End of an era, in more ways than one

The dreaded phone call comes when you least expect it, even when it is expected. Mrs. Ottawacker got the call today that her dad was not doing well and was not expected to be around much longer. It was quickly decided that she and her brother would make a late dash to try and see him – he is in a hospice in Sarnia, which is a 9-10 hour drive away. So, we packed up our various things and waited for Ottawacker Jr. to come home from school, broke the news to him and then started our hour-long journey through rush hour up to Kanata, which is where her brother lives. Rush-hour Ottawa is an appalling place: there are roadworks everywhere and people lose what little they have of their minds trying to navigate through it. And when there is an impending storm, with lightning flashing overhead, rain drops the size of grapes falling every now and then, and darkness closing in…well, then you can imagine something biblical is going to happen and you try to get home as quickly as you can.
 
We made it up to Kanata by 5 and wished them a safe trip. I then took Ottawacker Jr. for dinner – he wanted to go to Harvey’s, a generally crappy burger joint, so we did. It was awful, which meant of course that he loved it. Then we drove home, making it just as the thunderstorm broke in earnest: two hours of threats, followed by a magnificent display of thunder and lightning. We sat through a documentary on Van Halen (his choice) during which I was able to explain just why “Jump” was the seminal track of my youth.
 
Eventually put the boy to bed. Tui decided that what every boy needs to cheer up is a cat’s arse in his face. And who am I to disagree?