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.

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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.

‘Nuff Said, Friday the 13th

13 May

Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up early at the ungodly hour of 9:30, stagger to the bathroom, and on looking in the mirror you can’t figure out whether you nose hairs are growing down into you moustache or your moustache hairs up into your nose,  and you you should probably go back to bed? Yes, I’m sure you all have. It’s Friday  13th. ‘Nuff said.

Friday 13th May 2016Yes, that is snow today. Temperature soared to 0°C. It’s May, Friday 13th.  ‘Nuff said.

Went shopping. On coming home the garage door opened to let the car in but then wouldn’t close all the way and decided to remain jammed halfway. Car trapped inside. Had to check the mechanism box: gear and worm screw stripped and need replacement. Oh joy! Me and electricity and mechanical repairs. Better check medical insurance. Friday 13th. ‘Nuff said.

Meanwhile discovered  a lone can of soda pop, carelessly left in the garage fridge over the -30°C winter, had decided to explode. It has hardened, solidified, something like granite. S-S hasn’t volunteered to clean it up. Friday 13th. ‘Nuff said.

Back into the bathroom after all this trauma, checked into the mirror to see how much I’ve aged over the past few hours. Horror! My eyebrows now grow up vertically! But I only just turned thirty some forty years ago. The eyebrow bush has become a tangled jungle reaching up my forehead! I’m beginning to look Like a mad scientist, or even worse, a blog writer!  Maybe I’ll get a new mirror. Happy Friday 13th. ‘Nuff said.

 

 

Me and the Mouse

8 Mar

scary mouseMany, many years ago when I was not as cool as I am now there was an epic battle between me and a rodent.

I was at work pondering things such as String Theory and its eleven dimensional universe, and how to remove the chewy caramel stuck between my teeth, when the phone rang.

She: You gotta come home now!

Me: Okaay?

She: I’m in the kitchen on the counter!

Me: Okaaay? Why are you on the counter?

She: There’s a mouse in the apartment and he’s sitting there staring at me!

Me: Oh. Okay.

By the time I got home she was still in the kitchen, on the counter.

She: It’s in the bedroom. Get it! Get it!

Noble sire that I am I armed myself with broom and bucket. It was a nasty, vicious battle, attacking and retreating many times. Finally I had the four legged devil in the bucket. Off to the building’s garbage chute. Victory as I closed the chute with a satisfying clang. I was a hero that had overcome tooth and claw. Such power!? Such bravery!

That evening there was a soft knock at the door. There stood  a teary eight year old who lived on the same floor.

He: Have you seen my gerbil? I love my gerbil. I only got him today and he escaped. I really love my gerbil!

Me: Uhm, uhm, oh.

 

 

 

Some People Just Can’t Seem To Take A Compliment

17 Jan

 

Sometimes no matter how hard I try I can’t get people to appreciate my generosity, my admiration for the results of their hard work.

Recently S-S and I with friends had the unpleasure of having to renovate a condo that tenants had basically trashed after living there for nine years. Big ugh factor. We essentially spent the entire Christmas and New Years period doing major – and I mean MAJOR – cleaning painting and flooring. Big time Ack on this stuff! Not my favourite activity! No way, especially at Christmas. ‘Holmes on Holmes’ can keep this non-delight to himself and his minions,

Anyway, S-S was doing a major cleanup of the door knobs that were covered in tape and paint and some other disgusting grey stuff that was its own ecosystem. She was using Brasso and some liquid that would remove skin, warts and nasal hairs. The results were fantastic. The door knobs glowed a soft pewter-brass, like sun through a light mist on a summer’s day. I was so impressed with the excellent result. But had breathed in too many paint fumes. I merely said,

“That’s fantastic! You’re the Queen of the Knobs!”

offwith his headThe look I got was one of “Off with his head!” or some body part lower down.

I tell ya, some people just can’t seem to take a compliment.

 

Happy Christmas And I Really Mean It

20 Dec

Christmas 2015The snow is here, and the cold. I want to thank my many devoted fans, lovers of the finely crafted thought piece. Thank you for hanging in there over the long drought.

Soon the climate and locale will encourage more posts. Meanwhile, do you have people who really tick you off? Two of mine are the following:

  1. People Who do not honour their commitments or promises, who let you down or don’t perform or show up as expected;
  2. People who don’t recognize a gratuitous offer of help and then expect you to follow through, to commit, to show up or perform.

Gad such people are irritating!

Now some of you might find the above confusing, even contradictory. But let me remind you that I am talking about OTHER people. Since this is my blog it makes perfect sense. Think of it as  Christmas Zen koan, something like “what is the sound of one hand clapping?”Just something to keep your mind active as you open all those presents and eat all that turkey.

But people I do like are those who know how to celebrate Christmas as a time of joy that is different from other times of the year. No mean feat in this day and age.

Celebrate like there’s no tomorrow. Happy Christmas (English version) or Merry Christmas (North American version) to all.

 

Not Quite Ready For 747 International Flights

26 Aug
The Gimli Airport Terminal

The Gimli Airport Terminal

I was busy today getting the boat ready for winter storage. On my way to check out the mast I came across the Gimli Airport Terminal. Yes, you read right, airport terminal!

Sometimes somethings tell you that the size of your community needs a reality check. Gimli airport, home of the Gimli Glider, is a real airport. With a terminal. Beat that Heathrow, Pearson or LAX!

It has an accessibility ramp, so modern; one whole, single white plastic deck chair in the outdoor executive lounge; and lottsa grass; but no parking lot. It must be the ultimate in a nightime arrival in January. I think I’ll pass on that one.

I wonder what the security screening  features are like?

Ya Gotta Luv Country Living

26 Jun
I have a sign. I am all powerful. Obey my commands! Gad, I hate my job!

I have a sign. I am all powerful. Obey my commands! Gad, I hate my job!

S-S had to drive into Gimli the other day. She came to the inevitable road construction going on on highway 9 through town. The sign holders, who seem to sprout like dandelions in warm weather, blocked what was now a single lane. However, they didn’t seem to have read their job description.

There was the usual Gimli rush hour traffic jam of two cars or so. As S-S pulled up to the sign holder the sign suddenly turned to STOP.

“Well hi,” says sign lady, and continues,  “I’m hot and the bugs are something fierce. I’ve tried every bug spray there is.” She then proceeds to haul out of her orange-lime-lemon yellow vest every can, tube and bottle of Deet ever made, and to explain the pros and cons of each.

“Uh, Huh,“ says S-S in that way that can range from “Oh, how interesting!”, or “Gimme a break, lady!” (polite version.)

Meanwhile the traffic jam increased to three cars.

Sign lady finally finishes displaying her entire Deet stock and motions to S-S to drive on, at exactly the same time the other sign lady finished talking to her car at her end. Both signs now reading SLOW.

So now we have two cars squished into one lane heading towards each other with no place to turn off. What would you do? All I know is that S-S somehow made it through without a dent or scratch on the car. Coyly she will not explain the magic of how she did it.

The sign holders are still there, randomly turning their signs, spritzing themselves with bug spray, creating those horrendous Gimli traffic jams, and sending drivers into a single lane demolition derby.

Country life. Nothing like it!

Birds in Trees and Watch the Hallelujahs

19 Jun

Many, many, many years ago I was teaching an evening art history course at Sheridan College in , Oakville, ON.
It was early April and stinking hot. The school had stuck us in  a portable, no air conditioning. Everybody had just bought brand new $80 (expensive in those days) text books: big, fat, and heavy, with lottsa pretty pictures. A student suggested we have the class outside, plein air, under the shade of a big oak tree.  Birds were singing in the tree, evening song; hundreds of them.

A slight cooling breeze came up. “Hallelujah”, I shouted in the cooling zephyr.

They're smarter then we think!

They’re smarter then we think!

“Screech, squawk, croak,” went 500+ birds taking flight.

“Screech, squawk, croak, Aaagh Eeuw!” went 30 students as 500 fleeing birds crapped all over their brand new $80 text books, and their hair, and their faces, and their  clothes.
Me, I wasn’t under the tree. A fact soon noticed by what was becoming an avian-poop-encased mob.
“Oh”, I quietly whispered, “Shall we call it a night?”
Silence. No birds. No students. It happened so quickly.

Of String Bikinis and Christmases Past

13 Apr

Have you ever had one of those moments when what you thought would happen, wished would happen, didn’t? Like that time at Christmas long ago when you so wanted a new bike or that record player. Instead all you got was a box of crayons, or even worse, clothes!

 

String Bikini Fantasy

String Bikini Fantasy

My most recent moment was a few days ago. S-S and a friend I’ll call Super-D were shopping in a local market. They stopped and started handling string bikinis. Little itsy bitsy teenie weenie string bikinis. Heaven on earth.

My heart started pounding harder, and faster, and faster. Drool and sweat started to flow. I was starting to dehydrate.

 
Then with that sense that only wives have S-S, without even turning around, said,

“Cool it. We’re just admiring the hangers.”

Hangers??? Hangers!!! It was like that Christmas all those years ago. So high, then so low. Oh the humanity!