RHODY LIFE

Just call us Felix and Oscar

Posted 1/6/21

It was a stressful holiday season so it was only fitting that Hubby and I should go away for a week to celebrate New Year's Eve in our tiny house in New Hampshire. Although I often complain that going there for an extended period of time is boring, on

This item is available in full to subscribers.

Please log in to continue

E-mail
Password
Log in
RHODY LIFE

Just call us Felix and Oscar

Posted

It was a stressful holiday season so it was only fitting that Hubby and I should go away for a week to celebrate New Year’s Eve in our tiny house in New Hampshire. Although I often complain that going there for an extended period of time is boring, on this occasion I welcomed the relaxation. With COVID around, there would be none of Hubby’s friends dropping by (in which case I would have to hastily run into the bedroom to put on a bra). It would be just the two of us.

It only took a day or two before I realized we were the quintessential Odd Couple. Hubby is very neat. His side of the couch was spotlessly clean with the exception of the five remote controls we need to finagle the Roku TV into a suitable show for us to watch. My side of the couch was, as often described by my mother, a disaster waiting to happen. My teacup from the morning sat almost empty on the table. Next to it were the remnants of my wine cooler from the night before, still containing ice in the purple Bubba cup. The plastic wrapping from crackers lay open on the table with crumbs spilling haphazardly about. Both my phone and my iPad were plugged into the charging port conveniently located on the arm of our new double recliner (purchased recently from Bob’s Discount Store). A pad and pen were nearby, carelessly tossed on the table among the other items. Yes, my side was messy and his side was clean, a hyperbole for our life together. Just call him Felix and me Oscar.

One day, when the four walls of the tiny house seemed to be closing in, we took a ride to Reny’s, “A Maine Adventure” (in reality a down home type of store that carried a little bit of everything). It had snowed about six inches that morning, but the roads were down to bare pavement. Driving along, I couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the day. The huge pine tree branches were covered in snow so heavy that they hung to the ground. The sun, streaming through the clouds, bounced off the snow on the lakes, highlighting the fishermen who were pulling their ice huts out to enjoy fishing in sub-zero temperatures.

Coming around the bend in the road, Shawney Peak came into view. This favorite ski area of ours looked so inviting with the sun beckoning. Ah, the memories of yesteryear returned. Ever the cautious skier, my snowplow technique would gently get me down the mountain, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Hubby would be up and down the mountain so fast he would pass me at least four times. Still, I smiled and carried on in the same stance as the toddlers on the bunny slope. Driving by on this day, from far away, the skiers looked like ants on a log as they came down the slope.

The views also reminded me of our snowmobile adventure on the trails nearby. Ever the cautious driver, I would struggle to get up to 10 miles per hour. So nervous, my hands would ache as they gripped the steering. This was not an activity that I particularly enjoyed. The trails were narrow, difficult for a single row of snowmobiles, and very scary for two-way traffic. The trees would whip by my face and I was thankful that a helmet and mask provided protection. Thankfully, Hubby was riding in the snowmobile in front of me, so if a big branch were to come along and knock a rider off, that would be him. Riders from the other direction would wave with a few fingers in what I thought was a friendly manner. One rider was so gracious that he waved with a full hand, as five more associates followed behind him. (I later learned they were not waving, but signaling how many riders were in their party.)

Suffice it to say that winter sports were not my forte. I quickly learned that my pleasure in shopping at Reny’s and the nearby factory outlets surpassed the lure of the more conventional, freezing sports. This woman also loved to spread her mess on the table next to the comfiest couch in the tiniest house in New Hampshire. Just call me Oscar.

Life Matters

Comments

No comments on this item Please log in to comment by clicking here