Went Dancin’ Last Night

10 Mar

Went dancing last night. Yes, I know, disbelievers, but I do dance. No, not by myself.

Seems S-S and I crashed a party. We’ve done that before at a Parrot-Head convention in Key West but that’s another story.

For the first Twenty minutes or so of music we were the only couple dancing, the sole, single solitary couple. An eerie feeling. Had we crashed a funeral? So we took a break and went outside for a bit of fresh air.

Well it seems that before dancing can start there must be three conditions met:

  1.  Wine and beer must be consumed in copious quantities
  2. The meal must be served

And then the most important condition of all: 3. The DJ must play Alice. You know, Alice. A little dittie about living next door to Alice. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.

The tune started. The dance floor was instantly packed, like the Tokyo subway in rush hour

You haven’t lived until you’ve seen and heard 60, 70 and 80 year olds screaming out the improvised, four-letter add-on to the song. On one level I see it as  a celebration of life; on the other hand, aren’t they just ‘dirty old people’?

I tend to lean to the former since I was also up there yellin’ and hootin’.

Living Next Door to Alice

Living Next Door to Alice

Here is a link to the song just in case you are still pretending to not know what I’m talking about.

There now, aren’t you happy you are enlightened. I know some of my children think I walk on water and am above such crass things as dancing but the truth is, life is too good to just keep getting your feet wet, and I do like to dance.

And for those of you who still claim to have not known the song your life education is now complete and you have discovered a new ear worm that you can hum along to in a crowded elevator or in a business meeting. See who joins in.

It’s Tough Being A Cool Dude

27 Feb

Went to a blues jam session today. Had to wear my “cool dude hat”. S-S says that if I have to call it a cool dude hat I ain’t a cool dude. We cool dudes ignore comments like that, most of the time.

Cool Dude Hat

Cool Dude Hat

Six months ago S-S told me I should be wearing said hat more straight. As if cool dudes wear their hats straight! So, I jumped right on it to check, that is, six months later, today. I noticed that if the hat brim was straight, the crown was off. If the crown was straight the brim was off. S-S said the hat’s OK. It’s my head that’s off.  Cool dudes ignore comments like that, most of time.

So off to the jam session we go, cool dude and fashion/posture critic. It’s said that in a bar after drinking four or five beer you see only beautiful people there. I don’t drink beer so I have trouble finding the beautiful people. But I do drink lemonade. After four or five lemonades I don’t look for the beautiful people, I’m looking for the bathroom. Trying to hop to the distant loo, through the crowd,  with my legs crossed, and one hand holding on to my cool dude hat is something only a cool dude can handle.

Coming out of said facility, I hear, “Hey, cool hat, dude!” Yes, vindication! Cool dudes don’t ever ignore comments like that. Waiter, five more lemonades!

Mowing the House, Or Green Grow the Houses, O

22 Feb

I always thought mowing the friggin’ driveway was  challenge.

I’d like to meet the person who has to do this house in Wales. I showed it to Brute. He said it made his wheels feel sore just looking at it.

How do you mow this?

How do you mow this?

How do they do the fiddly bits around the windows?

I Could’a Been A Star

30 Jan

Went to a blues jam session today. The sound of the harmonica brought back a flood of memories. I could’a been a star!

horses-behindPicture this: London 1956. The Boy Scout troop, the Kiwis. My patrol, the Peewits (I kid you not.) We are going to put on a big concert in the local school. I loved to sing; therefore I must have a great voice. I auditioned and ended up as part of a dancing horse, the hind part; OK the horse’s rear end; OK  then, as the horse’s arse! I could’a been a star!

Now picture this. It’s the mid ’60s. I am a camp counselor. Off to sing campfire songs. I bought myself a guitar thinking someone at camp would be able to give some lessons. With guitar on my back, Kumbaya  and Michael Row The Boat Ashore dancing through my head I hitchhiked to the camp.  Watch out Joan Baez and Peter, Paul and Mary.  It was the ’60s remember. But, surprise, surprise, no-one at that darned camp knew how to play a guitar! So no-one got to hear my chords, my plunking away, my embryonic talent. It might have helped also if I knew how to tune the thing. Eventually gave it away to a nursery school teacher who claimed to be able to play it. Hah! I could’a been a star!

scared-dog-4Many years later my innate musical talents burst forth again to entertain the world. I bought a harmonica. Oh those sweet sounds from my harp, the blues world beckoning me. Watch out Little Walter, Charlie Musselwhite and the like, ‘Blues Barry’ is coming to town. I practised and practised. ‘Where’s the catch?’ you might ask. That came in the form of our little wheaten terrier, Ginny, who for some reason or other didn’t like my playing style. Now a normal dog when frightened will run away and hide after a bark or two. Not Ginny. She would come and sit in front of me, eyes wide, trembling, shaking, quivering, quaking, glued to the carpet, upon which she would then pee profusely. ‘Stop it, you’re scaring the dog,’ would come the yell from the kitchen. No mercy from the critics. No more harmonica playing. I could’a been a star!

Early Rising

15 Jan

people-who-get-up-earlyHad to get up early just the other day. What an experience!

There I was downtown at 9:00. Yes, that’s 9:00 in the morning! Shops were open. People were walking around, even talking to each other. And I hadn’t even had my coffee yet

Sometimes it’s good to break routines and find out how others live in this world. But let’s not get carried away. This is not the new norm. Thank goodness I could recuperate with an afternoon nap. Life can be tough sometimes but only we the strong will survive.

9:00 a.m.. Who invented such an ungodly hour!

 

Thank Goodness For Warm Homes

18 Dec
Deer wallows outside our bedroom window

Deer wallows outside our bedroom window

One week to Christmas. The recent cold snap is almost over. -30 before the windchill isn’t much fun.

Yet our ‘deer’ friends somehow survive without blankets, heaters, furnaces and the like. Incredible! The photo is of eight wallows where they hunker down for the night just outside our bedroom: belly on the frozen ground, backs to the cold stars. Quite the herd.

12 Sep
Tightening down the boat tarp for winter

Tightening down the boat tarp for winter

Sometimes things come together in perfect harmony.

We needed to cover the boat for the winter. The day was sunny and warm with hardly any wind. Not too hot, not too cold, just right to tuck and tape and tie. The Gimli airport where the boat is stored was surprisingly busy with air cadets practicing their gliding skills; helicopters buzzing by; cars drag-racing on the speedway; sky-divers floating down to the tarmac. An experience you can only find in Gimli.

A little side note. Sometime ago I wanted to buy S-S and myself sailing hats. Mine would Read “Captain”, hers would read “Crew”. She gave me the look that only S-S can give me, and said only if her hat read “Admiral”. We didn’t buy the hats.

Skydiving at Gimli Airport

Skydiving at Gimli Airport

No Relaxing On The Deck Today

12 Jul
No Relaxing On The Deck Today

No Relaxing On The Deck Today

Mucho rain last night. Thunderstorms forecast for today. Lottsa squishy corpses sharing the deck. Any volunteers wanna help me shovel and sweep them off? Nah, I didn’t think so. Somehow I think It’s going to be me, just me. Why do I get to have all the fun?

Fish Fly Season.’Nuff Said

11 Jul
Fish Fly Bonanza

Fish Fly Bonanza

They’re baaack! This, just one window view. They are also outside the house, on the deck, the lawn, the trees, anything that moves.

Isn’t there some way we could make them into a food source? Fish fly patties, fish fly kabobs, fish fly chowder? Or booze? Where are all the creative chefs and moonshiners when you need them?

Ah well, they will soon be flying away and procreating their little wings off.

They will die happy in their short lives but the evidence and aroma of their little corpses will last forever.

We and the Tree

23 Jun

Trees. Ya gotta love ’em or cut ’em down, or at least part of them.

A beautiful lakeside ash has storm damage. Of course it’s at the top, the unreachable, unscalable, unclimable top. I’ve tried yanking it, swinging from it, swearing at it. Nothing worked, except the last choice felt really good for a while, a very short while. The brown, dead leaves are a blight on my sense of aesthetics.

We and the tree. Mr Bill and yours truly, happy, optimistic. Before the truth but not the branch came crashing down.

We and the tree. Mr Bill and yours truly, happy, optimistic. Before the truth but not the branch came crashing down.

Calling Mr. Bill. You might remember him from a few years back helping put on the boat tarp. Among others Mr Bill has three exceptional qualities: he’s tall, not afraid of heights, and when asked he said OK.

We put the ladder on one side of the tree and climbed and cut and hacked and sawed and cursed. We put the ladder on the other side climbed, cut, hacked, sawed, and swore. Swore at heavy ladders, fumed at twigs and limbs that scratched and gouged. I think the tree was laughing at us. Stupid tree.

We and the Tree. One of us knows what he's doing. Hint: not the one at the bottom of the ladder.

We and the Tree. One of us knows what he’s doing. Hint: not the one at the bottom of the ladder.

Well we ended up with a lot of debris and trimmings all over the yard, but that damaged branch was unreachable and uncuttable. Haughty in its deadness.  in short, the damned thing is still there, mocking us. Maybe sometime this decade it will just fall down itself and break its stupid tree-neck, probably while Brute and I are underneath mowing the lawn.

Ah well, Mr Bill had to go back home and climb up on his roof to help adjust his TV satellite dish.

We and the Tree. Sad conclusion. Me taking out my frustration cutting firewood ouut of tree bits

We and the Tree. Sad conclusion. Me taking out my frustration cutting firewood ouut of tree bits

Me? I got out the chain saw and started cutting up the debris for firewood. Varooom, varooom, cut, gouge! Take that you stupid tree bits. Ha ha. I have the power. You, tree, are not the boss of me. Take that, and that. Varoom, varoom! Oh, I think I’d better quit. I’m hyperventilating and I need some comfort food.