Creating Memories

Kaker & Matt & Pat cropped-best

mud run-pat & karen

Kids Triathlon-Matt

Sunday, May 31, 2015
Today I am grateful for creating memories. We have an old friend visiting for a few days and we are having a blast. That’s why you didn’t hear from me yesterday and I’m sure you are still weeping into your waffles about it.

As most geezers do when they hook up and start reminiscing, we had a long discussion about how long we’ve known each other. I’ve known Tim for about forty years and my husband has known him for about 36. Wow. Time is a real twister of the memory. Some people fit into your lives so easily that you don’t even have a clear picture of meeting them. That’s us.

My kids have known him for almost their entire lives, too. When I was divorced he was the “man” who wrestled with them, hollered at them and chest-punched them. They loved it back then. It turns out they still do, although they could probably take him now.

We had a great story-telling, elbow-bending, joke-filled brawl at my youngest son’s house on Friday night. Beverages flowed freely and each time it was suggested (by me) that we end the little gathering someone else (one of them) decided they should have another. . .whatever. I was designated driver. Not by choice, but by observation and the realization that no one else had any intention of wondering how we would get home. The most fun was watching my two boys, now grown men, sling barbs with my husband and our old friend. There were so many belly laughs that I think I might need my funny bone surgically removed. My daughter-in-law finally went to bed because they were doing a mud-run in the morning. My oldest son rode back to our place so he could help a friend with his son’s triathlon at seven a.m. I’m sure both of them were haunted by their grandpa, my dad’s words, “You gonna be a fool and drink like a dog all night, then you better be able to get up and go to work in the morning.”

Dragging them home was no easy task. Hmmmm, three party-animals in a car for almost an hour. . . let’s just say I got a taste of what late-night taxi drivers have to endure. People who can barely speak, honestly believe that every word they say is hilarious! Sometimes they are, sometimes not so much. You know you’re living large when you get home and your newspaper is already delivered. It was worth it. I felt fine. I’m sure everyone was exhausted yesterday. . .but they made it to their morning events and I have the pictures to prove it! Grandpa Willie would be so proud.

I might have to be the curator of this newly created memory. And I can twist it any way I want. Now there’s a belly-laugh!

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