And listen to the latest edition of the Nighttime Podcast, hosted by my friend Jordan Bonaparte.
For the fourth time, he has had me on as a guest co-host, this time discussing the 1985 murder of Tina Marie Barron.
Here is the link.
Let me know what you think of it.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Monday, July 30, 2018
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Post 3755 - Sunday Night Recovering
Hello again, my friends.
No trip to the cottage for us this weekend. We remained in the city on Friday, sweltering in the heat, marinating in the sweat that oozed out of our pores. Good times, indeed.
Saturday, Patricia got up early and hopped on Facebook and learned that Tap Root farms in Port Williams was letting folks pick garlic for $7.50 a pound. We like garlic, a bit too much, so we jumped in the Soul and drove down there. We arrived just before noon and Patricia grabbed the pitchfork we had brought and went to work.
I have to admit that I didn't know where garlic came from. I had no idea it was a root, uh, vegetable. After digging up the garlic, you then have to "cure" it, which involves cutting a few inches above the bulb and letting the stock dry until it is like paper. It means that the garlic is then ready to be consumed. But we didn't know what we were doing, so some of the cloves were, uh, cleaved by the pitchfork. Those cloves were cut up and used in tonight's chicken stir fry, and it was incredible, using such ultra fresh garlic.
We dug up just short of 10 pounds of garlic, which seems like a lot, but doesn't look like a lot. Another couple there yesterday were harvesting far more than we were. We figured they have a garlic fetish or they have a restaurant that makes tremendous use of garlic, or they have a problem with vampires.
After checking out the house, and a quick nap, we decided to go to the Sterling's in Greenwich. I ran into a couple of people I knew, including Paulette, who was my sort of boss at the library at Acadia in the 1980's. We also decided to grab some dinner at the Evangeline Inn and Cafe in Grand Pre.
I had not been there since... well, the Summer of 1985 I guess it was, when Paulette and her boss George took me and Mary Dowe there for lunch at the end of us working there for another Summer. Seemed kismet to run into Paulette there, and all signs pointed to a good meal. A friend of Patricia's had eaten there recently and had raved about the place.
What a let down.
We ordered nachos, which cost $16. For that much, we expected nachos to be pretty damned good, but they were competent at best. Insufficient cheese. Too much onion. Not enough tomatoes. Not a large serving.
Patricia ordered a chicken breast burger, which she reported was bland. The lettuce was limp. Some mayo. Maybe a bit of tomato. I ordered the chicken quesadillas, which clearly had come from a freezer and been reheated. The filling was bland and listless. A bit of chicken here and there to justify the name of the item. I was not impressed.
We decided to skip the dessert. We had been disappointed too much already and wanted the much-vaunted pie to remain a mystery. After reading the Robert Borden monument a few meters away, we got in the car and returned home. Patricia, who paid for the meal, was not happy about the food, or the service, and was vocal in expressing her disappointment. We will not return.
Some restaurants are around forever. Sometimes, you have to wonder why. They coast by on their reputation. People go and if they are lucky get a competent meal and eventually forget about the experience and go back again. I am thinking one of those places is the Evangeline Inn and Cafe in Grand Pre. Another one, in my opinion, is the Chicken Burger in Bedford, by the way.
We got a few groceries at the Superstore in Windsor and returned to the city. I took a nap and was pretty much down for the rest of the night.
Today, once again the humidity got to us. We didn't do much. I cooked some chicken that Patricia used in the afore-mentioned stir fry. Watched some tv. And that was our weekend.
How was yours?
Back to reality tomorrow. Weekends go by, far too quickly.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
No trip to the cottage for us this weekend. We remained in the city on Friday, sweltering in the heat, marinating in the sweat that oozed out of our pores. Good times, indeed.
Saturday, Patricia got up early and hopped on Facebook and learned that Tap Root farms in Port Williams was letting folks pick garlic for $7.50 a pound. We like garlic, a bit too much, so we jumped in the Soul and drove down there. We arrived just before noon and Patricia grabbed the pitchfork we had brought and went to work.
I have to admit that I didn't know where garlic came from. I had no idea it was a root, uh, vegetable. After digging up the garlic, you then have to "cure" it, which involves cutting a few inches above the bulb and letting the stock dry until it is like paper. It means that the garlic is then ready to be consumed. But we didn't know what we were doing, so some of the cloves were, uh, cleaved by the pitchfork. Those cloves were cut up and used in tonight's chicken stir fry, and it was incredible, using such ultra fresh garlic.
We dug up just short of 10 pounds of garlic, which seems like a lot, but doesn't look like a lot. Another couple there yesterday were harvesting far more than we were. We figured they have a garlic fetish or they have a restaurant that makes tremendous use of garlic, or they have a problem with vampires.
After checking out the house, and a quick nap, we decided to go to the Sterling's in Greenwich. I ran into a couple of people I knew, including Paulette, who was my sort of boss at the library at Acadia in the 1980's. We also decided to grab some dinner at the Evangeline Inn and Cafe in Grand Pre.
I had not been there since... well, the Summer of 1985 I guess it was, when Paulette and her boss George took me and Mary Dowe there for lunch at the end of us working there for another Summer. Seemed kismet to run into Paulette there, and all signs pointed to a good meal. A friend of Patricia's had eaten there recently and had raved about the place.
What a let down.
We ordered nachos, which cost $16. For that much, we expected nachos to be pretty damned good, but they were competent at best. Insufficient cheese. Too much onion. Not enough tomatoes. Not a large serving.
Patricia ordered a chicken breast burger, which she reported was bland. The lettuce was limp. Some mayo. Maybe a bit of tomato. I ordered the chicken quesadillas, which clearly had come from a freezer and been reheated. The filling was bland and listless. A bit of chicken here and there to justify the name of the item. I was not impressed.
We decided to skip the dessert. We had been disappointed too much already and wanted the much-vaunted pie to remain a mystery. After reading the Robert Borden monument a few meters away, we got in the car and returned home. Patricia, who paid for the meal, was not happy about the food, or the service, and was vocal in expressing her disappointment. We will not return.
Some restaurants are around forever. Sometimes, you have to wonder why. They coast by on their reputation. People go and if they are lucky get a competent meal and eventually forget about the experience and go back again. I am thinking one of those places is the Evangeline Inn and Cafe in Grand Pre. Another one, in my opinion, is the Chicken Burger in Bedford, by the way.
We got a few groceries at the Superstore in Windsor and returned to the city. I took a nap and was pretty much down for the rest of the night.
Today, once again the humidity got to us. We didn't do much. I cooked some chicken that Patricia used in the afore-mentioned stir fry. Watched some tv. And that was our weekend.
How was yours?
Back to reality tomorrow. Weekends go by, far too quickly.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Thursday, July 26, 2018
Post 3754 - Thursday Night Ramblings
Hello again, my lovelies.
I am off on Friday, so it is a three day weekend. Not to be outdone, next weekend is a three day weekend, too, what with the civic holiday then, you know.
We got home from work tonight and I decided to close my eyes "for a few minutes". Next thing I knew, it was 8pm. Patricia was asleep upstairs. I made us something to eat. I paid the young man who mows the lawn for me. And I watched a documentary about the Twelve Tribes religious cult, the same scary religious people who may have spirited away Lyndon Fuller back in 1988 from Berwick, Nova Scotia. People still talk about him, and them, down there.
That was my evening. How was yours?
Tomorrow mornin', we head off to the cottage, unless something more interesting happens here ahead of that. I doubt it. The cottage it is.
You guys have a good evening. I will bark at you soon.
Bevboy
I am off on Friday, so it is a three day weekend. Not to be outdone, next weekend is a three day weekend, too, what with the civic holiday then, you know.
We got home from work tonight and I decided to close my eyes "for a few minutes". Next thing I knew, it was 8pm. Patricia was asleep upstairs. I made us something to eat. I paid the young man who mows the lawn for me. And I watched a documentary about the Twelve Tribes religious cult, the same scary religious people who may have spirited away Lyndon Fuller back in 1988 from Berwick, Nova Scotia. People still talk about him, and them, down there.
That was my evening. How was yours?
Tomorrow mornin', we head off to the cottage, unless something more interesting happens here ahead of that. I doubt it. The cottage it is.
You guys have a good evening. I will bark at you soon.
Bevboy
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
Post 3753 - Two Days Later
Hi.
I didn't write last night because my body shut down around 6pm. I was down for the evening. I woke up here and there to see if I was still alive, but there was no way I had the gumption to do much of anything. The humidity was kicking me hard.
Today wasn't much better in these here parts. Barely able to breathe at times, the humidity in this province has made it impossible for me to stay outdoors for long periods of time. I mostly stayed indoors, or in the car with the air conditioning blaring full blast.
After work, Patricia had Pilates class. I killed some time at the Salvation Army store on Strawberry Hill and then drove to the street around the corner from her class and was happy enough to get a parking space. I walked to a nearby pizza place, ate a slice, and returned to the car, where I waited until the class was over. We drove home and I showered and came downstairs.
I have spent some time this evening writing about my friend Holly Bartlett, who was killed in 2010. There is an award being given out in her memory, and I was asked to write a short post about her. I produced a draft and will read it over and send it along during my lunch hour tomorrow.
Tomorrow is my Friday. A three day weekend beckons. Can hardly wait.
Guess I will turn in.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
I didn't write last night because my body shut down around 6pm. I was down for the evening. I woke up here and there to see if I was still alive, but there was no way I had the gumption to do much of anything. The humidity was kicking me hard.
Today wasn't much better in these here parts. Barely able to breathe at times, the humidity in this province has made it impossible for me to stay outdoors for long periods of time. I mostly stayed indoors, or in the car with the air conditioning blaring full blast.
After work, Patricia had Pilates class. I killed some time at the Salvation Army store on Strawberry Hill and then drove to the street around the corner from her class and was happy enough to get a parking space. I walked to a nearby pizza place, ate a slice, and returned to the car, where I waited until the class was over. We drove home and I showered and came downstairs.
I have spent some time this evening writing about my friend Holly Bartlett, who was killed in 2010. There is an award being given out in her memory, and I was asked to write a short post about her. I produced a draft and will read it over and send it along during my lunch hour tomorrow.
Tomorrow is my Friday. A three day weekend beckons. Can hardly wait.
Guess I will turn in.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Monday, July 23, 2018
Post 3752 - Too. Humid!
My body is sweating in places I did not know existed. I am a little embarrassed about, actually.
How about we call it a night? We all think of something cool to do. Something literally cool to do? Like jumping in a lake of ice cubes or swimming through ice cream or rolling around in the snow?
Snow... yes. Snow!
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
How about we call it a night? We all think of something cool to do. Something literally cool to do? Like jumping in a lake of ice cubes or swimming through ice cream or rolling around in the snow?
Snow... yes. Snow!
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Sunday, July 22, 2018
Post 3751 - Sunday Night
Hello there, you ruggedly handsome person, you.
Another weekend is behind me. Where do those cursed things go, anyway?
Saturday morning, we got up relatively early and headed out to the Valley for the day. Patricia wanted to attend a craft thingy in Berwick. We decided to postpone it. Patricia watched some stuff on Plex while I did some other work. I got a pizza for us at a place in Kentville that was... well, it was all right, I guess. Got some other food.
We also checked out, earlier in the day, the SPCA thrift store in New Minas. Weren't really sure where it was, but based upon some instructions found it with no problem yesterday. Lots of books, and they were even cheaper. And even cheaper than the even cheaper because they have a "stuff a bag" program, where you stuff a Sobeys bag full of books for one dollar. The girl charged me that much for eight books because she figured that is how many I could have stuffed in a bag had I had one.
I look forward to returning there, and soon.
We stayed in last night. I made French toast for breakfast this morning before we did the dishes and closed the house up again, prior to our trip to Berwick. The craft thingy was in full swing. I was bored within nine seconds, so I wandered around to a hallway showing "bricks" that people had donated to help pay for the construction of the new fire hall. I noticed this one.
Yes, this is the Lyndon Fuller who disappeared nearly a full 30 years ago, from the hospital in Berwick. Jumped out of a third story hospital window and ran off into the night and hasn't been seen since.
I have my doubts about that whole narrative. Not one shred of proof, but enough things don't add up that make me think certain things about what happened just are not true. I look forward to the day when I can write a follow-up article about his disappearance.
I wrote a four page article about Lyndon and his disappearance in Frank in 2016. That issue sold very well in the Valley, as you might imagine. His disappearance is still a matter of some discussion down there. One of the more famous missing persons cases in the country, actually.
We got back to the city mid-afternoon. We were both tired so we took a long nap. After ignoring us for a spell, Newbie warmed up to me and curled up on my lap while I slept.
Tonight, I shaved and showered and shampooed and am not ready to return to work in the morning. Can hardly wait.
See you tomorrow, my lovelies.
Bevboy
Another weekend is behind me. Where do those cursed things go, anyway?
Saturday morning, we got up relatively early and headed out to the Valley for the day. Patricia wanted to attend a craft thingy in Berwick. We decided to postpone it. Patricia watched some stuff on Plex while I did some other work. I got a pizza for us at a place in Kentville that was... well, it was all right, I guess. Got some other food.
We also checked out, earlier in the day, the SPCA thrift store in New Minas. Weren't really sure where it was, but based upon some instructions found it with no problem yesterday. Lots of books, and they were even cheaper. And even cheaper than the even cheaper because they have a "stuff a bag" program, where you stuff a Sobeys bag full of books for one dollar. The girl charged me that much for eight books because she figured that is how many I could have stuffed in a bag had I had one.
I look forward to returning there, and soon.
We stayed in last night. I made French toast for breakfast this morning before we did the dishes and closed the house up again, prior to our trip to Berwick. The craft thingy was in full swing. I was bored within nine seconds, so I wandered around to a hallway showing "bricks" that people had donated to help pay for the construction of the new fire hall. I noticed this one.
Yes, this is the Lyndon Fuller who disappeared nearly a full 30 years ago, from the hospital in Berwick. Jumped out of a third story hospital window and ran off into the night and hasn't been seen since.
I have my doubts about that whole narrative. Not one shred of proof, but enough things don't add up that make me think certain things about what happened just are not true. I look forward to the day when I can write a follow-up article about his disappearance.
I wrote a four page article about Lyndon and his disappearance in Frank in 2016. That issue sold very well in the Valley, as you might imagine. His disappearance is still a matter of some discussion down there. One of the more famous missing persons cases in the country, actually.
We got back to the city mid-afternoon. We were both tired so we took a long nap. After ignoring us for a spell, Newbie warmed up to me and curled up on my lap while I slept.
Tonight, I shaved and showered and shampooed and am not ready to return to work in the morning. Can hardly wait.
See you tomorrow, my lovelies.
Bevboy
Friday, July 20, 2018
Post 3750 - Mea Culpa!
Wow. Three days since my last blog post. How did you ever survive without me?
Wednesday I worked on my next Frank article until quite late. Thursday night, I pretty much slept the night away.
Such is my life these days. Work and sleep. No wonder my pvr is full.
So, Friday night. Another weekend yawns before me. I have some plans, which I will tell you all about once they're over. I do this not to be mean, but to protect myself from the ridicule you will lob at me if I end up not doing the things I say I will do. There is a method to my madness.
Got a new kind of litter for Newbie today. I hope he likes it. If not, I fear there will be hell to pay. I wish, when he was a kitten, I had trained him to use the toilet. I'm told that it can be done if you have Job-like patience. Certainly would have saved me a lot of money over the years, but how would have wiped his little tushie after he was done? I have wondered about that for years now.
I think I will turn in. Lots on the go on the morrow.
See you then.
Bevboy
Wednesday I worked on my next Frank article until quite late. Thursday night, I pretty much slept the night away.
Such is my life these days. Work and sleep. No wonder my pvr is full.
So, Friday night. Another weekend yawns before me. I have some plans, which I will tell you all about once they're over. I do this not to be mean, but to protect myself from the ridicule you will lob at me if I end up not doing the things I say I will do. There is a method to my madness.
Got a new kind of litter for Newbie today. I hope he likes it. If not, I fear there will be hell to pay. I wish, when he was a kitten, I had trained him to use the toilet. I'm told that it can be done if you have Job-like patience. Certainly would have saved me a lot of money over the years, but how would have wiped his little tushie after he was done? I have wondered about that for years now.
I think I will turn in. Lots on the go on the morrow.
See you then.
Bevboy
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
Post 3749 - Two Days Later...
Sorry I didn't write last night. It was crazy hot, the kind of hot that makes you think about jumping into a frozen pond and hoping for the best. It was all I could do to make it to bed and sleep.
Today I started a three day course at work. This evening Patricia and I went out to dinner before attending the Dan McKinnon concert at the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic. McKinnon used to play every Saturday at the "old" Halifax Farmer's Market. There are so damned many farmer's markets in Halifax now that I feel I need to be more specific, so here you go. The "new" Farmer's Market is at Seaport and is large and sprawling and we very seldom go because how many cucumber vendors do you really need? It replaced the former Farmer's Market, which was for decades at the Brewery Market on Hollis Street, although the main entrance has changed several times. Many of the vendors at that market balked at moving to the new market, and thus the "Historic Farmer's Market" was born. At some point, the name settled to The Halifax Brewery Market, and you can check out their website if you want to.
Where was I?
Oh, yeah.
Dan McKinnon.
Back in the 1990's, and I guess in to the early 00's, McKinnon would play at this farmer's market, his baritone voice going over the throngs of people. He was in a perfect little nook; but the market grew and grew and the space behind him was required for more vendors. That little nook became a thoroughfare for folks who wanted to check out those vendors. McKinnon's performances were interrupted more and more, and he got fed up and quit that gig.
He'd play other venues, but I have never seen him have a regular weekly gig since. He tours a lot, and is about to play the U.K. for the 22nd time. If we hadn't seen him tonight, we would have missed him likely for the last time in 2018.
So, despite an impending Frank deadline, we saw him. It was an divine show, as his show always are.
We got home. I showered. And I haven't done a speck of work all night. It means I must work that much harder Wednesday night to make my deadline.
But it was worth it.
It is late. I really should turn in so I can be fresh for day two of that course.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Today I started a three day course at work. This evening Patricia and I went out to dinner before attending the Dan McKinnon concert at the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic. McKinnon used to play every Saturday at the "old" Halifax Farmer's Market. There are so damned many farmer's markets in Halifax now that I feel I need to be more specific, so here you go. The "new" Farmer's Market is at Seaport and is large and sprawling and we very seldom go because how many cucumber vendors do you really need? It replaced the former Farmer's Market, which was for decades at the Brewery Market on Hollis Street, although the main entrance has changed several times. Many of the vendors at that market balked at moving to the new market, and thus the "Historic Farmer's Market" was born. At some point, the name settled to The Halifax Brewery Market, and you can check out their website if you want to.
Where was I?
Oh, yeah.
Dan McKinnon.
Back in the 1990's, and I guess in to the early 00's, McKinnon would play at this farmer's market, his baritone voice going over the throngs of people. He was in a perfect little nook; but the market grew and grew and the space behind him was required for more vendors. That little nook became a thoroughfare for folks who wanted to check out those vendors. McKinnon's performances were interrupted more and more, and he got fed up and quit that gig.
He'd play other venues, but I have never seen him have a regular weekly gig since. He tours a lot, and is about to play the U.K. for the 22nd time. If we hadn't seen him tonight, we would have missed him likely for the last time in 2018.
So, despite an impending Frank deadline, we saw him. It was an divine show, as his show always are.
We got home. I showered. And I haven't done a speck of work all night. It means I must work that much harder Wednesday night to make my deadline.
But it was worth it.
It is late. I really should turn in so I can be fresh for day two of that course.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Sunday, July 15, 2018
Post 3748 - Another Weekend Down the Tubes
Hello, my friends. All 4.7 of you.
We had great plans to do a lot today. We did manage to wash the dishes, and do quite a bit of laundry. Patricia cleaned out the fridge and found some things that are now science experiments and resting comfortably in the green bin outside. A waste of perfectly-good food that we both forgot about. We curse ourselves for it, every time, and then take advantage of sales to buy yet more things we forget about. Shame on us.
The weekend is over and it is back to work in the morning. After sleeping in for a couple of days it is very difficult to get up at 5:30 or so to face another day at the office. It gets more difficult with age, not easier.
Oh, I finished reading "Dead Skip" last week. You know, that crime novel by Joe Gores. I quite liked it. Nice ending. Good humour. And the entire story was only about 180 pages. I'm about to start "Shadow of a Broken Man" by George C. Chesbro. Chesbro is an author I have not sampled but have heard great things about. I will let you know what I think of the novel as I work my way through it.
Guess I will turn in. Sunday night, you know.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
We had great plans to do a lot today. We did manage to wash the dishes, and do quite a bit of laundry. Patricia cleaned out the fridge and found some things that are now science experiments and resting comfortably in the green bin outside. A waste of perfectly-good food that we both forgot about. We curse ourselves for it, every time, and then take advantage of sales to buy yet more things we forget about. Shame on us.
The weekend is over and it is back to work in the morning. After sleeping in for a couple of days it is very difficult to get up at 5:30 or so to face another day at the office. It gets more difficult with age, not easier.
Oh, I finished reading "Dead Skip" last week. You know, that crime novel by Joe Gores. I quite liked it. Nice ending. Good humour. And the entire story was only about 180 pages. I'm about to start "Shadow of a Broken Man" by George C. Chesbro. Chesbro is an author I have not sampled but have heard great things about. I will let you know what I think of the novel as I work my way through it.
Guess I will turn in. Sunday night, you know.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Saturday, July 14, 2018
Post 3747 - Two Days Later
Early Sunday morning, if you must know.
So, before I went to work on Friday I found a couple bags of the IAMS cat food that Newbie likes, at the Windsor Street Sobeys. In return, Friday evening, Newbie made momentary eye contact with me, acknowledging me.
Friday night, both Patricia and I went to bed pretty much as soon as we got home. Not sure what hit us, other than exhaustion.
Saturday morning, we eventually got up. We drove to the Valley for a day trip. I had to pay the man who mows the lawn down there. We ran some other errands and returned late this evening. Newbie was waiting for us, tapping his right front paw on the floor and looking at his little watch, the one he saved up for by capturing mice in the neighborhood a couple of years ago. He is enterprising. Give him that much.
We have spent the last few hours decompressing from our Valley adventures. Sunday beckons. We have much to do around the house, but there is that whole "day of rest" thing that often conspires against us. We will have to see.
I am turning in.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
So, before I went to work on Friday I found a couple bags of the IAMS cat food that Newbie likes, at the Windsor Street Sobeys. In return, Friday evening, Newbie made momentary eye contact with me, acknowledging me.
Friday night, both Patricia and I went to bed pretty much as soon as we got home. Not sure what hit us, other than exhaustion.
Saturday morning, we eventually got up. We drove to the Valley for a day trip. I had to pay the man who mows the lawn down there. We ran some other errands and returned late this evening. Newbie was waiting for us, tapping his right front paw on the floor and looking at his little watch, the one he saved up for by capturing mice in the neighborhood a couple of years ago. He is enterprising. Give him that much.
We have spent the last few hours decompressing from our Valley adventures. Sunday beckons. We have much to do around the house, but there is that whole "day of rest" thing that often conspires against us. We will have to see.
I am turning in.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Post 3746 - Zzzzz
Much better.
Sorry I didn't write last night. My body shut down pretty early.
Tonight, Patricia attended a free lecture at the Tantallon library. Something about fermentation. When I told her she could just leave some vegetables out on the counter and walk away from them for two weeks, she didn't like that too much and invited me to stay home. So,I did.
I proceeded to wash the dishes, but exhaustion creeped over me so I decided to rest for "ten minutes". Next thing I knew, it was getting dark, and Patricia was calling. The thing was over, and she was at Sobeys, wondering what cat food to buy Newbie, because the usual stuff cannot be found anywhere. Maybe they don't make it any more.
Cats are not like people. We hate to eat the same thing, day in and day out. Cats do. Any change in their eating habits is stressful to them. Changing to another kind of litter is problematic. The water must be a certain temperature. I could go on, but you get my point. We sincerely hope that this certain brand of IAMS food is available, or we are in big trouble.
IAMS. Senior cat. Green bag. If you see it, let me know.
Thank you.
Newbie, sweetie? I wrote them like I promised you I would. Now, put Patricia down, okay, buddy?
(See you tomorrow. I hope)
Bevboy
Sorry I didn't write last night. My body shut down pretty early.
Tonight, Patricia attended a free lecture at the Tantallon library. Something about fermentation. When I told her she could just leave some vegetables out on the counter and walk away from them for two weeks, she didn't like that too much and invited me to stay home. So,I did.
I proceeded to wash the dishes, but exhaustion creeped over me so I decided to rest for "ten minutes". Next thing I knew, it was getting dark, and Patricia was calling. The thing was over, and she was at Sobeys, wondering what cat food to buy Newbie, because the usual stuff cannot be found anywhere. Maybe they don't make it any more.
Cats are not like people. We hate to eat the same thing, day in and day out. Cats do. Any change in their eating habits is stressful to them. Changing to another kind of litter is problematic. The water must be a certain temperature. I could go on, but you get my point. We sincerely hope that this certain brand of IAMS food is available, or we are in big trouble.
IAMS. Senior cat. Green bag. If you see it, let me know.
Thank you.
Newbie, sweetie? I wrote them like I promised you I would. Now, put Patricia down, okay, buddy?
(See you tomorrow. I hope)
Bevboy
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
Post 3745 - Tuesday Night Tuppence
So, how are you this evening?
Long day at work. After work, I went to the Superstore across the street and got some groceries while Patricia was enroute on the bus. I paid for most of the food while Patricia got some more stuff.
After we got home I ate the other half of a really expensive burrito we got at the Halifax Shopping Center last night. After I got the new strap for my father's watch (or, is it my watch now?), we ate something in the food court before we went to the Body Shop, where I got some shaving products.
The burrito last night was so big that I could barely eat half of it. A day later, I wonder why I bothered. Stuffed, nearly suffused, with a bland rice, the 12 dollar behemoth filled me up, but I will not be rushing back there. Is there a place in Halifax that sells good burritos?
I spent some time this evening trying to figure out what article to write about for my next cold case series in Frank. I have it narrowed down to two. Hard to say which one will win out. I have a bunch of cases that are in various states of production. Some of them, I started working on more than a year ago. Some of them, I will still be working on, a year from now.
Tomorrow is beckoning to me like an old girlfriend, one that was a bad breakup. I should probably turn in so I can prepare for it.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Long day at work. After work, I went to the Superstore across the street and got some groceries while Patricia was enroute on the bus. I paid for most of the food while Patricia got some more stuff.
After we got home I ate the other half of a really expensive burrito we got at the Halifax Shopping Center last night. After I got the new strap for my father's watch (or, is it my watch now?), we ate something in the food court before we went to the Body Shop, where I got some shaving products.
The burrito last night was so big that I could barely eat half of it. A day later, I wonder why I bothered. Stuffed, nearly suffused, with a bland rice, the 12 dollar behemoth filled me up, but I will not be rushing back there. Is there a place in Halifax that sells good burritos?
I spent some time this evening trying to figure out what article to write about for my next cold case series in Frank. I have it narrowed down to two. Hard to say which one will win out. I have a bunch of cases that are in various states of production. Some of them, I started working on more than a year ago. Some of them, I will still be working on, a year from now.
Tomorrow is beckoning to me like an old girlfriend, one that was a bad breakup. I should probably turn in so I can prepare for it.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Monday, July 9, 2018
Post 3744 - Is it? Or Isn't It?
After my father died in 2010, my sisters and my mother, and I think even Patricia, all told me that they wanted me to have his watch. I accepted it with some humility. I already had a watch. Why need another?
That summer, the battery gave out on the first watch, so I put on Dad's, and have barely taken it off since.
Over the years I have had to change the battery a few times, which is no big deal. But in 2012, or maybe 2013, the watch stopped working. I thought it might be the battery, but it wasn't. The mechanism, the inner workings, had broken. It would cost me... $75 or so to fix it. I agreed. It was my father's watch, dammit, and I would not let it end up in a drawer to languish.
Last week, during my vacation, the strap on my wrist watch broke. Nothing bad happened, other than the strap being broken.
So, tonight, after work, we went to the Halifax Shopping Centre to the Halifax Watch Company, and presented my watch, telling the young woman therein (named Pam) that I needed a new strap, and likely new pins to hold the strap in place. She had a strap that looked nearly identical to the broken one, and could supply stronger, thicker pins to hold the strap in place. She checked the battery for me and noted that it was nearly depleted. I told her to put a new battery in there.
Total cost was over $30.
This got me to thinking.
Is this still my father's watch? The only original piece to the watch would be the face of it, I guess. Maybe the back plate. But everything else -- the strap, the pins, the battery, the innards -- is new, or newly-replaced.
Should I still be so slavishly devoted to keeping this watch, which is sort of a new watch now? Would my dad regard it as his own if he were still alive and asked to see it?
I don't know. I don't know if this is my dad's watch any more. It is still a great watch. A Bulova that someone must have given Dad at some point because there is no way he would have spent the few hundred dollars to buy the thing. He would have been more of a Timex guy.
What are your thoughts on this? Am I still wearing my dad's watch, or not?
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
That summer, the battery gave out on the first watch, so I put on Dad's, and have barely taken it off since.
Over the years I have had to change the battery a few times, which is no big deal. But in 2012, or maybe 2013, the watch stopped working. I thought it might be the battery, but it wasn't. The mechanism, the inner workings, had broken. It would cost me... $75 or so to fix it. I agreed. It was my father's watch, dammit, and I would not let it end up in a drawer to languish.
Last week, during my vacation, the strap on my wrist watch broke. Nothing bad happened, other than the strap being broken.
So, tonight, after work, we went to the Halifax Shopping Centre to the Halifax Watch Company, and presented my watch, telling the young woman therein (named Pam) that I needed a new strap, and likely new pins to hold the strap in place. She had a strap that looked nearly identical to the broken one, and could supply stronger, thicker pins to hold the strap in place. She checked the battery for me and noted that it was nearly depleted. I told her to put a new battery in there.
Total cost was over $30.
This got me to thinking.
Is this still my father's watch? The only original piece to the watch would be the face of it, I guess. Maybe the back plate. But everything else -- the strap, the pins, the battery, the innards -- is new, or newly-replaced.
Should I still be so slavishly devoted to keeping this watch, which is sort of a new watch now? Would my dad regard it as his own if he were still alive and asked to see it?
I don't know. I don't know if this is my dad's watch any more. It is still a great watch. A Bulova that someone must have given Dad at some point because there is no way he would have spent the few hundred dollars to buy the thing. He would have been more of a Timex guy.
What are your thoughts on this? Am I still wearing my dad's watch, or not?
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Sunday, July 8, 2018
Post 3743 - Did You Miss Me?
It is late on Sunday night at Casa Bevboy. I have had a busy few days.
On Thursday evening, we drove to the cottage, to open the place up for 2018. Yeah. I know. July, and we're opening the place up. Sue us.
We were worried the lawn would be a sight. And it was. But we had seen worse. Friday morning, after breakfast in the town of Pictou, we returned to the cottage and put a battery in the lawn tractor, made sure there was gas in the tank, and were delighted to see the lawn tractor start right up. Patricia mowed the lawn for the first hour. At 10:30, I took over. Other than a quick lunch break at noon, I was out there until the full job was done. I finished around 1:45. Put the lawn tractor away and returned to the cottage. Fifteen minutes later, it rained. Perfect timing!!
Friday night we stayed in and watched a couple movies on the media player we keep up there. Nice having that and a flatscreen tv, to boot.
Saturday morning we went to Tatamagouche to get some breakfast and to check out the farmer's market. We returned to the city mid-afternoon, with victuals from the farmers market and some rhubarb from the cottage. Relaxed last night.
This morning I drove to Jordan Bonaparte's mother's place to record a couple editions of the Nighttime Podcast with him. They are about a couple of vintage unsolved murders. Look for those podcasts to be published in the coming weeks. We will schedule some more recording sessions in a month or two. These casts are popular with his listeners. I have got some good feedback from them, too.
This afternoon we watched some episodes of Poldark on Plex. Patricia hulled the strawberries we got yesterday in Pictou County, and cubed the rhubarb, too. Most of that stuff is resting comfortably in the freezer, with some in the fridge for our consumption.
I also spent some time this evening trying to remember how to do port forwarding on my router. They don't make it easy to do that stuff. I have forwarded ports a couple of times in my life. These people just assume that everybody does that crap, all the time, so I had several false starts before I got it working. I remembered the words of a co-worker. "Just hit it until it works". That's what I did, and eventually, it worked.
We return to work in the morning. These week-long breaks are nice, but they always taste like more. Not sure when I will get some more time off. Soon, I hope.
I think I will turn in. 5:30 comes very early.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
On Thursday evening, we drove to the cottage, to open the place up for 2018. Yeah. I know. July, and we're opening the place up. Sue us.
We were worried the lawn would be a sight. And it was. But we had seen worse. Friday morning, after breakfast in the town of Pictou, we returned to the cottage and put a battery in the lawn tractor, made sure there was gas in the tank, and were delighted to see the lawn tractor start right up. Patricia mowed the lawn for the first hour. At 10:30, I took over. Other than a quick lunch break at noon, I was out there until the full job was done. I finished around 1:45. Put the lawn tractor away and returned to the cottage. Fifteen minutes later, it rained. Perfect timing!!
Friday night we stayed in and watched a couple movies on the media player we keep up there. Nice having that and a flatscreen tv, to boot.
Saturday morning we went to Tatamagouche to get some breakfast and to check out the farmer's market. We returned to the city mid-afternoon, with victuals from the farmers market and some rhubarb from the cottage. Relaxed last night.
This morning I drove to Jordan Bonaparte's mother's place to record a couple editions of the Nighttime Podcast with him. They are about a couple of vintage unsolved murders. Look for those podcasts to be published in the coming weeks. We will schedule some more recording sessions in a month or two. These casts are popular with his listeners. I have got some good feedback from them, too.
This afternoon we watched some episodes of Poldark on Plex. Patricia hulled the strawberries we got yesterday in Pictou County, and cubed the rhubarb, too. Most of that stuff is resting comfortably in the freezer, with some in the fridge for our consumption.
I also spent some time this evening trying to remember how to do port forwarding on my router. They don't make it easy to do that stuff. I have forwarded ports a couple of times in my life. These people just assume that everybody does that crap, all the time, so I had several false starts before I got it working. I remembered the words of a co-worker. "Just hit it until it works". That's what I did, and eventually, it worked.
We return to work in the morning. These week-long breaks are nice, but they always taste like more. Not sure when I will get some more time off. Soon, I hope.
I think I will turn in. 5:30 comes very early.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Post 3742 - How Hot Is It?
It is so hot that..
A. I heard on the news tonight that strawberries are going unpicked in the fields, for lack of labourers. The strawberries are literally cooking in the heat.
B. A police officer was chasing a bad guy in Halifax today. They were both walking.
C. I am stripped down to my skivvies, and I am not ashamed of my body, even though I should be.
D. I only left the house today to roll down the windows in the car, and to get the mail. It was like walking into a blast furnace.
E. We watched tv in the recroom this evening, hoping it would be cooler. It was, if only barely.
F. Newbie looks like he wants to die. He is on the floor of my home office. The tile, I hope, is keeping him a bit cool. Probably isn't.
What are you "It is so hot" lines?
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
A. I heard on the news tonight that strawberries are going unpicked in the fields, for lack of labourers. The strawberries are literally cooking in the heat.
B. A police officer was chasing a bad guy in Halifax today. They were both walking.
C. I am stripped down to my skivvies, and I am not ashamed of my body, even though I should be.
D. I only left the house today to roll down the windows in the car, and to get the mail. It was like walking into a blast furnace.
E. We watched tv in the recroom this evening, hoping it would be cooler. It was, if only barely.
F. Newbie looks like he wants to die. He is on the floor of my home office. The tile, I hope, is keeping him a bit cool. Probably isn't.
What are you "It is so hot" lines?
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Post 3741 - One Vacation Day Down...
It is late Tuesday night. Technically Wednesday morning.
I slept in this morning. After lunch, I started chipping away at my latest Frank true crime piece. The story grew in the telling, as they say. I worked on it this afternoon and after a couple episodes of "Poldark", I put the finishing touches on it and submitted to my editor.
People have asked me how I know when a story is done...
Wait. No, they don't.
But... I just want to write about when I know an article is done so I can send it to my editor.
Oh. Okay. Carry on, then.
Thank you.
Where was I?
I could probably spend even more time than I presently do, writing these articles. Re-writing this. Noodling around with that. I do plenty of that, anyway. But there comes a time when you have to trust your instincts and realize that you have to send it off to a higher power, your editor, and let him see if he agrees with your writing choices. You can delay the inevitable, but not stop it from coming.
In the morning, I will start following up on a couple more leads for another upcoming article. My editor gave me a tip a few weeks ago and while I tried to follow up, it didn't pan out. Will try again.
I think I will turn in.
See you tomorrow, my lovelies.
Bevboy
I slept in this morning. After lunch, I started chipping away at my latest Frank true crime piece. The story grew in the telling, as they say. I worked on it this afternoon and after a couple episodes of "Poldark", I put the finishing touches on it and submitted to my editor.
People have asked me how I know when a story is done...
Wait. No, they don't.
But... I just want to write about when I know an article is done so I can send it to my editor.
Oh. Okay. Carry on, then.
Thank you.
Where was I?
I could probably spend even more time than I presently do, writing these articles. Re-writing this. Noodling around with that. I do plenty of that, anyway. But there comes a time when you have to trust your instincts and realize that you have to send it off to a higher power, your editor, and let him see if he agrees with your writing choices. You can delay the inevitable, but not stop it from coming.
In the morning, I will start following up on a couple more leads for another upcoming article. My editor gave me a tip a few weeks ago and while I tried to follow up, it didn't pan out. Will try again.
I think I will turn in.
See you tomorrow, my lovelies.
Bevboy
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Post 3740 - Sunday Night Shenanigans
Hello.
It is late on Sunday night.
Friday I went to bed early. My body shut down and that was that.
Saturday we got up 8-8:30 or so. We left the house an hour or so later and drove to the Valley for the day. Well, after we had breakfast at Cora's in Clayton Park, that is.
We wanted to check out Kingsport Gala days, but we stopped off in Wolfville first to check out the farmer's market. I got some more Alpine beer, which is five dollars off if you buy two 12 packs of the best beer ever made by humans. End of commercial.
We got to Kingsport. Learned there would be no parade. The yard sales were winding down, but I got Patricia a copy of a Donna Morrissey book. I got a Brita water pitcher for two bucks. Eventually got a new-to-me laser printer/scanner/fax machine for ten dollars, which I don't know if it even works yet.
By mid-afternoon we were getting peckish. We drove over to Scots Bay to check out the restaurant over there, only to learn that it had not opened this year, and the building was for sale. We drove around looking for Ami McKay's house. You know Ami McKay? Author of the Virgin Cure, the Witches of New York, and The Birth House? Her? We were driving up the road where I had heard she lived when we drove past a couple walking their dog. The woman was... Ami McKay!!
We chatted for ten minutes or so, us remaining in the car. I re-introduced myself (we had met before), and she remembered me. Said that she liked my cold case series in Frank Magazine and had nice things to say about my work there, which was very nice of her to say. We drove up the road and got turned around in her driveway, before driving past them again. As we did, I said, "I know where you live!!", and we all laughed. Well, we did.
We continued on our way, returning to the Look Off (we had to pass it to get to Scotts Bay; the cops were doing a roadside check on our way in, but had left by the time we returned), and then up the road where the Ross Creek Centre for the Arts is. It is down a long dirt road, and we didn't feel like finding it, so we returned to the paved road and drove over to Hall's Harbour to the lobster pound.
We found it, but the place was busy. Had to park across from the place and walk back. We were starving. The ordering method is... weird. You go in to the gift shop and regard the menu before walking over to the cash register and telling whoever is there what you want to order. We both wanted lobster, dammit. We told her the size and paid in advance. Someone gave us a plastic container which had our live lobsters in it, along with a receipt and a slip of paper and a metal thingy that held a number on it; ours was 46. We were to carry the lobsters over to the cookhouse next door and give the guy the slip of paper. The man told us that our lobsters would be ready in 30 minutes. We went to the place where you eat to wait for our food. The place was nearly full of "reserved" tables, so we were lucky to get a place to sit at all. We were by the door, which was a bit annoying.
We ordered some onion rings to start, which added to the already-huge bill. They were good. I consumed the cranberry juice I had ordered before the lobster arrived.
Our food arrived. Here is mine:
Yeah, this is what $56 will buy you on a Saturday night at the Hall's Harbour Lobster pound. An "extra large" lobster.
Patricia said I went "all Henry III" on my food, and I suppose I did. This is an extremely rare treat for us. Lobster is a very, very exclusive meal. No longer is it poor man's food. It is perceived as such a delicacy and a luxury item that one has to eat every damn bit of it that one can.
I enjoyed the living heck out of my lobster. I attacked it with a gusto that must have made me look like a Neanderthal man trying to impress a Cro-Magnon woman. I ripped and plucked and sucked and dug and pulled, every bit of lobster meat I could find in that sucker. Somewhere, Henry III was looking down on me, nodding with approval.
The Caesar salad, on the other hand, was disappointing. Drenched in some kind of white substance that was far too strong for my tastes. The croutons were from a bag. The lettuce was limp and listless. I did not like it at all and did not finish it.
Patricia enjoyed her lobster, as well, but she passed the body of the lobster to me as that is not her fave. She also doesn't like the tail, so I got those spoils, too.
We eventually finished. I paid for the onion rings, and we left. We went to Kentville to get a few groceries. Returned to the house where I napped for a couple of hours. Got up around 10:45, loaded up the Soul, and we drove back to the city, arriving around 12:15. Patricia went to bed and I put the victuals away before coming downstairs here for a while. I was not tired. At first.
We both slept until noon. I got up, realized I had a headache, took one of my pills, and returned to bed. I didn't really get up for the day until nearly 4pm. I grilled some burgers on the barbecue and we ate them along with some tomato slices.
After dinner I cleaned out the barbecue, which had more than a little bit of charred food in it, and grease. Pretty gross, actually. The grills were and still are soaking in the sink, along with the drip tray.
So, another Canada Day is behind us. We don't have much to show for it, other than a level of humidity such that sweat is running out of every poor in our bodies.
We are on vacation this week. We need to get to the cottage to mow the lawn there as we haven't been there yet in 2018. The lawn must be at a mark where the trespassers who feel they have a right to wander over the property are severely inconvenienced. Shame on us.
I think I will turn in. Try to get back to a regular sleep pattern.
See you tomorrow. Or, later on today, depending on how you look at it.
Bevboy
It is late on Sunday night.
Friday I went to bed early. My body shut down and that was that.
Saturday we got up 8-8:30 or so. We left the house an hour or so later and drove to the Valley for the day. Well, after we had breakfast at Cora's in Clayton Park, that is.
We wanted to check out Kingsport Gala days, but we stopped off in Wolfville first to check out the farmer's market. I got some more Alpine beer, which is five dollars off if you buy two 12 packs of the best beer ever made by humans. End of commercial.
We got to Kingsport. Learned there would be no parade. The yard sales were winding down, but I got Patricia a copy of a Donna Morrissey book. I got a Brita water pitcher for two bucks. Eventually got a new-to-me laser printer/scanner/fax machine for ten dollars, which I don't know if it even works yet.
By mid-afternoon we were getting peckish. We drove over to Scots Bay to check out the restaurant over there, only to learn that it had not opened this year, and the building was for sale. We drove around looking for Ami McKay's house. You know Ami McKay? Author of the Virgin Cure, the Witches of New York, and The Birth House? Her? We were driving up the road where I had heard she lived when we drove past a couple walking their dog. The woman was... Ami McKay!!
We chatted for ten minutes or so, us remaining in the car. I re-introduced myself (we had met before), and she remembered me. Said that she liked my cold case series in Frank Magazine and had nice things to say about my work there, which was very nice of her to say. We drove up the road and got turned around in her driveway, before driving past them again. As we did, I said, "I know where you live!!", and we all laughed. Well, we did.
We continued on our way, returning to the Look Off (we had to pass it to get to Scotts Bay; the cops were doing a roadside check on our way in, but had left by the time we returned), and then up the road where the Ross Creek Centre for the Arts is. It is down a long dirt road, and we didn't feel like finding it, so we returned to the paved road and drove over to Hall's Harbour to the lobster pound.
We found it, but the place was busy. Had to park across from the place and walk back. We were starving. The ordering method is... weird. You go in to the gift shop and regard the menu before walking over to the cash register and telling whoever is there what you want to order. We both wanted lobster, dammit. We told her the size and paid in advance. Someone gave us a plastic container which had our live lobsters in it, along with a receipt and a slip of paper and a metal thingy that held a number on it; ours was 46. We were to carry the lobsters over to the cookhouse next door and give the guy the slip of paper. The man told us that our lobsters would be ready in 30 minutes. We went to the place where you eat to wait for our food. The place was nearly full of "reserved" tables, so we were lucky to get a place to sit at all. We were by the door, which was a bit annoying.
We ordered some onion rings to start, which added to the already-huge bill. They were good. I consumed the cranberry juice I had ordered before the lobster arrived.
Our food arrived. Here is mine:
Yeah, this is what $56 will buy you on a Saturday night at the Hall's Harbour Lobster pound. An "extra large" lobster.
Patricia said I went "all Henry III" on my food, and I suppose I did. This is an extremely rare treat for us. Lobster is a very, very exclusive meal. No longer is it poor man's food. It is perceived as such a delicacy and a luxury item that one has to eat every damn bit of it that one can.
I enjoyed the living heck out of my lobster. I attacked it with a gusto that must have made me look like a Neanderthal man trying to impress a Cro-Magnon woman. I ripped and plucked and sucked and dug and pulled, every bit of lobster meat I could find in that sucker. Somewhere, Henry III was looking down on me, nodding with approval.
The Caesar salad, on the other hand, was disappointing. Drenched in some kind of white substance that was far too strong for my tastes. The croutons were from a bag. The lettuce was limp and listless. I did not like it at all and did not finish it.
Patricia enjoyed her lobster, as well, but she passed the body of the lobster to me as that is not her fave. She also doesn't like the tail, so I got those spoils, too.
We eventually finished. I paid for the onion rings, and we left. We went to Kentville to get a few groceries. Returned to the house where I napped for a couple of hours. Got up around 10:45, loaded up the Soul, and we drove back to the city, arriving around 12:15. Patricia went to bed and I put the victuals away before coming downstairs here for a while. I was not tired. At first.
We both slept until noon. I got up, realized I had a headache, took one of my pills, and returned to bed. I didn't really get up for the day until nearly 4pm. I grilled some burgers on the barbecue and we ate them along with some tomato slices.
After dinner I cleaned out the barbecue, which had more than a little bit of charred food in it, and grease. Pretty gross, actually. The grills were and still are soaking in the sink, along with the drip tray.
So, another Canada Day is behind us. We don't have much to show for it, other than a level of humidity such that sweat is running out of every poor in our bodies.
We are on vacation this week. We need to get to the cottage to mow the lawn there as we haven't been there yet in 2018. The lawn must be at a mark where the trespassers who feel they have a right to wander over the property are severely inconvenienced. Shame on us.
I think I will turn in. Try to get back to a regular sleep pattern.
See you tomorrow. Or, later on today, depending on how you look at it.
Bevboy
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