Who needs med school?

Well, so once again while we were on our beach vacation, it came to pass that a member of my sister's family needed to have stitches removed.  It has become our family tradition!  So once again, Uncle Doctor soaked his medical instruments in vodka (you cannot be too careful, people), and prepared to remove the seven sutures that the cavalier cousin had acquired in some sort of college capers and/or shenanigans.

 

OK, so the other thing that is true is that the girl in charge is taking an EMT course this summer.  She hopes to be a doctor some day, but in the meantime, she is totally thrilled to own her own stethoscope and blood pressure cuff.

I know, right?!

 

So it made total sense to all of us that Uncle Doctor should give a lesson or two, and then the girl in charge should remove the sutures.  Because obviously.

Weird . . . no one asked the cavalier cousin how he felt about this plan . . . .

Well, so before the action started, Uncle Doctor whined a little bit about how the light wasn't very good, and quick as a cricket, multiple relatives pulled out multiple iPhones with multiple flashlight apps.

 

Uncle Doctor was much happier.  Then he showed the girl in charge how it's done.  She was riveted.

 

She wasn't the only one.

And then -- Uncle Doctor handed the scissors and the tweezers (from a cousin's glamour bag) over to the girl in charge, and she took out the rest of the stitches.

It was really cool!

Her hair was bugging her (and was making the cavalier cousin question the whole proceeding), so a cousin got drafted to hold her hair back -- STAT!  I'm sure there's medical terminology for this.  What is it?

Uncle Doctor was fabulous.  After collecting the cavalier cousin's insurance information and making him sign a liability waiver, he was totally chillaxed and calm, and was a great coach for the girl in charge, who was nervous and excited and nervous.  Her one terse comment:  "This is really fun."  Uncle Doctor grinned, and said, "It is, isn't it?"

Here's what I love:

 

Well, so this past weekend I packed up the sunny girl and the husband, and took them along with me on a little mini-vacation to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, to meet up with some of my besties from college.

People, we had a fabulous time!

My friends and I have seen each other only sporadically over the years.  Partly this is because they settled down over there, and he lives way up there, while I came back to my hometown down here.  It's also true that life and stuff happened (as it does to us all), and there were some lean years when the money for a get-away seemed (at the time) to be better spent on rent or the mortgage, and braces for the kids, and dance lessons, and a new car to replace the POS, and college tuition for the urchins, and a new softball bat, and summer camp and medical bills and . . . . You get the picture.

But this year we all turned fifty, and we (by which I mean Allison) decided that to celebrate, we needed to lay eyes on each other in person, and not just on Facebook.

 So Allison is quite the cruise director as it turns out.  She found us the most fabulous house that is the farthest thing from a shack you can imagine, and waved a magic wand so that both her girl and my girl could take the PSAT at a time that didn't ruin our plans, and nudged Terry and me into confirming those plans and packing our bags and actually getting our asses into gear -- all without raising her voice once.

I just love Allison!

Check out this awesome house!

There were the most comfortable, nap-worthy sofas . . . 

. . . including this one that the two teenagers decided was the "best sofa ever" and plotted to sneak into a duffle bag.  I never said they had good spatial relations.

There was a most excellent porch off of the bedroom assigned to the husband and me . . .

. . . and king-sized beds for both of the loving couples in the group.  Dennis and Allison needed a ladder to get into their bed, and worried about nosebleeds all night long -- but tell me the glamour of this room is not worth a nose bleed??

Terry cooked for us in a beautifully appointed kitchen (words like Viking and Sub-Zero can be bandied about here), and provided -- single-handedly -- a meal that included roasted chicken, mushroom risotto, salad with creamy goat cheese, and white chocolate mousse.  For real, y'all.

It did not suck.

We watched old movies (Oklahoma! and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, because we do love the show tunes), and played cards (and Terry just appears to be sweet, but really is a ruthless, Hearts-dominating bastard, which I say lovingly even though I got my ass kicked), and strolled along Rehoboth Avenue . . .

But mostly, we just loved spending time together. 

These are the people who helped me grow up.  We all met on the very first night of Freshman Orientation, in August of 1980, and have been friends ever since.  They have known me at my worst and my best, my silliest and my most earnest, drunk and sober, happy and sad.  And they have loved me all along.

How lucky am I?

Things I Did This Summer Instead of Blogging -- in random order because I've lost track of my head

OK, so I had quite the event-filled summer with the family.  Much (though not all) of it was even fun.  Some lousy stuff happened, too -- and between the happy and the crappy, I was hoppin' all summer.  Hoppin' -- but not bloggin'.

And the whole summer really has gotten all jumbled up in my head, so I"ll just ramble.  Try to keep up.

1.  (Or maybe 4.)  The tall boy's freaking lung collapsed.  Again.  So once again he and I made the familiar jaunt to the Emergency Department of the good old Virginia Hospital Center, where once again he was admitted and scheduled for surgery.  This time the procedure (called a pleurodesis) was a little more dramatic, but all went well.

After five days of quality time with a chest tube and a morphine pump, the tall boy was released into his family's capable hands.  Facebook friends already know that the Tall Boy Care Team consisted of the girl in charge (very bossy, so perfect for ensuring that the grueling walks around the happy little cul-de-sac took place as ordered); the sunny girl (a total night owl, so she was a companion on those long and sleepless nights when he couldn't get comfortable, so they watched zombie movies until 4:00 in the morning); and HER (she was a little frantic with worry all the way up in Boston, so she came back for the fall semester of school a few days early, so she could lay eyes on the tall boy, and help us get him moved into his dorm room).

The tall boy's current status is: shockingly good!  He has begun the fall semester at Catholic University, and although he's still moving slowly and is not yet quite up for a game of Frisbee, he's better and stronger every day!

2. (Or is it 7?) I told you about the awesome family vacation in lovely Nag's Head, North Carolina, back in June -- and I introduced you to the fabulous small boys (so stinkin' cute!).

But as is our family tradition, we also had a little car drama while we were at the beach.  And can I just say that I am all for tradition (I even know the words to the song!), but this particular family tradition blows.  This car crunch didn't even look that tragic from the outside of the car.  It did suck though -- trust me! SHE and the tall boy had gone on a Sonic run (their good deed for the day) and were t-boned at an intersection.  A vision I wish was not in my head is the sight of an ambulance and a stretcher, with my tall boy's tall legs dangling off the end.  Dreadful.

The crappy news is that my beautiful car -- purchased to replace the P.O.S. minivan that was stolen on a previous beach trip, if you can stand the irony -- was totaled.  The good news is that the tall boy and his lovely girlfriend came away relatively unscathed.

3.  ( Or perhaps 2.)  The girl in charge turned eighteen, y'all. 

Look how pretty and grown-up she is!  Aack!  My heart can't take much more of this.

* * * * *

OK, so a whole lot of other stuff happened this summer, but I've worn myself out re-living the traumatic shit.  So -- coming up in future posts: 

• The un-family reunion -- as fabulous as ever!
• The girl in charge goes to college!
• My sunny girl is a hipster.
• Moms' Week at the Beach should be a federally-enforced mandate:  

  "NO MOMS LEFT AT HOME!"

Yes, I'm back from the beach -- but I'm not happy about it.

So I went to the beach for two weeks in July, and I have spent the first part of August moping that I'm not still there.

The generous and loving husband sent me for a week with my besties (no dudes allowed).  Then he and the girl urchins met me, and we stayed for our cherished week with the beloved un-family.

Coming home from the beach means it's time to start getting ready for school.  Blecch.

Let's go back to the beach!

Introducing . . . the small boys!

 So we spent last week at the beach in wonderful Nag's Head, North Carolina.  This annual family get-together is a trip we look forward to for the entire year.  Sometimes we have a full contingent of cousins, aunts, grandfathers, uncles and grandmothers.  Other times a cousin or two has work obligations; last year the tall boy was unable to make the trip, but we were happy that the not-so-tall boy (the soldier's West Point pal) was able to take his place.  This year, although my sister's three oldest urchins all had obligations that kept them away, we were thrilled that SHE was able to be part of our shenanigans for at least part of the week.  Uncle Doctor does his best to stay out of the on-call rotation so he can join us (the nerve of some women!  Daring to go into labor while Uncle Doctor is trying to log jet ski hours!).  My fairy god-sister is always up for a week at the beach, and so are Carolyn and her husband the preacher.

And this year, the newest cousins joined us!  You've met the tall boys -- so now:  meet the small boys!  These pumpkin pies are my sister's new sons!  She and the preacher are in the process of adopting them, and how swell is that?!

 

 

Lucky small boys!  Lucky mom and dad!  Lucky family!

God is good!