dogs.
i know ive mentioned dogs before, and how im dog people, grew up with them lots of them. they are for the most part better people than most people and i know i miss the ones who are gone just as much as the people who are gone certainly cried over as many dead dogs as people
when we were just puppies my brother and i would curl up with a rotwieler bitch named brita and scratch her behind the ear so she would scratch our backs. her and a lab sheperd mutt named snert and a pitbull named piglet were our pack then on johnstreet where dad tattooed and mom sold pot and people wore sandals and played frisbee.
piglet ended up bitting me when i was 6 and getting shot in the bathroom after being beaten half to death and chased home by dad. half naked. i was lucky and unhurt.
brita gave birth to a litter of mutts through another dog incident with a neighbors sheperd that bit dad and died for it. of the litter only 2 survived past 2 months the others were sickly and one by one left us.katie was sold to a close friend of te family who i would eventually end up welding for when i first left college.
we kept gaffer and grew through our teens with him. his mom and my mom didnt like each other though. brita bit mom one day in the garden and mom bit her back/ she never bit anyone ever again. brita stole strawberries just before they were ripe
we sold her and got a little pitbull named daisy who was a sweetheart and had her bred with a papered male and of the first litter kept the two largest males bowser and bethoven.
this was a funny time as we had moved to saltspring by now and had several other animals 2 or 3 goats a cat a couple snakes sometimes the morning walk to the bus stop was a lot like a petting zoo with even the peacocks following.
bowser and bethoven where brothers like oil and water bowser was black and smart and bethoven was blond and dumb. baby liked to scrap dogs and was not really good at it. bowser didnt but was. bowser was a people reader and every person he didnt like turned out to be not likable...mostly dads idiot friends too which was funny. all three liked beer bowser would nip an unopened can and lick till it stopped foaming then nip it again, beathoven would bit the can then shake and bite till it quite moving and gaffer would knock over open cans sneaky like while he was sober then openly when hed had a few as well as get growly and stumbly.
when he was a puppie he ate a gram of hash and slept for three days and would eat roaches steadily. he got really drunk on whisky at a party when he was getting older and quit drinking for many years but still ate pot bowser died on a hot summer day while we were at the lake he choked on a rock he had been chewing on which was strange because he was usually the smart one he was my dog and the first one i really really missed.
i saw him bite a beer bottle once carefully and put 2 perfect holes in the sideof it. his brother became our best friend along with gaffer who had been with us since we where small
of course he was getting old looked like he may die soon but mom switched his diet to oatmeal and eggs and veggies and weed and he was walking and better within 6 months and ended up living many years more he died while i was away at school and his sister katie also died that year when i left and went to work for her people in sidney i think they were around 15 years old then.
tears where shed by many people friends and family who had grown up with him cameron gave mom a beautiful black and white photo he took once on a visit blown up and framed and it still hangs in her cabin. daisy was gone and beeathoven had sired pups who we kept two of. oggie my doggy and moe, moewas brindle and og was blonde and big like his dad and just like his dad grew the first couple weeks in my shirt front pocket till he didnt fit anymore he lived in vic with me and michelle and then was sold by dad when i moved to dawson creek after we split up
i think hes still alive in cobble hill somewhere and if i see him i know he'll know me still.
moe was moms dog and she ended up getting a celtic knot of dogs round her wrist one brindle and one blonde. we also had a staffordshire terrier like margo named spot that we got right after bowser left. spot had been abused and was very headshy but also very loving and attention seeking it made him barky if he was on his line and knew there was someone home hes the one that i shot up on the hill over the pond and cried for years sfter over.
when i came up here i went with chris and elaina to pick up snoop doggy dog a mastiff that elaina still has hes old and tired now and cant play as hard as abby but he still knows who he grew up with and i guess thats where im going with this story they are all people we have know and loved we teach them and they teach us. if/when we should get a dog id like to cast my vote for a terrier like margo and spot they are a smart tough energetic breed. and super good people to be around. like people when they are gone its important to remember the times they made you smile and the things they taught you that way they can live forever.
this was really really hard to write and i cried a couple times like right now especially but i wanted you to know youve got dog people who know whats up and feel the same way.
smooshie sends his love
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
It all started in the mountains.
Me and Jarret both love being off the beaten path. Summer 08 he says to me "Hey, you want to go climb bulley?"
I guess its a mountain right away but have to ask for details. Turns out its the highest peak in our local maintain ranges and not that far away.
Sitting at 8800 feet and about a 100 km. south of Tumbler ridge on the also south and east of Monkman park, a provincial park that was the site of my first good adventure with jarrett sometime round 1996. An area I can relate to for sure.
"Of course!" is the only smart answer so i say just that. And the planning begins, we research routes, find a book on the local mountaineering by a local, and start making gear lists.
We cut a bunch of pitons out of one of our old sawblades from jarretts sawmill, started looking at the available mountaineering hammers and decided to buy roofing hatchets instead. then carve them down to the right profile.
All the stuff that needs doing and then some without actually even knowing what form our adventure will take
Finally in the fall our plans are finalized the truck is packed and we both cut our hair and headed out. his mohawk suits him but the twin hawk i cut just feels ridiculous on me, to distract i tie a canadian flag cape on and start rolling.
Our approach takes us to tumbler an hour away to the west. about 100 kms. the next 70 to the south on bulley creek forest service road takes 2 full hours and carries us steadily uphill. By the time we reach the end of the road, or at least where the logging road was deactivated we are within 40km. of the great divide, or high point where the watersheds change dirrection. our side flows north and east to hudsons bay and the north atlantic while the other flows west to the pacific.
A boulder marks the end of the road and on the other side a creek with no bridge any more, thats what deactivated means i guess. Every culvert and bridge pulled and erosion bars dug into steep hillsides, Bulley peak rising in front of us to the south, and cloads gathering. we shoulder our packs, grin, burn one. and head out.
The first 10 kms. are on this dead logging road weaving thru replanted leases carving up the sides of the valley, we pass piles of waste wood with trees in them 60 feet long looking for all the world like jumbled piles of straws.
Enough wood to keep or mill cutting for weeks.
The gathering cloads bring some rain and we can hear lightning booming down the valley behind us. with bulley looming over head and a stream crossing the road at a high point on the valley side we decide to set up camp and call it an early night.
camp consists of a tarp and our bag setups so it takes no time and once we have fire and food in us the storm hits in earnest. Darkness falls early and we retire to our sacks under our tarp inbetween 2 logs pulling ourselves p topside to watch the lightning and burn one we hoot and holler into the storm till one bolt hits close enough to blind and deafen us. humility and the safety of our tarp call us to bed.
the next day we push to the end of the logging site round the southeast side of the mountain then we turn west and follow the creek up the valley behind the mountain. eventually after much heanous bushwacking we reach the head of the valley.
Glacial moraine and thin stunted trees, a massive headwall cut with an equally masive waterfall up the middle and a thin trickle just left of it has us talking about future ice climbs out here while the lack of fuel forces us to follow the stream back down the valley till we can gather enough wood to cook with.
Round a corner into a sheltered mini valley that looks suprisingly homey for the middle of nowhere, A massive grizzly doing his thing on the other side of the creek! We thought of this of course but the whistles we bought just seem to get him curious. "Jarret find the dam bear banger man." hes fumbling and saying how hes trying dammit.
"Fooosh. BANG!" and griz is tails and gone. That was suuper scary and the signs all point to this being his home not ours. rocks over turned claw marks way up in trees. Poop all over. Eek! we had been roaring and joking about being bears mainly because of the local radio station that claims to be a bear but now.... not so funny. ROOOOAR! im not a bear at all.
So thats where we set up! made a big fire and shot of a couple more bangers then started looking at the walls. We came to climb and right now it seems safer up there. tommorow we go up there! excited much and kinda nervous we make camp again and begin seriously looking for our line. a walk up to the falls after a dinner of spaghetti with jarrets homemade sauce that he dehydrated for the trip and we begin to form a plan.
We intend to climb between the glacier and the mountain peak through the saddle and from there decide which summit to go for or if neither we can beeline up the valley on the other side of bulley.
Dawn in the mountains is capable of the most amazing light show and we roll out just in time for a doozy. breakfast of goatmeal and instant coffee. we decide to pack up and pull out completly. we plan to climb up to the right of the glacier on a steep crackline that cuts the headwall. it looks from the bottom to be about a 100 metres of climbing maybe 3 or 4 pitches. then traverse further right and come up from there round the side of the glacier.
The aproach is steep as hell, 65 maybe 70 degrees of heavily vegged talus and takes over an hour by the time we get under our line we are beginning to doubt our sanity. i win the rock paper scissor off and take first lead. Pack off harness and rack on away i go. as soon as i step around the corner into the cleft i remember that adventure can have a dirty side. mossy and dirty. my new hammer comes in handy right away as i use it to scrape away the moss and dig out the crack enough to find that its way to thin to put a clean piece in.
bing bing BINGBING, PING ping ping higher and higher pitched the ring of cold steel into the rock as i pound my first piton with my first hammer in real fear. "dude, your only 20 feet in?" jarret is around a corner from me and seriously questioning my sanity. "you'll see" i mutter "clipping. and climbing." not so bad now that ive got a piece pounded that i could drop a truck on under me and the crack opens up enough to get fingers and clean protection into.
Even though jarrettt is only 10 feet away beside me round the corner its a long way down under me allready and a fall that far two days walk from the truck....2 days for healthy not crippled people...Its a serious game we play but as i climb it seems to get easier. cleaner for sure, i finally hear the half rope call and build my anchor. silence for the next half hour at least after except for the wind and occasional hawks wierd whistling scream. when he finally makes it to me i see he has his pack on and is sweating and shaky. now i have to go back for my pack. so he gets to relax and belay me for a bit.
Jarrett lowers me to my pack and tie it onto the rope instead of me, i have to help it around the corner but after that its a straight haul up the face, steep as hell! i can tell jarrett is impressed with my lead by the lack of talk. serious times indeed.
his lead next and it looks like itèll be to the top thankfully, we rerack and take a minute to asess our surroundings. we can see across to the glacier and falls under it and the little lake just above where we spent the night in mr. bears house is as bright as the blue of the sky from the glacial mineral water. amazing, and surreal. however times a wasting and we want of the wall and onto higher ground.
i get lots of time to sightsee as jarrett climbs and finaly after an eterity of paying rope out then nothing for even longer i hear him call secure. but then another call? lower me off is the call, and i dont understand. he comes down and explains how bad a position we have put ourselves in. after a hundred feet of rock the top is a 45 degree scree slope. unprotectable and hard to walk on with 60 lb. packs. Skunked.... still somewhat of a victory we have onsighted a semi serious short climb requiring some serious mountain skills.
back to bear camp. food and sleep and a new plan. we will retreat down the valley to under the lowest part of the saddle. there is big timber reaching all the way to the saddle their and we can climb it for sure. from there we will decide whether to keep going up or traverse round the mountain back to the trail out.
with 3 days food eaten out of our packs and some practice moving through the bush we know to avoid low ground and dense willow and make decent time then as we start into the steep ground we discover that blueberries on steep grow at face height. this slows us a little, ok a lot. grazing and moving we remember that bears are pretty smart and finally feel comfortable with our roaar we're a bear joke again. the saddle is reached and the alpine meadows prove much easier going than down in the valley. soon we are high enough to see both sides and the terrain grows more and more barren. as we start to descend the north end of the saddle has snow pack in it still and we feel like explorers again. its july and we are walking on snow!
then we come to the end! the valley ahead ends at the truck at least 15 k away but still! exciting, then we see rising above the spot where the truck must be! a pancake of flat grey rock sticking of the mountainside. not visible from the parking spot or anywhere down in the valley but plain as day from up here. solid climable rock! no scree slope under it to indicate rotten and plainly not vertical but just as plainly steep enough to bother looking into!
on the side of the saddle to our west between us and the glacier is a black rotten miserable looking serrated knife edge ridge. to the east, the flank of bulley itself, steep scree and scary with our heavy packs. also no water up there. home it is, or the truck at least then maybe go looking for this new crag!
we slog out to the road just before dark and startle an elk at the creek crossing. the full moon is rising so we decide to keep moving as the road is so much easier going than the bush and manage to make the truck just after midnight. a frantic munchy session and of to bed on the back deck of the death star.
day 5 and we have food for 3 more yet so we feast that morning and then set out without packs for the new crag. Across a logging cut block we see it rising as soon as the first hill is topped. it looks to be a kilometer long and very nearly half that tall.
3 hours later we are at the base of a slab of rotten sun baked mud looking slab. its the right color but theres something not jiving. we decide to keep climbing and at the top of this shit wall as we dub it is a drop into a little valley. across that our slab rises before us and our perseverance is rewarded. not shit! yay!
kicking ourselves for not bringing gear we decide to explore a bit then try and find a quicker way back to the truck. all the way climbers left we reach the end and easy climbing through big blocks the higher we get the better the view of bulley and soon the glacier rising behind that. trly spectacular! this is worth the blisters is the decision, a trail in will be built and we will climb here! somewhere around here is where the story gets good. on the way out jarrett has an idea. more a brainfart really.
"you know what would be cool?" he asks. "A cabin out here, its so far out it wouldnt get found and we like the area. there are a lot of cool things to see and do and climb, and we would use it in the winter for a snowmobile destination too!" Wow jarrett, thats a pretty cool plan! We toss ideas around all the way back to the truck and in the morning we set out again with our racks and ropes and flagging tape determined to reduce our approach time and touch stone with our dirty, tired, calloused hands.
I honestly dont remember much from that day its all become a blur now i do know i took pictures of his shiny new ropes and slashed my ankle good on a stick. he fell of a log in the worst way possible. feet both ways!
we climbed 4 pitches made the top of the crag and ate there. saw the glacier and mountain under a perfect sky as well as both valleys we had travelled. our plans were growing at every belay and rest and it all looked and sounded doable.
I guess its a mountain right away but have to ask for details. Turns out its the highest peak in our local maintain ranges and not that far away.
Sitting at 8800 feet and about a 100 km. south of Tumbler ridge on the also south and east of Monkman park, a provincial park that was the site of my first good adventure with jarrett sometime round 1996. An area I can relate to for sure.
"Of course!" is the only smart answer so i say just that. And the planning begins, we research routes, find a book on the local mountaineering by a local, and start making gear lists.
We cut a bunch of pitons out of one of our old sawblades from jarretts sawmill, started looking at the available mountaineering hammers and decided to buy roofing hatchets instead. then carve them down to the right profile.
All the stuff that needs doing and then some without actually even knowing what form our adventure will take
Finally in the fall our plans are finalized the truck is packed and we both cut our hair and headed out. his mohawk suits him but the twin hawk i cut just feels ridiculous on me, to distract i tie a canadian flag cape on and start rolling.
Our approach takes us to tumbler an hour away to the west. about 100 kms. the next 70 to the south on bulley creek forest service road takes 2 full hours and carries us steadily uphill. By the time we reach the end of the road, or at least where the logging road was deactivated we are within 40km. of the great divide, or high point where the watersheds change dirrection. our side flows north and east to hudsons bay and the north atlantic while the other flows west to the pacific.
A boulder marks the end of the road and on the other side a creek with no bridge any more, thats what deactivated means i guess. Every culvert and bridge pulled and erosion bars dug into steep hillsides, Bulley peak rising in front of us to the south, and cloads gathering. we shoulder our packs, grin, burn one. and head out.
The first 10 kms. are on this dead logging road weaving thru replanted leases carving up the sides of the valley, we pass piles of waste wood with trees in them 60 feet long looking for all the world like jumbled piles of straws.
Enough wood to keep or mill cutting for weeks.
The gathering cloads bring some rain and we can hear lightning booming down the valley behind us. with bulley looming over head and a stream crossing the road at a high point on the valley side we decide to set up camp and call it an early night.
camp consists of a tarp and our bag setups so it takes no time and once we have fire and food in us the storm hits in earnest. Darkness falls early and we retire to our sacks under our tarp inbetween 2 logs pulling ourselves p topside to watch the lightning and burn one we hoot and holler into the storm till one bolt hits close enough to blind and deafen us. humility and the safety of our tarp call us to bed.
the next day we push to the end of the logging site round the southeast side of the mountain then we turn west and follow the creek up the valley behind the mountain. eventually after much heanous bushwacking we reach the head of the valley.
Glacial moraine and thin stunted trees, a massive headwall cut with an equally masive waterfall up the middle and a thin trickle just left of it has us talking about future ice climbs out here while the lack of fuel forces us to follow the stream back down the valley till we can gather enough wood to cook with.
Round a corner into a sheltered mini valley that looks suprisingly homey for the middle of nowhere, A massive grizzly doing his thing on the other side of the creek! We thought of this of course but the whistles we bought just seem to get him curious. "Jarret find the dam bear banger man." hes fumbling and saying how hes trying dammit.
"Fooosh. BANG!" and griz is tails and gone. That was suuper scary and the signs all point to this being his home not ours. rocks over turned claw marks way up in trees. Poop all over. Eek! we had been roaring and joking about being bears mainly because of the local radio station that claims to be a bear but now.... not so funny. ROOOOAR! im not a bear at all.
So thats where we set up! made a big fire and shot of a couple more bangers then started looking at the walls. We came to climb and right now it seems safer up there. tommorow we go up there! excited much and kinda nervous we make camp again and begin seriously looking for our line. a walk up to the falls after a dinner of spaghetti with jarrets homemade sauce that he dehydrated for the trip and we begin to form a plan.
We intend to climb between the glacier and the mountain peak through the saddle and from there decide which summit to go for or if neither we can beeline up the valley on the other side of bulley.
The aproach is steep as hell, 65 maybe 70 degrees of heavily vegged talus and takes over an hour by the time we get under our line we are beginning to doubt our sanity. i win the rock paper scissor off and take first lead. Pack off harness and rack on away i go. as soon as i step around the corner into the cleft i remember that adventure can have a dirty side. mossy and dirty. my new hammer comes in handy right away as i use it to scrape away the moss and dig out the crack enough to find that its way to thin to put a clean piece in.
bing bing BINGBING, PING ping ping higher and higher pitched the ring of cold steel into the rock as i pound my first piton with my first hammer in real fear. "dude, your only 20 feet in?" jarret is around a corner from me and seriously questioning my sanity. "you'll see" i mutter "clipping. and climbing." not so bad now that ive got a piece pounded that i could drop a truck on under me and the crack opens up enough to get fingers and clean protection into.
Even though jarrettt is only 10 feet away beside me round the corner its a long way down under me allready and a fall that far two days walk from the truck....2 days for healthy not crippled people...Its a serious game we play but as i climb it seems to get easier. cleaner for sure, i finally hear the half rope call and build my anchor. silence for the next half hour at least after except for the wind and occasional hawks wierd whistling scream. when he finally makes it to me i see he has his pack on and is sweating and shaky. now i have to go back for my pack. so he gets to relax and belay me for a bit.
Jarrett lowers me to my pack and tie it onto the rope instead of me, i have to help it around the corner but after that its a straight haul up the face, steep as hell! i can tell jarrett is impressed with my lead by the lack of talk. serious times indeed.
his lead next and it looks like itèll be to the top thankfully, we rerack and take a minute to asess our surroundings. we can see across to the glacier and falls under it and the little lake just above where we spent the night in mr. bears house is as bright as the blue of the sky from the glacial mineral water. amazing, and surreal. however times a wasting and we want of the wall and onto higher ground.
i get lots of time to sightsee as jarrett climbs and finaly after an eterity of paying rope out then nothing for even longer i hear him call secure. but then another call? lower me off is the call, and i dont understand. he comes down and explains how bad a position we have put ourselves in. after a hundred feet of rock the top is a 45 degree scree slope. unprotectable and hard to walk on with 60 lb. packs. Skunked.... still somewhat of a victory we have onsighted a semi serious short climb requiring some serious mountain skills.
back to bear camp. food and sleep and a new plan. we will retreat down the valley to under the lowest part of the saddle. there is big timber reaching all the way to the saddle their and we can climb it for sure. from there we will decide whether to keep going up or traverse round the mountain back to the trail out.
with 3 days food eaten out of our packs and some practice moving through the bush we know to avoid low ground and dense willow and make decent time then as we start into the steep ground we discover that blueberries on steep grow at face height. this slows us a little, ok a lot. grazing and moving we remember that bears are pretty smart and finally feel comfortable with our roaar we're a bear joke again. the saddle is reached and the alpine meadows prove much easier going than down in the valley. soon we are high enough to see both sides and the terrain grows more and more barren. as we start to descend the north end of the saddle has snow pack in it still and we feel like explorers again. its july and we are walking on snow!
then we come to the end! the valley ahead ends at the truck at least 15 k away but still! exciting, then we see rising above the spot where the truck must be! a pancake of flat grey rock sticking of the mountainside. not visible from the parking spot or anywhere down in the valley but plain as day from up here. solid climable rock! no scree slope under it to indicate rotten and plainly not vertical but just as plainly steep enough to bother looking into!
on the side of the saddle to our west between us and the glacier is a black rotten miserable looking serrated knife edge ridge. to the east, the flank of bulley itself, steep scree and scary with our heavy packs. also no water up there. home it is, or the truck at least then maybe go looking for this new crag!
we slog out to the road just before dark and startle an elk at the creek crossing. the full moon is rising so we decide to keep moving as the road is so much easier going than the bush and manage to make the truck just after midnight. a frantic munchy session and of to bed on the back deck of the death star.
day 5 and we have food for 3 more yet so we feast that morning and then set out without packs for the new crag. Across a logging cut block we see it rising as soon as the first hill is topped. it looks to be a kilometer long and very nearly half that tall.
3 hours later we are at the base of a slab of rotten sun baked mud looking slab. its the right color but theres something not jiving. we decide to keep climbing and at the top of this shit wall as we dub it is a drop into a little valley. across that our slab rises before us and our perseverance is rewarded. not shit! yay!
"you know what would be cool?" he asks. "A cabin out here, its so far out it wouldnt get found and we like the area. there are a lot of cool things to see and do and climb, and we would use it in the winter for a snowmobile destination too!" Wow jarrett, thats a pretty cool plan! We toss ideas around all the way back to the truck and in the morning we set out again with our racks and ropes and flagging tape determined to reduce our approach time and touch stone with our dirty, tired, calloused hands.
I honestly dont remember much from that day its all become a blur now i do know i took pictures of his shiny new ropes and slashed my ankle good on a stick. he fell of a log in the worst way possible. feet both ways!
we climbed 4 pitches made the top of the crag and ate there. saw the glacier and mountain under a perfect sky as well as both valleys we had travelled. our plans were growing at every belay and rest and it all looked and sounded doable.
jarrett had been hoarding building materials from jobs and by the time we were in the truck rolling home a dream had been dreamt out loud by both of us. The Cabin At The End Of The Road was born that day.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Pheonix
My cousin just got back from Costa Rica and loved it. Loved it so much that he wants to buy a lot there and build a house. Seeing as we are in the house building business it just makes sense, his kids loved it, his wife loved it, and it wouldnt take us any time. So it's in the works we are going for it but my brother needs a passport, in fact his wife and her 4 year old daughter need passports too. I just got mine and it is a kind of daunting process so i went and picked up their applications the other day and brought them home and gave them to chris.
Chris has been telling pheonix about this plan and she was allready super excited so when the three envelopes showed up on the table she was a little interested. He explained that uncle joe had picked them up so they could get started on the paperwork that would let them... Us all leave the country to build houses and play in the tropics!
And then the questions began. Answering any question a 4 year old has will result in 3 more questions before the first answer has a chance to settle in. "Joe got us these?""
"Yes" from chris.
"So we can go to the place with the beaches?" He has been showing her internet pics of beaches and jungle and adventure.
"look, you should ask joe about it he knows way more than i do"Chris is as patient as always.
So i get the hot seat, and have to explain that i didnt buy themi just picked them up. They have to go in the mail still. They need to be filled out. the two green ones are for adults and the pink one is for children. yes the pink one is for you, no i didnt have to buy them i just picked them up. yes you can go anywhere in the world with one. Then one i didnt see coming. "Did you forget one? Theres only three. Wheres yours joe?"
" I allready have mine sweety, and you need someone with one to vouch. So i can do that for all three of you." I say to her. Up till now its been serious questioning Pheonix, answer me Pheonix with her razor sharp powers of observation. The smile of a lifetime hits her face she puts the envelopes down and rushes my leg grabbing and hugging as tight as a 40 lb. child can. " I LOVE YOU JOE" all in capitals and as true a statement as anyone could ever hope to hear.
Chris smiled and shook his head, as did i. "I love you to Pheonix" It was the only possible reply and life carried on. Dinner. Bed. Wake. Work.
Then next morning we are plotting for the future, in Costa rica andi have to tell Jarrett about last night with pheonix. Its just as good telling it as living it and i can tell by his eyes and mouth that he can see the whole moment clear as fresh waterfall ice. "Thats a good one man." he says " Thats the kind of moment you remember forever"
He's right and i'm pretty sure we will.
Chris has been telling pheonix about this plan and she was allready super excited so when the three envelopes showed up on the table she was a little interested. He explained that uncle joe had picked them up so they could get started on the paperwork that would let them... Us all leave the country to build houses and play in the tropics!
And then the questions began. Answering any question a 4 year old has will result in 3 more questions before the first answer has a chance to settle in. "Joe got us these?""
"Yes" from chris.
"So we can go to the place with the beaches?" He has been showing her internet pics of beaches and jungle and adventure.
"look, you should ask joe about it he knows way more than i do"Chris is as patient as always.
So i get the hot seat, and have to explain that i didnt buy themi just picked them up. They have to go in the mail still. They need to be filled out. the two green ones are for adults and the pink one is for children. yes the pink one is for you, no i didnt have to buy them i just picked them up. yes you can go anywhere in the world with one. Then one i didnt see coming. "Did you forget one? Theres only three. Wheres yours joe?"
" I allready have mine sweety, and you need someone with one to vouch. So i can do that for all three of you." I say to her. Up till now its been serious questioning Pheonix, answer me Pheonix with her razor sharp powers of observation. The smile of a lifetime hits her face she puts the envelopes down and rushes my leg grabbing and hugging as tight as a 40 lb. child can. " I LOVE YOU JOE" all in capitals and as true a statement as anyone could ever hope to hear.
Chris smiled and shook his head, as did i. "I love you to Pheonix" It was the only possible reply and life carried on. Dinner. Bed. Wake. Work.
He's right and i'm pretty sure we will.
Monday, April 5, 2010
jennifer
pebbles on the window... i had forgotten
it started with a kiss
stolen on your porch just under that window
climbing that porch
so many nights to steal more
it started with a kiss
stolen on your porch just under that window
climbing that porch
so many nights to steal more
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