Raindrops

A Short Story

2009-07-14T23:20:00.000-04:00

As I sat there enjoying the music at Celtfest, I chanced to look down to my legs. It was easy to do because, as the picture attests, I was wearing shorts, even though it turned out to a chilly day. That's pretty well what I do all summer long; it's my garb of choice. It's comfortable. It's summer.

If I were both sensitive and sensible, however, I should probably heretofore desist. Because as I gazed down, I beheld tiny little creases crossing my legs from side to side. Oh my! Wrinkles! For the sake of others if not for my own almost spent dignity, I really should change my sartorial habits, cover up, and continue on into my decline with a modicum of grace.

But I won't. And it's not the first time I've been a short rebel.

Fifty summers ago (exactly, I think), there came a hot summer day when I thought that it would be sensible to wear shorts. Of course, all I had of that particular article of clothing was my gym shorts. But, hey, they would do.

Well, apparently not. After I pedalled the three or four long blocks to my best friend's place to hang out for the afternoon, I became the object of scorn and derision for my fashion faux pas. It seems that AC was a little avant garde when it came to summer apparel, and shorts were most definitely not in at that point in history.

I was mocked and teased, and I didn't wear them again. The funny thing is that I don't recall being terribly embarrassed. It was as if I received a fashion lesson: that wearing shorts was not cool — even on a hot day. So, I desisted.

I suppose that I didn't wear shorts again for a few more years, but I changed and times changed, and pretty soon, they became my summer standard.

And despite my aging, wrinkled-ness, so they shall remain.

Note: I met up with that best friend about ten years ago now, in summer, and it strikes me that he was and no doubt still is a long pants guy. I wonder if that's so. He reads or used to read this blog, a lurker who has never commented. Perhaps he would like to report his current views. Eh, old friend.

Trash Talk

2009-07-08T08:30:00.001-04:00

What with having Nikki Dee over for two sleepovers on the weekend and with other goings on, I've been just a titch distracted and blog-unmotivated lately. Also, with Celtfest coming up on the weekend and visitors possibly arriving, the distractedness promises no letup.

I am so distracted, in point of fact, that I have had a merry time taking the garbage and recycling in and out. Last Wednesday was Canada Day, so there was no pickup, but, of course, I had put out the trash regardless. In my defense, so did most of our neighbours. Nevertheless ...

That might have been understandable seeing that it is our normal garbage day, and because we never know how they're going to deal with a holiday anyway. They might choose to show up on a holiday or on the very next day. Well, they did collect the trash on the next day, but not the blue boxes (recycling). After a day or so we neighbours figured it out, and most of us brought our blue boxes back in, out of sight. Most, but not all. Which is partly responsible for my subsequent confusion.

Come Monday evening, Cuppa had left a bag of kitchen garbage for me to put out in the bin. Well, along with the fact that some neighbours still had their recycling out, I got myself all confused, thought it was garbage night again, and took it all out to the curb. It didn't help that I was going out that night because we used to go out on Tuesday, garbage night, and I tend to associate going out with garbage night.

So, I took it all to the curb before Cuppa could ask me what the heck I was doing and set me straight. Back in it came.

As I said, I've been distracted. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

However, last night was the real night, and I'm happy to report that the third time is a charm. I got it out to the curb, and the blue boxes have already been seen to. Hooray!

Sorry to say it, but your posts are piling up, and there's a bunch that I might have to let go. Maybe I'll get back into the groove next week. If not ... well it's summer ... eh?

Be well while I try to gather my rather loose wits.

Council Letters

2009-07-02T06:00:00.000-04:00

I must fess up to filching this from ChrisB at MsCellania, but I can't help myself. I thought it was the funniest thing I have come across in a long time. I don't know when I last had an endorphin release like that.

Letters to the council

Some of this is nearly English: Sentences in letters written to councils in the UK

1.. It's the dogs' mess that I find hard to swallow

2.. I want some repairs done to my cooker as it has backfired and burnt my knob off.

3.. I wish to complain that my father burnt his ankle very badly when he put his foot in the hole in his back passage..

4.. And their 18 year old son is continually banging his balls against my fence.

5.. I wish to report that tiles are missing from the outside toilet roof. I think it was bad wind the other day that blew them off.

6..My lavatory seat is cracked, where do I stand?

7.. I am writing on behalf of my sink, which is coming away from the wall.

8.. Will you please send someone to mend the garden path. My wife tripped and fell on it yesterday and now she is pregnant.

9.. I request permission to remove my drawers in the kitchen.

10.. 50% of the walls are damp, 50% have crumbling plaster, and 50% are Plain filthy.

11.. I am still having problems with smoke in my new drawers.

12.. The toilet is blocked and we cannot bath the children until it is Cleared.

13..Will you please send a man to look at my water, it is a funny colour and not fit to drink.

14..Our lavatory seat is broken in half and now is in three pieces.

15..I want to complain about the farmer across the road.. Every morning at 6am his cock wakes me up and it's now getting too much for me.

16..The man next door has a large erection in the back garden, which is unsightly and dangerous.

17..Our kitchen floor is damp. We have two children and would like a third So please send someone round to do something about it.

18..I am a single woman living in a downstairs flat and would you please do something about the noise made by the man on top of me every night.

19..Please send a man with the right tool to finish the job and satisfy my wife.

20.. I have had the clerk of works down on the floor six times but I still have no satisfaction.

21.. This is to let you know that our lavatory seat is broke and we can't get BBC2.

22.. My bush is really overgrown round the front and my back passage has fungus growing in it.

23..He's got this huge tool that vibrates the whole house and I just can't take it anymore.

Showing the Flag

2009-07-01T06:00:00.002-04:00

With the exception of Canada Day and international hockey tournaments, we Canadians are not exactly a flag-waving bunch. It's not that we don't love and appreciate our country because we sure do, but we're not demonstrably fervent on a daily basis. Of course, we're just taking the typically under-stated Canadian approach to life.

But it is July 1st today, and that means that it is Canada Day and that flags aplenty will be waving. We have three hanging about here and there, but they'll all come down shortly because ... well, because that's what we do when it's not Canada Day or an international hockey tournament. This is the flag that I see at present in our backyard while gazing out our bedroom window.

Most of us will be wearing red and white, or at least red if we can't find any white. I took the following picture several years ago at a gathering at the kids' place, but today will offer similar shots in many a yard and park across the land.

While I'm at it, here's a bit more Canadiana for your troubles. On the weekend we were able to take in the RCMP Musical Ride. I didn't take this photo (see acknowledgment below), but it is from a similar event. Several dozen Mounties in their scarlet tunics performing with their black horses is quite a wonderful sight.

And very Canadian. Eh?

Taken by nikki-tate and posted on Flickr

Call Me Old-Fashioned

2009-06-29T06:00:00.001-04:00

In one or two ways, but only in one or two ways I'll have you know, I am a old-fashioned kind of guy. For example: when Cuppa and I go out walking, I must always be closest to the curb. This makes for fancy footwork as we cross streets and change directions, but I can't stop myself. Me on the inside simply feels all wrong. There's one local street which only has a sidewalk on one side, but that side keeps changing, so we are forever crossing over the road and doing our odd little dance.

It's all my mother's fault. I remember once walking with her in Montreal when I was still in elementary school. My favourite teacher and her beau approached, and horror of horrors, wasn't he walking on the inside? We said a polite hello, but Mom certainly had more to say to me as we walked away. In point of fact, she was scandalized, for in her world, and now mine, men always took the curb (or kerb) side.

Despite what I said above, it's not my mother's fault; I was just saying that. It's really Sir Walter Raleigh's fault, for it was supposedly he who lay his coat over a muddy puddle for a lady to walk upon in order not to soil her pretty shoes. It may have been Queen Elizabeth I, or it may not have been anybody at all but only the stuff of myth and legend. Who's to say?

Despite what I said above, it's not really Sir Wally's fault either (I keep doing that). It was the fault of the times, for according to the Trivia-Library: "In 16th-century England, the habit of emptying chamber pots out of upper-story windows into the gutter made a city stroll so hazardous that gentlemen gallantly took the side nearest the curb when walking with their ladies." Although this seems against modern logic because it would seem to put men further from the hurled refuse and the women closer to it, there's probably some truth to it because I have found it in more than one reference. We've seen pictures of old English houses partly jutting out over the street, so the inside may really have been more sheltered and safer for the ladies.

Personally, I would bet that this bit of etiquette became firmly entrenched in Victorian times when more people lived in cities and the streets were pretty dirty places, clogged with horses and their leavings. Being partially shielded from the excrement was probably one of the few perks of being female in that very paternalistic society. Dear old Mom, came along shortly after Queen Victoria expired, but the sensibilities of that time still lingered — and street cleanliness was still not exactly up to modern standards — not by a horse's patootie it wasn't.

Whatever the historical truth, I haven't had the dubious pleasure of having to protect my lady from either flying chamber pot excrement or splashing horse manure, but I still take the outside, for I simply must. It's been ingrained. If you think that makes me an old-fashioned kind of guy, so be it, but let me remind you that I'm not exactly sending this message to you by carrier pigeon or smoke signal.

Foto Friday

2009-06-26T09:30:00.000-04:00

We have tons of rather late Fathers Day photos today, but since I've missed a few Foto Fridays, perhaps I might be forgiven?

Actually, I begin with a few photos from the day before Fathers Day. Sorry, I can't help myself. We had been playing in her back yard. You can see bits and pieces of her new swing set in the background.

Now for Fathers Day itself. It began with a trip to Timmie's and taking our coffee and breakfast sandwich to the park.

But, of course, the real action was at the kids' house later in the day, beginning with a quick hug on arrival. I love Nikki Dee's enthusiastic greetings.

But most of the day was spent outdoors. Where else would you want to be on the first day of a Canadian summer? Nikki Dee loves her new swing.

Of course, there were gifts. Nikki Dee was in her modern art mode when she composed this card which speaks of tension and resolution in an atmosphere of love and respect within an imperfect world.

Accessories for the garden, either to walk on or display in some other way: the butterfly and ladybug are appropriate as they are totems (of a sort) of each of my two daughters.

The best gifts are those freely given. Fortunately, there were lots of hugs and snuggles on offer.

Grandfather Goose

2009-06-25T06:00:00.003-04:00

I know I'm really a gander, but nobody really uses the proper term. Besides, there was a famous film called Father Goose starring Cary Grant, no less, and if it's okay with the mighty and omniscient Hollywood ...

To the point: the diligent warding of the Canada Goose always impresses me. It seems that they are always on the job — ever watchful. (Aside: we were recently informed that mother goose can't even fly when the goslings are young. Must be true. Who would make it up?)

I often feel like Grandfather Goose as I shadow The Bonnie Wee One in potentially hazardous situations ... of which there are many. Like at the local park where we took her for the first time, especially when she wandered towards and into the river.

She had a grand time: loved the waterplay so much that her teeth were chattering.

Fortunately, she also loves the swing and was content to warm up for quite awhile.

Zach is a little young but managed to enjoy himself in his own way.

And didn't the clever fellow actually roll over for the first time that night? Apparently, Nikki Dee was so tired after her busy day that she fell asleep in her own swing at home.

BTW: only six months until Christmas.

Once More

2009-06-24T06:00:00.000-04:00

Last year around this time (actually earlier because they're both fading now) I posted two blogs. One about Dad's Forget-Me-Nots (seen above) and one about Audrey's Chives (seen below). Decades ago, about 500 miles away they were both transplanted to our garden, my Dad's flowers by his very own hands. Now, they continue to cling to life at two separate houses far, far away from where they began life. And they still remind me of Dad and Audrey who have since left us. Actually, the chives aren't clinging but thriving. However, Dad's flowers are annuals that must reseed, and they are down to three plants, two at Thesha's place and only one at ours. I tried to take care of the seeds last year, but nothing that I nurtured grew. Fortunately, a few fell into nooks and crannies, like in the rocks above, and we have the plants for one more year at least.

Fiddlin and Steppin

2009-06-23T06:00:00.000-04:00

Both stepdancing and fiddling have a large place in traditional Ottawa Valley culture. Previously, I've mentioned and shown clips of both. but we had never attended the Pakenham Fiddle and Stepdance Competition before. So we remedied that this past weekend.

All ages came from all around the province for the event. It must be nice, especially for the younger set, to get together with peers of similar interest and talent. Let's face it, this is a subculture that exists way under the radar of popular culture, so it must be helpful for the kids to know they're not alone, particularly those who come from an urban area such as Toronto.

In any event, a grand time was had by all. At the conclusion, around 11:30 Saturday night, the fiddlers and stepdancers who remained in the hall congregated on stage for an impromptu performance. The fiddlers are lost in the background, but the following short clip shows the stepdancers doing their thing. I'm glad we stayed for the finale. It always amazes me how both fiddlers and stepdancers can put on such a show without any preparation.

We Have Brain ... er ... Cramps

2009-06-22T09:00:00.000-04:00

A somewhat funny incident yesterday: after the Fathers Day ritual at Thesha's, we went up the street to help celebrate the birthday of Nikki Dee's best friend. As time went on, we could see that the kid was getting rather tired, so Cuppa suggested to me that we take her home and give her a bath and put her to bed. I was a bit surprised because we usually batten down the hatches before she arrives to run helter skelter all over the house creating all sorts of mayhem. But I was up for it if Cuppa was because we had recently mentioned that it was just about time for another sleepover.

As we ushered a somewhat reluctant and upset Nikki Dee (upset to be leaving the festivities) down the street, I cajoled her with the promise of a ride in the car. However, Cuppa was wondering what I was on about. You see, she had meant that we would be taking the kid to her home not our home. In the event Nikki Dee got a little ride, made all the more soothing by the playing of her Raffi CD. After the ride, we were back to where we began and she got to sleep in her own bed in her own house.

An even funnier recent incident: I was diligently looking for my pj's one night. They weren't in the usual spot, so I checked the other most likely places — to no avail. Somewhat perplexedly I repeated the cycle, for surely I had simply missed them. After a while, I happened to look down to notice that the colour of my T-shirt was what I normally wore for bed. Yup, I was already wearing my pj's. I had forgotten that I had already put them on. Scary eh?

A Shout Out ...

2009-06-21T09:30:00.001-04:00

... to my SIL on Fathers Day.

I know it's odd to come at a Fathers Day post by praising your son or SIL, but I think it's fitting today. While refraining from losing character by becoming overly maudlin and sentimental, I do want to pay tribute to this b man. I almost stumbled there and called him boy because he is compared to me, but he is The Man to his kids.

He is a good Daddy, a very good Daddy. He spends time with his little ones, and they adore him. When he recently had a little found money come to him, he did not run out and buy boy toys but spent it all on an expensive fence (remember the pics?) so his kids could play securely. With the little that was left, he then purchased a pretty grand playset and then spent many uncomplaining hours putting the thing together.

Not only is he a great dad but he's a pretty fair SIL too. However, in that role he is and forever will be known as The Boy.

Bugs, Campfires and Bread

2009-06-18T06:40:00.000-04:00

What with two lots of company, babysitting and illnesses, it's been a hectic and draining few weeks here in Anvilcloudia. So, it was that both Cuppa and I luxuriated in the quietude of a slow-paced Monday. The only real item on the agenda was for me to attend a jam session on Monday evening, something that is hardly a chore. However, at the event, fatigue caught up with me, and I found my brain beginning to shut down less than halfway through the session. Cuppa has an expression: "It feels likes someone has pulled the plug and I'm circling the drain," and for almost the first time that expression seemed aptly descriptive of my Monday evening letdown.

However, on the way home I found solace in the knowledge that Tuesday should have been another fairly relaxing day as should the next few after it. Alas, I came home to the news that Althegal was very anxious to get to the cottage on the next day and would really like to meet us there. Of course, since get-togethers are few with our west coast daughter, we knew we'd make the effort.

Come Tuesday morning the p[lot thickened when Thesha called letting us know that Zach was sick and wondering if we could we babysit Nikki Dee during Zach's medical appointment. Shortly after, we heard further news from Althegal. They would be getting to the cottage around three o'clock and would need us to supply the key. Meanwhile, Cuppa also had a hair appointment, so we couldn't leave until about three, but we promised to get there as soon as we could. After all ...

... which of you, if his son makes a request for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he makes a request for a fish, will give him a snake?(Mathew 7:9-10, Bible in Basic English)

So, off we went on a three-hour drive into the Canadian hinterland to offer our hapless white but succulent bodies to both the black flies and the mosquitoes. In less than twenty-four hours we fellowshipped with the girls around the table, in the sunporch, and by the campfire, before tiredly journeying the three hours back home with much less blood flowing in our veins. However, we felt good in the knowledge that we had made the effort to be there for our kid and also to support the insect population of the forest with aour blood. Yes, we were leaving many happy and sated bugs behind. I felt sure that I could glimpse them in the rearview mirror waving contentedly and languidly on their blood-induced high as we pulled away.

But more importantly than donating our blood, we also gave our daughter bread rather than a stone, and isn't that what parents are supposed to do?

Following: a few photos around the campfire. Bug jackets are prevalent in some, and some are taken by holding a flashlight in one hand and the camera in the other. The perpetrator of the event, Althegal, is the subject of the first photo and manages to get into most of them. The little fellow, bug-jacketed from almost head to toe, in the last photo is her nephew by marriage.

The Peripatetic Toddler

2009-06-15T06:00:00.002-04:00

This child is a roamer, and we have found that it's best to not try to confine her too much because she knows what interests her and is too young to understand why she can't investigate.

Her peripatetic tendencies continued this past week when we all went to the mill for a picnic lunch and stroll in the woods.

Her wandering commenced even during lunch, and we took turns trying to steer her back to the family fold. This time, it was Mom's turn (below).

The harness comes in quite handy with her. She still gets around but is more susceptible to a little bit of guidance (below). "Yes, you can climb onto the bench. No, you can't climb over the back."

She is quite the tease, and is laughing at Amma's attempt to haul her back in after managing to scamper across the bridge.

I resumed the reigns for a walk in the woods, but when she decides that something in the path is worthy of her attention, she just flops down, and I wait.

The path meanders alongside the river, and this distressed her greatly because when she see's water, she wants to get at it — right away if not sooner. Although the bank was too steep for the most part, mercifully, we eventually found a way down. She was not at all reluctant to get right in — shoes and all.

Even so, I thought it better to remove her shoes because I didn't feel much like swimming downstream to retrieve them should the current sweep them off her feet. (If currents can sweep, that is.)

Later, it was the aunties' turn to direct her path, so to speak. She's not really sticking her tongue out, just working it as both she and her Buppa are prone to do.

Of course, she's always gadding about. The very next day at home, she donned her purse, Amma's sandals and announced, "Outside." So, outside it was.

For some reason though, it became Buppa's responsibility to carry the purse for a while.

Occasionally, the peripatetic toddler stops for a brief respite.

And that is good.

Moi the Canvas

2009-06-14T06:00:00.004-04:00

In the past she's painted my head for Christmas because it makes such a large empty canvas, but I guess that was no longer enough for her. So she thought she'd have a go a dying my beard this time. Just the small gray patch below my lip. Everyone else, meaning Cuppa and Thesha, were being daring after all, and I wasn't about to play Mr Partypoopingchicken.

It coulda been worse.

And after a shower, it became quite faint.

Cuppa's two patches are much bigger and are sticking rather well, but I'll leave it for her to post. Meanwhile, here is the culprit-painter.

Does it all make sense now?

Aargh!

2009-06-13T06:00:00.000-04:00

I guess if all my frustrations in life remain as small as this one, I'll have it made in the shade, but really now.

I finally find a place that will sharpen lawnmower blades and ante up the rather exorbitant $16+ (but it's okay because that includes tax — Ha!). On the second mowing after this super duper sharpening job (I must admit that they did a good job), didn't I run over that blankety-blank raised water valve in the front yard, the one that I've been able to steer around for the past two years after learning slowly, very slowly, in our first two years here?

And then, if that isn't enough, didn't I run over the part of a rusty hanger that the guys so thoughtfully left behind after planting that new tree out back? And then, didn't I run over a second piece of hanger?

Guess who needs to have his lawnmower blade sharpened?

Guess who' absolutely refuses to do it until he buries that valve better? Or has a brain transplant?

She

2009-06-12T09:30:00.000-04:00

She is kind enough to share my piece of Daddy's birthday cake with me.

I take her home from a visit and stand to leave. To prevent this, she closes the front door and leads me by the hand to the back yard.

We are at the park for a family picnic. She runs to me, hugs my leg, and says the magic words, "I love you." She doesn't know what they mean, but they touch me deeply.

She is the one whom I name like I have named no other. I name her honey, darling, sweetheart: words which are not, were not in my vocabulary. I don't know why; they just weren't.

I have loved and love them all, Cuppa, the children and their spouses, and they know this, but it seems that she somehow touches me in a place that is specially and uniquely hers and makes me different in some way.

Posting on the Fly

2009-06-10T10:48:00.002-04:00

We're managing to keep busy, but here are a few more pics from the weekend for those who check for these sorts of updates.

We Have Company

2009-06-08T06:00:00.001-04:00

The A Team is visiting from the Left Coast for a few days, so you probably won't hear from me very much except to post pictures. Fortunately, for me if not for you, I have a bunch at hand, especially of Nikki Dee who was exceedingly cute at Daddy's birthday party on the weekend. Zach had his share of cute moments too.

A Birthday

2009-06-07T06:00:00.001-04:00

A certain little fella turned four months old this past week. He changed a lot this month. He's grown a lot and is so much more alert.

Daddy also celebrated a birthday this week.

Take Three

2009-06-06T06:00:00.000-04:00

It's done: done for this year, at least. In the latest and final round, I have planted whatever it is I'm going to plant this year and have mulched.

It doesn't look like much, but, hopefully, it will emerge as something worthwhile over time. As I posted previously, there are lots of petunias in there that should fill out in another month or two. Today I added perennials that will look good in the years to come ... knock on wood.

I went to the local grocery store (a YIG for those who understand the short form) which actually has a pretty fair perennial section, better than Wal-Mart or Home Depot or Canadian Tire which is the local competition. I chose plants of the lavender, pink, blue and white shades and stayed away from yellows, oranges and reds. It's not that I have anything against the latter, but we're trying to go with a bit of a colour scheme. So, I picked what I could from their stock, planted it, and now hope for the best. It wasn't necessarily the assemblage that I might have gathered had I had all of the choice in the world, but I did my best under the circumstances. For example: most, except the phlox at the front are summer flowers; I had hoped to include asters for later colour but couldn't find any, and I didn't think sedum, which they did have, would fit very well in this particular garden.

I've had a perennial garden before and know that I will probably change my mind a lot once I see how the garden begins to take shape. Sometimes, reality turns out to be different than what your mind's eye envisages in the designing stage, and one has to be adaptable. For example, the campanula is in front of the echinacea right now, but it may turn out to be taller, so those two could be switched at some point, or I could move one or the other out of this bed completely.

Here's a labelled photograph for those who know plants and/or are interested. Where there is both a Latin name and a common name, the Latin comes first. Clicking will give you a somewhat larger version.

It's not much, but it's a start and should be a big improvement on the disaster that has been our lawn and garden since we moved here ... and for many years before that, I venture to guess. Hopefully this bed will just be the start of a larger plan, but I have to be careful because I know from past experience that gardens can become more of a burden than a pleasure if you get carried away with grand plans.

Foto Friday

2009-06-05T06:00:00.000-04:00

We took the Bonnie Wee One shopping in town with us the other day. Cuppa thought she was pretty cute walking along beside me holding the bag.

She fell asleep on the way home in the car, so we drove many miles out of our way, so she wouldn't wake up too soon. Have you ever done that?

I a CSI

2009-06-04T06:00:00.002-04:00

I've gone and done it again.

You might recall the funny glasses that I purchased on our last shopping trip into the city. Just in case you're suffering from an advanced case of oldtimer's disease or you are new here, I present this famous photo that I presented on Making a Spectacle of Myself.

Well, they've been working so well, that I decided that I could use even more illumination in my life.

Before you conclude that AC has gone completely bonkers, permit me to tell my little story.

You see, summer is almost here, and any day now, Cuppa will turn on the fans, and they will run almost non-stop until sometime in September. Most of these fans, at least in our upstairs, are ceiling fans. In other words, they are connected to lights which are connected to switches at the relevant doorways.

Well then: obviously, one simply cannot run lights at all times, especially since most are either in bedrooms or where they can be seen from bedrooms. And so it comes to pass that every summer, whislt my beloved sleeps, I must prowl in the dark because I am not about to go running willy nilly in search of dangling chains to turn on lights. Anyway ... how would I begin to see such chains in the pitch black if I were to wish to yank them? My life is difficult beyond measure, I tell ya.

And so, I have purchased my own personal, little CSI light and can now stealth about like Dr Gil Grissom and company. Actually, mine should be termed a CSITD (Can't See in the Dark) light or maybe CSITDN (Can See in the Dark Now) light. Either way, it works for me.

If you need someone to gather any deep, dark evidence on your behalf, just get in touch.

Camp Day

2009-06-03T06:00:00.001-04:00

I trust all you good Canadians will be going to Tim Hortons today, more than once if you possibly can. This is the day that the revenue from coffee sales goes to support their regional camps. We'll pretty well start the day there. We'll be taking The Bonnie Wee One along with us to buy kosher food in town for an upcoming distinguished guest, and our trips into town always begin at Timmy's. In fact our trips to anywhere begin there. It's the altar at which Cuppa worships and is renewed. Praise be. We could drive all of the way out west or down east, which we have, and the biggest thrill for Cuppa would be starting at Tim's ... and then hitting as many as possible. I drink extra large, double cream in a travel mug. What about you?

Enough Already

2009-06-02T09:15:00.000-04:00

Seriously folks: enough is enough. It's the second day of June already, but I'm tempted to turn the furnace on as I sit here in my winter jacket and woolly socks. When we've only a few weeks to go until summer officially begins, is a modicum of warmth too much to ask?

...

I've now peeked at the forecast, and it appears that the worst is over and that more seasonable temperatures are on the way. If I can just survive a few more hours without losing limbs to frostbite ...

Difficult Partings

2009-05-31T16:00:00.002-04:00

We have great trouble leaving Nikki Dee these days because goodbye's upset her so much. It's hard to know what to do; often, we'll try to sneak out to prevent her from having a meltdown, but we don't want to lose her trust either. Yet, if we do leave with normal goodbyes she'll wail pitifully and want desperately to come with us. She'll find her shoes and bring them to us with so much hope in her heart. This sometimes works as it's really really tough to let this darling kid down.

Yesterday, she somehow picked up the cue that we would be going in a little while because she was getting her shoes and jabbering about the car well before we had made any sort of tangible move. I'm not sure exactly what the cue was, but she's a very clever little girl to have figured it out.

Mom and Amma got her out to the car before me, and this is the sight that greeted me when I arrived to take my place behind the wheel. There she was sitting in the driver's seat wearing Buppa's jaunty cap and sunglasses.

Oddly enough, even though she clearly wanted to come with us, she still had some mournful farewells for her parents. As we were driving up the street, there was a repeated, "Bye Daddy, bye mommy." Soon, however, Cuppa started up her Raffi CD, and Nikki Dee smiled happily and got into her Raffi groove. Let's hear it for Baby Beluga in the Deep Blue Sea.

I don't know how we're all going to be able to deal with partings in the future because I don't expect that it's going to get any easier.

However, I do trust that she will leave the driving to me for about another fourteen years.