So what does a groundhog have to do with Father's Day ? Well, my wife and I and the princess went out for a drive and a picnic by the falls yesterday and when we got there we spotted this little fellow. As he seemed rather friendly I decided to get as close to him as I could and take a picture. Now, normally groundhogs are long gone before you get this close but this fellow actually approached me. At first I was surprised and a little scared as I thought he might be attacking me but I soon discovered that wasn't the case. Seems he was just having a rough day with the little ones and he needed to get out for a few minutes. We chatted, I commiserated, and we soon struck up a friendship. He told me that his oldest girl is growing up too fast and he just doesn't know what to do with her. She's watching videos by the Restless Rattlesnakes, the Stinging Scorpions, and the Tiresome Tortoises. Talks about boy groundhogs a lot and wants to hook up with a lazy character who only works once a year, usually in the spring.

I told him I understood completely and felt for him. We chatted some more and then he headed off in the direction of Charlie's Corner Pub, said he was going to drown his sorrows for a while.

I went back to the picnic, being careful not to tell the ladies about my little encounter as I didn't want them thinking I've lost my mind and think I can talk to animals.

Anyway, Happy Father's Day to all you fathers out there. It's a tough job but at the end of the day it's a rewarding one.

And to my dad, who died in 1995, thanks for everything.

Posted by OldGuy at 10:17 AM | Comments (3)

June 15, 2007

Lumbago, The Beginning; Part 4, A New Job

It was the chief. He and Jarl were meeting and wanted to see him right away. Lumbago protested that it was his day off but the chief cut him off, saying they had a top secret assignment they needed to discuss with him.

Lumbago put on his best suit, a three piece white Armani job. A black shirt, Cuban heels, St. Christopher's medal, and his police-issue .38 completed the ensemble. The suit had cost a bundle but it was worth it. And it wasn't like the dealer he'd stolen the money from was going to report it. He briefly considered sending flowers to the hospital then decided it would be adding insult to injury.

In the hall he grabbed his hat, the one with the large flashing red light on top, and put it on his head. He walked out and climbed aboard his new candy-apple red three-wheeler. It had long front forks, allowing him to stretch his legs out, and sported flaming orange stripes and chrome-plated custom-built mag wheels. He made loud revving noises and peeled away from the curb at a blistering 10 mph. He looked like a crazed John Travolta.

Traffic was crazy on the freeway so he cut through the park. It was a beautiful day and mothers were out with their babies, pushing carriages with gurgling infants nestled inside. Lumbago loved babies so would've stopped to chat but he was in a hurry so he blew right past them, leaving several toppled carriages, wailing babies, and sobbing women behind him. One young unwed mother pitched a cheap throw-away cell phone at him, the kind used by kidnappers, yelling "call me, my number's on it." He caught it on the fly. He'd call her later and invite her over for a game of Twister.

He raced through the park, narrowly avoiding a collision with a young man who'd been visiting his grandmother. The old lady had fallen and broken her hip a month ago and the young fellow had been bringing her a plate of brownies every couple of days since to boost her morale. It seemed to be working. She was watching an old Cheech and Chong movie and scarfing brownies when he left.

He exited the park and raced up the street to the police station. He entered the parking lot, looking for his spot. Olaffson, Gustaffson, Bjornsson. There it was, Pain. He parked, entered the building and took the elevator to the chief's office.

There had been a spate of animal murders in recent months and the SPCA had approached the Minneapolis Police Department for help in solving the dastardly crimes. The force had hesitated at first, citing lack of manpower and resources but then Jarl had seen it as opportunity to get rid of Lumbago, whose behaviour was becoming increasingly bizarre of late. He'd felt Lumbago out one night over a beer and Lumbago had admitted that he loved babies and animals. His dream was to someday open a combined obstetrical/veterinary clinic, healing animals and delivering babies every day. Jarl agreed it was a wonderful dream, secretly reminding himself not to invite Lumbago to the surprise birthday party Jarl's wife was throwing him next month, and which Jarl had known about for weeks.

Karl and Jarl told Lumbago that he had been chosen from amongst all the other police officers to head a new one-man unit, based out of a small office at the SPCA, to solve the murders. There was just one thing. As the unit was to be a complete secret he'd have to turn in his badge and gun. The force couldn't afford some reporter spotting him and screaming that the MPD were spending valuable money solving kitty-kat murders. When Lumbago protested that he wouldn't feel like a cop without his badge and gun Jarl looked at Karl, who hesitated, then nodded briefly.

They let him keep the gun.

Posted by OldGuy at 2:19 PM | Comments (4)

June 12, 2007

Musings

In my last Musings post I asked the question. "Is Sunday the beginning of the week or the end ?" The Princess informed me (looking at me like I'm an idiot) that it's the beginning. So the weekend is composed of the first and last days of the week. Whose stupid idea was that ?

I really need to get new glasses. I've had a prescription for a couple of months but haven't been to get them yet. I did buy new shoes a few weeks ago though so now I can walk in comfort. I just can't see where I'm going.

I made a couple little changes to the commenting system last night as the spam is back. You won't notice them though, they're completely invisible. Oh, and I can't tell you what the changes are either or the spammers might read about them and find a way around them. I only mention it in case you're interested.

Tomorrow is the year-end BBQ at my daughter's school. We've been going to these every year for the last 4 years now, and I really look forward to it. It's a chance to catch up with people I haven't seen all winter and see how much the kids have grown since last year. The BBQ also signals the end of another school year of course. The princess loves it but it's always a bittersweet feeling for me because it means she's getting older and moving on. Plus every year they have this guy who plays guitar and sings and he always plays a few oldies and it makes me cry. I think he does it purpose.

About Lumbago. He's sticking around. Someone who shall remain nameless (that's you Les) finds him amusing. I have to mention though that he's given me a little grief. You see, he wasn't supposed to be a permanent fixture. The original idea was to do a send up of Suzi's blog (which I am a big fan of) and Lumbago was supposed to be the straight man to her slightly wacky personality (and I mean that in a nice way Suzi). It didn't turn out that way. Lumbago sort of took over, exercising the full force of his strong, albeit deranged personality, on me. He insisted that his story be told, and when I tried to get rid of him he refused to go. One night he even woke me up in the middle of the night and insisted I write a song about him. We argued, there was much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth, me insisting I'm not a song writer, he saying that wasn't his problem, and we finally agreed to a compromise. I'd "borrow" an old Abba song and change the words. He said it would do. For now. Anyway, all of that to say that I'm stuck with him. I still have to finish telling the story of how he got the way he is (he tends to go off on tangents) but it's coming. What I really want to know though is how he got to Canada.

As to writing other stuff, poems, non-Lumbago stories, I'll continue to do that. As soon as he unties me.

Posted by OldGuy at 9:30 AM | Comments (4)

June 8, 2007

Lumbago, The Beginning; Part 3, Tubbie Time

Lumbago was in the tub. He'd washed his hair and scrubbed himself squeaky clean.

Now he was recreating the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Earlier he'd painted several beer caps battleship gray to represent the American fleet. They were floating at the end of the tub near his feet. He'd also painted large red circles on his collection of rubber duckies to represent the attacking Japanese Zeros. A megaphone was sitting next to the tub. Beside it was a bowl of grapes and next to that a bowl of carrots.

He looked around, then nodded, satisfied that everything was in place.

Without warning, because the Japanese attack had come without warning, he picked up a rubber ducky in his left hand. He lifted it high, then brought it down towards the beer cap American fleet. He made loud airplane noises, the ducky screaming down towards the beer caps. With his right hand he reached down and grabbed some grapes, dropped them on the beer caps. Zeros raining death on the American fleet. He reached down again and grabbed a carrot, threw it at the Zero. Anti-aircraft fire. The ducky manouvred, dived, avoided the carrot. He grabbed the megaphone and made loud wailing noises, an air-raid siren ringing out over Pearl Harbor. Another carrot. It struck the ducky. He sputtered, coughed, then sent the ducky whistling down towards the beer cap fleet. He yelled "Banzai", quickly recited a prayer for the soul of the rubber ducky pilot, then crashed the ducky into the fleet, sinking one imperialist running dog American beer cap. Suddenly another ducky Zero appeared on the horizon, racing past the soap dish at incredible speed. It came in low. He dropped three grapes. Two missed their targets but one scored a direct hit on a beer cap. The American beer cap fleet was being decimated by the superior fire power of the Japanese rubber duckies. More grapes. More sunken beer caps. Soon only a few remained floating.

He picked up the megaphone and barked out orders in Japanese.

What was this ? Retreat ? Were they mad ? The Americans only had three beer caps left !

A rubber ducky changed course at high speed, narrowly missing the soap dish.

He farted, sending a tidal wave to the other end of the tub. It sank a beer cap.

His cell phone rang.

Posted by OldGuy at 9:41 AM | Comments (3)

June 3, 2007

Musings

I used to post something called Sunday Morning Musings until a few months ago. The reason I stopped was that some Sundays I didn't have anything to say. Once in a while I'd even post Monday Morning Morsels just to make up for the lack of the Sunday post, and I'd be awake all night Sunday trying to think of something interesting to say. After a while I was going into work on Monday mornings exhausted and unable to perform my job properly and I was almost fired and this created great stress in my life and I was angry all the time and argued with my wife constantly and yelled at my kids and one Monday morning I was so upset I shot the neighbour's dog.

It just wasn't worth it.

Problem is though, I sorta miss these posts myself because some Sundays I actually had something interesting to say and it was a blast to just sit down and let all my thoughts come pouring out.

So I've decided to start these posts back up but just call them Musings. That way I can post any day of the week, mainly when a thought occurs to me, rather than save all my thoughts up for the end of the week, or is it the beginning of the week, what is Sunday anyway ? And if I don't have anything interesting to say on a Sunday, why, I can relax and not worry about it. And let's face it, blogging shouldn't be stressful.

The gloves ?

Well, interestingly enough, I was about to tell you about them. Those are CN Railroad work gloves (you can see the CN logo on them). One of my cousins gave these to my dad 13 or 14 years ago, said they were the best work gloves around and you couldn't buy gloves half as good in any store. My dad gave them to me not long before he died. My cousin was right. I may not be a railroad worker but I've put them through a lot. I've dug holes with them, hauled dirt, lifted, carried, pushed, and pulled stuff. I've left them out in the rain and the hot sun. And they're still in great shape. In fact I expect I'll pass them on to the lad some day and I'm sure they'll still be in good shape when I do.

They just don't make em like that anymore.

   

Posted by OldGuy at 9:30 PM | Comments (9)

   

June 1, 2007

 

Funny Stuff

 

I've been reading a lot of comedy writers the last several months, Carl Hiassen, Bill Fitzhugh, a couple of others. They're all good for a few chuckles but the king, the absolute king, is Tim Dorsey. Call him totally wacked, seriously deranged, whatever, this is one funny guy.

If you haven't checked him out yet, do yourself a favour and get your hands on one of his books ASAP and enjoy the antics of Serge, Coleman and the gang. You won't be disappointed.

Here's his web site.

Tim Dorsey.

   

Posted by OldGuy at 2:29 PM

     

Title change

 

I changed the title of the last Lumbago entry because it occurred to me that although it explains how Lumbago came to be offered a new job, at this point he hadn't accepted it yet. I suspect that happened at another meeting (which could be part 3, maybe due out early next week). Anyway, when you think about it these guys really are ...

   

Posted by OldGuy at 12:37 AM | Comments (1)