Moving Stuff

With the move to long-term contractual indebtedness, there has been a small wave of thing acquisition that canot go unmentioned, and not just the junior gin-soaked popinjay training kit. These are things that have worked and I recommend:

  • My Dolly: I was not aware that what I know as a dolly in Canada is a hand truck in the States. But there is no doubt aoub t the fact that the move was made on a Model PJD2223A Harper Nylon Dual Hand Truck (Jr). This thing was sixty bucks or so at the Home Depot and at any given time has move two rolled up futons, or a six foot tall computer desk or umpteen boxes of books. With a removable handle (bright yellow in my version) it flips from a two-wheel box jockey to a four-wheel table on wheels. It has saves both back and patience.
  • Bankers Boxes: In the good old days, you went to the NSLC and picked up wine boxes and rum boxes and moved your stuff in those. [Don’t try it with the PEILLC, however, as apparently those boxes are valuable assets that only a fool would think of wanting for free, thus earning you the locally classic yet over-used dirty look abaft.] Now, I am a man and I go and buy bankers boxes when I move. Not the big ones, either. The smaller letter sized one will do. Because they are all the same size and very sturdy you can stack a whack of them on your Harper Nylon Dual Hand Truck (Jr). And because you bought the small ones you can remove them without fear of hoisting an inadvertantly 400 lb one that wrenches the back. Slow and steady wins the race. And they also provide sensible storage for the stuff that does not see daylight.
  • The Scott Classic: Who the hell needs a Briggs and Stratton in the sub-urbs. The lawn I now own takes 15 minutes to mow. So I own a green Scotts Classic mower with a fancy green paint job and bright orange wheels. I puff about as much with a push gasoline mower but without the blue fog of exhaust. Cheaper to buy, cheaper to run and a brief nod to exercise before the self-inflicted prize of a cold drink.

Three smart sensible things. I am not usually like this. One thing I have not bought yet are contaps or tapcons to drill into the brick and secure the angled flag pole bracket for the front of the house. Houses ought to have flag poles. Especially when you have a 3×5 Louisiana with the pelicans on it.

The Flickering Light

More connection problems that are making me think that the modem is dying. Do modems die? I dutifully unplug, replug and reset it with a certain percentage of luck getting back on line. It reminds of days in small urban centre Poland when the phone rang, people shouted what sounded like “Tak, soo-ham!!” which I understand means “Yes, I am here!!” and then hangs up as only about one in seven connections were ever made. For $39.99 a month I should have better analogies springing to mind than eastern Europe of the immediate post-communist era.

Anyway, how would you know if your modem was dying?

Friday Chatting As Cats Glare

So I figured if I was qualified to act as judge and executioner over the life of a
cat
I was at least qualified to be amateur boy vet. Seems likely from what
you read on the internet that the old thing is anxious from the move, creating
alkaline pee and over eating. I’ve been doing that too so I am not slightly
sympathetic. Away with the all-night cat food buffet and in with the locking
them up with slightly acidified water. We’ll see. I know there are alkalined cat
lovers out there so I will not be grim or overly Nero-like with these decisions.
See you keep me on a moral path.

  • Update: The Flea writes good.
  • Gary wants you to know that he has a
    myspace blog
    now. I do not know if this is wise of him as there is a heck of
    a lot of flotsom and jetsom around the MySpace world but Gary will let us know.
    I would tell you but as a joke I set mine up in German just to see and now I get
    emails from teens in Leipzig whom I have no interest in having as mein
    Freunden
    .
  • On a fancy-grade whim, I bought one of these
    which I saw on deep discount. It is, as far as I can tell, is a junior
    gin-soaked popinjay training kit and pairs with the subterranian stash
    nicely. Suggestions for accessories welcome. I already have housed the pair of
    Greenock golf club whisky tumblers so you can rest easy on that account.

  • It appears that talking
    with terrorists
    is in fact what one does after all. Of course, we knew this
    and did not buy into the pre-post-post-9/11 thinking that conveniently forgets
    the IRA, ETA, the MPLA and every other acronymed militant insurgent radical
    political movement in human history. As these people are people in the
    neighbourhood and not cyborgs in a robot army,
    settlement and reconciliation at the end of the day is the only end game.

  • I am concerned for the lack of respect that imaginary mystic
    dwarves
    are getting these days.

So it is the end of another week
and another week’s worth of bullet points. I hope to be off to the Antique Boat Regatta
at some point on t’other side of the bridge as I wants to hear wee boats go
VVRRROOOOOOOOOOOM but it all depends on the weather.

Off-line-ish

As a result of the move, the same service has gone from solidly consistent to patchy.   No high-speed for the last 24 hours.   But maybe I bought the whole life package – so Bell Sympatico high-speed is reminding me there are other things in life.   So, thank you Bell Sympatico high-speed.  

I wonder if StatsCan check on the number of people cursing the dead screen as part of their internet stats update.

My Cat Appears To Be Malfunctioning


“Explain myself? I don’t have to frikkin’ explain myself…I’m a cat!”

As far as I can tell, I think there are humans on one side of the line and then there are plants and animals on the other. Our cats were mousers. They were brought in for a job and when we moved three and a half years ago to a mouse-free lifestyle, the cats found a way into the luggage. They are pushing seven now and life most early middle agers are starting to show signs…even leak once in a while.

When we first moved we deal with his 12th floor anxiety and a vet prescribed a buck a day kitty-valium. And the other one, the she, proved the old joke “When is a cat like a dog – when she is a bitch”. We bought catnip instead. Kept them stoned until the angstity one straightened out a bit. Now we have another problem and I am bracing for the “overnight stay” recommendation. I wonder if that will trigger the big needle response. Don’t get me wrong, this is a pretty good cat as cats go. The only trouble is he goes all over the place…no, that is unfair – he goes where it is most distasteful. That is a skill.

But I have standards. I will not have a cat that wears a diaper. I will not pay $500 buck. There are too many young cats in the minor leagues waiting for their break.

Margaret Elizabeth (Browning) Dawson

A single post today as a good friend’s mother, the lady I knew as Bronte, has passed away and, as she was a great fan of the web, I have been asked to create her Book of Condolences here.

Margaret Elizabeth Dawson née Browning

July 22, 1932-July 28, 2006

Bette died at home with dignity, as was her wish, after a four-month illness. Predeceased by her father, Earl George, mother Margaret McKirdy (née Wilson), brother Norman and infant son David. Loyal friend and neighbour, ardent feminist, environmentalist, proud employee of P&G, CBC listener and TTC patron who enjoyed the poetry of Robert Burns, military history and genealogy, but her passion was raising her children: Trevor (Dawn Zubrisky) and Laura (Wally Archibald) and cherishing her grandchildren: Jacob, Hayley, Samuel, Graham and Simon who will miss her many acts performed “with love”. She will be deeply missed by caring siblings: Marion (the late William Duffy), Irene (Jack Hammond), Bruce (Joan), Don (Shirley), Bill and many nieces, nephews and cousins. Peter has lost the greater part of his life with the passing of his devoted wife of 48 years.

Everyone who knew “Bronte” knows that her Legacy is Love. Rest in Peace.

Internment will take place at St. James Cemetery in Toronto where Bette will be reunited with David. In lieu of flowers, please make a donation to the charity of your choice. “Crossing the Bar” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson was one of her favorite poems and will be read as part of the service.

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For through from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

Please leave your thoughts and recollections for the family by clicking on the word “reply” above, entering your message and then clicking on the word “post”. Please email me at the email address genx40@gmail.com if that is easier or you have any digital photos you wish to share. I can add them to the comments on your behalf. This page will continue on the Internet as long as the family requests so that your comments can be shared with others who knew Bronte.

Western Swing

When the Red Sox play the AL West it is worse than interleague. First, they appear able to lose against the AL West. Second, when they do lose it happens at 2 am EST so you have wasted an evening and gotten a rotten sleep thrown in for good measure.

By the way – and milking the double entendre for all it is worth – playing a guitar after a couple of weeks of mandolin is very weird. There is all this space between the strings.

Sunday Without Travel

I am sufficiently dimwitted to have not twigged to the fact that this weekend is a single break amongst six where I am not on the road in some way or another. How luxurious is the ability to do nothing. And I have. But this is something you really ought to try. Frozen scallops. Get your morter and pestle out and fine grind some good crackers like stone ground or water crackers. Then make a paste of chives, olive oil and garlic. Hot sauce, too. Mix in the cracker dust until you have a glom. Pat dry the scallops and roll them in the tasty glom. Put in a pan and bake in a 500 F oven for three to five minutes. Lordy lordy. Even the scallops are grateful for having given up their bivalvey lives in such style.

And yet I missed the 25th Northeast Dulcimer Symposium.