It’s not like I was trying to be sneaky or anything.  It was early morning and I was at the car wash.  One of those places where you can feel the power of the spray wand in your hand, eager for the transformation to begin.  My car was filthy.  I was ready…. drum roll….to do something about it.

The fact is, I love to wash my car.  Especially in one of those do-it-yourself places.  Armed with lots of quarters  and my aged, acid-splattered, turquoise beach towel  (which I always use for polishing the whole thing into a  glowing, streak-free  finish)– the deed is usually done  in less than 15 minutes.  Mission accomplished. Squeaky clean and proud of it. 

Some days at the carwash, I play a game, timing myself against  the minute meter.  This is a carefully crafted skill, requiring a keen eye and intuitive sense of when to switch from one wash cycle to another.  If  the timer slips into 60 seconds or less–uh-oh, it is necessary to start all over again—-depositing a fresh fist full of  $2.00 in quarters. Otherwise, only one quarter at a time is required.  Now, because of my vast experience and agility, I know my total time per cycle  within 1.5 minutes of completion, thereby allowing the right number of quarters to be deposited from the get-go. What a relief from the tension of yesteryear. And, oh yes, the thrill of mastery takes a moment of silence to fully consider.  My record,with pre-wash, tire brush, super soap, regular rinse, plus the bonus spot-free rinse is 8 minutes, give or take.  Add another 5 or 6 minutes to vacuum the interior and I am home free.  Boom. Finito.

So, when I heard screeching brakes behind me as I blissfully sprayed and  played beat-the-clock with the minute  meter, I wondered if some crazed driver had missed the on-ramp to the freeway, located just across the street.  But no.  It was a horrified-looking friend, dressed in her Sunday best, running late for church.  When she saw me, she was so shocked, she stopped anyway.  A flash of Southern Baptist guilt rippled through me, as I realized who it was.  She was on her way to a spiritually uplifting period of worship as I was intensely focused on the cleansing of …..my hub caps.  Rolling  down the window,  she yelled, “What ARE you doing?”  “Washing my car,” I said.  “WHY?”, she asked.  “Because it was dirty,” I  replied.

Her chest went sort of concave as this moment of truth sank in.  So, there it was.  She was not prepared to believe her eyes and ears.  I am not the kind of person who drops on her hands and knees and gets dirty, doing anything—-much less one who would show up and wait for the dripping stalls full of dented pick-up trucks, roaring low-riders and slimey, silt covered,  bass boats to clear the way for my little Porsche to pull in—-or least that’s what she told me.  Her attitude indicated that maybe I should feel “busted” but I didn’t—-it just made me laugh.  I used to love to mow the yard, when we had one.  Now, that thrill is gone because we live in a townhouse with concrete courtyards and lots of pots.  I don’t do pots.  The refrigerator gets my attention though—-cleaning out all the strange life forms which can materialize there. I was checking for mold, way before anyone heard you could sue someone for this stuff.  Many a toilet brush has been worn out in my tenure as MS. Q-TIP.  I like transformation.  And, a fast transformation, now and then, can do a world of good for those of us struggling with the patience to stay with the transformative experiences that can take weeks, months or a lifetime. Cleaning, renovating, editing—are all short trips on that longer road.

But today also reminded me of several different nights, out with the girls, when we’ve  gotten into dicussions  about the things we love to do, when no one is looking— or when there is no agenda and we can just let ourselves BE.  I started thinking about those times with affection.  These are the moments when my friends became human to me—-the goofy stuff we like to do because we can, but rarely share with others.  It’s not that we are hiding anything but its just that it does not come up very often in the course of conversations or job interviews or enchiladas.

 One, loved to do laundry, late at night, when everyone else was asleep, while parked in the laundry room itself, reading and writing notes to friends and family.  She loved the sounds and smells and warmth and the feeling of doing something caring for her family, all at the same time. She flopped on the floor, on a bath mat and read the night away.

 Another liked to take her lunch hours at home, at least two days a week, so she could watch her favorite soap opera—-made all the more hysterical because she is an oral surgeon of some renown, here in Dallas.  Yes, she could Tivo the thing but this is just a ritual she likes to do for herself .  She has been  loyal to ALL MY CHILDREN since her college days.  A long-time friend has a pair of old, duct tape-around-the-nose-piece, Buddy Holly-ish glasses that he likes to wear on the weekends—he calls them his “comfy glasses”.  Everyone knows he is in his “Ahhhhh-Zone” when they are perched on his nose—reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. 

Another likes to cut the leg out of one side of her panty hose, when they get a run—saving them for the time when the opposite leg in another pair, gets a run too.  Then, she wears both tops, with one leg, each.  She swears that these two tops, together,  are better than Spanx, at holding in her tummy and……hey, she is saving money. She is not known for saving money on anything else.  It’s just her thing. 

Another likes to hose out her garage and spray off all the “gook” that’s collected on the driveway—it reminds her of happy times as a child, when she used to play “filling station” with her brothers back in Kansas.  (Apologies to you Whipper-Snappers—who would have no idea what I am referring to, on this one.)

Quirky.  Yep.  Endearing.  You bet.  When we can let ourselves do the thing that just comes to us from out of nowhere, no matter how eccentric they may seem to others—-it’s the beginning of  authenticity, of accepting ourselves just as we are.  And……sometimes, being human, is just plain fun.

What do you do when no one is looking?