Pretty fun day at work, like it usually is.
Bret "The Hitman" Hart was a guest on Rick Howe's hotline show today. They were giving away a copy or two of his book. Too hard to get through, so I didn't get a book, there. For all I know, he was on Andrew Krystal's show, too. AK is the type of radio host who loves and lives to hear himself talk. Never lets his guests or callers get a word in edgewise. Halfway through their point, he cuts them off and makes an inappropriate comment. Not a fan.
Anyway, Hart was on CBC radio later on this afternoon, for just a few minutes (he'd been with Rick for an hour). Stephanie Domet announced that she had three copies of his book to give away, and said the phone number (but I already have it speed dialed into my BlackBerry!). I called, got through, and learned that I was the proud winner of a signed copy of Hart's book! Pretty cool.
I picked up the book on my way to the gym for another spin class. Getting used to walking up that steep hill to Brunswick Street. From there, to the radio building, and then to the gym a short distance away.
After the spin class, I got a toy for kid involved with an angel tree program at Patricia's work. Tried to rendezvous with Patricia afterward, but she wasn't where she said she'd be, so I went to food court in he building, famished, and hoping that one of those places would still be open. It was! The chinese food place also serves authentic chinese food, so I ordered the kung pao chicken with rice and made it disappear as fast as I could. Frig, I was hungry after all that walking and cycling today!
Patricia called, wondering where I was. I told her, and she met up with me in the foodcourt, where I bought her some of the same stuff I was enjoying so much.
After that, we walked to the car and agreed that we would quickly check out a couple of stores in the hopes of snagging more toys for her angel tree kids. We went to those 2 stores, dead on our feet, but walked/staggered away with nothing. We know what we'll get, but we were too tired to stand in a line up for 30 minutes to pay for it.
Does that ever happen to you? You walk in a store with the intent of buying something, but become discouraged by the prospect of waiting in a long queue to pay for it, so you leave empty-handed. I find I do that a lot.
When I got home, I began to prepare the fixings for the chicken chili I'm gonna make for the Christmas tree decorating party at my work on Tuesday. I use probably a dozen different types of beans, not just kidney beans. Let 'em soak for a day, and then boil them for 30 minutes or so.
I've been making these chilis for several years; people ask me to make them for parties I go to. I can tell you with certainty and confidence that no two chicken chili's have been alike. They're all good, but they are all a little different. I might throw in a little more spice one time, or a little less next time. Maybe toss in some peaches and cream corn along with all the other veggies and beans and chicken.
The secret? I use boneless, skinless chicken breasts, not ground up chicken. Cut 'em up, cook 'em up (with spices I refuse to post on this blog), and introduce the cooked product to the rest of the ingredients in the chili (tomatoes, veggies, the multitude of beans, onions, etc.). Cook in my crock pot over night, and maybe even into the next day.
This year, trying something a little different. A slightly different approach. People from my work read this blog, so I won't reveal that here, either.
Absolutely exhausted from the exercise today. Will sleep like a log tonight.
Tomorrow, Operation Pantyhose. Operation Twinkletoes. Operation ... Rednose!! Yeah, that's it.
Will try to blog before I head out tomorrow night. Patricia wants to go to the farmer's market, so it may be a challenge. Will do my best. After all, all 3 of you are hanging on every word, huh?
Bev
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Twentieth Post - ORN Clarification
Actually, when I first heard about ORN on the radio in 2005, I wasn't paying full attention. I thought it was Operation Pantyhose. I thought it was all about delivering stockings to young women in Halifax who had developed a run at an inopportune time; and we, springing to attention, would rush pantyhose to these women as quickly as we dared, risking life and limb in the process.
But I was wrong.
Damnit.
Please don't tell anybody. Very embarrassing. You can imagine what I showed up with that night, when I appeared for my first shift. At least I wasn't cold, driving home afterward.
Later.
But I was wrong.
Damnit.
Please don't tell anybody. Very embarrassing. You can imagine what I showed up with that night, when I appeared for my first shift. At least I wasn't cold, driving home afterward.
Later.
Nineteenth Post - ORN
What is ORN, you ask?
It is Operation Red Nose. It is a free drive home service for people and their vehicles who have had too much to drink. That is, the people have had too much to drink; cars don't drink alcohol. This is the third year I'll have volunteered for them.
I don't really talk too much about why I do this. God knows, people think I am crazy to stay up until 5am driving drunkards home in their cars, from one extreme of Halifax to the other.
I think it's worth it. If we can help keep some drunks off the road we will do it gladly.
Why do I do this? Besides the obvious reasons, I was inspired to volunteer as a result of an incident regarding my 23 year old cousin. A brand-new mom, she was out walking with some girlfriends one evening when a drunk driver came out of nowhere and plowed into them, killing her. Her daughter ended up being adopted by her mother, so the grand parents are raising her.
There are so many options out there if you have had too much to drink. This time of year, you can call us, or take a cab to and from the event. You can be or have a designated driver. I just don't understand, on any level, drinking and driving. I cannot conceive, in my wildest imaginings, drinking to any inappropriate point and thinking I can drive safely. I couldn't, wouldn't do it. Period. So, what goes on in these people's minds when they drink and drive? That they're ok to drive? That they won't be caught? That they just don't care about their own safety, let alone someone else's?
So, I'm volunteering the next two Saturday nights. If you call us either night, you may get me answering the phone. I have a particular nickname at my work, and some of the boys may be calling us at (902) 481-7433, looking for me. we'll come pick you up, even if I do know you.
We shut down at 2:30am every night, so don't put it off for too long.
Ciao for now.
www.operationrednose.com
It is Operation Red Nose. It is a free drive home service for people and their vehicles who have had too much to drink. That is, the people have had too much to drink; cars don't drink alcohol. This is the third year I'll have volunteered for them.
I don't really talk too much about why I do this. God knows, people think I am crazy to stay up until 5am driving drunkards home in their cars, from one extreme of Halifax to the other.
I think it's worth it. If we can help keep some drunks off the road we will do it gladly.
Why do I do this? Besides the obvious reasons, I was inspired to volunteer as a result of an incident regarding my 23 year old cousin. A brand-new mom, she was out walking with some girlfriends one evening when a drunk driver came out of nowhere and plowed into them, killing her. Her daughter ended up being adopted by her mother, so the grand parents are raising her.
There are so many options out there if you have had too much to drink. This time of year, you can call us, or take a cab to and from the event. You can be or have a designated driver. I just don't understand, on any level, drinking and driving. I cannot conceive, in my wildest imaginings, drinking to any inappropriate point and thinking I can drive safely. I couldn't, wouldn't do it. Period. So, what goes on in these people's minds when they drink and drive? That they're ok to drive? That they won't be caught? That they just don't care about their own safety, let alone someone else's?
So, I'm volunteering the next two Saturday nights. If you call us either night, you may get me answering the phone. I have a particular nickname at my work, and some of the boys may be calling us at (902) 481-7433, looking for me. we'll come pick you up, even if I do know you.
We shut down at 2:30am every night, so don't put it off for too long.
Ciao for now.
www.operationrednose.com
Eighteenth Post - Farewell!
No, I am not quitting this blog. You won't be free of me that easily!
Just spoke with my other next door neighbours. They have been renting the other side of the semi for the past few years. Lovely people. They bought a place a couple of streets over from where they are now.
They got sick and tired of putting up with some of the neighbourhood kids. They are right next to a walking path. Local kids stroll by their home, swear at them, throw bottles into their back yard, and go to the playground behind our houses and drink and party and do other things they don't invite me to participate in. Rotten kids!
Just on this side of the firewall, I don't hear much of that stuff at all; and I certainly don't get harrassed by the kids. No, they just break into my home and terrorize the shit out of me. That's enough.
When we sit down with the charming young man who broke into my house this summer, next week, I'll tell him that one of the reasons my neighbours moved was because of how they were treated, and how they had cited him as being a person with whom they did not want to associate. If he has any conscious at all, he will feel like crap about it.
Of course, we are discussing a teenager here. Conscious thought is too much to hope for. Shame and embarrassment are lost on them more often than not.
Later.
Just spoke with my other next door neighbours. They have been renting the other side of the semi for the past few years. Lovely people. They bought a place a couple of streets over from where they are now.
They got sick and tired of putting up with some of the neighbourhood kids. They are right next to a walking path. Local kids stroll by their home, swear at them, throw bottles into their back yard, and go to the playground behind our houses and drink and party and do other things they don't invite me to participate in. Rotten kids!
Just on this side of the firewall, I don't hear much of that stuff at all; and I certainly don't get harrassed by the kids. No, they just break into my home and terrorize the shit out of me. That's enough.
When we sit down with the charming young man who broke into my house this summer, next week, I'll tell him that one of the reasons my neighbours moved was because of how they were treated, and how they had cited him as being a person with whom they did not want to associate. If he has any conscious at all, he will feel like crap about it.
Of course, we are discussing a teenager here. Conscious thought is too much to hope for. Shame and embarrassment are lost on them more often than not.
Later.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Seventeeth Post - Tonight's TM Meeting
Tonight's Toastmasters meeting was awesome. Even after 16 years, about 99% of the time I feel more jazzed after a meeting than I do going into one. There have been dozens of times I have dragged my sorry, tired, aching butt to a meeting, and found said butt to be remarkably cured of these afflictions after the meeting was over.
(Toastmasters. Salve for the butt. I can smell an advertising campaign.)
Our guest speaker tonight was Bruce Nunn, better known as Mr. Nova Scotia Know-It-All. He talked about some of his favourite stories about Nova Scotia's past. I am a strong history buff, particularly about local history. Bruce's stories made history compelling in a way that history teachers all too often are unable to accomplish. It is a shame that he no longer produces his columns and pieces for the radio and newspapers (at least on a regular basis), but nothing lasts forever.
AFAIK, our little TM club is the only one (maybe anywhere) that invites people from "the outside world" to come visit us and talk about what they do for a living. These meetings are the icing on the cake, the wd-40 in the works that really makes our club so special. We have been visited by labour leaders, the mayor, the chief of police, the deputy minister of the department of justice, lots of folks from the radio, and now, Bruce Nunn. We are so blessed. We are so lucky. We have the best Toastmasters club around.
Why not come visit us? Check us out on the web at:
http://www.halifaxtoastmasters.com/
Bev
(Toastmasters. Salve for the butt. I can smell an advertising campaign.)
Our guest speaker tonight was Bruce Nunn, better known as Mr. Nova Scotia Know-It-All. He talked about some of his favourite stories about Nova Scotia's past. I am a strong history buff, particularly about local history. Bruce's stories made history compelling in a way that history teachers all too often are unable to accomplish. It is a shame that he no longer produces his columns and pieces for the radio and newspapers (at least on a regular basis), but nothing lasts forever.
AFAIK, our little TM club is the only one (maybe anywhere) that invites people from "the outside world" to come visit us and talk about what they do for a living. These meetings are the icing on the cake, the wd-40 in the works that really makes our club so special. We have been visited by labour leaders, the mayor, the chief of police, the deputy minister of the department of justice, lots of folks from the radio, and now, Bruce Nunn. We are so blessed. We are so lucky. We have the best Toastmasters club around.
Why not come visit us? Check us out on the web at:
http://www.halifaxtoastmasters.com/
Bev
Sixteenth Post - Keep your Cat at Home
So, tonight, after my Toastmasters meeting, I was driving home. In the middle of the road, dead, really dead actually, was someone's cat. Beautiful white cat with black markings.
I consider myself a cat person. When I got home tonight, Newbie was in the window, starving, probably wondering where the Hell I was and why I hadn't got home sooner to feed him and clean out his litter box.
I thought about Newbie, and how much it would hurt me if he got run over and killed by some poor sod who didn't mean to do it. And I got angry with the people who let that little kitty run around outside in the first place.
I realize that accidents happen, people. I know that cats are sneaky and stealthy and can get outside when you don't want them to. But an awful lot of people let their cats out every day, thinking nothing of it. These cats roam around the neighbourhood, crapping in gardens, making a nuisance of themselves, and, yes, getting killed by motorists.
It occurs to me that the vast majority of the problems people have with cats can be cured if their humans kept their cats at home.
So, people, keep your damn cats at home. Don't tell me how your cats love to roam. Don't tell me that your cats never get into trouble. That dead cat in the middle of the road is going to be even deader tomorrow morning. That cat belonged to some twit who thought it would be fine to let it out for a little stroll.
My cat has the full run of my place. Three levels for him to run around in all day long until he collapses from exhaustion. He doesn't even want to go outside. He is perfectly content to "go" in his litter box. I spend $20 for a bag of litter. The good stuff that I would use in a pinch if I had to (maybe I have; you'll never know).
You may think you are doing your cat a favour by letting it run around to its heart content. You are instead opening your cat to so many risks that can be virtually eliminated by keeping it at home.
Poor little dead kitty.
I consider myself a cat person. When I got home tonight, Newbie was in the window, starving, probably wondering where the Hell I was and why I hadn't got home sooner to feed him and clean out his litter box.
I thought about Newbie, and how much it would hurt me if he got run over and killed by some poor sod who didn't mean to do it. And I got angry with the people who let that little kitty run around outside in the first place.
I realize that accidents happen, people. I know that cats are sneaky and stealthy and can get outside when you don't want them to. But an awful lot of people let their cats out every day, thinking nothing of it. These cats roam around the neighbourhood, crapping in gardens, making a nuisance of themselves, and, yes, getting killed by motorists.
It occurs to me that the vast majority of the problems people have with cats can be cured if their humans kept their cats at home.
So, people, keep your damn cats at home. Don't tell me how your cats love to roam. Don't tell me that your cats never get into trouble. That dead cat in the middle of the road is going to be even deader tomorrow morning. That cat belonged to some twit who thought it would be fine to let it out for a little stroll.
My cat has the full run of my place. Three levels for him to run around in all day long until he collapses from exhaustion. He doesn't even want to go outside. He is perfectly content to "go" in his litter box. I spend $20 for a bag of litter. The good stuff that I would use in a pinch if I had to (maybe I have; you'll never know).
You may think you are doing your cat a favour by letting it run around to its heart content. You are instead opening your cat to so many risks that can be virtually eliminated by keeping it at home.
Poor little dead kitty.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Fifteenth Post - Shameless Plug
I mentioned a friend quoted on a dvd I saw recently. He is the publisher of an amazing publication called Shocked and Amazed. I have every issue that's currently in print and am seeking the out of print ones through ebay and where ever I can find them.
Well, I don't have the most recent issue, #9. But I have ordered it through his website.
Here is the skinny:
----------
We let you know about the SHOCKED AND AMAZED! vol.9 tour (which was pretty amazing – even if horribly and exhaustingly hectic!) a week or two back, but, of course, there can be no tour without the thing itself, the thing you’ve waiting for with bated breath, the thing around which your love of variety revolves: Volume 9 of SHOCKED AND AMAZED! is now available!
In its grand & glorious – and new, new, new! – pages, you’ll find:
Blow-out interviews with cover boy Tim “Zamora the Torture King” Cridland, one of the most extreme performers on the planet; Manuel King, billed in his day as “The World’s Youngest Animal Trainer”; and Karen Forsythe, 10-in-1 worker in the old days and once-girlfriend of Popeye!
A major photo essay on the Bros. Grim Sideshow, one of the only old-time 10-in-1 shows, a faithful recreation of the carnival & circus sideshows from the 1930s!
Up close & friendly instructions on how to create your very own fakir act! (Just don’t try this at our house!)
A truly revealing detective tale on tracking the real Joseph Pujol aka Le Petomane, the original fartomaniac!
The tale of “Snake” King, the man who supplied nearly every carnival show in his day with the most exotic animal attractions!
Major pieces on the history of both minstrel & medicine shows!
And the latest installments from NEW editor D.B.Denhotz on the history of Hubert’s museum in NYC; Walt Hudson’s scintillating “Coney Island Baby”; and the rarest of rare pictures of 19th century variety as showcased in “The Strand”!
Hey, it’s a volume as un-PC as we could make it, and it’s all for you. And it’s already being called our best looking – and best reading – volume in the brand’s history, so why don’t your find out for yourself?
And you may see it elsewhere, but go NOWHERE else for you ultimate fix but www.shockedandamazed.com. If you get it somewhere else, well, it just ain’t YOUR best guide to the weird, the bizarre, the strange, the odd and the unusual, your SHOCKED AND AMAZED!
P.S. Blogmeisters & MySpacers & those of you with web sites: Give your friends here at SHOCKED AND AMAZED! a boost and post this info/let all your friends know about SHOCKED AND AMAZED! vol.9 for us? We know a lotta folks, be we sure don’t know everybody YOU do. Just tell ‘em to go to www.shockedandamazed.com. Let us know about how that goes, too, yes?
-------
Bev again. I am privileged to know James Taylor as a neighbour and a friend. When I was away from the cottage last year, Patricia locked herself out; and James, no doubt using skills learned from his years of editing Shocked and Amazed!, kindly entered through the kitchen window (the one replaced this weekend, alas) and let Patricia back in.
If that is not a friend, I don't know what is.
Well, I don't have the most recent issue, #9. But I have ordered it through his website.
Here is the skinny:
----------
We let you know about the SHOCKED AND AMAZED! vol.9 tour (which was pretty amazing – even if horribly and exhaustingly hectic!) a week or two back, but, of course, there can be no tour without the thing itself, the thing you’ve waiting for with bated breath, the thing around which your love of variety revolves: Volume 9 of SHOCKED AND AMAZED! is now available!
In its grand & glorious – and new, new, new! – pages, you’ll find:
Blow-out interviews with cover boy Tim “Zamora the Torture King” Cridland, one of the most extreme performers on the planet; Manuel King, billed in his day as “The World’s Youngest Animal Trainer”; and Karen Forsythe, 10-in-1 worker in the old days and once-girlfriend of Popeye!
A major photo essay on the Bros. Grim Sideshow, one of the only old-time 10-in-1 shows, a faithful recreation of the carnival & circus sideshows from the 1930s!
Up close & friendly instructions on how to create your very own fakir act! (Just don’t try this at our house!)
A truly revealing detective tale on tracking the real Joseph Pujol aka Le Petomane, the original fartomaniac!
The tale of “Snake” King, the man who supplied nearly every carnival show in his day with the most exotic animal attractions!
Major pieces on the history of both minstrel & medicine shows!
And the latest installments from NEW editor D.B.Denhotz on the history of Hubert’s museum in NYC; Walt Hudson’s scintillating “Coney Island Baby”; and the rarest of rare pictures of 19th century variety as showcased in “The Strand”!
Hey, it’s a volume as un-PC as we could make it, and it’s all for you. And it’s already being called our best looking – and best reading – volume in the brand’s history, so why don’t your find out for yourself?
And you may see it elsewhere, but go NOWHERE else for you ultimate fix but www.shockedandamazed.com. If you get it somewhere else, well, it just ain’t YOUR best guide to the weird, the bizarre, the strange, the odd and the unusual, your SHOCKED AND AMAZED!
P.S. Blogmeisters & MySpacers & those of you with web sites: Give your friends here at SHOCKED AND AMAZED! a boost and post this info/let all your friends know about SHOCKED AND AMAZED! vol.9 for us? We know a lotta folks, be we sure don’t know everybody YOU do. Just tell ‘em to go to www.shockedandamazed.com. Let us know about how that goes, too, yes?
-------
Bev again. I am privileged to know James Taylor as a neighbour and a friend. When I was away from the cottage last year, Patricia locked herself out; and James, no doubt using skills learned from his years of editing Shocked and Amazed!, kindly entered through the kitchen window (the one replaced this weekend, alas) and let Patricia back in.
If that is not a friend, I don't know what is.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Fourteenth Post - The Break-In
The thing I was fighting on Sunday won a conditional victory on Monday, today. Despite many hours of sleep, I was still tired this morning, and still had a headache. Patricia was also not feeling well from the weekend.
We were not going to miss the meeting with the young man's case worker. It was for 8:30, and we both knew it would be a brief meeting.
I had had some questions for the young man that I had asked the case worker to convey to him, and she was kind enough to do so.
The most disturbing question I had, which I had to know the answer to, was: What had he done in my house besides steal my change and my wine? Where had he gone while he was here?
Turns out that he skulked through nearly every room. He was all through this part of the house. He was in this very room where I am typing these words. He was in my laundry room. He was in my rec room. He was two levels up, standing in the threshold of my bedroom, of my bathroom, my library, and my spare bedroom. He was looking for other things to steal quickly, I guess.
I had also asked her to ask him why he had chosen to rip a piece of the door trim/frame out from the wall. She was not successful as he did not really want to answer the question. I will pose it again next week.
Next week is when we meet with the young man along with his parents and 2 facilitators. Oddly enough, I am looking forward to this discussion. I am not sure what will happen, or how it will happen. I have read about this process over the years, and now I get to participate.
I wish that what happened to me had not happened. I still feel vulnerable in my home. I still am not thrilled to see kids hanging out in front of my home. I still worry that when I am at work that something bad could happen here. I worry about a home invasion when I am at home, so I keep every door locked, every window closed, every curtain drawn.
After the meeting was over, we both decided to call in sick, as we both felt like crap. When I got home, I went right to bed, where I remained until about 3 pm. Plan to return to work on Tuesday.
We were not going to miss the meeting with the young man's case worker. It was for 8:30, and we both knew it would be a brief meeting.
I had had some questions for the young man that I had asked the case worker to convey to him, and she was kind enough to do so.
The most disturbing question I had, which I had to know the answer to, was: What had he done in my house besides steal my change and my wine? Where had he gone while he was here?
Turns out that he skulked through nearly every room. He was all through this part of the house. He was in this very room where I am typing these words. He was in my laundry room. He was in my rec room. He was two levels up, standing in the threshold of my bedroom, of my bathroom, my library, and my spare bedroom. He was looking for other things to steal quickly, I guess.
I had also asked her to ask him why he had chosen to rip a piece of the door trim/frame out from the wall. She was not successful as he did not really want to answer the question. I will pose it again next week.
Next week is when we meet with the young man along with his parents and 2 facilitators. Oddly enough, I am looking forward to this discussion. I am not sure what will happen, or how it will happen. I have read about this process over the years, and now I get to participate.
I wish that what happened to me had not happened. I still feel vulnerable in my home. I still am not thrilled to see kids hanging out in front of my home. I still worry that when I am at work that something bad could happen here. I worry about a home invasion when I am at home, so I keep every door locked, every window closed, every curtain drawn.
After the meeting was over, we both decided to call in sick, as we both felt like crap. When I got home, I went right to bed, where I remained until about 3 pm. Plan to return to work on Tuesday.
Thirteenth Post - Sunday the 25th of November
This will be a short post. According to the people who know these things, blog posts are supposed to be short anyway, so that the folks who read them can read a whole bunch in one day and still get a little bit of work done at their paying jobs.
Didn't do a whole lot on Sunday. Slept in, although my cat was insistant that I feed him around 5am. In order to be left alone, I did throw some kibble at him before returning to bed to sleep for a few more hours.
In the afternoon, I went to my fiancee's to spend a quiet afternoon. We watched a dvd of a tv show off the American History channel called Wild West Tech. One of the people they quoted on this show, and showed onscreen, is a guy we know in a totally different context: He is a neighbour of ours at the cottage. When I was at the cottage on Saturday, I started to play that show. When I saw James, I could glance out the window and see his and his wife's cottage!
I was fighting something all day yesterday, so I went to bed early on Sunday. Monday would be a busy day. We'd have a meeting with the case worker for the young man who broke into my house this summer. We'd learn some important information.
Which you will learn in the next post!
Didn't do a whole lot on Sunday. Slept in, although my cat was insistant that I feed him around 5am. In order to be left alone, I did throw some kibble at him before returning to bed to sleep for a few more hours.
In the afternoon, I went to my fiancee's to spend a quiet afternoon. We watched a dvd of a tv show off the American History channel called Wild West Tech. One of the people they quoted on this show, and showed onscreen, is a guy we know in a totally different context: He is a neighbour of ours at the cottage. When I was at the cottage on Saturday, I started to play that show. When I saw James, I could glance out the window and see his and his wife's cottage!
I was fighting something all day yesterday, so I went to bed early on Sunday. Monday would be a busy day. We'd have a meeting with the case worker for the young man who broke into my house this summer. We'd learn some important information.
Which you will learn in the next post!
Twelth Post - That's How You Install a Window!
And, how was your weekend?
A couple of posts tonight, to play catch up. After all, my adoring fans, the millions of you reading this, are all deeply interested in every facet of my life.
On Saturday morning, very early, I left the house to drive to my fiancee's cottage in another part of the province, there to assist our carpenter friend install a window on said cottage. It took us about 2.5 hours to install it. I had never installed a window before, and while I couldn't say it was fun, it was an eduational experience for me.
After he left, around 1pm, I had a late lunch and a nap at the cottage, before rising around 3:15pm and emptying out the fridge of food I could no longer recognize, or which I thought could best be used here.
I left the cottage around 5pm, and returned to the city about 2 hours later. It was a very long day! I finished the evening watching a delightful documentary on W-5 about suicide (special 2 hour edition!) before toddling off to bed for many hours.
More to come...
A couple of posts tonight, to play catch up. After all, my adoring fans, the millions of you reading this, are all deeply interested in every facet of my life.
On Saturday morning, very early, I left the house to drive to my fiancee's cottage in another part of the province, there to assist our carpenter friend install a window on said cottage. It took us about 2.5 hours to install it. I had never installed a window before, and while I couldn't say it was fun, it was an eduational experience for me.
After he left, around 1pm, I had a late lunch and a nap at the cottage, before rising around 3:15pm and emptying out the fridge of food I could no longer recognize, or which I thought could best be used here.
I left the cottage around 5pm, and returned to the city about 2 hours later. It was a very long day! I finished the evening watching a delightful documentary on W-5 about suicide (special 2 hour edition!) before toddling off to bed for many hours.
More to come...
Friday, November 23, 2007
Tenth Post - Preparing for You-Know-What!
Ten posts already! Wow! Who would have thought I would have so much to say?
Well, if you have been reading these posts (and who hasn't?), you'll see that this blog lives up to its claim as the most boring blog ever.
Spoke to the person this morning who will be doing that which needs to be done this weekend, and which will cause me to leave town for a spell, only to return in time to post yet more messages that are read by nobody.
More later.
Bev
Well, if you have been reading these posts (and who hasn't?), you'll see that this blog lives up to its claim as the most boring blog ever.
Spoke to the person this morning who will be doing that which needs to be done this weekend, and which will cause me to leave town for a spell, only to return in time to post yet more messages that are read by nobody.
More later.
Bev
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Ninth Post - Dental Work and the Wife-to-be's Birthday
Long day. Not over yet.
Worked all day. There was a silent auction at work and I put my name in on several auctions. Didn't win anything. Not even the office supplies! Not even the Paul Anka tickets. Not even the two sizes too small t-shirt. And don't get me started on the pen and pencil set. My heart is breaking!
After work, I went to the dentist. I have a strong gag reflex and look forward to going to the dentist the way an innocent man looks forward to the electric chair. They found a substance I can take orally that numbs my mouth to the point where I can't feel much of anything. I also can't talk very well under those circumstances, and I drool to boot. I figure I can just buy some adult diapers and complete the picture of early-onset senility. I think they're on sale this week at Pharmasave.
Ah, yes. Pharmasave. The drugstore for communities too small to support a Guardian Drugs.
But I digress.
After the dentist, I dashed downstairs to the bookstore where I got a copy of "The Devil Wears Prada" for Patricia's birthday. That book, coupled with gift certificates for her favourite coffee shop, would be her birthday present. Like I'd ever read that book.
I ran to the restaurant where I'd agreed to take Patricia for her birthday dinner, which was two days late. Not my friggin' fault that she was out of town on Tuesday.
The restaurant was a place where I guess we were the final people in Halifax never to have visited. The Wooden Monkey is a pretty neat place. When the Rolling Stones visited Halifax last year, Keith Richards and Mick Jagger both ate there. The only question I'd have is, did Keith know he was there?
A wonderful meal later, we waddled back to my car where we made our way to a store where I bought some new winter boots.
As I came home this evening, I could see my cat, Newbie, framed in the front window of my house. He is there most evenings when I come home. I am not sure if he is really bored and wants to see what is going on in the world around him; or if he is pissed at me for being so late getting home, delaying his evening meal and upsetting his delicate constitution. Given the way he pounces on my balls every morning as a method of waking me up, and the looks he gives me when I decide to shower before feeding him, I am beginning to suspect that I don't have a mere house cat. Instead, I have some kind of evil cat demon who demands I do his bidding. Or else.
So, I may be out of town for the weekend. Since I don't give out my last name on this blog, or my address, the many criminals reading this blog entry will be stymied, flummoxed, frustrated, foiled, rendered impotent by the knowledge that I will be away from my house, and they can't do anything about it. :-@
I'd prefer to discuss where I'm going, if I indeed go, upon my return. I'll tell you all about it when I get back.
I am gradually spreading the word of this blog to people I know. Please feel free to comment on my posts as much as you wish. Love to get feedback on my posts. While I write this stuff for myself, I do like to know that others are reading it, too.
Worked all day. There was a silent auction at work and I put my name in on several auctions. Didn't win anything. Not even the office supplies! Not even the Paul Anka tickets. Not even the two sizes too small t-shirt. And don't get me started on the pen and pencil set. My heart is breaking!
After work, I went to the dentist. I have a strong gag reflex and look forward to going to the dentist the way an innocent man looks forward to the electric chair. They found a substance I can take orally that numbs my mouth to the point where I can't feel much of anything. I also can't talk very well under those circumstances, and I drool to boot. I figure I can just buy some adult diapers and complete the picture of early-onset senility. I think they're on sale this week at Pharmasave.
Ah, yes. Pharmasave. The drugstore for communities too small to support a Guardian Drugs.
But I digress.
After the dentist, I dashed downstairs to the bookstore where I got a copy of "The Devil Wears Prada" for Patricia's birthday. That book, coupled with gift certificates for her favourite coffee shop, would be her birthday present. Like I'd ever read that book.
I ran to the restaurant where I'd agreed to take Patricia for her birthday dinner, which was two days late. Not my friggin' fault that she was out of town on Tuesday.
The restaurant was a place where I guess we were the final people in Halifax never to have visited. The Wooden Monkey is a pretty neat place. When the Rolling Stones visited Halifax last year, Keith Richards and Mick Jagger both ate there. The only question I'd have is, did Keith know he was there?
A wonderful meal later, we waddled back to my car where we made our way to a store where I bought some new winter boots.
As I came home this evening, I could see my cat, Newbie, framed in the front window of my house. He is there most evenings when I come home. I am not sure if he is really bored and wants to see what is going on in the world around him; or if he is pissed at me for being so late getting home, delaying his evening meal and upsetting his delicate constitution. Given the way he pounces on my balls every morning as a method of waking me up, and the looks he gives me when I decide to shower before feeding him, I am beginning to suspect that I don't have a mere house cat. Instead, I have some kind of evil cat demon who demands I do his bidding. Or else.
So, I may be out of town for the weekend. Since I don't give out my last name on this blog, or my address, the many criminals reading this blog entry will be stymied, flummoxed, frustrated, foiled, rendered impotent by the knowledge that I will be away from my house, and they can't do anything about it. :-@
I'd prefer to discuss where I'm going, if I indeed go, upon my return. I'll tell you all about it when I get back.
I am gradually spreading the word of this blog to people I know. Please feel free to comment on my posts as much as you wish. Love to get feedback on my posts. While I write this stuff for myself, I do like to know that others are reading it, too.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Eighth Post - Preparing for the Dentist
Dentist appointment on Thursday. I know nobody likes going to the dentist, but I actively hate it. Every time I go, I am chided for not having flossed enough, or I am not brushing vigourously enough, or often enough. Rag, rag, rag.
God, I am not a hillbilly. I am not some forest dweller emerging from the woods twice a year to visit a dentist and procure provisions before my imminent return to the verdant region. I live in the city and take what I think is reasonable care of my teeth. I do my best.
Who else hates going to the dentist? I look forward to colonoscopies more than I do seeing the tooth doc.
Tomorrow: A shameless plug.
God, I am not a hillbilly. I am not some forest dweller emerging from the woods twice a year to visit a dentist and procure provisions before my imminent return to the verdant region. I live in the city and take what I think is reasonable care of my teeth. I do my best.
Who else hates going to the dentist? I look forward to colonoscopies more than I do seeing the tooth doc.
Tomorrow: A shameless plug.
Seventh Post - Break-In Part One
So, how was your day?
You may dimly recall that I am in Toastmasters, a public speaking organization with thousands of clubs world wide. I have been doing this for a long time now.
From time to time we invite guest speakers to our club to talk about what they do for a living. We have invited the mayor, people from various radio stations in town, politicians, and others.
Tonight, we invited a friend from my previous job, who talked about conditional sentencing, or what people like to call house arrest, as well as sentence calculation with respect to both adults and "yutes", as Joe Pesci would say.
This was fascinating stuff, believe it or not. It was of particular interest to me because my house was broken into this summer by a young person. He has opted, and I have a right to participate in, restorative justice. This is a process whereby the young person and his/her support system, sits down with the victim (me, and my support system) and a facilitator or two to discuss what the young person did, and why and how he feels about it.
To the extent that I am able to, without getting in trouble with the law or whatever, I will use this blog as a forum for what I go through, and what this has been like for me so far.
The facts are laid out in the statement I swore out to the police officer who came to my home. That is the official record; any discrepancy here is due to the passage of time and my desire to put this behind me. I will try to get it right.
When I came home late one night in late August and was informed by a neighbour that a young person in the neighbourhood, whom I had known for years due to his proximity to my home, had broken into my house, I panicked. I ran into my house, fearful that my cat had been killed or something. I might find him hanging in a closet somewhere. I had been told by my neighbour that a couple jars of loose change had been stolen as well as my wine. All 3 bottles. I'm such a lush.
I tore through my house, found my cat, hugged him nearly to death, and tried to find what else had been taken. The only thing I found amiss was a piece of trim on the door frame downstairs had been ripped away and thrown on the floor. More on this stuff later.
I spoke to another neighbour, who knew nothing about it, but surmised that it had been so and so. And he was right, such is this young person's reputation around here.
You can imagine, perhaps, how I felt, going over to the young man's parents' home to talk about what had happened. I have known them for years, the whole family, and felt invaded and sick. The mother didn't want to talk to me, but the father did. His son had been seen breaking into my home, and then exiting by the same method he had used to enter. He had rolled the change(except for the pennies; even thieves don't want them now!) and drunk the wine. He'd been caught, intoxicated, by the police, who handcuffed him, took him to hq to be fingerprinted, photographed and released on his parents' recognizance.
I am not sure how much detail I can go into here. I'll just say that I have had good days and bad days since then. Days when I don't feel safe in my own home. Days when I alternate between wanting to yell at that boy for what he took from me (wine, change, and security), and wanting to ask him what he was thinking, and why he did it. And, because of this restorative justice process he is embarking upon, and in which I will participate, I will get that opportunity.
I am looking forward to it.
You may dimly recall that I am in Toastmasters, a public speaking organization with thousands of clubs world wide. I have been doing this for a long time now.
From time to time we invite guest speakers to our club to talk about what they do for a living. We have invited the mayor, people from various radio stations in town, politicians, and others.
Tonight, we invited a friend from my previous job, who talked about conditional sentencing, or what people like to call house arrest, as well as sentence calculation with respect to both adults and "yutes", as Joe Pesci would say.
This was fascinating stuff, believe it or not. It was of particular interest to me because my house was broken into this summer by a young person. He has opted, and I have a right to participate in, restorative justice. This is a process whereby the young person and his/her support system, sits down with the victim (me, and my support system) and a facilitator or two to discuss what the young person did, and why and how he feels about it.
To the extent that I am able to, without getting in trouble with the law or whatever, I will use this blog as a forum for what I go through, and what this has been like for me so far.
The facts are laid out in the statement I swore out to the police officer who came to my home. That is the official record; any discrepancy here is due to the passage of time and my desire to put this behind me. I will try to get it right.
When I came home late one night in late August and was informed by a neighbour that a young person in the neighbourhood, whom I had known for years due to his proximity to my home, had broken into my house, I panicked. I ran into my house, fearful that my cat had been killed or something. I might find him hanging in a closet somewhere. I had been told by my neighbour that a couple jars of loose change had been stolen as well as my wine. All 3 bottles. I'm such a lush.
I tore through my house, found my cat, hugged him nearly to death, and tried to find what else had been taken. The only thing I found amiss was a piece of trim on the door frame downstairs had been ripped away and thrown on the floor. More on this stuff later.
I spoke to another neighbour, who knew nothing about it, but surmised that it had been so and so. And he was right, such is this young person's reputation around here.
You can imagine, perhaps, how I felt, going over to the young man's parents' home to talk about what had happened. I have known them for years, the whole family, and felt invaded and sick. The mother didn't want to talk to me, but the father did. His son had been seen breaking into my home, and then exiting by the same method he had used to enter. He had rolled the change(except for the pennies; even thieves don't want them now!) and drunk the wine. He'd been caught, intoxicated, by the police, who handcuffed him, took him to hq to be fingerprinted, photographed and released on his parents' recognizance.
I am not sure how much detail I can go into here. I'll just say that I have had good days and bad days since then. Days when I don't feel safe in my own home. Days when I alternate between wanting to yell at that boy for what he took from me (wine, change, and security), and wanting to ask him what he was thinking, and why he did it. And, because of this restorative justice process he is embarking upon, and in which I will participate, I will get that opportunity.
I am looking forward to it.
Sixth Post - Me and My Spelling
Urkel.
I misspelled Urkel in the previous post. My apologies to Jaleel White, the fine actor who portrayed that character on "Family Matters".
Now, I can go brush my teeth and go to work.
Later
Bev
I misspelled Urkel in the previous post. My apologies to Jaleel White, the fine actor who portrayed that character on "Family Matters".
Now, I can go brush my teeth and go to work.
Later
Bev
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Fifth Post - Spin, Spin, Spin
Well, I do feel better, thanks for asking.
I did go to the gym after work. A spin class at the local fitness center. For those of you reading this (like, all 3 of you!), a spin class is a class where a bunch of people peddle their little hearts out on stationary bicycles for 30 minutes or 40 minutes or even a full hour. Tonight's little exercise in terror was 40 minutes.
The first spin class I did, about 4 years ago, nearly killed me. I couldn't walk for about 3 days. My legs would not support me, and I wobbled around everywhere until my legs recovered by about day 3. Then, I returned.
It has been a while since I have done a Saturday morning class, where you spin for an hour. 40 minutes seems to be about my limit now. But a couple of years ago, I could do 3 of those classes a week, and I felt much better over all. Pants that had been tight had to be cinched up all the way. Remember Erkel? I was a white Erkel.
I enjoy putting off going to the gym. I hate going. I hate being there. But I always, always enjoy having gone, if that makes any sense.
For one thing, after a spin class, and after I get home, I am ravenously hungry. An extra heaping helping of the casserole I made last evening, and I feel ready to take on the world. Or at least watch this week's episode of "Dexter".
"Dancing with the Stars" tonight! Can hardly wait.
Bev
I did go to the gym after work. A spin class at the local fitness center. For those of you reading this (like, all 3 of you!), a spin class is a class where a bunch of people peddle their little hearts out on stationary bicycles for 30 minutes or 40 minutes or even a full hour. Tonight's little exercise in terror was 40 minutes.
The first spin class I did, about 4 years ago, nearly killed me. I couldn't walk for about 3 days. My legs would not support me, and I wobbled around everywhere until my legs recovered by about day 3. Then, I returned.
It has been a while since I have done a Saturday morning class, where you spin for an hour. 40 minutes seems to be about my limit now. But a couple of years ago, I could do 3 of those classes a week, and I felt much better over all. Pants that had been tight had to be cinched up all the way. Remember Erkel? I was a white Erkel.
I enjoy putting off going to the gym. I hate going. I hate being there. But I always, always enjoy having gone, if that makes any sense.
For one thing, after a spin class, and after I get home, I am ravenously hungry. An extra heaping helping of the casserole I made last evening, and I feel ready to take on the world. Or at least watch this week's episode of "Dexter".
"Dancing with the Stars" tonight! Can hardly wait.
Bev
Fourth Post - I Don't Want To Go!
You guys haven't bailed me out yet!
I guess it's off to the gym.
"You'll feel better!"
Shut up.
Bev
I guess it's off to the gym.
"You'll feel better!"
Shut up.
Bev
Third Post - I Really Don't Want To Go To The Gym
I don't wanna go to the gym.
I don't wanna go to the gym.
Wrassum frassum!
If someone reading this paypal'd me 3 cents and asked me not to go to the gym, I'd accept it and offer them change.
If I go to the gym, I'd take the bus home, arriving home around 7:30. If I go home on the bus right after work, I'd be home by around 5:40. Two more hours with my cat and digital cable.
Anyone have 3 cents?
Bev
I don't wanna go to the gym.
Wrassum frassum!
If someone reading this paypal'd me 3 cents and asked me not to go to the gym, I'd accept it and offer them change.
If I go to the gym, I'd take the bus home, arriving home around 7:30. If I go home on the bus right after work, I'd be home by around 5:40. Two more hours with my cat and digital cable.
Anyone have 3 cents?
Bev
Second Post - Happy Birthday and Should I Go To The Gym?
Well, today is my fiancee's birthday. She is mumblety-mumble years old. She is out of town for the day for work, so I called her at home, singing her "Happy Birthday" in the Marilyn Monroe way. She didn't pick up, so I am guessing she'd already left. Probably thinks that I forgot her birthday. How could I forget?
We postponed our wedding earlier this year. It was to have been in October of 2007, but circumstances (mostly beyond our control) got in the way.
I took the bus this morning. I enjoy taking the bus from my place because it means not having to drive for a day, fighting traffic. As it is, when I drive, I drop Patricia off at her work, and drive several blocks south to the parking place we use, before turning around and walking north even more blocks (going past where Patricia works) to my place of work.
After work, I'll go to the gym, and then go home. I don't go to the gym nearly enough these days. Just 3 years ago, I would go an average of 3 times a week. Now, it's maybe once a week, but more like once fortnightly. I can blame all kinds of external factors, but there comes a time when a person has to step up to the plate and take responsibility for one's actions, or lack of actions. I could be going more often, and don't. Perhaps by posting my problem here, I can motivate myself to go to the gym a little more often.
I have to admit that if Patricia went to the gym more often I would, too. When she doesn't go, and I do, she either has to wait around until I'm finished, or arrange another way to get home.
But I have to work out more. Canada Post is threatening to give me my own postal code, you see, so it is a face-saving gesture if nothing else.
Say, folks, do reply to these postings. It is nice to know that there are some people reading this stuff.
Later...
Bev
We postponed our wedding earlier this year. It was to have been in October of 2007, but circumstances (mostly beyond our control) got in the way.
I took the bus this morning. I enjoy taking the bus from my place because it means not having to drive for a day, fighting traffic. As it is, when I drive, I drop Patricia off at her work, and drive several blocks south to the parking place we use, before turning around and walking north even more blocks (going past where Patricia works) to my place of work.
After work, I'll go to the gym, and then go home. I don't go to the gym nearly enough these days. Just 3 years ago, I would go an average of 3 times a week. Now, it's maybe once a week, but more like once fortnightly. I can blame all kinds of external factors, but there comes a time when a person has to step up to the plate and take responsibility for one's actions, or lack of actions. I could be going more often, and don't. Perhaps by posting my problem here, I can motivate myself to go to the gym a little more often.
I have to admit that if Patricia went to the gym more often I would, too. When she doesn't go, and I do, she either has to wait around until I'm finished, or arrange another way to get home.
But I have to work out more. Canada Post is threatening to give me my own postal code, you see, so it is a face-saving gesture if nothing else.
Say, folks, do reply to these postings. It is nice to know that there are some people reading this stuff.
Later...
Bev
Saturday, November 17, 2007
The first post
Hi, everyone.
Or, actually, who IS out there, anyway?
My name is Bev. I am a guy with what is deemed to have a woman's name, even though Beverly was a man's name for hundreds of years before women usurped it.
I live in Nova Scotia, Canada. I am in my early 40's. I am engaged to be married.
I confess up front that I seldom read blogs. I consider most of them to be boring and self-indulgent, and riddled with typos and grammatical errors.
And, yet, here I am.
If this experiment of mine works out, I'll be posting about the trifles of my life, as well as my thoughts on what is happening in society. I'll be commenting on just about anything I want to, really, and I do hope that at least a few others will enjoy reading what I write.
For quite a few years I posted to a message board run by a guy named Tony Isabella. I quit that board a few months ago. I will soon post message to this blog where I explain why I quit. It is still a little bit hurtful to me, actually, as I had thought him a friend. Anyway, I'll write about that soon.
I guess I will finish this first post by mentioning a couple of my favorite passtimes. I am heavily into Toastmasters, a public speaking organization. I recently celebrated/noted my 16th anniversary there. The only other thing I have done longer than TM is breathe, I think.
I wil post more soon. Please, share your own thoughts with me. I look forward to a lively exchange and lots of fun with youse guys!
Bev
Or, actually, who IS out there, anyway?
My name is Bev. I am a guy with what is deemed to have a woman's name, even though Beverly was a man's name for hundreds of years before women usurped it.
I live in Nova Scotia, Canada. I am in my early 40's. I am engaged to be married.
I confess up front that I seldom read blogs. I consider most of them to be boring and self-indulgent, and riddled with typos and grammatical errors.
And, yet, here I am.
If this experiment of mine works out, I'll be posting about the trifles of my life, as well as my thoughts on what is happening in society. I'll be commenting on just about anything I want to, really, and I do hope that at least a few others will enjoy reading what I write.
For quite a few years I posted to a message board run by a guy named Tony Isabella. I quit that board a few months ago. I will soon post message to this blog where I explain why I quit. It is still a little bit hurtful to me, actually, as I had thought him a friend. Anyway, I'll write about that soon.
I guess I will finish this first post by mentioning a couple of my favorite passtimes. I am heavily into Toastmasters, a public speaking organization. I recently celebrated/noted my 16th anniversary there. The only other thing I have done longer than TM is breathe, I think.
I wil post more soon. Please, share your own thoughts with me. I look forward to a lively exchange and lots of fun with youse guys!
Bev
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