Cold little buggers.

So, I've noticed that the Robins have come back but,  as it has been known to happen every so often,  we have snow in April.
And it doesn't matter how many times we say over and over again, “Well yes,  we have had snow in April’,  I don’t give a shit. 
I don’t like it.


It wasn't as if I had put the snow shovel up in the loft of the shed or put the ice melter in the pit or anything,  but I still had to traipse through the snow this morning to GET to the shovel.

I not so fondly remember coming home from Puerto Rico on something like the sixth of April 2003 to a driveway that we could barely get through. 
Well,  the driver of the car we had pick us up from Buffalo wasn't willing to attempt it,  as it was about six inches,  covered in about an inch of ice. 

Shovelling that the next day was brutal.


In a way,  it was a lucky thing that we had flown in to Buffalo,  as the Toronto airport had been shut down.  They were having some difficulties keeping the runways clear,  and had run out of glycol to boot.

Anyway,  I saw this poor little bugger this morning.  Not sure he knew what to do.  I later saw either him or one of his brethren perched in the tree outside our back door,  and he was lifting his one foot off the branch in what looked like an effort to keep warm. 

In the, “I’ll never finish before I die” department,  I was prompted yesterday to tidy up the caulking around our ancient bathtub.

So it wasn't exactly “Sunday Fun-day”.   And then this afternoon I went about replacing the caulk with something a little more neat and tidy.
Putting it back on was a cinch. 
Getting that stuff off?  Oy.

Of course,  since I suck at this,  I've learned to simply get out the painters tape and tape it all off.

It’s a rare occasion that I won’t use tape.  And it’s been a long hard lesson to learn,  but I’ve had to accept the fact that caulking just ain’t one of my strengths.

And this is on a tub that I'm thinking we’ll rip out within the next while.  Note the fifties “Avocado” colour.
But whatever.   And when I say “we”,  I mean “me”.  Might be this year.  It depends.   I need my play time..

Probably going to go with a nice big shower,  and then renovate the bathroom off the “man cave” downstairs and install a tub down there.  Maybe something with jets?  

I mean,  we’re not big “hot tub” fans,  but on the rare occasion that T.C. and I have ventured into a hot tub,  I've been more than OK with the whole thing. 

Possible tired muscles after a round of golf?  Get yourself into the hot tub for at least twenty minutes to a half hour,  and you’ll be fine. 
 At least it’s worked for us.  And that’s my story.

It took us a couple weeks of close observation of the maintenance of the hot tub at the condo in Maui before we decided that yes,  they do indeed keep the thing clean (no bits of skin for me thanks) and maybe we’d try it out.  

We’re just a bit ‘funny’ that way.

Here’s hoping the snow melts soon.   The boats go in the water April 30,  and there was already a note today from the skipper asking for who wants to sail on what days.  I haven’t quite figured it all out yet.  I’ll let him know over the next few days I imagine.  

I do tend to take the commitment of signing up for either a Tuesday or Thursday somewhat to heart,  so I’d rather not commit to a day and then find that it doesn't work for some reason or other.

If it’s a Tuesday say,  then T.C. and I can go to a cottage on the Wednesday and come home on a Saturday.  You know.  Like that.  Watching all the cottagers heading north as we’re on our way home.  Always gratifying.

Kind of like not shopping on the weekends,  when all the working folk NEED to get to the stores.   I'm about ready to spit any time I see a retired person dare set foot into a store on a Saturday.  EVERY DAY is Saturday!   What’s yer freakin’ problem?


That’s a whole rant coming on right there,  so we won’t be doing that.

Thanks for stopping by.  And keep yer stick on the ice.

“We’re running out of candy!”

Said no sane person ever.

But that had no bearing on my version of reality, since it was then up to me to get to the local grocery type establishment and try and scrounge up something to hand out to the little buggers.

See,  last year we had all of about eight kids for Halloween.   That was it.  I think what has happened is,  we’ve had a bit of a “turn over” in the old neighbourhood,  and there are now a bunch of new families that have moved in.

Just a theory.

So,  having witnessed stacks upon stacks of various Halloween type treats on offer at the local grocery procuring establishment over the last several days, I was feeling a bit “Old Mother Hubbard”-ish when I went there at eight o’clock last night only to discover that the shelves were mostly bare.

Ruh-roh.

No worries,  I did find some cr*p… er,  stuff to give out.  It was all good.   The tricky bit was to try and get something that I’d be remotely interested in noshing on afterwards,  in case there were suddenly no more visitors at the door. 

Not that I really should be. 

Don’t judge me.  But there’s no way in hell I’m interested in anything that comes out of a Pez dispenser,  or that goes fizzy in your mouth.  Gah!  Just give me some good old fashioned chocolate bars. 

Did you know Pez was an Austrian thing?  I don’t think I saw one Pez dispenser the whole time we lived in Vienna.  Who knew?  Hell, there’s probably a Pez museum.  I mean,  there’s a Schnapsmuseum.  I kept seeing the signs for that,  but never did set aside the time to get there.

Oh well.

Anyhoodle,  I managed to prevail.  And got the car tucked back into the garage without running over any little goblins.  Did you see this?  Seriously?  There’s nothing but kids out there running around in the dark,  and you’re speeding??  I can’t even go there,  or I’ll type something here that I’ll for sure regret later. 

It seems that earlier on,  T.C. admitted that she just *might* have been giving out overly generous shares to whomever showed up at the door.  But then they didn’t stop coming.  We figure we had about 40-50 kids. 

I kept a low profile since, 1) Halloween has never been my “deal”,  and 2) T.C. refuses to acknowledge that it just ain’t the same since the kids moved out. 

Y’know,  time to move on. 

However,  my ears perked up when I heard her yell,  “Hey, there’s a kid coming up the driveway with a box on his head!”

 

There’s been at least one theory that he’s a character from something called “Mine craft.”

Just looked it up.  Yup.

I know nothing of these things.  Possibly since the last video game I played was along the lines of Super Mario.  Just looked that up as well.  We’re talking,  back in the 80s here kids.  Yikes.

There’s a “back story” to this you see.  Once upon a time,  when our lovely Daughter Number Two was given the task of making a hat for school when she was in Elementary School, and in spite of the fact that she is indeed a rather creative individual,  she managed to make a hat out of one of those “World Famous Chocolates”  boxes,  and wore it to school on her head!  I mean,  it was just a box.  On her head.

Her mother was just a tad mortified.  But we certainly laugh about it now.  The kid had moxy,  I’ll tell ya that much.  So naturally,  if we see a kid with a box on his head,  we go a little ape shit.  That makes perfect sense,  right?

 

Spent a few minutes this morning changing out the batteries in various smoke and CO detectors.   Hopefully you’ve done the same.  Damned near ran short of batteries,  since I discovered that a couple of the newer detectors that I installed last year took TWO batteries each.  They’re neat-o keen-o devices that have a built in LED light to help you get the hell out if they go off.  Hence the two battery program.  I sorted it out.

Now,  as long as we don’t burn any bacon or toast,  we’ll be good for another six months.   I find that if they go off,  the batteries do tend to get a bit weak. 

 

Looks like we’ll be having some outstanding weather over the next few days.  Just might have to go out and root around in the dirt one last time.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

Thanks for stopping by.

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.

Pardon my absence.

I guess I didn’t realise that there would be some sort of void in the blogosphere if I failed to check in from time to time.

Not dead yet.  In case you were wondering.

 

It was just a Wednesday.

I mentioned yesterday that it is indeed getting warmer,  although the bloody wind does seem to make it less than “ideal”. 

There’s an inside *thing* there.  I’ll explain some day.

 

Went off to breakfast with the “Breakfast Babes”,   where one of the attendees was presented with a quilt that was made for his Grand-daughter.

Yes,  I realise there a men in with the Breakfast Babes.  I didn’t come up with the term.

 

 

I didn’t ask ANYONE’s permission to post this.  It’s a picture of a picture.  It took them a few weeks.  And no, they didn’t use the restaurant. 

That would be weird.

Although, *thinks* getting served coffee while working on a quilt would be OK I suppose.

 

I managed to not notice the blazing sunlight coming in the window.  Oh well.

 

 

I did have a reason for mentioning the somewhat chilly temps,  since I happened to notice these young ladies this morning.

By the time I clued in to taking a quick pic,  they were a few paces away.  Click on the pic.  You’ll see.

Pyjama bottoms?   They looked like flannel,  but still.  Maybe she had ‘long johns’ underneath?  It was maybe three degrees above freezing.  Fahrenheit or Celsius, that’s not too friggin warm.

Silly Canadians.

Likely walking to Tim Horton’s. 

Actually,  I have no clue.  I’m making all this sh*t up.  Except for the pyjama bottoms.  Those are real.

 

I no sooner got home after making a couple stops after breakfast,  and T.C. was out the door for a lunch date. 

This then was the perfect chance to sort out a little dreaded job that I need to have done before putting in that first cabinet on the right. 

I prefer to work undisturbed.

 

It involved removing a duplex receptacle,  and putting a double switch in its place.

 

 

I only had to run one wire up inside the wall, which was the part that took the longest.  For anyone who has ever done this,  you know full well just how much fun it is.  I have my tricks though.

The string is actually my “safety” string that I hooked onto the wire after getting it close to its destination.  The string was strong enough to then pull the wire back up through.  Couldn’t get the fish tape to cooperate,  so I went with the old stand-by.  Coat hanger wire.

Never did figure out their goofy multi-purpose schematic/instructions.  Ended up hauling out a meter and checking for continuity across parts of the switch.  The idea is,  I want to be able to switch upper and lower lights from the one source.

 

 

Upper….

 

Or lower.

Oh wait.  Guess I didn’t do a ‘lower’ by itself.  

That entire circuit is controlled from the switches by the door. 

Anyway,  that was a fun hour or so.  Loose definition of fun.

And yes,  I shut the power off.  The duplex right next to the switches is normally hot,  and there was no way I could work in that box and stay clear of it.  And the older I get,  the less enthusiastic I am about working on sh*t with the power still on.  I’ve only been mildly zapped a few times,  but the next time might just be the last time. Just sayin’.

The duplex receptacle below with the cow plugged in is now a split,  with one part constantly hot,  and the other switched.

The night lights are only there to test things.  And for demonstration purposes.  You knew that,  right?

 

So that was my exciting day. 

 

Hey,  just doing my part to avoid the void.

 

Keep your stick on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

So much for that trend.

There’s that moment when you’ve said something,  and you then later regret it ever having passed your lips?  I don’t mean saying something nasty to someone.  I’ve tried to curtail that sort of thing over the last say, couple decades.

Otherwise there’s the “post visit debriefing”.  No guy likes one of those.  You know,  when the conversation starts out with, “You shouldn’t have said….(fill in the blank).”

No, I’m talking about saying things like,  “Well, I sure don’t mind that there’s been no snow so far this winter.”  “Nyuk nyuk.”

Feeling all smug.

That kind of thing.  Best to just shut up and move on.

It’s almost like “jinxing” it.  Or at least that’s what it feels like.  I know for sure that we never comment on how “well” we’re doing when on the race course.  That’s an absolute no-no.  There’s the sense that,  just as soon as you say something to that effect,  the head sail will totally rip right in half.  Or something equality terrifying and/or game ending will take place. 

Curious bit of human behaviour, yes?

 

Anyway,  we’re getting it.

And we’re only on the very edge.  This is just Lake Effect stuff.

 

There was just a light dusting earlier this morning,  which is why we figured the cleaning lady (don’t like that term, but there it is) would certainly be on her way.  

She didn’t make it.  Comes in from Hamilton.  There was no snow there.  There’s no snow just to the East of us.  We just happen to be right in its path.

Swell.

 

Of course,  we didn’t know that earlier this morning,  and since neither of us like to be here when she’s here doing her thing, we opted to go out for breakfast.

Actually,  Travelling Companion figured she’d hide out in her sewing room,  but then remembered that she had a conference call at 10:00 a.m.   So fine,  after breakfast I dropped her off at The Company that Cannot be Named.

For breakfast, we thought we’d get away from the usual fare of eggs in some form or other,  and decided to have pancakes.

.

OK,  this is the amount of pancakes we had left over AFTER we had had our fill.

When our server brought them out,  neither of us quite knew what to say.  Was the cook using up the batter?  Was it because I had said that whoever was on the grill on Mondays was maybe using a little too much oil?  This is my regular Wednesday morning place of breakfast,  so I’m not going to not say something, but that was the other reason we thought we’d shy away from eggs.  Last time we were there on a Monday,  our cheese omelettes were a wee bit too greasy.  

I’ve never been one to turn away food,  or complain about getting too much.  I mean,  who does that?  Are ya mental?

Besides,  yer payin’ for it Dummy,  just take it home.

So fine,  I had a couple more pancakes when I got home at around 11:00.   Only this time with real maple syrup. We were given Aunt Jemima to put on our pancakes.  Meh, no big deal, but there is certainly a big difference between actual maple syrup and Aunt Jemima.  Sorry for those of you who think there’s some possible similarity,  but you’re just wrong.

The bottle had the modern version of Aunt Jemima and everything.

 

 

I couldn’t seem to find a decent image to pilfer.  She doesn’t wear the dew rag anymore. Did you know that?

Too offensive? 

Just needed a make-over?

 

When you see some of the older renditions, that’s when you really start to feel yourself make that painful face.

 

Oh dear. 

Sad to say,  my dear ole Pappy could do a pretty good imitation of someone with those particular qualifications (I’m treading on thin ice here).  Shall we say, grammar skills? 

I would just cringe whenever he’d start to imitate what he considered to be a perfect rendition of a “person of colour”. 

Different generation. 

Different…moral compass?

Probably why he really got a kick out of All in the Family.  I felt sorry for Edith.  And Meathead. 

I do realise that it was a show to poke fun at the likes of Archie Bunker,  but I’m afraid that message went right over the head of many viewers.  Including my dear ole Pappy.   Poor sap.  

 

Anyway,  let’s not get all maudlin.  Or sentimental.  The snowstorm could be depressing enough.  

See what I did there?  It’s a depression?  Huh huh?

 

 

OK I’ll stop now.

 

Keep your powder dry.

 

Thanks for looking.

Lovely day.

And no,  I’m not being a jerk.  It really is a lovely day.  Or at least sunny.  It’s still a wee bit on the cold side,  but I mostly expect that,  as we’re in The Great White North.  Sort of.  Farther south than parts of Northern California, but we won’t split hairs.

Now yesterday?  Only if you were a penguin.  Because it was bitterly cold out.  Like,  wind blowing,  bone chilling cold.

Had to drive along the lakeshore for some reason (Oh,  shopping,  that was it.  Gotta eat) and I noticed how cool it looked out over the lake.  Had to go back for the camera.

Therefore I give you the following:

 

 

Those are Canada geese out there.  Too dumb to fly south?

 

No really,  what are they thinking?

 

Click on any picture to enlarge.  It’ll open in a new window. 

 

And I wanna tell ya,  I didn’t stay there too long.  I was bundled up really well,  but I could feel the cold starting to seep in.

Oh, and of course, the park is part of the “Waterfront Trail”,  which is this half hearted effort to try and link up the entire lakeshore trail system.  It didn’t really pan out,  since some of the “Richie Richardsons”  in various locations,  took exception to having folks meander along in front of their posh houses.  I suppose I understand.  They paid a lot of money to have that lake view.  Not a problem we have at The Ponderosa.

As a matter of fact,  this is the first time I think I’ve EVER gone down to the lake at the bottom of our street.  Just never bothered. Which is why I was surprised that there was this breakwater out there.

I showed Daughter Number Two and she said,  “Oh ya,  they put that in when you guys were in Vienna.”  Really? I guess I missed that memo.  They’re not quite done yet,  since I noticed that there are the bases for light standards along the side,  but no lights.  Wonder when that will happen. Not holding my breath.

The other day I mentioned my little “chat” with an individual from Amazon?  Well,  I got a note saying my refund had been processed!

I know my “recipient” did say she’s send it back at the first of the week, but I thought that was pretty darned quick.  Of course,  I’m never completely convinced until I see our credit card get credited.  “Credit” in that sense is when you “get” the money.  “Debit” is when it’s taken away.  That’s the extent of my vast accounting knowledge.  Hey, I’ve been known to slave over the odd P & L back in the day, (back in the pre-computer era) but that was nursery rhymes compared to the complicated stuff T.C. used to dig into.  I couldn’t even begin to understand that.

 

Meanwhile,  the Crock Pot that we ordered for ourselves arrived today.  Intact.

It’s a little guy,  just for two people.  We have a bigger one,  which we use from time to time,  but usually only when there’s company, or we’re feeding a mob.  The left overs go on for too many days if we use the big one for just the two of us.

I thought maybe I’d rinse out the insert,  put some water in it,  and make sure it works before taking away the packaging.  We’re good.  At least if I have to send stuff back from here,  I know whose address to put on the return thingy.

We’ll be trying it out in the next few days I would imagine.

 

I guess that’s all I got.  I might take a few minutes and give the big “NFL wheel of picks” a spin.  I don’t really have a wheel,  but that method would pretty much sum up the way I’ve been making picks all season.  It’s worked so far.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for lookin’.

Like wrestling an alligator.

Only without the teeth.  And the squirming.

Well let’s face it, I’ve never wrestled anything, so I have no idea.

Oh wait.

Except for one guy way back in grade nine.  We’re talking 1972 here.  Poor bugger was in my “weight class”,  but was about a foot shorter than I, with stubby little arms.  Pinning him was easy peasy.  And no,  I was not going to be on the school’s wrestling team. 

As if.

They asked.  I quickly shot down that idea.

It’s like phys ed teachers are forever trolling for suckers.  Bad enough that phys ed was mandatory for both grades nine and ten.  You could drop it in the later grades, but of course that was when they did cool things like golf.   Yes.  Golf.  What the hell?

Way to make up an enticing program for all the newbies in grade nine.  Like I want to do wrestling or *shudder* gymnastics.  You could get hurt!  Let me go out and learn to swing a golf club!  That’s a true “life skill”.

Speaking of which,  that was the same poor bugger who broke his tibia while trying to do some sort of flip.  AND the idiot phys ed teacher (yes, I said “idiot”) was going to move him to the nurse’s room.  I distinctly remember saying, “I heard it snap!”.  

I said it quite forcefully,  I seem to recall.  No wonder that teacher never liked me much.  

Pretty sad when a dim-witted little grade nine such as yours truly, had a better understanding of the limitations of a feller’s leg bone than the highly edumacated teacher type person.

They went and got a gurney.  Stubby was off for a couple days and sure enough,  he showed up on crutches sporting a cast with yup,  a broken tibia.

I’m not going to name teacher names.  He’s not dead yet.  I’m sure I’ll never know.

 

But hey,  yesterday’s theme was dumb people.  We should really move on.

 

Today was get the kids new rug out of our dining room day.

Which meant I once again had to get it into the Merc.  Thankfully son-in-law muscled it up the full flight of stairs to their place.

Pets are always highly intrigued by new smelly things.  Especially “Puck”,  their ADHD cat.

Well,  I say he’s ADHD,  but then maybe that’s just the way of cats.  It’s possible. 

He’s a little….different.

 

There were instructions.  The first one of which was for the dog,  telling him to get OFF the rug for just a minute or two.  Not an easy thing to explain to a dog.  “You can come back in a minute,  but for now take a hike!”  He actually knew what to do.

 

Then of course, there’s the dummy.  I mean,  ADHD cat.

He likes to chew on plastic.  He doesn’t seem to eat it.  Just chew it.  Allegedly.

 

Then of course,  he lost interest in the plastic and chose to sniff every square inch of the new rug.  Like,  for the next half hour or so.

Didn’t take him long to once again lose interest, and head off for a nap in the dog’s crate.  Not sure what’s going on there.  A safe place?  Trying to annoy the dog?  Both are possibilities. (He’s not really that dumb.)

All that rug sniffing is HARD WORK for a cat.

I didn’t take a photo.

Speaking of wrestling things out the door,  Saturday we decided was the day to take down and turf out the tree.

I have a regular routine.  I wrap it up in an old curtain and haul it out that way.  I’ve never been overly keen to fill up the vacuum with all the needles that are ready to fall off at that point. 

 

Only problem is,  I’ve been out of the school system for so long, that my old curtains are starting to come apart.  In several places.  I may have to resort to a tarp next year. 

The tree is already at the curb,  and will be picked up next week by the region.  They mulch them up and add them to the big pile of dirt that they offer back to residents each year in the form of rich soil/compost.  Free.  You just have to show up with some means of carting it off.  It’s kind of a cool idea really.  They explain it on one of their webpages.

 

OK,  now I’m just starting to ramble.  That’s a good indication that I’m “empty”.  Still hanging in there in the NFL pool.  Gawd only knows how I managed that one.  We’ll see what next week brings.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

It’s Monday, right?

Sometimes I sort of forget.  That’s either really awesome, such as when my eldest brother, who has been retired for something like 30 years once said, “Every day is Saturday”.

Or maybe kinda sad?

I’m thinking mostly sad. And that’s because there are moments when I draw a complete blank on what day it is.  Eventually I snap out of it,  and figure it out,  but I suppose that, with the exception of trying to stay out of the stores on the weekends,  most every day is the same. 

And speaking of which, what’s with the Seniors hanging around the stores on a Saturday?  I swear to Gawd!  Lookin’ for the good stuff?  I just don’t get it.  You’ve got all week people!   There are working folk who only have the weekends.  Stay the hell home!

The best time to shop ever in my life was after midnight,  when I was on afternoons and there was a grocery store here in town that was open 24 hours.  With the exception of the boys stocking the shelves,  and possibly playing their music a little too loud,  the place was gloriously empty.  I would actually take a buggy,  and leisurely float from isle to isle.

The joint down the street here is right across from various “old age” establishments,  and if you’re there any later than 11:00 in the morning,  they’re out in full force.  Even on a Monday. 

And forget Saturdays, jaysus.

I take a basket,  and make a bee-line for what I need,  and get the hell out.

 

I’m still Christmas shopping.  Mostly done.  I think.  A lot of it has happened on line. Definitely my kinda shopping.  Or I order something and pick it up off to the side.  One of my favourite stores has multiple ways of ordering stuff,  and there’s never a line-up at their pick-up area.

I think eventually most all Christmas shopping will be done on line.  Well, that would be my ideal means of doing it.  I’m sure there are those who still wander the mall looking for just the right “thing”.  To me that’s the worst kind of torture.

 

You may have to click on that to see the price.  This was one of those moments when I actually took a second look.  I think my jaw dropped ever so slightly as well.

We haven’t seen gas prices like that for a long while.  Certainly well before we did the European visit.  And we left here in ‘08.   I think it was already over a buck at that point already.

Too hard to figure out what that is in gallons and then do the conversion to US dollars.  Figure it out and let me know.  It’s always cheaper in the States anyway,  so what difference does it make? 

 

I guess I really didn’t have a point in being here,  except to beak off about people being in stores when they hadn’t ought to be,  and the price of gas.

Oh well,  if you’re a stock pickin’ kinda person at all,  let’s just say there are some dealskis out there?  Everyone is dumping oil stocks like crazy.  Time to buy!  Psst, go for the ones paying dividends!

 

That’s all I got.

 

Keep it between the ditches….and…

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

 

.

It was bound to happen.

We got our first snowfall.

And isn’t it wonderful!

Now,  I should mention at this point,  especially to those who may have arbitrarily drifted on through here and who are not aware of just how my pea brain is scrambled,  that there may be a hint of sarcasm there?

Of better yet,  say those words right after you’ve let off a little gas,  and you’re not quite sure whether or not you might have crapped in your underpants.  

That’s as close as I can get without being overly graphic.

 

It’s OK though.  Really.  We don’t have to go out there with the crazies,  who find themselves running late after having lined up at the Tim Horton's drivethru. 

Have you seen some of those line-ups?  That can’t be an efficient use of your commuting time. 

We did make our way through a Tim Horton’s drivethru at one point this morning,  and that was only because by that time it was too late to go anywhere for breakfast.  There was nary a soul in front of us,  so that was a breeze.

Which is more than I can say for Travelling Companion’s “stress test” this morning.

The test itself started right on schedule,  but then we somehow got lost in a sea of incompetence afterwards,  when we were asked to “just wait for a few minutes”  until the results were ready.  Or something like that.

You know,  it’s a funny thing,  but after about an hour and a half of waiting,  I was beginning to have a better understanding of the concept of euthanasia. 

I mean,  if my later years are going to be spent waiting in Doctors offices,  then I can see how one might look forward to “Sweet Death”. 

There was the offer of an excuse,  but it was pretty f**king lame.

Apparently (and I’m paraphrasing here) “it didn’t come up on the computer.”  “You should have knocked on my door”. 

Say what?

You mean,  you don’t know who is in your office?  And who are you, anyway? 

Like we’re supposed to know.  Maybe next time I’ll just go throughout the office (it was quite the labyrinth) and just knock on all the doors?  That should be really swell. 

The doctor was blindly out of the loop, since he seems to rely on his assistant to bring in the next contestant.

There’s more than one “service” being offered at this place, so patients are coming and going.  Some are there for allergies.  Some are there for EEGs.  It’s a mixed bag.  They were all getting called.  Some of them over and over again.  We just sat there.

Back in the day when we were using the equivalent of a Commodore 64 for all our computing needs,  I might have let that one slide.  But I’m sorry, these days there’s no excuse, so don’t blame your ineptness on some “computer”.   Not overly impressed.

Travelling Companion was really close to getting up and walking out.  I was fine either way, because I didn’t want to be the instigator,  but I was starting to get a little peckish towards 10 a.m.   And we had been there since well before 8:30.

Wishing for death. 

Or maybe just a muffin.

 

Travelling Companion tells me that the doc was matter of fact,  so there wasn’t much of a feel for his “bedside manner”,  but it’s understandable how a person might not be overly thrilled with the whole experience?

And that’s when you start to wonder about those reviews.

But let’s not be digging up subjective BS.   I never saw the guy face to face,  so I have no opinion.  He could be the next best thing to Jesus raising the dead.  Or he could be a total horse’s hind end. 

 

 

 

We’ll be making another trip in the morning.  This time it’s back to the hospital for, “Pre-Op”.   They say, “three to four hours”.  

Really?

I did a “Pre-Op” once upon a time for a hernia,  and I think it was maybe an hour start to finish. 

I’m going to “opt” out of this one.  I’ve offered to drive,  drop her off,  and go back and fetch her.  We’ll also save on parking that way.

We’ll see how that goes.

 

Keep your socks pulled up.

 

Thanks for stopping by.