Tuesday, July 15, 2008

325th Post - Special Non-Special 325th Post!

I usually try to do something special for the posts evenly divisible by 25. #200 was the interview with Deb Smith. #275 was the interview with J.C. Douglas. #250 was all about the CJCH transition to... that new station. #150 was the alphabet game, a particular favourite, and one that was particularly hard to write. #225... still hasn't been written yet. I'll get to it, when I am sufficiently inspired.

Had I been on the ball, this would have been an interview post with D.S. or maybe J.C. (not J.C. Douglas), or even J.T. But J.T. won't be coming to Canada this summer and visiting us at the cottage. And I haven't had a chance to finish composing the questions for D.S. or J.C. yet. They're on my desk at work.

So... What do we talk about tonight?

How about a couple of things? A hodge podge post?

1. Caught the news tonight. A cat got up a power pole and was stuck for 4 days before a Nova Scotia power employee enticed the cat down. Then, when the cat was one the ground, it ran off into the woods.

All of these problems would be solved if people kept their friggin' cats at home. I have written about this before. I am so tired of seeing dead kitties on the side of the road. Tired of seeing them crap in people's gardens. Tired of seeing them where they should not be. Tired of seeing Halifax Regional Council argue the merits of a cat bylaw. Keep your darn cats at home, people!

2. Well, Tim Hortons disappointed me today. At 3pm I ventured out to the Tims on Barrington Street at Sackville. I ponied up to the bar and was prepared to order my usual when I saw the sign that they were only accepting cash today. Cash! That's very similar to money. And I don't usually have much of that 2 days before I get paid. I do have funds on my Tim Hortons card, though, but could not use it there this pm. I did go to the one at the entrance to Bayers Lake on the way home tonight, though. Do not weep for me.

3. Walked along the waterfront during lunch. Saw Michael Baker, the provincial finance minister, out strolling with someone. He does not look well. I know he has cancer. I suppose I owe him a bit of a debt because he allowed my Toastmasters club to meet at the Department of Justice on Terminal Road back when I was an employee for that fine, upstanding department. If he reads this, and I doubt that he will, thank you, Mr. Baker. You gave us a place to meet when we would have been homeless otherwise.

I have to admire people who have cancer and who fight it tooth and nail for as long as they possibly can. I have not discussed this on the blog before but will now: I had a brother who died of cancer when I was not even six years old. I have long wondered, all these years later, what it would have been like to have had a big brother when I was growing up, or what it would be like to have one now to impart brotherly advice or to kick my ass when I screwed up in some manner. Instead of finding out about girls from my sisters and mother and father when he was home and not exhausted from having worked all day and into the evening, I might have found out about the mysteries of women from my brother. Or, more likely, we would have puzzled them out together before giving up and crushing beer cans into our foreheads.

My brother lost a leg to the disease, and then his life, not even making it to the age of 17. I was so young that the concept of his death was lost on me. I just couldn't understand it. I am not sure how many kids that age can grasp that concept. After his funeral, when we had show and tell one day in my grade primary class, I stood up and talked about his having died, with all of the youthful immaturity I could muster (trying not to be that way, of course), while my teacher looked on in shock.

I do not wish to turn this blog into a mawkish, maudlin, oh-woe-is-me corner of the blogosphere. I have always intended it to be a place where I can discuss what I want, when I want, how I want, trying to do it humourously or at least with some sense of fun and frivolity. It is up to you to decide whether I have succeeded. I will just state that I continue to miss my brother and wish that he had had the chance to enjoy some of the things I have had a chance to experience. I wish we could have gone through life together. But cancer wouldn't let that happen.

My best to Michael Baker and his family.

4. On a happier note, I am pleased to report that my cat Newbie was sitting on my lap during most of the composition of this blog post. I think he may have realized that he can only tweak the bull (me) so many times before I snort, grunt and do something that we both might regret later. He is now at my feet as I type these few last words.

Time to dig out some comics for the lady at work whose boyfriend really, really likes the Shadow. The weed of crime bears bitter fruit, people!


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