Sunday, June 11, 2006


Yes, being at Julies and Harold's place a few New Years ago was a highlight. The food was great, the wine was greater and the weed was the greatest. The dart game posed a problem for me: "Uncle Don?". "yes Julie". "that projectile has to be thrown". "where?". "at that round thing on the wall". "really, my shoe laces look funny". "uncle don you don't have any shoes on". "I'm trying to find them"

"Julie who is that odd person over there who keeps staring at me?" "The christmas geranium". "really, wow, a trillion years ago plants were us". "Are you throwing that dart or what?". "Kev and Ger are really serious, which forehead should I aim at?". "Uncle Don, you have to aim at the bullseye". "not Jim?". "unlcle Don?" "yes Julie". "you are a weirdo". "thanks Julie"


No this isn't a pic of Colin and Jennifer coming across a fried egg on the Moyie River. Colin's life is much more odd. Tell me about it.

I think the Pickle has been officially retired now but once I bore the brunt of Colin having a driver's licence for one day: we get in the pickle and my head slams into the dashboard when he turned on the cd. Loud? And then as we are going six hundred miles per hour towards town I'm wondering to myself: hello, uncle Don, this won't be a boring time will it. Yay.
I was't too taken aback when Colin drove into the car wash. What can happen? This place is a den of normalcy. I'm okay here. I may get wet so big deal.

Unfortunately the pickle decided to die that day. I assumed Colin knew how to get it going so I wondered around and had a ciggy. "Uncle Don". "yes Colin have you got the pickle fixed yet?". "no, uncle don, we have to push it". "push it?". "Yes and Hal here is going to help you push the pickle". "Whom?". "Hal".

With only slight reservations I shook hands with Hal and got ready to push the pickle out of the car wash stall. It was downhill and so even to me the idea of pushing it sounded okay. Nineteen times me and Hal pushed the pickle while Colin steered (I won't even get into that). On the twentieth push (when boredom and exhaustion had set in) the pickle started! I wasn't prepared and so I got dragged along behind the pickle for 600 or 700 hundred yards because Colin wanted to ensure the pickle was getting the gas. Colin jumped lively and exuberantely out of the pickle (he hadn't done anything, of course he would) and noticed a trail of blood and then looked at me and asked: "Uncle Don, are you okay?". As I woozily got to my feet and brushed the blood off my knees and put the internal organs back where they belong I said: "not a prob Col, not a prob". So we get up to Kev's and I stagger to the couch and Anita and Kev asked in unison: "Don you look terrible, are you okay?". "I'm dying for gawds sakes but it was fun having a nice day with my favourite person, he's cute but deadly".