The Outsider: Snake shootin' and howling at the moon
|By Will Jones - The Outsider | June 29, 2017|
Now, Mrs. Mc’D and I are of a similar age, that being, how shall I put it, we are somewhere in the middle of our lives, and there are some folk for whom hitting this milestone would mean sitting back, slowing down and sliding somewhat meekly into their twilight years.
Not Mrs. Mc’D!
Nor her straight shootin’, designer shades wearing, hair blowing in the wind as they speed along in the rag-top mini, pals Peggy and Sue, who I met just last week. These ladies know how to party and they do it so well that I’m sure they make their teenage children utterly embarrassed and secretly proud in equal measure.
But that’s getting to the end of the story. Let’s step back to the start of the first afternoon (oh yes, they carried their party on for more than one day!). Arriving at lunchtime, and, as we found out later, being disappointed that they couldn’t skinny dip until after the contractors (me and my colleagues) left for the day, the ladies began
with a little afternoon sangria. They sipped as they chatted, as they flitted from swing seat to dock, stoop to boathouse, sunroom to beach, checking out the new cottage, catching up on gossip. Cigarettes dancing amidst painted fingernails, the ladies talked up a storm and peels of laughter rang out as we toiled building the new deck.
At four o’clock, we were informed that a beer awaited us on the beach. Armed with another sangria, this terrible trio poked and prodded at us poor hapless local ‘boys’ for their afternoon sport. We tried our best to give as good as we got but buoyed by their booze and blindsiding us with tales that swayed from birthing triplets to picking tobacco, paddle boarding whilst high and shooting rattle snakes, the ladies truly got the better of us. We finally escaped at mention of an oral fixation (I hope one of them was married to a dentist), leaving them chuckling into their sangria.
Now, I know that when I ‘tie one on’ – that’s what you Canadian folks call an all-day drinking session, right? I know that I’m good for nothing the next day. I’m hungover and grumpy, sour faced and sullen. And so it was with tippy toes and cloven hammers that we set to work on Mrs. Mc’D’s deck the next morning.
Not a sound, not a whisper came from the cottage until almost 10 but soon after, the girls were up and at it again. Caesars in hand, they told of dancing around the fire, skinny dipping in the moonlight, chatting with some moss called Pete, and ‘having a moment’, on a large boulder on the lake shore that is now named
And, as we worked, the ladies did it all over again. They glided past with a drink or snack, planning more moonlight escapades, more midnight madness, more willfully childish exploits that only the truly young at heart can appreciate. They partied while we worked and they partied well after we had gone. And we laughed as we drove away, knowing that these girls know how to live life to the fullest and that they could party us under the table any day.
Go Peggy, Sue and Mrs. Mc’D, too!
Embarrass your kids and fly the flag for those of us who should know better but almost never do.
WILL JONES - is The Outsider