Beware the Deflated Balloon - Tamar

Sunday was a beautiful fall day, cold because it was the end of November, but sunny and blue-skied. I wrapped myself up in coat, gloves, hat and scarf, and left Pauline in charge of Crafts'n'More to go for a wee walk to the Cannery Cafe to buy lunch - the best egg sandwich in the world - and pop into the Thrift Store to hunt for treasures.

Now, there are certain things we seem to do naturally as we walk - kick a stone, maybe, or step over a puddle or a curl of dog poop, stop and smell a rose. I discovered one thing, however, that one should never do, and I know I will never do it again.

It's okay to step on bubble wrap, or an empty potato chip bag - they give off satisfying sounds as you stroll along. But on this Sunday, when the sidewalk was filled with Sunday tourists and shoppers, I should never have stepped on a balloon.

I know it was only a balloon, a deflated little dark blue balloon with silver stars, but I didn't realize it had a smidgen of air left inside, so when I stepped on it, it released a loud, if not noxious, fart. It's really strange how many people didn't see the balloon, just the little round woman who stepped on it - and moved away with their noses averted. Meanwhile, I did what everyone does in these situations. I too scrunched up my nose and increased my speed, although my first instinct was to hold up the balloon and shout, "It wasn't me, it was this stupid balloon."

I guess I knew no one would believe it was a balloon, not when little old ladies are full of gas anyway. Usually. So I continued my walk, feeling as guilty as if I were the real culprit, a little bit wiser than when I left, a little more cautious as to what I would step on in the future.