Picture This

It's not so much that we felt a compelling urge to see another movie, but we have been very keen to visit the town's theatre. It is somewhat unusual for theatres to continue to exist in small places like ours, especially when they are close to large cities, but Mills has one. It resides in the basement of an old church, under the main floor fitness centre. Of course, we have been intrigued enough to want to pay a visit, especially because, indicated by the sign, it plays current, popular movies.

We descended the short flight of steepish stairs to be greeted right at the bottom by the personable proprietor who was manning the till: an ancient relic perched on a small counter (the cash register I mean). We talked amicably as we forked over our twelve bucks — yup, only six bucks each, four-fifty on cheap Tuesday, less for seniors — and he introduced us his old German Shepherd, Misha, who to our great delight contentedly, sprawled his ample bod over about half of the lobby. Because there's nothing to compare him with in the photo, you'll have to take my word (or not, if you are one of the legions who doubt my credibility) that Misha is the biggest German Shepherd in the history of planet Earth. I wonder if he's always been as uptight as he was when Cuppa took this picture? <grin>

 

We purchased a small bag of popcorn at the tiny concession and proceeded into one of the two the movie rooms (see above photo). Isn't it almost too delightful for words? For whatever reason, concerts I might suppose, there's even an organ. The screen has scratches and electrical wires run visibly along the walls where bare bulbs are interspersed (see light near top left of photo). The seats are not comfy for me, but many aren't compatible with my sorry back, even in the new, plush, and grandiose edifices.

The proprietor walked to the front to introduce the film and to pump the new one, Forty Year Old Virgin, that was playing in the other room. After walking back into the glass-windowed projection room (just like the old days) and starting the film, he walked back out to listen. Not liking what he heard, he advised us that we would stop the film to eliminate the background noise. He did; it worked.

We pronounce the place and the evening delightful. How absolutely wonderful that someone would think to run such an enterprise in such a small town. I imagine that the younger set would think it corny and pine for the glitz of a modern megaplex, but I think, and more importantly, the ever redoubtable Cuppa thinks that, with all apologies to Rocky, this place is the cat's ass.

Oh yes, the movie, Just Like Heaven, was fine too: a light and inoffensive flick that could be seen and appreciated by a gamut of age groups with the possible exception of the pubescent set that would likely prefer more action, violence, and you know what else.

 

Yesterday's Treats

Three pictures from the road home yesterday on our visit to Alton and Pakenham.

 

Just the Same

A good, little day, just the same. That's how my dearly departed dad would have described it.

One of the traumas of moving, at least in this part of Canada, is the doctor shortage. There is one, you know — in just about all parts of the province. At least partly, it stems from a conservative government's unfortunate doctrine — skimping on public health capital to give tax breaks to the rich. We now pay the price; it will take years to rectify the damage caused by such short-sightedness.

In this town, as in many, there are no doctors who are open to take new patients, but we gambled that this would work out for us. It's a reasonably big gamble at this stage of life. For me and mine, at least, things start to go wrong in the sixth decade. Not terribly wrong, but wrong enough that we get it; we begin to understand where we're headed. We begin to get it loud and clear as a matter of fact.

If all else were to have failed, the town does have a hospital whose walk-in clinic enjoys a stellar reputation. Of course, everyone would still prefer to have their own, presumably dedicated, doctor. It was in this clinic that Butterfly was recently invited to join a certain doctor's patient roster. Even more recently, Butterfly asked this same doctor if she would take us on too. Yes, she would.

Both Cuppa and I could see this doctor, or I could opt to register with her male partner. The choice was mine. My first preference was for everybody in the family to be attended to by the same doctor. Secondly, in my unusual way of looking at life, I deduced that if all other things were equal, as a male I should consciously choose to be attended by a female practitioner. After all, women have been attended to by men for lo these many years, so what statement would I be making if I were to wimp out over a bit of role reversal. It might seem silly, and doubtless it is, but such are the peculiar workings of what passes for my mind.

Today was the day for our introductory meeting. We were nervous. Would we like this person, or would we now be stuck with someone with whom we we felt uncomfortable or even incompatible? In she walked, very tall, and very fit. Because of the casual nature of this initial consultation, Cuppa and I were both in the two-seat examining room. I jumped up to offer this thirty-something lady my chair. Nothing doing. She shooed me back into the chair and perched herself contentedly on the examining table. I was impressed already.

I kept on being impressed. She was great: calm, thorough, and unhurried. She listened too, without interrupting or cutting us off after five words. What strange behaviour for a doctor! As a result of her gentle thoroughness, Cuppa and I have both walked out with our tetanus shots updated, and I clung to referral slips for both physio and massage therapy. You see, after real improvement last week, my back has regressed and is plaguing me afresh this week.

What a relief! We both feel comfortable with and confident in this lady doctor.

It was a beautiful day, so we when we exited the medical offices, we opted to go for our first leisurely and exploratory drive in this new area. We followed the Mississippi river north to Alton and on to Pakenham. Both are quaint little towns; the drive was wonderfully pleasant and, sometimes, refreshingly scenic.

We stopped at a park by the Mississippi in Alton and took some pictures. This was one of them.

Nice place we've come to. Eh?

 

Mine is Big

Apparently it is so — mine is big ; a few of you are impressed enough to mention it. I speak of my blogroll, and unfortunately (for my dear one) not that other thing.

I didn't realize that is was getting so large (the blogroll, I mean), but I suppose it is. I think everybody is on it (still speaking of the blogroll), except for a few of the more recent (ahem) connections that I have made. It's my fault; I'm too loyal. If someone comments on my blog, I feel obliged to comment on theirs. If this goes back and forth a few times, a relationship is born, and a new link appears on my blogroll. (Sometimes it takes a long while between template updates, however.) Once someone has made the roll, I find myself loathe to terminate him or her, even Norma whose recent spate of conservative fulminations are driving me to distraction. It's not so much that I begrudge her convictions, but the lady posts many times per day and can only infrequently seem to omit either liberal (always mentioned in a disparaging voice) or conservative (always mentioned in a laudatory tone).

Now, there's a digression. Sorry Norma, but really now.

Dale opines that I must be able to get to all of these blogs because I am retired. Likely, he's right. But I can skim quickly if necessary, and I frequently don't pause to comment. Some posts are very difficult to comment on. How could I possibly add to -epm's post of yesterday? And what about Lynn; I'm not in the same intellectual league and don't know what he's talking about half the time. I don't know when I last commented on Mel's blog. It's not that I don't want to, but I haven't been able to think of much. After all you can only say, "You go girl," so many times before you begin to look like a total twit.

I don't go out looking for new blogs anymore, you know. There was a time when I did that. It wasn't all that long ago that my only visitors were Cuppa and Butterfly, so I would snoop around, hit next blog, or check out people who commented on the one or two blogs that I knew to read. Every now and then, I still do that but not often anymore as I seem to be busy enough tending to my already big thing.

But newcomers drop by from to time to time, and I do the polite Canadian thing, and I return the courtesy, and new relationships are forged; Colleen, Bonita, and Duprée are all newcomers, for example. I'm pretty glad that happens and more than happy embrace you — as it were.

So, yes, it's getting pretty big. But size doesn't matter. Do you hear that ... dear?

 

My Links

Okey dokey then. I think that I have my Blog Links straightened out. They should be more or less complete, but I'll apologize now for errors and omissions. There may also be a few newer blogs that I have chosen not include just yet; we'll see if both I and they choose to stay the course.

It's late, so I have probably made some typos. Please advise.

 

A New Low

I tend to live in a bit of a dream world: have always been absent-minded. Even when I was kid, my parents would get exasperated with my forgetfulness. One teacher went as far as to make me run around the classroom in a vain attempt to try to awaken me from my daydreams. Today, I descended to a new low: went to the grocery store; went through the line; paid the bill; but walked off with an empty cart.

 

A Little Irony

A few nights ago, I received an urgent email from Kathy at Bamboo Shade; she had lost her blog comments after experimenting with her template. With a little luck, we were able to reclaim them. The very next day, I was fiddling around with my own template. I lost my blog links, and I cannot help myself by reclaiming them, for although I have my template backed up, it is an old backup — quite old. In time, I will generate a new list, and with luck it may even faintly resemble my old one: perhaps with a few additions.