Tuesday, August 03, 2010

Let a side-whacker do his job.

I'm odd.

I know. No big shock to most of you. I don't hide from it or hide it from others. For the most part, my odd parts (well, personality wise, anyway - not physical oddities - my mom would die if I wrote about them here - or anywhere, really) are some of my favorite parts. I figure why blend, ya know?

Most of my odd parts of loud and embarassing to the hubs, which, let's be honest, is at least PART of the joy to be had in the odd parts. Don't tell him.

One of my odd parts that was brought to mind recently, however, is more quiet and under-the-radar. I really like to compliment people - especially in ways that I figure most people don't. 'Cause, face it, it kind of makes your day when someone compliments you in a way you were NOT expecting, doesn't it? It does for me. I figure why not do that to someone else.

Case in point:

I spent the day Saturday at White Water with my Crazy Aunt (and I mean crazy in the most affectionate way possible - after all, I embrace odd - why wouldn't I embrace crazy?), my Tooter Booter (aka - my "baby" cousin who is now 12 and taller than I am but still my Tooter Booter), and a pair of brothers who belong to Crazy's preacher.

I'll admit, when I first found out two tween/early teen boys were going to be tagging along (and knowing I was wearing my first non-skirted swimsuit in YEARS), I wasn't sure if I was happy or not. You never know how strange (in the "I don't know them" sense, not the "couple fries short" sense) teenage boys are going to react to an odd adult. I mean, will they appreciate the sarcasm? the squealing? the teasing? These things are important to me.

So here's how the conversations began:

"Now, you're not planning on RIDING anything today, right? I mean, you're gonna just sit in chairs with us outside the wave pool, right? 'Cause I'm not comfortable with you riding without us and we're too old to ride the rides."

"(not a beat skipped) YES, that's EXACTLY what we planned because we want to have FUN and we think sitting in chairs at a waterpark IS fun."

Ok, so maybe this is gonna be ok. He didn't roll his eyes at my stupid attempt at humor. He even played along.

That was the older brother though. The younger is still quiet, and he's younger. AND a boy. He MIGHT be tougher.

"Now, we're not sure if this raft holds 4 or 5 people. If it's 4, the four of US are going to ride together and we're gonna let you ride with those people behind us, ok?"

"Sure. I like riding with random people. And you'll probably scream too much anyway."

SCORE. I like these kids.

Then we got in line for the Tornado. It was NOT a short line. It was not a quick line. I'm pretty sure I missed a few days of work while waiting in this line. And there was puke. On the railing. And Tooter MIGHT have touched it. This line was NOT pretty. I was SURE we had lost these boys. All the sarcastic progress we'd made was going to be lost and they were going to go home talking about how lame I was. That is UNACCEPTABLE to me.

(I'll be honest, this blog is SO Ricki - the dad - that I am having the urge to erase it all so there's no proof of this ridiculousness I mock in him so regularly.)

We finally get our float, which is approximately the size of two Cadillacs stacked on top of each other and weighs approximately the same, and head to the line for the actual ride. (Yes, we waited in line for about an hour for a float, only to slowly climb the 400 flights of stairs to the top of the ride with said float while waiting in another line. The ride's pretty much amazing.) I knew immediately the little one was not lost.

"It would STINK if you got all the way up here and dropped your float over the side of the stairs and it fell all the way down there and you had to start all over again."


"I don't want that to happen to us. I'm gonna be the side-whacker." WHOMP! *He whacks the side of the float, just in case we hadn't gotten the meaning of side-whacker.*

(We walk up a few more flights of stairs, rolling the float along, drifting a little to one side of the stairs. He squeezes between the float and the railing and...)

"WHOMP! Hey, let a side-whacker do his job!"

(Seriously, this kid's 11. Hysterical.)

(Up a few more flights of stairs, pause on a landing where the metal handrail that has existed up to this point is no more...)

"Hey, I really liked that handrail. I need it. I miss it. Thanks ALOT, manuafacturers!!!"

I lost it. Seriously. ELEVEN.

These two boys were polite, helpful, and kept me hiding my giggles (some times more successfully than others) all day long.

I was in love.

(Seriously, Leslie, didn't you start off talking about complimenting people? You ramble like no one I've ever met.)

When I got home, I asked my aunt for some contact info for the boys' parents and immediately sent them each a note saying how MUCH I had enjoyed spending the day with their boys. I told them how polite and hysterical the boys were and that they should be very proud of what delightful children they were raising.

I'm sure when they first saw a message with the subject, "I'm Crazy's (ok, I put her real name in the message) neice," they thought, "Odd."

They're right.

I'm odd.

But I LIKE it. And I hope, at least THIS time, they liked it, too.

What ODD things do YOU do?

Love & Shipoopies,


Camily said...

Hilarious! They definitely sound like good boys with a good sense of humor! I love that they were funny with adults that they didn't know too well! And I LOVE that you wrote their parents a note. I would love to get a note like that some day!
By the way, I am jealous of your non-skirt-swim-suit! I am not quite there, but have lost 16 pounds on Weight Watchers so far. Next summer I will most definitely not have a skirt!

Leslie said...

Well, Camily, it's not that my thighs are intensely smaller than where I started or that the stretch marks on my upper thighs from baby-growing went away. (Sadly). It's more that I decided that I wasn't so bad that I couldn't go without a skirt. After a few comments from people one day when I was at my grandmother's and, thinking I wouldn't see anyone, grabbed the only suit clean - no skirt and then a trip to another water park where I saw a girl basically my size and weight distribution in a two-piece and although I didn't think, "Man, that girl's HOT," I also didn't think, "What was she THINKING wearing that?!?" She looked fine, and so I decided that if I could find the right suit, maybe I could too, so I went for it. It was more about gaining confidence and acceptance than loosing thighs (though I've lost a little and still hope to have lost more by next summer). :)

I will respond to your last email, btw. I have thoughts on the "for losers" comment and some other stuff. Haha!