« July 2005 | Main | September 2005 »
August 31, 2005
Hurricane Katrina
I could not leave for a few days without saying that, like people all over the world, I have watched with great sadness the scenes of death and devastation left behind by Hurricane Katrina.
I've been watching CNN for the last few hours and every report just adds to the incredible horror of this disaster.
My prayers are with the families of the victims and those who are trying desperately to save everyone they can.
God be with you all.
Posted by OldGuy at 8:18 PM | Comments (7)
Off For A Few Days
And finally, I'm going to be on vacation for the next 4-5 days again, a little mini-holiday.
If we stick around town I may post something otherwise I won't be around until Sept. 6th or 7th.
Like the last time, I'm leaving the door unlocked so feel free to drop in, have a party, whatever.
Just one more thing to ask though. The last time I came back I found a squirrel passed out underneath one of the big chairs. Come on folks, I don't mind if you have a party, heck the place was nice and clean the last time, but don't give these little fellas liquor, that's worse than feeding them. The little bugger's drank my entire collection of airline bottles !
Posted by OldGuy at 12:51 PM | Comments (9)
BoTB Again
It seems the old complaints about Battle of the Blogs continue to make the rounds. Ive read a few blogs this week that discuss BoTB and make several claims about it being unfair, etc.
Having battled for a few months now and won a few I would like to address some of the complaints I've read and hopefully (but not likely) put them to rest.
1.) You have to have a custom design.
My template is the same old default I started with a few months ago and while I'm sure it has been a factor in some battles I've done okay with it so far. I even read a comment by Tony where he says his template is not too fancy either and he's tough competition.
I do hope to get a custom template soon but it's not because I need one it's because I want one, it'll make my blog look nicer.
2.) You have to have pictures of naked women
I don't have any and I never will. Enough said about that.
3.) You have to hang around the Shout Box and make friends and ask them to vote for you.
I've made some friends in the Shout Box but I've never asked anyone to vote for me and never will. Enough said about that too.
4.) You have to leave a lot of comments on other people's blogs.
Yep, I do this. A lot of them also leave comments on my blog. It's called being friendly and showing an appreciation for stuff you like.
5.) If none of the above works, nothing will.
Actually, writing stuff people want to read and making them laugh or cry or smile or whatever works pretty good.
Posted by OldGuy at 11:28 AM | Comments (13) | TrackBack
I'll Stay Home
I've heard the restaurants are classy in New York
But I'd rather stay home and flick peas with a fork
It's said the food is delicious in Rome
But I'll have a hot dog right here at home
For great German sausage they say try Berlin
But I'll cook it here, save the airfare and win
The chop suey they say is great in Hong Kong
But my wife makes it too and never goes wrong
For great creme brule you could go to Paris
But it's so expensive you must be an heiress
So instead of burritos in old Mexico
We'll hop in the car and to Taco Bell go
Posted by OldGuy at 9:03 AM | Comments (1)
August 29, 2005
A Night at the Opera
Before we moved into our current home five years ago the place had to be painted so I thought I'd do it myself.
I'm not a real handy type so I underestimated the work involved. Also I've mentioned before that I have arthritis and that plays into this story.
The first day I painted for something like 10 hours non-stop.
I finally quit when my right knee was swollen almost the size of a basketball and was so painful I couldn't put any weight on it.
I had already decided to spend the night at the house so I could get an early start the next morning. Problem was I had only brought a pillow and a blanket, so I settled down on the hardwood floor and tried to get comfortable, not an easy task at this point.
I turned this way and that, my knee hurting like crazy, and suddenly got a cramp in the other leg. A massive one, one of those cramps that makes you want to cut your leg off then and there! I tried to work it out but that just made it worse, in fact every little move made it worse.
It's like God and St Peter were competing to see who could reduce me to a quivering, sobbing mass of humanity first.
"Hey God, watch this one, this is gonna be a real zinger," says St Peter and wham, he zaps me with a charlie horse the size of Texas.
So now I'm rolling around on the floor bawling my eyes out because the pain is incredible and it keeps getting worse and I can't stand up because both legs are out of commission.
So I beg God to make the pain stop because I can't take it anymore but it's his turn now and let's face it, he's the man, he's the king of comedy, so he turns to St Peter and says "You think that was good ? Watch this."
And I get hit with an incredible urge to go pee! Now! Immediately! But I'm on the middle level and the bathrooms are on the bottom and top levels.
So I try to stand up but the moment I put weight on my legs I collapse to the floor.
Now I'm feeling pain in my abdomen too because I have to go pee really badly and the urge is getting worse.
So I start to crawl across the floor, all the time pleading with God to make the pain stop, or let me stand up, or make the urge to go pee go away, anything, because I'm not gonna make it to the bathroom and I'm gonna pee myself and I won't be able to clean it up and in the morning my wife and kids will come to the house and find me lying in a poll of urine, weeping.
But I make it to the stairs and start crawling up on my hands and knees and that hurts too because my fingers are cramped up so I ask God to make that pain go away, but he's having too much fun, he's on a roll now.
I finally make it upstairs and into the bathroom, where I hoist myself onto the toilet seat. No, I'm not gonna try this standing up because I can't stand up and I'm crying so hard I'd probably miss the bowl anyway.
I feel that blessed relief as I relieve myself at last.
After I'm done I lay on the bathroom floor shaking and crying some more, from pain and relief and a small sense of triumph because I made it.
And the cramp in my left leg goes away.
God's won, the show's over, and there's nothing more to see here.
Posted by OldGuy at 8:59 AM | Comments (13)
August 27, 2005
Sunday Morning Musings
Questions and reminiscences might be a better title but ...
If a priest invites people over for dinner and he runs out of regular wine can he serve sacramental wine or is that a sin ? If he does serve it, what happens to the people who drink it, do they become holier than thou ? Maybe there's a ritual for unblessing it before serving it ?
Years ago, when I was a kid we knew a priest who loved to drink. My dad used to say he especially loved going over to the local judge's house to drink and play poker. Yeah, a priest and a judge and a few other guys would get loaded and play poker once a week. Says a lot about that little town. My dad only ever went once. I'd like to think he won money but somehow I remember he got in trouble with my mom so he probably lost.
I rememember my dad telling me that one time he went to a Purple Jesus party. In case you've never heard of it, a Purple Jesus party is where everybody who comes to the party brings some booze and they dump it all in a big tub or a nice new garbage can and everybody drinks from it. This concoction usually ends up looking purple but I'm not sure what Jesus has to do with it unless it's that the next morning you're so sick you're on your knees praying for death.
Father What's-His-Name apparently loved Purple Jesus parties. So did the judge.
Father What's-His-Name's sermons were always about the same thing. Every week he'd met somebody who was "cracked in the head", meaning they didn't believe in God so he converted them. Every week. Week after week. And then he'd come to church on Sunday and regale the congretation with the details of the conversion. In excruciating detail. Going on and on and on.
One time he came over to the house and my dad told him that if the sermon dragged on too long the following Sunday dad would get up and walk out. Sure enough, come Sunday Father What's-His-Name is preaching the sermon and not paying attention to how long he's been talking and dad walks out.
The sermons were shorter after that and my dad was a hero with everybody except my mom, who was really ticked off.
On a completely different note, our son is back from diabetes camp. He was gone for two weeks and judging by the stories and the slide show he brought back he had a fantastic time.
We're glad he's home, the house doesn't feel quite so empty now.
BTW, this edition of Sunday Morning Musings should really be called Sunday Middle of the Night Musings because I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote this post. I do that a lot. Am I the only person who does this ?
One other thing, I think there's some laundry to fold but I'm going back to bed because folding laundry at 4 a.m.would definitely be weird.
Posted by OldGuy at 8:40 PM | Comments (7)
August 26, 2005
Call Centre Boredom
I sit and wait for another call
But the phone just doesn't ring at all
I try to read the book I brought
But that requires too much thought
I take a pen and start to doodle
Wondering if I can draw a poodle
I surf the net, going here and there
But now my computer is full of spyware
At last I hear the phone start to ring
I lunge to answer it but don't hear a thing
I was so busy polishing my head
That the caller hung up and the line is dead
Posted by OldGuy at 10:30 AM | Comments (5)
August 25, 2005
Photo Blogs
I usually don't get involved in these discussions but I couldn't let this one go.
I read a post on someone's blog earlier today to the effect that a photo blog without commentary is just a photo album, nothing more.
Well, I strongly disagree and I'm sure you know why. As I stated previously I took a photography course once but wasn't much good at it so gave it up BUT I love a beautiful image, it inspires me.
In fact most of my poems and stories are based on images I have seen, either in person, or in a photograph.
So as far as I'm concerned, no commentary is needed. In fact, I'll make up my own, it's much more fun because I can let my imagination run wild.
Posted by OldGuy at 4:02 PM | Comments (17)
August 24, 2005
The Tree
The day the tree was gone George's life changed forever.
For fifteen years George had taken the same bus to work and every day he saw the tree. He had married and divorced, lost a son in the war, even conquered booze. Through it all the tree was always there and he had come to regard it as the only constant in his life. He had even developed an admiration for it, standing in the field alone year after year, enduring wind, rain, snow and heat.
Now it was gone.
That night George awoke in the middle of the night with a stomach ache. He took some Aspirin and the pain went away but for the next few weeks it kept coming back and it was worse each time. He also lost weight. George was already on the thin side and soon people started to notice the weight loss and suggested he see a doctor.
They diagnosed cancer and sent him for treatment.
Despite the doctors' best efforts George continued to get worse. What they didn't know, could not have known, was that George had lost the will to live. In his mind the loss of the tree had come to signify the end of his life. The tree was gone so he was supposed to die, it was that simple.
One day, near what should have been the end of his life, George met Sandy. Sandy was new to the oncology ward and was a dedicated nurse. She took a liking to George and tried hard to make him see that he could get better, it was just a matter of wanting to.
But George didn't want to, he didn't see the point. After all, the tree was gone.
One day, in desperation, Sandy asked George if he would like to go for a ride and George, having nothing better to do, agreed. She wouldn't tell him where they were going, just that she wanted to show him something.
Sandy drove across town to the children's hospital and took George to the oncology ward for a visit. She told him about the children there and how hard they wanted to live, hoping it would help.
George felt bad for the kids but that was it.
On their way out George asked if they could sit outside for a bit because he was tired and needed a bit of air. Sandy knew there was a small park at the back of the hospital so they went there.
And George saw his tree!
He saw the curve in the trunk where it grew horizontally for a bit before straightening out again and the big branch that looked like a pitchfork.
George could barely contain his excitement as he told Sandy about the tree, and she said she'd try to find out how it got there.
That night George felt good for the first time in months. He didn't have any pain and he was able to eat a small meal.
The next day Sandy told George what she'd found out.
The hospital administrator was visiting friends and they told him that a patch of empty land near their home was slated for development and the lone tree on the land was to be cut down. The administrator, a real nature lover, went to look at the tree and fell in love with it. He made a few phone calls, wrote a few cheques, and the tree was dug up, transported, and replanted in the park.
The moment George heard the story he saw his future.
Two months later George was released from hospital, having made an amazing recovery. He returned to his old job but nights and weekends he studied to be a nurse, and graduated with honours. He applied for and got a job at the children’s hospital and eventually got a transfer to the oncology ward, where he worked tirelessly for the next several years. He and Sandy married and adopted a little girl who was left without a family when her parents were killed in a car accident.
Many years later, when George died, they renamed the park after him.
And the nurses said that sometimes, if the light was just right, a figure in white could be seen sitting on the bench under the tree smiling at the children.
Posted by OldGuy at 10:35 PM | Comments (5)
I Saw the Loch Ness Monster
I saw the Loch Ness Monster this morning.
It was just a glimpse but I saw it's curved back as it was diving back into the water. It was sorta brown and I'm not sure if it had scales or anything because the bus was moving pretty fast when I happened to look up but there it was.
I was about to turn to the guy sitting next to me and quietly tell him what I'd seen but then I remembered.
I live in Canada.
That's not a loch, it's the river.
I'm glad I remembered that before I said anything because it would have been very embarassing.
For him.
I mean, just imagine this guy suddenly jumping up and shouting that the guy next to him saw the Loch Ness Monster but now I've remembered where I live and that's a river out there and it was probably just a log sticking out of the water so I deny everything because I don't want people to think I'm nuts.
What a maroon !
Posted by OldGuy at 8:46 AM | Comments (11)
August 23, 2005
A Revelation
I had a revelation this morning while I was in the tub. At least I think it was a revelation, it sure felt like one, left me sobbing and wondering why I hadn't seen it before.
First a little history.
A couple of months ago I wrote a post called I Can Make It Better. It was about a dream I had several years ago and how sometimes life gets rough but how God also speaks to us.
Anyway, read it if you're interested.
This morning I was thinking about writing and blogging and stuff and how much I enjoy it and suddenly it hit me !
For years I've been thinking about that dream and wondering if the tornado represented just one bad thing or if it was all the bad things lumped together; also, if the bad stuff was over or if more was still to come; all the while missing the main point, the essential message of the dream.
God can make it better !
Every time I've seen that tornado in my mind it scared the hell out of me, but not once did I stop to think that I might be missing the whole point of the dream.
See, I started blogging about a year ago and since that time I've discovered that I have a passion for it, that it brings me joy and peace. Sometimes it makes me cry but in the end, it makes me happy.
And maybe when God said that he can make things better he meant that he would show me how to see things differently, how to look at life with a new appreciation for the beauty that surrounds us.
Maybe he wanted me to start writing so that I could heal.
I guess what it comes down to is this. You know those pictures that are not what they seem ? When you first look at them, you see an old man but you look again and you see a young woman ?
I think that's what was happening every time I thought about that dream. I was seeing the tornado but not seeing the light that shone through it.
I think the tree house is partially God's creation. It's God telling me not to worry about the tornadoes, he'll take care of those, it's his job. Oh sure, things may get a bit rough again, and I may have some work to do myself, but in the end, it's still his job. My job is to focus on the beauty and the writing and do my best to muddle through life with his help.
Posted by OldGuy at 9:56 AM | Comments (7)
August 22, 2005
The Intruder
When I was 18 or 19 I started sleep walking. I did it 4-5 times over the next year and have never done it since.
Most of these sleepwalking episodes didn't amount to much. A friend walked me back to my room when I was found in the hallway of our dormitory at university, my dad stopped me one night when I tried to take the garbage out, that sort of thing.
But one incident was like an episode out of The Twilight Zone.
I had come home for the summer to work at the local paper mill before going back to university in the fall when the following happened.
One night my mother awoke in the middle of the night to find me standing on her side of my parents bed. At first she thought I had come into their room to wake them up because something was wrong so she turned on her bedside light and asked me what was the matter.
My answer chilled her to the bone, "I'm measuring."
My mother then realized I had been sleepwalking again but rather than get out of bed right away to lead me back to my room she asked what I was measuring.
"Just measuring" I replied.
Needless to say she was not reassured.
She then got up the courage to get out of bed and lead me back to my room.
The following morning my mother laughed as she told me what had happened. A little nervous laugh.
She asked if I knew what I had come to measure in their room in the middle of the night however I had no recollection of the incident so couldn't help her.
The rest of the summer my mother always looked tired, as though she wasn't sleeping well at night, maybe sleeping with one eye open.
And when the day came to drive me to the airport so I could go back to university she seemed unusually anxious to get going, almost as if she was glad to get rid of me.
Posted by OldGuy at 6:15 PM | Comments (10)
August 21, 2005
Sunday Morning Musings
I was cleaning the house yesterday and looked under the sink where we keep the cleaning products and a bunch of bottles were almost, but not quite, empty.
You know how when there's still some cleaner in them but not enough for the spray thingy to reach it so it won't spray. I hate that because then you either have to take the lid off and pour it out or throw the bottle away, and I hate wasting good cleaner.
Anyway, I got to wondering, if you were to pour all those left over cleaners into one bottle would you get a super duper cleaner that would polish your furniture, clean your windows, wash your floors, disinfect everything, and leave the whole house smelling lemony-limey-orangey-piney fruit salad smelling ?
I fold tea towels in two then in two again. My wife folds them in three and then in three again because she says they take up less space in the drawer. They don't. I think she does it just to bug me.
We have a little ceramic spoon thing that sits on top of the stove. You know, one of those things you put a spoon or a fork in when you've used it for stirring something and you don't want to get the stove dirty.
She always places it facing left to right so it's facing the side of the stove. I always place it front to back so it's facing the back of the stove.
A coouple of weeks ago she gave me trouble for doing it my way so now I do it her way. Except when she's not home I do it my way then turn it back before she comes home.
My wife bought a couple of toilet bowl brushes a few weeks ago because I'm the one who cleans the bathrooms and she thought I could use them.
I hate those things. They don't do a good job and they get stuck in the bottom of the bowl and when they come unstuck they splash toilet water in your face.
I prefer to just stick my hand in and clean the toilet bowl. It does a much better job and I don't get toilet water in my eyes.
And yes, I wash afterwards. Right up to the elbows. Three times. First with regular soap, then with bleach, then with regular soap again.
Which brings me to another point. My hands are clean when I'm done. The toilet brush on the other hand (pun intended) sits in that little toilet brush holder all wet and full of germs. How sanitary is that ?
Posted by OldGuy at 6:47 AM | Comments (22)
August 20, 2005
Wanna Know What I Think About You ?
Or does the thought strike fear into your heart ?
Anyway, I got this meme from Croaker so I'm responding in kind. Comment on this post and:
1. I'll respond with a random thought I have about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or so we think).
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your blog
Posted by OldGuy at 12:39 AM | Comments (20)
August 19, 2005
Signs of Fall
A tree with a single leaf painted brilliant red
Soon it will be ablaze with colour, burning but not dying
A yellow school bus rumbling down the street, empty
Awaiting the sound of laughter, children renewing friendships
Pumpkins growing in the fields, getting plumper every day
They will grin in the darkness, Halloween candies filling bellies
Waiting for the early morning bus, a nip in the air
Time to look in the closet for parkas, hats and mittens
Night sky a jeweller's cloth, diamonds, emeralds and rubies shining
In exchange for cold God gives us beauty
Posted by OldGuy at 8:57 AM | Comments (13)
August 18, 2005
Now This is Good
Today's entry is a photo.
But before you click on the link let me warn you, this is one nasty lookin fella, probably should be wearin the Hell's Angels colours and ridin a three-wheeler.
And so I give you:
Posted by OldGuy at 2:24 PM | Comments (9)
The Picnic
The young man glanced lovingly at his wife, who was laying the food out on the old wooden picnic table, the one that had been at the cottage for as long as he could remember. He loved the way his wife's hair looked in this light, long, soft, glowing ...
Funny, she hadn't worn it long for years ...
He looked up and saw his daughter had finally gotten the kite in the air. She had spunk that one, she'd been at it for hours without giving up and finally succeeded. The kite was a bright orange triangle in the clear blue sky, and his daughter squealed with delight to see it dancing in the sky like a butterfly. She saw him, gave him a dazzling smile, then ran off, the kite trailing in the air behind her.
He thought she'd lost a tooth recently ...
His son was looking forward to the family picnic. He'd been very careful about what he ate lately because of his diabetes and today he was going to splurge and eat whatever he wanted.
Except his son didn't have diabetes ...
He spied his dad coming out of the cottage with the BBQ briquets. His dad had never bought a gas BBQ, saying food tasted better when it was cooked over briquets.
His dad must be colouring his hair he thought, there wasn't a trace of grey in it. He looked in good shape too.
Like he had when they used to go swimming together ...
He noticed his mother helping his wife with the food and went over to see if they needed anything. His mother always reminded him of Audrey Hepburn, young, dark, beautiful.
Especially today ...
The young woman looked down at the old man on the bed, a tear rolling down her cheek. They'd found each other years ago when they'd both lost their families. She had been a child then and he'd raised her as his own
She loved him deeply.
In his last days, the pain racking his body, he'd begged her for her help.
She hoped she'd done the right thing.
The smile on his face told her perhaps she had.
Posted by OldGuy at 12:26 PM
August 17, 2005
Opa !
So the Greek Festival is on here and we went last Saturday. We'll probably go again because it was so crowded on opening night that it was hard to see much and we absolutely love to watch the Greek dancing.
Every year the Zorba dancers put on a great show, dancing up a storm, breaking plates and sipping Ouzo as they dance. This year there was even a ring of fire added but we couldn't see much so we only caught glimpses of it. There must have been a couple thousand people there all watching the show.
As I said, that's okay, we'll go again before it's over.
Greeks are passionate people. Just watch a Zorba dance with the men jumping and drinking and stuff and everybody yelling "Opa" and you can feel the passion oozing out of them in waves.
If I tried dancing like that I'd probably get a hernia !
The motto of the festival is "Live a day the Greek Way" which is okay if you just want to dance (albeit a little more slowly) or drink Ouzo or eat dolmades and baclava, which is great with that thick Greek coffee that's served in little cups and is so bitter it would kill you if it weren't for the baclava.
And have you ever heard these people talk ? They're loud ! Always ! And fast too ! It's like listening to cannon fire being around these people. There's no such thing as polite conversation when you're hanging around Greek people. It's either you're lively and loud like they are or you sit in the corner of the room and shut up.
Ah, the Greek women, what can one say about them except... gorgeous and once again, passionate. Walking around the festival grounds the other night was like being in heaven, except with the volume turned up.
And Greek people are passionate about their causes and stuff like that too. I saw a James bond movie once where James had to enlist the help of some Greek commandos to storm some island and he was worried that they might not cut it so he asked the leader if his men were willing to die and the leader answered yes. James then asked how the leader knew this and he proudly responded "because they're Greek."
Oh yeah, and if a Greek woman, or more accurately, a Greek family has their eye on you, just roll over and play dead because they will do everything in their power to make you a member of the family. As long as you're Greek that is, otherwise don't bother, you're wasting your time.
One interesting custom they have is that they invite Jesus over every New Year's day.
How do I know this ?
Because I've been to our Greeks friends for New Years eve and they always bake this cake that has a coin in it and the person that gets the piece with the coin gets to keep it and it's supposed to be good luck.
There's just one problem. One piece is for Jesus. I swear, the first time we went the lady of the house put a piece aside for Jesus, who apparently comes and blesses the house on New Year's day. When nobody got the coin I asked if maybe it was in Jesus's piece and could we check but she said no it was his piece, period.
So I'm thinking if Jesus goes to a whole bunch of Greek homes every New Year's day and gets cake and cash and he's been doing this for a couple thousand years he must be the richest, luckiest guy in the universe.
Like he needs it !
Posted by OldGuy at 11:29 AM | Comments (23)
August 16, 2005
An Adventure
While on vacation a couple of weeks ago we were driving from Niagara Falls to Toronto at dusk and I saw a beautiful sight.
The sun had just set and the western sky was that combination of blazing pinkish orange at the bottom changing gradually to deep blue at the top. The moon was new, just a sliver of silver hanging in the sky and not too far from it shone one bright star. I looked out the car window and saw Toronto off in the distance across Lake Ontario. Looking out the front again I saw three birds flying across the sky, looking as if they were headed to Toronto like we were.
And the following image came to mind.
I am an adventurer of old crossing the steppes looking for the fabled jeweled city. I have already journeyed 2 moons and have been following that star every night as the legend foretold. Now I finally see the city off in the distance but is it real or is it a mirage ?
I look up and see the three dragons that are said to protect the city circling above, then winging their way westwards back towards the city.
With their incredible eyesight they have spied me and are off to report to their masters that a lone rider, no threat really, approaches.
Can you see it ?
Posted by OldGuy at 12:30 PM | Comments (5)
Out of the Mouth of Babes (continued)
My wife went out shopping the other day and while she was out she called and said she needed to speak to both kids, presumably to ask them about stuff she was buying for them.
My son got things straightened away quite quickly and then the princess got on and we heard the following from her:
"The blue ones."
Pause
"Like the sky."
Pause
"Like daddy's underwear !"
My son and I broke up laughing, although I blushed a little too.
Oops !
Posted by OldGuy at 10:12 AM | Comments (5)
Questions
I finally got around to answering Lou's questions. Here they are. Please leave a comment if you want me to have a go at you.
What game did you play as a child that means the most to you now?
Interestingly enough the first game that came to mind was one that I played as a teenager. It was called Diplomacy and you tried to take over the world by allying yourself with different players and fighting battles etc. But it was the plannning and indeed the diplomatic skills of the players that determined who won. I like to think of myself as a bit of a diplomat, smoothing things over when necessary, both at home and at work.
Tell us about your first kiss.
My first kiss was with the girl I wrote about last week, the one I had my first crush with. It happened the same night I held her hand and I don't so much remember the kiss as the entire evening. I was the star of the school play and I got the girl I was in love with all in the same night and life was good !
Why are your kids lucky to have you as a father?
The biggest reasons are the following. First, I'll do anything for my kids, I'll walk through fire for them if I have too. Then again, so would most parents. But the reason you probably really want to hear about is that I like to have fun with them and I like to show them things that they might not see if it wasn't for me pointing them out, things like beautiful sunsets and fireflies and the way a tree looks when it's covered with ice.
I read a line once in a Stephen King book that pretty much sums up what I mean. One of the characters says "My mom taught me everything I needed to know to live, how to cook and clean and stuff. But my dad taught me the magic." And I guess that's what I try to do.
What was the most influential class you ever took? How does it affect you now?
It wasn't one class, it was any class that encouraged reading (like English). I love to read and any class that provided me with the opportunity to do so was great.
If you were a monster on Sesame Street, what color would you be, would you have a honker or horns and why, and what letter would you be most likely to introduce?
This is a no-brainer. Oscar the Grouch. I love Oscar and yes we're a lot alike. We're both a bit grouchy but under that gruff exterior lies someone who loves his family and his friends and would do anything for them. I would introduce the letter Z just because it's funky and weird and you can make funny sounds with it.
Posted by OldGuy at 9:55 AM
August 15, 2005
The Scene of the Crime
The big police detective entered the room and surveyed the scene.
This was the worst ever, he simply couldn't believe what had happened here.
Slowly his eyes roved around the room and took in every detail.
There was a female lying facedown next to the bed. Her partially nude body looked like it had been tossed carelessly aside when the perpetrator was done with it.
Another female was curled up in the corner and, unbelievably, her head had been torn off and thrown casually into the wastebasket. Her eyes were wide open but of course they saw nothing.
A male was lying on his back on the bed, his arms and legs splayed wide. His clothing had been ripped from his body and dumped in a pile next to him.
He continued to survey the room in shock and horror as he counted the bodies ... 4, 5, 6 ...
He heard a noise behind him, turned, and saw his daughter standing in the doorway.
He gruffly said to her "This room is a mess, you'd better get it cleaned up before bed."
She gave him her best "what did I do wrong?" face, the one that never failed to disarm him and answered sweetly "but daddy, I was only playing with my dollies."
Posted by OldGuy at 5:33 PM | Comments (10)
August 14, 2005
Passionate About Blogging
If you're just surfing for credits I suggest you move on because this is going to take longer than 30 seconds.
Do you hear that ?
It's the wind of change blowing softly through the tree house.
Okay, so this post is about a few things, the first being change. The tree house may undergo a few changes over the next couple of weeks, although I'm not sure what they are yet. What I can tell you after having spent a couple of months at Blogexplosion is that I concede that design does count for something. I have seen some awesome designs over the last few months and certainly people like Jenny work damn hard to bring blogs to life with their incredible designs, so yeah, I admit it, design counts.
So does this mean a radical design change? Well, no, I'm not skilled enough and can't afford it so ... However I may try to move a few elements around, eliminate others. We'll see. All I can do is try.
But design is still only packaging and packaging hopefully isn't what blogging is all about. It isn't to me anyway. To me it's about passion. I blog because I'm passionate about it. Over the years I've tried and abandoned several hobbies, mostly because after a while I realized I didn't have the passion to go any further with them.
But writing I'm passionate about. I started slowly about a year ago and since that time I've wanted to do it more and more and get better and better at it. To make someone laugh or cry or smile is to me an incredible feeling and to know that I can do it blows my mind. And I've become a keen observer of the world around me in the last year too, I notice things I've never noticed before and I'm always on the lookout for an idea and when I get one I get excited and can't wait to get started. And I'm happier because I have this hobby that I'm so passionate about, and that shows. My family may think I'm a little nuts when I start to laugh or cry unexpectedly but they also kinda like it because they know the old man just had an idea and he's raring to go!
So back to change, which is where I started. Another change was today's post where I announced that I'm going to start showcasing other people's stuff in the tree house, like Suzi's or Stacie's or Knapp's or whoever. Does this mean I'm running out of ideas? Hell no, I've got plenty of em! These are people who've struck me as being passionate about their blogging and I'm proud to showcase them here. Go read their stuff, I'm sure you'll agree.
Oh yeah, and I'm going to add a few photo blogs to the blogroll soon too because one of those hobbies I tried and abandoned was photography. Interestingly enough though that was the only hobby I didn't abandon because I lost the passion for it, I just wasn't that good at it. But as you know I love images and when I see a beautiful picture it stirs me and the ideas start coming. So I tip my hat to those of you with a passion for photography, I wish I could do what you do.
So there you have it, change and passion.
Altough I'm not overly passionate about change I am passionate about blogging so I guess I'll change just a little.
Anyway, I've gone way over my 30 seconds but at least I warned you in advance.
Posted by OldGuy at 1:59 AM | Comments (12)
August 13, 2005
Now This is Good
I've decided to try something new.
Every once in a while I'm going to feature a post from someone else's blog that I really like so others can read it.
Will it be weekly ? Every couple of days ? Who knows, just look for the post with the aforementioned title.
And now I give you:
Posted by OldGuy at 12:25 PM | Comments (4)
August 12, 2005
The Old Man and Toast
Thanks to Croaker for the story idea.
The old man shuffled to the breadbox and unwrapped the loaf of bread, taking out two slices, soft, white, pristine, like Sister Veronica’s …
STOP, THAT’S HOW YOU GOT THIS WAY!!
He shuffled over to the toaster and carefully inserted the slices … deep … inside …
THE EVIL THOUGHTS AGAIN, MUST STOP THEM!!
He pressed the lever down, anticipating the toast that would soon be his. He loved toast; really, it was the only thing he truly enjoyed anymore.
Feeling the need to urinate he shuffled to the bathroom and sat down. Better this way, his legs didn’t cramp and he didn’t miss the bowl. He hated missing the bowl, what with the mess to clean. Better to sit and swallow his pride.
As always the flow was slow in starting and it came in little spurts.
God he hated getting old!
Finally he was done and he shuffled back to the kitchen.
Suddenly, well, not quite suddenly, nothing was ever sudden for him anymore, most things happened slowly; he smelled something evil, corrupted.
THE TOAST WAS BURNING!!
He raced, well tried to race; he mostly just shuffled a little quicker, to the toaster and popped the toast, staring at the blackened ruins. He plucked, well, not quite plucked; birds pluck, and birds are swift and agile, more like he slowly removed the toast from the toaster, burning his fingers in the process.
THE HORROR!! THE HORROR!!
Feeling like he was moving underwater he opened the utensil drawer … drawers … like sister Veronica’s …
IT”S THE TOAST HE REALIZED, IT’S POSSESSED BY THE BLACKNESS AND IT’S CORRUPTING MY MIND AND MUST BE EXORCISED!!
He took a knife from the drawer, blessed it. He had been a priest once … before Sister Veronica … he hoped he still had the power.
He scraped the toast, trying not to listen to the awful sounds it made, screaming and screaming, as of a beast tenaciously clinging to his soul.
Finally the last of the evil blackness fell into the wastebasket and the old man crumpled to the floor exhausted.
Slowly he got up, went to the pantry, took out the peanut butter and slathered it over the pristine toast.
Peanut butter … warm … smooth .. soft on the tongue … like Sister Veronica’s …
Posted by OldGuy at 11:31 AM | Comments (9)
August 11, 2005
Just Reminiscing Again
I was going to write a little story today but something happened at the bus stop that changed my mind.
I saw a tree that had a couple of leaves starting to turn red and felt a little chill in the air, not much, just enough to make me look at my watch, notice the date, and realize that summer is on the wane. And as I thought about the turning of the seasons I once again thought about some memorable moments in my life.
Remember your first crush ? I do. Her name was Barbara Smith and I was eleven years old the first time I held her hand backstage during our school's production of The Frog Prince. I was happy and scared all at the same time and my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.
What about the first car you ever drove ? Mine was my dad's Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme and it went like a bat out of hell and when I was behind the wheel cruising down the highway with the stereo cranked up full blast I felt like the king of the world and I thought I'd never get old.
How about the day you learned how to swim? I learned at a park near Niagara Falls, Ontario. My dad and my brother were tired of saving my life (one too many close calls) so they decided it was time I learned. I spent several hours trying to get it right and finally I was able to cross the pool on my own power and I felt invincible.
When I look back on these times I get a bit misty because I miss that feeling but then I remember the day I got married and the days my kids were born and the last time I crept into their bedrooms at night and it comes back, maybe a little different, not quite so invincible perhaps, but content.
Posted by OldGuy at 9:37 AM | Comments (14)
August 10, 2005
My Friend Wop
When I was a kid I knew a guy named Anthony Palazzo. Anthony was Italian and everybody called him Wop.
Now, you have to know that he told us to call him Wop, he said it was his nickname, and I was just a kid and didn’t know from Italians so I called him Wop.
I can’t remember his parent’s first names; probably they were Maria and Carmine. Yeah, the MCPalazzos sounds like an Italian hamburger.
“You want lasagne with that?”
Except Wop didn’t want us to call him Wop in front of his parents, why I don’t know. I think it was because they preferred Anthony; certainly that’s what his mother always called him, as in
“Anthony, we go bingo now, you be a good boy and help set up da tables.”
Yeah, I’m Catholic and my mom and Anthony’s mom ran the weekly bingo that paid for the construction of the new church. Sometimes Mr Palazzo even helped out.
Anyway I used to wonder what would happen if Wop got married and I got invited to the wedding and I was the master of ceremonies.
Hey, master of ceremonies, there’s that MC thing again. Maybe it’s MC Palazzo, the Italian rapper.
“We’re choosing a pope and we’re doin fine”
“Come on boys, slap your markers on B9”
“HUH”
Anyway, as I was saying, if I was MC at his wedding would it be okay if I called him Wop, or would his 953 aunts and uncles be offended? I don’t see why they would, after all, he’d be Big Wop then and probably a successful business owner, maybe in construction or sanitation, those seem very popular with Italians and they get very rich from it because they all drive around in big black cadillacs. Oh yeah, and they’re very musical, you know that because they carry violin cases everywhere.
Anyway, that was my friend Wop. I wonder what ever became of him.
Posted by OldGuy at 10:02 AM | Comments (3)
August 9, 2005
A Bedtime Story
“Tell me again about your old job grampa.”
“Well, I'd go to work in the morning and if there was sick people there I'd help em."
“You mean you'd heal them right grampa?”
“Yep, I'd heal em.”
“And how sick were they grampa?”
“Oh, they was powerful sick.”
“And tell me again how you'd heal them grampa.”
"Well son, they'd be sitting in that chair and I'd pull the switch and they'd be healed."
“And did they go to heaven Grampa?”
"I don’t think so son.”
Posted by OldGuy at 1:05 PM | Comments (3)
I Got Nuthin !
I was going to write a story today
But I cannot find the words to say
A picturesque description perhaps I thought
But alas, beautiful images I see not
Perhaps a song about a bird
But I cannot think of a single word
Maybe a tale about the princess’s latest deed
But the phrases won’t come to fill the need
What about a poem, yes a rhyme
But I just sit here wasting time
No matter what I try to write
I look at the screen and it isn’t right
I GIVE UP, I GOT NUTHIN !!
Posted by OldGuy at 9:59 AM | Comments (9)
August 8, 2005
I'm Back
Well, we got back yesterday and it was a great vacation.
We went to Toronto and did a lot of touristy stuff like Canada's Wonderland and Ontario Place. We also spent some time in the shopping malls and ate out a lot.
We also went to Niagara Falls, which the kids absolutely loved. We had gone last year but traffic was horrible and as it was a day trip we didn't get to see much. This time we took a hotel and spent almost two full days visiting the attractions, including the falls of course; my son was quite impressed with those. My daughter was big on the water park at the hotel.
Hey, as long as everybody is happy right ?
I have to tell you about the funniest thing that happened.
I had gone to the bathroom at a restaurant when another dad walked in with his two kids and made them wash up before dinner. Then, while he was helping one of them dry his hands the other one decided he wanted to see what those things were at the bottom of the urinal so he stuck his hands in to play with them. I was about to say something to the father when he turned around and saw what was happening so told his son to put those things down and come wash his hands again.
I thought was going to die laughing !
Anyway, a good time was had by all and we returned home tired but content.
Posted by OldGuy at 2:28 PM | Comments (11)