you may say that i'm a dreamer, but i'm not the only one...

father's day is almost here (again), and not un-like mother's day, facebook has kindly prompted it's masses to copy and paste (and post) assorted pater related paraphernalia (south africa, 1975, dad is third from the left, next to mum, both sitting behind me).



but which photo? staring at the albums i got that same glazed over feeling which happens at baskin & robbins. but this is the one i went with; awali, bahrain, sometime in the mid 80's, on his way to work to do a couple of fillings. there were a lot of different names on the house signs, some in arabic, but as far as i can remember there weren't any others that started and ended with a z-- and believe me, there are a lot of arabic names that do.



at this point i think it is fairly evident that i cant commit to much of anything-- and i do thank, not blame, my dad for that (it is his fault about the flat feet though) geographical transience can do that to a person. iceland; circa. we were very small-- somewhere in the 3 foot range-- but this demonstrates how the fedorowicz's never travel light, regardless of how much practicing at it goes on.



then there was the "badass" one where he ran the comrades ultra-marathon in south africa (that's 90k south of the equator) some time in the late 70's.



or the one where he took "teenage me" mountain biking around the jebel (bahrain) with his windsurfing buddies, post-gulf war (the first one).



speaking of windsurfing...sheik's beach, bahrain, the 90's.



there was also the apres 'ride around the desert', in the paddling pool, with floating beer...



scuba diving in the red sea in the 80's. well, diving and drinking home brewed wine for the grown ups, ripping apart sea cucumbers and starfish for the under 9's.



and the "poo thing"...duba, saudi arabia; we were so proud of the home made camping toilet that was the sum product of the fedorowicz, wood and barnes families' hard labour.



because this is what we all had to put up with before; a shovel, sand dune and a roll of andrex...



always a family favourite, dad laughing uncontrollably while pointing out the giant, steaming pile the horse (that just carried his son and future daughter-in-law away by carriage) left behind. (keysoe, england, 5-ish years ago).



my birthday card (from my brother), detailing the finer points of a dog's bum, caused such silent mirth and tears of appreciation, that we could not miss the opportunity to document it (buckden, england, two-ish summers ago).



at this point, it's clearly evident that freud would have a field day; the apple cant even be pried off the tree. dad in his dental chair, bahrain.



last christmas.

remembering the 80's- when a school picture sparks a thousand memories (and comments on facebook)

catching octopi at the red sea with BBQ skewers, intentionally peeing all over the boy's bathroom floor, having a dunce hat put on your head by the teacher and then being told to stand in the corner, separate swim days at the pool for men and women- so you could never actually swim with both parents at the same time, teachers jailed and then deported for growing marijuana, being warned that you could go blind if you didn't look away as your classmate's father (also your opthamologist) is bringing a cauterizer towards your retina, motley crue tapes being censored with "the black marker" because saudi authorities didn't realize the band members were men, harbouring resentment over an imperfect spelling test when the american teacher docked a point for the addition of a "u" in "colour", even though it was an international school.

and the 90's; where the size of your (ok, my) glasses increased in tandem with the myopia.

oops...it's not all about "disa"

narcissism has some great ways of decorating reality; my narcissism. last year i played on a coed social football (soccer) league- this was the first time i had dribbled something (that was not on my pillow) in over 20 years. i begged the guy positioned behind me to be very concrete in his directives; "run forwards", "run backwards", "no, faster!", "kick the ball", "start breathing and get back up off the grass, now is not the time to lie down/cry/take a rest". he coached little kids, so i knew he could break it down for me. i found him to be very encouraging and informative. "push up d", "good job, d", "kick the ball, d". i sucked, but his narrative made me feel like i had contributed in some small way.

fast forward to coed flag football league this year. again, many patient voices and coaches, both on and off the field; cheering and directing me! "good job, d!" "don't let them through, d". "come on defense, don't let them through."

defense?

"d"

d?

not me?

defense.

oh.