Adventures with Geannii

A full week has passed since I went out on the boat covered in sunscreen everywhere except my arms — the arms that never burn. Maybe it’s been two weeks. Who’s counting. I’ve been dealing with Hell’s Itch. My left arm — bless it — reminded me of my poor decision making. It throbbed with the kind of heat that makes a person reconsider every sin they’ve ever committed, including the ones they enjoyed. My arm is so sunburned. I resemble a lobster. (If you want to see the exact moment I became a human lobster, Read the Sixteen Catfish Story Here ). I do not want a repeat of this level of sunburn ever again. Famous last words. I was peacefully debating whether to convert my bathroom 3‑tier cart into a smashbook cart — a noble, domestic decision — when suddenly I was yanked into a full‑blown lake adventure. One minute I’m thinking about washi tape storage, the next I’m on a pontoon boat. Again. This time, I was literally swimming in sunscreen. I wore the white long‑sleeved shirt. I had my...

   Cousin Marvin called. “We’re going out on the boat, we’re leaving in an hour.” Last time I was on a boat like this, it cost us $200 each. We were freezing, the fish were onto us — like, “Yeah, we know this game, try harder.” They ignored our bait, the guide kept chasing imaginary fish, and finally Van said, “I’ll give you an extra twenty bucks to just take us to our truck.” So when Marvin said we were taking the boat out, I said, “I’ll be there!” An hour! I was absolutely not ready, but I lied with confidence. Snacks… none. Soda? Only diet root beer. Me and artificial sweetener on a boat with no bathroom in sight? Absolutely not. I will not touch her diet soda. I will spare us all.   I started packing my Samsonite backpack. It looked waterproof. Was it? Who cares. We gamble. White shirt, bold choice for someone who spills everything. Good choice to prevent sunburn. Note to self: you must wear the shirt! Water shoes, classy. Hey I’m on a boat! Sunscreen 50 SPF. “I ...

The Cat Hair Intervention  We’re walking into the Cap'n Chaos concert and Brandy noticed Cat hair all over the back of my black slacks. Cat hair. Everywhere.   I  look like I rolled down a hill made of long haired Persians. Rob: “Did you sit on the cat’s couch?” (Important note: the cat has its own couch. Of course it does.) Me “NO.” Rob, already committed to the mission: “Brandy Brush off your mom’s butt.” Brandy: “I’m not brushing off my mom’s butt.” Rob: “Really? You think it would be more appropriate for Sir WhatTheHeck or ME to brush your mom’s butt?”   At this point, the entire family is standing in a circle debating who should de fur my backside like it’s a sacred ritual.   “Someone just brush off my butt — I don’t care who does it.” This is where the wheels come off, roll into traffic, and cause a five car pileup of laughter. Inspector Clouseau Makes an Appearance Brandy: “I left my phone at home. With our tickets.” So back we go.   They get ba...

 I had to set my coffee down for this next one because I was laughing so hard I almost baptized my keyboard. Educational Materials I Was Not Emotionally Prepared For They gave Sir WhatTheHeck a 'birds and the bees' crash course that none of us will ever recover from. Sir WhatTheHeck (18, dramatic, exhausted): “They made me watch stick figures doing it.” Me : “WHAT IN THE WHAT?”  Sir WhatTheHeck: I was ten, not yesterday.  That did not help! Rob, calm as a man who has seen things: “Well… he was looking at inappropriate pictures online. So if he’s curious, we showed him how humans are formed until they’re born.” Sir WhatTheHeck: “I’ll be scarred for life.” Me: “Wait… they have stick figure cartoons doing THAT? Who makes that?!” Rob: “It’s from Sweden. It’s educational. Not stick figures. A cartoon he could understand.” Me: “Well now I’m scarred for life.” Sir WhatTheHeck thought he was about to get in trouble. Instead, he got a scientific documentary he did NOT ask for. I t...

Visiting My Grandsons  This was all in just one day. I had to keep notes in my phone. The trauma I mean drama was happening so fast. The Shopping Split-Up (Victoria’s Secret / LEGO Escape)   Brandy wanted a new bra — not just any bra, but a statement piece. The moment we turned toward Victoria’s Secret, Rob and Sir WhatTheHeck peeled off like they were avoiding a crime scene and vanished into the LEGO store. They didn’t even pretend to hesitate. They were GONE.    Inside, Brandy found the bra — a beautiful pink one with wide, glittery straps. It won't be a bra strap showing, it will look intentional. Mother approved. Rob nearly choked at the sticker price, .but he said she works hard for her money, so she should get what she wants    The Adults Should Not Be Trusted With Books Segment Later at home, Rob brought out a little very adult puppet book about a male anatomy and its many adventures. The boys were embarrassed as mom began reading this book. We wer...

 Every now and then, life hands you a moment that makes you stop, blink twice, and ask yourself, “Is this really happening, or did I accidentally wander into a sitcom?” This week, that moment arrived in the form of a Facebook friend request. From: John (names changed I don’t really want to be on Judge Judy, she’s vicious.) Yes — that John. John, who I haven’t spoken to in… well, let’s just say “decades” and leave it at that. I accepted the request because I’m polite and occasionally curious. Within seconds — not minutes, not hours — seconds, I got: “Hey how are you doing today.” Which is exactly the tone scammers use when they’re pretending to be a Nigerian prince or your long lost cousin who suddenly needs Apple gift cards. I ignored it. Then came: “I am doing good and you.” At this point, I was 90% sure this was not a real human man but a bot wearing John’s face like a Halloween mask. But no — it was him. And that’s when the conversation took a turn into… Let’s call it “unexpecte...

  Good Grief It’s a Bow Uncle Ronnie gave Dad a bow set — bow, quiver, arm guard, the whole works. Dad was so proud you’d think he’d been knighted. He took that bow out and showed everyone. If the mailman had lingered too long, he’d have seen it too. Uncle Ronnie was serious about bow hunting. It was his passion. (He was later accidently killed while hunting — the thing he loved most besides his family.) That bow set wasn’t just sporting equipment. It was a piece of him. Then one day… it was gone. Not the guns. Not the ammo. Not the jewelry. Just the bow set.  Dad always believed someone in the family had taken it, he was heartbroken.  He looked like someone had stolen his dog, his truck, and his last slice of pie all at once. Fast-forward to my senior year. I took an Arts and Crafts class — which was a mistake, because we were pouring ceramics and our greenware kept cracking like we were running a pottery graveyard. I knew exactly why: we left it in the mold overnight. B...