Well, that was twice.

And by that I mean,  "first and last time". 

I mentioned on Sunday that there was this "pick-up order" that had been ordered at one of the local grocery stores.   And originally,  the delivery date was two weeks off,  and as a result,  this order had been started some two weeks ago.  And that's kind of OK,  as you can add to it right up until the day before the scheduled delivery.   Oh and,  these folks had been doing this long before the pandemic,  by the way.

T.C.  wanted to do this,  as Daughter Number One had put in an order that she picked up a week ago,  and her Mom had added things to that order.

So like I said,  it was our turn.

Eventually,  late in the afternoon,  T.C. got a note,  and I got the "OK,  we have to go pick up our order!"  command from T.C., so off we went. 

The deal is,  when you arrive at the store,  you call them,  tell them in which parking spot you are located (they have a designated area) and they bring your order out and place it in your trunk.
As I was sitting there,  I kind of wondered,  "what the heck do you do if you don't have a phone?"  but I guess everyone and their dog has a mobile phone so,  dumb question.

Naturally it was raining.   And,  thinking that someone would be out somewhat expeditiously,  I naively popped the trunk. 
And waited.
Of course,  a gust of wind came up and opened the trunk all the way up and,  thankfully we don't keep much at all in the trunk,  because whatever was in there was getting wet. 


Now,  first of all,  let me tell you a little story.   See,  when I was all of 16,  I worked in a Lumber Yard.  It was OK in the summertime,  but I also chose to work Saturdays throughout the winter.
Man on man,  you don't know cold until you've had to pry a few snow covered two by fours out of the pile on a cold winters day.   But my point is,  in no time at all,  not only did I know all the different products,  but was operating the towmotor,  cutting bridging on the bandsaw (it was huge!)  and doing deliveries.   And not just the "trim truck",  for some reason that to this day remains a mystery,  I was also sent out with the big truck to deliver framing.
 
Oh and,  this was all "pre-gps"!  There were some cryptic instructions,  let me tell ya! And,  once you were out for delivery,  you were really on your own.  No cell phones either. 

And then,  skip forward to my last year of High School,  when I worked in a small grocery store within walking distance of school.  Within a very short period of time,  I certainly knew all the products.  Now,  maybe because I spend a few early years on a farm,  I have a bit of an advantage when it came to produce?   But I doubt it.



And where the hell am I going with this?


Question: How do you end up getting radishes in your order,  when you wanted beets?    Did someone say,  "just gimme some of dem red things"? 

It's like some sort of "Grocery roulette." 

That situation might have been even somewhat more tolerable if either of us could stomach radishes.  I've tried them.  Don't like 'em.

Now,  the bonus of the "grocery roulette" situation?  Well,  we did get an extra container of bread crumbs,  as well as a third ball of pizza dough.  No extra charge.  So that kind of makes up for the time we had to waste having to go back to the store and wait for some kid to come out with a bunch of beets.

And yes,  they got their radishes back. 

The produce?  Well,  even *I* can pick out better produce.  And I'm always given stern warnings about how to pick out produce.  It would seem you're at the mercy of whatever blind employee is saddled with the task of picking out your cauliflower (with just a few too many brown spots)  along with the sad,  sad looking lettuce.
It's encouraging to know that they're willing to hire the handicapped.  But having the gift of sight is what I would consider a priority when it comes to picking out groceries? 
Just an observation. 
And even that requires sight.


I just said,  "Well,  if it's painfully average produce that you want,  I can get that at the "Food Basics"  down the street."


T.C. muttered something. 

We may just have to live without lettuce.


In other "news",   I did bake another banana bread. 

May as well.   Certainly more satisfying than any kind of shopping. 

And that,  sadly,  is the extent of the excitement in our lame little existence.


Thanks for stopping by.

Keep your stick on the ice,  and wash your hands.

OK so, big deal sez you.

I've done this before,  a number of times.

But the thing is,  when I was making banana bread in Vienna,  I didn't have a mixer.  I know!   How lame is that?
I mean,  I looked at mixers in Europe,  and man oh man,  were they ever expensive.  I found out too late that I could have ordered one on this Continent that was wired for 220 volts and 50 hz, and had it shipped with our stuff.  Didn't realise we'd be missing something like that so much.  Oh well.
Of course,  then I would have had to figure out what the heck to do with the thing when we moved back home.  I did manage to sell our washing machine,  but any of the other 220 appliances,  we gave to charity.

Here at the Ponderosa,  we have a "stand mixer",  which is simply a wonderful invention.  Just....let the thing run.

I'm not sure why I hadn't been doing this more often.  I suspect laziness might play a huge part?

I really,  really didn't want to talk politics today,  even though there are some really,  really stupid things I could go on about.  You know,  Orange Head,  Kelly Ann Conway,  the Governor of Florida etc.   Oh and, Bishop Gerald Glenn.  You probably heard of him.  And I mean,  he probably has a mother,  and maybe friends who will grieve his passing,  but really? 
Just don't be saying stupid shit.  Because you just never know.   Well,  I'm sure he's in "a better place",  or at least he thought he was going to one.   That's all that matters.

There's been a couple pastors that have...wait for it...passed on.   See what I did there?

That's about all I got today.   We did do a little road trip this morning,  first for a "porch pick-up"  of some sewing supplies for T.C. and then to drop off a birthday present and some masks at one of T.C.'s sisters.   Keeping a safe distance of course.  My only slight concern?   I'd have to make sure that my bladder wouldn't be nagging me at any point in the journey,  as any of the go to stop off places would be off limits.  All Tim Horton's and McDonald's only have their drive throughs open,  so there's no going in for what I like to refer to as a "McShit".   And of course,  there was no using the facilities at the sewing place,  nor at the sister's-in-law. 

Coulda got ugly.


As a side note,  any time we were in a foreign location when we lived in Europe,  I would always look for the "Golden Arches",  as I knew there were toilets available.  You might have to cough up fifty Euro cents for the privilege,  but at least they were clean.

And with that thought,  I'll bid you a pleasant evening.

Keep that stick on the ice.

Thanks for stopping by.  And wash your hands!

As the banana ripens.

So by that,  you might guess that I just might make some banana bread.  But that won't happen until tomorrow. 
I did manage to "step up",  so to speak,  and put dinner on the table,  but after T.C. and I polished off a bottle of wine,  I dare say that baking at this point might be ill advised.

Meanwhile,  and not wanting to somehow be left out of the whole "baking at home due to the virus"  situation,  Daughter Number One has dipped her toes into the bread making milieu,  with her first offering of sour dough.   The word is that she's bringing over some "starter" later this evening for her Mom. 
I try to stay out of it. 

We do however,  have some "spare" flour sitting on the counter ready for her to pick up.  I dare say that D.N.O. is one of those who rarely uses flour in her life,  and therefor didn't really have copious amount in the house for her baking adventures.

Just a hunch.

Both daughters are pretty good cooks,  but I do have to say that,  something went terribly wrong with that generation,  as they never really cottoned on to the notion of baking for ones own needs.  I suspect it wasn't due to some lack of interest,  but more like the lack of time needed to do that sort of thing.  If you're not getting home from work until some time in the evening,  you are NOT going to then have the motivation to whip up a loaf of ....whatever.

And really,  this was true of T.C. and I,  back when we were their age,  so maybe I should just shut up about that.

Anyway,  that was tonight's offering.  Shepard's pie.  Although,  actual Shepard's pie is made with Lamb,  so I suppose it's some sort of hybrid,  or bastardisation.  Whatever,  it's one of the few things I can make with relative confidence,  so there.

We wolfed it down.


What I had actually thought of earlier today,  and that I was going to comment on was just how the US is now NUMBER ONE!   Yay! 

Um,  not in education,  or quality of life,  or (God forbid) health care,  but the US is now Number One in the world when it comes to the number of cases of this new Corona Virus. 

As the French would say,  "Bien Fait".    It doesn't mean what you think it means*.

Awesome to be Number One at something.   Maybe just not THAT thing.

Of course,  as in the case of our own number,  I think the actual number of cases is somewhat higher.  First of all,  not everyone can get tested,  even here in "socialist" Canada.  But moreover,  even with Orange Head's huge relief bill,  even those with health coverage are somewhat fearful of going to get tested,  as they can get a "surprise bill"  from the hospital.   You know what I'm talking about,  don't you.
Plus,  there simply aren't enough tests.  Don't get me started.

See,  for Canadians,  the idea that you have to have a "Health Plan"  is as foreign to us as the need to have a hitching post for our horses.  There are horses in this country,  to that I'll admit.  However,  they're not needed for every day transportation,  so there's no hitching post needed here at the Ponderosa.
Or a carriage house.  And news flash,  we don't live in Igloos.  Just wanted to point that out.

Anyway,  we're all "covered".   No money need exchange hands whenever you go to the doc.  Now,  there are certain tests that,  if you decide you just HAVE to have one,  you just might have to pay.  The only example I can think of is the PSA test.  If the doc orders it,  it's covered.  However,  I was willing to pay the fifty bucks a couple months back to have that particular test done.  It's free once I'm sixty-five,  but maybe I want to know now whether there's an issue with my prostate. 

I suspect the biggest expense we have when/if going to the hospital,  is paying for the damned parking!   It's like,  seventeen bucks a day!   But the visit is free!
Just make sure you walk there.  That's my only beef.





I'll let you chew on that.

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep your stick on the ice.

And wash your hands!


*even though "Bien Fait"  looks like it would mean, "well done",  it's a Frenchman's sarcastic way of saying "Well done,  idiot".   Like that.    Usually with a condescending tone.

Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger! Cheeseburger!

Sorry,  but if you didn't spend your Saturday late nights watching the late John Belushi and his wacky interpretation of a short order cook who only knew how to cook one thing,  then I'm truly sad for you.

I tried to find a clip of Belushi, Akroyd and Bill Murray doing that skit,  but it so happens (and I certainly didn't know this) that the skit they did on SNL was based on an actual restaurant in Chicago,  where they've been carrying on with this sort of spiel for many years now.

Anyway,  a few days ago I had frozen up some burgers for future consideration,  and thought maybe I'd cook up a couple on the grill.

Kind of a lousy picture actually. 
I had picked up some lean ground beef at one of the local "Deli" type places here in town  (Denninger's if you must know)  made up a few burgers,  froze them individually,  and then shrink wrapped them in this 'food saver'  shrink wrap thingy that Daughter Number Two gave us.

It's kind of awesome really,  but that's a whole other story.

The curious thing was,  they had different trays of burgers that they had made up,  with the simplest version called "gourmet burgers".   So,  since I'm essentially lazy,  and was considering  just taking a short cut and buying a few,  I asked one of the clerks just what was in these "gourmet burgers"?
Well,  it was only ground beef made into the shape of a patty! 

Right. 

My burgers a just a wee bit more involved,  with chopped Onion,  Worcestershire Sauce,  Bread Crumbs,  an egg,  salt and pepper,  along with another secret ingredient. 
Ok fine.  Not that much of a secret really.  It's Steak Spice.   I've never had anyone complain about my burgers being bland.
Once in a while I serve them with fried onions,  but this time I decided on some "American Cheese".
By that I mean,  those plastic wrapped cheese slices that are really only good for burgers or making grilled cheese sandwiches.  I'm pretty sure it's cheese.

Cooking them from a frozen state isn't too much of a problem.  Just have to make sure they're cooked is all.
I didn't manage to take a picture of the ensuing cheeseburgers,  as by then I was getting kind of hungry and scarfed them down in about two minutes flat.

Along with that,  my sister-in-law had called to ask if I could please come and pick up some beans,  as the garden is just going crazy.   The garden that she has at the back of her place (huge pie shaped lot)  is sort of a joint effort for a few of us,  with me being in charge of fencing and putting up whatever structure required for the pole beans and cucumbers. 
Oh,  and I installed a sprinkler/soaker type of arrangement,  so that she only has to hook up the hose to the one end and turn it on.
The garden is maybe 20 by 60?  Haven't ever really measured it.


So I spent some time blanching and freezing a basket of beans.    Divvied them up into the proper amounts for two or four servings.

The cucumber she gave me was perfect.

I like it cut up with just a tiniest bit of salt.  Yummy.


Mind you,  no need for the elaborate sprinkler/soaker system lately,  as we've had our share of torrential downpours over the last few days.   Didn't sail Tuesday night,  as there was the threat of lightening.  Never a good idea to be on the water with one of them pointy things (called a mast,  hello)  when there's the chance of an electrical storm. 
We went up to the clubhouse for dinner and beer.

There's been a nice break in the weather as a result,  and last night it was actually cool enough that I could keep the bedroom window closed,  and avoid being woke up by the annoying dog next door. 

I swear,  I'm going to have a tee-shirt made up with "How do you like my chainsaw?"  in big letters on the front,  and then right under it in smaller print it'll say,  "I don't have a barking dog to annoy you,  so this'll have to do".

Too much to read I realise,  and I'm sure I'd be the only one to see it anyway.  Maybe a big flag on a huge flag pole?


Well,  that's lunch.   Back to painting.

Oh joy.

Keep those sticks on the ice.

Thanks for stopping by.

I caught him!

For years now,  and I'm talking decades here,  we've been getting someone else's mail.   Not every day,  mind you.   Just once in a while. 
It all comes down to one number.  Our address contains a "3",   the recipients of our prodigal mail (it does come home eventually) are down the street and around the corner.
So,  a week ago yesterday,  there was a package left on our front doorstep from some place called "Well.ca".   Didn't look like anything I had ordered. 

And as a matter of fact,  I have nothing on order.

Of course it wasn't ours,  so I hopped on the bike and made the delivery.

Oh,  there's a bit of a 'back story'  to this.   See,  once upon a time,  the folks at that other address were Mr. and Mrs. Helm (no relation to "Matt") 

I recall Daughter Number Two telling me that,  when she and her hubby were living here during the time that we lived in Europe,  Mr. Helm would come by from time to time to deliver our mail.  They'd do an exchange,  as we likely had some of his as well.   Usually "Chatelaine"  magazine that Mrs. Helm had on order.  Don't judge.

Sadly,  I remember her telling me one time that,  poor Mr. Helm was getting really old and weary,  and was having difficulty even getting out of his car, let alone making it up our front steps.   Then,  a couple years ago by now I think it was,   Mr. Helm passed away,  and Mrs. Helm was the only one whose mail we were getting.
Then,  a couple months ago,  I couldn't help but notice a "for sale" sign on the front lawn,  and now there are new owners.

I don't think they realise that it was me who delivered their package last week?

We'll introduce ourselves at some point I'm sure.

Anyway,  this morning there was a knock on the front door,  at which point I raced to the front door thinking perhaps my sister-in-law,  who lives up the street and around the corner,  might have got caught in the rain or perhaps needed to use the facilities.

Nope. 

It was "Delivery Dude",  who is under contract with Canada Post,  and he had left a package from Amazon.   Of course,  didn't have my glasses on,  and he had darted off before I could wave him back anyway.

Sure enough.  Not for this address.   But I thought,  "Dammit,  I'm gonna race off and see if I can catch him".  Figuring that,  even if I couldn't track him down,  at least he went in the direction of the proper recipients,  and I'd drop the package off anyway.

And like I just said,  it was raining like you wouldn't believe!

And I saw him!  He was just finishing up another package delivery on one of the side streets,  and I think as soon as he saw me,  because maybe he recognised the vehicle,  he came right to my window.  We had a little chat.  He was apologetic.  He was also getting soaked.  I tried to be brief.  I didn't quite go to the point of trying to explain the difference between '3' and '4',  but he got the idea.

I suspect that,  as long as he's the guy delivering the boxes around here,  I won't have to make any more deliveries.

Now,  the actually postal workers?   That's a different story. 

I've managed to chase down the odd one in the past,  but it's tricky.   They're too surreptitious.  And by the time I've sifted through the dregs of junk mail to see if I actually got anything,  they're long gone.

*****

In other "news",  I thought I'd try one of those copper BBQ mats again,  only this time to cook a couple eggs.

Meh.  Still not the greatest.   I know that when it comes to using a frying pan,  I like to cover the eggs,  which allows them to start to skin over on top before getting crusty on the bottom.

I'm not overly keen on that crusty bit.

I even tried another couple eggs later in the evening,  figured maybe I'd cover them with the lid to a pot.  The only one that I had that would fit over the eggs was this glass thing,  and it started to make these cracking noises, which was freaking me out, so I took it off.  Breaking one of the lids to our pots would be "no bueno".

So,  those eggs in that photo above look really perfect BUT,  they stuck to the surface (not supposed to)  and were way too crusty on the bottom when I was trying to flip them.   Just a mess,  really.  Edible,  but sad looking.


Maybe it would work better on a BBQ,  as opposed to a grill?  I give up.

I'll stick to using the cast iron bit that goes over the grill for anything like bacon or eggs that I want to cook outside.

Meanwhile,  I've finished yet another wall,  and have two (?) more of that colour to go.   Of course, with it being so overcast and rainy,  I may have to bring in one of my gazillion candle power work lamps,  which I'm not keen on using due to the amount of heat given off,  but whatever.

Gotta get at it.

Um,  it looks like two different shades,  but that's just due to the flash.


Thanks for stopping by.

I tell myself, "It's only a game".

Couldn't bear to watch the Canada/US hockey game last night,  but when I checked in on line at one point and saw that they were tied up,  I had a sense of dread that there would be a shoot out.

I've never been a big fan of the "shoot out".  I think I'd sooner see something happen like the sudden death situation we see in the NFL if the game is tied at the end. You know,  play an extra period.  See what happens.

Whatever.

I mean, last time,  Canada won in a shoot out,  and I didn't hear anyone complaining,  myself included.

Both Travelling Companion and I should have probably sucked it up and stayed up to watch,  since she told me this morning that she had been dreaming about it all night,  and woke up tired.  I pretty much had the same experience.

And now,  on to more *important* matters.


(insert, "tongue in cheek" font here, by the way)



I may or may not have mentioned at some point that I quite regularly meet up with a bunch of retired old farts on Wednesday mornings for breakfast.  The food is average,  the washrooms are somewhat suspect,  but our waitress is dynamite and the conversation is usually quite lively.   So I go.

Plus,  it gets my sorry ass out of the house on a regular basis.

So,  what catches my eye as I head out the driveway?

See,  there are times when I'm no longer interested in eating that one last heel from a baguette or loaf of bread,  so I open the back door and pitch it out for the squirrels.

They do tend to come up with some creative means of "storage".

It was raining,  so maybe this was to soften it up a bit?



Happened to have the camera.  What can I say?


This sort of thing (seeing where the little numbskulls store their bread)  passes for "entertainment" around here.

Oh,  and I just looked out.  It's still there.  He must have stuck it down with some spit or something.

It's stopped raining by the way,   but there have been some issues along the Grand River,  most notably a young Mom who didn't see the road closed barricade due to the fog,  ended up in the water,  managed to get herself and her toddler out of her vehicle,  only in that instance to have the child swept away by the rushing current!

The story is here.

Sorry for the downer.

And I think that's all I got.

Thanks for stopping by. 

Keep your powder dry.

So...it's hot.

Which is why we've been mostly staying indoors.  Whimpy, I know.  But I've done my time working in the sweltering heat,  and we didn't put in that air conditioning to simply go out in the blazing heat and sweat like crazy.

There was something in the news about the Teachers in Toronto getting a wee bit vocal about the temperature in some of their schools, like...30 Celsius,  which is just shy of 90.F.  As was the case with my previous employer, less than half of their schools are air conditioned. 
Used to be, that wasn't too much of a problem.  Septembers would typically be cool (ish) or at least cooler at night. 


Thankfully I also put a left over window unit in the garage er, shop.  Stays pretty cool in there for a time,  but I usually run it when I'm not there,  as I find the air blowing on me a little annoying.

Anyhoodle,  T.C. and I thought maybe we'd have toasted tomato and bacon sandwiches for our dinner,  which meant having to cook up the bacon indoors. 
Normally,  that would be the plan,  but adding heat to a house that's being air conditioned didn't seem too terribly clever.

Then,  it occurred to me that I have this skillet type contraption that I had bought many years ago to use with the Weber.  It's been hanging in the garage (this time it's "garage",  not "shop",  by the way)  for all these years,  so I cleaned it up and put it to use.

Used to carry it with us in the Motor home for just such an occasion.

Not sure how common these things are,  but it worked just beautifully.  And,  while I certainly love the smell of bacon being fried up,  I certainly didn't miss smelling up the kitchen with no chance of airing it out by opening the windows.

We figure we'll do some tomato sauce on Thursday,  as the weather is predicted to cool off somewhat by then.

We'll probably have to start shoving these guys in the fridge in the meantime.

Oh and,  that too will be the day that we pick our grapes.  My latest contraption seems to be working, as there has been no evidence of visits by the little bandits.


That's it for now.

Thanks for stopping by.

Now I remember.

I remember why I haven't broke out the sprayer in quite some time.  And I'm not talking about lawn and garden either.  I mean,  spraying paint.
It's not the spraying that's the bother,  it's all the bloody prep involved.   Gah!
I don't have anything remotely like a "spray booth" or anything,  so that's one consideration.  So,  there needs to be a certain flow of air through the garage,  preferably no humidity.  What else?  I guess that's basically it.
Then of course,  I have to put up some sort of barriers to keep the paint from getting everywhere.

All because I had this notion that putting primer in all those nooks and crannies would be a bother.

The result makes it all worth it,  but only barely.   Then there's the gun to clean.

Anyhoodle,  that looks better.  

I know, I could have left it "wood coloured" ,  and it would have been perfectly functional,  but a little bit of paint never hurts.

If it wasn't such a complete pain in the ass,  I'd paint the entire garage.  I suspect it would something akin to a nightmare however.  

It is what it is.

The temperatures around here have been up and down like a toilet seat lately it seems.  Saturday was hot and humid,  then for the next three days it's been almost cold.  Relatively speaking of course.

Tonight was a sailing night,  and I made sure to go with the long trousers, socks and runners,  since I damned near froze my feet off last week. It just takes getting a couple splashes of ice cold water off that lake,  and soon enough I couldn't feel my feet at all.

Unfortunately, tonight it was dead as a fart out there,  and after a "delay",   they packed it in.  Most everyone then races to the clubhouse for a cold one.   We had adequate liquids on board,  so we chose to get everything stowed away,  set the hook and broke out the coolers.  (Um, beer coolers,  not those smarmy drinky-poo things)

I did take a picture of the Shepherd's Pie that I made last night,  which T.C. and I finished off this evening,  but it tasted better than it looked.  Possibly I could have helped it out with some sort of modification in a photo editing program,  but you can just use your imagination instead.  
It looked gastly.  Really.

Don't know why,  but I had a craving for Shepherd's Pie.   Plus,  there's always that hidden bonus of being able to have at least one left over meal out of the deal.

Who me, lazy?

In other "excitement",  there was a phone call today at around two o'clock from my (let me think about this) "nephew"?   He's the son-in-law of my sister-in-law.  Actually,  probably no relation.
Anyway,  turns out it was a plumbing question.  Which was basically a cry for help.  Seems that water had been discovered,  and after ripping out some closet or other in the basement,  it turns out that one of the copper pipes had started to leak.   There were no signs of a burst pipe as a result of a freeze,  but it was a very fine stream that was coming out about a half an inch from a joint.  I never thought it was possible,  but apparently this is a "thing".  Copper pipes can in fact, start to leak with little or no provocation.

Oh,  of course,  I know all this, since it was mentioned that he'd shut off the water for the whole house,  at which point I simply said,  "I'll be there within a half hour."    I packed up the car with whatever plumbing stuff I figured I'd need,  and headed off to sort it out.
Turns out, I couldn't get the water out of the one side, so we ended up putting in a couple "shark" fittings with a short length of PEX tubing.

Some kind soul has written a little Wiki blurb here, if you're not sure what that is.

I've used it here and there,  but I guess I'm old fashioned,  since I still have mostly all copper fittings here at the Ponderosa.

In this situation (sorry,  no pictures)  it was pretty awesome,  since there's no need to use a torch, or trying to get the copper above its "kindling" temperature so the solder will melt.  Plus,  this spot was really close to bit of the frame that easily could have been set alight,  so I was using my little heat deflectors,  with a spray bottle handy.
The pex isn't the cheapest method, mind you,  but when you need to turn the bloody water back on and nothing else works, totally worth it.

This is probably why we have a standing invitation to their cottage.
Pays to be handy.

'Cause,  if you're wife doesn't find you handsome"?   You know that one,  I'm sure.

Speaking of which:  Keeps yer stick on the ice.

Thanks for stopping by.

And...we're back to this.

So much nicer to have a BBQ right outside the back door. 
Don’t get me wrong,  we had a wonderful time at the Condo in Maui that we rented,  but the situation was such that,  the BBQs were down by the pool.

And I like to BBQ.

They were awesome BBQs and all that,  but getting all your “stuff” down there,  all the while having to get through one of the locked gates,  (and you had to use the key to get out too…),  was a bit of a challenge.  “Have I got everything?”  was my mantra.  Oh,  and there was no glass or breakable dishware permitted either since well,  you are in the pool area. 

So convenient.

But,  here we are again,  back in the Great White North,  where it’s actually starting to get quite green.  Mind you,  we have had SNOW IN APRIL around here,  so even though spring is around the corner,   let’s not get too cocky.

Yesterday was one of those awesome days when the temps were up into shirt sleeve weather (well, for the average Canadian at least,  Floridians need not apply), but it was just a tease,  since today it’s quite cold again.  Above freezing,  but nothing that would encourage you to run out and bask in the sun.  Or roll around on the lawn.

Actually,  I’m sure it’s been a bloody long time since I’ve “rolled around on the lawn”.  Not really my “deal” for several decades at least.


To go along with the steaks, (and yes,  I realise they are small,  but they are “medallions”),  I had a hankering for some taters fried in onion. 

Maybe it takes me back to when my dear ole Ma would make “hash”,  but that’s chopped up more than this particular version.

And you’ll no doubt think this a bit odd,  but I recall that she used to use an old tin can (washed of course,  hello)  to chop up the potatoes in her cast iron frying pan.  The things you remember….
It looks somewhat bland in that photo,  but T.C. did make a salad to go along.  I don’t seem to recall such a thing as a “salad” when we had Mom’s hash. 

Salad? Did anyone eat salad back in the 50s 60s or 70s?
You just ate your vegetables.


Anyhoodle,  I’m mostly just checking here to say, “Hey,  I ain’t dead yet”,  although the blog is on the verge of being on life support. 
I’ll try and breathe some life into it from time to time. 

I promise.


Figured I should put in at least one pic from Maui.  This is my sister-in-law and I out on Maui Nui. 

I forgot to show T.C. how to zoom.

Keep those sticks on the ice.


Thanks for moving your eyes back and forth.

The big eat.

Just a couple words before I lay my widdle head down.

We had the big gathering tonight,  and it was a swell time.

The food was awesome, if I must say so myself,  but I wasn’t the only one, and it was very nice to be able to sit and chat with all our friends without being drowned out by say,  several dozen patrons of some pub or other.

Not ALL of the food was prepared in our very own kitchen,  as we picked up the meat from a place in Oakville called Boffo’s,  where they stayed open just long enough for me to get there right at closing time to pick up enough meat to feed a small army.

Here’s me hugging the chef/owner Noel.  Hopefully his wife didn’t mind.

I mean,  I had just hugged Daughter Number Two who works there,  and I didn’t want him to feel left out.  I didn’t hug the rest of the staff, nor his wife.  Didn’t think that would be appropriate.

 

Anyhoodle,  there were 14 of us,  and we managed to all fit in the dining room without having to resort to any sort of “kid’s table”.

 

Also kind of hard to get everyone in the same shot.  No matter.

So that’s it.  Everyone had a fabulous time,  and there were no punch ups.  (are you kidding?)

 

Now it’s off to bed.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Better when it’s not raining.

But that doesn’t mean I wanted hail.  And we had some.  More than once. 

The bugger of it is,  the stupid grass is growing,  and it’s really too cold to be doing very much at all in terms of gardening.  Or cutting grass.  Or just about anything else outside.   I was a bit annoyed this morning when I had to go and retrieve my winter coat from the closet upstairs.  It was 2°C out! 

For those of you who haven’t quite figured out Celsius yet, (you know,  that system that’s based on the freezing and boiling point of water?) that’s two degrees above freezing. 

Anyway,  let’s not get into any debates about which scale to use,  except that it is noteworthy that, although Fahrenheit was a German,  the Germans don’t use his system.  Hm.

 

I’m just now finishing up the leftover pizza from the one I made for dinner last night.  It’s as good the second time around as it was the first.

Yes,  I made pizza.  Not rocket science.  And,  although the dough comes out risen and somewhat fluffy,  it’s not that easy to work,  and I had to fill in the holes like a patchwork quilt. Need to find a better recipe.

Speaking of which, (like that segue?  huh?) one of our Breakfast Babe members was the recipient of some left over scraps this morning from a quilt that was made for his Grand-daughter. 

Well,  the scraps were in the form of a pillow.  Or maybe there were two?  I wasn’t really paying attention,  but I did make sure to take a photo.

It was mostly an opportunity to use the new G16. 

Needless to say,  I’m happy with that camera.  There’s a good chance I’ll say that more than once too.

 

We noticed why the house across the way was getting all spiffed up with the fresh topsoil and new plantings. 

It’s now for sale.

 

There ya go.

Not sure if they’re looking to flip the place (they’ve been there since some time when we were in Vienna) or whether it’s getting to be too small for them.  There have been larger families raised in some of the houses on that street,  some of which have had the same occupants since the fifties.  The idea of moving every few years just fills me with dread.  Unless of course,  it’s part of a “company” move,  in which case Muggins here only needs to supervise. 

I can supervise.

But there will be no more of that.  We’re here for the duration.

The shocking thing is,  most any place that size around here will go for well over a half million.  Can you imagine?  I think we’d get considerably more than that for this place,  but it’s a moot point.

 

Speaking of moving, (should we turn this into a drinking game, where you take a shot every time there’s a segue?) I made a third trip today to the Greyhound Bus Depot here in town to pick up boxes that had been shipped across the country by my sister.  I have to call her up and ask if she’s done?  Or will there be more?  I have lots room,  so it’s no big deal.  But I thought we were done with the LAST trip I made.

Not sure where these will all end up,  but she’ll likely relocate back to Ottawa.  Her roots go way back in the Ottawa area,  and as a matter of fact, she still has a hairdresser there,  “Murray” whom she goes to see whenever she has the chance.  Is that a “thing” with the ladies?

Now,  you’d think the “Bus Depot” (or whatever you call it) would be at some place like the bus station. 

That would make sense.

Well no.  It’s simply a job that is contracted out to the folks who run the Kwik Kopy.

Another revenue stream for them I’m guessing, ‘cause I don’t see how you make any money running a Kwik Kopy franchise.  But what do I know?  Maybe they’re rolling in it.

Thankfully there’s Google Maps,  because I never would have found this place. 

I find that I invariably consult Google Maps before heading out the door if I’m going somewhere new.  I need to know where I’m headed,  rather than trying to figure it out on the fly.  Too much traffic.  Too many distractions.  I don’t need to be trying to find an address AND avoiding all the clowns out there. 

Oh,  and there be clowns.  But that’s a whole rant right there. Let’s not go there.

I’ve almost turned into That Old Guy who writes down a plate number,  comes home and calls the cops.  It has crossed my mind. But I’ve resisted. 

And I don’t even have to drive too many places.  Gawd help me if I had to do a daily commute.  My head would explode!

 

I think that’s the extent of my ramblings.

 

Stick.  Ice.  You know.

 

Thanks for looking.

Cooking for one.

I prefer not to do it. 

Left to my own devices I’d probably eat sandwiches.  And maybe a pizza from time to time.  Bit of a sad reality check.

T.C. has left home.

No wait.   Let me rephrase that, she’s gone up to Guelph to hang with a sister.  That,  and deliver the slacks she made for another sister, along with the chair I “fixed”.  OK,  maybe it really is fixed.  We’ll see.  I wasn’t about to take any extraordinary measures when it came to an old chair.  Me and chairs don’t really get along in the repair department. At least that’s been my experience.

Anyhoodle,  she thought she’d go for a sleep-over.  I somehow suspect they won’t be up all night giggling over copies of Teen magazine,  or whatever it is teenagers do at sleep-overs.  I suppose these days with social media and smart phones,  it’s a whole different thing.  I imagine I’ll never really know.

So for posterity, and in case T.C. is checking,  yes I did cook some vegetables.  Or “vegetable”.

There’s photo evidence.

Is rice a vegetable?  At least the corn is.

 

It actually doesn’t look all that appetizing but trust me,  it was good.  I can east Swedish Meatballs at least two nights in a row.  No problem.

After that? Meh. Gets old.

 

Right along with that,  I thought I’d have a beer.  Not that that is any big deal,  but I discovered that I had actually bought beer that I don’t particularly like. 

I know!

Tasted suspiciously like a Belgian beer I tried once upon a time,  in Belgium, that also didn’t really work for me. Too…something.  Busy?  Strong?  Not sure.

Now don’t misunderstand, that doesn’t mean I didn’t drink the beer.  Gawd, that would be just outrageous.  It would have to be really,  really bad for me to actually pour it down the drain.  Maybe some sort of home made stuff,  or Coors Light or something.  Pardon me if you’re a Coors Light drinker, but that hardly qualifies as beer.  And, Coors Light would never make it to this house by any means of conveyance that I have any control over.  You’re welcome to bring your own, it’s not like I’d stop a person at the door and tell them to take their sorry beer and their sorry asses and hit the road. 

But I’d never buy it. Just saying.

 

I like to mix it up in the beer department,  and will often get an assortment.  I’ll be giving that one a pass the next time around.  And you know, that “Hefe” part should have been a clue.  That Belgian beer had a similar name.  Need to pay better attention.  I just did a search.  Didn’t find it. It’s a mystery. 

It was a “white beer” which means it’s made from wheat, and not hops.  I mostly like wheat beer. Go figure.

 

I’m beginning to ramble.  I’ll wander out to the shop a bit later and see if my stain has finally dried.  No worries about waking anyone up.  Try not to lock myself out.  That would be bad.

 

Here’s hoping it warms up some time before July.  It’s not looking great at the moment.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for passing through.

We have a wiener!

Well,  that doesn’t really make any sense,  unless you have an understanding of some of the “family speak” that we practise around here from time to time.  Of course,  when I say “we”,  I mostly mean “me”.  

It’s been a bit of a hunt,  but I’ve managed to find the stain to match the dining room set.

 

I’ve probably driven past this place on Speers Road in Oakville a number of times.  Never noticed. 

Of course,  Speers is some sort of street from Hell,  as it’s two lanes each way,  with a speed limit of 60 k.p.h. (about 38 m.p.h.) which is rarely observed,  with no turning lane.   Swell.

Anyway,  this was only after visiting two other places,  the first of which actually sent me here.   Seems the young lady who sent me here had worked there.  As she put it,  and “hadn’t left on good terms.”   Curiously,  when I mentioned this to the folks at Speers Paint,  they didn’t seem to offer than impression.  Maybe that was her take on things.  But let’s not digress into the human psyche.  This Blog ain’t about dat.

 

It looks like “Ola Masters”,  but it’s really “Old”. 

They had a huge selection.   “Vintage Burgundy”.  Who knew?  I think though when we ordered the set,  they used some sort of Mahogany term.  Whatever.

Of course,  I haven’t quite finalised all of the minor little design features,  and I’m still in “speaks” with T.C. on that subject.  We could probably resolve the tension between Russia and the Ukraine in the meanwhile. We’ll see how the negotiations proceed.

 

Then it was off in the complete opposite direction,  with T.C.’s new fancy machine along for the ride,  as there were some questions the answers to which didn’t seem to be jumping out at her.  It’s definitely more complicated than any woodworking tool I’ve ever used,  that’s for sure.  Although, not nearly as dangerous and potentially digit severing as something like a table saw.

The lady there was very knowledgeable.  I was paying attention,  but by now of course I’ve mostly forgot.  Had something to do with just one little setting being off by one notch.  Something like that.   But she made the thing work just fine.  She did admit that it can be a bit “bouncy”,  but the remedy is to simply set it back from the edge of the table a bit.

It has that little “hole” for the cut off fabric to fall into.  So it needs to be out near the edge.  We’ll have to come up with something.

No segue here,  just random stuff.

 

I’m wondering if the mail man is going to take the hint that I left for him.  I’m just getting fed up with delivering someone else’s mail is all.  I suppose I could apply for a job, but I don’t think Canada Post is hiring.

I’ll be watching.

 

The last time this happened,  it was an oriental mail carrier,  and I figured maybe there was an issue with the number Four. It must be confusing trying to tell someone what floor you live on,  considering there’s no number four,  and no number thirteen.  

I think it has more to do with not paying attention,  truth be told.   This has been going on for over 20 years, with every possible mail carrier type.  Just need to learn how to READ.

Gah!

 

I think that’s about it for today.  There was a light dusting of snow to clear and I’m already back inside from that.  The wind was pretty brutal at times.  It’s minus “something ridiculous” out,  with a wind-chill of “you gotta be kidding”.

 

In keeping with the “pictures of food” theme,  I BBQed steaks last night. (yes, outdoors.)  We had that and a salad. 

I don’t mix up the salad ingredients ahead of time.  That way you take what you like and refrigerate the rest.  That’s why it looks a bit odd.

 

 

 

Keep yer stick on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

 

.

Merry Christmas!

No really.  And no, I don’t smoke that stuff anymore. 

It’s January 7th,  which is Christmas in some parts.   Don’t get me started on how December 25 actually started out as a pagan celebration.  Something called Saturnalia,  although that particular article has a definite slant to it,  you may notice.

(psst, you may have to actually do some *reading*, OMG!)

 

So ya,  Merry Christmas.  As good a day as any.  If anything,  in the Latin Countries, yesterday was celebrated as Three Kings Day, on which presents were given.  Makes more sense,  as there were gifts given by the three Wise Guys.  Right?  But let’s not go down that road.

Other than that,  it’s just another Wednesday here at the Ponderosa.  I suppose it’s time to dismantle the Christmas tree,  but hauling the storage boxes out of the attic right around now is definitely going to involve suiting up.   It be cold up there.

Which is exactly what it should be.  If it’s comfortably warm in the attic during these frigid times,  then we have a problem.

I don’t even want to talk about how cold it is.

 

Got a call to go and pick up an area rug for Daughter Number Two today.  It was supposed to be a Christmas present.   Hey,  came in time for the orthodox one,  if that counts for anything.  There we go, let’s go with that.  Merry Christmas!

 

We didn’t unfurl it,  since it’s not staying here,  and we’d only have to roll it up again.  I managed to shove it into the car with very little difficulty.

See,  it’s sort of under the tree and everything.

 

Yesterday Travelling Companion announced that she wanted “February Chicken” for dinner tonight.   It’s really breaded chicken,  but we got in the habit of calling in February Chicken,  since the order of preparation is Flour, Egg,  and then Bread crumbs. 

Sometimes Bob needs retrieval cues.  Bob has CRS.  You likely know about that one.

 

Involves browning in oil (corn oil is the preferred lubricant) and then baking in the oven at around 350°F for maybe forty minutes or so. 

I say “around” 350, since our oven is kinda wonky.  And I don’t really keep too close an eye on the time.

Until it’s cooked.  That’s all.

 

This btw, is what it looks like before going into the oven.

There was a suggestion to bake some potato wedges,  but I went with slices instead.  Such a rebel.

I just realised I didn’t take an “after” picture.  We ate the evidence.  Anyway,  some salt and pepper,  maybe some green stuff like Oregano, drizzled with some light olive oil,  shake them up in some sort of sealable container and bake along with the chicken. Not on the same tray mind you.  Forty minutes. 

Maybe.  Until they’re cooked.  Like that.

Probably why we didn’t eat until eight o’clock.   I haven’t a clue how long things should take.

Well,  actually I sorta do,  I just didn’t get started in a timely fashion.

Didn’t play the Saxomophone at all today,  but maybe I’ll go down later and honk away until I break into a sweat.

Damned exciting stuff,  I know.

 

Hope you’re warm,  wherever you are.  It’s warm *here*.  Sitting at the computer I mean. 

 

Keep those sticks on the ice*.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

*Except maybe if you were the coach of the Leafs,  then you might be thinking more in terms of spiffing up your resume.

 

.

Cookies for breakfast.

I actually considered it.  For at least a few seconds.

But considering I woke up at some time after 2:30 this morning with just a wee bit of heartburn, most likely from eating too many cookies last night,  I decided to maybe have something else for breakfast.

A couple nights ago I had been rummaging through the cupboards for something,  anything to snack on.  There’s usually at least one cookie to be found.  I’m not big on chips or popcorn.  Can’t eat just one chip so I don’t even start,  and the kernels from the popcorn tend to get stuck in my teeth, so that doesn’t work either.

Of course, *thinks* I did drink maybe a couple glasses of red wine.  Right.

Red wine and chocolate chip cookies = heartburn.

At least in my case.

 

Anyway,  as I was preparing our salmon for dinner last night,  Travelling Companion thought she’d bake up a batch of cookies.  Alrighty then!

 

Here’s the salmon,  by the way.

 

Hey,  if I bother/remember to take a picture,  it’s probably going to appear here.

The deal with the salmon is,  grated garlic and basil mixed in with some olive oil,  which gets basted on top of the salmon,  then approximately twenty minutes an inch on the BBQ.  It also tends to cook in the olive oil.  Pretty damned good.   Of course,  the salmon has to be fresh, at least for us anyway.  No “fishy” smells.  And it was.  Bought it earlier that day at Boffo's in Oakville.  Who now finally,  and partly thanks to our daughter,  have a website.  Gotta have an on line presence!  Couldn’t convince the previous owners of that,  but that’s a whole other story.

 

Not much happening today here at the Ponderosa.  The original plan was to head off to Kingston for the day for a “confirmation”,  but we started to think about the possibilities of T.C. picking up something from some snotty nosed person somewhere,  maybe in church,  and we just figured that wasn’t a risk we were willing to take.  Heading in for surgery while fighting a head cold?  Probably not advisable.  We’ll stay home.

There’s one last appointment with the Doc who did the “Stress Test” last week coming up on Tuesday,  and then Wednesday is knee fixin’ day.   We have to be at the hospital all bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to jump on the gurney at 6:30.  Um,  not me.  Just T.C.

There’s no word on any hint of a cancellation,  so I’m guessing this one last appointment is some sort of information thing.  I think we’ve already pretty much signed everything we have to.  I even had to sign up as the “Caregiver”.   Ya, I’m in.
What ever.

 

Oh right.  I did do one little thing up in the “Veranda” the other day.  See, it’s all done on the outside,  but I have a ways to go when it comes to getting it all spiffed up on the inside.  But that’s OK,  I can just plug away at it.

There will be some milling of trim over the next little while.  And it’s not exactly anything I can go to the local lumber supply place and cart home either.

This was kind of a two day deal.  Mill the piece to fit,  put on a couple coats of finish,  stick it in place with some really good construction adhesive,  and there we go.

 

Needs to be under pressure until the adhesive cures.

 

I guess that’s about it.  Not sure what’s coming up for tomorrow.  If I want to start on the next big thing,  I have to sit down and draw up some plans.  Gah.

Not my favourite thing,  that’s for sure.

 

Supposed to warm up a bit this week,  but we’re not on the flood watch like our neighbours (or maybe “neighbors”?)  just across the border. 

The snow is already gone around here.  I’m not the least bit heartbroken.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

Up to me old tricks.

 

Freezing overripe bananas has its limits. 

There was a suggestion from Daughter Number Two to make some sort of banana schmoodie.  (read: “smoothie”, inside joke)  I can do the banana bread from rote,  so that’s easier.

Didn’t take long for Travelling Companion to have a piece when she got home,  since she thought she wouldn’t need a lunch.  Turns out she stayed at The Company that Cannot be Named for the entire day.

I think I mentioned that “The Wolf”  would be making an appearance?

Now get this,  she’s now an independent contractor,  yet they had an office ready for her,  with her name on the door!  Geez,  it’s a wonder she got her swelled head in the door when she came home.

Actually,  that’s far from any kind of an issue, but one does get the impression that they were really happy to have her back.

Gotta pay for all these renos,  don’t ya know.

Anyway,  once upon a time, up to and including our stay in Europe,  her gig was all about finance.  She’s a CPA after all. (Formerly CMA, Certified Management Accountant).

Then when we came back home,  they put her in charge of IT.   That’s “Information Technology”,  not “It”,  as in “Cousin It”.  

They were having issues going onto Oracle and well,  she knew the ins and outs of the system better than the IT people.  

Now,  she’s working with Marketing.  I haven’t quite figured that one out,  and at this point, I’m not sure I want to know.

 

So that meant Muggins here was back to being Chief Cook and Bottle Washer.  Well actually, that bottle washing part is sorted out by the dishwasher.  There’s a limit to that as well.  Right along with the freezing of the bananas.

That also meant that a supper menu was in order.

 

Not too damned fancy,  but we scarfed it down with no complaints.

 

Beans from the garden, sautéed onions and spuds.  Oh,  and grilled chicken breast.  Slathered in BBQ sauce and dusted with Denninger's Steak Spice. 

T.C. won’t be going back into work until next week,  which is a good thing,  as we have plans to get ourselves to a cottage for a couple days.

This is a different one. 

This is why I’m quite content to not own a cottage, you’re never stuck in one place. 

We stayed at this place last Thanksgiving, and Daughter Number One was so taken with it,  that she rented it for this week.  OK then!   We invited ourselves up.

Some sort of P.P.  That’s Parental Privileges.  I just made that up.

Don’t worry though,  it’s not like we’re total mooches or anything,  since there was a call earlier today to make sure the plans were set,  and when I asked if there was anything lacking,  the subject of Slovenian Beer came up.

Seems they’re OUT. 

The Horror!

 

So I did the “Dad” thing and went to the LCBO to fetch some.  

The interesting thing about the LCBO is,  you can go to that site,  and if you know what to look for,  you can see just how many they have of a particular item in every store.  

Kinda neat.  And oh so handy.

 

The silly thing is,  even though this beer is called Laško, they have it listed as Zlatorog. I suppose that makes sense,  since Laško is the brewer,  but if you’re only carrying the one beer?  Just call it Laško. 

 

 

 

Anyhoodle,  I’m READY.  Beer is cooling in the fridge.  The car is full of fuel.  That’s it,  isn’t it?

Well, maybe I’ll take some clean undies.  Don’t want to over pack.

 

See you on the flip side.

 

Thanks for stopping by.