This past weekend, Nate and I tripped up to the Okanagan to scope it out, and to enjoy my mom and dad’s empty house. (Supposedly they’ll have moved back into it by the end of the month… but packing seems to be progressing slo—wly).

We drove up after work on Friday, and arrived around 9pm—we were shortly thereafter joined by my brother and our childhood neighbor, Brad Cook. They arrived with beer, rum, and a desire to start a fire in the outdoor pit. Before long, Brad (a self-proclaimed rapper) was laying down the phat tracks—“Yo, yo, yo, I’m Bradley C. and I’m here hangin’ with Sandy and E-- we all be chillin’ ‘round the fi-re and I be laying the lines on the ____” He encouraged us all to freestyle with him—Sandy was pretty sauced and would sit stunned for a few moments too long before spitting out a rhyming word. It was hilarious. Brad puked a few times in mom’s garden, and I don’t remember doing anything but laughing.

The next day, Sandy woke Nate and I shockingly early with demands for breakfast—Brad couldn’t be roused. Sandy is like an angry baby crow when he is hungry—actually, he’s like an angry baby crow most of the time. We headed into Penticton for a White Spot brekkie—usually my favorite, but I keep on forgetting that it has been routinely disappointing lately; crappy coffee, and those dreaded soggy shred-style hash browns that always seem to be lukewarm. Minor grievances aside, it was nice hanging out with my brother and my guy, and having breakfast talk. We went to the farmer’s market and purchased a mish-mash of items; bison sausage, burdock, and fresh honey. The best part was bumping into old friends and neighbors, and recognizing familiar people. I found Greg McLean at the ‘Sacred Sun Body Art’ booth—I worked for him and his wife one summer travelling around to different events and fairs doing henna ‘tattoos’. It was neat seeing him again; he even let me take up my old tools and do a wicked pin-up girl in henna on my brother’s arm. It proved very popular throughout the day, though Sandy did get the seedy eye from a small group of disapproving ladies at the market.

Later, there was to be a big 35th anniversary party at Bob and Kerrel Lincoln’s house—something I would have known about sooner if I hadn’t dropped off of Facebook. (My brother is still disgusted with me for doing so—“what, are you too cool for Facebook?”) Still pooped from the night before, we decided to preface the party with a nap and a visit to Tickleberry’s for an ice-cream cone. I opted for lemon sorbet, and Nate got my fave from last year, a horribly bright ice cream called ‘Play-dough’. Sounds gross, but it’s cherry-banana-blueberry. Yum. The murals I painted still look great; I’m so glad I investigated the colourfastness of all the paints I used, and only bought the best. We inspected the T-Shirts they have put out with my artwork this year—they’re very cute, and are already proving to be big sellers! I felt quite satisfied, and not a little pride for my small-town fame. I’ve had more than my allotted 15 minutes, lucky me! (take that, Andy Warhol!)

We eventually met up with Sandy back at the house and decided to walk up through Kaleden to the Lincoln’s house to bypass any chance of any drunk driving. When we got there I was attacked by a barrage of huggers—great! It was fun to see my old schoolmates and the ‘Kaleden parents’ whooping it up together. The party was neat; it started out sweet and mellow, and progressed to saucy and wild. Bob Lincoln is well-known for the potency of his home-made wine, so I wasn’t surprised to hear about the table-dancing and other highjinx that went on after Nate and I headed home early…

We had breakfast out again the next morning, with Tamara, Brad, Josh, Sonia, Cindy and Cassie. We got to meet Tam and Brad’s new puppy, Ivy… what a cutie! (But seriously—who doesn’t like puppies?) I heard far more about what I missed after Nate and I left the party—I think I’m glad I left! The farther away I stay from trouble, the less of it I get into! Nate and I cruised Penticton after breakfast, and he bombed Carmi on his longboard—that was probably the most scared I’ve been for him while I’ve been following him and spotting for him—how much good am I in a car behind him on a blind hairpin corner? Yikes. He’s crazy. I can’t beat him, but sometimes I don’t know if I want to join him, either. He’ll be up in Vernon next weekend for the DH event there.

It was sunny and breezy and beautiful for the entire weekend—the landscape is relatively unchanged from my childhood, with the exception of more houses being built across the lake from us (more lights on the hillside at night) and the evidence of the pine beetle scourge. Sandy estimates that within the next five years, the majority of the ponderosa pines will be toast.

Anyway, lots of fun was had by all; good to stomp the hometown ground once in a while.