Bro Ronnie uses a certain expression constantly. In response to my queries of "How's everything going,
Ron?" he'll often respond, "Just peachy!" Now, the image of juicy, ripe peaches would normally connote a positive; agreed? Just look at this sunny display we came across during our travels. North Carolina fruit is now perfuming our beach-house kitchen.
Who could resist?!
In Ronnie's case, the phrase is often used with sarcasm, indicating one crisis or another... sort of the tone Joe adopted just minutes after setting foot on the sand, yesterday.
With my camera in hand, he almost went down, emitting a rather high-pitched shriek, as his leg crumbled. We've determined the nasty bite, shooting pains and resulting limp to be the fault of a jellyfish. Miraculously, neither of us has been bitten before. However, we're now quite educated about (link) nematocysts. Had anyone asked Joe, "How's it goin'? at about 1:30 p.m. Saturday, his response might have been, "Just peachy!" NOT! Thank Goodness the camera survived a potential dunking in the sand.
Now, there is another related anecdote here. Joe, like my Dad, detests being barefoot... anywhere. He actually dons sneakers to cross carpeting, no matter the minimal distance he must travel. His sixty-something feet are pristine... pink and soft, like a baby's bottom. I'm always mentioning that G-d intended feet to be tools, pointing out my own rough-'n'-ready appendages that know Barefoot Heaven well. My Gran began suggesting about forty years ago, "Honey, you have to put something on your feet, or you'll end up with arthritis, when you're my age."
Back to Joe: yesterday's was a rare barefoot venture across sand. Ah, woe is me; today, he'll have those dorky sneakers back on his tender feet, regardless of nature's gift.
Postscript: It's Sunday, and My Hero is much better... thought he's milking it for sympathy. ♡
