Is Anybody There?

Latest offerings from the bridge club:

Me—“I had the most wonderful cannelloni the other night”.
Sniff—“I never eat foreign food.”

Me—“I named the Sealpoint cat Harry Belafonte after the most beautiful brown skinned man I could think of, although Sidney Poitier came a close second.
An amused titter—“Oh no, Poitier is Blaaack.”


I comment I wouldn’t attend a dead friend’s visitation because the body was on display, a ritual I can’t abide.
Mutual shrug.
"I never saw her look better; didn’t she look good? So natural. I loved her dress.”

Canadian, eh?

We are forever struggling here in Canada to maintain our identity and not get enmeshed in the American culture south of us.

We like us as we are, eh?

A good example is a popular Canadian TV series called “Corner Gas”. It’s the weekly tale of the residents of the Prairie town Dog Creek and the action centers around the one gas station and small cafe next door.

The show is shot in Rouleau, Saskatchewan (population 450).

There isn’t a hell of a lot to do in Dog Creek do but they do manage to fill their days with quiet humor.

My son Mike and his family just visited the imaginary Dog Creek set to watch a segment "Corner Gas" being taped and photographed themselves in front of the major sets, the gas station and sandwich bar.


Here is a scene in progress. the actor on the right is Eric Peterson, an incredibly gifted character actor.


The two men in the center below are key players. The stocky one in black is Brent Butt, the star and one the show's creators.


Shows like this are my security blanket--may they last forever.

Now You See Him, Now You Don't.

Steve is back for a brief visit and then he takes off for, in this order, Calgary, Vancouver, Waterloo and Thailand. Now that he has the hang of travel, he is never looking back.

This is the Hamilton Airport, a secondary airport within range of the enormous Toronto Pearson Airport. You gotta love it.


This one is so small you can’t be sure they’re serious, but it seems they are.

We were delayed arriving to pick up Steve and he sat on this boulevard in front of the entrance, waiting for us.

At Pearson, it would probably take a massive search of the three enormous terminals with tracking dogs and use of the public announcement system with the bad echo to locate him.

Welcome back Steve; we know you will be roving elsewhere soon; in the meantime we will enjoy your company and make unashamed use of your amazing carpentry skills.

Not Guilty

There were five little goldfish in the pond. I got them from the pet store for thirty-six cents each and they quickly doubled in size.

Lately I'd only seen four of the little critters darting about and my guilt went into overdive.

Every once in a while I have to take the pump out of the water, clean it and slide it back to the bottom of the pond.

Then, there are the lily pads in their big baskets. Occasionally I pull them up to retie the bulbs more securely into the basket.

See where this is going? Sure, I ease the basket back to the bottom slowly but at some point I have to let it drop into place.

Did I squish one of those little fishies? Is it lying trapped under there waiting for rescue?

I'd been mulling that over for a while and then today all five surfaced at once.

I am vindicated.

Now I can move on to feeling guilty about something else.

No, you won't see them in the picture--they refused to take advantage of the photo op.

If July Could Last Forever

In these parts, the month of June is generally unsettled weather and you get the garden together when you can.

Then comes July; the worst of the scut work is done and you can relax, knowing there is at least another full month of summer ahead.

You never really notice how beautiful the wild flowers are unless you have the camera along. Then the eyes see things differently.




This is almost the last of the farmland around our north end of town and the builders keep on building.
I keep wondering--who will occupy these houses and where do they come from?



People living here can and do commute to work in Toronto while in this area there is a burgeoning high tech industry along with a couple of universities.

We still have the best of both worlds; we are still considered "country" but close enough to large cities. Judging by the bulding boom, this bucolic charm will soon end.

London

Terorist bombings become so much more personal when you've been in the affected city and taken those subways and buses.

We'd leave our hotel after eight in the morning and stroll to the nearest tube station, South Kensington to watch the tail end of the rush hour crowd before we boarded.



You'd see beautifully dressed men and women looking rushed, carelessly dressed people looking less rushed and lots of mums hurrying their kids along. The little girls wore blue and white checked pinafores and the boys wore the usual grey trousers and white shirts.

The double decker buses were as crowded as humanly possible and everyone seeemd to have a purpose as they rushed along.

No matter how hard they try those cowards will never destroy the heart of that city.

Hey Steve

My son Steve, the intrepid traveller/carpenter is on the west coast right now.

I know he will return some time because his tools are in my basement; I am banking on this.

Have you noticed Steve that west coasters grow moss on the north side of their bodies? It's a known fact.

Oh sure, there is still some magnificent forest that the loggers and politicians haven't managed to destroy yet. And everywhere you look there are beautiful mountains, some of which have not yet been strip mined.

But think of what you're missing in the east. Here is your favorite jogging trail as it looked this morning.


And here's my favorite spot, the swamp.


Well, yes, the swamp is bone dry at the moment and the geese have temporarily left for wetter accommodation, but it does have its own hardy beauty.

We miss you Steve.

Happy birthday Mike

Number five son has a birthday today.

Right this minute he and Lorrie are taking turns driving from Kitchener to Hafford, Saskatchewan where his in-laws have a farm. Hafford is an hour or so west of Saskatoon.

They have this summer trekking down to a science. At 2am the first day, they load the three comotose kids into the van and get in as much driving as they can before breakfast. In mid afternoon they stop at a pre-booked hotel and work off all that pent up energy in the pool.

Next morning, they're up before dawn and on the road again.

We had his birthday celebration before he left and gave him a car fridge for the trip. Here he is with his number one son.


I'd tell you about his adorable childhood but he will return and I'd have to face him.

Happy birthday Mike. You are a treasure.

I'm On Dry Land

I'm rapidly going into swimming pool withdrawal.

Over the years I've bought and sold a few houses with pools and I'm used to having one around. I don't swim but nobody's perfect.

There's no pool in my new back yard; just the hippo,in drydock.



When I moved to this smaller place last fall, I had in the back of my mind that somehow I could manage to get an above-ground but I finally got the hang of the word, "downsize." That means forget the pool. It's much, much cheaper not to own a pool and probably you live longer not having to worry about what will go wrong next.

Instead, I have the garden to play with and there is the fishpond with five quickly growing little sweeties. At least there should be five; these days I only see four at a time. He's probably there unless the millions of neighboring rabbits are fish-eaters.