Piss poor packaging results in Pitiful Performance.

Not sure why these kind of thoughts enter my pea brain,  but I figured it would make a half decent post title.

This is the second time that something that could possibly be broken or damaged in transit from Amazon has arrived broken or damaged.   It's a crap shoot apparently.   Most things,  and they're usually things unavailable locally that I order,  are items that cannot possible have anything done to them.
You know,  batteries.   Random replacement cords.  Elastic for masks due to a Pandemic.

Stuff like that.

Just punt it up the driveway.  It'll be fine.

But then,  as all the stores were closed,  there was a "thing"  that was deemed necessary for a birthday present,  and the entire process was just a clusterfuck.

Firstly,  it was "in stock",  so we ordered it.  And mysteriously,  it was then "out of stock",  and "we're not sure when we are expecting this item". 

Huh?

So,  I chatted with somebody or other,  who then cancelled that order and sent another colour.   Which ironically,  turned out to be the colour we wanted in the first place.   But,  instead of arriving some three weeks ago,  it wasn't due to get her until today.

Well,  what you gonna do in a Pandemic?   So that was that.

Then of course,  it arrived chipped.

What the f**k!!

So back it went.

It's one thing to chip the enamel of your Dutch Oven after you've had it for maybe ten years,  but not if it's never seen the inside of an oven even once.

I'm not sure exactly what kind of monkey it is that packs these things,  but the way I packed it to send it back was a better job than their method of throwing one box inside another with a few feet of paper to keep it in place.

That method didn't seem to work.

It should be noted that Amazon keeps looking for more people to come and work at their distribution facilities.   There's no mention however,  as to whether those folks should actually have a brain in their head.   And who knows,  maybe it was damaged before it even got to Amazon?   Do they bother to check on stuff that arrives at the distribution centre?

What ever.


There was no option on the "next...next....next"  Amazon return page for any kind of a replacement,  so after conferring with T.C.,  I slapped on the shipping labels and made a jaunt to the Post Office.

I mean,  the good news is,  We'll get our money back,  and return shipping is free,  but seriously.   All they had to do was put in just a wee bit more paper inside the "outside" box to keep the "inside" box from moving around.  Didn't do that.

Oh and,   the other thing?   "Made in China".

*grumble*

T.C. didn't really want it if it were made in China,  but nowhere on the web page did it say anything about that.   Not sure you can get much of anything that's not made in China these days,  but we'd sure like to get away from that if at all possible.


Other than bitching about that this morning,  I got nothin'.

The weather's perfect.   The grass needs to be cut.

Sailing this summer looks like it's pretty much off the table.   Regattas and racing have been getting cancelled left right and centre.

My understanding is that the boat is in the water,  and I guess that if any ONE of us wants to go out with the Skipper,  that would be fine.   But sailing is more about the company and the conversation than just getting from point A to point B.

This too shall come to pass.

Hope everyone is OK.

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

OK so, it's SNOWING!

Note: This was actually yesterday's post,  but somehow (somehow?)  I got lazy and didn't finish what I started.   BUT,  it's snowing again this morning. )


I wanted (like, really) wanted to put the "F" word in there.  But I think you get the drift.  That,  and of course the wind is blowing.
It's flippin' April 21st.

(No,  see above....)

That's about all I have on my mind at the moment. 

Well,  and I did just order some "stuff"  on line just now.  "Free delivery",  or you could order for pick up,  and they'd bring it out to your vehicle.   But then I'd have to,  I don't know,  drive there?

Mind you,  gas is so cheap right now,  that just driving around isn't such a huge deal, but why?  We've been so programmed to try and make every trip count,  and not run around aimlessly,  that it somehow just doesn't feel right to "go for a drive".  I know there are some who do,  and I do appreciate the need to keep from going bonkers,  so I'm OK with that.

Just not my thing.

Now,  speaking of making a trip for nothing,  I did the trip to Costco this morning.

First of all,  Costco has set it up so that "Seniors and those with mobility issues"  can come in on Tuesday,  Wednesday and Thursday from between eight and nine.

Well,  even though the streets of Burlington seemed relatively calm and I dare say deserted,  that was NOT the case this morning at Costco.  And this was at about 7:45.  Somehow I think that every flippin' senior in town was lined up to get in to Costco.   I mean like,  they were lined up around the building. 

And as we well know,  it's a BIG big building.


First of all,  my left knee has been giving me some grief today (weather related?  possibly)  so without a cart to lean on,  that was reason number one why this wasn't the place for me.   The reason number two?   Number Two.
Let me repeat that.   Number Two.

Early in the morning?  Old guy?

I do vividly recall shitting myself when I was about four, maybe?  That sensation of having a nice warm turd just hanging there right below the crack of yer arse is something that one tends to remember for a long,  long time.

Needless to say,  it's a memory that'd I'd prefer to not revisit.  Once was enough.

Now,  I realise there may come a day,  maybe twenty,  thirty years from now?   Let's not even think about it.


Anyhoodle,  T.C.  and I made a little trip to see each of the Daughter Units to drop off some Muffin Mix (it's a Mom thing) .  Plus,  Daughter Number One had been lamenting the fact that,  normally she only makes coffee at home on the weekends,  as she's one of those commuter types,  and she's been going through her really pricey fancy coffee,  so I took her some of the cheap stuff.  I just drink the cheap stuff.    No cat pooped coffee for me.  (There's a bit of a poop theme going on here.)

These deliveries took place some time around three in the afternoon,  so we thought,  "Why not at least drive by the Costco and see how it looks?"   It didn't look that bad!
So we went in.   You can't just wander in.   They're only allowing so many in the store,  but we were maybe only number 10 in line.
Of course,  there are still a few boneheads who still haven't cottoned on to the procedure.  One old guy was either trying to cut in to get a cart or whatever,  and was informed by the staff that he had to get in line and they'd give him a (freshly sanitised) cart.   He then walked past me,  said something or other,  and touched my shoulder!   What the actual fuck!?
That coat is hanging up out in the garage.   Don't fucking touch me! 
Even when there's no Goddamned Pandemic,  don't touch me!

And that's not to say I wanted to knock him on his ass or anything.  I think he was just trying to be friendly.  Plus,  knocking him on his ass would involve having to touch him. Gah!

Well,  out weekly "Meeting"  with my breakfast group is about to start.  So that's it for me.


Hope y'all are well.

Thanks for stopping by and moving your eyes back and forth.

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.

Well, I had to do it.

Go out,  that is.

I think there was a slight welling up of panic when I realised that the coffee container that I was about to empty was not the second last one,  but the last one!

Gah!
 
Gotta step up my game when it comes to knowing what I have in store,  as I thought I had a spare.  I always have a spare.

So,  I sucked it up and went to Costco.   And I must say,  they've figured it out.

First of all,  I did have to go out early Monday morning,  as we were getting down on the bread end of things,  and the store down the street had an hour set aside for "old folks"  from seven to eight.  AND,  unlike the store where T.C. had to go to last week,  these guys had a security guard at the entrance way,  sort of eyeing everyone on their way in so as to make sure they were in fact seniors. 
Apparently,  I qualify.   No need for I.D. 
Not sure if that should sadden me or not.
And it was not crowded in the least.
I made sure to profusely thank all the employees for being there that early.

Anyway,  Costco also has an hour set aside before they open,  from eight until nine on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday for seniors but unfortunately,  I didn't get that memo in time,  so I went for normal hours. 

Not a huge deal.

I naively grabbed a cart from one of the corrals to take in with me,  but that wasn't needed,  as they were sanitising all the carts just as you went in,  so no need for the gloves or wipes on my part.  AND,  they had two distinct areas/lines set up,  divided by piles of skids,  so as to separate those going in,  from those coming out.  We did have to line up,  with everyone far enough apart for proper distancing etiquette.   Plus,  there was a bit of a wait,  as they were only allowing a certain number of shoppers in at once.  I read somewhere that the number was 50,  but don't quote me.

Then it was pretty much easy peasy from then on,  as they had everything that was on my list.  And no,  I didn't need toilet paper,  although I did see that they had boatloads. 

Then,  coming out,  there were two distinct lines to get up to the check out area,  with hash marks on the floor as a reminder of proper distancing etiquette once again.  It was very orderly.   Didn't have to put my groceries on the belt.  Had a spot to stand as it was being rung up,  the cashier scanned my Costco card from about six feet away (a bit of overkill I thought)  and I only really had to come in contact with the payment terminal,  which her assistant had just wiped down.  I had sanitiser with me and gave my hands a going over after all that as well.

Oh and,  they didn't do that whole checking off your crap against your receipt thing either.  I never did understand that.  Like they're able to tell if you've got all your goods?  Really?  Or that you somehow miraculously were able to slip an extra huge bag of flour onto your cart?

They had removed one of the terminals at each end of the line of terminals in order to make extra room.  This was a welcome change from the way it had always been,  where your cart goes one way,  and you're forced into an area next to the other member behind you.  I never did like that.

And,  as I said to the cashier,  I've never liked it when fellow shoppers get too close to me anyway,  so I was completely good with the whole situation.    Like,  beyond happy.   Thinking up catchy T-shirt captions,  that sort of thing.*

I think I first started to notice folks being too close to me when we lived in Puerto Rico,  as fellow shoppers were forever getting well into my comfort zone.  Thankfully,  I'm taller than most Puerto Ricans,  so I never got any of the head colds that always seemed to be going around.  That's also probably where I really started to become a bit of a Germaphobe. 

Or maybe even before that?   Not sure.


Oh,  speaking of which,  and this was the only time I actually spoke with another shopper,  while standing in line,  I couldn't help but notice what I think was a lady who,  for what can only be due to paranoia,  was basically covered from head to toe in plastic.   She had plastic bags on her feet,  some sort of plastic bag on her torso.  Plastic bags on each leg.  A mask,  and the obligatory plastic bag on her head. 

I so wish I had taken my camera.

Oh and,  she was lining her cart with newspaper!   Newspaper!

Because apparently them spraying down all the carts just before they give you one wasn't enough, and somehow you can get a virus through your feet?
The floors were so clean you could eat off them.  And I dare say,  as a result of some of the over the top efforts of just about any place you can think of,  floors in public places these days are probably cleaner than most people's houses!


So,  the guy in front of me saw this at about the same time as me,  turned to me,  said not a word.   But I had to say,  "OK,  there's being prepared,  and then there's being paranoid."

But hey,  whatever floats yer boat.   I mean,  you can cut up an onion,  put it in your bedroom,  and as long as you never leave your bedroom,  you'll never get sick. 
True.
It probably works just as well with watermelon,  but they'd need to be in season.

No plans to go anywhere for a few days again,  as I'll head to the wine making place to pick up our new supply on Tuesday.   I was going to go today,  but let me just say,  it's surprising just how often one relies on one's back muscles for the simplest things?

No big deal.  I've done this before.  Just happened to bend down the wrong way,  and ouch!
I'll be better by Tuesday I'm sure.  Just...putting on socks this morning was....a chore. 

Annoyingly,  I have a few things in the house that need shifting around,  which normally T.C. and I could manage together,  so that's out the window.  Plus of course,  I can't even call on one of the Daughter Units or Sons-in-law to come help,  as we don't want to have anyone come to the house. 


Thanks for stopping by.

Keep your stick on the ice.

And wash your hands.



*I'm thinking of a caption like,  "Now I can say it.  Get the f**k away from me!"

Well, that was a "fun" day.

Just checking in here.  You may have to move your eyes back and forth a bit. 

For years now,  I've been driving around (in several different countries as well,  but you know that)  relatively unscathed when it comes coming into contact with other vehicles.   There have been a few close calls,  like a couple weeks ago when someone (never did see the driver) decided to come out of a parking garage without looking,  and was within about a foot of my driver's door before the light went on,  realising that there was someone there.   I was laying on the horn the whole time.  It was a "retirement residence",  so your guess is as good as mine.

Now,  that was in downtown Burlington.  I think maybe I need to stay out of the downtown or something,  but we need to go there once a week to get to the Pub.   I mean,  there are some things I ain't gonna give up.

Anyhoo,  last Thursday  (Oh and,  Happy belated Thanksgiving to our American friends)  I was once again in the downtown,  tooling along,  minding my own business,   when a garbage truck driver decided to fling open his door to go back and help his buddy do their thing.   Unfortunately,  his timing was spot on.   Well that is,  if he HAD been aiming to drive his door into the side of my truck.   Isn't there a thing about,  "Be sure and check for traffic before opening your door.?    Well,  he didn't.

It's actually kinda hard to make out in those pics,  I suspect due to it being a white truck. 

Anyhoo,  there's a big ole crease on the passenger door,  the mirror is obliterated,  and the window is kinda scratched to shit.  Oh,  and there's the beginnings of a crease on the second door too.   That sticker there is from the cop shop,  letting everyone know that yes,  pictures have been taken.

Funny thing is,  when I called the insurance company,  at some point the young lady on the phone asked,  "Do you have the mirror?". 

*Snort*!  Um,  there was nothing left of the mirror! 
After waiting for "The Supervisor" and sorting out all the information,  we picked up the bits and threw it all in the back of the garbage truck.  The door of the garbage truck?  Well,  it was bent up pretty good as well,  and couldn't be opened.  (So at least the driver won't be opening his door into traffic for the rest of his shift?)
Interestingly,  although most of the handle is missing on the Tundra,  the door was still operable.

One thought that I had was,  "What if I had been riding a bicycle?"   I mean,  I nearly got "doored" once in Vienna,  but that door wasn't at chest height,  such as was the case with the garbage truck.   I suspect I would have been in the hospital,  or worse. 

It's in the shop.  The estimate was thirty-six hundred. 

I know!  I thought maybe a couple grand,  but I suppose it adds up.  The parts have been ordered and should arrive today.  And here's something interesting,  the insurance company only gives the body shop seven days to put it right after the parts arrive.   Maybe that's because I have a rental that they're paying for??   

Speaking of which,  it's a mini-van.   And,  I realise we rented one a couple years ago in Maui,  and that was fine and all,  but I really wanted a pick-up truck.  And I mean,  this mini-van has a lot of little bells and whistles,  (heated steering wheel,  heated seats,  remote start,  remote operable sliding doors and rear hatch)  but just the same,  it's a POS.

There's something sort of rattling around in the rear suspension,  which I find somewhat disconcerting.  Plus,  every time I start it up,  it tells me it's due for an oil change.  Really??

Even Travelling Companion had a somewhat less than complimentary comment in the brief time that she rode in it with me yesterday.  And I hadn't said anything to influence her opinion in any way.

It's built by the people who claim to have "perfected the mini-van"  after having introduced it back in 1984.   Anyway,  I just thought,  "If this is their idea of having perfected it,  I'm not sure what they've been smoking."

Of course,  they're also 58% owned by Fiat,  so now you know what I'm talking about.

I'll be bugging the manager over at the rental company to see if I can trade it for a truck when one shows up.  Apparently they only have so many of them,  and they were all out.

Well,  that's my little missive for today.  And maybe for a while.

Hope all is well with you lot.

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep your stick on the ice.

Watching the "show".

Now that we're both "pensioners",  (love that term),  Travelling Companion and I like to sit in the living room in the morning with our coffees and watch the world go by.  There's the usual assortment of basketball bouncing boys on their way to school, mixed in with the dog walkers.  Dog poop picker uppers (we're watching you!)  and others.

Well,  this morning we had a special treat,  as one of our neighbours had a little "off leash"  incident with what will soon become yet another annoying dog in a long line of annoying dogs that they've had over the last 20 years or so.   Maybe longer.

Now,  the dog had a leash attached,  but of course,  didn't know enough to come when called.  Travelling Companion went so far as to say,  "That's a bad dog!".   But, as the dog is really just another pack animal,  and has no idea that the two lunk heads calling her are supposed to be the "alpha dogs",  she just figures it's play time. 

So,  just a "bad dog" in training.

I did have the camera at the ready,  but couldn't seem to capture the hilarity as the two idiots tried to coax, cajole,  threaten the dog to come to them.
And you know,  after having two previous idiot dogs,  you'd think they'd realise that they have no clue that they have no clue.
It's one of the latent human characteristics like,  talking down to someone.  Or,  being stupid and not knowing it.

There's a German expression that comes to mind.   Something about "knowing that you know nothing..."

Wer nichts weiß und weiß, dass er nichts weiß, weiß mehr als der, der nichts weiß und nicht weiß, dass er nichts weiß.

I'll let you look that one up.


Oh and,  in defence of the dog?  She's probably a sweetheart but,  to quote a gentleman I once met in Ludlow, New Brunswick,  "She ain't go no larnin'".    And yes,  if you draw a more or less straight line from The Appalachians on up into the Maritimes,  you get my drift.


Anyway,  life goes on here at the Ponderosa. 

Masts have been stepped.  Boats have been put up.   Leaves are getting raked (well,  blown really)  and gardens are getting ripped up.
T.C. and I have yet to plant some garlic for next year,  and that may happen today or tomorrow.   If you've never had home grown garlic,  you have no idea what you're missing.  See reference above.

I suppose I could relate a little bit about the "fridge saga".  Yes?

See,  back in August,  just before Travelling Companion was to go off to first Paris and then on to Kenya,   our "GE Profile"  fridge decided to take a little holiday as well.
On the plus side,  we did made some discoveries concerning mystery items that had been left in the freezer compartment,  and thankfully we have a full sized fridge downstairs.   And you know,  there had been talk of "getting rid" of that fridge,  but thankfully that never happened.   Plus,  right now it's full of bags of apples.   But I digress.

At the time,  especially  as T.C. was going away,  I figured I would just get by as I wasn't about to go fridge shopping in her absence.  Not prudent.

I brought in the small bar fridge that I have in my garage/shop,  which was handy enough for a few things like milk and cream for our coffee,  along with whatever else I could squeeze in.

Then of course,  after taking a gander on the internet,  somewhere I read that,  if you unplug the thing for 24 hours,  it might work again.  And it did!   For a time.

This time of course,  I had placed a thermometer inside,  as I was having some trust issues,  and sure enough,  along towards the first full week of September,  it started to fail again.  It had to go.


I'm just going to jump ahead here and point out that,  this is the new one:

It's got that whole "bottom freezer"  thing going on,  which is pretty cool.   However,  we do think it's a "stupid fridge".  It doesn't seem to have the room of the previous one,  and one of the drawers for cold cuts or whatever,  can only be accessed if you open BOTH DOORS! 
Right.  Stupid.

Oh and,  you'll notice that there are no doors on the cabinet above? 

*sigh*


This,  was essentially what I had to do to fit in a new fridge.

 You can see the old one sitting out there in the hallway.  Even though the fridge body is the same size,  the doors at the front,  and the hinges to which they are attached,  are a couple inches bigger/taller/whatever.

So ya,  that was "fun'.   I'm trying not to curse right about now. 

You're welcome.

The short story is,  we ordered the wrong size fridge since,  unbeknown to us,  the salesman didn't really know what the f**k he was talking about,  and it was only the delivery guy who pointed out that,  even with the doors removed,  the "LG"  that we wanted,  wouldn't make it through the doorway opening leading to the kitchen. "They don't include the stuff sticking out at the back in the dimensions".   Huh?
 I had to go back to the appliance place and purchase a "counter depth" fridge.  I think that's what it was called.

Now the good news was,  it was about five hundred bucks cheaper than the LG however,  we really wanted the LG.  Not another GE Profile.  *sigh*     The GEs are now made in China.  The LGs are still made in Korea.

No bueno.

We'll see if this one lasts as long as the previous one,  but I have my doubts.
  Oh,  and the other thing?   The new fridge was on back order.  We had Thanksgiving here,  with no fridge in the kitchen.  But hey,  it just means one has to be flexible.  Or something.

The appliance place had offered to send us a temporary fridge,  but we didn't really want that,  as then they'd have to take it away again of course. There's always the chance that something is going to get scratched or bumped. 
Nope,  we would just wait it out for the one that's going to stay.

Interestingly,  when T.C. asked if they would charge the fifty dollar delivery charge for the temporary fridge,  they said "no".  So that begged the question,  why did we get charged fifty dollars for a fridge that we didn't receive? 
Needless to say,  T.C. got our fifty bucks back.    Apparently it comes out of the commission of the stupid salesman.   I was quite content to hear that.



I think I had better stop now,  as I'm already on a rant about stupid people.

At some point I suppose I'll have to make some new doors for that cabinet and turf the old ones out.  Just not really looking forward to it is all.

Again,  *sigh*.

Thanks for moving your eyes back and forth.

Keep that stick on the ice.

And keep smiling.

Dealing with boneheads.

It so happens that,  I get maybe three or four phone calls in a day from a number that I do not recognise.   Or sometimes it's a "Private Caller",  and I figure why would I answer,  when they clearly want their privacy?
So,  a lot of calls go unanswered.   If your name and number are in the in-house phone system,  then it will come up after a couple rings.   Or,  if somehow your name is attached to your number,  it will come up. 
Hey,  I might answer.   Maybe it's someone whom I've called and they're calling me back?
Could happen.
Most times,  the number has been reported as some sort of Robo call or scam.  If, that is,  there's any way to find out more about the number.
Let Google do the work.

And don't get me wrong,  I *appreciate*  if a credit card company calls to tell there's something up with the card.  I do,  really.    However....

This morning,  as happens from time to time,  there was a phone call.   Number didn't look familiar to me,  so I left it.   Next thing I know,  there's a "voice mail"  message,  and so I check it out.
Sometimes those "voice mail"  messages are just a click,  or someone telling you you've won a cruise.

Riiiiiight.

Turns out,  the lady leaving the message claims to be from Canadian Tire.

First of all,  they call themselves,  "Canadian Tire Bank",   but they are not a bank.   So I'm not sure what the heck that's supposed to mean.   But anyway,  I call the number that she left,  and proceeded to sit on hold for 20 minutes.

Twenty f**king minutes!   That was my limit,  so I hung up.

"High call volume",   which tells me that you need to do some hiring.   Or,  possibly so many people have had their cards messed with that,  maybe there are a lot of folks callin' ya??

Either way,  answer the damned phone!

Since it was the "fraud"  line,  I figure I had better pursue this,  so I call the number on my statement.

Now,  you have to understand that,  I owe a whopping $13.54.   It's due September 6th. 

I check my online banking situation and,  sure enough it's due to come out the day ahead of time,  so I'm still not sure why the heck they have decided to waste by now a good half hour of my time.
I had called the number that's on the statement,  which was a *different* number than the one that the lady who left the message quoted.
Had to go through the usual "press this" "press that"  to then get put on hold.

Well,  turns out somehow when they issued the new improved "Triangle Master Card"  I *guess*  there must have been some information that got out?    There was no admission of this, I'm just making this up.  The thing is, there were purchases made that had nothing to do with me.  And coincidentally,  this transition just took place a few weeks ago. 
I'm not a big believer in coincidences.


And I don't get it.   Each and every time I use that card (and it ain't that often, trust me,  thirteen bucks,  remember?)  I have to put in a four digit pin.  Not my house address.  Not my phone number.   Not numbers that anyone is going to guess.  But maybe if you order sh*t on line??   Maybe the pin isn't required?

Don't know.

I don't use that card for anything on line.

And that's a good thing.

So no,  I didn't order anything from "Brother"  (a printer maybe?)  or whatever that other thing was that she mentioned.  I forget.  Didn't care.  Wasn't me.
They needed my email address in case they have to send me an affidavit.  Right,  somehow I suspect another deluge of junk emails.

After I cut up my card and cancelled my account,  I was asked "is there anything else we can do for you today?"  I hate when they ask that.  Are they just *trying* to aggravate me even more?
First of all,  all that you've "done for me today" is piss me off,  why would I want to keep talking to you?

 I simply asked first of all, "Is this recorded?"  To which she replied in the affirmative,  so I said,   "Then record this,  if you call me and ask me to call you back,  don't make me sit on hold!".  "Answer the phone.  That's all.  Just answer the phone"
 And really,  it's not the fault of the poor unfortunate simpleton on the other end,  so I was civil. 

No,  really. 

Surgery sweet almost.


That's it.  I feel better now.

Thanks for moving your eyes back and forth.

Oh,  and when they send the new card?  I'll probably cancel that account.  I don't think I can trust "Canadian Tire Financial" or "Canadian Tire Bank"   with anything more than maybe keeping the lights on and the air condition running.

Keep your stick on the ice.

The final application.

I hope.

I was actually starting to write "The final solution",  but that has a whole other meaning.  Not a good one.

Although,  we are talking about...  extermination.  But I'm only talking about wasps.  Honestly.

Man,  I'm digging myself a hole here.


The other morning,  I was out on what was then the shady side of the house knocking back the weeds,  and I realised that the hoe I was using had just the right shape that would allow me to pry off the top area of the trim without getting too close to the wasps.

So,  yesterday morning,  before they got too active,  I did just that,  which allowed me to see just what the heck was going on behind it.


Can't see much,  actually.

The ones that have survived are still going in and out of a tiny gap in the foam up there at the top.






This evening at dusk,  I got up there with a step ladder and sprayed in another dose of Wilson's "One Shot".

Even though really,  it's taken more than just the one shot.  Hate to say it.  I guess you're supposed to be able to get this stuff directly onto the nest,  but like I said, these guys are up in behind the foam insulation somehow.  No bueno.

I'll see if there are any dead bodies in the morning.   There were a few yesterday morning after I removed the trim,  but when I went back out to take another look,  they were mysteriously gone.  Maybe blew off?   Dunno.

Did a little more prep work on the painting end of things today.   I'm on to the next colour,  so I had to go back to one spot where it looked like I had a bit of a thin spot and put on a wee bit more.
Hate when that happens.

Wednesdays can be a bit of a wasted day for me anyway,  as I go to breakfast with a bunch of other old farts and generally complain about whatever is bugging us at the moment.  Right now it's the number of high rise condos that are being built in our downtown core.  Which is one of the reasons that Burlington has slipped way down to number 31 on the "livability"  scale that some group or other put out a while back.  We were ninth in 2017. 
Don't get me started.

Not sure how accurate it is,  but if they use the same criteria year after year,  then I suppose there's some credibility to the study.  Some magazine called Money Sense.

*****

Saw these suspicious looking characters wandering up the street yesterday.  This is what happens when you're painting with no window coverings and the camera is close at hand.

Think they're Jehovah's?

 Maybe Seventh Day Adventist.

    It's been a few years,  or I dare say *decades* since we've had anyone come to our door selling their particular brand of piety.  I think I've got the message across.
I won't elaborate.

Well, except that,  there was this time,  and this was the first summer we were here in 1992, when  two ladies came up the driveway and wanted to "chat".    I said I didn't mind,  but as I was cutting the grass at that very moment and it had to get done,  and they had interrupted the proceedings,  I simply asked which one of them wanted to keep doing the work?  You know,  so I could sit and "chat".
I *love* to sit and chat!

Hey, it's what I was doing this morning at breakfast!

However,  neither of them thought they were up to cutting the grass.  Lazy Bastards.
They looked fit to me.  I mean,  you do all that walking around lugging a bible or whatever,  you have to have a bit of stamina.  Don't you think?


All I know is, I've certainly never shown up at some stranger's door *uninvited*  and asked if we could "chat".   Like,  what are you thinking?

I realise that,  back in the Depression,  when men were truly down and out,  they might show up at a stranger's door asking if there might be a little food to spare,  but times have changed.  And those interlopers across the road look pretty healthy.

I think I'm getting off on a bit of a rant here,  so you can fill in the rest.  Or join in,  if you wish.

I suspect that's it.

Thanks for stopping by.

Here's hoping for a bit of cooler weather.

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.

Sometimes I'm just mystified.

At what people throw out.

Now,  don't get me wrong,  I don't go around on "toss out your cr*p day"  and start loading up the truck,  but once in a while,  I just can't help myself.

Like the time someone turfed out a Filter Queen, or most of one anyway,  not too far up the street from here and I took the time to stop and hoist it into the pick-up truck I had at the time.
Hence the true meaning of the term "pick-up truck" as far as I'm concerned.
Would I recommend a Filter Queen?
No.   And that's why I was happy to see one from which I could scavenge some parts.

I mean,  it's a pretty good vacuum cleaner until the filter gets clogged,  and then it's pretty average.  We still have one that we bought some thirty years ago,  but the problem is,  they haven't changed the design of their retarded base in like,  forever. 

AND,  when I enquired about replacing the busted up one that we had,  the dealer wanted FIFTY BUCKS!
I don't think so.

Anyway,  I scavenged the base off the one that was dead at the side of the road,  and tossed out the rest.

But I digress.

What I'm talking about is,  the thing that I happened to notice today,  which ended up in the trunk of the car.

I took the car,  as getting the truck turned around in the back parking lot/alleyway/whatever behind where Daughter Number Two and Hubby lives is a bit of a challenge.  I only needed a bag of tools and the gate that I had made for them that I stopped by to install.

Here,  DNT took a picture.

Because,  like a bonehead,  I forgot to take a camera.

This gate is due to the addition of a second dog,  who seems to have no issues with wandering into the kitchen and getting totally underfoot.

Not being the most speedy when it comes to these things,  this has been on my little mental list of things to do for some time now.   They've had the dog for like,  a couple years?   I forget exactly,  but that's my suspicion.

The thing too is,  their first dog knows enough that,  when told to "get out!"  of the kitchen,  he does just that.   Dog number two though?  Well?  He's deaf. 
Deaf as a post.

No really.  The whole time I was there,  he had no idea what was going on behind him.  I didn't bring any food apparently.
Oh ya.  He can smell alright.  Just not hear.  It's a long story.  Previous owners were retards.  He got some sort of ear trouble and they were too dim to get it sorted out.  He lost his hearing.  Poor little guy.  So,  he got adopted and is having a pretty good life chez Daughter Number Two and Hubby.

Anyhoo,  after I had that little job done,  I couldn't help but notice that there were a few cast off items cluttering up the parking area,  and after a very quick look,  I hoisted this thing into the car.

Um,  the fan.   Not the bench or any of those other things.  But you know that.

Oh and,  notice how there's that protective bit of Masonite (or whatever the hell it is) between the bottom of the fan and the bench?  Um, ya.  We'll be a little careful not to do a number on the bench for a wee while methinks.

See,  I've never ever bought one of these fans.  In all the years that I was with my previous oh so illustrious employer,  there would always be one or two that ended up in the garbage at the end of the year.   The kind that are on a stand were notorious for getting stepped on or knocked over,  and something or other would invariably get kinda wonky,  but unless it's been run over by a car,  99% of the time,  with a little TLC,  it can be made to work again.   There are two moving parts!  That's it.  The rotary part,  and the oscillating part.  As long as the rotary part turns,  you got a fan!

This one had obviously not been run over or anything,  so I figured I'd give it a go.

Not sure what was going through the head of the previous owner (if anything)  but they turfed it out.  Annoyingly,  they also cut off the cord.  (rolling my eyes here) 
Really??

Kind of like that Russian proverb.

“There’s a famous Russian proverb about this type of behavior. One day, a poor villager happens upon a magic talking fish that is ready to grant him a single wish. Overjoyed, the villager weighs his options: “Maybe a castle? Or even better—a thousand bars of gold? Why not a ship to sail the world?” As the villager is about to make his decision, the fish interrupts him to say that there is one important caveat: whatever the villager gets, his neighbor will receive two of the same. Without skipping a beat, the villager says, “In that case, please poke one of my eyes out.” 

― Bill Browder, Red Notice: A True Story of High Finance, Murder, and One Man's Fight for Justice

(as a side note,  that's a good read.  I highly recommend it)

So in other words,  "If I can't figure this out,  I'll just cut off the cord so nobody else can either".
Like that.
Bastards.
Enough to make you want to spit.

Having to deal with that minor issue was only an annoyance, and nothing that a squirrelled away replacement cord and some heat shrink tubing couldn't fix.  I do tend to have "stuff" hanging around,  but only so much.  Never too much.

Now I'll admit,  between figuring out how to get at the severed cord by having to do some disassembly,   along with some cleaning and a good dose of WD-40 I probably frittered away a good hour.  But it was time well wasted.  The little fan works like a charm.

I'll either use it my own damned self,  of bequeath it to whomever I think is worthy.


And like I say,  I just don't get it.

But hey,  one man's junk is another man's rotary oscillator.




Thanks for stopping by.

Keep your stick on the ice.

Dealing with Boneheads.

Not that that is anything out of the ordinary of course,  but today we've had a bit of time wasted doing just that.  I said to Travelling Companion,  "What if you were working,  and had to deal with this?" 

The answer is:  probably wouldn't.

There were a couple things.  My little "thing" was,  we had a recall a while back on the dishwasher.  For some strange reason,  the very clever engineers decided to make the electrical connection "hard wired".   Well,  the previous model had a plug,  which meant putting in a GCFI outlet in the next door cabinet and plugging the thing in.  Then,  fifteen years later,  that machine had to be replaced,  and the new Bosch wasn't like that.   Both "German" companies by the way,  but seemly Bosch USA had a different idea.  Hard wired.
Fine.   But apparently,  some customers were experiencing overheated cords,  and there was a recall.

This tells me that whoever was hooking the things up had very little clue as to what was required,  but whatever.

So,  we had the Service Dude come out,  changed over the cord etc.   Of course,  I had to redo his installation,  since he f**ked that up but,  whatever. 

One of the reasons I tend to not let trades people in the house.  I'm a bit funny that way.

Then in today's mail,  I get a "Second Recall Notice".   "Urgent!"    I'm like,  "What?"

Well,  it's from the same Boneheads.   I called them. 

And you have to understand,  I really could have just turfed the letter in the round file (well,  these days it's blue/recycling,  and rectangular)  but I thought I'd phone anyway,  just to torture myself. 

There's no direct connection of course.  You have to press a bunch of buttons before speaking with an actual person,  who then simply told me to ignore the letter. 

"So we're done,  right?"   was my only question.  And I'm guessing here,  but my suspicion is that,  the very fine folks who sent a "Service Dude" to the house didn't bother to let The Mothership know what had been done.  Wouldn't that be part of the process?   Don't they want to get paid?


On another front,  completely different,  both T.C. and I have these fancy schmancy electric toothbrushes that are supposed to do all sorts of wonderful things.

Problem is,  T.C. has been finding the odd bristle in her mouth after brushing her teeth.

No bueno.

So she spent the better part of an hour "live chatting"  with a Bonehead from another company.   No resolution to that one.   There were a bunch of minuscule part numbers given and the outcome was, "Our Safety representative will contact you within the next five business days".

They have a "Safety Representative"?   That sounds like a load of fresh air if I ever heard one.

Now,  onto Bonehead Number Three.

I'm looking to purchase a new camera.   So fine,  Daughter Number One and I went into a camera shop across town over a week ago to take a gander.   I had gone with her back in November to have a look see for a camera she was about to receive from her company in recognition of ten years service.  Nice arrangement,  I thought.  Of course,  I got a little bit of "camera envy"  (this is why I stay away from camera and stereo shops,  but whatever) and might have mentioned this particular affliction once we came back home that day.

oooo....look at all that "stuff"!


*ahem*


Where was I?



Then like magic, Travelling Companion gave me a rather generous gift card from said camera shop for Christmas.
I wasn't dropping hints.  Honest.   But...I am hard to buy for.   Or so I'm told.   Socks,  underwear,  and funky t-shirts are pretty much the norm when it comes to my "Christmas List".  And by the way,  I''m never thrilled with a "Christmas List",  but that's beside the point.
Hey,  I even asked for and received bungee cords this year.  I kid you not.

We go, we take a look.

Nothing to stop me now. Turns out,  there's a 'used' model on their website.  I'm intrigued.  The used model and their three year warranty (normally I don't drink that koolaid,  but it's used and the warranty covers a lotta stuff)  still comes in well over a hundred bucks cheaper than a new model.  But,  they have to "bring it in".

Along with that,  I'm considering a flash to go on the hot shoe of the small Canon I have,  as the flash on that camera died a sad death one day on the boat.  Long story,  let's not go there.   Something to do with water,  let's just say?

The model of flash that I want is ALSO not on the premises,  and has to be "brought in". 

Helpful young salesperson orders both items from ....wherever.   The warehouse?  Another location?   Not sure.  Don't care.

And,  I get a call last week saying the camera is there.  "Great!   And what about the flash?" 

 *silence*

 I explained that,  I'm across town,  would prefer not to make two trips.  They have another delivery this week.
OK so,  we wait. Because you know,  it'll be in today's shipment,  right?


Today,  I called.   Yup,  the camera is (still) there,   but that flash?   Well,  there's only three in the whole bloody system (this is a national chain)   and all three of them are either spoken for,  or something else that the fellow on the phone mumbled.  Apparently Canon hasn't released any yet this year. 

Da f**k?

Not sure why this wasn't explained last week when we had our last conversation.  I just figured I wouldn't make two trips,  but had I known this flash was coming on a slow boat from China,  I would have my camera by now.  Good thing I'm not going anywhere,  like on a trip or anything.

I think I'll just go for a little walk down to the grocery store.   Try not to slip on the ice.  You know,  relaxing like.

Thanks for stopping by and letting me vent.

Keep your stick on the ice.

OK. Two things.

First of all,  Thursday Night Football is starting to piss me off.  I'm not sure if they have the same crew officiating every Thursday night or whatever,  but there were some head scratching moments when even Chris Collingsworth  (one of the announcers,  for the rest of you) couldn't figure out what was up.   And I'd venture to say,  he's a pretty knowledgeable guy.  Can't say the same about myself,  but if it's pointed out to me,  then I get it.

Plus,  even though I went "five for five" a few weeks back,  with a decent payout to then justify sucking for the rest of the season,  I'm getting a bit fed up with not being able to "get" that Thursday night game.  Man!

And now,  here's the other thing:

And this may be further proof that I'm an idiot,  but I'll say it anyway.

I keep forgetting to check for "Comments awaiting moderation."   

Erp.

So,  for some of you who couldn't figure out where the heck your comment went (hello, Bea!)  I do apologise.

Sorry.   (insert sad face)


Now,  for the other 80% of you   (and no,  I'm not exaggerating here)  who filled up that field with utter crap?   Go f**k yerself!   Geez!

You know,  after the first eight to ten times that you try to clog the blog with some bullsh*t message and it doesn't show up?   Maybe you might like to reconsider your marketing strategy?

Just saying.


Now go away.


Not the rest of you!

Thanks for hanging in there.

Enjoy your weekend.  Or whatever.

Every day is Saturday around here,  except of course for that whole "shopping on the weekend" thing.   You kidding?   Not unless I'm desperate. 
Too many people shuffling in the aisles.   Many of them,   OLD ENOUGH to be doing it during the week!

OK,  back to normal breathing.

It's kind of like being a toddler.

A couple weeks ago,  I mentioned taking the train out East.
Well see,  that's the conclusion I came to.
You eat,  poop and sleep,  and anytime you try to look out the window,  you haven't a clue where you are.  AND,  getting from one car to another involves a certain amount of staggering.  No wonder they don't want you to bring your own booze.
There's no need.

And yes,  it was an "adventure".

We had done something similar during our last year in Vienna,  when we took an overnight train from Munich to Paris.  There's video footage somewhere looking out the back of the train.
Wait. I found it. Click here.
Anyway,  there was a certain amount of jostling,  and T.C. knew better this time around than wear two part P.J.s,  as she nearly lost the bottom half that first time around.
With the exception of not getting nearly enough sleep,  that was the only slight misgiving we had about taking an overnight train with a sleeper cabin.

Well,  it turns out that, either the cabins on "Deutsche Bahn"  are slightly bigger (and I think they are) or something else is up with my ability to be in a "confined space",  but at about one a.m.  I had to scramble out of my top bunk,  pull on my trousers and shirt,  grab my key,  and get the hell out of there!   Claustrophobia,  with just a soupçon of motion sickness.  Seems I wouldn't do well hot racking it in a submarine.
No sir.
Made my way to the "Wifi car",  and there was a lone employee there,  who enquired as to my well being,  after which she went and got me some ginger ale.  I did feel better after that,  but couldn't for the life of me get back on that top bunk.  T.C. and I did some sort of sardine impression for the rest of the journey.  On the way back,  I simply resolved to sleep on the floor.  Apparently I'm not yet so old and creaky that I can't do that.

Here, T.C. is enquiring about the overnight train from Montreal to Halifax.  Turns out we got to chill in the Business Lounge,  which was quite nice.

We did eat well.  The meals were included,  but the wine or beer was extra.

Somewhere along the way,  in New Brunswick I seem to recall,  there was a fifteen minute stop.  That's when all the smokers went outside.  I haven't smoked since the mid eighties,  but thought I'd go out anyway,  just to stretch my legs.

I have to be mindful that T.C. really doesn't want her picture on the blog,  so I think I can get away with this one.

Oh,  and the other observation about taking the train?  You get to see all the "underpinnings" of all the places you're going through.   That whole,  "wrong side of the tracks" thing.

Lovely.

But,  enough of that.

Had a fine visit.  Got to play with my brother's saw mill.

I tell ya,  if I had a place for one of these things,  it would be hard to resist the temptation.  Helps that he has a barn.
He needed a couple 2 x 4s to put under the firewood in his basement.  These are actual "two by fours", not whatever it is you get at your local lumber yard.

Oh,  and we did take a little jaunt over to Lunenburg.

That's the "Bluenose".  I'm not even going to "go there" with the latest rudder debacle.  Seems stupidity is rampant all over the place.  That's all I'll say.

And on another day,  we took a little jaunt over to Margaretville (or Margaretsville,  depending on which way you get there) just to have a look around.   It's usually foggy in Margaretville,  so this was pretty rare.

Not a whole helluva lot left to see in Margaretville.  There used to be a big wharf and a small wharf.  Now there's just that small one.   Irving oil also had something going on there,  but no more.    The Bay of Fundy can be tough on Wharves,  and they just get beat to pieces.

Anyhoodle,  I'd best get back at it.   Bathroom reno and all.
Mind you ,  I'm taking the time to straighten out some of the wiring I've put in over the years,  and that's a whole other story.

Maybe next time.

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


.

Chainsaw Arm.

Which is not a medical condition like, Morton’s Neuroma, by the way.  It’s the pain that comes along two days later after hanging onto a chainsaw for what was not a very long period of time at all, I thought.

Apparently it was long enough.

And of course, as it was an affliction that didn't happen until two days later,  it took me at least a couple minutes to realise just why my arm was complaining the way it was.
*thinks*.  Maybe that’s why my back was complaining too?


Nah.

Anyway,  we’re back to this. 

And the arm is fine once again,  by the way.

That whole “weed and feed” thing is a bit of a mixed blessing,  since I'm pretty sure I'm the only one around, in this neighbourhood at least, who has had to cut the grass so far this season.
I did the usual to the machine.  Changed the oil,  sharpened and rebalanced the blade, cleaned the air filter and put in a new plug.  Had one left over from the pair I bought a couple years ago.  I got two seasons out of that last plug, but this time around the electrode was worn away just ever so slightly,  so I punted it out.

Topped ‘er up with fresh fuel,  and it started on the first crack.

And I noticed that,  even though I “look after” this machine, it has started to show a few scrapes here and there.  I'm guessing it must be the concrete edging around the garden at the side of the house.  It’s not like I’ll be rushing out for some touch up paint or anything,  but I was ever so slightly taken with the amount of wear that I've inflicted on the thing so far.  It’s only three years old. 

A while back (like last year?) I might have mentioned that I bought one of those crazy assed vibrating/oscillating tools?  This particular one is called a “Sonicrafter”, made by Rockwell.

Anyway,  as there is very little kerf on the blades that this thing takes,  they do tend to burn up pretty quickly,  so I thought I’d order some from Amazon.  Heaps cheaper than the Chinese made ones available at Home Despot or their ilk.


I mean,  let’s be clear,  they’re all made in China.


They look like this.

The tool looks like this.

I was somewhat taken by the address.

Check it out.

Um. Ya. 
I got the last bit.
I guess it’s better than trying to read the characters.

The fun part is,  the package actually arrived.  Well,  these people  seemed to know what they’re doing,  and there was no “Pigeon English” involved.  Usually a good sign.

The last two things I ordered directly from China through Amazon never did arrive.   I got my money back for the one item,  but never did see the couple bucks that I paid for the second.  

They were using USPS. 

Think about that.

Note that on the address above there’s a honkin’ big “CA” up at the top?  Well,  that’s probably because these folks realise that I do in fact live in Canada.  Them other two chimps?  I don’t know what they were thinking..  “USPS”  from China isn't going to cut it.  Or at least, the lack of any parcels coming from China with such a shipping method would tend to indicate. 
I don’t know,  maybe in some other dimension,  there is some way to ship USPS from China to Canada. 

But not on this planet.

Oh,  and they wanted me to take down my negative review.  Right.  Well,  if you can figure out what flippin’ country I live in,  then by all means.

Idiots.

Funny too,  any of the “one star” ratings on Amazon (too bad there’s no “Zero stars”)  has to do with lousy shipping.  Seems it’s kind of hit and miss. 

I’ll stop now.

Enjoy your weekend.

But as I do say from time to time,  “Every day is Saturday!”
(Except I won’t be caught dead in the stores on the weekends.)

Keep yer stick on the ice.


Thanks for stopping by.