Monday, January 26, 2015

Post 2873 - My Mother's Eulogy

Hi. Bevboy here, breaking radio silence.

My mother's funeral was on January 25th. I wrote and delivered the eulogy, and I am conceited enough to think that you might want to see it.

I will be off work until February 9th, so you will not see a blog post until then.

See you later. I miss you. And I look forward to resuming the blog.



Marion Kathleen Keddy

My mother was born on March 17, 1932. Yes. That’s right. My mother was born on Saint Patrick’s Day. Which is funny, because I never knew her to take a drink.

My first memory of my mother was from when I was around 4. I came bounding through the living room and toward the kitchen. My mother stood in the doorway. I didn’t see her. I ran into  her and bounced off, falling on my rear end. 

My second real memory of her was about a year later, when I was in Grade Primary at Port Williams Elementary School. This was around October of 1969. Class was interrupted for a moment. My mother walked in to class, toward me. I thought I must be in terrible trouble, or that something really bad had happened. As she approached me, she reached in to her purse and pulled out an object and thrust it in to my hand. It was a handkerchief. I had forgotten my hanky that morning. My mother was so worried that I might sneeze and be ill prepared for it, that she, a woman who did not drive, and whose husband was at work, roused the next door neighbour out of bed and cajoled him to drive her to my school. I never forgot my hanky again.

Not long after, my older brother died. I remember my mother telling me many years later that when Ernie died, that she had to make an important decision. She could spend the rest of her life dwelling on his death, to no avail; or she could acknowledge that he was gone and concentrate on her remaining 3 children, which is what she did. Some may think that to be a cold decision, but those people will have to concede that it was the right one.

The years passed. Because Dad was working so much, and I was a home body, I spent more time with my mother than my father. I saw how hard she had to work, and how expensive it was for her to keep a household going. But one thing that she made sure we had was as much reading material was possible. Where we lived made it awkward and inconvenient for us to get easily to the Port Williams Library, so we had most of our books “in house”. Every Christmas we would get as many books as our parents could afford. To set a good example for us, she would read as much as possible, often long into the evening. As recently as 2014, I made sure that she got books for Christmas. After she moved in to the Shannex retirement home in Greenwich in 2013, I negotiated with a couple of women in Halifax to give me bags and bags of magazines, which I would dutifully transport to my mother, and which she would gleefully rifle through. She read until nearly the very end. But more on that later.

I learned a lot from my mother. I can even give you an example of an incident that happened to her long before I was born, but which I have carried with me for most of my life, ever since I heard about it. When she was a little girl, her parents were stepping out for the evening. They left her in the house with bread baking in the oven. “Marion”, her mother told my mother, “If it gets too hot, just open the door.”

A few hours later, they returned home, and discovered the front door to the house wide open. It was storming outside, so the wind and the snow were whipping through the home, causing who knows what kind of damage. Her mother looked at my mother and said, “No, dear. I meant the door to the oven!”

Those of you who work with me will likely have noticed that when I am given a task, that I may ask some very fundamental questions, questions that may make you think I do not understand the task I have been given. Mostly, I do understand, but I always reflect back on the long-ago “baked bread” incident with my mother and think that if she had just asked for one little bit of clarification from her mother, that it would have avoided a lot of embarrassment. The only dumb question is the one that is not asked. Now you know!

My mother was as honest as the day is long. But she had one bad habit, and that was how she behaved in restaurants. For as long as I could remember when she was living in the house, when we would go out to eat, at the end of the meal she would regard the unused paper napkins at the table. She would look furtively to her left and right, and then to her right and left. When she was confident that nobody was watching, she would take those unused napkins and stuff them in to her purse. Once she had done so, she would give me a guilty look, as if she had done something terrible. Then, there would be a look of smug satisfaction, as if she had got away with a major crime. My mother, the kleptomaniac!

Speaking of restaurants, my mother developed a keen interest for eating out in recent years. She loved going to Cora’s. The first time I took her to the one in New Minas, she looked around the place as if entranced. From then on, every month or so, she would suggest, in her own special way, that we go there again. 

She also liked going to eating establishments like Rosie’s in Wolfville, the Timberlea Beverage Room out where I live, Michael’s on Young Street in Halifax, or just about any place that offered on the menu “nat chose”. If they had “nat chose” on the menu, she would strongly hint that she wanted, and I always made sure we had them. 

One place we visited a few times on my parents’ many trips to Halifax for medical appointments was the former Spartan restaurant on Quinpool Road. I will never forget the time we went there on my father’s birthday. While he and I fought over who would pay the bill (I won), my mother was given an extra serving of rice pudding by the old lady who owned the place. Dad and I were jealous.

I mentioned before that my mother never drove. I think I know why. One day, many years ago, when we were driving out to my father’s brother’s place on a Sunday afternoon, Dad pulled over to the side of the road and “invited” my mother to drive us the remaining short distance to Bob’s. With great reluctance, she got behind the wheel of the car and proceeded to drive us nearly off the road. Dad never asked her to drive again.

My mother was never an animal person, not until the last few years of her life. I acquired a cat in 2006, and I named him Newbie. Dad liked him from the get-go, but it took Mom a long time to warm up to him. She eventually did, but she didn’t understand the name I had applied to him. She called him “Newfie”. As long as I live, I will never forget her saying things like, “Newfie! Get off the table! Newfie! Down, boy!”

I promised to tell you about my mother’s reading habits. A few months ago, during the 2014 Deep Roots Festival in Wolfville, Patricia and I killed some time at the Box of Delights Bookshop. I was at one end of the store, while Patricia was at the other. I noticed a particular book and began to leaf through it. Meanwhile, Patricia did the same thing. We both started chuckling and looked at each other and revealed to the other what book had captured our attention. It was this one, “The Little Old Lady Who Broke All The Rules”. It is a about a senior citizen in a retirement home who, along with some friends, in an effort to combat the boredom of their existence, embarks on a life of crime by robbing banks and stealing art.

I decided to purchase this book for my mother for Christmas of 2014. It turned out to be the last book she ever read, as she picked it up Christmas night and read it in just over a week. Each night I would ask her how the book was coming along. She would say, “Oh, they just got out of jail, dear!” or, “They just escaped the country, dear!” While I am glad she finished this book, and enjoyed it, I still wonder if it was a good idea to give her the book given how much she relished stealing the napkins of the various restaurants we frequented.

Some of you know that I have had a part-time writing gig for Frank Magazine since the Fall. I purchased a subscription to Frank for my mother so that she could read my column every two weeks. Every other Wednesday, Tracy at the nursing home would deliver the latest issue to Mom, who would snatch it from her hands and immediately look for the column. The most recent issue arrived on the day she died. We discussed my column that evening, what turned out to be minutes before she passed. I found that issue among her things, along with all the other issues to which I had contributed material. I think I will keep them. 

My mother had a way of getting people to do things and making them think it was their idea. She used this trick to great effect when she wanted to go out for a meal. One time, when Patricia had taken Mom to stay at the cottage in Pictou County, the power went out. “Marion, what can I make for you for dinner?”, Patricia asked. Mom said, “Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I will just take a piece of bread and put some ketchup and margarine on it and eat that.” Patricia looked down at the floor, shook her head, and said, “Marion, get your purse. We’re going out to dinner!”

During that same trip, Patricia drove Mom to the town of Pictou, and ended driving along the waterfront. Mom rolled down the window and began to huff vigorously. Patricia pulled the car over, worried. “Are you all right, Marion?”, she asked. Mom replied that she was fine. She just wanted to breathe the sea air, as she had done since she was a little girl growing up in Baxter’s Harbour. 

After her husband died in 2010, Mom continued to live in the family home. In March of 2013, a room became available at the Shannex Retirement facility in Greenwich, which was exactly the place she wanted to go when the time came. She was offered the room, and accepted the invitation. She moved in a couple of days later. 

While at Shannex, she blossomed socially. She participated in exercise classes, bowled, did arts and crafts, and became so good at bingo that we feared that she would have to join Gambler’s Anonymous. But most importantly, she made friends with a lot of people, both clients and staff. More than a few times, people told me that she would sit in her room with the door open and wave at everyone walking by. They will miss those waves. And so will I. Every time I left her and drove off, I could see her sitting by her window, waving at me. And if I didn’t call her upon my return to the city after visiting her, she would worry until I did.

My mother was a complex person, and could rub people the wrong way. But I saw in her a fierce determination and a level of independence that stood her in great stead as she raised us, and after we moved out, and as her husband grew frail and weak. She took guff from no one, and did not overly care what a person’s station was relative to hers. She spoke her mind, and we all felt the lash of her tongue from time to time. What I would give to hear that, just one more time.

I learned a great deal from my mother over the past half century. But I must now accept that those lessons have ended. Her imparted wisdom must remain with me for the balance of my days, or those lessons would have been for naught. 

Every time I take on a task that I do not wish to assume, I will think of the time when I was little when she told me that there were lots of things in life that she didn’t want to do, but she did them anyway. 

Each time I take my lot in life for granted, I will think of the struggles that my parents experienced in raising us. 

And every time I mutter about my sore knees and ever-increasing aches and pains, I will think of how my mother suffered from diabetes, heart failure, cancer, poor circulation, near-total renal failure, and how she underwent life-threatening surgery at the age of 79; and how she took it all in stride.

My mother is gone, but she will remain with me always. 

Goodbye, Mom

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Post 2872 - Hiatus

‎Hi. I'm shutting down the blog until I return to work. I will have little time  or interest in writing much between now and then. 

It has been a terrible 24 hours. The next 12 days or so will be no better.  

The funeral will not take place until January 25 at 2pm. Why? A tale for another time.  

I've  been asked and have agreed to do the eulogy at my mother's funeral. ‎That eulogy will be published here. 

Wish me luck over the next little while. I will need it. 

See you soon. 


Sent from my BlackBerry 10 smartphone on the Bell network.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Post 2871 - A Death In The Family

My mother died earlier this evening.

After I finished the previous blog post, I called her. She had been sick with some kind of flu. She sounded disoriented, the way someone who has a high fever can sound. But she didn't have a fever. She had been given some antibiotics and some other things.

Anyway, I spoke to her. She told me that she had got the latest Frank today and had read my column. We rang off, for what turned out to be the final time. I called my older sister and told her what I just told you. She called Mom and then called me back, reporting that she had heard Mom sounding worse and that I was perhaps worrying for nothing.

I tried to call my mother a second time, and there was no pick up. Maybe she was in the washroom. Called back a few minutes later. Nothing. Called a third time. No response.

Shortly after 9pm, I got a call from a nurse or something from the nursing home, who reported that my mother was nonresponsive, and that they couldn't find a pulse. I told them to do whatever they had to do. I called my sisters, and then waited. By 9:20 or so, the nurse called back to say that she had passed.

The last couple of hours have been a flurry of phone calls to my sisters, to other relatives, and so on. I have been doing it all by rote, as if I were reciting my times tables or listing the exceptions to the "i before e except after c" rule. I haven't cried. I am not denying reality. I know that my mother is dead. Maybe I am in shock to the point where it hasn't sunk in yet. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I don't know.

In the morning, we will pack up the car, and the cat, and drive down to the Valley to begin to prepare for the funeral. We will sit around and talk about our mother, and gradually the news will hit that she is gone, and that we have to move on.

A couple of years ago, she asked me to deliver the eulogy at her funeral. I will do that. After that, maybe I will give myself permission to cry.

I just don't feel it yet.

Bye for now.


Post 2870 - Wednesday

Hello again.

Been a long day. Worked all day, and then after work went downtown to my where I have my bi-weekly Toastmasters meeting. We had a "purge party", where a few of us sat around and decided what TM detritus that had been accumulating for the last few years could be thrown out.

We threw out a lot of stuff. A lot. But there was one thing I had to keep for myself. Kinda sweet, actually. I read the minutes for the meeting on May 5 (or maybe 12), 2010. In the business arising from the minutes section, a motion was made to donate a sum of cash to the Annapolis Valley Hospice Foundation, in the name of my father, who had died days before. I had not seen those minutes because I had not been to that meeting.

We also ran across meeting minutes which our friend Holly Bartlett had attended. We saw the meeting meetings for the meeting which was her last. And, of course, we had to talk about her mysterious and untimely death, and how the various theories about how she died, just didn't make any sense.

Patricia showed up half way through and after eating something, pitched in and helped us. By 7:15 or so, we were done, and we drove home.

I have officially asked my editor the question regarding the posting of my Frank columns here on the blog. I pretty much knew what his answer would be, but I asked him anyway. As I expected, he wants the columns to remain in the magazine and behind Frank's paywall. Perfectly understandable. He does pay me for the right to publish my radio column, which is an original work that they pay to exist, and which they advertise on the website. It is only fair that they control how it is distributed.

I am certainly free to advertise here what will be in an upcoming column, to whet your appetite. That is perfectly legitimate. And if that helps sell some more issues of Frank, then that is all the better. And, one piece of good news  from him is that I am allowed to publish here the stories that my editor cuts because the column is running long or maybe he didn't think they warranted publication for whatever reason. Doesn't mean they aren't interesting stories. Just means that there is more interesting material in the column and there are only so many column inches to go around.

I know of one story that was cut for the current issue. I will publish it here on Thursday.

So, the bottom line, my lovelies, is that if you want to get radio news written by moi, then you will have to purchase Frank at the news stand, subscribe to the print edition, or subscribe to the digital edition. (I love the digital edition, by the way.) There is plenty of good material in Frank, and I recommend you check it out. And if you only read it for my column, then bless you, but read the other stuff any way. Even though paying for the magazine just to get my column is kinda neat, eh, wot?

If you want to subscribe, then go here and put in an order.

I guess that is it for this evening.

Keep smiling and I will see you tomorrow.


Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Post 2869 - Tuesday

How was your day?

I am half-watching "Schitt's Creek" on CBC. It is the mother corp's latest attempt to be hip and relevant but reminds me of a middle-aged guy who tries to be hip and relevant with younger people by dressing like Jian Ghomeshi and throwing around words like "imma" and "fo shizzle".  Which is to say that the show sucks, even though it has been renewed for season two already.  Something else to ignore on  Tuesday evenings.

I had meant to listen to Andrew Douglas on CKDU radio this evening on the way home, but by the time I tuned in the interview was over. I wonder how it went?

I want to address a question people ask me over and over. To wit: Why do I seldom include radio news on the blog any more? I thought the answer was obvious, but maybe not.  Since Frank Magazine has hired me to produce at least 800 words about radio every two weeks, for actual money, I feel that they should get exclusive access to the radio news I am able to research and report. For example, it was hours of work to produce the special report on Evanov radio for the current issue. I don't feel it is appropriate to turn around and give that news away here, because then the column in Frank would lose its value. Why would people plunk the better part of 5 bucks for an issue of Frank to get my radio column, when they could read it here for free?

I am on the fence about the little bits and pieces that get edited out of the published columns, though. For example, I did a paragraph about some interesting (to me at least) radio parings during the holidays, when most people are on vacation but stations still need to produce a morning show, so they get people from other day parts to come in and do it. It was not exactly a hard-hitting news item, but I thought it interesting enough to include it in the column I sent my editor. It didn't make it to the published version. Do I include it here? It is a question for my editor, so let me do that. I will report his answer here, yay or nay.

Otherwise, no, you will not see radio news here going forward. Buy Frank Magazine every two weeks.  Get used to it.

I guess that is it for this evening. Which works out, because it is time to watch "Marvel's Agent Carter".

See you tomorrow.


Monday, January 12, 2015

Post 2868 - Monday

I feel good tonight.

The new Frank came out today. It has a long piece written by moi about the whole meltdown at Evanov Radio. There is an absolutely damning photograph with the piece that you should all check out. Then, remember that the people at the station all had to put up with that crap.

The new issue also features an original picture of the prophet Mohammed, along with reprints of some cartoons from Charlie Hebdo. Steve Murphy is fried up because of how the twice-divorced man handled the Mike Kydd story, leaving the poor man to twist in the wind. The co-wanker of the week is a richly-deserving Glen Canning because he reported this non-story involving Mike Kydd and "the other woman". My own column occupies nearly 2 full pages, and has several photographs. There is a great deal more material.

I got some good feedback on the column from my editor. He had asked me to put more passion into my column, and I tried to accommodate that request as well as report on the sorry state of affairs at Evanov that resulted in 3 jocks leaving the station within 24 hours (if you include Floyd, who really didn't leave until January 7th).

In my opinion, which is admittedly biased, this is the best issue of Frank magazine in several months. I do hope that you traipse down to your local news agent and purchase a copy of it come Wednesday, when the print edition comes out. Or you can go to their website and get a subscription for yourself, as I got one for my mother and my two sisters.

(No. I don't get a piece of the action for subscriptions I get people to agree to buy. I wish!)

My new car battery is working great. I suppose I could have coaxed another Winter out of the old one, but it is hard to say. With recent cold snaps, it could have failed me at any inopportune moment. The money I laid out last week was well spent.

There is not much else going on this evening, so I think I will turn in early. I am fighting a cold, and should try to sleep it off.

See you tomorrow.


Sunday, January 11, 2015

Post 2867 - Sunday


Sorry about that. I didn't mean to take a few days off the blog. Friday night, we got home from work and weren't feeling well. We crashed pretty hard. I slept the night away.

I got up early Saturday morning, around 6, and drove down to the Valley for the weekend. I had some chores to take care of down there. Meanwhile, Patricia remained here and spent much of the weekend cooking and baking.

I had every intention of taking my mother shopping yesterday, but she is sick. She has a crazy bad cold, as do several other clients of her nursing home. I saw her today, and she no longer has a fever, but still feels like crap. I am guessing that she will be on the mend over the next few days.

I returned to the city this afternoon. Newbie greeted me at the door and then turned his back on me, as if he didn't want me to think he had actually missed me or even noticed I was gone. Why are cats so damned aloof, anyway? Most dogs actually appreciate their humans. If I had a dog, he'd greet me at the door the way Dino greeted Fred Flintstone after a hard day at the gravel pit. Newbie is so indifferent to me when I am around, but Patricia tells me that he practically pines for me when I am away. He will jump on top of the chair and stare out the window for hours. But as soon as I drive up, he becomes nonchalant and uncaring. Sigh.

Sunday night. I have to turn in relatively soon and commence another work week in the morning. Also tomorrow morning the new Frank magazine comes out in its digital form, with my new column. I still don't know how much of the piece will see print. The issue promises to be very full, as Andrew has promised to include some of the pictures of the prophet Mohammed that caused those so-and-so's in Paris to kill the cartoonists at Charlie Hebdo last week. They also apparently commissioned additional drawings of the prophet from local artist. As well, they have promised to fry up Steve Murphy again, mostly over an interview with Michael Kydd, the SMU lecturer who had the brief consensual tryst with a student and had to resign, while the woman continues to be unnamed. Murphy apparently all but hung the poor man out to dry. I hope that Frank points out Murphy's own multiple marriages and tiffs with other women. I hate hypocrites.

Anyway, I will find out tomorrow how much of my column makes the final print. I will tell you about it, tomorrow.

Which reminds me to sign off.

See you on the morrow, my lovelies.


Thursday, January 8, 2015

Post 2866 - Thursday

I have eaten. I am showered and shaven. All ready to sit down to watch some Netflix, which I will do after I write this post.

How was your day? I got up a few minutes early so that I could take my car to the dealership service department. My Onstar told me that I needed an oil change, so I scheduled that along with a test to see how good my car's battery was. It has been very cold here lately, and the car starts but doesn't want to. The battery was original to the car, which is now 7 years old.

I got the call from Buddy at the service department around 8:45. As I suspected, the battery was on its last legs. It is a wonder it lasted this long. No car battery I have ever seen has lasted nearly as long as the one I retired this morning. The good news, though, was that the alternator was working very well.

$320 and 3 hours later, I got my car back. They went above and beyond the call of duty. They even re-programmed the presets in the radio (well, they missed one). They set the correct time, but missed PM/AM, so it was off by 12 hours. They did not set the correct date. But once again, I didn't expect them to do any of that stuff, so it was all good.

Patricia had an appointment after work. I killed some time at the Sally Ann on Green Street. They had a couple GE radios there, but I am more discerning lately.  There is a particular model of GE clock radio that I really like. They are not hard to find, but they don't show up every day or anything, either. Those clock radios are amazing. Patricia has one at the cottage; it goes back to her high school years and still works perfectly. Excellent sound quality. Another one is in my father's old workshop. After his death, we were going through his things in the workshop and discovered that radio in a pile of wood and cardboard and wood shavings and saw dust. I cleaned it off, sprayed a bit of WD-40 in the area where you tune the stations, and plugged it in. Set the time and the alarm, tuned it to a local station, and it has worked perfectly ever since. I have several more of those radios, here and in the Valley. If I came upon a dozen of them all at once, and they all worked, I would buy them all and get rid of some of the other radios I would no longer need. Just use these ones.

I have 5 radios in this little home office of mine. One of them is that same model of  GE clock radio. Two others are later GE clock radios that are still good, but not as good as the model I am discussing.

Tomorrow is Friday. The weekend. And a storm. Which means that my tentative plans to go to the Valley this weekend are in flux. It just depends. Not risking my life and new car battery and oil change on a pilgrimage to my home town.  That's just weird stuff.

You guys have a good evening. See you tomorrow.


Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Post 2865 - Wednesday

I am home from my first Toastmasters meeting of 2015. It went really well. We had 11 members I think it was, plus a guest. It was a fun, jazzy meeting in which we debated the whole Dalhousie Dental Student controversy. It was interesting to see people who obviously felt one way, to have to defend the other.

Patricia was cooling her heels waiting for me at the Halifax Shopping Centre, so I had to leave my meeting around 7:10 and drive to her. I did, and encountered a woman at my work, in the food court. Talked to her and said I was looking for Patricia. "Check out the jewellery store. That's where you'll always find women.", she suggested. I did. Sure enough, Patricia was there. I took her over to meet Sonja, who gave me an I-told-you-look. She had never met Patricia before, but knew where she would be. A woman thing, I guess.

We drove home. I came down here to do a couple TM-related chores. Returned upstairs to watch an episode of "Two Broke Girls" with Patricia. My god, is there a worse situation comedy on the air than that piece of feces? Has there ever been a legitimate laugh on that show, any time, ever?

Earlier today, during my lunch hour, I sent off my most recent column to my editor at Frank Magazine. I have been having a hard time keeping my column down to the maximum wordage. There is just so much news most weeks. This time I have a special investigation on a situation that occurred in Halifax radio right after Christmas. There are quite a few aspects to this story that have not seen the light of day. I am just hoping that, as crazy long as this column is, that most of it makes it to print. Fingers crossed.

I almost feel I should get to work on my next column. It is due in a mere 14 days.

I guess that is it for this evening. Have a good night. Stay warm. If the bed bugs bite, just remember that they are an excellent source of protein. I mean, we are an excellent source of protein for them. I figure that turnaround is fair play.

See you tomorrow.


Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Post 2864 - Tuesday

Hi. Sorry I didn't write last night. My body kind of just shut down around 8:45 night, and I slept past my deadline.

I did spend time last night working on my column for Frank, and spent more time today during my lunch hour on it to boot. It is nearly done. Which is fine, because my deadline is Wednesday.

It has been crazy cold today. I put on a winter shirt, plus a hoodie, plus a winter coat, and I was still cold. It was so cold I actually had the heater on in the car this morning.

I am watching the first episode of "Marvel's Agent Carter". It is neat seeing how the various in jokes and so on fit in to the Marvel universe. I grew up reading Marvel comics. I do not pretend to catch all Easter eggs.

Newbie is running around here somewhere, terrorizing Patricia. Now that we are a one-cat household, he plays one of us against the other. I keep wondering what he would do if he had opposable thumbs and could prepare his own meals.

We are back to Toastmasters tomorrow, after our holiday break. I am looking forward to getting back to the routine.

That's it for tonight, folks.

See you tomorrow.


Sunday, January 4, 2015

Post 2863 - Sunday

‎Sunday night. Watching Netflix with Newbie. 

Back to work in the morning. 


Sent from my BlackBerry 10 smartphone on the Bell network.

Saturday, January 3, 2015

Post 2862 - Saturday

This will be a brief post, as in keeping with many of my recent ones.

I slept in this morning. After a quick lunch, we drove in to Bayers Lake to go to the Costco and get some things. After that, I went to the next-door Wal*Mart, where I ended up getting a new pair of Winter boots and new sneakers. I call them sneakers, and not running shoes. Sue me.

We have spent the better part of 6 hours this evening watching a show on Netflix called Happy Valley. It is a British crime drama, and I can't get over how much better most British crime dramas are than their American counterparts. They're far grittier. They are speaking in a working class British accent, so there are plenty of times when I have no idea what in god's name they are saying, but Patricia has been watching "Coronation Street" for 20 years and has no problem. Go figure.

I didn't spend any time today working on my next Frank column. I will do an edit on it in the morning and likely a re-write in the afternoon.

We are supposed to get nailed by a Winter storm on Sunday. We have been told that before. I am a little skeptical.

You guys have a good night. See you tomorrow.


Friday, January 2, 2015

Post 2861 - Friday


I hope you have had a nice couple of days. I have. I have done little, though, barely leaving the house. I have watched a few Seth Rogen movies. We just finished watching "Midnight in Paris" on Netflix, which is a minor classic directed by Woody Allen, long after most of his best work was behind him.

We took the tree down this afternoon. It went out this evening and is resting comfortably on the front deck until recycling day on Tuesday. During this process, I found a neglected Christmas present, which is some peppermint-laced white cream candies from Hickory Farm. Patricia bought them for me and forgot about them.

I forgot to mention something last week, so I will belatedly mention it now. This past Christmas marked 40 years since I got my first radio. I got a radio for a Christmas present when I was 10 years old, which was December 25, 1974. It was a Wednesday. 40 years later, my interest in the medium remains strong, and it has started to earn me some money, due to my part-time job.

I have written a rough, rough draft of my next Frank column. It will either be my best column, or my worst. Time will tell.

Tomorrow we will head in to town to get some victuals and maybe some munchies before returning here and watching another movie or 9. Good times. Good times.

See you tomorrow.


Thursday, January 1, 2015

Post 2860 - Happy New Year

‎Done almost nothing today. As you can see Newbie has been taking it easy as well. 

More tomorrow . 


Sent from my BlackBerry 10 smartphone on the Bell network.