Depending on where you live you are either in the throes of spring springing upon us or at least on the foreseeable horizon. Even if you are buried this morning under a new blanket of lofty white snow, there is still that feeling in the air that mud season is just around the corner. Lovely.
There are signs of it everywhere from the nurseries displaying flowers, potting soil and manure in copious amounts. Or is that last one Congress? Well, whatever it is there is enough of it out there to sink a nation for sure.
This past week also found countless colleges beginning their notorious Spring Break and thousands of kids flocked to the beaches to partake in their annual party hardy tradition paid for by parents and student loans. Throngs of them wearing thongs have gathered across the Southern shores and it's a sight to behold.
This past week here in the South also meant a return to outdoor soccer for Granddaughter #2. Miss Trixie and Ol’ Dutch lined up on the sideline and watched those little buggers kick one another and even the ball once in a while. It was a nice day and soccer being what it is, Ol’ Dutch had plenty of time to watch which is always better than any event you may attend, including church.
The first thing I noticed was just how many young parents were there with their expensive pneumatic cylinder lawn chairs carrying coolers large enough for an Arctic expedition. As the games only last about 45 minutes and having gotten there an hour early due to Miss Trixie’s misinformation, Ol’ Dutch got to watch the changing of the guard over three games.
They came to the parking lot driving SUVs of every make and color, all of which just screamed “payments.” Trucks jacked up to dizzying heights for traversing Dallas potholes were attempting to fit their massive girth into parking spots created for sedans. Stretchy pants seemed to be the norm for the moms and even the grandmas, which was a far cry from the moo-moo wearing matriarchs of days past. Some of the stretchy pants were also trying to contain some sizable girths without bursting at the seams. A tribute for sure to nylon and maybe Raytheon space research.
The fathers of the little soccer neophytes had on blue jeans and a crumpled shirt mainly which meant that they had caught their bride long enough ago that now they just wear whatever is on the top of the pile. No need to impress this woman any longer and she, on the other hand, is just glad that they show up at the right times for any event.
All this activity and parading of parents got Ol’ Dutch to thinking — a dangerous proposition according to Miss Trixie — about what it all took to get them to this point on this day in time. How many dates with how many people did they all have to go on to finally settle on the person they will be stuck with for life? And what must that have cost? The numbers have to be too large to even imagine.
Then there is the lead up to the wedding with all the expenses involved, meeting all the relatives and for the men, acting like they care. Now there is a skill that is long undervalued.
Then you have the wedding itself and following honeymoon, rents to pay and finally the looking at houses pain and suffering period whereby the wives drag each husband around Saturday after Saturday looking at the “perfect” house for them to buy. She knows that if she does this enough that he will finally acquiesce and buy one just to get his Saturday morning fishing, hunting, golf or sleeping back on the schedule. Her challenge is to hold off on the house she really wants until she knows he is about to break.
For wives of fishermen in the South, this will coincide with the budding of the Redbud trees as that signals the start of the fishing bite and he is never more vulnerable to do her bidding as on that day. Realtors should also take note of this phenomena and plan on record sales on those days.
So here we sat with hundreds of little tax deductions running all over hell’s half acre and parents sitting there wondering just how they got into this mess in such a short time.
Ol’ Dutch can recall those days and how it all sounded so good at the time, but little did he know that marriage for women means a house and nest but for most men they pretty much think it means sex. You get enough house and nesting going on and bed playtime pretty much disappears as the female partner is too tired to canoodle any more.
Wherever you may abide this week know that Spring is just around the proverbial corner and will soon come gushing over you like a newborn puking milk. Enjoy the days as they come and maybe canoodle with your sweetie just once more for old times’ sake.