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.