Dipsy and Doodle and Lil’ Officer Storm the Beach

God really blessed me the day he introduced me to my friend Andrea eight years ago.  I had just taken her prior job as a teacher assistant in Special Education.   She had moved up to a living wage job in a hospital and I was just crazy enough to accept the challenge of her former position.  Some days were hard; the difficulties these kids faced were incredible, but we both loved the job very much.  More than that, we became friends as we compared anecdotal stories about working with special-needs kids.    What bonded us immediately was our humor.  Because if you couldn’t laugh at yourself, you would not survive a job and the heartache of an entirely different world of kids that often made you want to cry.

I only lasted a year since I was suddenly with child at age forty!  Before you say woops, let me just say I’ve always been a non-conformist and leave it at that.  After my little guy was born, she was one of the first friends to come visit.  Up to then, we had only been friends in a professional setting, comparing notes and laughs that only people who work in Special Ed can understand.

We have an easy breezy way with one another.  Mostly it’s because we both passed forty a while ago, we both have three kids (both having two sons and a daughter), we both like to work out at the gym together despite our futility to “get ripped”.  About the only thing we ever ripped together was coupons from Sunday’s paper, but I digress.  We know we need to turn up the intensity of our workouts, but frankly that would be the buzz kill of our conversation time.  So we just maintain the status quo of our walkie-talkie relationship.

We are blonded together in both bottle and spirit.  Both of us are pretty awesome at not fixing what ain’t broken!  In fact, generally, we don’t give a seashell about things that are.  We’re both known for saying, “Pfftttt, who cares?!”

Together we are lazy and we laugh.  Between the two of us, we possess over one hundred years’ worth of wisdom!!    We both passionately love theater.  We both are willing to work triple over-time to see the  great Broadway plays that come to NC a few times a year.  Well, she is.  She works about 70 hours for each of my 30.  She is one busy worker bee!  And there’s this:

We always say that put together, we are the equivalent of one perfectly self-actualized, fully functioning adult brain.

      Here’s the thing:  We both have a lot, and I mean a WHOLE LOT, of what we refer to as “Dipsy Doodle” moments.    These are the opposite of Oprah’s “Aha” moments and more closely resemble the Three Stooges.  “Where in the world did I put my keys?  Did you take my keys?  Oh great, now I can’t find my wallet.  Hold the elevator.  Just a sec; let me run inside and pee!  Do you want me to grab you a soder on the way out?”     Too bad for the family of six who are all dripping sand and water and are anxious to get up to their hotel room.  They will just have to wait a second already!

See my girl Andrea is from Queens, and I’m a Taurus, and she’s nearly one (she missed the cut off by minutes I swear!) so we have this way of making things work out, well…..perfectly.

That’s because we both are barely bossy, yet easily pleased and generally happy.  If our hotel doesn’t have cockroaches or bedbugs, we are more than satisfied.  The important thing is did we get the cheapest one?  Like Trump, it’s all about the art of the deal in our mind.    We know the real secret of a good beach vacation:  Go south, get a cheap hotel with a kitchen and park super close to the beach.

Easy beach access and cooking in the room is great, but our favorite part is when the other guests are SO DANG interesting.      This weekend I told her we were blessed to be staying in what could only be deemed as Redneck Paradise.  It was People Magazine Polar Opposite in the flesh on steroids!  I don’t mean that as a slam; I was just so excited to be surrounded by so many people I hope to include in a future great literary work of fiction.   Real life often reveals people and characters begging to be described that you couldn’t normally even dream of when trying to write fiction.

We saw someone I will call Pete the Pirate, or perhaps Pete the former Navy Seal with his super model girlfriend.  He impressed me on many levels, foremost his sheer comfortableness of removing his prosthetic leg and absolutely loving an ocean adventure!   He had super long jet black hair that whipped his face furiously as he crawled into a very windy and wild surf.    He pulled his personal Christie Brinkley look-a-like into the water where they took turns laughing and groping and majestically kissing one another and splashing in the waves.  It was like watching a dark-haired Fabio come to life in the ocean.  It made me wish I had a camera until I realized that would be tad bit purvey.  When the Pirate and Christie weren’t frolicking in the ocean, they were donning leather chaps sans helmets (it’s SC y’all) and getting ready to ride their Harleys.   It was what can only be described as his intensity and zest for life that made me observe more astutely than normal.

My little boy was quick to point out to a group of foreigners on our elevator that there was a certain smell coming out of their kitchen on our floor.  He also told two wrinkled twin grandmothers in the hotel hot tub that our room was destroyed, utterly destroyed when he was sitting just a few feet out of my hearing range.  I leaned over to Andrea and said, “I better go get him.  He’s probably spilling family secrets.”

Two second later:  The kindly grandmothers let me know, “He’s spilling all your secrets!  He said your room is a HUGE mess!”  Well that was a slight exaggeration, but still as is his custom and ours, he made an impression.  Later, when several grownups decided to take a dip in the tub, he was speedy quick to remind them that sessions are only to be fifteen minutes and they are not to drink ALCOHOL.  He knew that because he could read the signs.  Well then–it’s comforting that we have a six year old officer to maintain order and control!

Yes for forty eight hours, we laughed ourselves silly!  I read an old cheesy beach romance novel  in one morning and lamented the success of its writer who made the NY Times Bestseller’s List–multiple times!!  The entire book was built on sentences only a first grader could write!  We observed that Michelle Obama may possibly have a point in the fact that some people really can’t control their eating or their frequent German lover on the side–Hagan Daaz!    We rejoiced in the fact that we were the “skinny” moms on the beach—well, mostly.  Except for the occasional super model (translation: everyone UNDER age 30).   We laughed about our husbands who weren’t there to defend themselves, but reminded ourselves how thankful we are too.  We talked about dumb things we did in high school and rejoiced in the fact that is not who we are now.  We shared the burdens of being a mom and a wife and a worker, while accepting the realities of aging—being sandwiched somewhere in the middle of anxiety and grace, health concerns ranging from birth to death, aging parents, and children who’ve been known to cause a gray hair or two, and thereby justifying our blonde habit.

We played in the ocean and watched my son like a hawk in the stormy sea.  The caution flag flew the whole time and my back never touched the sand.  My little boy who is scared to fall asleep alone is absolutely fearless in the pounding waves.

       By the end of our short stay, my son newly empowered by taking on the force of the ocean, took his life jacket off and finally got the hang of swimming on his own in the pool.  What an accomplishment!  I’ve waited five summers for this day to arrive!

Our first night we went out for delicious Italian food at Travinia’s.  Later we eavesdropped on a group of French high school kids singing rap songs that sounded weirdly elegant, snobby even, as we ate ice cream outside the theater.  We saw dozens of smiling Batman and Joker imitators and one person dressed up, strangely enough, as a bottle of Mustard.  After words, during another Dipsy Doodle moment, okay make it twenty, we walked around aimlessly because we had temporarily misplaced my mini-van.   The next day we mourned when we heard about what happened in Colorado.  Our trip concluded with what had to have been a 5000 calorie buffet at Mammy’s Kitchen, where yet again, we almost were the skinny ones.

The beach trip went by in a blur.   We talked and laughed so much!  Sometimes we were quiet and just read.  We built sandcastles, jumped waves, and played in the water.  We made and ate good food.  We drank juice-box style Pina Coladas in the evenings.   We celebrated that though life is hard, it is also very good, if you are willing to appreciate the smallest of victories, kind deeds by others, and sheer beauty God puts before us every second of every day!

It doesn’t take money or an itinerary or an agenda to have a great vacation or be a great friend.  It just takes time—time enough to laugh, share, reminisce, pray, and love.    Laugh about yesterday, treasure today, and pray and hope for tomorrow.

    For Andrea—my friend with a GREAT heart!

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