And….we’re ready.

Well,  I am anyway.   Travelling Companion will be staying home.

A while back there was a plan afoot to have a cottage weekend,  or “Testo Festo”  as its been referred to by one of my Pub Buddies.  So that’s where I’m headed.  A bunch of guys.  A cottage.  Chairs.  Beer.  Food.  That kind of thing.

Did up the meal that I’ll be slapping on our plates come Sunday night. 

Bob’s Burgers.

That reminds me, we need more Worcestershire Sauce.

D’oh!  I just gave away one of the “secret” ingredients!  Forget I said that.

 

I swear we’ll have more damned food than we can possibly consume.

The burgers are presently in the freezer.  I’ll buy buns at the one of the grocery stores in Grand Bend.  

The weather prognostication looks pretty good.   Maybe we’ve had our share or rain up to this point?  Hopefully.

I took myself out to a driving range yesterday and did some ball swackin’.   Not sure if it helped.  I managed to get about 30 of the 50 in the bucket to go where I wanted them to.   My arm was hurting a wee bit afterwards,  but seems fine this morning.  Didn’t take any “selfies”  Never occurred to me.

There’s the possibility of golfing on Sunday.   We’ll see.

I’m sure the fellow I’m riding with has done all the necessary research in terms of a local course.  It wouldn’t surprise me.

 

So there’s this,

and a set of clubs,  and I’m good to go.

Yes I know,  it’s my sail bag,  but it works.  I just now remembered to take out the Mustang PFD.

Well,  there’s beer.  I mean, c’mon.   And yes,  I suppose there’s a beer store in Grand Bend,  but there’s some sort of tick I have about getting some things out of the way. 

So I’ll try and take a photo or six.   Maybe I’ll share.

See you all on the flip side.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Nice to sleep with the windows open.

Until of course,  there’s some noise right below our bedroom window at six in the morning.

Oh but wait, it wasn’t just one racoon.   No no,   this was a Momma and FIVE kits.

I guess times aren’t that tough if you’re a racoon and can manage five little ones.  Somebody’s finding enough food to support a family of six.  Somewhere.

Travelling Companion was wondering where they were headed off to.  It wasn’t up the tree there,  which was what I first thought was going on,  since everyone was on the fence except for the one little straggler dude on the pile of lumber there.  I think once I came around and uncovered their cunning plan,  they decided to book it off the property.

Fine by me.

Other than that “big excitement”,  there hasn’t been too darned much else going on around here.  

We spent a little time in the garden this morning.  You know,  digging.  That kind of thing.   That’s all I ever find myself doing in the garden.  Digging.  It never seems to end.  Why do people like to garden?

It’s been a tad warm over the last couple days but then cooled off abruptly overnight.  

We were trying to hold out against putting on the air conditioning,  but we eventually gave in yesterday afternoon.  When the thermostat starts to climb up around 80°F,  with it being even hotter up in the sewing room?  It’s time.

It’s either that or go and hide in the basement. 

Not much going on down there.  Well,  there is that guitar that I could be practising.  We won’t talk about it.

 

I think that’s all there is in my pea brain.

 

And now,  I’m off to (once again) cut that lawn.  Oh joy!

 

Keep it between the ditches,  and thanks for stopping by.

 

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Only left with the wet spot.

Sometimes I have trouble simply “letting it go”.  

Lemme ‘splain.

I had to hook it up one last time to see just what the cr*p was up with this stupid thing.  If it were a sentient being,  I’d say “serious mental illness”,  since that would more or less sum it up.

It’ll take on water,  but then continue to do so until the water comes out the bottom,   then will go through the timer and pump it out,  all the while not pumping the water throughout the machine.  So basically,  and let me use a technical term here, screwed.

I’m sure you care.

So fine,  the next time they have one of those metal recycling/furniture/put out yer crap days,  I’ll trundle it out to the curb.  I mean,  I could borrow my nephew’s truck and take it up to the metal recycling place,  but that sounds like *work*.  

I’ll wait. 

Someone always drives by with a pick-up truck the night before the day of the pick up to, you know…pick it up.

 

Meanwhile,  I made some money today!  Yay.

That thing above there is a “field box”  that I made a number of years ago that has sat around for I don’t know how long.  It’s gone.  Put it on Kijiji for fifty bucks,  and it’s outta here.  And really,  I need to keep going with that “getting rid of stuff” program.   There’s boatloads more.  I may have to go up into the attic.

Oh,  and the “field box”,  in case you didn’t realise what it is,  is for tending to a remote controlled model airplane.  Something else that had to go.

I think that was the extent of the excitement.   The Dude who came to peruse the item and then ultimately buy it was a bit of a talker,  so it took a while to ease him on his way.  Didn’t want to be completely rude,  but we weren’t going to be buddies anytime soon.  But,  some folks like to tell you their life stories.

Earlier on I was feeling a little bit like “Tiger” from the Winnie the Pooh stories,  since I tend to be “the only one” when it comes to doing certain things.

Now,  this is something that I don’t quite understand.  We had this table for the three and a half years that we were in Austria,  and it stayed outdoors year round.  Then we moved home, and suddenly it had to be stored away for the winter.

Well that’s all fine and dandy,  but there’s no place to store it,  unless I take it apart.

So back out it goes.  We’ll see what the verdict is in the fall.  I may be taking it apart again.

 

The timing of the table assembly was fortuitous,  as a family friend came over with her little guy.

That’s Daughter Number Two making faces at little Logan.

And here he is trying on his new shades with his “Uncle” Rob.  He could tolerate them for a little while,  but only a little while.

Mom is trying to get him used to the shades.

Did you know kids can get sun damage to their eyes at that age?   Yup.

 

Anyhoodle,   we had a nice little visit.  He’s a pretty good little guy. Only got a little worked up when he got hungry. 

 

Oh,  the other day Contessa,  out there near the Left Coast mentioned how she didn’t realise we had a boat.  Well,  that’s because there never was a boat.   I only *crew* on a sailboat. 

Owning a boat is kind of like putting your kids in hockey.  It’s a real commitment.  Plus,  I’ve heard it said that,  *buying* the boat is just the first of many expenses.

Now,  that’s not to say that I wouldn’t mind say,  a nice 30 foot sloop,  but I’m afraid I’d be out there all by my lonesome, since Travelling Companion isn’t much of a “boat person”.  

I mean,  she’s been on a HouseBoat,  but somehow those two words “House” and “Boat”?  When you put them together like that?  Not really a boat,  and not really a house.  Some kind of oxymoron.  I was going to mention “naval intelligence”,  but maybe that only counts in my mind.

Oh,  and once upon a time we went out of Fajardo,  Puerto Rico on a fifty foot yawl,  and she didn’t mind that,  since the boat didn’t move when you went aboard.  Of course,  I think it probably displaced about 8 tonnes.  I wouldn’t even want to entertain the slip fees for a 50 foot boat.

 

I think that’s it for the all the excitement that comes to mind.

Had us some beautiful weather today,  which was a welcome change.

 

I’d say, “Hope you had a good Memorial Day” or something to that effect,  but somehow that just doesn’t feel right.

We were in Washington D.C. for Memorial day back in 2003,  and I found it to be a rather sobering occasion. 

But that’s a whole other story.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice,  and thanks for stopping by.

Finally on the water.

But it wasn’t much of a picture taking night,  to be honest.  We were mostly busy sailing the boat.

It was brisk.  And I’m not referring to Iced Tea either.

Taking a picture of ones own boat is mostly fraught with frustration.   I didn’t even bother.

We chose not to fly our spinnaker,  as it wouldn’t have propelled us faster than our theoretical hull speed anyway.  There’s a whole lesson on wave theory and displacement boats that I could share,  but it’s rather long winded and I don’t want to bore you.

Let’s just say that,  when a boat with a displacement hull that measures roughly 25 feet at the water line hits seven knots?  You’re outside the envelope.   The really tricky bit is to not round up or broach.  We did neither.  Which is not to say it’s never happened,  but these days with the amount of experience we all have (some of it bad) we have a pretty good idea how to go right to the edge, performance wise,  without having issues.

 

That’s about all I got.  After a busy night on the water and a glass of beer at the clubhouse,  Muggins here is about ready to settle into bed.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Is that short for “famished”?

I had Dr. Pham,  and that’s was my only question.  He did this 500 word verbal essay explaining all the odds,  the possible findings,  and just how many polyps a fifty year old has in relation to a 70 year old.  Seems one in 17 Fifty Year Olds have polyps,  whereas one in three at the age of seventy have polyps.  

so how old are you,  and how many to you think you have?  Hm?

Anyway,  about half way through his dissertation, I was starting to glaze over,  and I hadn’t by that point been given the sedation,  so I asked him if he had practised that in front of the mirror?  

I think I managed to break his train of thought,  and he did admit that he could recite that set of warnings/statistics frontwards and backwards. 
I just said,  “OK,  let’s just do this,  shall we?”

 

 

**************

 

I wrote a bunch more nonsense yesterday afternoon and decided just now to punt it out.  Turns out the sedation did have me “legally drunk” for a number of hours.   So the nurse wasn’t lying.  And yes,  Travelling Companion was there to drive me home.  No worries.

 

Anyhoodle,  life is pretty much back to normal now,  at least in the eating department.  I must say though,  I did lose four pounds through the whole ordeal.  So that was a kind of bonus.

And you know,  it wasn’t so much the procedure itself,  as much as all the pooping* and waiting.

Seriously.  

We get there in good time,  I fill out about four pages of forms.  Sign here.  Sign there.   Go in,  put on the “johnny shirt”  (you know, the one that’s really drafty in the back?)  and then I’m still waiting.   And hungry.

The whole damn thing took maybe fifteen minutes,  and I must have blanked out at some point,  since there were a couple “items” that they snipped out,  but I don’t remember that part at all.   Which was exactly the way I wanted it.

Maybe it was the idea of seeing the whole thing in “High Def” that I found to be a little too much information?

You may already know this,  but there’s a camera in the “scope” and you can watch the whole nasty business on a big screen.  Unless of course, as in my case I stipulated that,  “I want to be OUT”.   Apparently that’s an option.  I was quite happy to have made that choice.   I did see the “grand entrance”,  so to speak,  but I don’t recall much else after that.  

Awesome.

I did make sure to apologize in advance if I said anything “untoward” while under sedation.  Hopefully I didn’t.  They didn’t say.

 

 

I think that’s all I got for today.   Had breakfast with the “Breakfast Babes”,  and with the exception of some of these retired folks having difficulty juggling their busy schedules,  all is right in that part of the world.  

 

Keep those sticks on the ice,  and thanks for stopping by.

 

 

 

*not in the “normal” sense,  but if you’ve done this “thing”,  then you know what I mean.

Think “Niagara Falls”,  but coming your…..you know.

Everywhere I look, there’s food.

None of which is there for me to eat.

I’ve been kind of keeping a low profile for the last few days,  mostly because we’ve had company.  My sister Alice came here from B.C. for a visit,  and her significant other decided to come along as well.  The more the merrier I say.  Basically.

They camped out in the basement apartment for the most part.

 

Originally Alice was going to stay until the 25th I think it was,  but things weren’t working out with the visits to the Grand Daughters,   so she opted to change her flight and head home on Sunday.  Rick, (her friend) was only scheduled to stay until Friday anyway.   Of course,  Muggins here is always pressed into service to cart folks off to the airport,  but whatever.   Not like I have other pressing items on my punch list.

 

Anyhoodle,  I’m looking forward to having something to eat much later today,  since I’ve been doing my “prep”.

Does that liquid look somewhat vile?

That was my first glass from yesterday afternoon.  I’ve just now taken a second.  The first one wasn’t quite as bad as the second for some reason.  It’s organgy flavoured,  but it doesn’t really help.  It’s totally gag worthy.

Then of course,  there’s a “rumbling”,   and you can guess the rest.

If you’ve never done this “prep”,  then you have no freakin’ idea what I’m talking about.  And you’re turn will some day come,  trust me.

Of course,  if you have done this “prep”,  then I’m already preaching to the converted and you know exactly what I’m talking about. So that’s as far as we’ll go with that.

 

Um,  I think that’s all I got.  Pushing my luck here.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for stopping in.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what a real idiot looks like.

And no,  I’m not rehearsing for my ultimate demise and a quick trip out to the Nevada desert.

I’m up to something.

There were a couple things I wanted to sort out today, one of which was changing out the winter tires on Daughter Number Two’s car.  Didn’t take any pictures.  Never occurred to me. 

Hey, it happens.

Then,  since Daughter Number One had left us a spare car,  I thought I’d investigate as to just why the trunk would no longer open.

Turns out this is a common problem with this particular model of Jetta,  and is the result of a “cheap plastic part”,  according to a couple different websites.

“Hecho in Mexico” would be the other catch phrase.

I just have to stop right here and say,  Youtube can be awesome.  It’s where I got the notion as to how exactly I was going to get into the trunk in the first place.  You can search it out if you care to.  Just go to Youtube and put in something like,  “Jetta trunk won’t open”,  or some such thing.

Anyhoodle,  I only got onto this because the car was showing a “check engine” light,  but then realised that I needed some sort of adapter.  Fark!  My code reader worked fine in Daughter Number Two’s car,  but she wasn’t showing any codes.  But at least I know the reader does work,  as long as the receptacle will cooperate.

 

Oh well.

Don’t slip there Old Man.

 

 

There’s an “actuator” that pushes a little lever that opens the trunk. 

She’s busted. 

I’m just now waiting for some “Gorilla Glue”  to cure to see if maybe that will be enough.  Other than that,  there’s a website where a feller can order the part.   Of course,  the dealer will want to sell the whole contraption.  

That ain’t gonna happen.

Considering T.C. and I bought this car in November in ‘99,   and subsequently gave it to Daughter Number One in 2004,  and it has just north of 350,000 kilometers on the dial,  I’m not interested in spending any dough on it.  If Daughter Number Two feels the need to get it fixed,  we’ll talk.

 

In looking at some of the repairs,  I may reinforce the unit with some twine and then soak that in Gorilla Glue as well.  Can’t hurt.

 

Meanwhile,  it looks like I have some grass to cut.  Oy.

 

On a more positive note, I’ll leave you with a picture of the breaded chicken I made for dinner last night.

Twas yummy.

Keep those sticks on the ice,  and thanks for stopping by.

 

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You can’t just wing it, it seems.

Not that I thought that I’d be ‘winging it’ in any way shape or form,  but I’ll mention that later.

We now have a functioning dishwasher. 

And I don’t mean me.

There was an offer earlier this morning to take a ride off to London to pay a visit to my nephew,  but I wanted to get the machine out of the living room and into the kitchen,  to take my place.

Of course,  and as these things usually go, the previous machine had a different method of being hooked up,  so I had to make a couple changes.

First was the method of getting juice to the thing.

The Miele actually came with a plug,  so I had to wire in a receptacle.  This machine (a Bosch) came with a box.  But I decided I wanted to plug it in anyway.  Took me a bit of wandering around to find a cast off three prong plug to wire in,  but I found one.  Pays to have a few little goodies hanging around.

Then there was the issue of the water.  Different deal.

The previous machine hooked up to a hose bib.   Not this one.  Three eights compression fitting.

So I had to cough up an extra six bucks for a compression tee,  and put in that short little piece of three eights copper tubing.  Had it left over from something or other.  Maybe the fridge water supply?  Doesn’t matter.  Again,   just happened to have it in with the other plumbing “stuff”.

Turned the water back on.  It didn’t leak.  Always a good thing.

 

The rest was a matter of a bit of grunt work.

 

Daughter Number Two took a couple pics for me. 

Note the big blanket thingy that I’m lying on.  This is also something that’s handy to have hanging around.  Otherwise the hips and knees complain too much.

 

Then there’s the part where you can no longer just go with what you know.

There’s no point in ponying up the extra few shekels for a decent machine,  if you’re trying to wash dishes with hard water.  Just doesn’t work.  So you have to add salt and set the thing to dispense the proper amount.

The previous incarnation had a dial that was set.  (Installed it in September 1999,  so I guess it was “pre-digital”) This one has a bunch of digital controls that have to be keyed in. 

Again,  naturally I had to trim the kick board to get the door to open.  Meh,  I half ways expected that.

While I was waiting for the machine to arrive,  I took the opportunity to put some fresh finish on the kick board,  since it was started to get a little ratty. 

 

 

Of course,  that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to sprucing up the kitchen cupboards with some fresh finish,  but that’s for another decade day.

 

Anyway,  managed to dig up a few dishes to try it out.  Works like a charm.  It’s so quiet that the only real sign that it’s on is the time remaining on the read out on the front.

And then I needed a little rest. And a couple Advil.

 

Now back to our regularly scheduled drudgery.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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Just briefly coming up to surface.

 

And then I’ll submerge.

It’s been a tad busy I suppose.  And ironically, the busier I get,  the less “bloggier” I get.  Just one of my little quirks. 

Picked up my sister and her friend from the airport Friday night,  and so we’ve basically been hanging out with them for the last few days.

Previous to that,  I got it in my head to add another plug to Travelling Companion’s sewing room,  even though there were plenty of places to plug in machines or lamps and such,  I wanted one more ‘just there’.   I think that was Thursday,  which meant I actually did plumbing and electrical BOTH ON THE SAME DAY.   What a fool.

No really,  both little jobs went well. 

You may recall that we have this rather unique veranda on the upper part of the house,  and it so happens that there’s a plug on the outside wall,  so I figured I’d tap into that circuit.

I *think* the original intention with this outside wall was to put plaster over top of sheets of metal lathe.  There is still some lathe left over,  but I’ve taken away most of it.  I’ll be hanging drywall instead.  Long story,  but there were certain aspects of this house that never got quite finished?  Shall we say?

Anyhoodle,  when I took away the covering that was a sort of pressed board,  I discovered that the installers hadn’t put any insulation in the bottom part of the wall!  No wonder it’s so friggin’ tricky trying to keep the place warm in the winter. 

Anyway,  I’ll sort that out.

 

The objective was to put in a new plug on the inside,  which was easy peasy once I had my hole cut out and such. 

This whole operation was only because I got tired of crawling around on the floor in order to unplug the sewing machine whenever T.C. would take it away for a lesson. 

 

My next “little job” will be to install our new dishwasher that I picked up on Friday.  It’s sitting out in the garage,  and like a fool I didn’t get the boys to bring it in when we were all gathered here last night for Mother’s Day.  Idiot.

I’ll figure it out.

Gotta get the old one out first of course.  I’m kind of procrastinating on the whole thing,  but I have to get my sh*t together.

Now I’ll just mention briefly what I did on Mother’s Day.

 

Um,  ya.

Got asked last week if I wanted to go to a game,  and didn’t quite realise that it was first of all,  on Mother’s Day,  and that my sister would be here.  BUT,  it’s hard to say no to such great seats.  Everyone was very understanding.  Not only that,  but my sister has become a bit of a Jay’s fan,  so she was totally onboard with me going to a game.

These were tickets that were given to one of my brothers-in-law who,  due to the nature of his profession,  gets a little perk thrown his way from time to time. 

Unfortunately the Jays lost big time,  but a feller can’t have everything.  It was an enjoyable experience.

 

I just made sure that I had my culinary sh*t together first thing in the morning,  so that I could hit the ground running when I got home,  so to speak.

 

I was almost to the point of thinking I’d need a bigger BBQ,  but I managed to squeeze everything in.  I make my own burgers,  but the sausages are veal and spinach and garlic sausages from Denningers.   I mean, where else?

When I started writing this,  I was the only one up at this point,  but I’m starting to hear some activity,  so I’d best put on some more coffee.

 

Sure hope everyone enjoyed their Mother’s Day.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

One of those miserable jobs.

I was going to use the “s” word,  but thought better of it.  Even though it had to do with plumbing.

And you know,  each and every time I’m about half way through one of these situations, I make a mental note of just exactly why plumbers charge what they do.  And it doesn’t have to have anything to do with human excrement to be a “shit” job either.

It’s that whole “lying on your back while trying to prop up your head” program that makes it a “shit” job.  At least for me anyway.  I’m utterly amazed at anyone who can lie under a car (for example) and work away without their neck muscles being on fire after a very short period of time.  I never could do it.

Anyway,  we have company coming again,  and so this time around I figured I’d change out the vanity taps in the downstairs quarters.  Up until now I had been leaving the cold supply shut off, and then turning it on once it was needed.  And just letting it drip. That tap has been leaking for oh I don’t know,  a few years now?   And since Daughter Number Two and her significant other haven’t been living down there since they bought their place what?  three years ago?  there hasn’t been a pressing need.  

Until I decided that today was the day.

Out with the old.

 

And in with the slightly newer.  

 

This Moen single lever gizmo looks all fine and dandy,  but it’s the one that I took out of the upstairs “powder room” (such a goofy name) to be replaced with a newer model.   Last year some time.

You may remember. 

OK, maybe you don’t.

 

It’s been damaged by chemicals that were a wee bit too strong for the finish.  I take full responsibility for this.  I got carried away.  What can I say?    Well,  “Don’t use harsh chemicals on your delicate little fixtures”,  is exactly what I would say.  Gah!

 

Naturally,  it was a miserable job,  since everything under there was corroded,  making it a challenge to get things undone.  I mean,  normally you just remove the entire sink and work on it with the sink upside down,  but the sink stays.   For now.

And again naturally,  one of the supply lines started to leak.   Had to do with the washer thingy being somewhat crushed.  Not worth it to go to Home Despot and try and find a little rubber washer thingy,  BUT I had a couple spare supply lines out in my box of tricks.

So that solved that dilemma.   You can see there where there’s more corrosion.  My fault.  Totally.  Had a container of the aforementioned “harsh chemical”  sitting in there.   Stupid stupid stupid.

The entire arrangement is well over twenty years old and will be undergoing some sort of reno at some point,  but not just yet.

 

Speaking of which,  we’ve declared a moratorium on ordering new stuff,  ‘cause Muggins here is getting behind when it comes to getting it all installed. 

 

Can you figure out what the next little project will be?

I’ve only been meaning to do this for like,  ever.

So, sometime before the fall I’ll get around to sorting this out.  I mean,  it’s not like we desperately need a new insert,  but anything would be better than what we have in there right about now.

And that would be this,

 

….rather sad example of a wood burning something or other.    A real POS,  unfortunately.

I *guess* it used to work.  And I’ve tried to make it function.  Trust me.  Bought a new gasket for the door, cleaned it as best I could, but it smokes and stinks.  I think there was just too much crap that got burned in there.  That ultimately never works.  I do think that that was why there was a chimney fire way back in the day when the house belonged to the previous owner. (my late father-in-law). Too much junk went into the fire. 

Soooo,  when the fire department arrived and poured cold water onto the hot chimney flue,  that was the end of the flue.  Hence the stove/insert/whatever that thing is.   Wish me luck.

 

Not sure what the rest of the day will bring.  It’s now sunny out,  and T.C. and I may go back to digging out the garlic chives,  or she may wish to do a final inspection on the downstairs.  Oh,  and there’s some talk of “Slovenian Homework”.   There’s that class on Saturday morning after all.

Right.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

When an apple fritter calls your name.

An no,  I have no pictures of apple fritters.   And it wasn’t my idea.  Honestly.

There was a casual mention of some *thing* called an apple fritter by Travelling Companion earlier today,  and being the weaker member of the team,  I couldn’t put it out of my head.  To make matters worse,  there was no line-up at the Tim Hortons drive thru. 

I mean,  that’s not even fair.

By the way,  that’s not the way I would spell “Drive Through”,  but I guess all those extra letters would be too expensive.

Anyway,  I guess I forgot just how sweet those things are?  Holy Moly!   I used to eat those things??

I realise a person’s taste (taste buds?)  does tend to change over the years,  but I sure couldn’t have eaten more than one.  I mean,  many (many!) years ago I could knock back Cinzano Vermouth without batting an eye,  but not anymore.  Ever had that sh*t? 

Oh it’s sweet, now let me tell ya.

It’s curious what you get used to.  Or unused to.   Whatever you do,  don’t put any sugar in my coffee.  My head will explode.

 

I was on my way to Home Despot,  and those sneaky buggers put a Tim Hortons right in the way.  The noive.

 

But this isn’t about the apple fritters.  It was just something that got stuck in my head.  

As soon as I got home,  I realised that there was some gardening type of sillyness to do,  so I dutifully left the small bag of fritters on the kitchen counter to joint the ranks.   And that’s when they were really calling me.

I mean,  I was digging in the garden yesterday as well,  but it didn’t involved getting down on bended knee,  so to speak.

 

We’re once again battling the dreaded garlic chives that are destined to take over every patch of dirt.  The only thing we’re really interesting in saving are the roses,  but I’d just as soon not dig up any daffodils,  even though there were a few chives that had mingled in with them.  The bastards. 

Once or twice there’s bound to be a few casualties.

 

It’s that green shit down at the end.  Even Round Up is reportedly ineffective on this stuff.  You just have to dig it up,  separate the dirt from the roots and toss ‘em in the bins to be picked up by the municipality.   It’s not even a good idea to put them in the compost here on the property,  since they’ll just keep growing.  

Too bad they have no four legged enemies.

 

Like this little guy, who thinks that by sitting really,  really still,  I can’t see him?   And that’s not taken with a telephoto either.

 

I happened to mention to T.C. over dinner that I had a slight headache,  and lo and behold,  T.C. said she had a similar headache yesterday after inhaling the fumes from these stupid garlic chives. 

Not sure what’s going on there, but I’d really rather not break out the respirator to dig around in the garden.  Seriously?

We’ll get them all though. Not the bunnies.  The chives.  It’ll just take a few days. 

Forget the bunnies,  I’d never win that battle.

 

Speaking of dinner,  we hauled some of those frozen pirogues out of the freezer,  along with some “chicken patties”. 

Pirogues in fried onions.  Oh ya baby!

 

I’m not sure if I mentioned the Chicken Patties. Making these things is rather involved and requires a good half a day.  That’s a rough guess on my part,  since I managed to be elsewhere during that little adventure.  I’d share the recipe,  but I think it died on the old laptop.  T.C. has a hard copy somewhere. 

Meh,  it’s complicated.  You don’t want to know.

 

OK,  if I remember,  I’ll try and dig it up and post it somehow.

This whole website/blogging thing still leaves me staring at the screen like a deer in the headlights most of the time,  but that’s just the way she goes.   I’m not worried about it.  Really.

I suppose I could have a “recipe widget”.   It is possible.  I’ll need to form a committee.  And maybe take some yoga.

 

That’s about all I have in my pea brain at the moment.  We keep hoping it’ll warm up a bit,  but I suspect it’ll be hot and humid before we can turn around twice. 

Best to be careful what we wish for.

 

Thanks for stopping in.

We’re out of toilet paper!

OK wait.  Not really.  These are however,  words that I never want to hear.

Ever.

 

And let me just interject here to say I was going to hit “Publish” later on last night,  and I failed miserably.  Started watching season four of “Game of Thrones” and that was it for the evening.

Now on with the show…..

 

I’ve been mocked for having an abundant supply,  shall we say?   “You should see how much toilet paper we have stored downstairs!”    Like it’s some kind of prized possession.  Like a comic book collection or such.  And by the way,  May the fourth be with you.  (Too late with that now of course).

I’m sure any house guests we have couldn't’ care less.

 

But where was I?

Right.  Shit tickets.  You never want to run out.  Which is precisely why I went for a walk this morning yesterday morning down to the local grocery store with my twenty something gallon big plastic bag that I have saved for just the purpose from “Toys Be Us”  or some such place.  

Naturally the young cashier asks,  “Do you need a bag?”,  at which point I haul this honkin’ big bag out of my pocket and unfurl it like the main sail on a cat boat.  “I think I’m OK”,  was my reply.  

She said not a word.

 

Oh,  for the unknowing,  this is a “cat boat”.

 

See?  It’s got a pretty big sail.  There’s only one, and it’s the mainsail.

Now I’ll throw you some sailboat trivia.  This example happens to be a Nonsuch,  which was a design by George Hinterhoeller.   It’s a very short article,  worth the read.

I guess more precisely it’s “Canadian Sailing Trivia”,  but whatever. 

 

One of the other “rules to live by”,  is the notion that I choose not to ever pay full price for toilet paper.   That and paper towels.  I have an abundant supply of those too.  They go on sale.  I empty the shelves.  OK no,  I don’t really “empty the shelves”,  that would something akin to getting carried away.  I just take along a huge bag.    See above.

 

Today (it’s Monday now)  we’re doing some more sorting.   This time with the bed sheets.  Oh my goodness do we have an abundance.

AND,  since one of my sisters-in-law bought a cottage last year,  I have an idea where some of them might be going.  Eventually.

I also took a few minutes to add some time to my cell phone.  It’s a pay as you go.

I lent it to T.C. last Thursday since she had to take a trip up to Guelph to visit a sister.  

Look closely at the balance.   See a slight problem?

Even when I try and mind my Ps and Qs I still manage to get into trouble.   In my defence,  the last few several minutes were depleted when there was an accidental “pocket dial” to Daughter Number Two.  

And it wasn’t me!

Just sayin’.

 

Looks like we’ll finally have a nice day around here.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for stopping in.