Pith-less In The Northern Rockies

*** continued from previous post ***


It was then that we made another discovery. A wonderful marvelous discovery. We found that the absolutely, positively, money-back guaranteed water-proof bag - the Fort Knox of luggage - and in which we had stored our clothes and then lashed to the outside of the trunk without a care in the world - because we are from THE STATES and are consumer lemmings that believe every piece of advertising known to man - wasn't so water-proof after all. Or, it would seem, even water resistant. Point of fact, it was rather water-attractable. Water laden would an accurate description. A more appropriate marketing slogan might have been, "The Big Blue Waterproof Bag! Now 50% More Spongelike!".

As we unpacked, I tried to cheer up your mom. "Let's look on the bright side. The clothes in the middle are hardly damp at all!"

Your Mother turned to me slowly. So slowly, that the deliberateness of the gesture made my stomach turn. She grabbed both of my hands in hers, brought them close and kissed them gently. She looked me deeply in the eyes with a soul-penetrating gaze and said, "I love you. You know that. But if you open your mouth one more time before I'm warm and dry I will punch you right in the throat."

Now here's the deal, and you know exactly what I'm talking about because you struggle with the same thing - a million inappropriate thoughts raced through my mind, begging to be given voice. I couldn't help it. You know the Moore's motto: "There is absolutely no situation that can't be made more awkward, more uncomfortable, or more hostile by a well placed smart-assed remark."

Seriously, I'm absolutely pathological. However, in this situation - and you would have been so proud - I actually edited myself. I know! It's amazing! Cigars all around!

As gently as I could I say, "Go take a nice warm shower babe. I'll hang these clothes up to dry." I was going to give her a hug, but that would leave various body parts vulnerable. A business-like pat on the shoulder seemed safer.

Your mom's eyes narrowed. Having spent over 30 years with me, she had a right to be suspicious. "What, no pithy comment?"

"The pith has been leeched out of my bones. I am pith-less. Pith-less in the Northern Rockies,"

I said, then caught myself before I went on a riff and woke up dead with my larynx crushed by a little tiny wet woman in leather and boots.

*** the journey continues ***