We are into our third cable free week. So far so good. The days seem longer and quieter. I have read a lot of books, but then I always read a lot of books. I have managed to see some super movies both on the big screen and the little one. To be honest the ones on the big screen were crap. The crossword gets done every other day. Hmmm... what other changes? Well I was sneaking in Coronation St. on the computer but Rogers sent me an email to say I had nearly reached my cap. I was unaware I had a cap. Seems I do and downloading t.v. is going to cost me, so it's goodbye Coronation St. I don't miss it really; it was pretty bad. There is always stuff to do in the garden. The linen closets have to be changed over. Oh there is lots to keep us busy... seems awfully dull looking at this. No wonder t.v. seemed so appealing. There will have to be some thought put into it, I can see. Perhaps it's time to dust off old manuscripts.
Oh lest we forget, there is the laundromat. The aged washer finally bit the dust and has had to have a gut rebuilt. It's so ancient that they don't make parts anymore but build them to order. Still it's cheaper than a new one. We can watch the wash slosh around and do the crossword as well. Can life hold much more? I ask you. It's all go up here.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Update
Life just trundles by up here. I get so busy doing nothing much that I forget to write and it is easier to tell a story here than over and over again as I meet people. That is assuming that anyone is reading this!
Yes... the boat. After much thought and grinding of teeth and wringing of hands it has been decided that a sailboat, much as we long for one, is too much physical work for two OAP's with four arms. three legs, and one back between them. So.. We are now on the hunt for a power boat, a sort of small floating cottage. Point and steer as it were.
The Better Half is building fences. He has just finished his second. This is done with younger backs to wield the sledgehammer. The fences are lovely and have a sort of zen like quality. Very elegant.
I am partway through a new painting and as it is done in oils, it's paint for two hours, dry for two weeks. I hope to finish by the end of June, humidity willing.
We attended number one grandchild's end of school concert. His stage presence was a little less than we had expected from such a lively boy. He never looked at the audience once nor did he open his mouth. At one point he clapped his hands over his ears. He seemed very relieved to be home where he turned into his normal happy, rambunctious, self. Well, they say the Stage is a calling. I remember his uncle having to be dragged off at the same age. Center stage seemed to be his home away from home!
Today as the sun is shining we are weeding the garden , making rhubarb and apple, visiting the Farmer's Market down the street, and possibly laying a brick path. Depends on the four arms, three legs and one back...
Yes... the boat. After much thought and grinding of teeth and wringing of hands it has been decided that a sailboat, much as we long for one, is too much physical work for two OAP's with four arms. three legs, and one back between them. So.. We are now on the hunt for a power boat, a sort of small floating cottage. Point and steer as it were.
The Better Half is building fences. He has just finished his second. This is done with younger backs to wield the sledgehammer. The fences are lovely and have a sort of zen like quality. Very elegant.
I am partway through a new painting and as it is done in oils, it's paint for two hours, dry for two weeks. I hope to finish by the end of June, humidity willing.
We attended number one grandchild's end of school concert. His stage presence was a little less than we had expected from such a lively boy. He never looked at the audience once nor did he open his mouth. At one point he clapped his hands over his ears. He seemed very relieved to be home where he turned into his normal happy, rambunctious, self. Well, they say the Stage is a calling. I remember his uncle having to be dragged off at the same age. Center stage seemed to be his home away from home!
Today as the sun is shining we are weeding the garden , making rhubarb and apple, visiting the Farmer's Market down the street, and possibly laying a brick path. Depends on the four arms, three legs and one back...
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Grandpa and the Mourning Doves
I was having a conversation with the youngest offspring today and for the life of me I don't know why we got on to the topic but we did. It may have been the next to youngest come to think of it now. Who knows , my past is a blur. There is just too much excitement here in Aurora what with black bears roaming the neighbourhood at night and getting treed the next morning. True! Check the t.v.
We, whichever child I was talking to started remembering how much my Dad hated mourning doves. He hated the way they cooed. There was a tree about level with his third floor balcony and the lovely gentle things would roost there and coo at him. Well, he took it personally.
In retaliation he would go out early in the morning or at dusk, whenever they were at coo, and sling used teabags at them. Poor dovies would arise in a great clatter and Dad would feel much better. He never wanted to hurt them hence the used teabags. He just wanted them to shut up.
That got us thinking about how much the tree has grown in the five years since my parents left their apartment. It's now level with floor eight, the very top of the building. Perhaps a new occupant will look out at the tree, when the leaves are gone, and find fossilized tea bags hanging by their little strings and wonder, 'What the...?"
I know it's not likely but it made a charming picture. Better a teabag in a tree than a bear!
We, whichever child I was talking to started remembering how much my Dad hated mourning doves. He hated the way they cooed. There was a tree about level with his third floor balcony and the lovely gentle things would roost there and coo at him. Well, he took it personally.
In retaliation he would go out early in the morning or at dusk, whenever they were at coo, and sling used teabags at them. Poor dovies would arise in a great clatter and Dad would feel much better. He never wanted to hurt them hence the used teabags. He just wanted them to shut up.
That got us thinking about how much the tree has grown in the five years since my parents left their apartment. It's now level with floor eight, the very top of the building. Perhaps a new occupant will look out at the tree, when the leaves are gone, and find fossilized tea bags hanging by their little strings and wonder, 'What the...?"
I know it's not likely but it made a charming picture. Better a teabag in a tree than a bear!
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