With a friend like you, you need nerves of steel.

I have been on the internet for quite a few years. I started out on BBS�s, back in the old days before the internet. (you youngin�s won�t know what that is) Anyway, it has been a while. One of my oldest online friends I met in Powwow (a chat program sort of like ICQ) is Ralph from Texas. I guess we clicked because A) he did not try and pick me up, and B) he has a goofy sense of humour like me.

One year his father was talking about wanting to come to Nova Scotia to see the changing of the leaves and when the time came he was ill and couldn't� make the trip. So, I boxed up some leaves and sent it to him. (here is where the goofy part comes in) Ralph decided to send me a picture of him and his father enjoying the leaves.

The first picture was him and his father holding up the box (pretty tame) the second was a picture of him, he had fashioned a sort of loin cloth out of the leaves. He was standing there in nothing but this leaf loincloth. Too funny! That is just the sort of goofball thing he does.

So, when he told me he was sending me a �headpiece�, I was understandably nervous. When the package arrived I checked the customs sticker and sure enough it said �headpiece�. (no help there) To make matters worse, there is an old guy at the post office that always wants me to open my packages there, so he can see what I got. You see I have a bit of a history with receiving weird parcels, I am an extreme eBay junky. I have bought some pretty far out stuff on eBay and he always gets a kick out of it, like the donkey that shits cigarettes to name but one.

So, I am standing there with this package and he is looking at me expectantly, �Ah, Joe? I would love to open this now, but the guy who sent it has a sense of humour that you might not fully appreciate.� (in truth I was a little scared myself) I am riding home with the box in the front seat hoping beyond hope that my son isn�t home so I can open it, the suspense was killing me. I finally get it home, and this is what is inside.



I laughed so hard I almost pissed my pants, mostly from the relief. You got me with that one Ralph. I will have to come up with something that says �Nova Scotia�, to send back. Thanks for bringing a smile to my face, you always do.

The mind is the first thing to go.

I ran across one of my ramblings and I am not sure if I have blogged it yet. And since I am super lazy I will not search through the archives to find out. If I am repeating myself, then I apologize to the two people who actually read this thing.

When I was small we used to spend weekends at the cottage. Locharbre Lake. I was very small so I don�t remember a lot, but I do remember getting there. We would be driving along and all of a sudden, it seemed, we would come over the top of a hill and �voila� there it was. I remember that as soon as we saw it we would all cheer, �Locharbre!�, a half dozen kids in a station wagon, loaded to the roof with fishing rods, inner tubes, and camping gear. It was a beautiful lake and one of the few left that is truly clean. My aunt still has a cottage there and I always marvel at how clear the water is. From the end of the dock you can see clear to the bottom.

We thought it was just the best place there was. We would swim and fish, my father had a boat. We would have bonfires at night where we would roast marshmallow till we were sick and barbeque during the day and there were always visitors. I am sure my father was probably drunk as a skunk but, thankfully, I never noticed. I guess I was too young, and after so many years I guess you only remember the good times. At any rate, we had a ball. Even if our late night �nature� calls were to a two seater outhouse in the back yard. I never remember being scared though.

Years later (30) I lived in a rural community for a year and I was scared shitless to walk to my car in the dark. I was sure something (a bear) would leap out at me, tearing me to shreds before I reached the door. I couldn�t really enjoy the country. I found it was too dark and too quiet at night. I guess when you are small, you don�t know what can happen so you aren�t scared of what might happen.

Merry Christmas!

Hope everyone has a great one. And I didn't forget.....Day 12.

12 Drummers Drumming

One more day!

Pipers ~ Piping

Day 10

We are getting down to it, hope everyone is done of their shopping and can relax and wait for the big day.

Ten Ice Lords Leaping

Ladle Dancers?

Ok, so there is only eight....it was the best I could do.


CROCHET DOILY 8 LADIES DANCING

Given more time I suppose I could have come up with something better, but I am so busy baking night and day. I hope to be finished for good tonight. Wish me luck.

Day 8

Ok, first apologies on the boring submission for day eight. But when I searched for maids milking I somehow got a lot porn sites. You can just let your imagination run with that one.

Anyway, here's the only tastefull one I could come up with. Happy Day 8.

Eight Maids a Milking

Welcome to day 7

Count em.....
Seven Swans a swimmin'

On the sixth day of Christmas...


Six Geese a layin'

12 days of Christmas.....sort of.

The last couple of years I have been sending goofy emails for the 12 days of Christmas. This year I guess I got bored. I will list the 5 so far.

On the first day of Christmas....
(ok....stop singing, your scaring the bird)
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5

I guess I will post the rest as the days go by, if anyone has any suggestions, please feel free.

Is it just me?

I was at the grocery store today to pick up baking stuff. I also picked up some Christmas Crackers.




As I was going through the checkout the pre-pubescent checkout girl picked them up and squealed,

�Oh, how cute, what are they?�

�Uh, Christmas crackers?� I thought she was kidding.

�What do they do?�

Ok, she wasn�t kidding. �Two people each grab an end and when you pull it makes a cracking sound. Inside there is usually a toy, a hat and a joke of some kind.�

�How cool. What will they think of next?�

�How old are you anyway?� she didn�t hear me. One of her other equally youngish coworkers came sauntering by.

�Have you ever seen these?�

�Ya, they are Christmas crackers. I never tasted one but I heard they were good.�

I struggle not to lose my eyeballs in the back of my head. �You don�t eat them.� I again explain them to the second clerk.

�Cool, something new?�

At this point I give up on the two of them. I was hoping these kids were Amish or something but I guess this is proof yet again of just how old I am. Doesn�t anyone else know about these things or is it just me. (and the rest of the old fart population)

Christmas crackers were the best part of Christmas day when I was a kid. Everyone would get one as we sat around the table for Christmas dinner and we would help each other crack them open. The room would smell like sulphur when we were finished and we would all be wearing the stupid tissue hats, even my father.

I don�t ever remember a year that I didn�t have Christmas crackers, so how did these kids miss it? Makes you wonder what else kids today are missing out on.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Well the tree is up finally.



I went a little nuts this year, I think my trees get bigger every year. If that is the trend I think I might have to move next year to a bigger house.

Maybe this one?



I decided to add a train this year, it takes up room so under the tree doesn't look so bare. That can be depressing.

Diamonds are forever

Have you heard of this? If you haven't, there is an article in the Philadelphia Inquirer about turning your cremated loved ones remains into diamonds.

Each 1/4 karat stone would run you about four grand. If you wanted a full karat it would be around 22 grand. Aparently you can get 50-100 diamonds from one stiff.

How fucked up is that?

And another thing... do you really want to wear a ring that is made up of grandpa's rotted corps?

I got one word for ya...


EEW?

I'm up, I'm up!

I woke up frightfully early this morning, 7:10am. No idea why, but just couldn't get back to sleep. It is a strange wet morning, I went out for coffee and sat for a while on the porch and just listened to the rain. I check the thermometer in front of me, it�s 12 degrees Celsius. (I guess that�s about 54F)

I am restless, puttering about in the house, cleaning (yes I said cleaning) not accomplishing much but puttering about. A little cleaning here, read a few chapters in a book, take out the trash, sit on the porch, print out some pictures of the new grandbaby for the shower tomorrow.

Maybe I am just enjoying this early morning. The house is quiet (the monster sleeps) and no one in their right mind would call to ask me to do this or that. It�s now after nine and it�s still quiet, as soon as the monster wakes I think I will dig out the Christmas decorations.

My friend Tracey�s birthday is next weekend. Every year we get together at this time, I make hot wings (she loves my hot wings) and we watch Christmas movies. It has become sort of a tradition. Of course as we get older, we tend to eat more and conk out before we see too many of the movies. Tracey has a collection of Christmas movies that we add to every year. The first few years we did this it was no problem for us to stay up all night watching It�s a Wonderful Life, Scrooged, Miracle on 34th Street etc, etc,. It was usually her husband who would curl up on the floor and be snoring about ten minutes into the first movie. But we are getting a bit long in the tooth, so we now pick our most favorite movies to watch first, just in case we can�t make it to them all. Although it is a bit early I like to have the Christmas decorations up by then. It just sets the mood for the evening.

So I guess my day will consist of fighting with The Boy so I can get the decorations out of the closet in his room. A closet that he has spent the entire year throwing stuff into so now it looks like we might cause an avalanche if we touch anything. Oh well it will all be worth it (keep telling yourself that Evel) once the decorations are in place and the festive season begins.

Have a great day all.

Am I ready for this?

The other night, my son had his first hockey game in which checking was allowed. It sort of snuck up on us parents because for the first few games of the season there were a few kids that hadn�t gone through the checking clinic so it wasn�t allowed. I think maybe our kids might have been a little surprised by it too. For the first period our kids weren�t checking and were getting creamed by the opposing team. I have to tell you that half way through the second period the parents turned bloodthirsty. To the casual observer it probably didn�t sound good.

�What are you doing? Check him!� (I think I was screaming the loudest)

Finally our kids clued in after 5 goals were scored against them. They began to play more aggressively. It was an exciting game but I am not sure I was (or am) fully prepared for it. You see my son is small for his age. He is probably one of the smallest kids in his division and there are quite a few kids that are big for their age. Seeing my �baby� slammed against the boards was pretty gut wrenching but his saving grace is that he is fast and because he is small, can duck under most checks. He is a tough little guy.

When the game was over, we stood up to leave and there, on the ice, we could see where someone had spit up blood. I turned to one of the other parents and said,

�Ya know, it just isn't hockey till someone spits out a tooth.�





STOKED!

I am so stoked! My son got a goal tonight.And then, my litttle man checked a bigger kid against the boards, it was stunning.

Ramblings






I was sitting at work when this song came on. If you can�t hear it you might not have the right plug in or most likely I screwed up the whole process. At any rate, its Tracey Lawrence �I see it now�.

When The Boy was very little it was �our� song. He would look up at me lovingly and say �Dance Mommy?� and I would pick him up and we would twirl around the kitchen, living room or parking lot (wherever we happened to be at the time) and I would sing to him. It was times like that that kept the little monster alive.

Now I sit here thinking of it and my eyes mist. Where does the time go? He won�t dance in a parking lot with me anymore but he does in the living room and never fails to say �love ya� before saying good-bye, even if his friends are around. I don't� care what anyone says, I think he turned out all right.

My sister said something to me the other day about how I �treat� my son. She thinks that the way I speak to him will scar him later in life. I thought on this, and later that night I sat down with my son and we talked about it. I told him my sisters concerns and asked him how he felt. Well, he looked at me like I was a nut bar freshly escaped from the loonie bin.

As soon as I saw that look I laughed. I realized that what my sister hears is how I talk to him in her presence (typically a couple hours every two or three months) and usually after he has pestered me for half an hour on when we are leaving. My son has a tendency to show off and be a pest when we visit her or when she visits me. He is usually stuck to me like a cheap suit so I can�t really have a meaningful conversation with my sister. At which point I get irritated and send him packing.

So now I sit back and write this. How do I explain how we are when we are alone. I never really sat and analyzed it. I just take it for granted.

We never part company without saying �Love Ya� and that goes for phone conversations. After work we always sit on the couch and discuss our day. I listen to his music and he tolerates mine and sometimes we discover that we like some of the same music like Aerosmith and Ozzy Ozbourn. On the weekends we watch movies while curled up on the couch. I know that every single part of his body is ticklish as he knows that only my feet and neck are. Even though he is almost 12 he still enjoys the �tickle monster� (a slumbering beast (me) that, when disturbed, wakes to tickle him till he screams �uncle�) Sometimes we just �take off� and go for long drives and talk. He never goes to sleep without me tucking him in and kissing him. This certainly doesn't cover everything, but you get the picture.

Since he was a baby it has been just the two of us. I guess we relate to each other differently because of it. We are buddies. I had to be both mother and father. I did all the mother things (taking care of him when he is sick, making sure he eats right, brushes his teeth etc) as well as all the "dad" things (teaching him how to hit a baseball, how to spit, and how to defend himself) We can talk to each other, not just as mother and son, but as equals too.

How do you explain to someone that the snippets of conversation that they hear isn�t the whole picture? You know what? In the grand scheme of things �they� really don�t matter. My son knows that I love him, that is what matters. I shouldn�t (and don�t) give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks.

Subliminal cheer

When do you suppose it would be too early to start decorating for Christmas?

I was sitting here all day watching commercial after commercial about Christmas. Christmas decorating, Christmas dinners, Christmas presents and I wanted to jump up and start dragging out the old cardboard boxes crammed with decorations and start spreading the joy.

Now I am sitting here thinking, �Was I just programmed? Was there some sort of subliminal message in all those Christmas themed commercials? Possibly.

Or this could have something to do with it. We are back to the white stuff, with a little added freezing rain. (just to make it interesting)

Lest we forget.

Mom and I went to the war memorial today. It was a good day for it. Warm but gloomy.



My mother's brother, Desire, served in the war and we lay a wreath for him here.



We should remember these men and women all year, but I am ashamed to say we don't. I guess we just take too much for granted these days.

God's just messing with me.

Now I think God is just messing with me. This is a shot of my car today, the temperature is 13C. A foot of snow one day, and warm and sunny the next. Maybe He is just trying to ease us into it.