Kiss My What?

Despite the overwhelming weight of an upcoming down payment and the subsequent mortgage payments (or perhaps because of that same weight), we got away this weekend. Nine of us rented a cottage on Bowen Island. It's a small island that sits in our harbour. Only twenty minutes by ferry and yet a world away. It is a quiet island that reminds me a little of cottage country in Northern Ontario. Or it did until we arrived.

The view from the cabin's large deck was spectacular. We looked out over a steep wooded hill into a bay and out to the ocean. Several islands broke up the horizon and there was a nautical map on the wall inside the cabin that let us take a decent guess as to which island was which.

Al noticed, in the middle of the bay, a clump of reeds or brush. It was hard to say what it was. All that Al could say for certain was that it was moving. Funny enough, all that Claude could say for certain was that it wasn't moving. And the first of two fine wagers was made. Island or flotsam: loser to do one hundred push ups in increments or in full at the winners behest.

If it was moving, it was moving too slowly to be sure. At least at first and we immediately postponed the judgment till morning. But, before dark it was clear that the island was gone. Claude's only hope was for the flotsam to get caught in some kind of eddy and be slung back into the bay.

Morning came and in the clear light it was even clearer who had lost.

Then came tennis. They had a nice court. It was in good shape, with a decent net. But it was the most beautiful tennis court I've ever seen, because of the view. It also looked out into the bay.

Now what goes around, comes around and the tennis court was complete with what might be a royal box or perhaps a press box. In our case, it was simply the peanut gallery. It was from this box, maybe 14 feet above the court, that we lobbed our comments and snide remarks. It was from there that we were able to goad Al into betting Donna: the loser to kiss the winners feet five times.

Al struggled trying to avoid kissing Donna's feet for so long that the moon came out. Ah, getting back to nature. Isn't it great. Thanks M. for that little bit of nature.