{"id":373,"date":"2006-08-05T23:30:22","date_gmt":"2006-08-06T04:30:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.forgetful.ca\/?p=269"},"modified":"2006-08-05T23:30:22","modified_gmt":"2006-08-06T04:30:22","slug":"gullible-me","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/?p=373","title":{"rendered":"Gullible me"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>When I was little, summer weekends were often spent in Lachute, QC at my grandparent&#8217;s country house.  It was on a small piece of land, no where near water &#8211; but somehow we kids seemed to keep ourselves busy and *mostly* out of trouble.<\/p>\n<p>My favourite memories from those trips involved my grandfather.  He was always up at the crack of dawn, having a coffee and a cigarette out in the family room, and all the while singing and whistling Frank Sinatra tunes.  As soon as I would hear him moving around, I would hop out of bed and race out so I could have him all to myself, if only for a little while.<\/p>\n<p>Without fail I would find him sitting in his armchair, looking out the window that faces the road.  And without fail, he would light up when he saw me and would wave his hand for me to hurry over to the window.  Once I&#8217;d get there he&#8217;d always say &#8220;Oh Shan&#8230;you missed him again.  I&#8217;m sorry.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>The &#8216;him&#8217; he was referring to was the local moose.  The story was that this moose would saunter up the road every morning, just moments before I peeked my face out of the bedroom (how convenient!).  It became my personal mission to rise earlier and earlier to try to catch a glimpse the moose.  I never did.<\/p>\n<p align=\"center\"><a title=\"moose.jpg\" class=\"imagelink\" href=\"http:\/\/www.forgetful.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2006\/08\/moose.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" width=\"217\" height=\"306\" alt=\"moose.jpg\" style=\"width: 217px; height: 306px\" id=\"image270\" src=\"http:\/\/www.forgetful.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2006\/08\/moose.jpg\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m 31 and I still haven&#8217;t.  Not only on the road in front of my grandparent&#8217;s long sold country house &#8211; but anywhere.  I&#8217;ve seen pictures and moose heads hanging on dan&#8217;s uncle&#8217;s basement wall (vomit), but I&#8217;ve never seen a real live moose.  And it&#8217;s still something I feel I need to do.  In fact, all because of my Pappy and his imaginary Lachute moose (yes, years later I realized that he was pulling my leg &#8211; over and over), I&#8217;ve been desperate to see one.  It&#8217;s even graduated to my list of &#8216;101 Things to Do Before I Die&#8217;.<\/p>\n<p>That brings us to this weekend.  We are leaving for Saskatoon in a matter of hours.  Dan&#8217;s aunt and uncle are celebrating 30 years of marriage and we decided that we couldn&#8217;t miss it.  As excited as I am to see everyone again, I think I&#8217;m more excited about having Dan keep his promise from our last visit to his university town: a visit to the zoo.  You see, unlike other zoos you may have visited where the stars of the show are lions and tigers and monkeys, the Saskatoon Zoo boasts moose and deer and wolves and foxes.  You know, animals that you could easily run into if you were walking deep enough through the woods anywhere in Canada.  Anyone but me, apparently.<\/p>\n<p>So&#8230;the camera is all charged up (and so is the girl) and with any luck I&#8217;ll come back with one of my &#8216;101 Things to Do Before I Die&#8217; crossed off.  This has been a long time coming.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>When I was little, summer weekends were often spent in Lachute, QC at my grandparent&#8217;s country house. It was on a small piece of land, no where near water &#8211; but somehow we kids seemed to keep ourselves busy and *mostly* out of trouble. My favourite memories from those trips involved my grandfather. He was [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0},"categories":[14,32,50],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/373"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=373"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/373\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=373"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=373"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/forgetful.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=373"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}