Over 90 Degrees In Maine...
When we were having the house built back in 2002 the question of a/c came up. We laughed, having come from Virginia and previously Texas, this seemed totally unnecessary and it is, except for a few select days of the year when you want to freaking murder someone cause it's so freaking hot.
Two occasions stand out in my mind. Brad and Mrs. C. (again, names withheld to protect, actually she's dead so it doesn't really make a difference.)
Brad is my brother-in-law, the youngest of the four brothers, The Donald is the eldest. Brad is a great guy, sells steel, cooks, cleans, I'm sure he has his downsides, but all in all I think the world of Brad. He also plays soccer and we rib him about this constantly, like all of us morons showing up to his son's graduation in Sambas. He loved that. We've got another graduation in a couple weeks and I'm sporting my Sambas - yeah boy!
One July we were all hanging at the Lake House and usually Brad is cooking something, Lovey is milling about organizing us fools and I am preparing something. Brad and I bicker, argue, fight, occasionally punch each other and overall have a fun time. Lovey yells at us and we agree to act like adults, whatever. That particular gathering had added folks in the kitchen, these people stand about and make observations. Their input is not an asset. The kitchen temperature climbed to 94, the bumping and comments increased. Brad let loose, "Goddamn it!!! It's too friggin' hot in here, screw you all, I'm going into the lake." Our reaction? We all remained very calm and serene until he left, then we burst out into laughter. It was hot and as we like to say, "Poor Brad."
The second story involves Mrs. C. who lived down in the cove. Again temperatures were in the 90 and there was no relief in site. We were preparing to take a boat ride, which involves a lot of yelling, instructing and what would a boat trip be without, yes, swearing?!
As we are doing the Chinese Fire Drill in the boat, a car backs down to the beach and Mrs. C. emerges. she announces, "I told John, I can't take it anymore, I need a dip in the lake." She had on shorts, a top, orthopedic shoes and a cane. Yes, a cane. Can you smell the disaster? We were all in the boat and The Donald was under the, for lack of the proper word, dashboard, friggin with the riggin', I know that's the wrong term, but it's cool. I was standing, praying for this to be a successful ride during which we might go a speed that didn't make my boobs feel like they would be ripped off at anytime.
As I watched Mrs. C. waddle into the water, I kept thinking, "My, but the bottom of that lake is slippery." Sure as hell, she took a digger, that is Maine-speak for, she feel head first into the water. Turns out the cane was being used to support her ample weight which was even more necessary now that she had BOTH DAMN KNEES REPLACED!!!
Seeing this I jumped from the boat to the dock. Remember where The Donald was? My jumping rocked the boat and he bashed his head. More swearing, but who notices at this point? I ran across the dock and jumped into the water, yuck!!!, and grabbed Mrs. C. You know how people have superhuman strength and can lift cars off of people. I didn't have that. I thought I was going to blow a blood vessel in my head trying to hoist Mrs. C. from the 4 inches of water in which she was drowning. I hauled her out and she started yelling, "JOHN!!" John was comfortably listening to talk radio while his wife was blowing bubbles in Damariscotta Lake. Nice.
Alls well that ends well, Mrs. C survived, John died soon there after. I think he willed himself dead after what I witnessed of that relationship. And Poor Brad.
Two occasions stand out in my mind. Brad and Mrs. C. (again, names withheld to protect, actually she's dead so it doesn't really make a difference.)
Brad is my brother-in-law, the youngest of the four brothers, The Donald is the eldest. Brad is a great guy, sells steel, cooks, cleans, I'm sure he has his downsides, but all in all I think the world of Brad. He also plays soccer and we rib him about this constantly, like all of us morons showing up to his son's graduation in Sambas. He loved that. We've got another graduation in a couple weeks and I'm sporting my Sambas - yeah boy!
One July we were all hanging at the Lake House and usually Brad is cooking something, Lovey is milling about organizing us fools and I am preparing something. Brad and I bicker, argue, fight, occasionally punch each other and overall have a fun time. Lovey yells at us and we agree to act like adults, whatever. That particular gathering had added folks in the kitchen, these people stand about and make observations. Their input is not an asset. The kitchen temperature climbed to 94, the bumping and comments increased. Brad let loose, "Goddamn it!!! It's too friggin' hot in here, screw you all, I'm going into the lake." Our reaction? We all remained very calm and serene until he left, then we burst out into laughter. It was hot and as we like to say, "Poor Brad."
The second story involves Mrs. C. who lived down in the cove. Again temperatures were in the 90 and there was no relief in site. We were preparing to take a boat ride, which involves a lot of yelling, instructing and what would a boat trip be without, yes, swearing?!
As we are doing the Chinese Fire Drill in the boat, a car backs down to the beach and Mrs. C. emerges. she announces, "I told John, I can't take it anymore, I need a dip in the lake." She had on shorts, a top, orthopedic shoes and a cane. Yes, a cane. Can you smell the disaster? We were all in the boat and The Donald was under the, for lack of the proper word, dashboard, friggin with the riggin', I know that's the wrong term, but it's cool. I was standing, praying for this to be a successful ride during which we might go a speed that didn't make my boobs feel like they would be ripped off at anytime.
As I watched Mrs. C. waddle into the water, I kept thinking, "My, but the bottom of that lake is slippery." Sure as hell, she took a digger, that is Maine-speak for, she feel head first into the water. Turns out the cane was being used to support her ample weight which was even more necessary now that she had BOTH DAMN KNEES REPLACED!!!
Seeing this I jumped from the boat to the dock. Remember where The Donald was? My jumping rocked the boat and he bashed his head. More swearing, but who notices at this point? I ran across the dock and jumped into the water, yuck!!!, and grabbed Mrs. C. You know how people have superhuman strength and can lift cars off of people. I didn't have that. I thought I was going to blow a blood vessel in my head trying to hoist Mrs. C. from the 4 inches of water in which she was drowning. I hauled her out and she started yelling, "JOHN!!" John was comfortably listening to talk radio while his wife was blowing bubbles in Damariscotta Lake. Nice.
Alls well that ends well, Mrs. C survived, John died soon there after. I think he willed himself dead after what I witnessed of that relationship. And Poor Brad.
Comments
Post a Comment