When we were still in Alaska, Jay and I bought some model rockets. He finished building his about two years ago. I finished mine last week.

I built a mini Space Ship One, complete with decals and parachute deployment system. Suffice it to say ... it's TOTALLY WICKED. I mean sure, it doesn't launch to heights of 3000 feet (like ... say ... oh, I don't know ... that of a certain husband) but with her slick red paint job, she's a sight to behold.

We went to the local ball fields, which have two full sized all-weather soccer fields, a good 400 metre diametre of flat, open launch area. We took our requisite model rocket standard pose photos ...

... and then got down to the good part.

We brought a total of four rockets with us: Jay's rocket from when he was a kid (an older, high school kid ... but when you are approaching 30, anything more than ten years ago qualifies as having happened "when I was a kid"); my Space Ship One and Jay's two new rockets, a small one and the other one. Which other one? The one that has three stages and launches to 3000 feet? Yeah, THAT other one.

We decided to launch his old one first as a test flight to see which way the winds were blowing. Seeing as I was a model-rocket-launching virgin, he let me push the button:

OH. MY. GOD. How come no one told me about this in the first three decades of my life? Hello, Girl Guides? Yeah ... ummm ... WHY WAS THERE NO MODEL ROCKET LAUNCHING BADGE WHEN I WAS A KID? We could have been out there participating in the exciting world of model rocketry and instead you give us the option of a freakin' Bannock Making badge? I still don't know what exactly bannock is ...

This little gem launched straight up, a beautiful, perfect flight to several hundred feet, where the ejection charge ignited and popped the top off to deploy the parachute for a nice, smooth landing ... NOWHERE WITHIN OUR 400 METRES OF SOCCER FIELDS.

Yeah, so the stupid thing launched up, over our heads and instead of heading toward the 400 METRES OF CLEAR SPACE ahead of us, decided that the 50 metres of brush, trees, stream and highway BEHIND US would be a much better landing area.

Yeah ... sooo ... moving on to the next rocket ...

After adjusting the angle of the launch pad, Jason did a single-stage test launch of his big rocket, which went flawlessly, and the rocket came back down in one piece, in our intended landing area.

Confident in the launch angle and wind direction we decided it was Space Ship One's turn.

I was a little nervous ... but just like me, my baby was meant to fly.

After adjusting my safety glasses (hey, I paid good money for these eyes ... ), attaching the igniter wires and making my launch announcements to the empty park, I started my countdown ... and ...

BLAST-OFF.

It was TOTALLY AWESOME. Space Ship One cruised to a good 700 or 800 feet and then deployed it's parachute and came floating back down, albeit at a higher speed than I expected. But she was coming back down to the fields ... I held my breath and ran towards her landing spot, fully expecting her to shatter into a million pieces when she hit the ground, but, no, she just settled into the gravel, her parachute fluttering in the wind.

No longer a rocket virgin, my confidence high and my enthusiasm building, I set for another launch. This baby could fly!

So ... yeah ... ummm ... I don't have a rocket anymore ...

Somewhere along the treeline of Highway 99 next to Brennan Park Fields, two lone little rockets are dangling by their plastic parachutes from the branches of the 70-foot high pine trees.

Oh my beautiful Space Ship One, I hardly knew ye. But better you rest among the trees than collect dust among my shelves. I bid you adieu.

Oh my god.

I just realized.

I'm a geek.