I had planned to write a roundup article about this summer’s events, and plan to – but for today: a story.
The other night, I’m plunking away here at the keyboard when BW hands me her phone. She’s on Google Talk with her sister and her niece (my niece in law?) and she wants to talk to me.
Apparently, I am in trouble. Big trouble . I may have in the past told a little white lie or two. Like how last year I was in Canada working at the North Pole all winter with Santa (thank Scott!) and that’s why I couldn’t be at her house in the USA this holiday season (the real reason was US VISA stuff was still getting sorted out and I moved over just after the holdays) but hey, why ruin a good story by telling the truth?
Anyway, my little friend has obviously thinking about all my tall tales and because she’s big and now six years old and can ride bicycles without training wheels and whole lot of other stuff we’re so proud of her for, she’s finally come to realize that maybe Uncle Jim may be telling stories and not the truth. In short, my number’s up.
And she wanted to talk to me. “Uncle Jim, you tell stories”! she exclaimed. I tried to plead innocence but she wasn’t going to have any of this. She was on to me and I was busted. And all through our little chat she would hold her eye just inches away from the camer and state firmly: “I’ve got my eye on you!” over and over again. A silly little moment..
Meanwhile, Back at the Farmhouse
We went to a wedding this weekend. The bride was beautiful. Look, I have proof:
And while there, we you know did normal wedding stuff, like balloon rides (what? everybody doesn’t have balloon rides at their wedding?)
But before we left to go to the world’s coolest wedding ever, we had to solve one small problem:
It seems I’ve gotten a little, um, larger in the waistline since last time I had the opportunity to wear my glad rags and there was an emergency help my pants don’t fit run to our favorite store before we could attend the coolest wedding ever.
And this brings me to today’s story:
You Know Where The Front Door Is
In an effort to ‘maintain the standard’ of my waistline I decided to start a running regimen again to reduce the effects that death by chocolate ice cream and a suburban lifestyle has wrought on my midsection. And with panettone season just around the corner too I’d better get moving quickly. I’m feeling gravity’s pull, one might say.
So today was the first day of **‘the run’ **
Day 1. There was a lot more walking than running admittedly, but I got out the door and I was gone for a bit – it’s a good little route – six miles round trip, so it took me a little while to get there and back. There’s a reason I chose this route – there’s a Tim Horton’s opening up, so I figure I could walk there, grab a coffee and walk back. I hope to see the grand opening by month’s end. I’m going to take the dog and buy her a Timbit – she’s already fat, so she could use the walk too.
My mistake was I guess I didn’t tell BW about my great plan for a six mile hike and she assumed I was going to be out for just a lap around the block and not a hour and a half adventure. (that’s 4 miles per hour, btw).
I was about a half a block from home BW comes buzzing around the corner in the car. And oh crap, She’s MAD AT ME. ”I was worried” she says.
“I can’t leave the house for an hour?” I ask, incredulously?
Apparently, the answer is no for those that need to know. I was in grande trouble – Major do-do.
But, as I walked back and watched her drive by after she turned the car around, she stops as she pulls into the driveway and says:
“I’ve got my eye on you!”
I’ve never been watched by so many.