Saturday I watched my boys play football in the soaking rain. Needless to say, their white pants didn’t stay white for long. I wasn’t complaining though because we needed the rain and I had come prepared with a nice, big umbrella and a blanket which served as fairly sufficient buffer.
It worked best when my kids weren’t fighting over it and dragging it through the puddles of water beneath our feet.
But somehow it was enough to get us through 3 football games.
After the games, Drover decided we needed to swing by the home improvement store to pick up a couple of 5 gallon buckets of metal paint because paint is a vital part of sprucing up a ranch whose corner posts and gates haven’t been painted in decades.
If you don’t hear from me for a while, you’ll know why.
But I’m not going to worry about that right now, because what I have been worried about is my makeup situation. Ever since Drover thought Audrey Hepburn was 18 years old as opposed to 31 (which would be a year younger than me) in the movie, ‘The Unforgiven’, I took it personally and decided it must be my makeup holding me back.
Or not holding me back.
I’m not sure which.
Anyway, I started my Monday consulting with my mother who my sister-in-law says is like a drug dealer only with high-end cosmetics.
She not only knows every typically unattainable high-end product that is on the market, she probably has it. If not, she knows where to get it. I decided I needed to watch a few Carli Bybel tutorials as well, just to brush up on the latest application.
Once I had some idea of what I was going to need, I grabbed my list and headed out the door.
When I got in the car, I immediately smelled the stench of mildew and began searching for the culprit. I didn’t see anything suspicious in the front, nor did I find anything in the middle row and decided the carpet in the very back of my SUV must have gotten wet from Saturday’s game day gear and that I’d need to work in a trip to the car wash to clean it.
Living at the end of a 6 mile long gravel road, it’s not likely I will ever have a consistently sparkling clean exterior, but I do try to maintain a somewhat decent interior. The mildew smell would be tough one to get rid of. It’s a smell that I remembered all too well as my first car, which I drove until I was 18, didn’t have a working air conditioner and many times the rain would penetrate the car’s open windows, soaking the carpet floors and cloth seats. Many times, my work and college schedule didn’t allow time for immediate clean up.
Hence the consistently disappointing mildew smell.
All of a sudden I was feeling 18 again.
I wasn’t particularly liking it.
When I got to my Mom’s I popped the hatch to my SUV and passed out from the stench that appeared to be coming from the blanket that had been so good to me at the game. It was piled on top of the paint that Drover had bought after Saturday’s game. I had forgotten all about it along with my boys’ football gear which also appeared to be emitting a foul odor. That’s when I remembered that they had football pictures later in the afternoon.
Somewhere along the road to regaining the beauty of my youth at 18, I had managed to resume some of the carelessness I demonstrated at 18.
I wasn’t particularly liking that either.
I decided right then and there that I didn’t want to be my 18-year-old self again.
And while I wouldn’t mind looking 18 from time to time, I would have to be content with the fact that at least Drover knew me at 18. And at least my beauty at 18 was enough for him to marry me.
Which is probably the amount of time it will take for us to paint the ranch red.