Expect Visitors

I just shooed a couple of Mormons away from my front door. Pesky things. Well, maybe they aren't so bad, in spite of the expose I saw on "60 Minutes." Mormons dress nicely and are polite. They look like they live as they preach. A couple of them once pushed my car out of a snowdrift. I wish them the best of luck when it comes to making it onto God’s VIP list. I just do not wish to hear them jabber about it.

The two boy missionaries asked me if anyone had ever talked to me about the Book of Mormon. I told them yes, the attempt had been made about 43,000 times. I smiled and said I exaggerate a little. Not much but a little. Then I invited them to take that long walk up our freshly paved driveway and find someone else with whom to talk. They asked if I knew anyone that needed to be saved.

Expect visitors.

Close Enough

It’s hard to hate Martha Stewart. She’s on the tele right now in all of her self-important glory, gracefully stirring the lumps out of turkey gravy with two young, overly exuberant Today Show hosts who, like nubile, bouncing bookends, are gushing over Martha. In contrast, Martha is showing the world that calm, queenly smile, totally in control. A pretty woman on the outside. Beneath that calm, cool exterior, she may be a manipulative, evil, soul sucker but it’s hard to hate Martha. Even if she bores me damn near to death.

Ah she’s gone now. She seems to have left the bookends behind. Lucky me.

So happy American Thanksgiving my friends. The Macy’s Day parade is about to start. The nubiles have been replaced by a fedora-wearing Al Roker chattering empty-headedly at a vacuous Jessica Simpson as a giant Snoopy balloon floats serenely behind them. Makes the world seem innocent and Disney-like. That’s not a bad thing. If only for a while. A little tapioca pudding for the brain.

I wish Al was less of a buffoon but oh well, he’s a happy buffoon. I’ll scoot him over to the side of the pudding dish with my spoon.

Four days off. Roast turkey injected with cajun spice in my near future. Every year I celebrate two Thanksgivings - how tasty is that? Canadian Thanksgiving was full of friends and laughter. Our guests paid homage to Canadian Thanksgiving by bringing Canuck doodads for the Canadian alter. Canada Dry, real maple syrup, Crown Royal and a moose candle. Thoughtful people. Next year I am hoping for Canadian bacon. Maybe a toque.

Today is a warm, windy day. I may putter around the yard. I’m courting a cold but in what fantastic world is everything perfect? Close enough, say I. Close enough.

Love and light y'all.

Silly

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blues & brews

Booga-Booga

Tasted the genteel life this slow Sunday morn. Sat in the comfy chair in the upstairs vestibule in the gentle light from the big windows with the holstein cat as company and read a chapter from "Midnight in the Garden of Good And Evil." I haven't had the chance to read much lately except for the 15 minutes I usually take before bedtime. My trip through the sights and sounds of Savannah was abruptly broken when the graceful Sweet-Pea fell from the window ledge. With a dignity and convenient memory reserved for fallen cats, she wandered off with a cartoon bubble over her head, exclaiming "Who me? Fall? Why the notion is utterly preposterous! Wait, what's that over there? A piece of string? How interesting!"

There is a little less of me these days. Elisabeth too. We are being faithful to our Weight Watchers diet and it is turning into a lifestyle. No temptations to fall off the wagon. Yet. Santa, we've been extreeeee good this year. For Christmas, could you please bring me a chunk of chocolate cake the size of your big ole fat head?

Chatted with Dad last night. He told me he had an eye appt. and the medico told him that he had no trace of diabetes, for which he had been previously diagnosed. Apparently there is a symptom which manifests itself in your eyes. He also has 20-20 vision. He'll be 81 in October. Not bad dear Dad. Diet, exercise and attitude. I hope both my vision, attitude and social life is as acute as yours in my later years.

Well, maybe not the social life. Whenever possible, which is not often these days, I'm finding the life of a creative recluse more appealing.

In retirement, I picture my skinny self in a dirty white robe galavanting through the woods behind my house, scaring the deer and 'possums, shouting "Booga-Booga" and laughing maniacally. After a long day of booga-booga-ing, I'll come in for a nice cat food dinner. My lovely wife will inquire about my day and I about hers. There will be reading by the fire, interspersed with oh-so-pleasant conversation. Every now and again, there will be contemplation of the vastness of the universe on the swings in the backyard while staring with wonder into the heavens on starry, starry nights. There will be time to create tiny universes of my own on the computer screen, clever, twisted, colourful little worlds conjured up from a photo I have taken. Perhaps I'll write a word or two in a weak moment, an article, a short story, a dirty joke. And maybe, just maybe, once in a blue moon, I will put on something besides a dirty white robe and visit with a friend or two because in all honesty, while I am at the moment not that fond of humanity in general, I do have some kick-ass friends in particular.

Ah but for now, my kick-ass friends, the show must go on!

WCTE is hosting Blues & Brews in October. One of my jobs is to create the promotional campaign, plus the illustrations, posters, on-air spots, print ads and, well, everything. Tomorrow morning I will become Dr. Fun, a Medicine Show Snake-Oil salesman, and shoot a spot for a Blues & Brews commercial. Always a new adventure on the horizon- I haven't starred in a commercial before.

Dancing As Fast As I Can

We jumped in a rental car this summer and drove 4 days to Drumheller. I really wanted to see my Dad and we couldn't get a decent fare on plane tickets. Five days in Alberta, a smile at a couple of friends (wish we could have seen everyone but alas...) then another 4 day drive home. Packed a lot in a few days. Below are but a few photos from that action-packed trip...

Elisabeth was delighted to see a cattle drive right next to and on the highway in Montana. This was taken from the car window.

This is what a Southern family looks like (if you count Southern Alberta). Ain't we... somethin'?

Hugs and, well, more hugs for Brent and Mary-Anne who motored in from Saskatchewan to visit.

Two and a half men - Me, Neil the Smurf and Wild Jim.

Mmmmm, doughnuts.

The mountains will do that for you. Make you all happy and smiley and such.

Neil teaching Kathy how to use her new camera to take most excellent photographs.

Dad and his great friend Betty.

From the foreground, my friend Terry (who drove out and spent the day in Drumheller with us), Dad, Patty (Betty's daughter), Elisabeth and Wilf (Betty's son-in-law). Betty is standing. Wonderful people.

Savannah

At the beginning of April, Elisabeth and I felt the need to escape so we took a few days during her spring break and motored down to Savannah Georgia. Elisabeth promptly caught the crud and spent most of the first day sniffling and snoozing in the hotel room while I wandered around the historic district taking photos. You can't keep a good woman down and she wasn't going to miss the sightseeing. By the second day, fortified by cold medicine, she joined me and we toured the old city. Since we were staying on the edge of the historic district, I parked the car for two days and we took the trolley or walked everywhere.

The city was settled in 1733, and has survived the Revolutionary and the U.S. Civil War. There is history everywhere you turn. The original Savannah was built with 22 park-like squares where residents could gather to play or meet or celebrate. Filled with grand old oaks, Spanish Moss, gorgeous flowers and statutes depicting the city's historic figures, these pretty squares were the perfect place to park your butt after strolling around in the "already-too-warm-for-the-Canadian" heat. In one of those parks, Forest Gump parked his butt on a bench and told anyone that would listen that life was like a box of chocolates. A Gump look-alike boarded one of our trolley tours and entertained us for a block or so before he ran off lickety-split just like Forest did in the movie (run Forest run).

There are kick-ass ghost stories here. A big battle was fought in Savannah during the Revolutionary War and part of the city was built on the mass graves. According to the local tour guides, many of the old soldiers continue to roam the streets. There are plaintive ghosts, mean ghosts, comfortable companion ghosts - there is even an evil house or two.

Elisabeth and I toured the Sorrel-Weed House (we were greeted by a tour guide from Prince Albert Sask (picured here). In that cheesy TV show, the Ghost Hunters, TAPS examined this house and found evidence of paranormal activity including an EVP (sound measurement) of a voice in the Carriage House. According to the stories, the mistress of the house caught her husband with a slave woman in the Carriage House, went back to the main house and killed herself by jumping off a balcony into the courtyard. The husband was devastated and retreated to the house for a few weeks. Allegedly he sent a couple of thugs up to the slave's room in the Carriage House (photo on left) where they killed his former lover. That is the room where TAPS found the EVP. Elisabeth had her Droid with her (fancy-assed phone with internet) and called up this EVP while we were standing in the courtyard (photo below), outside of the room where it was recorded. I have to admit to a couple of tingles.

The evil Mercer House below, featured in the book and movie, "The Garden of Good and Evil," has allegedly killed a number of people.

And a ghost we found on the tour...

On the last night we stayed on Tybee Island in a beachside hotel, about 20 minutes from Savannah. We enjoyed wandering down the beach and venturing into the cool Atlantic waters. It was fun but I don't think we'll go back. Too touristy. Below is the view from our room.

The 500-Year Flood

I was talking with a media friend in Nashville, an hour west of here, who told me that she knew one of the 31 people who reportedly died in the 500-year flash flood. She said that she flew over Nashville after the storm and the destruction was unbelievable. The mayor estimates that Nashville could face more than $1 billion in structural damage, not counting the long-term costs of lost revenue. Even the iconic Grand Ole Opry House stage where we took Dad on a tour last summer sat under 2 feet of water at the peak of deadly floods. Hundreds of homes were devastated and businesses were wiped out. When it rains around here, it doesn't fool around. It is like gravity doubles and that can sometimes make driving down the interstate a life or death situation. The tornadoes should be coming along soon too. On the other hand, the azelias are beautiful. Welcome to springtime in Tennessee!




We were lucky in Cookeville. It poured like crazy last weekend and there was a little water damage around town but we got off easy. While I've never seen the pond so full, our house sits up on a slope out of harm's way. There was a small leak in the garage and our gravel driveway has some big ruts in it but that's about it.