Several weeks ago my wife and I joined several other couples on an ATV ride in Springhill, Nova Scotia. It was early spring and the leaves were just starting to come out on the trees. The area we went riding in was interwoven with all kinds of trails; some technical and slow, others wide open and fast. It was supposed to rain that day, but the weather gods showed some mercy and only sprinkled on us for a few minutes. Check out the pics below. They don’t do the day justice, but you’ll get the idea that it was a pile of fun.

This post flags the conclusion of my alphabet series. For the past two months I’ve been publishing posts with subjects starting with the letters of the alphabet in reverse order. This exercise proved to be more challenging than I thought it might. I had actually intended to have it complete in a month. Oh well…

Here’s that photo slideshow I mentioned earlier. Click the stack of photos to flip to the next picture. Enjoy!

Yesterday was my son’s 18^th birthday. To celebrate, we brought him and his girlfriend to Montana’s Restaurant. He was hesitant to go because if the staff know it’s your birthday they announce it to the whole restaurant and sing a song. Oh yeah… and they make you wear this silly moose-antlered helmet. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything, so he need not worry about being embarrassed. Thankfully, though, his mother didn’t make that promise!

Here he is, in all his glory! Happy Birthday (yesterday), Garrett!

Dear God,

This year, can you please send some clothes to all those poor ladies in daddy’s computer?

Flashback… 25 years ago. I’m working in the kitchen at a McDonald’s restaurant in St. John’s, Newfoundland. It’s busy. REALLY busy. I’m scrambling around the kitchen, obeying the orders of the manager running the production bin. His name is Dick Tracy. (I’ve changed his last name because it’s not important to the story.) I’d always enjoyed when it was busy, so things were going good and I was in good spirits.

Dick: Hey Steve, I need 6 McChicken down. (Meaning putting chicken patties in the deep fryer.)
Me: Right on dude!

Then Dick stopped what he was doing. He marched right across the kitchen and started wagging his finger in my face.

Dick: Don’t you EVER call me “dude” again!
Me: Uh…. why?
Dick: Because where I come from it’s an insult!
Me: And “Dick” isn’t?

I worked at McDonald’s for five years after that. He never spoke another word to me again. Ever.

Incidentally, the definition of “dude”:

[dood, dyood]
–noun
1. a man excessively concerned with his clothes, grooming, and manners.
2. Slang. fellow; chap.
3. a person reared in a large city.
4. Western U.S. an urban Easterner who vacations on a ranch.

I don’t know. Maybe he was reared in his large city by some chap obsessed with his grooming while on vacation on a ranch out west.

My son is in his last week of school, not just for the year, but forever. He’s about to do his final exams and he plans to go to university in the fall at Memorial University back in Newfoundland. In the last three years, since grade 10, he’s really turned it on with regards to his school work. He does his homework without my help or my wife’s nagging rightful prompting. He takes time to study and pays attention in class. His grades in high school have gotten better every year and they are running about 15% higher than when he was in middle school. I think he’s well prepared for the work required from university and has a good head on his shoulders. He’s a good kid and we have a lot to be proud of, but he’s leaving us soon. He’s entering his final summer holidays of adolescence and will be off to university in the fall.

My wife has been in Newfoundland visiting family since last week. My almost-18 son has his own social life and has spent a good portion of his time out with friends, leaving me with nobody but the dog. Aaawwwwweee. I’m not looking for sympathy, I’m just saying I’ve had a lot of quiet time to think. I always thought that as our son grew into a man and left the house to start his own life I’d simply turn a page in my life and start the next chapter. I thought that we’d miss him if he went to another town for university (thank GOD he’s planning to do university) or if he moved out on his own, but we’d go with the flow and enjoy the next phase of our life with lower grocery bills and less laundry.

But as the date gets closer and he hits more milestones spelling out in flashing neon the inevitable day that he moves out my anxiety levels increase. Just like my 40th birthday a couple of years ago, what I thought would be a simple life gate I would walk through is setting up to be a mental and emotional boot camp obstacle course run by some sick drill sergeant yelling obscenities at me. I know it won’t kill me, but it doesn’t calm the feelings of dreadful melancholy that haunt me when I think about it.

We’ve always joked that when he’s 18 he’s outta here, but that always seemed so far away. Somehow, I think I’m gonna hate the sight of that empty laundry basket…

This is the latest installment from Donnie Dumphy at Motionshow. It’s from his album “I Loves Doin’ Wheelies”. Funny, funny stuff! You might have to watch it a few times to catch all of the words.

“Never paid for cable in me life. Sure everyone knows all you needs is a set of needle nose pliers.”