Hubs Is 50 And All Washed Up

My husband recently celebrated his 50th birthday.

Actually, "celebrate" is not the appropriate word.  Foregoing any type of festivity, he fled to Florida to go diving with a younger woman.

My daughter didn't mind the trip.  She was anxious to utilize her scuba certification, and is gifted at making her dad feel young and invincible.

"Dad," she said, "remember your AARP card and your diuretic!"

I sent them off to swim with the sharks, and reminded the ol' guy, "You can run, but you cannot hide."

We planned a small family dinner for his return, complete with cake and candles to aid my husband in accepting the half-century mark he was trying to ignore.

Plus, 50 years of life deserves an exceptional gift.  I wanted to give him something meaningful, sentimental, yet useful.

I contemplated, "Underwear or squeegee?  Underwear or squeegee?"  Hmmm...

The squeegee won.

OK, it sounds lame.  But, I'm telling you, the guy needed a squeegee.

(Enter soft music and foggy memories).

Every spring I lose my husband to his favorite obsession, the power washer.

From April through August, anything or anyone stationary for more than three minutes is subject to a blast of water, delivered at a pressure high enough to remove paint from wicker furniture and fur from animals...or so I've heard.

The power washer, as I understand, is intended for high-performance cleaning, such as cars, boats, garden patios and decking.  It's used where normal cleaning is not enough to remove dirt from a surface, perhaps in cases of mold or algae buildup.

The Hubs, however, sets no such limitations on his little machine.  In his mind, everything is fair game for a round of spring cleaning.

Seriously, who power washes their tennis shoes?

Or, their mother-in-law?  In the hammock?

Groundhog holes and tree bark?

You get the picture.  It's pounds per square inch of industrial purification.

The kids and I are used to his love affair with technology.  What guy doesn't like his gadgets?  From cars to computers, power tools to telescopes, men love to be on the cutting edge.

We lived through the GPS phase.  Hubs desired direction to the mailbox and the next door neighbor's house.

We tolerated his laptop affair, allowing him to simultaneously watch television, send e-mail, and play Pathwords, all while spending quality time with the family.

But, the power washer addiction is one to be studied.  The worst part about my husband's infatuation is that, with his power washer purchase, he acquired a Hick-slang vocabulary.  Everything gets "warshed" instead of "washed."

He used to say things like, "I'm going to hose out the garage."

Now he instructs the kids, "Holla back at yo momma that I warshed the floor; It's slippry when it's wetted!"

Indeed, it is.  Which is precisely why my husband needed a squeegee.

So, there you have it.  Mr. Gadget turned 50 and got another gadget.  He seems happy, and best of all, busy.

If he ever complains he's out of things to power "warsh," I think I'll suggest he power wash his power washer.

A life with purpose surely keeps you young.

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