Between full-time careers, a photo business, the house, meals, and the girls’ soccer and swimming, it’s safe to say Chris and I lead borderline chaotic lives. As a side note, the previous sentence also serves to explain my inexcusably long absence from my blog over the past couple of weeks.
Once in a while, we call up our neighbours and ask their daughter to babysit. We adore our daughters; but just once in a while, having dinner as grown-ups, without hearing which daughter took the other’s toy, having to convince them that vegetables are not actually evil, or cleaning up spills and messes, is a treat.
And so it was that Chris and I planned on a date for last Wednesday, June 23. In fact, we made plans with our neighbours, the ones nice enough to lend us their daughter. As new motorcycle owners, we decided that if the weather cooperated, we’d go out riding and stop for dinner somewhere; otherwise, we’d go out for a movie.
I was at work, looking forward to that evening, when at 1:41 p.m., I felt a vibration under my feet, which quickly progressed into an unsettling tremor, shaking our desks and walls. It was as though God was pushing a small city around in a cart. We headed outside and waited until the authorities told us it was safe.
And by “authorities”, I mean colleagues who’d put on hard hats and fluorescent orange vests, carrying walkie-talkies.
After arriving home, we were all the more anxious to have a little time to unwind from the day’s events. So off we went with our neighbours, riding along back roads, feeling the wind on our faces, and smelling the trees (and occasionally manure).
Somewhere in Green Acres, our neighbours’ bike broke down. After circling the bike for a while, they thought they might start the bike by compression if Chris pushed it. Luckily, it worked. Not wanting to tempt fate, we thought it best to double back.
That’s when we started feeling light rain, like little drops of mockery on our faces. After a few more turns, a loud, startling POW! resonated, causing each of us to likely need a change of pants. Our neighbour’s bike had backfired, and was dead again. After a little cursing and more pushing, we were bombing our way home before anything else could happen.
Once we were safely back, the four of us climbed into their car, drove over to Kelsey’s, and had 3 pitchers of Rickard’s Red, with some food on the side. How will our next date ever top this one?