TOO MUCH "T" IN TAHOE by Connie Jameson

I learned things on that vacation in Lake Tahoe with my husband, Tom, his college roommate,  Bob, and Bob’s son, Brett. I definitely learned there was a little too much “T” in Tahoe.  Not tea,  as in the kind you drink. Oh, no, we definitely did not sip tea from teacups. We used mugs for  coffee in the morning and mugs for beer in the afternoon. The “T” in Tahoe was testosterone.

     Loud, scary sounds came from the room below. Oh, no! That was Brett’s voice! What happened? I threw down my book and raced to the stairs. You see, I was the only female in the  condo, so I had to be mother, nurse, caregiver, nurturer.

      I rushed down the stairs, afraid of what I might see. Was he now unconscious? Would he be  lying in a pool of blood? Oh, that poor boy! Actually, Brett wasn’t really a boy.  He was thirty- some years old, 6 feet 4 inches tall, 240 pounds. But when my maternal instincts take over, any  suffering soul is my child. I was ready to cradle his body in my arms to give comfort.

      I looked down and saw his feet. His big, giant feet! There he was, standing on his big feet,  looking just fine, happy, excited. I glanced at the television and saw why. It was a Chicago Bears  (excuse me - Da Bears) football game. I guessed that explained loud, weird noises. I don’t watch  football, so I thought people just clap loudly for a touchdown or cheer, “Yay, good job, good  job,” but those scary sounds! Well, I guess that’s what guys do.

      It was Testosterone Television. One was a show about fixing up old motorcycles. They took  plain ol’ motorcycles and made them really special, all bright, shiny, clean (I liked that), then added  really wild paint jobs. It was hard for me to understand everything those heavily-tattooed guys  said. It was  ____(bleep), ____ (bleep), ____ (bleep). But I do love learning about new subjects  and now I knew all about bikes and choppers. I felt that TV special wasn’t so bad after all.  Only  problem, it wasn’t a special. The show came on television every day, and Brett watched it  every day.

      Another show was Dirty Jobs, all about people going down in sewers, scraping animal  carcasses off roads, and crawling around in attics looking for rats or under houses looking for  termites. Ugh! Yuck! Who could watch that? Well, those guys could . . . and did.

      For breakfast, the guys had thick slabs of bacon, bacon, bacon. Meals were a carnivore’s  delight.  (No quiche for those real men.) One evening, we went out to a pizza place that had been  recommended. One look at the menu and I saw why. Wow! Such unique toppings — artichokes,  sun-dried tomatoes, spinach, chicken, broccoli. I excitedly showed those choices to Tom, but he  ignored me. The guys all agreed the Special Combo sounded like a good idea. I imagined a  combination pizza with old favorites like pepperoni on one side and some exciting new choices  to try on the other side. No, the Special Combo was a combination of pepperoni, sausage, ham,  beef, bacon—lard!

      I must admit the trip was quite fun and relaxing, except for that uneasy feeling there could be  a terrible fight in our own living room. The potential source of a testosterone-triggered, territorial  turmoil lay there on the coffee table. Yes, I had good reason to be frightened. I knew how much  my husband treasured his TV remote. If Bob and Brett felt just as strongly—oh, what I  envisioned. I remember watching nature channels showing those terrible battles between bighorn  sheep. Two beasts rush towards each other, heads down, their giant horns crashing together with  thunderous sounds. That’s just two bighorn sheep fighting over a female. Imagine three grown  men battling over the TV remote! Thank heavens, it never happened.

      Even with all that football frenzy, motorcycle mania, and carnivorous cuisine, I had fun. In  fact, I’m still having fun, just thinking about having Bob and Brett visit. I’ll just Energize my E  (E for Estrogen) and serve the guys some nice fluffy soufflés while we watch Martha Stewart  and Oprah on television. (The remote would be hidden.)  Imagine the looks on their faces when  served My Special Combo!