So Close

I parked my mom in front of the 25-cent slot machine at the Ocean Downs Casino. I told her I'd be back as soon as I lost the $20 she gave me to spend. Wandering around the casino in search of some sort of sign I was surprised by the number of people, young and old, parked in front of some sort of gambling machine. With the ring of dropping coins in my ear, I settled in at the Hot Peppers penny slot machine, remembering the luck my friend Chuck had with a similar type of machine in Las Vegas years ago.

I had no such luck and within about 10 minutes had cashed out with a mere 9 cents on my paper voucher. Returning to my mother I found her sitting on a stool near where I left her.

"What, did you lose all your money already?" I asked.

My mom replied, "I went to the bathroom and that lady took my machine."

I laughed and reminded her that we had just had a discussion about her wearing Depends this morning. 

We wandered around looking for another suitable 25-cent slot and eventually settled in next to each other, me as the observer, and Mom as the gambler.

In the end, I left with $20 but only because my mom slipped me another twenty and I cashed out the minute it went to $20.50.

On our way out we passed by the first machine my mother had bet on. Her eyes popped when she saw the same older woman who had taken her seat, sitting in front of the same machine, waiting for someone to pay her the two-thousand dollars she had just won.

March is Bustin' Out All Over

My least favorite thing about spring is all the pollen flying around. No matter how beautiful the day, how lovely the breeze was, my windows stayed shut until July. Even so, my throat is covered in yuck and my nose is stuffed with more yuck.

The poor woman who sat next to me at physical therapy doesn't know my history of allergies. So, when I started hacking while sitting less than 1 foot from her I wasn't surprised to see her quickly and quietly pull a mask from her pocket to cover up.

This afternoon, I did my best to relax as the lovely lady at the nail salon worked on my pedicure. She didn't react to my first few coughs but by the time I really got going, she pulled up her mask and then graciously offered me a bottle of water.

I'm hopeful everything that needs to "bust out all over" will get busting soon.

Beach Memories

My parents met in a small beach town on the coast of Maryland. From that first meeting came a romance, a wedding, and then four children. I've been going to Ocean City, Maryland for as long as I can remember. First with my family and then with others. The summers I don't remember have been captured in old black-and-white movies and photos. 

As a teenager, I started going down to the beach with friends. I spent a week with friends before my Senior year of high school and the requisite beach week of beer and shenanigans after graduating.

In my early 20s, I'd take a day trip down on my days off in the summer keeping the beach tradition alive.

Once I moved to DC the trips to OC were fewer. Even so, each and every trip was like a walk back in time. I could see myself as a 5-year-old laughing and screaming on the kiddie rides, then as a teenager banging into every car imaginable on the bumper cars. I have a vision of me walking the beach at night with my best friend Suzanne in search of the cute boys we'd run into earlier, and stopping in disbelief when I heard that Elvis Presley had died. Every block of the 9-mile stretch holds some sort of memory, so it's easy to get lost in thoughts when I'm there.

This weekend I'll be taking my mom for an overnight- the second trip we've taken there since my dad died over a year and a half ago. I like to hear the stories she tells of the times she spent there. Well, every story except for when she points out the hotel where my brother was conceived- that one not so much.

There was the hurricane they rode out in Ocean City, and the hotel she and her best friend Ruth stayed in the year they met my dad. She'll tell me how there was nothing past 42nd Street for many years, she'll wonder how they ever found room for all the condos that have been built in the last 30 years. 

And then there will be times of quiet. Times when we will both be, no doubt, completely in our own heads thinking of our own memories that occurred in that tiny little beach town.

Edgar Time

My cat Edgar and I have a little evening ritual. He meows and meows until I sit down in the recliner so he can stand on my chest and knead on me. For the most part, Edgar is quite the introvert. He has no interest in being held and gives many a look of disgust when I pet him for too long.  He likes companionship on his own terms.

So, most evenings from about 7 to 7:30 you can find me stretched out on the recliner giving Edgar time to show his love at his own pace, and in his own way.

As a fellow introvert, I understand him more than he gives me credit for.

Crawling Towards Break

An overcast Monday means a low-key day in the classroom. I guess that's nice. But honestly, all that lack of energy just made me tired. Even with my own low-key energy, I stayed alert as long as I could after work. Long enough to grade a few projects that needed grading.

Once at home, I dragged myself out for a walk around the neighborhood in the hopes of perking up a bit. So far, that didn't seem to do the trick. So, I'll be eyeing the clock and the sunset time to see when I can crawl back into bed and dream about Spring Break next week.

It's going to be a long week.

Tea Time

Growing up soda was a luxury- the kind of drink I got on vacation, out on a boat while crabbing, or when I spent the night at Granny's house. At home, we had Kool-Aid, water,  or Hi-C.

As I got older the Kool-Aid and Hi-C disappeared and were replaced by iced tea, my mother's fresh brewed iced tea, complete with the sugar boiled right in. The big iced tea container, complete with its own spout usually made its first appearance around Memorial Day. It could always be found ready to serve in our avocado green refrigerator.

Eventually, I started watching my mother make the tea. Every other day or so she would take out the small saucepan and fill it up with water. Next came a cup of sugar poured into the pan, followed by 10-12 tea bags. The tea bags were stripped of any tags so they would not catch fire while dangling so close to the heat of the stovetop. Once everything came to a boil, and before it started spilling onto the stovetop, my mom removed it from the heat to steep for what seemed like forever.

Finally, she would pour the brown liquid into the spouted container. Then came time to wring out the tea bags into another pot of cold water. That light brown liquid would be added, followed by whatever amount of water was needed to fill up the container. 

It was always perfect.

When I moved out, I took my mom's iced tea recipe with me. I cut the sugar out of it and impressed many a housemate with my tea-brewing skills. Those first few years when money was tight I always had something cool and delicious to drink on hot summer days. 

For me, iced tea season still starts around Memorial Day. However, today's clear blue skies and warm sun reminded me I need to fish out my small "ice tea pan" and check my supply of tea bags.

A Different Saturday

This rainy Saturday started like most Saturdays. My eyes opened when they were ready and I had the first load of laundry going before I walked downstairs for coffee. Eventually, I made it back upstairs to deal with the growing piles of clothes, some dirty, some not, that had been growing on the loveseat in my bedroom. 

Once the clothes were sorted and off to their next destination I laced up my sneakers and headed down to the gym for a little cycling. After getting permission from my physical therapist I ended my exercise session with a little elliptical time.

By 3:00 PM laundry was done and the house was sort of tidy, and my afternoon would have gone on like a lot of Saturday afternoons- me procrastinating grading by thinking up things to research on the internet.

This Saturday afternoon was going to be different, I needed to get myself cleaned up for a friend's arrival around 4:30. Julie and I were heading across the river for dinner and a play.

We took in a show called, "This Girl Laughs, This Girl Cries, This Girl Does Nothing" at the Anacostia Playhouse. It was a coming-of-age play about three sisters, abandoned in the woods by their father. They, in turn, go off into the world to find their passions.  There were sad moments, tender moments, and laugh-out-loud moments. Thanks to the intimacy of the black box theater there wasn't a bad seat in the house. 

So maybe this day started off like many others, but it didn't end that way. I like that.