Busted! Ahh Boom, Boom, Boom, Ahh Bang, Bang, Bang!

It’s that season again. It’s Football Time. The boys of fall are back at it. We’re back on the road with family, football, friends and junk food. Can’t get much better than that.

We left on Friday to watch the Pagosa Springs High School Football Team play their first game of the season. They are looking really good. I commend them, they held their own at Centauri. The cheerleaders are awesome this year. They have learned new cheers, new moves, and new pyramids. They yelled their hearts out and tried to get the fans on board.  Much kudos to the teams of Pagosa High.

After the game we headed for another football game at CSU Pueblo, The fans are all in Red, and full of energy. I can feel the rumble of the Thunder.... The music blared, “You knocked me out right off my feet. Ahh Boom, Boom, Boom, Ahh Bang, Bang, Bang!” I’m not sure what all that boom, boom means, but the tune is pretty catchy and I’m still playing that song over and over and over in my head.

We sat with the families of the players. It was if the season never ended. We were back!  I recognized a familiar mother’s voice behind me. “Baby, sac me a quarterback. Baby, don’t let them hurt you.”  A deep Booming Voice, "We want a touchdown, Yes we do!" I waved to Marsha across the parents’ heads. I had met her last year mid dance. She’s a 2nd grade teacher in a School up north. She also never misses a game.

My daughter said, “I would have loved to have her as a teacher when I was in Elementary, Look at her Energy and Rhythm." The natural redhead with the big smile dances the victory dance after each touchdown. She was weighed down with carnival beads, but flying high in CSU Spirit.   Every player on the field and every fan in the stadium is her best friend.

Well, Marsha had nothing on me. I was decked out with my Blue and Red beads, too. I had traded my Pirates black and gold shirt from the night before to my CSU red with a thunder wolf plastered on the front, a mega phone and a wolf tattoo on my cheek. You’ll do anything for your grandchildren.

Before the game, we had some time to spare. The family needed more football memorabilia. Like a hole in their head they needed more, but they thought they did. I guess you can’t get enough of the team’s colors. "It’s the Red Out!" We went to the CSU Spirit Store. I had plenty of spirit so I decided to wait in the car. I needed to study my Greek, so it was a good excuse to get some quiet time.

I was finally alone. Believe me, when I say we travel as a family, we eat together, ride together and stay together. We wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re afraid we might miss something if we stray from the pack.

My family warned me what I can’t put in the newspaper. They joke, “What happens in Pueblo, stays in Pueblo.”  I’ve already forgotten what they warned me about, so I’m free to use my artistic license. Oh, well, my family has held my feet to the fire before.

  

I know ouchy, ouchy, ouchy. 

Now my head is on fire. The pistons in my brain were smoking. After waiting in a hot car and studying Greek for two hours, I needed some protein. I was really getting hungry. I looked around the car. Our youngest daughter had a Moon-Over-Miami sandwich from breakfast.

It was a half eaten, egg, ham and cheese sandwich. I nibbled a few bites. It was really good. I took a few more bites. I tried the hash browns. They were greasy, didn’t want them. I scooted the hash browns around to look like there was more food than before. I spread out the bread to make it look like no one ate it.

I was thirsty. I looked for some water. Surely, some one left their water bottle in the car. I found a blue one in the console. I took a big gulp and another one. I sat the bottle back in the same spot and turned the handle just right. Of course, now I wanted a little something sweet. I found a can of cashews in a travel bag. I took a fistful, then another fistful and pushed the can deep down into the bag. The nuts made me thirsty. I drank some more water from a pink water bottle this time.

It became funny, then funnier to me. I felt like a kid in the cookie jar. I couldn’t help myself. Al came out to the car and asked me what I was giggling about.

I told him I’d been eating the kids’ food, but I didn’t think they’d notice. I had moved everything around so it looked like nothing had been touched.

He said, “They’ll notice, because you have a greasy ring around your mouth. I can’t believe you’d do that. You’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Busted. Ahh Boom, Boom, Boom, Ahh Bang, Bang, Bang.” I sheepishly pouted. “I was so hungry and they were taking so long. I needed protein to supply my head because I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

The family jumped back into the car with bags of more red and blue. They were happy with their purchases. It was 2 pm and now they were hungry.

“Where do you want to eat? Let’s go to Black Eyed Pea.”

I was full. So I said, “Oh, I’m not very hungry. Why are we going to Black Eyed Pea before the game? That’s my favorite place to eat in Pueblo, I didn't think we'd have time. If you insist, maybe I could eat a little.”

“The problem is, your mother ate all your food.” My Sweet Al ratted me out.

I played dumb. That's the best way.

“Mother? How could you do that you knew we'd want to get lunch!”

After the Black Eyed Pea meal, they all carried their leftover-boxes to the car. On the top of one Styrofoam box was written in a bold black marker, “Betty, Don’t eat this. Try to keep yourself in control.” Signed, A big happy face.

Final Brushstroke! After the weekend was over, we drove home and watched the CSU Game on television. It was better the second time around. Ahh, Boom, Boom, Boom. I can’t get that song out of my head. It’s football season and the fun has just begun. I’m back on my diet until next weekend. All this fun shows up on the lips and hips.

Aunt Mary’s Mustache

My friend lives across town forty minutes away. She lives by Hatcher Lake and I live on the Lower Blanco. We talk once a week on the phone. I’ve quoted her many times, but never used her name. My friend wants to stay hidden.

What’s with that? She says she’s an introvert and doesn’t want to be seen or heard. She doesn’t post on Facebook, and she doesn’t use her e-mail. She’s not like the rest of us, who live in our insane world of exposure. I need to change her thinking. Introverts have to be drawn out. The things she says are funny, I can’t keep them to myself.

In our immediate family of twelve, we have nine introverts. I didn’t know my family was actually normal, just irritating.

Irritating or not, my friend has enlightened me about things and over the years our conversations have grown more comical. When we talk on the phone or have lunch together, we go into a George Burns and Gracie act. I’m not sure who’s who. All I know she’s funny, and I need more material for my column. She’s given me permission to use our conversations but I can’t use her name. So, I’ve changed her name to Sheila.

It was news to me when another friend said she liked the way I wrote about My Sweet Al and used humor to do it. She asked me to teach a class. I had to think about it. What makes things funny?

Humor is in the angst. You either get mad or you get happy and make fun of the dilemma or people. Humor is always at some one’s expense. Some one always pays. That’s exactly what happens when I write about My Sweet Al. He’s also an introvert.

When My Sweet Al brought the newspaper into the house I asked him which article was in the paper.

He said, “It’s the Eskimo one.”

I said, “What? Let me see that paper.  I’ve never written about Eskimos in my life. You must mean it was epi gnosko. Discovering my muse. I was discovering you, apparently you weren’t discovering me.”

I called Sheila and said, “I need a break. I’ve taken on another project and my head hurts from thinking. I only have so many brain cells and they’re all firing.”

She broke out in song, “This girl is on Fire. She’s walking on fire… This girl is on fire… Ohhh oh oh oh. We got our feet on the ground and we’re burning it down. Ohhhh oh oh oh, got our head in the clouds, and we’re not coming down.”

I said, “Are you finished?”

“Yes, What else is going on?”

”I’ve been cleaning up dog hair all day. Al’s dog, Whiskey, has so much hair, I could crochet an afghan if I had time.”

“It’s better than wearing it on your lip”. She said, “I’ve got a mug that says beware there’s dog hair at the bottom of this mug.”

“Really, it says that? That’s terrible. Yuck.”

“Talking about hair,” She said. “I have a friend in Florida who had a black and white cat. The cat has a black mustache. And my friend’s Aunt Mary had even a blacker mustache. She named the cat, Aunt Mary.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m going to have to talk to the hair lady who removes womens’ mustaches. She knows all about hair on the face. I think there’s something funny here. I’ve got to write about Aunt Mary’s mustache one day.”

“Change my name if you quote me. You never quote me right.”

“Don’t be such an introvert. I need some new subjects. My daughter said that people are tired of reading about Daddy’s junk.”

My hidden friend said, “Maybe your daughter has something there to think about. I’m blushing as I tell you this. Men are now calling their parts “junk.” It might be better not to write about Daddy’s junk anymore.”

Heaven help me. I’ve told the world. I put it on Facebook. I can’t take it back. Maybe I should be an introvert and hide. My family would like that.  I can’t stop. I’m on a roll. I’ve got two people who are feeding me funny lines now, My Sweet Al and my friend who doesn’t want to be known.

Final Brushstroke! I’m helping out the introverts, giving them a voice. There’s too much good stuff out there to keep it hidden. We need a little laughter, if not, I think we would be crying in our mug with hair at the bottom.

Colorblind – In Your Face Ugly!

I saw the stark blue color from the top of the road and I went into a violent panic attack. I turned onto our steep driveway and gunned it. I didn’t touch the brakes. I pulled up beside Al, stopped, and yelled out the car window, “It’s the wrong color. Stop painting.”

Al turned his head, and looked back at the side of the little cabin he was painting. He barked back over his shoulder and the noise of the paint gun. “You picked the color. I’ve already painted two cabins and I’m almost finished with the third.”

“Stop painting. I mean it. It’s horrible. We’ve got to change the color.”

Al dismissed me with the roll of the eyes and continued to paint. “I’m almost finished with this building and I’m not going to paint them over again. That’s that.”

I shook my head and said to Maynard and Gloria, our visitors from Arizona, “This is terrible. I can’t live with that Tropical Florida blue.”

Maynard, slow-mo, even at a trot, continued watching Al paint. He said, “When Gloria is in a uproar, I’ll tell her to go lay on the couch, it will pass.”

“This is not going to pass. And, I’m not going to lay down on the couch.” I looked at Al again. “Stop. I’ll buy more paint.”

“You picked the color. I like it.”

Gloria, no-nonsense, a zip-line granny, sat beside me in the car. She said,  “Is he colorblind? Pray for rain. Maybe he’ll stop painting.”

“Rain’s not going to stop him. He’s determined to paint all those cabins with that horrible blue. I need to talk to our daughter, Allison. She knows how to make her Dad understand. But if I do, she’ll tell me I told you so. She said she wanted to pick the colors to start with because I picked colors like an artist.”

“How’s that?”

“She thought I might paint the cabins purple. Okay, I did once, I painted everything purple, but I was in my purple phase. I’m not now. I’m seeing red. She won’t be any help. She’ll take her Dad’s side.”

I slid out of the car. I made my presence fully know to Al at the foot of the ladder. I put my hands on my hips and dug my feet into the dirt. “Al Slade, you’re showing off in front of our friends. Come down from that ladder. Stop painting or I’ll have to help you get off that ladder. It’s not going to be pretty.”

Maynard whispered to me, “I don’t think this is the time to shut your Sweet Al down. He’s worked all day, he wanted to surprise you and he’s tired. This is not what he wants to hear.”

“I was surprised. And, this is not what I want to look at for the rest of my life.”

The paint gun sputtered and quit. Al stopped painting and came down off the ladder, “I need more paint. I need to go to town.”

I took a deep breath and said, “Thank you for painting my little cabins. Thank you for surprising me. I know you’re tired. You’ve worked hard all day. I’ll go to the store and buy some more paint.”

“No, I will go.”

“Oh no, let me. You stay here and clean your paint gun.”

I beckoned to my friend Gloria, “Jump in before Al decides to go with us.” I ran to the car. I didn’t wait for Al. I drove to town like a bat out of hades. The store was still open for business.

I took my paint samples into the store. I told the clerk, “I didn’t pick that color. I don’t know how I ended up with that Florida blue. Some one has made a mistake.”

My friend said to the clerk, “She’s had one fight today, I don’t think you want to mess with her.”

I picked another color and we drove home. Al started painting again. Now we have one building with three sides of one color, and one side of another color. Two cabins are one color and the others are different from the other three. It looks like we got a great bargain on paints from the $5.00 mis-tint shelf.

My daughter called and said she was coming over.

“I warn you. It looks like a bunch of shanty shacks. But it’s not my fault. Don’t say, I told you so.”

“Right,” My daughter said. “Live with it, next year when Daddy’s forgotten about it, buy the right color and finish painting them.”

J. B. Priestley said, “Marriage is like an endless visit in your worst clothes.” I think that’s what our visiting friends must have been thinking.

Final Brushstroke! There’s nothing like arguing in front of company. Some fights end up in the front yard. You just can’t wait to take it to the bedroom behind closed doors when it’s in your face, right down ugly. Don’t fight in front of guests. If you do, they might leave or they become family.

A Frenzied Love Affair

Summer came like a gentle lover and went away like a frenzied love affair.

My daughter read this article and said, “It doesn’t make sense, what’s with the gentle lover and frenzied love affair? It’s better to love and lost, than never loved at all?”

It’s a metaphor. The summer started with calm days, yard work, newly planted flowers and grass. We built and dreamed in the gentle breeze. The rains cooled off the days, kept the heat at a minimum.  Even the pesky little bugs and mosquitos stayed away from the Blanco.

Then, summer took off like a love affair, wild, out-of-control and no brakes.  No more time to dream or sit and rock in the evenings. We put out the welcome mat. We left the light on and our long lost relatives showed up on our doorstep.

Out-of-town guests, lots of cars filling parking lots, and standing in long lines at the restaurants and stores. Rivers were filled with happy people floating by. We all went into high gear making hay while the sun was shining.

Our children arrived from California on July 1st for a working vacation. They rolled up their sleeves and said. “We’re going to help you with a garage sale, lets get it done. Daddy needs help to divorce himself of 45 years of accumulated memories.”

My Sweet Al is a lover. He holds the things he loves with a tight fist and respects the objects of his affection. He loved and lost as he watched his memories ride off in a large dumpster. I clapped and smiled as they went away.

I offered My Sweet Al a tissue to dab his tears, assured him that it was okay to hold a place in his heart for lost loved ones. He would surely love again. Then I celebrated his loss with a good meal, invited the whole family, and he paid for our fun.

The Fourth of July came with traditions, craft booths, front row seats in front of Jamie’s, a picnic by the Gazebo, and more people. Our family watched the fireworks from Light Plant Road as we squeezed into a parking place. We also enjoyed an awesome musical at the high school.

It’s been a crazy summer. It felt good while it lasted, lots of good times, but we’re glad it’s almost over. We spent late nights at the softball field with doubleheaders. Four nights a week we watched our grandson and son-in-law’s teams play softball.

The contractor poured the foundation for the garage in May and by the middle of July, the garage was finished. He hung the last door and shut it. For two months, the crew showed up at our door at 8am and worked until 5pm. He took his crew, said goodbye and left. We now hold a signed-approved certificate. It was a little sad to see the crew leave. I had grown accustomed to their faces.

Do you remember the blue truck, which My Sweet Al couldn’t let go of? Well, it’s gone. The blue diamond sat in our yard for fifteen years, and is now being shown off by someone else. It was passed on to a new lover. One of the workers kept his eyes on that truck as he came to work daily. He swooned over it and found a way to win it over from Al. Now we see the truck proudly driven all over town.

The Pagosa Plunge Mud Run capped off the month of July. Our children, who are passionate about the Booster Club, support the boys and girls athletics. They enticed us to help run the concession stand at the event. The planning committee work diligently for one year to make it a success and they’re already making plans for next year. We’re too old for a Mud Run, but we showed up for the kids and will probably do it again next year.

Years ago Al and I held Christian artist and writers’ retreats in our home and at Snow Wolf Lodge. It’s been several years since we had organized a retreat. Friends, artists, and writers had met every year for over twenty-one years here in Pagosa and they asked to come together again.  It seemed fitting to have a Full Circle Reunion this summer with people we have grown old with. It was good times, naps in the afternoon, sipping Geritol tonic, knee slapping, lots of rocking and reminiscing with life-time friends.

My Sweet Al and I drove to town behind a vehicle swerving and crossing the yellow line. We wondered what was going on until we read on the windows, Just Married. In love. Happy Days Ahead. They were spending their honeymoon here in Pagosa.

Within five minutes in town, another vehicle sped passed us with a phone number written in white on the window. Above it read, Just divorced, call me.

I said to My Sweet Al, can you believe it? She’s ready to start over again. It’s kinda like a metaphor. We’ve heard it’s going to be a hard winter, but by spring we’ll be looking forward to summer again.

Final Brushstroke! We said goodbye to guests, summer activities, too many cars and people coming out of the woodwork. Yet by next summer we’ll make plans and we’ll put out the welcome mat again. Why? Because it’s better to love and lost, than to never loved at all. The newly divorcee is already giving out her number and the honeymooners might be looking at a hard winter.

Right now, I’m thrilled things are slowing down. I’m sitting and rocking next to My Sweet Al. I’m looking forward to Saturday nights, watching Hell on Wheels and swooning over Cullen Bohannon. Can’t get much better than that.