April 4th, 2010.

Beer, vodka (caesers or cran), rum (and coke), wine (home brew), scotch, cabbage rolls, fresh buns, perogies, creamed corn, marshmallow salad (green this year), broccoli salad, pickled eggs, turkey, Saskatchewan ham, stuffing, gravy and family.

Drinking and eating 10am-2pm.
Nap time, then back at it.
The cards come out, games, cameras and wrestling until the first crew retires- those with kids to bed and roadtrips to accomplish.

We don’t stop. We pile into the pickup truck, blast some tunes, grab onto those Pilsners and cruise.
Shotgun in the driver seat.
“It’s wild boar season!”

Rippin’ through wet fields, 4x4in’, carving paths with craft and experience and reminiscing of less successful attempts.
Mud cakes on, the parents text and call (cause they’ve done what we’re doing and know that drinking and driving leads to worse than cousins with DUIs).

We stop where and whenever.
You just say so.
Cruisin’ in open lands, glory fields and fire horizons.
I document a bullet ridden yield sign (sometimes that’s what the shotgun in the driver’s side is for) and note the signs dented by high speed, passenger bottle throws (a skill to acquire).
Four veterans today, one newbie.
She speaks of recycling, but the rules are different here, you don’t want to be pulled over with empties.
Consume and toss or plant and collect them later.

(We stop, poplars tower).

The truck idles, music playing and not wanting the battery to die.
The last thing you want is having the ‘rents say I told you so.
Smoke and casual conversation, family bonds.

(Sun sets, fire horizon extinguished, sparkle sky intitiate).

The bar’s closed (Easter Sunday), the beer’s dry and grandma’s back with the rest of the crew. The super woman who we all want to spend ample time with. She’ll reciprocate too, cribbage/ Kaiser queen or not, until we fade in our youth and she puts us to bed.