The day of this post is my birthday. It was a great lazy day off of work. I did a 3 mile walk at the local walking track, then my wife cooked a great roast beef dinner, then cake with the family. A truly great day, and for this blog post I am continuing with my stroll down memory lane with my family. Here's a couple tales of intrigue, suspense and good ol' family fun. Enjoy:
One lesson learned with my time spent with my cousin Lenny was never, NEVER, pee on a red ant pile!!! Anyway the story goes like this: I was about 5 years old and we lived at the old trailer court behind the Fort Motor Inn, in Fort Assiniboine, Alberta, Canada. One day I found this huge mound of dirt that had these little creatures crawling all over it, which I now know was a red ant pile. My cousin and best friend Lenny was being dropped off for a visit and I wanted to show him my discovery, Lenny was about 4 years old then. He was just as amazed by them as I was. I'm not sure who it was who came up with the idea of peeing on the red ant pile but it was decided by us both that it would be a good idea. So we whipped out our "ding-a-lings" and went to work giving the ants what is known in some circles as a "golden shower". And we laughed, and laughed, and laughed. We zipped up our fly's and patted each other on the back for a job well done. Then I noticed an ant on Lenny's shoulder. I swatted it off for him and soon discovered many more ants crawling around Lenny's shirt. Ants were all over Lenny now and he started to scream!!!! I looked down at my shirt and pants and discovered that I too was covered in red ants!!!! I screamed in pain as they began to bite me, and Lenny and I ran back to our house. My Mom heard our screams and we ran up to our deck. While still outside my Mom stripped us both down to our tighty whiteys in an attempt to get all the ants off our bodies. A lesson hard learned, never ever pee on a red ant pile. EVER!!!
Sister Moving Out
My sister is a married woman with a great and wonderful husband and they have a little boy by the name of Damien, who is near and dear to my heart. They have been living back in Canada but recently took a trip back to my brother-in-law's home nation of Sweden. Anyway this reminded me of the first time Brianna attempted to move out of our house. She was about 8 years old, and we were neighbours with the Dyck family's who had two girls Brianna's age. So one weekend afternoon Brianna makes the announcement to Mom, Dad and I that she wants to move to Emily and Wendy's farm. She thinks living there would be better than home cause they had cows, they went skiing, etc. Mom and Dad looked at each other and told her that would be a great idea and to go ahead. Brianna surprised at first slowly walked to her room to pack. I was 11 years old and oblivious to their ploy. "Why are you letting her move out?" I asked. "She won't leave, just watch" Mom said. A short time later Brianna came out of her bedroom with a suitcase. We all pretended not to notice her. "Good bye" Brianna said. "Yep see ya" we replied. Brianna slowly made her way out the door. We went to the front window and watched as Bri was slowly walking away from the house. She got about half way to the tree line when she stopped. She dropped her suitcase and began to cry, putting her head into her hands. Dad having what is known as the "Lockhart sense of humour" told me to go outside and tell her to get off our land. And that's what I did, I even picked up some small pebbles and threw them in her direction, missing her of course. This made her cry even louder as she said "I want to come home...". This only lasted for about 30 seconds then Mom and Dad went outside and went to Brianna, and they brought her back to the house. She unpacked her suitcase and never left again till she was about 21 or so. Sorry Bri, I was just doing what I was told to do....
And that is all folks. Take care!!