It’s been a bit blustery.

Not talking politics here either.  We’ve had a bit of a “blow”.   Not enough to cause any damage though,  although I think there was a bit of flooding here and there.  There were dire predictions.  I guess it mostly went around us.

Anyway, we’re muddling along here.

Had another couple visits to this place.

Oh, that’s Oakville Trafalgar Hospital.  Not that you could tell from the picture.

Nothing serious.  Had a “Bone density scan” on Friday,  and then a CT scan on Tuesday.  Was supposed to be on Monday,  but the machine was on the fritz.  I think they tried to call me,  but the Hospital comes up as “Private Caller”,  and those calls are blocked on our phone.  I’ve since unblocked it, (I think) but if I start getting too many phone solicitors using the “Private Caller” ruse,  I’ll just block it again.  Didn’t realise it until I checked,  but we have 28 different numbers that are blocked.  I just find it tends to discourage the annoying solicitors or worse,  the annoying robo calls that try to get through to ascertain whether or not anyone is home. 

Bastards.

Anyway,  had a young technician of Friday who was trying to find a vein.  OK so, I have this very naive/biased/old man type of idea that anyone named “Tiffany”,  shouldn’t be handling a needle.  After I was starting to turn into a pin cushion,  she gave up and asked “Daisy” if she’d do it.  Daisy was successful. 

And no,  I’m not kidding.  Her name was Daisy.  Who names their kid Daisy??

And I mean,  I could SEE the f**king vein,  but she was trying to be a hero.  Or something.  I don’t know.

I was nice.  Really.  I know that seems out of character.  But why would I be mean to someone who is about to poke me with a needle full of stuff that is being stored in a lead container?

So,  the whole “scanning” thing isn’t terribly serious, or at least that’s my take on it.  I’ve had this “pain” in my side off and on for a few years now,  and nobody seems to be able to pin it down.  Probably nothing.  Comes and goes.  The “serious” stuff is when I have to do that whole “prep” thing,  and then go in for the anal probe.  No aliens involved.  You know what I mean. 

I’m hoping to get maybe a two year reprieve after the last visit.  I mean,  c’mon!  

Shouldn’t complain. 

In another era,  I’d simply get cancer and croak.  So, I’ll shut up now.

Oh,  and the reason for the “finding a vein” thing?  Well,  I’ll be radioactive for a few months methinks.

No immediate plans of crossing the border into the States, thankfully.  Otherwise the alarm bells would be going off.  Or something.  I’ve heard stories.

You can read a bit about it here. 

For the return trip on Tuesday,  I requested that they put a lead collar around my neck.  I think I’d like to keep my thyroid functioning for a little while longer if possible.   Too many x-rays can’t be a good thing.

 

Couldn’t help but notice that our neighbour has decided to get their driveway paved.  Talk about parking your big assed trucks where nobody can actually get through!  Mind you,  they weren’t there long.

Wonder how long it’ll take for the paving crew to come back and finish it.  I’ve seen some driveways sit all freakin’ summer after they’ve done the prep.  “C Valley Paving”.  I wouldn’t hire them on a bet.

 

Um, lemme see.  Anything else? 

This is when you know you DON’T have too many clamps. 

I’m making up some trim for a window “stool” in one of the upstairs bedrooms.

A little tip,  the “sill” is on the outside,  the “stool” is on the inside.  Just sayin’.

It’s only been missing the trim for, oh I don’t know ten, fifteen years??  Just one of those little *things* that got left behind.  Decided a few days ago to get it sorted.

That’s it.  I’m empty.

Hope all is well,  where ever you find yourself.

 

Keep your stick on the ice,  and thanks for stopping by.

Pie for dinner.

And I’m not kidding.  There was a somewhat substantial lunch,  so I’d best cut down.

Daughter Number One had called earlier today to say she was finished with her “site check” up in Bolton,  and would T.C. and I like to go to lunch?

The fact that she was willing to come by and fetch us was no doubt a good thing,  since a crew showed up this morning and proceeded to rip up the street right in front of our driveway.

I guess since the car was in the garage,  they maybe figured nobody was home?

Anyhoodle,  lunch was just fine, especially as T.C. and I don’t get to see DNO all that often since well,  life can get busy.

Needless to say, there are always enough things to keep me busy as well.  Not that I need “busy work” or anything,  but it’s probably just as well that I don’t lounge around too much. I’m sure both brain and body would quickly go to mush.

 

Right around this time of year, there’s always those little chores that need to be done before the onset of winter.

Pardon the language.

The winter rims for Daughter Number Two’s aging car were looking kind of sad,  and Muggins here wasn’t about to buy her new ones.  So a can of spray paint would have to do.

See,  looks just fine.

It’s been so long since I’ve had anything to say here,  that there’s a certain amount of catching up to do.  Like,  Thanksgiving weekend,  for example.

 

For the last few years now,  we’ve been going up to the Kawarthas (Ontario Cottage country for those of you south of the 49th) for Thanksgiving weekend.  As there’s not quite enough room at the cottage where all the festivities take place,  we have managed to find a place to rent nearby every time.

This time we were just down the road,  which was well within walking distance, except for that minor wrinkle of having to lug food, beer, wine etc.   So the “within walking distance” thing was kind of moot.

 

It was a nice enough place,  with plenty of room, on Sturgeon Lake.  And “pet free”. 

Sorry pet owners.  I make enough mess on my own.

We had a chuckle at what was passed off as a pool table though.

What exactly is the point here?

 

That’s a card table its sitting on.  We didn’t play….

The place we rented last year had a crokinole board, so even though it was farther away (a ten minute drive,  as opposed to a ten minute walk),  we might go back there again next year.  Plus,  there was a ping-pong table.

 

Anyway,  I was quietly reminded why I’ve never had a huge desire to own a cottage.

 

Daughter Number One testing the water.

I stayed on shore.

 

Apparently,  there are these “things” that you have to take out of the water in the fall. 

OK then. 

I did offer to go in the water.  Had my trunks and such.  There were water shoes available. 

I was giving a pass. 

Mind you,  everything was still slimy and covered in zebra muscles.  If I get suckered  offer to do this again next year,  I’ll be sure and bring gloves. 

I kept thinking,  “There must be a better way to do this”.  Something involving some sort of machine?  Hoist?

Certainly nothing involving brute strength. 

Right, me?  Brute strength?  I hardly think so.

 

Anyway,  it’s Election Day here in The Great White North.  The Federal variety this time.  So it’ll be late tonight before we know who will form the next government. 

I won’t get into it.  It’s been 78 days of seeing WAY too much of political talking heads on TV.  That’s all I’ll say.  I can’t even begin to comprehend how they start to campaign and lobby and whatever a full TWO YEARS before the Presidential election in the States.   Not sure I could handle it.

At that rate,  they’ll start campaigning right after the dust settles for the next election in four years.  I mean,  shouldn’t there be a limit? 

 

Can you tell I don’t have a lot of patience for certain things?   Like old codgers who take WAY TOO LONG to cast their ballot at your polling station?   Let me copy and paste an excerpt from an email I sent off to one of my Pub Buddies this morning.

(saves me writing it over again)

 

T.C. (I redacted her proper name) and I already walked over to St. Pat's (the church) to linger around our polling station, where it seems there was the slowest man on the face of the planet.  (voting).   Couldn't figure out exactly WHY it was taking so bloody long at our station,  but then it became abundantly clear.   Old fart.  Talking.  Asking stupid questions.  (Like,  "are there pancakes?")

I would NOT have the patience to deal with some of these stupid old buggers.   I mean seriously,  you cannot be that old,  and it be your "first time". 

Ever see that skit of Tim Conway,  as he shuffles across the floor?  

Ya,  like that.  Not exaggerating.

 

You can watch it here.

 

At first I thought it was the fault of the two old biddies at the table,  which was partly true,  since it seemed that the one didn't have English as her first language,  which of course meant looking up addresses written with the Latin Alphabet was a challenge,  I'm sure.  (I mean,  I'd have issues trying to decipher someone's address written in Farsi, wouldn’t you?)

And the other one (a bit older, partly blind and barely able to move)  didn't have the gumption to tell the old geezer to snap it up a bit. 

Fucking near lost my shit.

Sorry,  I didn’t “redact” that last part.  That’s the way I talk sometimes.  Mostly for effect, I’m sure you’ll agree.

 

But I kept it together.  Especially as T.C. was standing right there. 

 

Suffice to say, I could not do that job. 

 

Right,  I’m getting a bit wordy.  And I’ve finished my pie.  Maybe a little too much pie.  Made a bit too much whipped cream.  Not sure what to do.  *Snort*!

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.

I minor skirmish.

This is a picture from last year.  Seems we once again have a bumper crop of grapes, and I guess the word got around.  So last night there was another bandit type visitor flummoxing around on the grape vine. 

Not for long!

As one of my sisters-in-law aptly put it a number of years ago,  “They sound like old men in over coats”,  so it’s not like I have super hearing or anything.

So I took to the corn broom and hose.    I think I did get in one good whack over his little noggin’,  but even that wasn’t enough to settle the issue.  I had to break out the hose. 

That was too much,  so he “decamped”. 

Of course, I knew he’d be back,  and I was just riled up enough to make sure I dug through my little “treasures” to find some sheet metal.  Hey,  I have lights in the shed after all.

There was no way I was going to guard a paltry few grapes for the rest of the night.

And yes,  I said a paltry few grapes,  but the little buggers make such a mess.  And it’s the principle of the thing.  My grapes.

Not much metal was needed,  and I found a handy dandy little piece I had removed from one corner of the house that had been used as a squirrel deterrent. 

Worth hanging onto.

There’s a certain evil delight in hearing the sound of little claws on metal,  all the while knowing that the grapes are once again safe.  Bwahaha!

Go away ye little bugger! 

Is that mean?  

You can judge me,  I don’t care.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

Sticks.  Ice.  All that.

It was a blustery day.

And pretty much still is. 

 

I got a chuckle when I saw the sign Daughter Number Two had drawn for work today.

(she works at a deli)

 

Being out that close to the water was one of those “hang onto your hat” moments.   

As it happened,  I took a little drive over to Bronte Harbour,  mostly just to get turned around,  and happened to notice something not quite right at the boat.

 

Not sure how the darned sail cover managed to work its way just about clean off,  but thankfully it had wrapped itself around one of the shrouds.  I saw no point in trying to wrestle the thing back on in the strong wind,  (it’s mostly there to protect against the sun,  and we had damned little of that) so I simply removed it the rest of the way and pitched it down the companionway (the hatch).

 

The thread holding the front zipper is somewhat pooched,  so it’ll need a wee repair job over the winter methinks.

I cinched up a couple of the sail ties, tightened the main sheet a little so the boom wouldn’t slap around,  and left.

There were some other folks there sorting out lines and bumpers,  and as I was heading home I caught a glimpse of the owner on his way to the slip.  I left him a message as to where his sail cover was.

 

There was supposed to be a “pursuit race” today, for which we had decided earlier in the week that we wouldn’t have enough crew,  so we weren’t planning on going out anyway.   

There were absolutely no vessels on the water.  It was a foregone conclusion that the race was cancelled.

There was only one other time that I recall,  at the tail end of Hurricane Juan,  when we were told to come off the water by the Coast Guard.  I also seem to recall that one or two fishermen were *ahem* fished out of the water that weekend.  It boggles the mind sometimes just how small the boats are that those guys go out in,  and also the types of conditions. 

You wouldn’t see me out there.

Today’s conditions were even worse than anything I’ve ever seen up to this point.   And we’ve been out in some pretty nasty sh*t. 

It’s called “experience”, most of which is bad.

 

Still liking that insert.  Just playing with slate tile installation ideas.   And yes,  there’s a Carbon Monoxide detector just to the left of that photo.

 

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep your stick on the ice.

Time to put away the flip-flops.

Or in my case,  sandals. 

I don’t think I’ve ever worn flip-flops,  and it has nothing to do with some sort of sense of propriety, but rather due to the fact that I can’t handle having that little thong-like bit between my toes.

 

We haven’t quite put the heat on just yet,  but we’re getting mighty close.  Having the fireplace insert has been a joy,  although it hasn’t quite finished “off gassing” all of the newness.  A bit stinky.

 

After a certain amount of study,  as well as a bit of guidance (even though it was somewhat vague) from a local gas insert retailer,  I was able to sort out the placement of the “fire logs” in such a way that it made sense,  and there were no parts left over. 

Always best when there’s no bits left over.

That little bag there is something called “rock wool”,  which I then stuck in here and there to simulate “embers”.  It does a pretty good job too.

Next on the agenda will be figured out the placement of the slate tiles we ordered a few weeks ago,  and which I picked up the other day.

 

Of course,  slate is notorious for not being very consistent,  so there will be a certain amount of head scratching I’m sure.  “Normal” tiles would have been much easier,  but since when have we ever done anything quite “normal” here at the Ponderosa?

 

That’s about it I suppose.  Just a snippet.

 

Bundle up.

 

Thanks for stopping by.