle wasn't finished, but Dad suggested I leave it for them. Nik said she'd finish it, then said the last time she'd done a puzzle was with Barbara.

"Barbara liked puzzles? I asked.

The response came with a look from Nik. "OH, yeah."

I'm floored. Dad says, "I forgot all about that." Later, I tell Nik I'm floored by this. "You are all the best parts of Barbara," she says.

What a lovely birthday.

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