Wild Woelk Women Weekend

The place is San Diego. 

The Event is Wild Woelk Women Weekend.

The participants are as follows:

1. Trish Woelk.  Matriarch of the family.  Over 60 years old.  Ditzy, daffy, very slightly insane, and wonderful.  Forgetful. Short.  Can’t play tennis anymore.
2. Ashlei Crow Woelk.  Wife to Sam Woelk—that’s how she got into the family.  Kind, Compassionate, calm.  Makes a good friend.  Decent at tennis.
3. Christian Woelk Zaal.  Daughter of Trish.  Smart, driven, high energy, new mother.  Corrupts her nieces whenever she gets the chance.  Tennis skills unknown. 
4. Carrie Finch Woelk. Wife to Leland Woelk.  Pregnant; therefore hormonal, emotionally unstable, and changing shape.  When not pregnant, very friendly and pleasant.  Full of patience and goodwill.  Supremely likeable.  Tennis skills doubtful.

Wild Woelk Women Weekend sounds, of course, like a time of revelry, debauchery, drunkenness, late night parties that involve men dancing while not wearing all the required pieces of clothing. . . the sort of event that might end up in tattoos and jail sentences.  However, I think that it more involves going to restaurants and fingernail painting salons and lots of conversations that are boring for anybody that’s not a woman.  Shopping for shoes.  Laughing uproariously while making snide and inaccurate commentary about the general futility of menfolk. 

I have to say, living here in Springfield MO, that San Diego is a proper place for this event, about 17 states away from me.  Ashlei will return, disheveled and confused, and I’ll whip her back into shape in just a few days.

I suppose it’s like cheap therapy.    

However, my main concern is that it’s taking place at John Zaal’s house.  John is, of course, married to Christian, and I don’t know how easily he will be able to get away from all the fountains of estrogen that are undoubtedly going to slosh all over his house. 

John is a Marine, which means that he’s trained to meet the enemy, to be courageous, to defend one’s homeland against bad and evil people.  John is a tough dude.  Bad people can shoot at him, and he feels no fear.  Bad people can shoot at him and not miss, and he feels no pain.  John can drive tanks and helicopters and he can shoot 50 caliber rifles that cause bad guys to just disappear in a puff of red. 

And yet Wild Woelk Women Weekend is causing him to stress.  Yesterday, he sent me this email message:

Sam,

There are a lot of women in my house right now. Jack is not used to the commotion and wanted some advice on what to do as the only male in your household.

Semper Fidelis,

John

Of course, as a Marine (HooYa!) John cannot admit to being terrified by the ocean of estrogen.  He feels the need to pretend that he is worried about his son. 

But the terror is peeping out of this email message, and so I offer this advice: 

Run away.  Find a more peaceful and safe place for an American male, like inside an active volcano.  Don’t worry about your son: he’s young and he won’t be permanently scarred.  Little boys have an amazing ability to heal themselves from trauma.  But you, sir, are in grave danger. 

Do not attempt to reason with the women.  Do not attempt to have sexual relations with the one who is your wife.  Do not attempt to be conciliatory.  Do not attempt to offer help or assistance when the women get confused by bright lights or loud noises.  Do not attempt to understand their actions or motivations.  Do not attempt to even be in the same room with them.  The fact that one of them is pregnant puts you in grave danger.  Some groupings of females in other species will gang together in order to tear a male limb from limb to protect the spawn.  Two of them have spawn, right there, John!  Get out, before your arms are ripped off!