... from Christmas
Monday, December 31, 2007
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Television that's Good for the Brain?
Speaking of brain power (which we weren't but I've been thinking about it lol), maybe television can help. I know that's not the usual take on this supposedly mindless activity, but bear with me, will ya?
The Cuppa and I have been catching up on some programs that we missed over the hols but recorded on our handy dandy little machine. The programs that we regularly record include British series such as Waking the Dead, Judge John Deed, Inspector Lynley, and Midsomer Murders (among others). In this round of catchup, we have been privileged to watch two episodes of Midsomer Murders, each episode being composed two separate hour-long segments.
We found ourselves, not for the first time, being totally confused by the first episode that we recently watched: The Fisher King. In this, a typical case by the way, we were so quickly introduced to so many characters that we easily lost track. It's not so bad when you can see who Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby and his assistant are talking to, but when they just reference these suspects in passing dialogue, it can become mighty confusing.
So, I decided to take notes in our next episode, Sins of Commission. It's a good thing because, in total, we were introduced to 15 characters (16 if you count one person who changed identities and not counting the regulars), mostly in the first hour. Dems allotta characters, eh? So, you can perhaps see why one might become a trifle lost when someone whom you've barely met is referenced as Sam Callahan or Neville Williams later on. You tend to think Sam Who or Neville Huh?
But the notes helped. It seems to me that they helped me engage my grey matter by forcing me to focus more clearly. Even before I referred to the notes, I found that my brain was working harder to recall the particulars. In other words, the experience became more active rather than simply passive, and that would seem to be good for the noggin rather than bad.
As I said, within reason, we watch as much British television as we can. I think it all started when we chanced upon Cracker many years ago. It was great stuff which blew North America TV out of the water (poor metaphor, I know). If you ever have a chance compare the British Waking the Dead to the American Cold Case, two programs based on similar premise. In point of fact, there really is no comparison. Waking the Dead is deep and variable while Cold Case employs the same banal and predictable formula every darn week. The ghosts (you know what I mean if you watch it) and the music do help to make Cold Case watchable, but I think that most would agree that it's pretty thin.
Over the years, we have watched Prime Suspect, Inspector Morse, Frost and others, some of which I've listed at the outset. At one time A&E was a good source for such programs, but it doesn't seem to be any more, but PBS still has its share. I think we pick up Midsomer Murders on our local PBS-like (but not PBS) station, but I'm fairly confident that it can be found elsewhere. Now, in Canada we have BBC Canada to help to feed our addiction for these types of programs, and if there's a BBC Canada, there surely must be an American version too? Hint, hint.
FYI: here's how midsomermurders.net describes the program that I've gone about today, Midsomer Murders.
The Cuppa and I have been catching up on some programs that we missed over the hols but recorded on our handy dandy little machine. The programs that we regularly record include British series such as Waking the Dead, Judge John Deed, Inspector Lynley, and Midsomer Murders (among others). In this round of catchup, we have been privileged to watch two episodes of Midsomer Murders, each episode being composed two separate hour-long segments.
We found ourselves, not for the first time, being totally confused by the first episode that we recently watched: The Fisher King. In this, a typical case by the way, we were so quickly introduced to so many characters that we easily lost track. It's not so bad when you can see who Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby and his assistant are talking to, but when they just reference these suspects in passing dialogue, it can become mighty confusing.
So, I decided to take notes in our next episode, Sins of Commission. It's a good thing because, in total, we were introduced to 15 characters (16 if you count one person who changed identities and not counting the regulars), mostly in the first hour. Dems allotta characters, eh? So, you can perhaps see why one might become a trifle lost when someone whom you've barely met is referenced as Sam Callahan or Neville Williams later on. You tend to think Sam Who or Neville Huh?
But the notes helped. It seems to me that they helped me engage my grey matter by forcing me to focus more clearly. Even before I referred to the notes, I found that my brain was working harder to recall the particulars. In other words, the experience became more active rather than simply passive, and that would seem to be good for the noggin rather than bad.
As I said, within reason, we watch as much British television as we can. I think it all started when we chanced upon Cracker many years ago. It was great stuff which blew North America TV out of the water (poor metaphor, I know). If you ever have a chance compare the British Waking the Dead to the American Cold Case, two programs based on similar premise. In point of fact, there really is no comparison. Waking the Dead is deep and variable while Cold Case employs the same banal and predictable formula every darn week. The ghosts (you know what I mean if you watch it) and the music do help to make Cold Case watchable, but I think that most would agree that it's pretty thin.
Over the years, we have watched Prime Suspect, Inspector Morse, Frost and others, some of which I've listed at the outset. At one time A&E was a good source for such programs, but it doesn't seem to be any more, but PBS still has its share. I think we pick up Midsomer Murders on our local PBS-like (but not PBS) station, but I'm fairly confident that it can be found elsewhere. Now, in Canada we have BBC Canada to help to feed our addiction for these types of programs, and if there's a BBC Canada, there surely must be an American version too? Hint, hint.
FYI: here's how midsomermurders.net describes the program that I've gone about today, Midsomer Murders.
The programme possesses a unique style. It is almost entirely set within the closed, backwards-looking fictional English county of Midsomer. Midsomer is a world whose inhabitants are a collection of wealthy, amoral and snobbish eccentrics often obsessed with the fairly small lives they lead in these isolated communities. This provides for an enormous amount of friction between them which is observed with a self-mocking, sardonic humour.
The show often highlights the facade put up by people. To the eye Midsomer is a picturesque, peaceful and prosperous county but in fact behind the well-trimmed hedgerows and cricket on the village green is a society brimming with all kinds of vices. Barnaby by contrast offers a stable homelife and an exceptional morality.
Each story is built up carefully, with underpinning currents and unsolved mysteries adding to the bemusement of the detectives. There are usually a number of false leads, such as those who have committed petty crimes, or harbour some dark secret that they attempt to conceal from the world. Despite the sinister, atmospheric edge that runs through the show, it maintains a constant humour.
One feature of the programme is the extremely large number of deaths, especially considering that Midsomer is a small, rural county. Because of the slightly bizarre nature of the place, this does not seem entirely improbable. The show at times even plays on this lack of realism, with characters within it often commenting on the astoundingly high numbers of deaths.
The show often highlights the facade put up by people. To the eye Midsomer is a picturesque, peaceful and prosperous county but in fact behind the well-trimmed hedgerows and cricket on the village green is a society brimming with all kinds of vices. Barnaby by contrast offers a stable homelife and an exceptional morality.
Each story is built up carefully, with underpinning currents and unsolved mysteries adding to the bemusement of the detectives. There are usually a number of false leads, such as those who have committed petty crimes, or harbour some dark secret that they attempt to conceal from the world. Despite the sinister, atmospheric edge that runs through the show, it maintains a constant humour.
One feature of the programme is the extremely large number of deaths, especially considering that Midsomer is a small, rural county. Because of the slightly bizarre nature of the place, this does not seem entirely improbable. The show at times even plays on this lack of realism, with characters within it often commenting on the astoundingly high numbers of deaths.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Being Wise on a Snowy Day
It's back — winter and snow, I mean. After huge mountains of white were reduced to only large mountains of white by a day of rain on Sunday, we had a new fall yesterday, with more expected in the next few days. Which means that after week of respite it is high time for AC to get out and shovel.
But I don't mind shovelling. In fact, my perverse side rather enjoys it ... up to a point at least. It's good exercise, and it's usually not too much of a strain if one applies a modicum of common sense. You do need to be cautious, however, because snow-shovelling can be dangerous: hard on the heart. During the pre-Christmas accumulations, for example, a 45 year-old man in our town dropped dead in his driveway after shovelling.
That's why Cuppa worries and frets when I get out there. But while nothing is completely safe, I don't think she needs to worry much because I try to exercise caution and vigilance over my body as much as possible. When I feel that I'm beginning to breathe too hard, I pause and lean on my shovel. Sometimes, to reinforce the necessity of taking it easy, I actually put the implement down and/or move back into the edge of the garage and lean against the car. I catch my breath a little before re-commencing to push more snow around.
I try my best to enjoy what I am doing: the exercise, the invigorating air, the chance to wave at a neighbour or two. I think that's a key: to see it as an enjoyable opportunity and not just an odious chore to be dealt with as quickly as possible because I'm pretty sure that's when the catastrophes occur. Snow-shovelling and many other chores really can be enjoyable if we go about them in the right frame of mind.
I learned some this from my father. He had a bad hernia, but he'd get out there frequently and just sweep the snow aside. While that approach wouldn't have worked with our excessive pre-Christmas dumping, it often worked for him during ordinary winters. While I don't have a hernia, I try to follow his example by attending to the snow frequently. On one or even two days a week or two ago, I went out at least three times, so that no single shovelling event became too onerous. Fortunately, nice neighbour with the snow blower came to the rescue the few times that the load got a bit beyond comfort level.
Maybe, there's a certain wisdom that comes with age (not that I'm terribly old, but, at sixty, I'm no longer young either). I find that the younger set doesn't always get it that less can be more. For example if one needs to shift a load from here to there, making two trips carrying fewer bags or boxes can actually be easier than overloading oneself so that it can be accomplished in one trip, thereby possibly saving a whole minute or two. It's the same with shovelling snow. Three light shovellings can be a lot easier than one big one, especially if you slow down enough to enjoy it.
So ... I don't think Cuppa needs to worry when I head back out there to do my duty in a little later this morning. But she will.
But I don't mind shovelling. In fact, my perverse side rather enjoys it ... up to a point at least. It's good exercise, and it's usually not too much of a strain if one applies a modicum of common sense. You do need to be cautious, however, because snow-shovelling can be dangerous: hard on the heart. During the pre-Christmas accumulations, for example, a 45 year-old man in our town dropped dead in his driveway after shovelling.
That's why Cuppa worries and frets when I get out there. But while nothing is completely safe, I don't think she needs to worry much because I try to exercise caution and vigilance over my body as much as possible. When I feel that I'm beginning to breathe too hard, I pause and lean on my shovel. Sometimes, to reinforce the necessity of taking it easy, I actually put the implement down and/or move back into the edge of the garage and lean against the car. I catch my breath a little before re-commencing to push more snow around.
I try my best to enjoy what I am doing: the exercise, the invigorating air, the chance to wave at a neighbour or two. I think that's a key: to see it as an enjoyable opportunity and not just an odious chore to be dealt with as quickly as possible because I'm pretty sure that's when the catastrophes occur. Snow-shovelling and many other chores really can be enjoyable if we go about them in the right frame of mind.
I learned some this from my father. He had a bad hernia, but he'd get out there frequently and just sweep the snow aside. While that approach wouldn't have worked with our excessive pre-Christmas dumping, it often worked for him during ordinary winters. While I don't have a hernia, I try to follow his example by attending to the snow frequently. On one or even two days a week or two ago, I went out at least three times, so that no single shovelling event became too onerous. Fortunately, nice neighbour with the snow blower came to the rescue the few times that the load got a bit beyond comfort level.
Maybe, there's a certain wisdom that comes with age (not that I'm terribly old, but, at sixty, I'm no longer young either). I find that the younger set doesn't always get it that less can be more. For example if one needs to shift a load from here to there, making two trips carrying fewer bags or boxes can actually be easier than overloading oneself so that it can be accomplished in one trip, thereby possibly saving a whole minute or two. It's the same with shovelling snow. Three light shovellings can be a lot easier than one big one, especially if you slow down enough to enjoy it.
So ... I don't think Cuppa needs to worry when I head back out there to do my duty in a little later this morning. But she will.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Christmas Eve in Anvilcloudia
While this, the 23rd, isn't likely your Christmas Eve, it's ours this year, and tomorrow, the 24th, will be our Christmas Day. That's because of travelling and flight times, not necessarily because we can't wait to tear open our gifts. Soon, we will head to Thesha's for a brunch, and we'll do a big snack-spread this evening with cheeses, crackers, dips and many etceteras. Tomorrow we will open gifts and devour the turkey.
So it is that the timing has worked out well for my last Christmas Music post. I've seen this video on two blogs already, so you probably have too, but for those who haven't seen and heard, Celine Dion's O Holy Night is pretty awesome — traditional but wonderful nevertheless. Enjoy, and have a great Christmas at your house.
So it is that the timing has worked out well for my last Christmas Music post. I've seen this video on two blogs already, so you probably have too, but for those who haven't seen and heard, Celine Dion's O Holy Night is pretty awesome — traditional but wonderful nevertheless. Enjoy, and have a great Christmas at your house.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
It Continues to Snow
We just made a whirlwind trip to the cottage and back. We left, somewhat unpreparedly, on Monday and returned on Wednesday with the A-Team in tow. Yet another snowfall caused us to depart back home somewhat abruptly that morning, but we made it back in one piece and none the worse for wear about four hours later. The above photo shows the road just outside the cottage upon our departure. The one below looks back toward the cottage from the same spot. Note: In part, I post these because some dear readers expressed their appreciation of my previous winter photos, and I do like to
Getting into the cottage on Monday night was a wee bit of a problem, however. You see, on Sunday, Cuppa had called the gentleman who is paid to clear the snow from the driveway, and he had assured us that it would be done by Monday afternoon. When we arrived, however, not only had the driveway not been ploughed of its knee-deep snow, but the entrance was totally blocked by the leavings of the township ploughs.
Note: for those unaccustomed to real winter, this (being plowed in or out) is a perpetual and unavoidable scenario. It happens here in the city too; no sooner do I get my own driveway shovelled, but the town plough happens by and leaves me a pile at the entrance about a foot high and four feet wide. The additional problem is that this machine-dumped snow is almost invariably quite heavy. No one is to blame, and there's no sense in getting strung out over it; it's just the way it is.
In the event, the girls shovelled enough snow for us to get the car off the road, and we then lugged our very full carload of stuff down the knee-deep snowy lane to the cottage. Snowshoes helped the process a lot, but it took one long trip down in the knee-deep snow to locate and make use of them.
I told my ladies that if Mr Ploughman gave us some sort of lame excuse like a flat tire in the morrow that we'd know he was lying. His eventual excuse was a weak variation: "Sorry I couldn't make it yesterday, I had some car trouble." Uh huh! We believe him, don't we?
Anyway, we survived to eat many snacks, play various games around the kitchen table, and go out for a snowshoe walk. I took the next two photos on that walk. The second illustrates that if you do fall on snowshoes, it's very difficult to get back up without assistance.
When we got home last night, I had my driveway to shovel out, and I see that I will have to repeat the process this morning.
Monday, December 17, 2007
More Snowy Pics
Yesterday, I posted this photo of the disappearing bbq, taken mid-morning.
Here it is early in the afternoon.
And by mid-afternoon.
In the evening.
The snow is piling up like crazy. I went out shovelling three times.
The last time I went out, I took some night photos.
Here it is early in the afternoon.
And by mid-afternoon.
In the evening.
The snow is piling up like crazy. I went out shovelling three times.
The last time I went out, I took some night photos.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Great Grandma's Christmas Smocking
For many years my mother smocked Christmas balls like the one that you see above. I haven't counted them, but she must have done a dozen or more. She smocked two sets, one for us and one for her. But she was also thinking long range as there would be sets enough to eventually be passed on to her two granddaughters. And since my mother has since shuffled off her mortal coil, her eldest granddaughter has inherited one set. Meanwhile, Cuppa and I hope to use the other set for many years before it makes its way to the next generation.
Floating things sure attract The Bonny Wee Smudge's attention, and she became quite interested in these balls the other day. I held her up close while she gazed and tried her best to grab. She doesn't know that she is being mesmerized by the handiwork of her great grandmother, but I think it's pretty neat and thought I would steal the photo and clip from Thesha's blog to make mention of it. I'm sure that no one will mind: not Thesha, Smudge, or Great grandma.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Chocolorama
Speaking of dark chocolate (as I was just a few posts down), I am thrilled to report that I have added two more bars to my collection (see photo in previous post), which has not yet been consumed (at least in its entirety), I hasten to add.
But it does pain me greatly to tell you of this because I have already done so — written it up, I mean. For whatever reason, however, Blogger refuses to let me back into that post either to edit or publish, for it disappears from the screen immediately subsequent to me catching a brief glimpse. Go figure, eh?
Anyway, I now am the proud owner of two fine chocolate bars — Wild, 68% cocoa ,and Maracaibo Creole, 49% cocoa — that were created in Ludwig's country basement or kitchen or wherever. We met him at the MERA art/craft event way out in McDonalds Corners this past weekend. I'd show you the picture that I took for the previous blog attempt, but it also seems to have vanished — from my computer as well as from Google.
Ludwig is a former pastry chef at the prestigious and old-classic Chateau Laurier Hotel in Ottawa. Now, he resides in the boondocks, earns his living in the tourist sector, and makes his own chocolate bars in the winter. Man, can he wax ever so eloquently on this, his favourite, topic. But I won't even try to repeat the lecture (said AC to a great sigh of relief from his adoring public).
The variety of life and human interest and activity sometimes stuns me. How does someone become interested in and get passionate about making chocolate in his house in rural Ontario? But, when the time comes, I will enjoy the fruit of his love and labour and rejoice.
PS: If you click on McDonalds Corners (here and above), you will be taken to a Google Map (I think), which is scrollable and clickable. I tried to embed it in the first attempt at this post and assume that's what went terribly haywire, so I'll just link this time. (Note: for whatever reason, you may just see a blue pin and nothing else if you click. That's because it's very zoomed-in. Just zoom out a lot to see the general location. I think Google Maps may not be quite ready for prime time as far as saving, linking and embedding, but they could become a great tool at some point.)
But it does pain me greatly to tell you of this because I have already done so — written it up, I mean. For whatever reason, however, Blogger refuses to let me back into that post either to edit or publish, for it disappears from the screen immediately subsequent to me catching a brief glimpse. Go figure, eh?
Anyway, I now am the proud owner of two fine chocolate bars — Wild, 68% cocoa ,and Maracaibo Creole, 49% cocoa — that were created in Ludwig's country basement or kitchen or wherever. We met him at the MERA art/craft event way out in McDonalds Corners this past weekend. I'd show you the picture that I took for the previous blog attempt, but it also seems to have vanished — from my computer as well as from Google.
Ludwig is a former pastry chef at the prestigious and old-classic Chateau Laurier Hotel in Ottawa. Now, he resides in the boondocks, earns his living in the tourist sector, and makes his own chocolate bars in the winter. Man, can he wax ever so eloquently on this, his favourite, topic. But I won't even try to repeat the lecture (said AC to a great sigh of relief from his adoring public).
The variety of life and human interest and activity sometimes stuns me. How does someone become interested in and get passionate about making chocolate in his house in rural Ontario? But, when the time comes, I will enjoy the fruit of his love and labour and rejoice.
PS: If you click on McDonalds Corners (here and above), you will be taken to a Google Map (I think), which is scrollable and clickable. I tried to embed it in the first attempt at this post and assume that's what went terribly haywire, so I'll just link this time. (Note: for whatever reason, you may just see a blue pin and nothing else if you click. That's because it's very zoomed-in. Just zoom out a lot to see the general location. I think Google Maps may not be quite ready for prime time as far as saving, linking and embedding, but they could become a great tool at some point.)
Monday, December 10, 2007
Peekaboo!
Cuppa and I were asked to babysit the little one for a few hours. Although it's a tremendous chore, we acquiesced. Not only did we acquiesce, but we also agreed to do it. It went well including meal time (above). While I have given The Bonny Wee Smudge the occasional bottle, I think this was my first spoon feeding of her. We did well together.
Below: she has been making a very cute face lately. It seems to involve a goofy wrinkling of the nose and an odd, little smile. while the next picture doesn't quite get the best rendition thereof, it gives a bit of an idea.
After supper we put her in a walker sort of thingie that doesn't really allow her to walk. but it helps her to stand and bounce around a little. She was very content in there for the longest time and began to play Peekaboo with us. That was a first for us; Smudge initiating the game and covering herself up. What fun we had together.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Chocolate and Moderaton
Honesty forces me to admit that I sometimes have a bit of a problem with food. By and large, my basic diet is sound. For example: I eat decent meals with enough fruits and veggies to be a fairly good AC. It's just that when I do permit myself to indulge, I am quite likely to go too far and overindulge. Open a bag of chips, and I will most likely fall headlong into wanton gluttony. Well, maybe I exaggerate a tad, but I'm sure you take my point.
Christmas season can be difficult for me because there seem to be delicious goodies staring me in the face every time I glance around. While I am in some control so far this year, I am forced to admit that the season in young and that I was a anything but in control last year. If there ever was a season of chocolate, baking, and salty snacks begging to be wolfed, Christmas is it. I like all of those things, which is fine, but I like them a little too much.
However, with all of the talk of the health benefits of dark chocolate, I sometimes purchase a bar, and I'm happy to report that I do seem to be moderate in my intake. I guess that my mind is able to designate these purchases for moderate, healthy use, and I am therefore able to exercise a modicum of restraint. The odd thing about such moderation is that I really like dark chocolate and prefer it (to some slight degree anyway) to milk chocolate, yet I still seem able to keep a grip. (Note: 72% cacao is about my limit, however; 85% is more bitter than I prefer.)
Could it be that I'm growing up?
Naw ... Pass the chips, will ya?
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Lghting up the Night
... and our hearts
Have I ever mentioned that living in this town and in this area is sometimes very much fun? Yes? Are you tired of it already? Is enough enough? Well, brace yourselves then.
Friday evening found us in nearby Almonte for their Light up the Night ceremony. Apparently they have done this for seventeen years, but it was out first visit. As we headed toward town, I noticed a searchlight in the sky and then another. I scratched my head until the much smarter Cuppa speculated that it must have to do the Light up the Night theme. It had.
We arrived, found a stage set up at one end of the main street and began to listen to the music as various performers and puppets made their contributions, reminded us yet again of the abundance of local talent (Some of the performers and kids set to welcome Santa are on the stage below. Note two puppets on the right.)
When we paused to look behind us the whole street behind us was filled with fellow onlookers. (I know it's a poor photo, but perhaps it conveys some of the crowd that stood behind us.)
The music and ceremonies went on for about an hour and half or more, and, although it wasn’t particularly cold outside, my feet began to grow numb inside my uninsulated boots. Why oh why, hadn’t I worn my genuine winter boots? But hark! Just as I was beginning to grow faint and lose hope, lo and behold Santa appeared. Good. We could go home to warm up.
Wat! Not so fast! For there was to be one more event — the grand finale as it turned out. In the form of the Hallelujah Chorus accompanied by fireworks. It was quite chilling but no longer in terms of weather. In fact perhaps thrilling would be a better word than chilling. I managed to capture some of it in the clip below. Does it chill or thrill you just a bit too?
Have I ever mentioned that living in this town and in this area is sometimes very much fun? Yes? Are you tired of it already? Is enough enough? Well, brace yourselves then.
Friday evening found us in nearby Almonte for their Light up the Night ceremony. Apparently they have done this for seventeen years, but it was out first visit. As we headed toward town, I noticed a searchlight in the sky and then another. I scratched my head until the much smarter Cuppa speculated that it must have to do the Light up the Night theme. It had.
We arrived, found a stage set up at one end of the main street and began to listen to the music as various performers and puppets made their contributions, reminded us yet again of the abundance of local talent (Some of the performers and kids set to welcome Santa are on the stage below. Note two puppets on the right.)
When we paused to look behind us the whole street behind us was filled with fellow onlookers. (I know it's a poor photo, but perhaps it conveys some of the crowd that stood behind us.)
The music and ceremonies went on for about an hour and half or more, and, although it wasn’t particularly cold outside, my feet began to grow numb inside my uninsulated boots. Why oh why, hadn’t I worn my genuine winter boots? But hark! Just as I was beginning to grow faint and lose hope, lo and behold Santa appeared. Good. We could go home to warm up.
Wat! Not so fast! For there was to be one more event — the grand finale as it turned out. In the form of the Hallelujah Chorus accompanied by fireworks. It was quite chilling but no longer in terms of weather. In fact perhaps thrilling would be a better word than chilling. I managed to capture some of it in the clip below. Does it chill or thrill you just a bit too?
Thursday, December 06, 2007
My Early Morning (and Gina's Teeny Manolo)
The Anvilcloud clan is not generally thought of as early birds. It's not that we don't enjoy the occasional tasty dish of worms ... but we still don't exactly fly into action with gusto in the morning. Not even the cat. Who hates birds anyway.
Today, however, necessity found us heaving our bodies into vertical positions at 5:30 in order to be into the city by 7:30 so that good, old AC could lie half naked in uncomfortable positions on uncomfortable tables whilst medical technicians applied cold gel and cold wands to his body for nigh unto two hours. Oooh my aching back and freezing nipples. Now I ask you: isn't something like that worth getting up for?
We were on the road into the city by 6:30 after stopping at Tim Hortons for coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Did you know that the Tim's Drive Thru is backed up to the road at that early hour? And did you know that the highway into town was already a virtual parking lot? Did you know that we could have taken the back roads in, but AC figured that highway traffic would be minimal at that early hour? If you didn't know those things, you perhaps now know that AC suffers from poor judgment.
After the tests, we put in a day of shopping, and Grandma Cuppa is now sound asleep while I do my AC thing. n fact, the old granny-girl barely stayed awake for her bedtime story. Hmmm ... or did she ... must test her in the morning.
I write all that because I didn't just want to tell you to visit Teeny Manolo and not say anything else at all. Gina asked me to link to Teeny Manolo so I am. She's a nice person, one of my longest Blogger acquaintances. As such, she's one of only two bloggers who will receive real Christmas cards from me this year. Mostly because I only know the addresses of two! :)
So, go read Teeny Manolo, will ya?
Disclaimer: I don't read Teeny Manolo, preferring to stick with Gina's other blog, Just Another Day, but what the heck, check out Teeny Manolo anyway.
Today, however, necessity found us heaving our bodies into vertical positions at 5:30 in order to be into the city by 7:30 so that good, old AC could lie half naked in uncomfortable positions on uncomfortable tables whilst medical technicians applied cold gel and cold wands to his body for nigh unto two hours. Oooh my aching back and freezing nipples. Now I ask you: isn't something like that worth getting up for?
We were on the road into the city by 6:30 after stopping at Tim Hortons for coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Did you know that the Tim's Drive Thru is backed up to the road at that early hour? And did you know that the highway into town was already a virtual parking lot? Did you know that we could have taken the back roads in, but AC figured that highway traffic would be minimal at that early hour? If you didn't know those things, you perhaps now know that AC suffers from poor judgment.
After the tests, we put in a day of shopping, and Grandma Cuppa is now sound asleep while I do my AC thing. n fact, the old granny-girl barely stayed awake for her bedtime story. Hmmm ... or did she ... must test her in the morning.
I write all that because I didn't just want to tell you to visit Teeny Manolo and not say anything else at all. Gina asked me to link to Teeny Manolo so I am. She's a nice person, one of my longest Blogger acquaintances. As such, she's one of only two bloggers who will receive real Christmas cards from me this year. Mostly because I only know the addresses of two! :)
So, go read Teeny Manolo, will ya?
Disclaimer: I don't read Teeny Manolo, preferring to stick with Gina's other blog, Just Another Day, but what the heck, check out Teeny Manolo anyway.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Looking Out
I always close my den drapes at night, but with the snow and lights, I haven't tonight. I don't think I know how to do night photography, but this is more or less how it really looks.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Dear Aunties ...
... you need to hurry to Ontario to have Christmas cookies with the Smudgeroo ...
... and Christmas tea with the Mom (and Dad).
... and Christmas tea with the Mom (and Dad).
A Helping Hand
It's only the third of December, and it's not even officially winter, but this morning must have been my sixth shovelling, and some other kind, anonymous soul (the neighbour you will see in pictures below I expect) has done it at least one other time.
Some folks were already out there when I made my appearance this morning. There were at least two snowblowers blowing: one helping out some of our less healthy neighbours. But I got out there using the old-fashioned method and had most of the driveway cleared before friendly neighbour #2 asked if I would like her to finish it for me. Yes, I liked. Not that I wasn't enjoying myself in my own peculiar way, but too much snow shovelling can be hard on the heart, and one has to also exercise caution while exercising the body.
Although I would no doubt feel differently about shovelling if I had to do it at seven o'clock in the morning to get to work on time, I don't mind the chore when I can take my time. It's partly a matter of attitude. We can make choices. I could choose to regard shovelling as intrusive and holding me back from other things, or I can relax and enjoy the air ad the exercise, and that is what I chose to do.
But I think neighbour was having even more fun with her new blower .
Some folks were already out there when I made my appearance this morning. There were at least two snowblowers blowing: one helping out some of our less healthy neighbours. But I got out there using the old-fashioned method and had most of the driveway cleared before friendly neighbour #2 asked if I would like her to finish it for me. Yes, I liked. Not that I wasn't enjoying myself in my own peculiar way, but too much snow shovelling can be hard on the heart, and one has to also exercise caution while exercising the body.
Although I would no doubt feel differently about shovelling if I had to do it at seven o'clock in the morning to get to work on time, I don't mind the chore when I can take my time. It's partly a matter of attitude. We can make choices. I could choose to regard shovelling as intrusive and holding me back from other things, or I can relax and enjoy the air ad the exercise, and that is what I chose to do.
But I think neighbour was having even more fun with her new blower .
My Little Printing Press
I spent part of the weekend printing Christmas cards. That's our 2007 version above, or at least the outside part. I took it a few winters ago, near Christmastime at the cottage and decided to press it into service this year. I had done my own cards for a number of years before regressing for the past few, but I decided that it was high time to put some of my remaining card stock to use this season.
If you had told be a few decades ago, let's say in 1980 before household computers began to become part of our lives, that I'd soon have my own printing press in a small corner of my den, I would have looked at you askance. But I do. If you had told me that I'd have a digital darkroom that produced better results than the local photo processors ...
I think Gutenberg, Man of the Past Millennium, would have been pleased.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
A Nipping in the Night
I just read here about a feral cat in Tennessee who had a peanut butter jar stuck on its head for 19 days. When it became too weak to flee, a family was able to catch it, remove the jar, and give the poor thing some nourishment. These critters are astonishing at times and have their unique ways, and that thought has prompted me to blog about our own little fellow and his shenanigans in the wee morning hours last night.
Often The Rocks goes to bed before I, but last night he stayed up with me. When I went down to the kitchen for muffins and milk, he came too and insisted on a saucer of [cat] milk. Usually that suffices and he heads to bed, but not last night, for he was able to pry a second serving out of me later.
Still later, getting on to about 1:30 AM, he was still up and about and clearly manifesting a desire for yet another dollop. Thought I: that's enough, you'll be fine. Thought he: I am determined to get me some more milk (we never give him much at once if you're concerned about his girth — which you should be). After various rubbings, meowings and cajolings hadn't worked to get Papa AC moving to the kitchen, he slipped under the computer desk and proceeded to nip at my feet.
I laughed, and we escorted each other back to the kitchen for the third and final offering. Then we both joined the somnolent Cuppa in bed.
In all of these years, he's never resorted to the tooth to get my attention, but he was of a one-track mind last night.
Often The Rocks goes to bed before I, but last night he stayed up with me. When I went down to the kitchen for muffins and milk, he came too and insisted on a saucer of [cat] milk. Usually that suffices and he heads to bed, but not last night, for he was able to pry a second serving out of me later.Still later, getting on to about 1:30 AM, he was still up and about and clearly manifesting a desire for yet another dollop. Thought I: that's enough, you'll be fine. Thought he: I am determined to get me some more milk (we never give him much at once if you're concerned about his girth — which you should be). After various rubbings, meowings and cajolings hadn't worked to get Papa AC moving to the kitchen, he slipped under the computer desk and proceeded to nip at my feet.
I laughed, and we escorted each other back to the kitchen for the third and final offering. Then we both joined the somnolent Cuppa in bed.
In all of these years, he's never resorted to the tooth to get my attention, but he was of a one-track mind last night.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
Why Not?
Cuppa is on her way out for coffee with the ladies this morning and asked me to print a few photos to take with her. So why not post them for you too? They're all taken within the last week or so, mostly at the town Christmas parade last week.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Not One of The Boys
The other weekend when we were at the cottage, we dropped into the general store up at the corner. The owner was sitting outside wearing his orange hunter's cap shooting the breeze with a few of the locals. We once thought of moving up thataway, but it never worked out, and I felt glad that morning, for as I opined to Cuppa, I'd never be one of the boys. I simply can't imagine being at one with hunters and the ATV crowd.
I can't picture myself having a good jaw with the good old boys. It's not really about them, fine folk that they are. It's about me. I just don't do the aimless chit chat thang very well. Never have, never will. I like to do more than to be. Even with friends and sometimes even with family, I'd generally prefer to socialize around an activity (ie game) than sit around and try to think of things to say. I simply don't do well with social converse. It's difficult for me and my introverted brain.
Even today, when Cuppa and I went to the coffee shop after flu shots and before shopping this morning, a few older guys had met up at a nearby table. It seemed to be something that they normally do. Once again I commented to Cuppa because I just can't see myself ever being a part of something like that.
It make me wonder what life would be like on my own without The Cuppa. While I am pretty self-sufficient and capable in many ways, I do need friends. I don't need many, but I do need one or three. Even as a kid, I tended to have only a few good buddies and even then, one was much closer than the other few. But, for me, the older I get the harder it seems to get to make friends. Cuppa is pretty well my only pal now (especially now that we have moved away from Sarnia) and I have the kids who are pretty close, but the possibility of a lonely future still worries me sometimes.
On the other hand. I think Cuppa and I still have good years ahead of us, and way down the road, I'll be the first to go anyway.
I can't picture myself having a good jaw with the good old boys. It's not really about them, fine folk that they are. It's about me. I just don't do the aimless chit chat thang very well. Never have, never will. I like to do more than to be. Even with friends and sometimes even with family, I'd generally prefer to socialize around an activity (ie game) than sit around and try to think of things to say. I simply don't do well with social converse. It's difficult for me and my introverted brain.
Even today, when Cuppa and I went to the coffee shop after flu shots and before shopping this morning, a few older guys had met up at a nearby table. It seemed to be something that they normally do. Once again I commented to Cuppa because I just can't see myself ever being a part of something like that.
It make me wonder what life would be like on my own without The Cuppa. While I am pretty self-sufficient and capable in many ways, I do need friends. I don't need many, but I do need one or three. Even as a kid, I tended to have only a few good buddies and even then, one was much closer than the other few. But, for me, the older I get the harder it seems to get to make friends. Cuppa is pretty well my only pal now (especially now that we have moved away from Sarnia) and I have the kids who are pretty close, but the possibility of a lonely future still worries me sometimes.
On the other hand. I think Cuppa and I still have good years ahead of us, and way down the road, I'll be the first to go anyway.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Tagged By Turtle
Just when I was thinking that I must post something — anything — I find myself tagged by Dave. So, while explosions continue to rock my world, let's see what happens with this meme.
Okay, so I took care of #1 in both the title and the opening paragraph. So, what five things shall I share today? I seem to recall once did a seven-thing meme (which I can't find now), but maybe this list will be different.
(i) I'm opposite Cuppa who almost always has her iPod plugged into her ears at night (and who is smart and cute). Listening to books on tape (although they're on CDs now, helps her fall and stay asleep. It seems to have the opposite effect on me. I start to doze but then wake up enough to realize that I'm missing plot development. So, I strain to stay awake. And it works. Last night, it worked until five o'clock in the morning when I finished reading (not listening to) Louise Penny's Still Life. (Note: based on this book, Penny is a very fine Canadian mystery writer who rivals the British mysteries and actually sets her novels in Quebec, Canada.)
(ii) I was conflicted last night when Thesha called with the exciting news that the seven-month old Smudge has cut her first two teeth. It's exciting for sure, but it's also a first step away from babydom and that irresistible gummy smile that lights up my grampa's heart (if hearts can be lit up).
(iii) There is a fiddling orchestra out in the country — way out in the country — and I am prepping to join it. I'm still a beginner, and the leader has me and three other beginners working on some of their songs at a slower learning pace. For those tunes, we will join the orchestra when they play their Christmas Concert on January 5 [sic]. I think I sound better than the other three who all tend to be grinders. My habit is almost the opposite — I tend to bounce on the down bow. I can't seem to correct this, and it's driving me crazy. It does tend to improve somewhat towards the end of a long practice, but next day, I start out with the same problem.
(iv) Sometimes, I think I really am mildly dyslexic. For example: I just fixed a typo in point one. I had written "htta" rather than "that" (right letters, wrong order). And mechanical things leave me perplexed. Getting my music stand up and down becomes an ordeal of great magnitude, and on the weekend I stared at the stop of the maple syrup jar rather stupidly before my BIL opened it for me. However, I'll spare you the details by not trying to describe the fastening contraption at the top.
(v) I like dogs but will probably never own one. In the past I have written about the neighbour's Molly. We took her to the dog park (which I just spelled aprk — all the right letters again). several times last winter. Anyway, I really like her and most dogs, but when I see Stan out walking her five or six times a day, I shudder. You see, she won't go in the backyard. But she's a wonderful Golden Retriever, and if I ever did have a dog, I'd like one of those — but in miniature svp.
Well I think those things are pretty random, and surely some qualify as weird. So, I pass the meme (oops I just left the "p" off "pass" which may be appropriate) to ec, Philip, and Lorna.
Oh, were you wondering about the explosions that are rocking my world (first paragraph)? It's literally true. For the past week, they have been blasting on the road behind our house. They are going to widen it, and the bedrock is very close to the surface here, so, yes, we're having a real blast. So real that it shakes the house.
Here are the rules: (i) Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog. (ii) Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird. (iii) Tag 3 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs. Let them know they are TAGGED by leaving a comment on their blog.
Okay, so I took care of #1 in both the title and the opening paragraph. So, what five things shall I share today? I seem to recall once did a seven-thing meme (which I can't find now), but maybe this list will be different.
(i) I'm opposite Cuppa who almost always has her iPod plugged into her ears at night (and who is smart and cute). Listening to books on tape (although they're on CDs now, helps her fall and stay asleep. It seems to have the opposite effect on me. I start to doze but then wake up enough to realize that I'm missing plot development. So, I strain to stay awake. And it works. Last night, it worked until five o'clock in the morning when I finished reading (not listening to) Louise Penny's Still Life. (Note: based on this book, Penny is a very fine Canadian mystery writer who rivals the British mysteries and actually sets her novels in Quebec, Canada.)
(ii) I was conflicted last night when Thesha called with the exciting news that the seven-month old Smudge has cut her first two teeth. It's exciting for sure, but it's also a first step away from babydom and that irresistible gummy smile that lights up my grampa's heart (if hearts can be lit up).
(iii) There is a fiddling orchestra out in the country — way out in the country — and I am prepping to join it. I'm still a beginner, and the leader has me and three other beginners working on some of their songs at a slower learning pace. For those tunes, we will join the orchestra when they play their Christmas Concert on January 5 [sic]. I think I sound better than the other three who all tend to be grinders. My habit is almost the opposite — I tend to bounce on the down bow. I can't seem to correct this, and it's driving me crazy. It does tend to improve somewhat towards the end of a long practice, but next day, I start out with the same problem.
(iv) Sometimes, I think I really am mildly dyslexic. For example: I just fixed a typo in point one. I had written "htta" rather than "that" (right letters, wrong order). And mechanical things leave me perplexed. Getting my music stand up and down becomes an ordeal of great magnitude, and on the weekend I stared at the stop of the maple syrup jar rather stupidly before my BIL opened it for me. However, I'll spare you the details by not trying to describe the fastening contraption at the top.
(v) I like dogs but will probably never own one. In the past I have written about the neighbour's Molly. We took her to the dog park (which I just spelled aprk — all the right letters again). several times last winter. Anyway, I really like her and most dogs, but when I see Stan out walking her five or six times a day, I shudder. You see, she won't go in the backyard. But she's a wonderful Golden Retriever, and if I ever did have a dog, I'd like one of those — but in miniature svp.
Well I think those things are pretty random, and surely some qualify as weird. So, I pass the meme (oops I just left the "p" off "pass" which may be appropriate) to ec, Philip, and Lorna.
Oh, were you wondering about the explosions that are rocking my world (first paragraph)? It's literally true. For the past week, they have been blasting on the road behind our house. They are going to widen it, and the bedrock is very close to the surface here, so, yes, we're having a real blast. So real that it shakes the house.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
A Little Right and and a Little Wrong
Last Sunday, Theboy put snow tires on his car and volunteered to do mine. Says I to Theboy, "No, it's too early."
Wrong: we've since had a fairly major storm (for November). unfortunately, I have negotiate a fair drive later today — sans snow tires.
On Tuesday, we arrived home late in the afternoon but decided to clear out the garage anyway. There wasn't much left to do: take the bikes downstairs and put some stuff up in the rafters.
Right: because the car (Harriet the Chariot) spent her first night in about seven months in the garage, and it snowed that night for the first time (apart from three isolated flakes days earlier).
On Thursday night we enjoyed (yeah sure) our first major winter dumping.
Right: Harriet was back in garage all snug and safe.
On Friday my in-laws drove the bad roads from Toronto (partly because they were smart enough to purchase and install new snow tires).
Right on: because they're not just relatives but friends.
On Saturday morning there was still plenty of snow, and it was still falling — gently by then.
Right: I was able to go for a walk and photo shoot in the woods with my BIL and niece. In the freshly fallen snow. Me with two wonderfulrelatives friends. Taking pictures.
Right on: and this is a pretty good result, doncha think?
Wrong: as nice and pretty as the snow is, it's rather early for our street to look like this. I mean, it's still officially autumn. Sure it is.
Now, it's almost 1:00 AM, and I have a big day tomorrow, so I'm going to bed.
Right.
Wrong: we've since had a fairly major storm (for November). unfortunately, I have negotiate a fair drive later today — sans snow tires.
On Tuesday, we arrived home late in the afternoon but decided to clear out the garage anyway. There wasn't much left to do: take the bikes downstairs and put some stuff up in the rafters.
Right: because the car (Harriet the Chariot) spent her first night in about seven months in the garage, and it snowed that night for the first time (apart from three isolated flakes days earlier).
On Thursday night we enjoyed (yeah sure) our first major winter dumping.
Right: Harriet was back in garage all snug and safe.
On Friday my in-laws drove the bad roads from Toronto (partly because they were smart enough to purchase and install new snow tires).
Right on: because they're not just relatives but friends.
On Saturday morning there was still plenty of snow, and it was still falling — gently by then.
Right: I was able to go for a walk and photo shoot in the woods with my BIL and niece. In the freshly fallen snow. Me with two wonderful
Right on: and this is a pretty good result, doncha think?
Wrong: as nice and pretty as the snow is, it's rather early for our street to look like this. I mean, it's still officially autumn. Sure it is.
Now, it's almost 1:00 AM, and I have a big day tomorrow, so I'm going to bed.
Right.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
In Google ...
In my last post, I presented you with several photos while lamenting the fact that my blog template (of the old fashioned variety) didn't support Blogger's new slideshow function. However, there is sometimes than one way to skin a cat overcome an obstacle. And, of course, it is yet another Google service that comes to the rescue. I have found that one can use Google Photos (aka Picasa Web Albums) to accomplish the same task. You upload your photos, select Embed Slideshow and cut and paste the code they supply into your post. What could be simpler?
It's free too. I wonder why my paid Flickr account can't produce similar code?
Everybody chant with me: "In Google We Trust."
These photos are all from our recent trip to the cottage. Some of them you have already seen. Expect more at a later date because I haven't yet processed and uploaded all of the photos from this shoot.
By the way, I believe everyone who has a Blogger account has access to a free Picasa Web Album. I am proof that you don't require Picasa to use it. I upload pictures to the web album the same way that we upload them to Blogger.
It's free too. I wonder why my paid Flickr account can't produce similar code?
Everybody chant with me: "In Google We Trust."
These photos are all from our recent trip to the cottage. Some of them you have already seen. Expect more at a later date because I haven't yet processed and uploaded all of the photos from this shoot.
By the way, I believe everyone who has a Blogger account has access to a free Picasa Web Album. I am proof that you don't require Picasa to use it. I upload pictures to the web album the same way that we upload them to Blogger.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
It Was a Fine Frosty Morning
Although the rest of this post has nothing to do with the holiday, I'd like to wish all of my American friends a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving.
Well then, after beginning to post more frequently about two weeks ago, once again I have stumbled into sparse times. Because my tiny brain can only focus on a limited number of things at once, ye olde blog gets shunted to the side rail every so often. What with company coming and generally busy times looming just ahead, the dearth will most likely continue for the next week or so. Fortunately, I can usually find a few photos to mesmerize you with when I am too preoccupied to dabble into deep thoughts and breathless prose.
When were at the cottage two weekends past, we woke up to a very frosty morning. Because I am not exactly an early morning person, I guess I missed the best opportunities for photos, but here are a few.
You can just see a little frost on the far bank in this next and last shot.
I guess that's about it for a few days although I might try to post a few more before next week, except to note that it seems that the newer blog templates can facilitate the addition of slideshows. Unfortunately, even though I am in the new Blogger, my templates are of the old variety, so I am prevented from entertainingyou myself in this fashion. Drat!
Well then, after beginning to post more frequently about two weeks ago, once again I have stumbled into sparse times. Because my tiny brain can only focus on a limited number of things at once, ye olde blog gets shunted to the side rail every so often. What with company coming and generally busy times looming just ahead, the dearth will most likely continue for the next week or so. Fortunately, I can usually find a few photos to mesmerize you with when I am too preoccupied to dabble into deep thoughts and breathless prose.
When were at the cottage two weekends past, we woke up to a very frosty morning. Because I am not exactly an early morning person, I guess I missed the best opportunities for photos, but here are a few.
You can just see a little frost on the far bank in this next and last shot.
I guess that's about it for a few days although I might try to post a few more before next week, except to note that it seems that the newer blog templates can facilitate the addition of slideshows. Unfortunately, even though I am in the new Blogger, my templates are of the old variety, so I am prevented from entertaining
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Battening Down and Gearing Up
The Battening
We aren't exactly going out in shirtsleeves anymore or even light jackets if it comes to that. And though we're not facing winter yet, there were some shallow pockets of snow up at the cottage last weekend. So we ready ourselves for the next season to roll in. While we aren't ready to install snow tires yet, we have been emptying the garage for its winter occupant — the car — which we keep outside in the better weather. But come this time of year, the bicycles go down to the basement and lawnmowers and other items go up on shelves to make room for the vehicle which we prefer to keep protected in winter.
The Gearing
And we begin to gear up for Christmas. Next Saturday will be our annual tree decorating party at the kids' place. Cuppa began the tradition many years ago. We'd have my parents and sometimes other friends over to both help and celebrate the putting up of our tree. We'd have munchies and music and fellowship and dinner. Now, we are the grandparents and the invitees.
We don't put up a big tree anymore, but we do have two little, pre-lit ones and many other decorations to give the place a festive look and feel. In part we do it in preparation for the official tree decorating next Saturday as well as the town's Santa Claus parade, but we also want to make the place Christmasy for our niece who will be visiting us from Korea later this week. She misses Christmas, so we'd like to make it as nice as possible for her before she heads overseas again in about two weeks.
In the spirit of the season, the kids had this picture printed to send out with their Christmas cards. So, I scanned it for you to gush over. Isn't she the cutest baby ever?
We aren't exactly going out in shirtsleeves anymore or even light jackets if it comes to that. And though we're not facing winter yet, there were some shallow pockets of snow up at the cottage last weekend. So we ready ourselves for the next season to roll in. While we aren't ready to install snow tires yet, we have been emptying the garage for its winter occupant — the car — which we keep outside in the better weather. But come this time of year, the bicycles go down to the basement and lawnmowers and other items go up on shelves to make room for the vehicle which we prefer to keep protected in winter.
The Gearing
And we begin to gear up for Christmas. Next Saturday will be our annual tree decorating party at the kids' place. Cuppa began the tradition many years ago. We'd have my parents and sometimes other friends over to both help and celebrate the putting up of our tree. We'd have munchies and music and fellowship and dinner. Now, we are the grandparents and the invitees.
We don't put up a big tree anymore, but we do have two little, pre-lit ones and many other decorations to give the place a festive look and feel. In part we do it in preparation for the official tree decorating next Saturday as well as the town's Santa Claus parade, but we also want to make the place Christmasy for our niece who will be visiting us from Korea later this week. She misses Christmas, so we'd like to make it as nice as possible for her before she heads overseas again in about two weeks.
In the spirit of the season, the kids had this picture printed to send out with their Christmas cards. So, I scanned it for you to gush over. Isn't she the cutest baby ever?
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Tough Day
What a day! After driving home yesterday (and it was a nice drive even if I did drive by lots of good photo ops), I didn't sleep well or much last night. And today I paid. And I made some bad decisions which caused to pay even more dearly than necessary.
To wit: we just had a new Wal-Mart open up, the kind with the full-fledged grocery store. And we needed groceries, so I thought to try out the new place. Folks: don't try out new grocery stores when you're so dog-tired that you can barely shuffle your feet.
And shuffle I did, back and forth and forth and back looking for items. After umpteen of these shuffle-abouts which yielded most of my items save wheat bran, I finally found a clerk to ask the whereabouts of this item. After explaining as best I could what wheat bran was, he looked about where I had looked and then called in more expert help. After explaining to the more expert clerk about wheat bran, she looked in all of the same places. To no avail.
So, off I went to usual grocery store to obtain wheat bran. And, of course, I arrived home grumpy. And decided to take a nap.
I don't nap often. I can't even remember the last time I napped. It other words, in wasn't recently. But don't you know that the phone soon rang anyway.
So, it's nice to have some reminders of a nice weekend at the cottage. Here are two photos. They are both by the mighty Crowe River but from different spots,; the first looks south and the second north.
To wit: we just had a new Wal-Mart open up, the kind with the full-fledged grocery store. And we needed groceries, so I thought to try out the new place. Folks: don't try out new grocery stores when you're so dog-tired that you can barely shuffle your feet.
And shuffle I did, back and forth and forth and back looking for items. After umpteen of these shuffle-abouts which yielded most of my items save wheat bran, I finally found a clerk to ask the whereabouts of this item. After explaining as best I could what wheat bran was, he looked about where I had looked and then called in more expert help. After explaining to the more expert clerk about wheat bran, she looked in all of the same places. To no avail.
So, off I went to usual grocery store to obtain wheat bran. And, of course, I arrived home grumpy. And decided to take a nap.
I don't nap often. I can't even remember the last time I napped. It other words, in wasn't recently. But don't you know that the phone soon rang anyway.
So, it's nice to have some reminders of a nice weekend at the cottage. Here are two photos. They are both by the mighty Crowe River but from different spots,; the first looks south and the second north.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Silly Me
Yes, I am silly. On our weekend trip, I kept noticing that tamarack trees provided almost the only tree colour that yet remains. I saw a lot and finally, just as I was contemplating posting a short note and picture, I came across two beautiful specimens wonderfully lit by the relatively low sun. There they were, right in front of me, on a bend in the road. It was a rural road, a very rural road with no traffic to speak of, so I could have stopped. Easily. But I dithered and had driven by before I could think properly. So, I kept on going.
That was really silly especially since it was on my mind and I was presented with a fantastic shot. But I didn't, so here are some pictures that I found on Flickr and are listed as public. So, I use them, but I would prefer to post my own. Oh well.
Perhaps you don't know about tamarack. I didn't up until a few years ago. Here's a brief description from the web site of the Yukon Territories.
The tamarack belongs the larch family. These trees are the only conifers that lose their needles in winter. The needles turn yellow in late autumn and are shed, then grown again in spring. These soft, flexible needles are arranged on the branches in clusters of 10 to 20.
The cones grow upright on the branches and stay on the trees over winter and through the following summer. Male and female cones occur on the same tree.
Tamaracks are found throughout most of the forested areas in the Northwest Territories. It is a tree of cold, wet places, occurring in sphagnum bogs and swamps. It grows with black spruce in open muskeg, and aspen and birch on better drained soils.
The cones grow upright on the branches and stay on the trees over winter and through the following summer. Male and female cones occur on the same tree.
Tamaracks are found throughout most of the forested areas in the Northwest Territories. It is a tree of cold, wet places, occurring in sphagnum bogs and swamps. It grows with black spruce in open muskeg, and aspen and birch on better drained soils.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
New Theme
Many will know that I have seasonal templates like the Halloween one that I just scrapped (for this year). Last week, I decided that it was past time to post my autumn template, except I didn't have one. I guess I've made that nasty Halloween one last until December in previous years. So, here's an attempt at a genuine autumn theme. It's been so long since I worked on a template that I was rusty (and still am), but I prevailed. And then my web host decided to be unfriendly to me and make things difficult, but where there's a will ...
I think I have one more post in the grandpa series, but that will have to wait because we plan to head to the cottage for a few days. While I may post something else from the turtle-like connection up there, I leave grandpa here — between the pages of the photo album — until I return.
I think I have one more post in the grandpa series, but that will have to wait because we plan to head to the cottage for a few days. While I may post something else from the turtle-like connection up there, I leave grandpa here — between the pages of the photo album — until I return.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Some Memories of Grampa
Apart from what I wrote yesterday, I don't have many specific recollections about my interactions with grandfather, but here are a few things that I do recall. First: this is he as a young man, working in a greenhouse, possibly his own. (Butterfly may be interested in zooming in on his left eye.)
AC does a Naughty at Grampa's
You might recall that grampa was a gardener, but I once tried to throw a monkey wrench into the works. We visited on a Sunday after church, and sometime that afternoon, I found myself roaming around in his garden. I saw all of these neat markers by the sides of each row, and something possessed me to pull them up ... and put them in my pocket. But then it must have occurred to me that I shouldn't have done that, so I kept them hidden in my pocket all of the way home on the bus. When I got home, I threw them down a drain out by the sidewalk.
The next time we visited, I overheard grampa say to my parents, "The last time you were here someone took my garden markers." I was clever enough not to react in any way, and he added, "It must have been some of the neighbourhood kids."
Phew!
I don't think my initial act was done with mischievous intent, but at some point I realized that this was not something that I should have done and was clever enough to hide and then get rid of the evidence.
My Solo Visits
It was probably in the summer when I was eight that I visited the grands on my own. Memory informs me that this occurred more than once, but it doesn't tell me whether it was more than twice. It sounds odd when I tell you these visits took place because my mother was working and didn't want me to be alone all day. So, I got on a bus, by myself, and went to my grandparents' house. Strange: they didn't come to me; I went to them. On a bus by myself. Times were such that I was pretty unafraid and confident in some ways at least, and it didn't bother me at all to make the trip on my own. It does seem strange in retrospect, however.
I do remember going for a walk with grampa and stopping at a bookstore or at least a store that sold books. I had enough money to buy one, but grampa wanted to buy it for me. For whatever reason, I was concerned about the state of his finances and was determined that he shouldn't. But then the clerk or cashier wisely said to me, "I think your grandfather wants to buy this for you." So I let him.
A Tough Old Guy
On one of these visits, I remember sitting on the floor rolling a wooden ball to grampa. I think it was a ball to a little in-the-house bowling set. I'd roll it hard to him, and he would roll it back to me. But I remember worrying that I was rolling it too hard for the old guy. That seems odd to me now because I have since come to realize that he must have been a pretty tough fellow.
My dad used to recount how on grampa's first winter (from England) he didn't even have to wear a full winter coat — in a Canadian winter! I think he also said that grampa worked on some sort of forestry operation in the Eastern Townships (of Quebec) that winter — an activity not for the faint of heart or weak of muscle. In my previous post I mentioned how he continued to work even in his seventies, and I also know that even on the day that he died of a heart attack (at home in the afternoon), he had worked in the morning — cutting the neighbour's grass. Oddly enough my maternal grandfather died later in the same year, 1958. It couldn't have been easy for my parents.
I remember visiting in the funeral home, and I wasn't upset or repulsed by seeing him there. I touched his hand, and a person whom I called aunt but who wasn't really, told me not to do that, but my dad said that it was okay. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could talk to these people now as adults and ask our questions and get to know them? But it doesn't work that way, and kids just don't think and appreciate. What I do really appreciate is that my mother often spoke of her memories and took the time to put together and annotate several photo albums. Part or even much of why I write posts like this is for the benefit of my own children. There may come a day when they will be glad of such tidbits, just as I am so thankful to have been told as much as I have been.
AC does a Naughty at Grampa's
You might recall that grampa was a gardener, but I once tried to throw a monkey wrench into the works. We visited on a Sunday after church, and sometime that afternoon, I found myself roaming around in his garden. I saw all of these neat markers by the sides of each row, and something possessed me to pull them up ... and put them in my pocket. But then it must have occurred to me that I shouldn't have done that, so I kept them hidden in my pocket all of the way home on the bus. When I got home, I threw them down a drain out by the sidewalk.
The next time we visited, I overheard grampa say to my parents, "The last time you were here someone took my garden markers." I was clever enough not to react in any way, and he added, "It must have been some of the neighbourhood kids."
Phew!
I don't think my initial act was done with mischievous intent, but at some point I realized that this was not something that I should have done and was clever enough to hide and then get rid of the evidence.
My Solo Visits
It was probably in the summer when I was eight that I visited the grands on my own. Memory informs me that this occurred more than once, but it doesn't tell me whether it was more than twice. It sounds odd when I tell you these visits took place because my mother was working and didn't want me to be alone all day. So, I got on a bus, by myself, and went to my grandparents' house. Strange: they didn't come to me; I went to them. On a bus by myself. Times were such that I was pretty unafraid and confident in some ways at least, and it didn't bother me at all to make the trip on my own. It does seem strange in retrospect, however.
I do remember going for a walk with grampa and stopping at a bookstore or at least a store that sold books. I had enough money to buy one, but grampa wanted to buy it for me. For whatever reason, I was concerned about the state of his finances and was determined that he shouldn't. But then the clerk or cashier wisely said to me, "I think your grandfather wants to buy this for you." So I let him.
A Tough Old Guy
On one of these visits, I remember sitting on the floor rolling a wooden ball to grampa. I think it was a ball to a little in-the-house bowling set. I'd roll it hard to him, and he would roll it back to me. But I remember worrying that I was rolling it too hard for the old guy. That seems odd to me now because I have since come to realize that he must have been a pretty tough fellow.
My dad used to recount how on grampa's first winter (from England) he didn't even have to wear a full winter coat — in a Canadian winter! I think he also said that grampa worked on some sort of forestry operation in the Eastern Townships (of Quebec) that winter — an activity not for the faint of heart or weak of muscle. In my previous post I mentioned how he continued to work even in his seventies, and I also know that even on the day that he died of a heart attack (at home in the afternoon), he had worked in the morning — cutting the neighbour's grass. Oddly enough my maternal grandfather died later in the same year, 1958. It couldn't have been easy for my parents.
I remember visiting in the funeral home, and I wasn't upset or repulsed by seeing him there. I touched his hand, and a person whom I called aunt but who wasn't really, told me not to do that, but my dad said that it was okay. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could talk to these people now as adults and ask our questions and get to know them? But it doesn't work that way, and kids just don't think and appreciate. What I do really appreciate is that my mother often spoke of her memories and took the time to put together and annotate several photo albums. Part or even much of why I write posts like this is for the benefit of my own children. There may come a day when they will be glad of such tidbits, just as I am so thankful to have been told as much as I have been.
Monday, November 05, 2007
On the Estate with Grampa
A blog that I read a while ago caused me to ponder that the closest we ever came to rubbing shoulders with the well-heeled was through my paternal grandfather. That's him above with me and my Dad. I am guessing that I was three or four and that it was 1950 or 1951. I scanned it because I had thought that it was taken on the estate on which my grandfather worked, but the buildings in the background tend to indicate that it was taken elsewhere, quite possibly at his house, for I do recall that he had quite a garden in the side yard. Nevertheless, I am touched by the way that he has his arm on my shoulder. I don't recall any physical affection from any of my grandparents, but now having a grand of my own, I figure that their own British ways they probably quite taken with their grandson.
I am surprised that Gramps is shorter than his son, my dad, who was not very tall at all. I have never fully realized his diminutive stature until now when scanning the photos has caused me to look at them more closely. He passed away when I was ten (I think), so all adults were still probably large to me. As you can probably tell, he wore a bad hairpiece, but I never knew that until later although I remember thinking that his hair was a might odd. The men of this family don't keep their hair very well.
The photos above and below are really what prompted this post, for I remember that, in the summer, we would visit him on the estate on which we worked. Well, we did it at least twice as the two pictures indicate. (He reminds me of Marlon Brando as The Godfather in the photo below.)
It was an estate in Montreal. My grampa was in his seventies but still worked for The Lady Gordon. He was the gardener or groundskeeper for the well-to-do widow on a pretty large piece of property with extensive lawns and gardens. We never got to meet the lady or get into the house, but we'd visit in the shed and stroll the grounds and pet the dog, Sally.
I have several recollections of these visits. I remember once being thirsty and being offered water. "Would you like it in a glass or a mug?" I chose a glass because I didn't know what the heck a mug was. Rather than ask, I went with the glass. I wonder why I wouldn't ask.
Perhaps it was on the same visit, but I remember sitting on a red tractor in the shed and grampa telling my dad that he was going to use it on the next working day. I know that I said something such as "You're going to drive it?" and my eye's must have lit up because the grownups all recognized my excitement and chuckled at me. I think I wanted him to invite me back for a ride the next day, but, of course, he didn't. I wonder why he wouldn't have taken me out that day?
There was a time (I think this was a year or two later than the photos) when I wanted to grow a pumpkin from seed. My mother suggested that I have grampa plant it for me. I guess I thought that was a good idea, but, somehow, when the time came to collect the pumpkin, I knew that it was not from my seed. There was something about the way it was recalled when either I or my parents reminded him. Kids are smart enough, and I just knew. I didn't feel particularly bad about it, but I guess I didn't feel all that good about it either because I do remember.
I wonder what else I will remember? I'm pretty sure that I will have to write more now that I've started.
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