Today was 30°C in the GTA. The hot where the sun feels like it’s sitting in your lap, and you stop pretending you don’t want a Drumstick ice cream cone for lunch. I had my sunglasses and summer music on, and then it hit me: the bubble craving.
You know the one—that deep, inexplicable urge to fill the sky with shimmering, floating spheres of joy. I went to the closet, pulled out my trusty bubble machine from last year, and… nothing. Dead. Not even a sputter. I fiddled with the batteries, turned it upside down, and blew into it like it was a vintage NES cartridge, but nope. It was gone.
Enter the hero of the day: my new Gazillion Bubbles Bubble Rush machine.
Let me say that Gazillion Bubbles is the real deal. I’ve tested other brands—some too watery, some smell weird, others barely make a few bubbles—but Gazillion? Always thick, floaty, beautiful bubbles that catch the light like tiny crystal balls. Their formula is just better. I don’t care what science says. You can try to convince me there’s no difference, but I will always know in my soul that there is. Here’s their website if you’re curious or need to see for yourself.
I ordered the new machine on Instacart like a person possessed. The delivery driver thought I had kids at home. Nope, it’s just me and Lily. My dog. The actual bubble addict in this house.
Lily is an 11-year-old rescue who still moves like a puppy when the bubbles come out. She hears that first hum of the machine turning on, and boom—ears perk up, the tail starts wagging, and she’s instantly in the zone. She’ll sprint, leap, twist in mid-air, tongue flapping, chasing every single one like it holds the secrets of the universe. She once head-butted a garden barrel chasing a big bubble that floated off course. The gnome didn’t survive, but Lily was very proud.
The new Gazillion machine is an upgrade in all the right ways. First off, it’s rechargeable. No more replacing AA batteries like I’m stocking a remote control museum. Just plug it in, charge it up, and you’re ready to go. A full charge lasted me well over an hour today, and that’s with the machine running non-stop. Honestly, that one feature alone is a game-changer.
It’s also still super portable, just like my old one. I can toss it in a tote and bring it anywhere—picnic at the park, a friend’s backyard BBQ, even up north for weekends at the cottage. I’ve learned over the years that people don’t realize how much they need bubbles in their lives until they suddenly surround them. It makes everyone stop. Look up. Smile. It’s as if it unlocks a childhood instinct that most people have forgotten they had.
There’s something about bubbles that hits a particular emotional note for me. Maybe it’s the way they shimmer—iridescent and temporary. Perhaps it’s the gentle chaos of them—hundreds of perfect orbs swirling unpredictably on a breeze. Or maybe it’s just that they’re fun. There is no hidden agenda, no goal to achieve—just joy for the sake of pleasure.
And yes, I fully recognize that I’m a grown adult who gets excited about bubble solution delivery. But I’ve also spent enough years doing serious things—deadlines, bills, meetings, emails with “circling back” in them—to know that you need a little magic in your day. Bubbles give me that. They turn my backyard into a playground. They make my dog wild with happiness. They make me laugh out loud, alone, with no screen or punchline required.
Plus, watching bubbles float through a heatwave afternoon is the definition of summer. Today, I sat in the shade with cold water in my Stanley, Lily sprinting through the lawn like a tiny linebacker, and the air filled with bubbles. Some drifted up high and popped against the sky. Others landed on the lawn and shimmered until they burst. One stuck to Lily’s nose for a solid five seconds before she cross-eyed it into oblivion.
And the best part? No clean-up. No mess. Just turn off the machine, recharge it for next time, and you’re done. If you’ve never used a bubble machine before—especially a Gazillion one—you have to try it. The output is insane. Do you think you’ve seen many bubbles before? Wait until this thing kicks into gear. It’s not just a handful—it’s a full-on storm. You don’t even need wind. It creates its breeze from the sheer volume.
People walking by my house will often stop and stare when the bubbles are going. I don’t even care. Let them think I’m throwing a kid’s birthday party. If they ask, I say, “Nope, this is just a Tuesday.”
Bubbles are cheap joy. And I don’t mean “cheap” in a bad way—I mean accessible. Uncomplicated. They cost a few bucks, but the happiness they create is worth way more. No app recreates that feeling. There is no filter, no soundtrack, no algorithm—just good old-fashioned wonder.
And that’s why I love bubbles so much.
They remind me that happiness can be simple. Sometimes, the best part of a scorching hot day in the summer isn’t the AC or iced coffee—it’s the unexpected arrival of a new bubble machine on your doorstep. It’s your dog leaping into the air like she’s in an action movie. It’s the smell of summer, the sound of whirring gears, and a sky full of floating joy.
I’ll end on this: if you’re having a rough day or need a reset, get yourself a bottle of Gazillion Bubbles and go nuts. Blow them from a balcony. Please bring them to the beach. Or turn on your machine and let the magic handle itself. You might feel silly for a minute, but I promise—by the third or fourth bubble, you’ll remember exactly why this matters.
And if you’re lucky, you’ll have a Lily of your own to share it with.
Picture 1: Gigi decided to drive for a while. Picture 2: pure ecstasy. . . . . #joeysndgigidrive #hangingoutthewindow #dogjoy (at Madison, New Jersey) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCaDtI8j2KG/?igshid=13wpahyusu1lj
