Is it Spring Yet?

A couple of weeks ago, several North American groundhogs tried to tunnel up from their lairs to let us know if spring was near. Don't get me started ranting about a society that relies on weather forecasts from rodents.

We on The Rock have experienced high winds, torrential rainfall and generally warmer weather the past few days. Enough of the piled-up snow melted, allowing the boy to scour the back garden in search of dog sausages (armed with a long-handled shovel, several garbage bags and a military grade hazmat suit).

The warm weather has also roasted rousted me from my hibernation. A little bird informed me that my number is up...actually, me letter is up. I am the featured studmuffin friend today as part of Cathy Webster's Letter From a Friend series. You can read my submitted letter to Cathy and her humourous lead-in commenting on my writing, my chapeau du jour and my general 'hotness.' All That, and more, may be found at her blog Life on the Muskoka River.

Cathy did say some sweet things about me. And she made up a bunch of stuff too. So when my overall embarrassment subsides I will crawl back into my burrow and wrap myself up in my 'tablecloth' until spring. Environment Canada has gotten the forecasts so messed up recently that I've taken to consulting a Ouija board prior to leaving the house. Also, Naked Pete (shown below) said that Spring will arrive promptly on April 1...can a blind, hairless rat be wrong?



Just noticed that Pete's got teats...what's up with THAT?



What...Another birthday?

It's Sunday afternoon and we can now call the boy's birthday weekend officially over.

Sean is now 16. The years have sped by faster than an unleashed greyhound chasing a fleeing poodle. It seems like only a few days ago that it was Day 1 at the hospital: my arms were outstretched and my hands clasped that alien-like person---his tiny fists were clenched, his bottom lip pouted and he was wailing at the top of his lungs. 'V' was recovering from the 23 hour delivery. She managed a pained smile and whispered, "He's lovely, now take him back to the nursery."

His actual birthday was during the week (mid-term exams here) so we deferred celebration until the weekend. A late January birthday here limits the possible activities. They tend to be indoor celebrations. For instance, last year we took him and three of his friends to dinner and a movie at the mall (they got to sit at their own table to avoid the embarrassment of being seen with us in public---I suppose it may have been the fez...). A couple of his friends have opted for 'Sweet 16' parties in the basements of their homes. Sean wouldn't have that as he knows perfectly well that he lost most of his sweetness by the age of 10.

Christmas dinner this past year was held at my parent's house, so we did not get a chance to cook a turkey at home. And the last time we DID host a large meal, the numbers were too big to break out the china and silverware (a setting for 8 people).

As I have mentioned before at this blog, my son seems to walk to the beat of a different drummer. He decided this year that he would like to celebrate his birthday by having some of the b'ys over for a turkey dinner served up on the Royal Albert China with silverware and, if I may be allowed a cliche, "the whole nine yards." The photo below shows the Saturday night setting before the boys moved in for the kill. For those keeping score at home, the pattern on the china is 'Brigadoon'.



We were going to put out one extra setting in case the Queen dropped by...

  As it turns out, only two of Sean's guy-friends managed to attend the fancy dinner. I told the boy that perhaps the other boy's tuxedos were not clean from their previous dining experiences and they were too embarrassed to 'dress down' for this occasion. We hosted a few more boys on the Friday night with a couple of take out pizzas and a movie in the family room that is normally out of bounds to the teenage species (they have their own recreational area in the basement). Pizza was by Boston Pizza (I mention this only in case someone from that fine organization reads this and throws a freebie our way).

The more casual Friday soiree was also a bit of an odd occasion as there were firearms (pellet rifles) being used downstairs. They have a 'firing range' set up  in the crawlspace that can be accessed from the basement and amused themselves with a bit of target practice prior to dining. For the record--we are not negligent people. The only reason we let the boys get into this at all is the fact that most of them are sea cadets and have training in the use of the pellet rifles at the base.

'V' was given a bit of instruction in cake decorating a while back and did her own cake and cupcakes (see photos  below). I must say, that was the highlight of the weekend for me. Sean had a four hour drill practice with the cadets today so we rushed together some bacon and eggs for brunch. This is one of those rare occasions that I'm allowed to pollute my arteries with cholesterol (I only hope that my physician does not stumble across this blog).

Only 16 candles. I can't remember back that far

They all tasted like mint (umm...I didn't eat ALL of them...)

And in closing I must shout out the praises of 'V' who did an excellent job with the sacrifice of the bird, the baking of the tasties and for showing bravery above and beyond the call of duty by taking the boy out in search of a suitable birthday gift. His early attempts at getting a car or a recreational boat were denied. We may be stupid, but we're not crazy. We settled on a technical gadget thingy to aid with his computer fun. It looks like it should fly. And at THAT price it should serve me single malts and whisk me away somewhere warmer for a vacation...

Count on Me

The holidays are officially done. The last of the peanut brittle has been scoffed up, the tree is down, the lights removed from that sad little bush outside the front door and the hundreds of other festive things have been stowed away for the year. And that's not counting the hundreds of ornaments on the tree or the fact the tree has about a thousand of those tiny little lights...



courtesy of shutterstock.com

 I guess that I should mention that I have always had an interest in numbers. As a yute, when I could first count, I would repeatedly count all 21 of my digits. This has not changed as an adult (the counting thing, not the number of digits) as I still make mental calculations in my head. Not obsessive like, but definately a good user-upper of my time.

While driving on the highway I will see a sign indicating the number of kilometers (miles to my US cousins) and calculate at present speed how long until my arrival. I will do that at every road sign. Perhaps the timer on the stove is counting down the seconds until the moose stew is ready. I will catch myself closing my eyes and counting down in an attempt to reach '1' as the timer sounds. Crazy, no?

This reaches to the world of statistics as well. I am notorious for following the stats of hockey teams. Points for players, goals against averages of goalies and wins vs. loses can be found taking up precious space in my head. Up until last year I competed in a yearly hockey pool with the folks back at corporate HQ at an undisclosed location in SW Ontario.  The winner would often get hundreds of dollars milk and cookies and the admiration of the guys. I think that my penchant for numbers helped me win more than my share of the goodies over the years and they recently decided to have an 'in office' draft of players that would obviously exclude me (unless, of course, I footed the bill for the plane flight to get there).

I content myself these days by watching the stats and monitoring the progress of the players on our local team--the St. John's IceCaps, the newest club in the American Hockey League. My lack of posting blogs the past few weeks has obviously taken its toll on the number of visitors. Though who could blame them? Why drop by daily to see the same post slapped up on the screen, gathering dust and being circled by vultures.

Those of you who have followed this blog for a long time may recall the spinning globe I had in the margin. Each time a person dropped by there location was represented by a mark on the globe. It was very cool. Unfortunately it made me dizzy and I fell from my office chair way too much. My wife, however, blames it on the single malt. Whatever.

I HAD to have a (free) counter thingy to keep track of those kind folks who visited my humble blog. I noticed that quite a few people were using Flagcounter and I made the switch. It keeps count of the countries who attend the blog and also the states and provinces of those in America and Canada. For a fee you can open other provincial and state counters for a number of foreign countries.

I have had the feature on my blog for about a year and see that I have had visitors from 112 countries. I quick peek into Wikipedia reveals that there are 192 sovereign states and an additional 13 states whose sovereignity is disputed giving a total of 205 countries in the world. I have therefore had visits from 54.6% of the countries (no, I did not figure that out in my head). This year I have had over 3100 US visitors, 2000 from Canada (thanks mum), 1000 from the UK and 300 from Australia.  Since the first of January I have had visitors from four new countries. Hello! to that person from Saint Kitts and Nevis who dropped by on the first of January. On a side note...Saint Kitts and Nevis is only 104 square miles in area with a population of about 51,300.

Are you sick of me throwing out numbers yet? Har! I could go on all day. Anyway, whether you are a new visitor or have tolerated me since my beginnings in 2009 I'd like to wish you all a Happy 2012! Health and happiness to my writing and non-writing friends. Incidentaly, if you add 13 to 2012 and then take the square root, the answer is 45...

Year End Round Up

It's nearing 6pm here and I'm on a push to finish this post...otherwise the title would be rendered invalid.

For those that don't know this, St. John's is the first city on the North American continent to celebrate New Years. The time difference makes it a bit awkward to watch Dick Clark (whoa, he's 82 now!) and such New Years eve shows on the TV. The ball drops in the Big Apple at 1:30am our time. I've taken out my false teeth and used my walker to make my way to bed long before that.

We've enjoyed the neighbourhood Christmas lights the past few weeks but they will soon be coming down. Except for those who leave them up all year round. My favourite (again) this year is the large display of muted green, blue and purple lights in the trees along the busy boulevard from our provincial parliament buildings to the university. My pet peeve is the dozens of ladders on the sides of homes with fake elves perched on the rungs. Also on that list are inflatable candy canes that light up and those inflatable clear balls with blowing snow and a Santa trapped inside. They remind me of the display at St. Patrick's Church back in London. The big fella and his crozier are proudly displayed on its front lawn encased in a clear plastic cylinder. He seems a bit excluded from the general public, but at least he's protected from snakes.

Where was I...yes, Christmas displays that leave me scratching my head. You see a lot of homes here with those little electric lights sitting on the sills of all the front windows. They look like little menorahs except there are fewer lights involved and they're made of plastic. I'm not sure if they are symbolic of something. Does anybody out there know? Please enlighten me. Finally, have you seen those lit-up deer all over the place. You know the ones...a light metal frame in the general shape of a deer with small, white lights strung all over it. I think they sell them at Costco. Probably every where else as well, going by the number that can be found grazing on the front lawns of houses in this area. I did see a photo of one deer display that showed great humour and a lot of originality. The gutted deer in the picture to the left was hanging from an arbour SOMEWHERE in North America. There's a lot of hunters living here and I'm sure the trend will catch on for NEXT year.

I watched a couple of really good independent movies on IFC this holiday season. The first was a comedy-drama called 'The Station Agent' (2003). It's about a young man with achondroplastic dwarfism who inherits from a friend a small train station in Newfoundland, New Jersey (yeah, that's the name...it's just a coincidence...honest). Fin (an amazing performance by Peter Dinklage) seeks a life of solitude, shying from human interaction. However his neighbours find ways to insinuate themselves into his life. This tale of friendship and lonliness was written and directed by Thomas McCarthy and is well worth your time should you see it in the TV listings (or chose to rent it).

Another thoughtful movie is 'Saint Ralph' (2005), written and directed by Michael McGowan. This story begins in Hamilton, Ontario in 1953 and is about a boy whose mother is in failing condition in hospital. This young man, played with tons of charm by Adam Butcher, is a social outcast and attends a Catholic school. He decides the only way she can be helped is with a miracle and he sets out to train for the upcoming Boston Marathon. The cynical and dismissive headmaster is played with uncharacteristic malice by Newfoundland's Gordon Pinsent. This is a good one to lift one's spirits and has a lot of laughs.

This year has seen me mainly unproductive in the writing world. Even the frequency of blogging has fallen off the past couple of months. It's now 3 hours until midnight. I'd make a resolution to do better if I believed in that sort of thing. I'm of the mind that if one wants to improve they should work on it at any time of the year, not just January the first. I'd like to wish you all the best for 2012. May health and happiness be the order of the day for you and yours, my friends.

Mummering: What's Old is New



Photo by Keith Gosse/The Telegram



Upon moving here to Newfoundland in 2006 I quickly observed that 'The Rock' was unlike any other location in Canada. A little-known Christmas tradition that has gained a resurgence in popularity in recent years is mummering.

It is believed that mummering found its way to Newfoundland from England nearly 200 years ago. The tradition involves a group of people disguising themselves in costumes and visiting homes within their community. They will entertain their hosts by singing and dancing and perhaps telling jokes. The hosts will supply them with snacks and 'liquid refreshments' and try to guess the identities of the visitors. This is not easy as everyone has their faces covered and men are often disguised as women and women as men. This tradition was made popular in "The Mummers Song" by Newfoundland folk duo Simani in 1982. Play the 3 1/2 minute video, first aired on the CBC program 'Land and Sea',  for a feel for what a visit from mummers was like for those living 'round the bay'.



And...below THIS is a link to a two minute video from last Saturday's Mummer's Parade here is St. John's.



The mummering tradition has been noticed by the US satirical new organization The Onion and featured/lampooned in a recent video. You can see that two minuted video below.


Traveling Group Of Medieval Mummers Is America's Top Pick For Holiday Entertainment

So there you have it...all you wanted to know about mummering. And a bit more. Holiday wishes to you all...whatever it is you may be celebrating this time of the year. And finally a feel-good story...the little puffin who found his way home. In a case of 'misdirection', a 6 month old puffin somehow got lost and flew from the Atlantic Ocean to downtown Montreal (mon dieu!). He was flown back (courtesy of Air Canada) to St. John's last night and will spend a couple of weeks R&R at a bird sanctuary before being released back into the 'wilds'. Now there's a happy ending. You can link to that story here.

*sniffs and wipes tear from eye*

An Encounter in the Woods

Just thought that I'd pop into the blogosphere again for what's quickly turning into a semi-monthly posting schedule. Perhaps my inactivity explains why the number of followers has dropped a couple since my last post. Perhaps that svelte picture of me in my last post offended a couple of people? Too much butt-crack perchance? Hopefully nobody thought that was really ME!

My back pain persists but at least I'm staying away from the hospital. A couple of weeks ago the dog was lying on the floor of my office...looking at me with sad, bloodshot eyes. He has been ailing as well of late. Perhaps some sympathy pains from man's best friend?

I figured that a mid-day walk would be good medicine for us both. It was a bit chilly so I threw the lined coat on our greyhound and leashed him up. As we left the house, Jake the Shih Tzu spied us from the house across the road. He stood on the back of the living room sofa and I'm sure was imagining a big, tasty rat as he vigourously shook his stuffed toy.

We walked down the gravel path into the urban woods, breathing the fresh air and stretching our limbs. Jet eventually forced me to use a poopy bag. Thankfully only one (anyone who's owned a large breed dog knows that a dumpster is a requirement in the back yard). A beagle darted towards us. It had a collar with tags but there was no owner in sight. As it neared its hind end dropped and its tail curled between its hind legs. I tried to lure it towards me but it ran off the path into the stunted pine trees. (On a side note...in my former life as a 'Dog Catcher' only one type of dog ever tried to bite me...a beagle).

A young man came along the path. He looked a bit cold as he wasn't wearing a jacket. He stooped as he grasped the collar of a shepherd-ish looking dog. He explained that the dogs escaped the house when he had the door open. The lived at the end of a nearby busy street. I couldn't loan him my leash as my dog would no doubt run away. With my back in its present state, I was deduced to running the 100 yard dash in over 12 seconds and knew there was no way I would be able to catch the sprinting greyhound.

He explained that the beagle was his step-father's hunting dog. She was normally kept in a pen (Boo!) and naturally ran to the woods after the 'great escape'. He tried carrying the beagle in one arm as he stooped to grasp the collar of the other dog. The beagle squirmed too much so he put her down on the gravel path.

I told him that perhaps he should lead the dog he had home and I would keep the beagle following me in the woods until his return. "Good plan, dude!" he said.

Unfortunately the beagle spied a woman jogging along the nearby busy street and chased after her. "Bella," the young man bellowed after the fleeing beast. The scene in the faux forest had become a bit too surrealistic for my liking. I knew we were only a few sleek bodies and sparkles away from being in a bad Hollywood blockbuster (apologies to Stephenie Meyer).

To make a long story short, the young man soon returned with a leash and Bella the beagle grew tired of chasing the jogger and returned to the woods in search of more challenging game. She hung about Jet and I until she was secured on the leash and returned to her life of drudgery.

The End

I am a Beetroot

We've quietly slipped into December and now begin the three weeks of madness that lead into the Christmas festivities. Speaking of madness...NaNoWriMo is now complete. My congratulations to those of you who completed the 50K word goal. Maintaining the required pace (of about 1666 words) for 30 days can be really challenging (physically, mentally and maritally).

New topic. I've posted before about the odd assortment of people who have appeared on my doorstep for one reason or another. You may recall my mentioning the man selling fish products door to door from the trunk of his car. Though the list looked tasty enough, I just can't see myself buying food products that have been stored with old beer bottles, jumper cables and a spare tire.

A few years back I had a middle-aged man appear looking for used books in order to make enough money to get the ferry to return home to the mainland. I gave him a few paperbacks and he tucked them into his plastic bag and continued on. The following year he was back again looking for more books. At least this time he didn't spin the story of using the money for ferry fare. I gave him a couple more.

Two years ago I posted about an elderly gentleman selling a book about the (recent) history of Old Perlican, a fishing community on the northern tip of the Avalon Peninsula. There was a story about the old man and how he lost both hands in an electrical accident back in the 70's. I bought a copy of the book for $20. He gingerly pinched the bill between the tines of his right hook and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

We have had charitable fundraisers, security system salesmen, politicians and purveyors of religion appear at the door. Sometimes the traffic has been so heavy it's hard to imagine that we live on an island. I guess that suburban door to door 'visitors' are universal. Perhaps the oddest thing I've seen at the door was the week after Halloween of this year. Supper was on the go in the kitchen and darkness had fallen. The doorbell rang...


The Happy Vegetables.


I opened the door and three young people stood before me, ready to get into their spiel about Oxfam. I have nothing against this fine organization but their people were more than a little creepy showing up at the door, in the dark, dressed as vegetables. Seriously. One was a carrot, another was a celery and the third was a vegetable yet to be named. Note to Oxfam: it may be in the best interest of your fundraisers NOT to show up at people's doors dressed as food items at supper time. Their being a couple days late for Halloween didn't help the oddness of the encounter. I can't help but think of a Barbara Walters interview in this situation. "If you were a vegetable, what type of vegetable would you be?"

What's the oddest person/thing that has appeared at YOUR door?

On Back Pain, Laziness and Lame Ass Excuses

OK...I suppose I left off on my last post with a bit of an ominous tone. And a cheesy grin.

Seriously, I'm doing great. Well...at least adequate.

I thought that I'd pop in and reassure the two or three readers I have left that I'm not pushing up daisies. Thanks for the concern shown via comments, phone and email.

In the past *checks back to when he last posted* 36 days I've managed to stay out of the hospital. The first couple of weeks of that time frame were taken up with my sister's visit from Edmonton. Our AHL hockey team began their season and I went to 5 home games in 11 nights.

I've visited my Dr. again once, had another blood test and been to see a physiotherapist 5 times. I was hoping to come back with some cool pics of my liver from an ultrasound. However I can't be scheduled in until January so the organ will have to remain a mystery for a while longer (anybody...did that sound weird?). Perhaps it's kidney shaped instead of liver shaped. All this internal organ discussion has got me a bit hungry. All we need now are some mashed potatoes and fried onions and we'd be all set.

With all the time out of the office I find myself playing 'catch-up' after hours, sometimes until 7pm.

This is not a picture of me...

My back is still bothering me quite a bit. So much so that I'm still keeping away from basketball. The geezers aren't too concerned as I'm not the only one off with an injury (fondly referred to as 'broke' in the circle of the elderly). My main concern is that I"m probably the topic of conversation when they head out for beers after the game.

I'm still waiting for those exercises I was shown at physio to start working for me. Damn voodoo. I even purchased a new office chair hoping for better back support. At that price it should have come with a codeine dispenser. Now THAT would have been useful.

I suspect my sense of humour departed the same time I went to the emergency with the fever and chills. A general laziness has set in (yes, a special laziness...one much more consuming than my usual laziness). Perhaps my humour, and ambition, will soon return.

I will stop whining now, wipe away the drool dripping from the corner of my mouth and shamble into the living room. It's Wednesday night and Survivor is on TV soon. Oops! Did I say that. I only meant to think it.

Be back soon...well, at least sooner than 36 days.

The boy's report card is coming home by the end of the week. Hmm...perhaps something blog-worthy...