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Lost Boys

July 21, 2014

Hitting mid summer up here in Canada usually has three guarantees – finally a blast of warmer weather, mosquitos, and of course the beginning of vacation season.  In my family’s household, vacation time usually meant a two week hiatus from our house and a long trek down the Trans-Canada highway to Radium Hotsprings in beautiful British Columbia – all except for me of course.  I always stayed back as I had a job while my other four brothers got to ride along and play in the mountains.  The years have since flown by, and now even the youngest brother earns a paycheck which means family vacations now only include mom and dad rolling down to the states in a trailer WAY too big for just the two of them.

Of course, leaving their estate in the hands of their vigorously apt sons always has a few rules attached.  Unfortunately for my parents, my brothers and I are well versed in the dark art of sarcasm and debauchery.

Taking a wonderfully coloured handwritten letter from my mom, they took every line in its most literal form, completely abusing her misinterpretation of the use of quotations.  And of course, I helped.




Parties were had, many games were played, Wednesday night was confusing and potted plants were virtually never watered.  I frequently visited to check up on things and consume whatever alcohol they had taken from dad’s liquor cabinet.

However, in the end, we all managed to make a mad dash to clean the place up just before they arrived home.  Not all of the notes content went to mockery, however.  If there was one thing that we did learn as a team of Men in Arms, it was that mom was essentially right about the cooking.  We cooked together, and we’ll be damned if we didn’t learn a few life skills along the way.  Such as we so desperately need to marry women who possess talent in the kitchen.



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