Sunday, November 30, 2008

Of Mysteries and the Old Country

Sadly, in my recent night of little sleep, I finished Deborah Crombie's, Water Like a Stone. Although, it's only the penultimate (at the moment) episode of her Kincaid/James series, I had already recently read her most recent tome, Where Memories Lie. Aside from her plots and writing ability, one thing I do like about the Kincaid/James series is that the two protagonists are two relatively normal and decent people in a good relationship. They're not quite as dysfunctional or offbeat as many mystery heroes.

Except for the most recent hot-off-the press release of All the Colours of Darkness, by Peter Robinson, I am also current with Inspector Banks. I imagine that I'll be getting hold of that one soon, but then what? It's not as though I can readily turn to another fave, Elizabeth George, because I've already read her latest Thomas Lynley novel, Careless in Red. Sigh. And I think that Martha Grimes is turning away from her Richard Jury series; at least she's going in other directions lately.

I know there are other series out there, such as Ruth Rendell's, Inspector Wexford, but I tend to lose track of where I am with her as every second novel is a non-Wexford. She's a great writer, perhaps the best of the lot, but I find her non-Wexford novels a bit dark and don't prefer them. And don't tell me about PD James' Inspector Dalgleish either because, aside from her latest, The Private Patient, I've also been there and done that. Double sigh. I've recently mentioned Rhys Bowen and especially her Evan Evans character, so perhaps I can excavate that mine for awhile, but beyond that I'm ever so slightly stuck as I'm not a huge fan of Reginald Hill or Ian Rankin. They're just okay for me (to quote my least favourite America Idol judge).

There is something strange about the first four authors that I mentioned: Crombie, George, Grimes, and Robinson. Except for Robinson, they're all Americans who have chosen to stage their mysteries in what my English grandmother used to call "The Old Country," which was a confusing expression to me when I was a kid. Even Peter Robinson is or was an expat Brit living in Canada although he now spends part of the year back in Yorkshire. Nevertheless, while he had primarily resided in Canada, he has placed Inspector banks firmly in Yorkshire. It makes me wonder if these authors have also appeal to those true Brits on the other side of the pond or if they prefer genuine British authors? Perhaps the authors that I have mentioned write in a manner more appealing to us colonials?

Somehow, both to me and these authors, mysteries set in The Old Country seem to work better than the typical American style mystery where a lone hero tends to drink too much and live out of seedy motel rooms while s/he single-handedly brings the perps to justice in an almost super heroic way. However, I've recently mentioned Canadian, Louise Penny, who is different: a Canadian who writes in a Canadian setting and does it quite well. Her Inspector Gamache who always seems to end up in the charming hamlet of Three Pines, has an old world charm and works with a competent team and is not exactly John Wayne riding into town on a white horse to make everything right again all on his own.

The point of all this? Very little. I have nothing to read!! Help!!!

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Sometimes, It's Hard Being Me

I am a strange duck. You see, I'm sick and up: up at 2:30 AM after hardly sleeping last night and being on babysitting duty most of the day and evening. On one hand I'm dead tired, and on the other I'm wired. How you can be both at the same time, I know not.

Most normal people sleep when they're sick. It's Nature's pathway to rejuvenation. At least that's what I have been told and what I have observed in other people. Our youngest, for example, had a great knack of sleeping it off. She'd feel poorly, have a long, long nap and bounce back as fresh as a daisy.

I remember once coming down with a very bad flu, and when the doctor said that I needed to rest and sleep, I told him then what I am am telling you now. He assured me that with the meds he was giving me, I'd be sure to sleep. Newsflash: the doctor was wrong!

Sigh. Sometimes, it's hard being me. But I'm going to go back to bed and try again.

Friday, November 28, 2008

Foto Friday

A few weeks ago, while I was engaged elsewhere, Cuppa and Mom went to a craft show where Cuppa persuaded Mom that Nikki Dee would like this little stool. Boy! Was she right or what?! At least once a day she'll lead one of us by the hand to the bathroom. We'll move the stool to the sink, run a little water into the basin, and she'll have a grand time splashing, brushing her hair, and jabbering at her reflection. And can she ever jabber!

I know that it doesn't show, but I love this kid.

Check out Cuppa's blog later today (if you're here early) for more pictures and a fuller, richer commentary. She has some shots of the reflection too.


For the fourth consecutive morning, I found myself shovelling snow before I left the house. However, it was rather pretty, and I stopped to take these on the way to Nikki Dee's.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

It Hath Begun

As Nikki Dee looks out upon the scene, I'm here to tell you that winter has arrived. I shovelled four times in the past two days. It's not like I'm tossing heaps of snow above my head yet — more like I'm pushing and scraping — but I've still had to get out there. When it came this early last year, I didn't expect it to last without a break until sometime in April, but that's what happened as the Ottawa area came within an inch or two of breaking their snowfall record. I and Nikki Dee wonder what's in store this time around.

Monday, November 24, 2008

A Little Lesson

Sometimes, something is much, much better than nothing. This frame was one of my Christmas gifts last year; at least I think it was for Christmas.

It seemed like a fitting gift for someone who likes to dabbles with photographs, especially if working with older photos is part of the hobby.

But it sat in my cupboard until last night when for some reason I decided that I should stay up until midnight after a busy weekend and do something useful with it. So, I grabbed six photos, mostly of my grandparents.

It wasn't what I intended while I was letting the frame sit empty in my cupboard for eleven months. I had intended to extend back to great grandparents and onward to grandchildren. But one can only do so much with only six spots to fill, and I wanted to do something, so here it is (again).

That's my paternal grandmother with my father in the top left and with me bottom centre. My paternal grandfather is top left and also top center with me and my dad. Bottom left: with my one and only uncle (Dad was an only child and Mom just had one brother who didn't marry). Bottom right: with my maternal grandfather and his dog, Skippy. My maternal grandmother didn't make it into this mix; she died when I was two years old. Photos do exist, but I haven't scanned any yet; I simply used some that I had already processed.

As I said, it's not what I had intended, but it's a whole lot better than hiding empty in my cupboard. I guess there's a lesson there (I'm still learning them). Sometimes, something is better than nothing; you can't always wait on perfection because you might be waiting for an awful long time.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Busy Times

These weekends come and go very quickly, especially when we do a lot of travelling and visiting in three short days.

On Friday we drove to see The Professor and Marianne (Cuppa's brother and wife) near Peterborough. Surprisingly, they had more snow than we do near Ottawa (although we don't have any right now). They live in a gorgeous house in a gorgeous spot nestled in the woods (but not deep if you know what I mean). They have big window views all over the place. Here are two from the same window, one focussing on a Christmas ornament and the other not. Pretty eh?

From there we headed to Toronto or near enough to visit with Treebeard and Turtlestack (Cuppa's sister, who is less stacked these days, and her husband). In the evening we headed out in the bitter cold (-10°C/15°F, wich seemed mighty cold to a bald-headed, hatless man in November) to be warmed by the energy of Great Big Sea. They are a rollicking folk group from Newfoundland who really connect with the audience as you will be able to tell in this clip of one their old standbys, The Night Pat Murphy Died. They start slowly, so give it a minute or so for them to really get into it if you choose to watch the clip.

It was on the hectic and tiring side, but it's good to get out and to be doing too. Anyway, back to Nikki Dee and all of her wonder tomorrow!

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Odd Couple

Cuppa and I are an odd couple, indeed. I just stole into our bedroom where she's been sleeping for hours. That's one odd thing about us; she needs a ton of sleep these days and gets it while I need hours less and get even less than I need.

Anyway, I stole in and left four sheets of photographs by her bedside. Each sheet contains four 3x5 photos of the wedding. I had almost forgotten that she wants these to take with us on the weekend. I did four per sheet to save on paper and ink as these photos will serve a temporary function. In other words, I'll print up more, better ones later ... sometime before I die ... maybe ... at least that's the intent. The relevant point here is that she needs me to handle these kinds of tasks for her. If she needs a photo printed or blogged, I set it up for her. She could possibly learn this art, but it would not flow easily.

While that's not odd in itself, you might think it strange that I also carried in several loose objects that I want her to box up for me. You see, finding boxes and packaging objects inside of them is not one of the things that I excel at: not that I excel at very many things really. I could possibly learn this art, but it would not flow easily.

This is how we muddle through life in some sort of unspoken dance to which only we know the steps. Cuppa does what she does, and I do what I do, and as a couple we somehow get done what needs doing. When we go somewhere, as we will this weekend, I'll do the macro planning of routes and money and things while she figures out what we need to take, and what we should do with the cat, and who should keep an eye on the place and so on. Believe it or not, she has template lists on the computer for these sorts of getaways. These are not short lists!

Not too long ago, when I was over at the kids' place alone one morning to tend to Nikki Dee, I had to ask SIL to remind me about working their infernal coffee maker. He shook his head resignedly as he pondered me and my request and said, "You and grandma; you can't live without her, and she can't live without you."

True dat.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Listing Things

We had our snow tires installed today. It started to snow about two hours later.

We have a tiny backyard in which the former goofball owner planted two maple trees. They will removed tomorrow while they're still on the small side. A wise man once advised me to "Take care of your problems while they're still little." So we are. One hates to cut down trees, but I think this has to be done.

I had a fiddle lesson today, the first in six months. The teacher thought I sounded better than I did then. I was glad to hear that. Progress is slow, but she was able to notice an improvement after not hearing me for so long. Thank goodness for that. Sometimes, I wonder about my sanity in all of this; sometimes, I think I'm crazy even to be trying to fight this uphill battle. Think of immigrants learning a new language. The kids are speaking fluently withing six months to a year; most parents will speak with an accent for their whole lives; the grandparents are usually a lost cause. As you know, I'm a grandparent.

After years of not paying attention, I have started to follow hockey again in the last few years. My team, the Montreal Canadiens was supposed to be good this year. They're not. Not yet anyway. They are the most successful hockey franchise in history, but have fallen on hard times recently. However, they've been improving in the past few years, and we loyal fans thought that they would be contenders in this their 100th anniversary. So far, so bad.

This weekend we are heading to Toronto to visit relatives and take in a Great Big Sea concert. They're an upbeat Newfoundland group. It should be good to hear them once more, the last time being eight years ago (I think). We'll also see Cuppa's brother and wife, and then her sister (Turtlestack) along with her husband (Treebeard) and daughter (Sare). Sare, is just back from Korea and expecting her first child in another month or so. It will be a boy as will our next grand. There will only be about a month between them. I wonder how often they will meet though, especially if she settles back in Korea.

I believe that Andropause is real. I seem to suffer from hot flashes through much of the night lately. When I get up in exasperation, the house is cold enough that I cool down rapidly, but once I lie down again, I heat right back up again, sometimes without any covers on. Cold standing; hot lying. Crazy.

Cuppa and I finished our latest book last night: Misquoting Jesus: The Story Behind Who Changed the Bible and Why. It's written by Bart Ehrman who, like I, is a former evangelical. It's a very readable book if you're interested in Christianity: written for the layperson but very informative. However, if you believe in plenary inspiration and wish to keep believing in it, don't read the book. Plenary inspiration is the belief held by many evangelicals, that God inspired every word that we read in scripture and that there are no mistakes. What I didn't know until I read this book is that it's a relatively new doctrine, probably less than a century old and has not been the view of most Christians at most times.

In my fiction reading, I've recently read Louise Penny's Still Life. She's a Canadian mystery writer who sets her stories, at least those that I have read so far, in the Eastern Townships of Quebec. She's a very good writer although she may need to learn not to go overboard in her endings. I've also read two novels by Rhys Bowen. Apparently, she has several series on the go. One features Evan Evans a young police detective in Wales. Another revolves around Lady Victoria Georgiana Charlotte Eugenie in the 1930's, a woman who is thirty-fourth in line to the throne. I enjoyed both Evan and Georgiana; they're both lighter than many British mysteries, but I liked both of the protagonists and plots. I've also read several Martha Grimes mysteries lately; she's a good reliable standby. Oh ... I almost forgot Deborah Crombie's, Where Memories Lie. I don't know why I almost forgot it because I may have liked that one best of all.

Finally (much to everyone's relief), we usually buy one new Christmas CD every year. This year it's Loreena McKennit's, A Midwinter Night's Dream. If you are looking for something seasonal but different and enjoyable, give Loreena a try. For Canadians, we found this CD on sale for $15 at the nearest Chapters store; it's listed for $23 at Amazon Canada and $17 online at Chapters.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Two Funny Pics

I've been going through a few more wedding photos and thought I would post these two that make me smile. The boy is Puff's nephew, and I guess you know who the girl is. Or maybe not because it's not Nikki Dee's usual look. I'm not sure how I'd caption that expression. Does she look drunk? Comedic? Put out? All of the above?

Next are the mothers of the brides. You might wonder what they were on, but I assure you, it was just life. The really crazy one is my beloved Cuppa.

Friday, November 14, 2008

... and along came a Spyder

For the amateur photographer, the art and science of correlating your monitor with your printer is plunge into the depths of the arcane. There are many variables: monitor, printer, and paper. And once you have those ducks all lined up, you have to figure out how to tell them to quack on cue.

In case you are wondering, all our monitors are different, and everyone sees everyone's pictures somewhat differently. I have no idea how you see my photos, for example. I can only hope for the best. When I print my own photos, however, I'd like to have some assurance that they will come out more or less the way that I want them too.

So it was that I finally fell off my wallet and ordered a Spyder. At $200 smackers, it's a little pricey, but if you share the cost with another photographic pilgrim, it becomes somewhat bearable.

Once you install the software, you hang the device on your monitor as shown below, and ...

... you run the program which flashes various whites, blacks, grays and reds, greens and blue (monitors interpret red, green and blue, which is why they are sometimes called RGB monitors). The device reads what shades your monitor flashes as opposed to what it's supposed to flash and then calibrates the appropriate corrections and loads them every time you start your computer.

In my case, among other parameters (I suppose), the corrected view is much less bright. Which makes sense because, I usually had to brighten my photos before printing as they would print duller than what I saw on the screen (before adjusting brightness for printer).

While I have yet to work my way through configuring Photoshop, paper and printer to take advantage of my newly calibrated monitor, I feel as though I have taken an important first step.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

The Couple Poses

I managed to get back to wedding photos this week. It was a great day.

The Couple Poses

The Couple Poses

The Couple Poses

The Couple Poses

The Couple Poses

The Couple Poses

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Winter's Coming. Eh?

ND seems to be over whatever was ailing her for a fairly long stretch. She didn't nap well for awhile, and, when baby doesn't nap, we all get tired. But she went down for two and a half hours today! It was so long that I was beginning to wonder if all was well. But wake up she did ... and happily.

Mom isn't feeling all that well, so she'll probably take the morrow off, and that means we will too. Unfortunately, I still have to get early up early to get some spots and tags burned off at the hospital. Nevertheless, we all like our occasional days off. Our little townhouse backyard needs one more raking of the leaves, so if the weather is decent I'll attend to that with the extra available hours. It won't take long, but I need to do it soon because this is the last week to pass off leaf litter to the town. You know winter is coming when ...

Speaking of which, I have a date to get our snow tires installed next week.

Bring it on, eh? (I had to say it that way because I'm a good Canadian. Eh?)

Monday, November 10, 2008

Of Dogs and Folk

Just thinking ... about dogs and people and temperament.

The retriever down the street, loves to walk around with things in her mouth; some breeds like to shepherd you. Some are yappy; some are friendly; others are aggressive.

I have often wondered how breeders manage to breed for temperament as well as looks (size, colour etc). I think I can understand looks, but I've often wondered about temperament. Lately, however, I've been thinking that maybe breeding for temperament isn't really all that strange.

In humans too.

When I look at the five generations of the family tree with which am familiar, I think I see that it's possible that at least one behavioral characteristic may be being passed on. My paternal grandmother, for example, seemed to become agitated and frustrated easily, and that trait seemed to pass onto my dad. To some degree I and Thesha have seem to have inherited it as well. For example: when Thesha was younger, I remember Cuppa remarking how it was so funny and ironical that and I would sometimes be heard to yell at her to be patient over this or that. Don't get me wrong; it's not that we are a clan of berserkers running frantically amok all of the time; it's just that certain stimuli, often apparently minor, may tend to get us going more than the average person.

Now I wonder if Nikki Dee is a bit like that too. She does tend to become easily frustrated. Of course, she's probably just being eighteen months old, so one doesn't want to jump to conclusions. However, she still causes me wonder when she becomes easily agitated about not getting something to work to her satisfaction immediately if not sooner. (And you should see both me and her fuss and fume when I'm vainly struggling to put on those damnable mitts and hats on her.)

If I'm right, that's five generations that exhibit a similar pattern. Mind you me, there's a whole of of other genes thrown into the mix as well as environmental factors, so perhaps I'm all wrong. It doesn't matter because I'm just observing and musing.

Let me state for the record, however, that I no longer think it so strange that certain canine breeds tend to consistently exhibit certain particular temperaments and behavioral traits.

Friday, November 07, 2008

The Real Deal

From Wikipedia

Indian summer is a name given to a period of sunny, warm weather in autumn, not long before winter. Usually occurring after the first frost, Indian summer can be in September, October, or early November in the northern hemisphere ...

Modern ideas on what an Indian summer constitutes vary, but the most widely accepted value for determining whether an Indian summer is occurring is that the weather must be above 21°C (70°F) for seven days after the autumnal equinox ...

In former times in Europe, Indian summer was called Saint Martin's Summer, referring to St. Martin's day, November 11, when it was supposed to end. In British English "St. Martin's Summer" was the most widely used term until the American phrase Indian Summer became better known in the 20th century ...

While we tend to use the phrase Indian Summer as a descriptor for any clement weather in late October to early November, I said to someone today that this is the genuine article. In yesterday's mentioned that I walked sans jacket on Wednesday. Yesterday (Thursday), I actually put on shorts, and I wasn't really pushing the envelope; I did it because I was hot. I highly doubt that it will last for seven days, and I don't know whether we officially hit 21°C (70°F) today, but according to my body temperature and the car thermometer we did, and that's good enough for me. Besides, who in the world is going to quibble over only reaching 20.5 degrees if that were the case, and who made up the rule about it needing to last for seven days? The exact number simply isn't the point. The point is that it's been an incredible few days here. Don't forget we've had any number of hard frosts and even a snow storm, so we certainly meet all reasonable criteria.

In point of fact, I don't recall anything like this kind of weather this late in Autumn. Of course, I barely recall my firstborn's name ... or the fact that this blog is called Drainspots ... or is it Brainrots?

Thursday, November 06, 2008

Grampa's Breakdown

ND had me going around in circles yesterday.

Lately, she hasn't exactly taken to having her diaper changed. As soon as she's plopped on the changing table, the struggle begins as she latches onto the side and begins to heave herself around. Generally, I fight the good fight, which I barely survive. Talk about being battered and bruised. Well, I was in the midst of it when the phone rang, so I thought I'd better check it out.

You see, you have to understand, that she has begun to be quite concerned when the phone rings. It must be answered, and I must be heard to speak. But the caller had hung up by the time that I got there with ND hard on my heels. The kids have quite the phone system of which have yet to unravel all of the arcane mysteries. My uncanny brain has pretty well figured out how to check the most recent caller though, and this time it was Mom, so I should call back. What my uncanny brain is still figuring is how to redial the last number. This took me several minutes with the kid getting more and more anxious and setting up her version of the banshee cry. As soon as I got connected and started talking to Mom, however, she calmed right down. Yes, she's a strange duck.

Shortly thereafter, this good grampa decided to offer her a drink before taking her out for a walk. In good faith I handed her the sippy cup and ducked in the bathroom for ... maybe a minute and a half ... and came out to find her soaked. Somehow, she has been managing to empty the supposedly water tight cup onto herself lately. So ... back we go for another Wrestlemania on the change table. This time she won: managed to haul herself right up. So I let her enjoy her moment of victory before putting her on the floor to finish the job.

Well wasn't her top wet, the one I had just changed? And didn't I find a puddle on the table? Unbeknownst to me at the time, hadn't she peed all over both the table and herself. So it was time to change her yet again, me scampering through the house after her, her having a ton of fun.

Eventually, I did get her changed, but moments later (literally only moments) didn't I smell something rather suspicious? That dratted kid had deposited a trophy into her loomers. Sigh. One more time into the ... er ... breeches.

Finally, it was walk time, but she simply wouldn't keep her hat or mittens on. And I find them difficult to put on her in the first place. Soon I gave up; it was pretty mild out after all, so mild that I removed my jacket and waked in my T-shirt. Yes, it was just one week ago that we had our first snowfall. But it was glorious today! Nevertheless, her hands got pretty cold, but I was ... not beyond caring but beyond be able to do battle.

Nap time: I have no trouble getting ND to sleep. but for the life of me, I can't get her from arms to crib without her waking and she sobbing her heart out. Today, I decided that since she really does need some rest during the day, that I would rock her for a half hour after she feel asleep. So, if she still awoke when I put her down, at least she would have had enough sleep to perhaps be bearable for the remainder of the day (and she was). So I did. I rocked her to sleep and then rocked her for thirty-five more minutes. But she woke up as soon as I tried to put her down.

So don't blame me if Cuppa comes on here and posts that good, old AC won't be posting for awhile as he has been hospitalized after a nervous breakdown.

PS: If you wondering where Cuppa was during my time of need, she was attending to her coiffure. She did allow me several hours of reprieve when she returned, during which time I went home, hugged myself into my recliner all the while shaking and weeping uncontrollably.

More evidence of my fragile mental state: as winter rapidly approaches, I am just now getting around to posting my autumn template. It should be good for ... oh ... about two minutes. Sigh.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

What a Relief!

Those who embraced hope outnumbered those who were fearful.

The Reign of Error is coming to an end.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Crazy Fiddlers

As most of you know, I am an unyoung guy but still a novice fiddler. So, when I talk about fiddling, please don't assume anything about pride or prowess. It's part of my current life (something that I'm just taking up as an older beginner) and my life is what I blog about. That's why you get so many photo posts of Nikki Dee — because she's a big part of my life right now.

Anyway, since September, I have been attending a Celtic Jam that is held in a town about a half hour away. I listen a lot as they play tune after tune that I've never heard before, but I know a few of them, and I get to call the tune two or three times a night, so, I keep going. Even when I can't play along, I often feel blessed to be surrounded by people playing this great style of music — yesterday's style (more like our great grandparents' yesterdays for most of us). Actually, I only feel blessed when I first remember not to become agitated and discouraged about my progress or lack of same. But I try to maintain a positive attitude, and I usually succeed.

The thing is that I'm a punctual sort of guy, but when I arrived on the first night, the place was already JAM-packed (I didn't intend to pun on jam at first, but I'll take it). So, I got there somewhat earlier the next night: same thing. Over the weeks, I've kept arriving earlier and earlier because I like to pick out a seat that I like after all — towards the back and right if you please.

Last night I arrived at 7:07 for the jam which was to begin at 7:30. I still wasn't the first to arrive fiddle in hand; there were already three cars ahead of me, and two more pulled in right behind me. Can you think of any other group that gathers so far ahead of time? We do have to go to all of the bother of taking out our instruments, but that takes about five minutes, and we then still have fifteen minutes or so to sit and wait. Is that crazy or what?!

Monday, November 03, 2008

My Dark Side

I must confess to having a dark side. It disturbs my normal equanimity when I get a silly invoice. This month, a credit card company has billed me the grand sum of $2.32. Last month, I paid the balance on time, but in their money grubbing ways, they've figured out how to extract another ounce of flesh. It's not worth fighting or complaining, but I do have my own silly, little way of getting back at them.

Here's what I do — sometimes. When I am invoiced for a paltry amount which I don't think is fair, I overpay — just by a little. In this case, I've sent the company $2.35, three cents more than required. In turn, because there is a balance, they will go to the expense of mailing me with a statement next month ... and the month after if I choose. This can go on for a long time.

Oh, I'm not that dark, and I won't let my little game go on forever, but it gives me a modicum of satisfaction to use their own rules against them. I do know it's all done by computer and that no human will ever notice ... but still ...

Petty, I know.

My dark side isn't really all that dark. Is it?

Sunday, November 02, 2008

Our Own Strange Case

I had to agree with Chani in her deception piece the other day. In short, she had an interview and rather than be honest by telling Chani that she didn't think it would be a good fit, the interviewer was evasive.

What's so hard about telling the truth when people can more or less figure out your agenda anyway? But there is still doubt, for they wonder if they got it right or they're not sure what the problem was. In short, we tend to stew a bit and replay it in our minds, looking for clues.

We have our own strange case to contemplate. It happened to us last winter as we were checking out some restaurants/caterers for the girls' wedding. We went to one place and were greeted cordially enough and left saying that we didn't have time to actually sample the fare that day but that we would be back on the next.

When we got back, we were virtually ignored. She walked past our table, greeted others, but averted her eyes from Cuppa and me. She retreated into the back, and when we asked we were told that she was too busy to see us. Yet, when Cuppa went back into the restaurant several minutes later to ask about email addresses etc, there she was sitting at a table and chatting to her friends amiably.

So, what was it? Did she just not want to do a Gay wedding? Did we say something that offended her (although I can't think how)? Or ... well ... I just can't think of anything else. So why the cold shoulder? Why not be courteous and say that having thought it over, she didn't think she'd be comfortable catering this wedding (assuming that was the reason)? You would think that it would have been an easier alternative than making sure to avert her eyes and hiding furtively until we left.

Ya gotta wonder what motivates people to act as they do.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

The Expected Halloween Pictures

As I am always reluctant to post photos [sure I am], I wasn't certain I would post Halloween pictures, but since the first three blogs I visited this morning featured them, here I go.

Here we are with Nikki Dee in our little porch. Note that Cuppa is in the spirit. I dressed up and got into the spirit a few years ago, even putting on spooky music, but now I figure that I've been there and done that.

She sits with our treat dish, We started with 210 goodies, and they were all gone by eight o'clock. This creature called Piglet isn't into treats yet, at least not this kind, but loved digging her hands into the bowl.

At one house our street she was given the pencil (go figure) that she is holding in this photo. She's staring past Mom, probably looking at Trick-or-Treaters coming to the door.

Then she began to poke a surprised Mom with the pencil while we were waiting for the flash to fire. Hence, Mom's expression.

Give it another two years or so, and I'm sure it will be a much bigger deal for the kid.