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We got smacked upside the head by Father Time last weekend.  He sent us a little reminder that though time may pass, nothing is truly ever gone.

(He also asked us to kindly stop kidding ourselves and throw away the UnderAmour Underwear.  But that has nothing to do with this story.)

Last weekend, My Captain and I refurbished a decades-old picnic table and bench set that had been at my father’s cottage at the beach since before I was a child.  It was a table that had been stained and painted brick-red for as long as I can remember.  Battle-scarred and softened by years and years of sandy, wet, sea-salt covered butts, it was a well-used piece of furniture long-neglected and un-appreciated.  Every dinner we ever ate as a family at the beach was at this table.  We’ve all got a soft spot in our hearts for this humble, beat-up piece of wood.

But we made an amazing discovery when we started sanding it, in preparation for a new coat of paint.  It was actually made of Redwood!  And it was beautiful Redwood, at that!  All these years, hiding out under paint and stain, the ugly old picnic table was really a thing of tremendous worth and beauty!

So we switched gears and decided to sand it further, and then put a coat of clear weather protectant on it.

And in the process of all of that, we made another, no less astounding discovery.

Affixed to the bottom of one of the benches clung a piece of chewing gum, decades old, and so hardened and fossilized we had to chip away at it with My Captain’s commando Knife.

I searched my memory long and hard.  I was never much of a gum chewer, and I was certainly never one to do such a dastardly crime.   It was too fossilized to have been any of the grandchildren.  No, this crime had been perpetrated by one of my siblings or their friends.

We’re sending it to the crime lab to have it carbon dated and tested.  The truth will come out!  Dad will be vindicated, mark my words!!!

( I really hope it wasn’t me…..)

We had the evening to ourselves.  The entirety of the blazing hot day had been spent on the hellacious, shade-less, heat-sink of a wooden deck at Pop-Pop’s Cottage sanding and re-finishing furniture.  We deserved a quiet, romantic dinner by the Sea.

It was nearing dusk, the colors of the sky blended seamlessly with those of the sea.  Quiet violin music wafted through the air, and the tantalizing smell of fresh-grilled fish tempted us.  Our waitress assured us that we had the best seat of the outer porch, the best view of the end-of-season, tourist-less, beach and sea.  She invited us to linger and enjoy the evening.

I wanted to remember this moment, and begged my beloved to borrow his phone so I could snap a picture of him.  I wanted to capture this.  So often in our harried life we are pulled away from each other, our focuses become fractured and blurry.  I yearned for more of this quiet, this undistracted peace.

With God’s palate behind him, I snapped the first photo.

Hmmm.  That isn’t much of a smile, Love.  Really.  This is for posterity.  Can you try a little harder? Please?

Ummm.  That doesn’t look sincere.  It’s a little too posed, and seriously doesn’t even look like you.  Let me try again.

HEY!  The menu isn’t going anywhere.  Dammit!  Look at me!  I want to remember this peaceful moment, you Boob!

Er….clearly you don’t see ‘Boob‘ as a term of affection…ahem….

Look, let me give you an idea of what I’m shooting for in this picture.  Here, you take the phone and snap one of me.  I’ll show you how it’s supposed to look.  Be natural.  Make love to the camera, but employ subtlety.  Like this:

See?

Now give me back the phone so I can take another one of you.

No, seriously, give it back to me.

Honey?

C’mon!  I’m not kidding!

Look, I’m sorry I called you a ‘Boob.’

Honey?

****sigh***

So I was at Varmint’s cheerleading practice on the lawn of Poolesville High School this evening, when Coach Bupp asked me if I could help them for a moment.

Me.

Every glorious, arthritic, flatulent pound of me.

Managing not to laugh out loud, I said, “Sure.”

They wanted me to stand in front of some of the cheerleaders as the practiced their stunts.  The stunt where the smallest girl stands on the not-as-small-but-still-pretty-puny-to-my-way-of-thinking girls, and does a bunch of organized flailing before falling into another cheerleader’s arms.

They wanted me there in case the girl on top fell forward accidentally.  Apparently my job was to break her fall.

So I’m going to add that to my resume now.

“Human Cushion”

I suppose I’ve been called worse.

The things I do for my kids……..

I was so tired tonight.  I had just finished a late-night grocery shopping trip, and then went to fill my gas tank up at the station across the street.

But because God has a sense of humor, he made sure that all the pumps on the side of my car’s gas tank were taken.  Like I said, I was tired.  So instead of waiting for one to open, I pulled forward and began to back up to an open pump.

On my first attempt, the Equinox’s back-up camera began loudly beeping “AH! No!  Danger! Danger!” so I stopped. Berated myself.  Pulled Forward.  Tried again.  I got the warning beeping again.

This quick gas stop was turning into effort, damn it.

Of course, by now other pumps on my side were open, but by golly I was on a mission and I was not going to drive to some other pump.  I was not giving up.

Angling my car again, this time with the precision of a German Auto Industry Robot, I slowly…ever…so….slowly…crept back to the perfect spot.  I had aligned my gas tank exactly across from the pump handle.  The curb was exactly 12 inches away from the pump.  I had finally arrived.

And the angels sang!

….But I couldn’t get out of my car.

There were two other cars, with two male drivers out pumping their gas, who had been watching the whole show.  And I could see them snickering.  They were so holier than thou with their parking superiority.  I felt so ashamed…..How could I show my face?

Well, I couldn’t.  I was so tired, I just waited for them to finish and move on.  I even pretended I was doing something of extreme importance with my purse, all the while watching them through the corner of my eye.

Eventually they left and I was alone at the gas station.  And as I leaned against my car, pumping my own tank full of liquid gold, another car pulled up.  It was a young lady who pulled in a little too far from the pump.   She had to stretch the hose and nozzle pretty far and it barely reached her car.

Embarrassed, she looked apologetically at me.  I gave her a reassuring wink and a nod.

We, the spatially challenged, have to stick together, after all.

I’ve always been teased about my bladder.  It’s about the size of a walnut, based on the frequency and outflow of my tinkle trips.

“WHY!?” You cry.  “WHY, for the Love of All that is Good and Holy do you feel the need to share this with us?”

Well, other than the fact that I believe in absolute transparency in any friendship, and you are no exception, I’ve got a funny story related to peeps.

Well, it’s not that funny.  But it could be, if you are slightly skewed the way I am.

And by slightly, I mean entirely.

Our dear friend, firefighter, and fellow paramedic, Cupcake, joined us for breakfast one morning this week at a local restaurant called The Star Diner.  It’s an unobtrusive little place I’ve been going to since my babies were growing in my belly.  You could even say the diner’s Greek Salads, for I craved them often and in great volume when I was pregnant, were the building blocks that make up Varmint and Critter.  I’m surprised my babies didn’t come out smelling like Feta Cheese.  Though, in all honesty, they may have, but I was too busy to notice during the miraculous, but highly disgusting birthing process.

What the HECK was I talking about?

Right. Cupcake and Peeps.

So we’re having breakfast, and in the course of that meal, Cupcake downs not one, not two, not three, not four, but 5 large glasses of iced tea….and get this….without peeing! Not even once!

I watched in amazement as he drank the fifth one.  Never in my life have I had that kind of bladder volume (or control!).  It’s like he’s a fluid holding Machine.   Filled with incredulity and no small amount of awe, I watched as he casually poured more liquid into his body.  I have to believe that ginormous bladder has served him well on more than one fire call.

Or Bar Hop.

We don’t know what made him hesitate to go relieve himself during the meal.  Some people believe in a phenomenon called ‘Breaking the Seal,’ where if you pee once, you end up peeing over and over and over again in a short amount of time.  I don’t believe it’s been medically proven, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Johns Hopkins Research picks it up.

I often ask my kids and their friends if they could have one super power, what would it be? I don’t need to ask Cupcake; he’s already got an honest to goodness superpower.  We could call him The Human Keg.  The Pee-in-ator.  Bolus Boy.

But he’s already known as ‘Cupcake’. 

And that’s another story altogether.