From the Brig last summer — that being Mike’s family cottage on the St. John River in New Brunswick.

Went camping this weekend. Inspired by the rain and fog and scary bogs where probably hundreds of foolish moose have sank to the bottom.

Through the acquaintance of a new (bike messenger) friend, I was offered a job bike messengering. In a small town. In Germany. On the edge of the Black Forest. Brain=explosion.

In an odd twist of irony, one that made me cackle with riotous laughter when I was first offered the job, I remember when I went hiking with my sister in said enchanted forest and ended up getting lost because the trail map was 100 per cent useless. It was a mailman in his cheery yellow cube truck that pointed us in the right direction after we ran down the dirt road, arms flailing and hollering at the top of our lungs to get his attention. I hope my mother never reads this, she wasn’t supposed to find out how we almost perished in the great wild of Bavaria.

PS: I was about done writing de damn tingz when Jessica saunters up, asks me what I’m still doing here (here being the school library on a bloody Tuesday at 10:30 p.m.), pulls up a wheely chair, and in the mostly-automatic process of sitting down, manages to wipe out on the ground.

PPS: Speaking of wiping out, I ruined my left hip and ass when I went down on a wet streetcar track last week. May God strike down the City of Toronto and their novelty trolley lines in a blitzkrieg of lightning.

At a kids’ Bible camp, cleanliness is next to godliness.

(Okay, poor humour. Love this shot even if my arm snuck in on some fourth-wall tip.)

Juani, 2, 3, MySpace pose! This is the first night of the camp. She got a hold of some masking tape and made me write out for her “Canice is my best friend” and then stuck it to her shirt.

Maggan, little sister to Darcy (see last post) and littler sibling to April (picture to come). She’s shy at first, but it’s a ruse. Six years old, built with the strength and character of an ox. You just can’t get mad at her when she’s so photogenic. With all the grace and poise of a model, she turns it on. Real Sears catalogue material. Winnie sits next to her – she’s pretty cool too.

Darcy, Jayden and Isaiah get their egg salad on. Inexplicably, these kids love their mayo and hard-boileds. A bit of je ne sais quoi.

My mom was in charge of cooking for almost 30 people, staff and kids combined. Pretty huge undertaking, and the food was always good. Daily grocery trips ran into the hundreds, and would usually take up 3 full carts. I like her for that. She can literally feed armies.

Peter is 10 years old. It was his first time at the camp.

In the first week of July I went up to Chibougamau, a town in northern Quebec – a 16 hours drive from Toronto and a town seemingly closer to the Hudson Bay than my preferred sort of civilization. I helped my family and their church group to run an annual week-long kids camp for the Cree First Nations kids who live on Ouje-bougamau, a reserve ajacent to the town. Unforgettably cute, unforgettably tragic stories. I have a hard time even a month later trying to process how I felt about the 10 days up there, so maybe the stories will have to wait for later.

 


Typical shot.

Bravo Pizza, Broadway Ave. Real deep dish, real tourist gouge.

Things that make the United States better than Canada, #1: Vitamin Water Dragonfruit

Things that make the United States better than Canada, #2: Au Bon Pain