WTF-Love Lessons

"What?"

Yes, that's the word that usually defines my relationship with the hubby.  Today was just another ordinary case of WTF.  Our son was invited to a birthday party of a friend in TN, of course he wanted us to take him there, but needed us to conveniently disappear because his girlfriend was there as well.  I put the address in the GPS.

339 KELWEN PRIVATE DR  (address made up so you don't stalk the poor folks)

Off we go.

It is a nice family drive of us telling the boys to look out the window of the car at all the amazing sights of TN:

Look!  There's a guy walking by the side of the highway with no shirt and his butt crack hanging out!
Look, can you believe they fit that many cars in their front yard.
Look!  Anyone want a "meat and three" for lunch?



Along with the Look! There's Bristol Motor speedway!
Look at how soft the mountains are!

What should have been a 45 minute drive turns into an hour and a half as we turn on this lonely road climbing a mountain.

Should we be climbing a mountain?  Maybe the lake is on the other side.
Wow, that's a lot of trailers, the son says nervous.
Look at all the barbed wire fence, and big dogs, the other son says.

I'm remaining calm, thinking maybe we have to go through the drug neighborhood getting to the lake on the other wide, but the GPS says, "You have arrived at your destination."

We look at the run down mobile home, fenced with dogs barking, confederate flag, old toilet sitting in a pile of garbage in the driveway.  I check the text message again,

339 KELWENS PRIVATE DRIVE.

I look at the sign.  339 KELWEN PRIVATE DRIVE.

That's when my hubby looks at me, "Did you forget the S?"  The curtains in the mobile home move probably someone deciding if they needed the shotgun or not.

Uh.

He doesn't scream.  He quickly throws the car in reverse as one child says, "look their front door is opening" and we get out of there.  I add the "S" to the address and we are 45 minutes BEYOND where we are supposed to go.

Love means being totally pissed off with your wife's "WTF" moment, quietly driving the extra 45 minutes back to 336 KELWENS PRIVATE DRIVE.  Sure you could cut the silence with a knife, but it was better than beating on the steering wheel and yelling.

We pull in and the group of 8 14yr olds are getting ready to go out on the boat, our son looking at us like, "You can disappear now" as he jumps in the boat putting his arm around his girlfriend.  We watch the boat pull off, the hubby saying, "Well we gave him confidence, now didn't we?"

We plan on going to Abington VA, visiting a restaurant, hiking, just killing time until the birthday party is over, but our hosts have other plans.

"Oh no.  You are not leaving. We were just making cocktails." They grab for the truck keys. I don't know these people.  But a lake, a boat, and the word cocktails, hell, I'm in. Hubby looks at me, shrugs, love means just going for it and being pleasantly surprised in the end.

We relax on the dock, then when we mention we were going someplace for lunch, they do what most Southerners do, "Oh, we'll just put you in the boat and motor over to the marina."  This is said matter of fact, there is no choice, you are going to have fun whether you want to or not.

I am reminded how couples do it together as we sit and visit with people we hadn't plan on meeting when we woke that morning.

"Honey, remember we're going to that BBQ later, don't drink a lot you don't want to peak before the party."  A new word for me as I laugh, peak.  Ha ha, I thought that meant nap time. I think back to times at the Skybar when my hubby says, "Don't forget we're supposed to go to Greg's for dinner tonight."  Oh, and I might have peaked.

"He was cutting the lawn with the zero turn mower and wanted to cut LOVE in for me, but all he got was the L.  I knew what he meant."  Sweet sentiments, I still have our wedding certificate where he got my name wrong and my age because he was nervous.

Usually in our time together, I'm caught saying, "Oh crap.  Did I screw up again?"  Love means not saying, "YES!" just quietly undoing any damage done.  Usually this entails something fun in the end.

We laugh, enjoying time on the boat, the day warm but a nice breeze makes it comfortable.  Our other son is playing in all the leftover childlike fun of a house at the lake, cleaning out a tree house, hitting golf balls, jumping off the dock.

Our host pulls out a bottle of 15 year old unfiltered bourbon, my hubby whispering to me, "That's a 425 dollar bottle of bourbon."  Opens it for a taste, we're shocked.

"Friends have been giving us this every year for staying at our home during Bristol races.  Our friends come over and we can drink it in a night, didn't know it was the good stuff.  We're used to the cheap stuff."

Wife looks at hubby, "We're not going to the BBQ now are we."  She looks at me sighing, "When you are together for a long time, it is just too tiring getting irritated with the things that used to get you irritated."  Wise words, my friend, wise words.

Love is recognizing that plans change and rather than fighting it, just going for it.  We settle tasting one of the best bourbons I've ever had, enjoying the company of two strangers now friends.

The boat comes back and all the kids get into Ultimate Frisbee, I watch my son and his girlfriend sitting on the deck, talking and holding hands.  Love is those quiet times just being together.

We stay as long as we can, telling both disappointed boys it really was time to go.  My son and girlfriend walk to our car out of sight, I know is his first kiss.  I sigh.  Love is remaining calm and happy remembering your first kiss.

On our drive home, one son exhausted from playing, the other with a slight smile on his face, my hubby driving, the Super Moon appears, I think, well, today certainly did not turn out the way I expected. We learned new things about Tennessee, Google Maps, check your addresses, what a good bourbon tastes like, and witnesses our son's first kiss!  Plan B was never so exciting.

How to properly sub your first exercise classes

I now have total respect.

Total respect.

For Fitness Instructors.

I've been taking fitness classes most of my life, in fact, I love exercising.  Getting older has made the classes more of a mandate as everything goes where it is not supposed to go.  I was asked by a friend to sub in a yoga class, then a Stretch Tone and Balance class as she is out of town.

Sure, I said, I've been taking these classes for-evah why not?  How hard can it be?

Hard.

It didn't help that I was up most of the night before the class running through the routine in my mind, almost getting out of bed making sure I knew the poses.  It didn't help that everyone, including me, was running late this morning so arriving at the yoga class with a calm and peaceful heart was not in the cards.

So I start with about 8 people running through my routine.  How can I properly screw up the class?

1.  It is hard to do yoga poses while explaining them to the class.  I have respect for the teacher that can still talk after a few sun salutations.  I sounded like a porn actress, my voice taking on a breathless quality because I was breathless!

2.  It is much harder holding the poses when people are watching you than hanging out in a class. My legs were shaking, I even caught myself holding my breath.

3.  My students were on the silver haired side, when several farted during holding the poses I tried not to laugh, then worried, am I doing too much?

I relax into it, running through all the sequences in my mind, acting like nothing was going on when a few other passes gas.  We get all the way to the end and as they are in corpse pose I realize, "Damn I never did a single child's pose during class!  No rest for anyone.  No wonder they were farting!"

The next class was working out with weights, I decided I had to look capable as an instructor and picked up 8lb weights rather than my 5lb weights.  By the end of it, I was sweating like a pig, the other women looking like they'd stepped out of the spa.  When we went to the mat to do our abdominal exercises I swear we all fell on the mat.

What did I learn out of this?

I am not too bad of a yoga instructor.  I have so much more to learn, I think this could be a new pursuit.

My arms are going to hate me after those 8lb weights for 35 minutes.

Nobody went running to management complaining that I killed them.

So maybe it was a good day.

I'll see how sore I am tomorrow.

Is He Talking to Me? Or Hello There! - Beech Mountain, NC

Either on your first trip to Beech Mountain, or your 40th year of living here, there are two types of people on the mountain.  Those who wave and those who don’t wave.  

Those who wave are a very jolly lot, they are happy to be on the mountain, in the cool summer breeze and show it by showing appreciation to everyone they see.  This starts in the car.  When driving the roads of Beech Mountain, keep your right hand free from the steering wheel because you will spend a lot of time waving back to people you do not know.  This includes the driver in the other car just being courteous, the walker by the side of the road making sure you see them to your kids chasing behind the car because you forgot them.  “We's all family on Beech Mountain," meaning we expect everyone to be courteous, that means wave.

Non wavers are usually not from the area.  If they moved here and didn’t wave after the first few weeks, someone would explain to them that waving is expected on Beech Mountain.  An elderly friend came to visit, we were driving down to the Beech Mountain Club pool, I was stunned, he was clearly violating the wave policy of the mountain.  “Why are all these people waving to me?  I don’t know any of them.” He muttered, his hands staying at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel navigating the windy roads.  “They are trying to be friendly,” I answered back, waving for him, figuring if they saw me wave the sentiment was expressed therefore we stay in good standing.  “They need to go wave to someone else.” He muttered slowly driving his 15 miles per hour.  These people usually come from the North, where everyone isn’t family in a small given area, they usually think someone waving to them means stop and pick them up so they can rob you. Usually these types gun the engine continuing on.

Another non-waver is the new driver to Beech Mountain, they are so busy trying to navigate the switchbacks while not hitting other drivers, adding in a wave is just beyond their comprehension.  I was in the car with a new driver, explaining the wave policy, his face turning white, I added, “Don’t wave, I’ll do it for you.  Just keep your hands at 10 and 2.” So if you wave to someone and they don’t wave back with that deer in the headlights look, just figure they are trying to avoid a collision with you, quite possibly saving your life.

Some wavers are very enthusiastic, one example during the summer is the senior citizen.  If you see them waving at you in a panic, don’t worry.  You can still stop and ask if they are having a heart attack, but you’ll find the reason they are waving is for you to “SLOW DOWN!”  It doesn’t matter if you are doing 20 or 8 miles per hour, it will be too fast for this poor soul walking his little dog.  Just wave back at him and move along on your merry way.

The other type of enthusiastic wavers, are the people waving that actually know you.  Believe me, the longer you stay on Beech Mountain, the more people will know about you.  It will go from the casual acquaintance to the, “I saw your red 2013 Acura with the dent on the right front panel in the parking lot of the restaurant and thought I’d come in and say hello.”  No really, they will know the car you drive, the color of the clothes you wear on the ski slopes, to the color of your yoga mat for exercise class.  If they are waving enthusiastically, just do the same because you probably do know them, you just haven’t seen them yet without their goggles.

Which brings me to the friendliness of this small mountain town, everyone is family when it comes to Beech Mountain.  One epic family story involves a local legend, who I invited over to dinner after skiing on the slopes.  I never saw him that night figuring he got a better deal until the next day he was screaming at me from the lift chair, telling me to stop and wait right there for him.  He came flying down the hill with this story:

“You’re not going to believe it.  I went over to your house last night.”

“What? I didn’t see you.”

“Hold on.  I went in took my shoes off leaving them by the door like everyone else.  I am polite like that.  I went a grabbed a beer from the fridge, sat on the sofa for the football game, cracked open the beer then looked around.  I didn’t recognize a soul.”

“What?”

“I was in the wrong house!”  He was laughing, he was still with us so no one shot him.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Well, they invited me to dinner.” He said matter of factly.

Of course, we’re on Beech Mountain.  “What did you do?”  I asked, incredulous.

“I stayed and ate.”

So if you want to be part of Beech Mountain family, then practice your waves.  Your prom waves, your wrestler tap outs, to simply the “I don’t know you but I’ve read here that you are supposed to wave” waves, we’re all family on the mountain and you may just get a free meal out of it.