Posts Tagged With: goofy

~ The Hot Box ~

Yesterday was a whopper of a hot day here at Pop-pop’s beach cottage.  I mean it was a humid, fly-biting, feels-like-the-air-has-already-been-breathed kind of day.   Around 9 O’clock, I checked in on My Captain, (who is in week two of his beach chair shed project that he and his best friend Ty had started when Ty’s family visited earlier last week)…

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(remember he is on vacation….).

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and found him in the garage, planing wood.

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He was drenched with sweat.  Even his hat was dripping…and it was only 9 O’clock in the morning!

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It was already nearing 100 degrees (it got to 105 by Noon – which in Delaware is most emphatically NOT a DRY heat) and My Captain was out working in it.

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He’s the kind of guy who gets hyper-focused, in case you hadn’t noticed.  Anal Retentive to the extreme, he wouldn’t even stop to drink until I stamped my foot and unplugged his power cord.

Yes,  I really behave like that. I’m a tyrant. Don’t judge.

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So I took it upon myself to make him a work-oasis.  I put a beach umbrella out where he was working in the sun.  I took no less than three INDOOR (as in, not safely meant for OUTDOOR) extension cords and put a fan outside (I’m an incorrigible rebel, I confess.  I also rarely put the milk away when I get it out.) where he would be, and switched that puppy on to ‘High.’

Did it make a difference in the heat?

 

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Er, no.

But I bet he felt loved.

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He did eventually call “uncle” and gave it up around 3pm, when he got tired of the relentless, oppressive heat and biting flies.  We dragged him down to the beach, where he was still in relentless, oppressive heat, and was still sweetmeat for the biting flies, but at least he could go jump in the cool, rather shark-infested Atlantic for respite.

Ah, living the dream, I tell you.  Living the dream.

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He plans to finish the shed tomorrow…has to, really, because he signed up to work Overtime at the firehouse for Friday, and so will be cutting his vacation short. (Someone has to pay for my Lindt and Hershey Chocolate habits, for which no rehab has put even the slightest dent.)  As far as the shed project goes, that means putting the siding on, building and installing the doors, and painting any trim.  But he’s totally got this.  He’s a hyper-focused animal, My Captain.  It’s what makes him so good at his job as a fireman and FEMA task-force leader.  He’s always super focused on the mission!

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And we’ve decided to name this particular mission ‘The Hot Box’ in honor of the tortuous conditions he slaved under and survived!

Thank you, Beloved!!!

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~ Usurper ~

Sit back and read a story of betrayal.  Brace yourself for a tragedy and travesty so disheartening, you’ll be left weeping bitter, salty tears.

The story revolves around Macaroni and Cheese, My Captain, the rest of my traitorous family, a prosthetic knee, and me.  You can tell just by those players that this will be a real seat-gripper, can’t you?

Understand this:  I love to cook.  I always have.  I also love to eat.  And almost more than those two combined, I love to feed.

And I’ve gotten pretty good at it.  Almost got cocky about it, really.  There are few problems in life I can’t solve with a decent Baklava.  People know if you are hungry, I can fix it.

Last week I had an arthritic knee taken out of my right leg, and had a new, prosthetic one put in.  It’s been a rough ride because I’ve had not one, but two infections after my surgery.  The knee is doing really well; but I’m still a sick puppy, and on more antibiotics than my stomach can handle.

Nausea has been my constant companion.

So not only can I not stand long enough to cook, I can’t really even enjoy the thought of food. This is the first time in my life for that, I assure you!

Enter My Captain.  If you have read any of my previous posts, you’ll know he is a Captain, Station Commander, Firefighter, Paramedic, Rescue Technician, former Task Force Leader, builder, athlete, outdoorsman, and general manly-man.  But even as varied is talents are, “Cook” has never really something he is known for.

Never the less, over this past week and a half,  he has really stepped up to the plate.  The entire week that I was in the hospital, he never left my side.  And the last few days that I have been home, he has only left my side to do the work that would normally fall under my responsibilities, like laundry, or helping me get in the shower, or preparing ice bags for me, or making sure the kids got to their scheduled events on time, or charting my medicine schedule, or, my personal favorite, putting my jammies in the dryer to warm them for when I got out of the shower. (Ladies, THAT is where you separate the men from the boys!)

Absolutely grateful for this man’s giving nature, the extreme challenge of the last 10 days has been mitigated considerably.  And everything on that list he has done in his own, inimitable, perfectionist way.  It’s been amazing.  I’ve fallen in love with him again, and again, this week alone.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday My Captain cooked dinner.  It was a special dinner – Critter had a birthday!  Critter wanted homemade Mac-n-cheese, fresh mangos, and a “BOB” (from Monsters Vs. Aliens) birthday cake.  Obviously I wasn’t up to the task.   But this was a big deal because Critter loves my homemade Mac-n-cheese.  So I tried to supervise (micromanage) the culinary proceedings until my nausea quite literally drove me out of the kitchen, along with My Captain’s constant, “All Right!  All Right!  I got it already!”

Finally, it was finished.  My Captain, my children, Grandma Jane and I sat down.  It began almost immediately.  “This is the BEST Mac-n-cheese I’ve ever had!”  and, “Wow, Mom has got to do whatever it is you do with this recipe!” and, “Can I have thirds?”.  Even my own mother, who has always had my back in life, got on the bandwagon with, “I don’t usually like Mac-n-cheese, Troy, but I sure would like the recipe for this.”

And me?  My contribution to the discussion?  “It needs salt.”

My Captain hasn’t smirked.  He hasn’t snickered, or rubbed it in.  He has been ever the humble gentleman about it.

And do you know why?

Sure, sure, it has something to do with the good man he is, but deeper than that, it is something far more powerful.

He knows that he has to sleep sometime, and stealing even a piece of my Kitchen Goddess Crown is a dangerously perilous marital crime!

I will say, though, it was tasty……

dammit.

Categories: Family | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

~ If You Can’t Beat ‘Em….~

Every year we decorate the Carved Wooden Moose outside the Little Cottage for various holidays.  On Christmas, he sports Ol’ Saint Nick’s red hat. He really is as festive as any 9-foot moose can be.

Last year, his red hat had a little bit of a mishap, and had to be thrown away.  (By mishap, I mean that I got so frustrated when I couldn’t remove the hat post-New Years, I ended ripping the ding-dang thing clean off of his head.   Apparently I have anger management issues….)

So this year I had the task of sewing the Moose a NEW Santa Claus hat.  My Captain promised he would help design it.  I loved this idea because whenever My (big, strong hunk of a) Captain does something as sweet and sensitive as pick up a sewing needle, I get all gushy and warm inside.  Last year, it happened when Critter’s backpack needed mending….Talk about CHICK magnet.  Good NIGHT!)

Where was I?  Right, My captain started to help designing The Moose’s new holiday hat. I was envisioning just making a ginormous cone hat out of red felt, and then cutting an “X” wherever an antler or ear might be.

This is NOT how My Captain’s Left-Brain personality works.

Before I knew it, he had blue-prints, schematics, and back-up logistic plans in effect.  He was prepared.  Newsprint for pattern making?  Check.  Tape Measure?  Check.  Sharpie?  Check.  Red Felt?  Check.

But My Captain did NOT plan on one eensie weensie, but ultimately IMPORTANT aspect of this process.

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Sir Monty of Stinky Butt.

Oh, sure, he LOOKS benign enough,

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He LOOKS like he is only being attentive….

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He LOOKS like he hasn’t an evil-mastermind within that wee fuzzikins head of his.

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And then…..The Butt Wiggle.

The Butt Wiggle means attack is imminent.

The Butt Wiggle means you’d better hurry up and finish what you’re trying to accomplish.

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Especially if you are working with Sharpie Pens.  On Cream Carpeting.  New Cream Carpeting that would be reason enough for your wife to beat you like a piñata if you got ink on it.

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My Captain tried in vain to ignore Sir Monty.  He endeavored to work around him.

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All that did was induce Monty to call in the reinforcements.  Silly Captain.  You thought this would be straight-forward.  It’s just a Santa Hat, after all.

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My Captain is a smart man.  Wise enough to know when he’s made a fatal miscalculation.  Humble enough to admit defeat.

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He picked up his tape measure, and joined the party.

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Of course, Sir Monty knew all along that this would be how it ended.

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Sir Monty: 1, My Captain: 0.

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~ Where’s Pokey, Dammit?! ~

My Captain spent the day, today, at a FEMA-required Urban Search and Rescue collapse rescue training…a sort of continuing education with his now decades-old participation with Maryland Task Force One.   Montgomery County, Maryland, had an old warehouse they were going to demolish, but beforehand, in an astounding stroke of wisdom, they stocked the building up with mock emergencies like crushed cars and dummy-victims.  THEN they demolished it, and set the collapse rescue techs of Maryland Task Force One on the rubble pile like a pack of dogs.

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Well, actually, they do have dogs….

Anyway, I felt for My Captain today.  He’s been doing this for so long, I know it is not as exciting as it must have been when he was first starting out, decades ago.  He’s been around the block a time or two, and while, yes, there is always a new way to try things, and, yes, there are always fresh ideas to consider, and while, yes, you can never be over-prepared….today was raining torrentially, he had just recently finished a 48 hour shift, and it must have…oh, what is the word that would best suit…. oh yes…it must have SUCKED.

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It had to.  Can you tell from this picture how hard it’s raining on the pile?  So yeah, it must have sucked.  Rain.  Rubble.  Trash and unhealthy dust and ….

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Oh, did I mention they were at it for 12 hours?  Poor guys.

He called once during lunch break, and I asked him to take a few pictures.  I’ve never been to that kind of training, and it’s such a big part of who he is….I wanted to share in it, if only vicariously.

In the past, he has taken pictures of the guys working, but he never sends pictures of himself.  So I asked him particularly to do so.  I want to see My Beloved, after all!  Sure, the other guys are wonderful, but I ain’t a-married to them!  I really wished to see him in his element.  He’s got more years and experience than most people in this field… and I never get to see him in it!

He demurred.  He doesn’t like to pose for pictures.

I begged.

He refused.  Said he was too busy to take the time.

I whined.

He declined.  Tried to change the subject.

I threatened.

He capitulated.

( I’m scary like that. )

But Dang It!  I want to see my husband’s beautiful mug!  I was so glad he relented.

And this is what the turkey sent me.

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Passive Aggressive Son Of A Biscuit.

It’s probably not even him.

As heroic as My Captain is, I have a hard time appreciating the manliness of what he does when he looks like Gumby….

Categories: Fire and Rescue, Urban Search and Rescue | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

~ Tricking The Fireman ~

My Captain had his 48th Birthday yesterday.  We had a small dinner party for him at Goggy and Papa’s house, and Goggy made My Captain’s favorite childhood dish, then dubbed and forevermore thusly known as:   “Chicken in the Black Pot.”

It was yummy.

And I made a cake!  A Chocolate Éclair Cake!

And I made it sugar-free!  I substituted Xylitol for every instance it called for sugar.

It didn’t taste half bad.

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But the candles were the part I wanted to share with you.  I got the dorky re-lighting kind.  I love to do stuff like that.  Call me Mephistopheles.

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But dagnabbit!  That man knew right away what kind of candles they were just by the way they were burning and sparking.  He didn’t even TRY to blow out the candles. He just started snuffing them out with his fingers.

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Which, by the way, OW!

He thought he was foiling my plot!  But ha-ha!  Not so fast, there Skippy!

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It ain’t so easy, there Bucko!

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Whatsamatta, little boy?  Candles won’t stay out?

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Awwwww.

That smile on My Captain’s face?  It’s more valuable to me than chocolate.

And THAT is saying something.

Grandma Jane got My Captain something as well……

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And So It Continues!  THE FAMILY RUBBER CHICKEN.

(It gets re-gifted everywhere)

What?  Doesn’t everyone have one?

 

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