Monday, April 26, 2010
Bliss to Humiliation: thirty seconds flat
On our way down to Point Roberts last weekend, we stopped at Diefenbaker Park in Tsawwassen to enjoy the playground and feed the fish, turtles and ducks (FYI, I watched with a combination of fascination and horror as another family fed the *gigantic* fish a whole bag of McDonald's french fries...no wonder the fish are freakishly massive, their cholesterol is probably through the roof...plus, the sound the fish made gulping the fries and the water will likely haunt my nightmares for years...anyway...).
The sun was shining, the children were happy and active and our bellies were full of Blizzard from the local DQ. Sweetness all around, from the chocolate covering Lukey's little face, to the tender feelings we all had for each other in that blissful moment.
Eric took the kids for a little walk up to the waterfall, while I set myself up on a bench with my knitting. Ahhh, the contentment. It was JUST PERFECT.
Then, it occurred to me that the wind was a teensy touch cool. I figured I might go grab a sweater or maybe head back to the car to warm up. I gathered my things (including all the crap those lovely children had just dumped on my bench before taking off) and started the 100m walk back to the parking lot. I got almost all the way to the car before I realized that I had everything EXCEPT the ball of wool for my knitting. Since it was attached to my needles, I looked down to see the yarn trailing across the entire park. There was a very confused looking guy about my age standing by my bench halfheartedly gathering the wool in clumps.
I felt monumentally ridiculous. He kept ineptly winding the ball of wool as I walked back towards him. It was like I was some sort of clumsy fish he was reeling in veeeery slowly. I even said something brilliant like, "hey, you are reeling me in...!" This inane comment was met with a blank stare. Awesome.
It gets worse. I had turned a couple of circles, I guess, trying to figure out where the ball of wool had gone. As the benevolent and mystified stranger got closer to me, it became clear that my feet had somehow become wrapped in the yarn at my end. He pretty much just handed me the wool and walked away (quickly). He'd stopped winding, so the yarn was scattered all over and the bulk of it was tangled around my ankles.
I started to try to step in and out of the mess, my hands still full of all the crap the kids had left on the bench. I dropped all the sweaters and soppy Blizzard cups on the ground to deal with the wool. Immediately, two things happened. The Blizzard cups were grabbed by the wind and carried in opposite directions and the wool somehow got attached to my car keys (like, right through the keychain...I have no idea how that happened). I couldn't move fast enough to grab the cups because my feet were effectively TIED together by the wool.
Defeat. I plopped myself down on the ground. I did a frantic full body belly reach across the grass to grab the cups, just barely. My hands were now covered in chocolate and melted ice cream. The wool was hopeless. I tried to untie myself, looking up the hill to see if Eric and kids had seen my rapid descent from happiness to horror. Nope, still just the same guy from earlier, pushing his kid on the swings and barely concealing his amusement at my total ridiculousness.
I sorted myself out before Eric and the kids got back. We played some more, but it didn't seem quite so perfect anymore. I had a huge grass stain, wickedly knotted knitting and bruised ego. Good thing I had the best kind of company to cheer me up.