My Summer Crush:

This kid. I have been crushing on this bike for over a year now. In fact, during long days at the Scottish Parliament where we were in between jobs, my wife and I had a tendency to discuss bikes quite often, which may or may not have been because we thought the Scottish Sun was nothing more than a tabloid and bicycles existed only in a sunny, vague part of our imagination often referred to as 'summer.' Regardless, the conversations generally went as follows:

B: I don't believe in Peter Pan Frankenstein or Superman all I wanna do is bicycle bicycle bicycle I want to ride my bicycle bicycle bicycle I want to ride my bicycle I want to ride my bike

E: What?! What is that? How can you not believe in Peter Pan? Why would you ever say that?

B: Dude. Queen.

E: All right. I think you are on drugs. Who is the queen...? All I have to say is this: I think you're weird. I don't want you to be my doctor.

B: QUEEN. QUEEN. As in... Queen. Bohemian Rhapsody/We Are the Champions/Fat Bottom Girls/Another One Bites the Dust. Get it, got it, good (picture the hand motions please and thank you). I wanna kill myself. Not really, but kinda.

ps- the gypsy is pretty. buy her.

E: Wow. I am ashamed. I probably won't be able to look you in the eye for at least 20 minutes. I have been in the effing U.K. too long apparently because I'm like 'which one? Mary, Queen of Scots? Victoria? Elizabeth? There are so many! Oh, only kinda for you? I def wish I could scratch out my eyeballs about now. This. Sucks. Goo.

B: Queen is from England.

E: I hate you.

And so, with her approval, the crush continued at full-volume. The pursuit went something like this: All right, everyone, I don't really want anything for my birthday. The time in Scotland has been gift enough. And all I want is the gypsy anyways, but, really, I don't need anything. But if you're going to get me something, I just want the gypsy. But I don't want anything. Except for the gypsy. So don't get me anything. Promise? Okay, good. I may or not be a five-year-old. 

And, then, one fateful Saturday, there she was in the hospital lobby. And I cried. And, yes, I am very, very spoiled. I wish this kind of happiness and sheer, incandescent bliss on everyone. Do yourself a favor and just buy one.