I spent the better part of 2 hours yesterday shoveling dirt. No, I'm not a Parliament reporter! I am building a bike track in our side yard with a bunch of dirt trucked in for free ("Yay!").
Here's the thing. When I exercise I turn a violent shade of purple. No matter how fit or unfit I happen to be at the time of exercise (the last time was during the Trudeau era), my head region begins by sweating profusely, my neck and face turning an iridescent red (ably assisted by the hot sun, for which I wear no protection whatsoever), then my entire head is suffused with a violet glow. It appears to bystanders as though I have contracted some hideous form of radiation poisoning, or so they tell me from a safe distance.
That alone is interesting, but what is even better is when you transition from sweaty shoveling mode to 'picking the kids up from play dates' mode.
I hopped into our van (well, collapsed into it, truth be told) and proceeded on my way, air conditioning blasting directly in my face.
What resulted was what I can only describe as Face Crust. Fast drying perspiration formed a sort of mask on me, such that I could barely move my muscles. It was like Botox on the cheap. I checked the mirror as the lava that had been my face gradually cooled, and noticed a hideous white powder forming over my features. I was aging before my own, sweaty eyes!
I'm afraid I owe an apology to the hosts of my children. The visage that greeted them at the door must have been terrifying. Much like the guy in the goalie mask from some teenage horror movie, I stood there, purple, face frozen, white crust cracking open slightly to mumble something unintelligible about children.
"I've hum to hick up ny kids?" I said.
"Whatever you want - just don't hurt me," one said.
I was actually at the wrong house, but I got a kid anyway. Huh.
Anyway, its another hot day today, so I'm off to shovel the yard.
I'm not sure I like the nickname Grapes. Maybe just call me Red Seedless in future. Red for short.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
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