Glimpses and Gaffes
Cheers to today, to the letter “G” and all that it represents!
I decided that to spice up some of the darker content that life with Al was so “heavily peppered with,” it would be remiss not to share some of the more lighthearted anecdotes and moments that existed in our life as well! Just as a yoyo moves up and down with the slightest movement of a hand or finger motion, and a rollercoaster can leave you feeling tremendous highs, right before you plummet downwards; our lives had more than one or two instances that highlighted the nuances of our personalities, the good, the bad, and often the laughable!
When Emily was an infant, Al traveled a lot; I’m talking about, five to six days, almost every other week… a lot! Thankfully, my older sister, her husband, and my nephews lived just a couple miles down the road, and because Rancho Cielo was so perfectly set up, inside and out, and absolutely lovely, (albeit a teensy bit lonely for just me and my sweet girl), it was also quite the entertaining mecca, so I loved having them all over…..the boys loved the enormous, multi-level pool, where you could be in the jacuzzi one minute, then a second later, drop down to the next level, and finally slide down to the third and lowest level; it was cool, at each level! The diving board, with the endless contests and challenges it inspired, was also a great way to keep three young, active boys entertained and engaged. Plus, all that pool time, gave us adults plenty of time to bounce, rock, dance and jiggle the hours away with colicky, baby Emily, all the while watching the boys being safely and busily engaged. The outdoor bar area was impeccably stocked, and the surrounding and expansive patios, with indoor/outdoor sound system kept us well-entertained to say the least...almost eliminating any need, whatsoever, to be inside at all on a beautiful summer evening. One lovely Friday, the Milli crew accepted my plea to come over for pizza, which was already ordered and had just been delivered. I knew the boys had been at soccer camp all week and a refreshing swim would be a welcome way to end the day. It wasn’t fifteen minutes later, the boys had already taken the first plunge into the pool, gaging whose splash had created the largest circle of rippling; the enormous, oversized, striped pool towels were stacked on the edge of the outdoor bar, and I had just poured Viv and I a glass of wine, while Bull (like the gentleman from the movie,Secretariat, fixed his cocktail of choice. As Emily happened to be (fingers crossed) asleep in her pram, under the lighted, wood overhang not more than six to eight feet away, the three of us sat around the outside, poolside table visiting, relaxing and recapping the events of the past week. It couldn’t have been ten minutes later that one of the boys, swam to the edge of the jacuzzi and asked when the pizza would be there: I was speechless for a moment, as I thought for a second; oops, I had completely forgotten it had been delivered before they all arrived, but I was so happy to have some adult company, I just put it out of my mind. It may have been out of my mind, but it had been INSIDE the oven (BOX AND ALL?) “staying warm?” No sooner did I get up to go check on it, when the world started spinning and seemed to all but EXPLODE! My cell phone was ringing, a cloud of thick smoke filled the kitchen and billowed out onto the patio as I opened the slider that led from the kitchen outside, and, wow…ALL OF A SUDDEN, four enormous figures, clad in neon yellow “Haz Mat” suits were running up the exterior stairway from the lower driveway where the service entrance led to the house. It was just moments before, when Viv, Bull and I had each commented on the sirens we heard, and remarked that they sounded awfully close…little did we know, Rancho Cielo and our pizza was their targeted location. By then, Emily was awake, and crying, Auntie Viv was immediately at her rescue; Bull was up in a flash and showing the four, YELLOW NEON firefighters inside the sliding glass door that led inside to that damn pizza w/ box, inside the blasted, pesky oven. I had told the boys to all stay on the steps in the shallow end of the pool on the lower level; that seemed like the safest choice for the time being! And, wouldn’t you know; who do you suppose was the voice on the other end of the phone that had been ringing repeatedly, over and over again? Yep, you guessed it… AL! Of all the people to whom I had to confess my “air-headed transgression?” But, of course…it made perfect sense, as he was the first number of record listed on the RSF Patrol’s emergency card. Al no sooner hung up, when two more of his New York partners called to make sure the building was still standing, and that there was no blood shed? That Emergency Card and the set of numbers it relayed, had probably seen its share of action before? Al’s past had a way of sticking with him, like that! The four “Neon Yellow” guys brought in three enormous air-blowing machines that they assured us would have the kitchen (plus the rest of the house) cleared out by morning, but did say we couldn’t be in the house in the meantime, particularly since I had an infant. The outrageous system they rigged up to suck the air out through the multiple sets of sliding glass doors, while sealing up any visible gaps that might leave an uncovered opening between the machines and the door jams was nothing short of miraculous. Thank heavens, too…otherwise, in addition the amends that I’d already be making, I was sure to receive more than a little humiliation and condescension from Al.
Some years later, we had moved to Santa Ynez and were living at Roblar, when Al realized his vision was not quite as sharp as it had always been. He had way since passed, using cheaters, and actually had prescription glasses, but (a bit like Mr. Magoo) he was constantly taking them on and off, leaving them everywhere, and his failing vision provided us with a few good chuckles on more than one occasion. One evening, I had gotten PJ down to bed, and Emily, Al and I had just finished dinner, when Al went back to the master bathroom to brush his teeth. All of a sudden, Emily and I heard horrifying shrieks coming from the master wing; we both took off from the kitchen, and headed down the limestone hallway to see what on earth could have happened? We got to the bathroom, and Al was standing there in front of the sink on his side of the bathroom in his usual “get-up” of navy sweats and grey sweatshirt; the problem, however, was not his outfit! The guilty culprit was now laying, both in, and next to the sink? Al was shouting at Emily to go get him a Diet Coke, or something, anything, and quick; his eyes were watering, and in between spitting into the sink and gulping water from the faucet straight from his hands, both Emily and I had to fight back bursts of laughter as we noticed the tube of “BEN GAY” laying next to his sink; all the while, the spit that was still spilling from his mouth was now an odd, frothy white! You’d think, that cautionary tale might have prompted a little more care with the handling of his glasses…NOT so! It was just a few weeks later when (this time mid-morning), following a slew of conference calls between Al, Augie, (the real estate lead of the Georgia Resort), Bubba 3, and Billy Ray, who were all “pow-wowing” about membership requirements and the pricing of lots in a new development the company was building on the North End of the island, (two of which Al was going to receive as part of a “compensation package”) I saw Al crossing from his office towards the house. He had designed the office/studio to be a mirror vision of the main house, positioned directly across the driveway, and joined by a trellised wooden structure, covered in ivy. It had turned out perfectly, and if you didn’t know differently, you might have assumed it had always been there. Not only did it blend beautifully with everything else on the hillside property, but it had provided the ideal space for the clear and magically-lit tent, that had been transformed into a stunning space for Al’s 60th Birthday Dinner. That was in the past though, and right now, AL was in a pretty stinking mood, as he entered the main house; he had been “feeling a sinus infection coming on for days” and was proving to earn his “stripes,” and well-deserved, status as a super-whiny and miserable patient. I’d already given him two, of his requested, Advil Severe Sinus, when I delivered his last cup of coffee, and it wasn’t time for more yet, so he just mumbled and grumbled as he walked through the house, and asked me to bring him a cold cloth with an ice pack, saying he was going to lay down for a bit before heading to Alisal for his afternoon round of tennis. Emily, PJ and I were just about to head out to run a couple errands, stop by the Roasted Bean for a smoothie and then on to the store to pick up some groceries for dinner, when we started out the door, but were stopped dead in our tracks! A blood-curdling scream was coming from the Master end of the house; “HOLY JESUS” he just kept screaming! We raced down the hall, and once again found Al in front of his sink, but this time with a clear liquid oozing from his eyes, nose and even his ears. “Good God, what happened,” I asked? This wasn’t anything like the BEN GAY on the toothbrush thing; there was liquid, literally, pouring from his face. (Confession…it was humorous); he reminded me of one of those fancy Italian fountains, with water erupting from every angle, but Al was so furious and still “leaking,” that none of the three of us said a thing, thought a thing, or even looked at one another; PJ couldn’t have been more than 3 or 4…but even at his young age, he knew the wrath that could erupt at any given moment and no matter your age, it couldn’t be disguised and no-one was immune! Al, then picked up, what turned out to be the culprit this time, a “FLONASE” inhaler and threw it across the room, exclaiming “what idiot had told him this would help?” Thankfully, it hadn’t been me; I covertly blessed myself, and told him I thought he might want to go lay back down and forget tennis for that day; it was summertime, so it was awfully warm out, and I asked if he thought he should risk having “an episode” on the Alisal court? For once, he agreed, and as soon as he had laid back down, Emily, PJ, and I left as quickly as possible and giggled all the way into town. Truly, the sight of liquid pouring from Al’s eyes, nose and ears had, indeed, proven a bit entertaining. I still have no idea, but would be really curious as to how he had misconstrued the directions on the “FLONASE” box to achieve that result?
With the last few “episodes” in mind, Al decided it might finally be time to get that cataract surgery that his doctor kept suggesting? It meant two separate procedures, as they only wanted to do one eye at a time. I always took him to those appointments, procedures etc… and this time was no exception. I sat in the very sterile waiting room, attempting small talk and trying to exchange pleasantries with the grim-faced blond behind the desk. We were the only people there at that wee hour of the morning, and I thought I ought to at least try to be friendly. She wore me down though, and her personality, reminiscent of a rock, eventually forced me to abandon my usual, self-challenge, to elicit even just the tiniest hint of a smile, or simple act of acknowledgement from seemingly unfazed people; but, no way, no how was that going to happen here, so I started digging through the months-old selection of magazines, stacked neatly on the corner coffee table. Not much time had elapsed, when Al was led out into the waiting room. The nurse tech gave me a couple sheets of post-op instructions; she said the procedure had gone well, and he should feel much better by the next morning. She also said not to hesitate to call with any questions. Al reached for my arm, and for a moment, I couldn’t shake the image of how small and fragile he appeared. He had worn the usual uniform of navy sweatpants, and a grey sweatshirt, with one of his ball caps, that could no longer hide the stain of tennis perspiration, no matter how much Woolite or scrubbing was done. Now, his uniform had been expanded to include the largest pair of wrap-around, black-lens, (?) “surgical” glasses that I had ever seen. I felt frightened for a moment; it seemed like along with the cataract, they had removed Al’s voice and any semblance of the person I had driven there that morning? Fear not, however…by the time, we arrived back home at Roblar, following the 30+ mile drive over the San Marcos Pass, Al’s voice was back; he spent the next several days, moaning, “this could be the big one, Elizabeth,” (reference to Sanford & Son TV show; now that’s showing some age), and being waited on hand and foot. Not only did he not play his usual twice daily tennis workouts, but he wouldn’t take calls for a couple days, and wore those darn glasses even in the house? Those were items not explained or itemized on the discharge sheets the nurse had given me. I wasn’t looking forward to Eye #2, at all. Nonetheless, Eye #2 came and went, with about the same level of drama, and the same fanfare.
Roblar saw a lot of action in those days; and Al wasn’t always the “butt of the joke” so to speak.
One year, shortly (maybe a week or so) after the normal Christmas melee, extended family was gone, and it was a beautiful, December evening, with a sky that sparkled with what had to be the twinkle of a thousands stars. Al’s eldest daughter had joined us for dinner, PJ was in bed, and Al and Emily decided it would be a perfect evening to count the stars from the jacuzzi, while Maren and I sat in the living room, listening to music and talking. We had always gotten on well, and there was never a shortage of topics we could cover; that night was no exception. Al had lit a fire earlier in the huge living room fireplace, but it was slowly dimming, and it wasn’t 10-15 minutes before Maren and I exchanged a knowing glance, and said yes, almost in perfect sync. It was about time to take the Christmas décor down anyways, and surely, the evergreen, fireplace Garland, that had started off several weeks ago being so perfectly green and fragrant, but was now drying, and losing its color and fragrance too, was ready to go? Carefully, Maren grabbed one end and I took the other; it was a large fireplace and so the long string of garland had to be at least eight feet long. Not sure which one of us suggested that maybe we should cut it, (at least), in half, which we did; so minutes later, I was moving the iron screen away from the front of the fireplace, and as Maren held the screen out of the way, I “tossed” the first half of dry Garlanding in to the deep, bricked space. HOLY JESUS…was once again the only, appropriate exclamation, as the once-dwindling fire reignited with a force that terrified both of us; flames escaped the fireplace and sparks, (actually a couple, very large embers) fell on the limestone step in front of the fireplace, as a huge blaze shot upwards and out of the chimney. I could hear Al from outside, yelling, “Oh Jesus they’ve lit the whole damn house on fire!” He was pretty irate, when he came inside and saw what we had done, and also noticed the black stain that had landed on the limestone. I was relieved, we hadn’t set the centuries-old, rare Oriental rug on fire, and I guess the faint smell that came from the slight singeing of eyebrows and arm hair, together with the black smoke on both our arms, was a small price to pay for that little “faux pas?” DEFINITELY NOT an experience I would EVER dare recreate, or care to experience, again! Quel cauchemard! (What a Nightmare! Thank you… my seven years of French!)
Today’s Takeaways……
*Never warm a pizza in the oven, when its STILL in the box!
*Always keep a pair of “cheaters” in EVERY room; you never know when a tube of “BEN GAY” will find its way into the drawer next to the toothpaste!
*I’d just stay away from “FLONASE” entirely; I legitimately have no clue how that could have happened!
*Dry, fireplace garland, while being a great accelerant, is also not to be spontaneously used, or without strict supervision! Potentially, I should be restricted from proximity to any type of fire altogether?
*Lastly, add to the list… my prohibition from piloting any vehicle that could be used to tow, pull, or in any other way be associated with moving a Steer Wrestling dummy; just ask 5-Time, World Champion Steer Wrestler, Luke Branquinho! And, he was so kind and gracious about the whole incident, too; I think it was a brand new truck?