Holy Mackerel

We went go-karting and mini-golfing Friday night, as part of a family fun event put on by Camp Quality. And it was lots of fun, and laughter, and all that good stuff. We even had hot dogs, chips and pop for dinner, which made the kids very happy. I wish I had brought my camera (when will I learn?) because there were some awesome moments to capture, like when Slut put on her go-karting helmet and her face got smushed, or when Dee was speeding around the track, or when one of the kids got stuck in a cart with his legs sticking up in the air (well, it wasn't really funny because he's blind and has cancer, but then, if you can't laugh at that, what can you laugh at?). I also missed a really nice sunset. Luckily, Em at least took a photo of Slut with her ill-fitted helmet, but she couldn't upload it to my computer, so I'm screwed. You're welcome. Meanwhile ... * Whereby I find out that using fake tan lotion is less than I expected, and yet again, so much more...

The excitement was almost unbearable. My heart palpitations were on the verge of causing a myocardial infarction. My breath came in short, rapid gasps, almost sending me into the throes of carbon dioxidosis. A fire truck came barrelling down our street on Sunday, right in front of our house, sirens blaring. And where there's a fire truck, there are firefighters. Need I say more? There were actually two fire trucks, and they stopped not too far from my house. Of course, I immediately thought, 'What a great way to start a Sunday!', and I wanted to get my boots on and run out there to see what I could do to help, because that's how I roll, especially when firefighters are involved. But I didn't. Instead, I perched in front of our big living room window and watched intently. The excitement, unfortunately, was short-lived. About five burly men jumped out of the trucks and ran toward a house on our side of the street. They disappeared into a house. And then, ...

The bowl of ice cream sits beside me. Frost lines the bowl. The spoon shifts as the mound begins to melt ever so slightly. I take a spoonful and let it rest on my tongue. The chocolate envelopes my every sense. My mind goes back in time. I am nine years old. It's summertime. The heat rises from the pavement in front of the house, waves of vibrating heat, so thick I'm sure I could touch it. The buzz of junebugs fills the air. I spend my days on my bike, or running through neighbour's yards, soaking in the sun's energy, so happy to be alive. I feel happy, healthy, and am able to forget about the sadness that rests inside my home. My father comes home from working a hard shift. His familiar smell as he walks in the door greets me. Sweat, oil, fatigue. He works hard. I check his pockets and pull out the slim box of gum he always seems to have. I feel like he keeps the gum there for me. Fruit-flavoured. My favourite. I take a couple of pieces, a special treat, and replace ...