Murder

Police in Fredericton New Brunswick have uncovered a potentially deadly but ill-conceived plot to annihilate an entire family over the Christmas holidays. At the center of the gruesome discovery are suspects Mac and Julie Haynes – an otherwise quiet and peace loving couple. The “fowl” deed was to be carried out on Christmas Day and apparently the plan evolved several months ago under the clever guise of an invitation to a family wedding.

The out of town guests were lured into the nefarious plot by attending the wedding where the suspects could study the eating habits of their innocent victims. Early reports also indicate that the couple even lured unsuspecting family members to a local soup kitchen but their evil scheme was foiled by too many witnesses.

It has been determined that the weapon of choice was intended to be the turkey which ironically was prepared by the suspect’s son and an out of town guest. While the murder weapon was being prepared the pair continued to weaken their prey by serving small but lethal and delicious hors d'oeuvres. It is also believed that Mr. Haynes had stockpiled several mincemeat pies as a backup plan.

The crime scene was found littered with a virtual arsenal of potentially lethal weapons; the fridge and freezer loaded with frozen lasagna, pies and various dessert squares. The crime nearly became international in scope when a visiting Swedish couple narrowly avoided being served a potentially deadly dish of meatballs and sauerkraut. 

Ultimately the guests staying at the suspect's home managed to escape after one last attempt to wipe them out with a breakfast of bagels, onions, cream cheese and smoked salmon. The unsuspecting victims were last seen fleeing the crime scene with suitcases that may or may not have been booby trapped with concealed confectionery. There is no word on whether or not this plan succeeded.

In a bizarre twist, Jacqui Pierce - the sister of Mr. Haynes apparently learned of the evil plans afoot and mounted a counter attack on Boxing Day with a full on assault of seafood chowder. After several bowls of the irresistible chowder followed by a staggering array of desserts Mr. Haynes suffered only minor heartburn. However there were reports of collateral damage among family members but amounting only to mild indigestion.

Last seen wearing aprons and oven mitts, the reprehensible couple remain at large and are considered to be armed and desperate. If spotted approach with caution and DO NOT - repeat DO NOT accept any offers of food no matter how tempting as these people will stop at nothing. They are reported to be in possession of large quantities of leftovers and are not afraid to use them. Police suspect that this will not be their last murderous attempt and have issued a warning to family members to be suspicious of any future festive gatherings. 

On a more positive note - despite the twisted plans of this devious couple a family spokesman is happy to report that a Merry Christmas was enjoyed by all.

A Christmas Spectacle

When we moved to our new house about four years ago there was a very nice older lady living at the corner of our street. We didn't know her very well but always waved and said hello when we saw her out and about. Her name was Mrs. Slipp.

She was a widow and lived alone but her family members were always around and took good care of her. As our first Christmas approached we were surprised and thrilled to see a brilliant animated display out on her front deck. Four dashing skaters with blades flashing and legs pumping as they seemed to chase each other around the deck with scarves flying in the wind! It was really something to see and it lit up the whole neighborhood.

The festive display of the skaters was made even more spectacular by the stark contrast of our miserable attempt at putting up our dim, energy saving Yuletide wreath. It hung forlornly between our two front windows and you had to actually squint to see it - even in the dark. Other neighbors had yards festooned with brightly colored lights and flood lamps illuminating decorated front doorways but nothing compared to those skaters out there in the crisp night air.

We looked forward to seeing the skaters each year and always thought of it as a herald of Christmas. But as with all good things - this too came to an end. Mrs. Slipp passed away a few years ago and while we were saddened we couldn't help but wonder what would become of the skaters. The house was empty for the first winter and although we missed that vibrant display we tried to make up for it by putting a little more effort into decorating our own house and yard.

We put lights around the front kitchen window and decorated the porch rails with garlands and ribbons. We even had some help from "Victor" who spent the Christmas season on a ladder holding up a string of lights - you all remember Victor don't you? Alas even he could not measure up to the memory of those wintery skaters.

The second year after Mrs. Slipp was gone the house was rented and we wondered again - would the skaters return to brighten our winter spirits? But it was not to be - the girl who stayed there, although a relative, was a busy student and once again our street was left literally in the dark.

Last year the house was put up for sale and family members gathered over several weekends to clean the place out and prepare for new owners. I went over to talk with Mrs. Slipp's son and the conversation turned to her famous Christmas display. I asked him what had become of it and he said some family member would probably take it when the sale was final. I half jokingly told him if no one wanted it I would be willing to buy it. But sadly I feared we had seen the last of those skaters...

Another Christmas passed and spring came. I was in the yard one day just puttering around when to my surprise our old neighbor's son strolled up the driveway and asked if I was still interested in the skaters? Was I!? I practically jumped for joy and asked him how much he wanted. "How about nothing?" was his reply and nothing I could do could convince him otherwise. The skaters were mine for the taking.

It turns out that no one in the family wanted the skaters half as much as I did. I helped him carry them over to my shed and then ran in the house to tell Julie - who was even more pleased than I was if that was possible.

A Christmas miracle in the month of May? Why not? So we are now the proud owners of the skaters and once again our street is ablaze with lights and action for all to see and enjoy. We don't have a front porch so we had to build a makeshift wooden frame that is an eyesore in the daytime but a dazzling sight in the dark as you will see if you get a chance to drop by.

But in case you can't make it, here is a brief video that only begins to capture the spectacle of the skaters in action - complete with a festive Yuletide rendering of "Jingle Bells" which when you hear it will help to explain the picture above.  Enjoy!

For those of you who can't view the video above just click HERE.

The Red Skillet

Admit it. You have all eaten there and loved it and I bet you ordered the hot hamburg platter didn't you - with gravy. Some of you may have even worked there - or at least a place very like it, I know I did. My one week stint in a hair net and apron was at the Kmart Grill in Calgary, Alberta as part of my manager trainee course. I cooked, served behind the counter, wiped tables and cleaned the grill and hated every minute. As a result, I have a lot of respect for those folks who still serve up what continues to be a reasonable facsimile of real food. You can't get liver and onions at McDonald's...

On a quick side note, mentioning that aromatic delicacy reminds me of the late Bill Yates - my old boss at Cabot Shipping Supplies. Bill was a dedicated patron of The Red Skillet and when he was on the road he would seek out a Zellers in every town - his meal of choice being liver and onions. I had the dubious pleasure of dining there with Bill a few times - I say dubious because, well you had to know Bill. He took a lot of ribbing from his partners who always wined and dined at The Ritz or the Top o' the Town... but Bill was a man who knew value when he saw it - and so do I.

There was nothing special about the Red Skillet - they just served up simple fare - hamburger platters, milk shakes, pies and fries and breakfast like you would eat at home. On real plates with real knives and forks... and coffee in a real cup. And you could sit wherever you wanted to - slide into a nice cozy booth or swivel on a stool.

The staff was almost always made up of women of a certain age, who wore support hose and sensible shoes and called you Honey and Dear. They made small talk and made you feel right at home - don't you wish there was still a restaurant like that around here?

Well there is! But alas - not for long. It is no longer called The Red Skillet but Zellers still serve a very respectable $3.99 senior breakfast special every Saturday morning and I highly recommend that you go there before they close and all that is left is a quick egg on a bun at Tim Horton's. At $3.99 for a full breakfast with a bottomless cup of coffee there should be a line up to get in, but where is everybody? Oh yeah, they are all lined up at Tim's - still in their cars. Shame on them.

There is no drive through at The Red Skillet - you still have to make your way there past the counters full of housewares and seasonal discount bargains, then take a left at ladies wear and there it is just past the luggage display. Seat yourself and relax, have a look at the plastic laminated menu - the waitress will be right with you.

I'll say it one more time - go eat at Zellers before it is too late. It's still the only restaurant in town where you can get a full service meal and pick up some underwear and a six pack of tube socks on the way out!

Oh - and don't forget to leave a nice generous tip for the waitress. She needs it more than you do.

Charles Dickens' Beard

How did Charles Dickens' beard end up in my garbage can? How did the author of the English language's most beloved novels appear to regress in age from a venerable bearded icon to a clean shaven youth? How indeed...

First of all, there is no need to clarify that I am not speaking literally about the long dead real Charles Dickens - my astute readers would already have come to that conclusion. No - I am referring to a small replica of him that used to hang in the kitchen and now hangs in my bedroom. OK - let's be honest and call it a doll, although "finger puppet" is the correct term if one must be precise.

I have had my Charles Dickens puppet for a few years now - he was a Christmas gift and I have often admired him as he gazed down from above the kitchen window. After recently relocating him to my bedroom I couldn't help but feel that something about him had changed - was it my imagination or was Charles actually looking younger and more dapper? Had he lost some weight?

A few weeks ago I noticed a small reddish brown object on my bedroom floor - it looked like a piece of cloth, maybe a piece of lint from the laundry basket?  I basically ignored it and assumed it would get swept up or vacuumed - eventually.

Then a few days later I saw it again in the hallway outside the bathroom door - sort of kicked it aside wondering again what it could be. Apparently Julie had also been seeing this little bit of flotsam and assumed it was something of mine - just like I assumed it was something of hers.

Not that we are complete slobs but both of us kept seeing this little thing around the house for what seemed like weeks... it seemed to be more than just a piece of trash so that is why I think we both left it alone.

Finally I could take it no more and asked Julie "What is that little brown piece of stuff that keeps hanging around?" She of course was just about to ask me the same thing so I finally picked it up and put it on my dresser because it still looked like it might be something. But neither of us knew what...

After moving it around my dresser and getting increasingly annoyed with it - at this point it looked more like a cloth bread bag tab than anything else, I finally decided to throw it out. So into the garbage it went and I never gave it another thought.

That is until about a week later when I happened to be looking at Charles in his new location just above my bedroom window and suddenly realized why he looked so much younger and trimmer than his usual self.  He had no beard! Then it suddenly struck me what that strange shaped little piece of cloth was all that time - it was Charles Dickens' beard!  It obviously had come off when I moved him.

I wondered what I could do to restore him to his former bearded self and was considering using a felt marker to draw him a beard or gluing some yarn on his chin. That was when I remembered that I had so callously thrown his beard in the garbage.  Now once again I must insist that we are not the most fastidious when it comes to house cleaning but I knew I had thrown that little beard out and something told me it just might still be in the bathroom wastebasket.

So to make a long story even more disgusting I decided to dig down to the bottom of that overflowing receptacle, past the wadded up Kleenex, empty toilet rolls and used Q-Tips. But my search was not in vain - and there at the bottom was that now familiar little piece of cloth that suddenly looked exactly like what it was - Charles Dickens' beard.

I still have it on the shelf in my room and have every intention of gluing it back on - hopefully that will happen before spring cleaning comes along - I don't want to go through this all again. Now where did I put that glue gun...

Fredders

I learned of the passing of a little old friend of mine this week - apparently of a massive heart attack. I first met Fred about three years ago when I began delivering Meals on Wheels to his apartment just outside of Fredericton. To be honest, he was not the most pleasant soul but Elaine, the lady who shared his apartment with him more than made up for it.

Truth be told - Fred, or "Fredders" as she liked to call him, could be down right belligerent and cantankerous at times.  But she saw only the good in him - always telling me what a good singer and dancer he used to be in his youth. I always chatted with Elaine while Fred either ignored me or glanced suspiciously at me over his shoulder. Nevertheless, she always insisted that he thought the world of me. He would wait for my arrival every week and began to get agitated if I was late.

Elaine is not in the best of health herself but she worried constantly over Fred's every little complaint and gave him the best of care. She kept him warm and always made sure he didn't get caught in a draft as he was quite frail. Between the two of them they smoked a pack a day until Elaine decided to quit for the good of their health. I guess that is why I was so shocked when I learned of his sudden passing.

Fredders may be gone but I am sure I will continue to listen to Elaine's stories about his many virtues and talents. He could whistle and sing! He could dance! And he was pretty! Sometimes he would even fly about the room and perch on her shoulder. That's right - and if you haven't figured out yet that Fredders was a bird those last few sentences must have surprised you. Fredders was a cockatiel - and he belonged to a Meals on Wheels client of mine. He was quite old for a cockatiel, almost 30 - the average lifespan being 15 years. So he had a nice long life.

He was a great companion for Elaine and I am not mocking them in any way. I had always meant to bring him a special treat along with her meal and now it is too late. But wait - there may be a chance to make amends. It turns out that Fredders had not made any prior arrangements for his untimely demise and since Elaine is a shut-in, I have been asked if I would be willing to give him a proper burial. I said that it would be my pleasure and I have reserved a spot for him in my back yard - funeral arrangements are pending.

So what more can I say except Rest in Peace Fredders - you were indeed a pretty bird!

Priceless

As the summer draws to an end I often find that nostalgia sets in and I am reminded of those long ago days when "back to school" still meant something. We had great summers back in the sixties and it sure was sad to see them end. But at that time of year there was also a sense of adventure and rebirth  - an opportunity to show the world who you could be. Or in this particular case - show the world who three people could be.

I hung out in those days with my lifelong pals Dan and Rick. All summer long we listened to rock and roll and dreamed of being in a "group" - meaning of course, a rock band. One of us even made it into an actual group and the other two were content to play the role of being "with the band". You would be surprised how easy it was to get into a dance in those days by just carrying a drum or an amp in through the door. Worked every time...

But the summer of '67 was special as anyone who was there will recall. Movies have been made about it and songs have been written and now my story must be told.  I think the three of us knew we were never actually going to be in a group together but that didn't stop the dream. If we couldn't actually be in a group we could look like one couldn't we? So the week before school off we went to downtown Fredericton to make the dream a reality - sort of.

First stop of course was Herbie's Music Store to browse the racks of new records and see what the latest fads were. Then off to Levine's Department Store where the matronly salesclerk must have been thrilled as she outfitted us in three handsome beige corduroy blazers. Next stop I believe was Zeller's where we found three bright red shirts and three pairs of sharply creased black slacks. But our outfits were not finished yet - something was missing... something that would make our look complete. But what? Off we went to the somewhat pricier downtown trendy men's stores in search of the elusive item that would make three mere individuals into that magical unit - the group.

Our budget was running low. Remember, we did this all on our own with nothing but lawn mowing and paper route money and maybe a few "Back to School" dollars from our parents. Luckily we already had three pairs of matching footwear or "desert boots" as they were called in those days.

So after checking out Capital Men's and Boy's and The Royal Stores we were starting to despair that our look would never be complete. Then in utter resignation we wandered into that last haven of desperate downtown shoppers - Chippin's Clothing Store. As we listlessly browsed through the aisles of rubber boots, belts and suspenders we knew we had hit rock bottom when we suddenly saw them... the fashion item that would set us apart from the crowd - forever.

We knew we had found our look! The cigar smoking salesman behind the counter agreed with us and assured us they were made of the finest polyester blend available and they just happened to be on sale. And size was no problem as they came in only one size. Imagine our joy as we headed home assured that come Monday morning and the first day of school - heads would turn.

And turn they did. All four hundred of them it seemed. What a sight we must have been strolling onto the school ground... who could these sharply dressed strangers be? Why with hair combed down over our foreheads in fashionable bangs and all dressed alike in shades of black, red and beige we could have been anybody or even somebody - we could have been a "group"!

And for that brief moment in time we were a group - we were "The Dickies". What better name for three teenagers wearing black turtleneck dickies to the first day of school on a warm September morning? A few of the more gullible younger students even approached us to ask if we were indeed forming a group. We played it cool and basically said no comment...

So that is the story of the dickies. We never did get around to actually forming a group with actual instruments but we had our 15 minutes of fame as they say. Thank God there were no smart phones or digital cameras in those days - or maybe I am wrong about that. On second thought I would love to see a picture of those three would be rock stars on that bright September morning. Or better yet, I would love to see the looks on those 400 faces as the Dickies walked fearlessly up that hill... that would be as they say - priceless.

Cornhill

Imagine an oasis in the middle of the fields and forests of rural New Brunswick and that is an apt description of Cornhill Nursery just outside of Petticoadiac - our destination this past week for a well deserved getaway from the every day routine. It was a warm day but as I sat down in a cool secluded spot I knew we had made the right choice for a pleasant day trip. I was a little tired after the long drive but the friendly yet somehow familiar surroundings immediately put me at ease and I felt right at home.

As I took my comfort in the quiet solitude I couldn't help but admire the tasteful artwork of various local artisans. The walls were decorated with beautiful paintings and creative wall hangings crafted from what appeared to be indigenous materials. Light filtered down from the skylight above and augmented the pleasing architecture all around me. A soft summer breeze drifted by as I was lulled by the sound of nearby running water...

I could actually feel the pressures of the day drain away as I started to drift into a state of complete relaxation. The smell of the fresh cut flowers made me want to linger but there was so much to see and do. In my reverie I could hear what sounded like the droning of bees... or was it the ceiling fan? I heard the distant rap-rap-rapping of what sounded like a woodpecker... but no - it was more like someone knocking. "Be right out!" I quickly replied as the spell was broken.

I quickly flushed and splashed some cool water on my face as I took one more wistful look around. If the rest of Cornhill Nursery proved to be as pleasant and welcoming as their bathroom (and it did) I knew that I was in for a treat. I recommend this trip to anyone who like me, has an appreciation for the finer things in life.

An Open and Shut Case

Case Number: VT 05/04/01/3462

Incident: Gastronomic Incident
Reporting Officer: Constable Meehan
Date of Report: 12 August 2012

At about 1040 hours on 12 August 2012, I received an urgent call from a Mrs. Judith Haynes of 30 Brighton Ct. regarding a suspected domestic incident at her residence. Mrs. Haynes said she returned from church at approx. 1030 hours Sunday morning and noticed a peculiar smell in the house. She smelled smoke and began to panic as she suspected a K-911 (kitchen break-in) had occurred. Upon gaining entry to the scene of the incident I was struck by a strong smell of garlic and onions and some other smell I could not quite recognize. There was a frying pan on the stove with remnants of what appeared to be a strange green material.

I conducted a survey of the scene and found several suspected weapons - a fork, two knives, and a spatula. There were no signs of forced entry into the refrigerator so I knew it was an inside job. I took several photographs of the evidence and then surveyed the rest of the house. That was when I discovered her husband, lying on the couch and unresponsive but with a satisfied smile on his face. There was a plate on the coffee table with a greasy smear of bacon, a few crumbs and the unmistakable remnant of a piece of green tomato. Suddenly I recognized that smell in the kitchen and knew that this would be an open and shut case. After all, my old man had suffered from the same strange addiction. It was the start of the fried green tomato season and I knew we could expect a few more calls of this sort - happens every year.

I obtained a sworn statement from Mrs. Haynes that she would keep an eye on her husband's diet and provided her with the case number and Information Leaflet 99/07 ("Living with a Tomaholic"). I entered the report details into the station database as another seasonal gastronomic incident. Just before heading back to the precinct I made a last minute search of the general vicinity as we had reports of a chicken being held in the area without a permit. I went to the garden shed - slowly opened the door and then quickly shut it again. Like I said - an open and shut case. End of report.

Now We Are Sixty*

When I was one I had just begun

When I was ten I was only ten

When I was twenty I had plenty 

When I was thirty I was flirty

When I was forty - Lordy Lordy

When I was fifty I was nifty 

But now I am sixty and clever as clever 

I think I'll be sixty for ever and ever!

*with apologies to A.A. Milne

PBJ

What is a person to do? We read labels, count calories, measure daily percentages - all in an endless quest for good health and immortality; when all we really want is food that tastes good and is good for you. Well, I think I have found it. And it was right under our noses all along - right there in our lunch pails in fact.

Remember lunch pails? Now I don't want to get off topic too much, but there is a smell I miss. The smell of opening a slightly warm lunch pail at school and smelling everything in there all mixed together - baloney sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, an apple, home made macaroon cookies and maybe even a hard boiled egg still in the shell - with some salt twisted up in wax paper - all courtesy of Mom. And wash that all down with a nice glass of warm milk or if you were lucky - warm chocolate milk! And while I am at it - whatever happened to lunch pails anyway? And I don't mean those fancy Roy Rogers or Elvis Presley vanity lunch boxes - I mean a real metal lunch pail with the hinged rounded top where you kept your thermos. Of course even those were a step above the humble lard pail but when I close my eyes and imagine lunch time at Summerhill School - it is a lard pail that I see... and smell.

Now where was I? Oh yeah - the perfect food. Ladies and gentlemen - I give you the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And this is scientific too - I have read all the labels and done all the research so you can take my word for it. Peanut butter is the perfect food. It is low in sodium for the hyper-tense and has very little sugar for those you who are of the diabetic persuasion. What about calories you ask? Well I am pretty sure we all need those to survive so no problem there - but they do have a 25% less fat variety which I actually prefer, or you can just go easy.

And now for a short word about jam. Just like my preference for tea (click here) I prefer the cheaper brands of jam. I don't want half the sugar and double the fruit - I just want sticky, gloppy jam. You will find it down on the bottom shelf - it comes in two flavors, strawberry and raspberry. And the redder the better.

So there you have it folks - the perfect food. And to make things even simpler here is a short shopping list for the next time you go to the store: 1.) Peanut butter 2.) jam and 3.) bread. If you don't have the recipe I have that for you too: Take two slices of bread (home made would be nice but let's not get carried away) and apply a liberal amount of peanut butter to one slice. Add a layer of red, sticky jam and cover with the second slice. Press everything together firmly, wrap in wax paper and seal in a metal can for about 4 hours. Repeat until healthy.

Friends and Aliens

This past week I happened to run into an unusual number of old friends that I have obviously lost touch with. What with spending so much time at work and around the house I guess I just haven't been keeping up with them and it was (sort of) nice to catch up on all the news.

I haven't seen some of these folks for a long time and I was mildly curious to learn what they have been up to. Well, to be honest I was kind of a "captive audience" but I thought it only polite to at least appear interested - after all, I have known these people for years and indeed I have grown up with some of them. You probably know some of them too...

I was amazed at how familiar yet strange their faces were, some looking a little older - some even apparently have had some "work" done. Some have been away on vacation and had the pictures to prove it, but their holiday photos revealed a little too much extra weight and no shortage of cellulite. A couple of the photos also revealed a few balding issues (was that a toupée?) and more than a few wrinkles! There is just no hiding that dye job and if she loses any more weight she will turn into an x-ray. And I am certainly not one to judge, but should some of these women even BE out in public without their make up?

I am not one to tell tales and spread gossip but it seems that "she" has been seen around a lot recently without "him" anywhere in sight. And who does she think she is fooling dressing like she is twenty when we all know she is fifty if she is a day! And I was only slightly shocked to learn that a couple of them have recently come out of the closet. We all knew about "him" but what about "her" - did anybody see that coming?

I don't mean to judge but I couldn't help notice that "she" is obviously pregnant and after her breakup with "him" how can she show her face in public? And him right there in plain sight with her best friend and all those new babies? I was not surprised that she is rumored to be hitting the bottle again... but I was saddened to learn that he is suffering from a mysterious disease and not long for this world. Now if it wasn't for the two headed baby giraffe and the space aliens in the Whitehouse I guess you might think I was being rather mean and judgmental... but I am innocent of both charges.

The only thing I am guilty of is spending too much time waiting in line at the Superstore reading all the latest 'scandal sheets' as they used to be called. Nothing much has changed - they are still reporting on all the latest fad diets, alien invasions, cheating spouses and what passes for movie stars these days. And while we are on the subject - just who are all these Kardashian women anyway? Talk about space aliens...

So now you know that these "friends" of mine are merely faces on magazine covers meant to entice us into the exciting and lurid world that most of us will thankfully never have to endure except in graphic headline form. Next time I go shopping I think I'll stick to eight items or less, keep my head down and head for the express lane.

Little Johnny

I have a confession to make. I have never had the benefit of a formal education - sex education that is. I missed out on that opportunity by about a year and I am glad I did. Because I learned about sex the old fashioned way - by sniggering and whispering with other dirty minded lads just like me. We learned about sex the way it was meant to be learned - from dirty jokes.

Dirty jokes were a total mystery to an innocent kid like me. I always remembered the punchlines but not the jokes, and I knew they were dirty - I just didn't know why. But that didn't stop me from chuckling knowingly with all the other ten year olds...

These dirty jokes were usually popularized by the much envied Johnny - otherwise known as Little Johnny, Dirty Johnny or sometimes Johnny Eferfast (it took me years to catch on to that one). Johnny was the master of the sly sexual innuendo and for a kid who we considered to be a contemporary of ours he was quite the man of the world.

Little Johnny could order an ice cream sundae and keep a straight face while tricking the waitress into innocently asking if he would like his nuts crushed? He would delight us by getting some unsuspecting kid to say "Mother May I" and then spell "cup"... oh how we roared!

If an old lady on the bus suddenly remembered she forgot to buy some pain relievers and shouted "Oh my Aspirins!" Johnny would bravely yell "If your ass burns - then stick it out the window" while we howled with laughter! He may have even sometimes been the butt of his own jokes but we secretly all wanted to be just like him. Johnny could put strangers, parents and even teachers in their place with his ribald pseudo innocence.

When the teacher asked someone to give an example of two abstract nouns (look it up) - in the blink of an eye Johnny would knowingly reply "Your tits". When he daringly asked "What word starts with F and ends with UCK?" we were both thrilled and shocked until Johnny said "a firetruck." Oh if only we dared to be as slick as Johnny... he was better than bad - he was good! Johnny could get a whole classroom of boys to wet themselves just by getting you to repeat a simple phrase like "rubber balls and liquor". As I recall that one had something to do with Marilyn Monroe in the bathtub but the sexual confusion didn't bother us - we were too busy rolling on the floor.

And finally Johnny taught us all to appreciate the finer things in life like poetry when he recited "There was a young man from Nantucket" and musical theater when he sang "She was riding down the road doing 90 miles an hour when the chain on her bicycle broke"... if you don't know the endings then I am afraid your education is lacking too.

I don't know if Little Johnny is still around or not but I kind of suspect he is. It must be tough for him in these days of the internet and sex education in schools. But I think that as long as there are ten year old boys, and as long as there are four letter words and boobs, Little Johnny will always have a willing audience. They may have put sex education in the schools but Little Johnny keeps it on the playground - where it belongs.

Laceologist

I have recently started learning some new tricks at work - these are ordinary mundane tasks being taught to me by very competent staff members who have been doing this job for years. And like most things in life, what seems simple can be very complicated when it must be explained in minute detail. What I am learning is how to microfilm documents. Simple right? Sure it is - just take a document and take a tiny picture of it. What could be more direct and straight forward? Do this often enough and soon you will be called a "Micrographics Technician". Of course there are processes and procedures to follow and that is where the real fun starts.

But wait a minute! Let's not talk about being a Micrographics Technician - let's talk about becoming a Laceologist. Imagine, if you will, learning the complicated procedures and techniques involved in tying your shoes at any age let alone my advanced stage of life. Also imagine you have never worn or even seen shoes before and I think you will see where this is going... welcome to a day in the life of a would be Laceologist.

We will start you off with some simple sneakers and some big sloppy loops just to get you used to the concept of lacing, OK? So just put on some of these training sneakers and grab some practice laces - I'll be back later to see how you are making out. (Jeopardy Theme Music...)

OK, first of all I should have mentioned that these are all left sneakers - I guess I assumed you knew the right sneakers were on the other shelf. No problem - happens all the time. And these are all size 4 female sneakers. Oh and the laces you have there are for hockey skates but you have the basic concept down so let's move on. That's enough training for now anyway - we are way behind in our lacing orders so we will set you up at a lacing station this afternoon.

Now - there are 80,000 pairs of unlaced shoes in the warehouse and 160,000 pairs of laces - so time for a quick peek at the inventory database so you can find the correct shoes and match them up with the correct laces. You will find the shoes have been entered into the database according to style, size, material, and color. These have to be matched up to the appropriate laces which are sorted by length, width, color and eyelet style and are stored at our other warehouse across town in a completely different database. But don't worry - we have a work-around for that. You will catch on as you go, so carry on and I will see you tomorrow.

Good morning - I see you finished lacing 800 pairs of those brown Oxfords. Sorry - I should have told you that order was cancelled. I guess the database wasn't updated - computers eh? Just unlace them and see me after lunch about order #2009-14-F-48 for those Nike sneakers - apparently the idiot we had working here last month laced them all with #46734 rounds instead of #B88-R flats - what an amateur!

By the way - you are doing a great job on the lacing line but some of your orders have been going out with the laces tied in a counter-clockwise single loop. Oops - guess I forgot to mention those orders were supposed to be clockwise and double looped. I'm sorry about that but we are just so back-logged - you will get the hang of it... no problem.

And how is that paperwork going? Did I mention the paperwork? No? Oh damn - I thought someone told you about the on-line status reports and inventory control system. Just enter the shoe data in the appropriate column according to order number, delivery date, size, color, style and cross reference the lacing data according to length, width, material and lacing pattern - either American Standard Zigzag, European Straight or the Shoeshop Quicklace.

I think you are getting the hang of it so time to move on to our new updated inventory system which is being installed this afternoon. And the new Lace-o-Matics are being delivered next week so there will be some training sessions when we have time. Meanwhile - we have a backlog of 4000 pairs of army boots for Base Gagetown. The Dept. of National Defense uses a separate database and a completely different top secret military lacing pattern so forget everything you have learned up until now.  So it goes...

Well - I have to admit that becoming a Micrographics Technician is nowhere near as difficult as becoming a Laceologist and to be honest I am really enjoying myself. There is a lot to learn but my trainers are very patient and kind. Who says you can't teach an old dog how to tie his shoes? Just watch me!

I am going elsewhere...

I am trying an excellent way of getting the most important part of my life and seriously interested in this category.  The latest version of my favorite medium has really been possible and I think it will be able to make money.

You may have had some good ideas that are not the first time since you were going to be able to make sure you don't have any problems. Well, I think that you will find that you can find some great times in the future. We all know that the best way forward is going on with the same way as you can do... why not?
How can we expect to find the rat and then click on the Internet?

Maybe the first time you visit your local area, which is the only way of preventing the same thing as the next level - you are well worth looking for people who are interested in joining the team.

I hope that you will find that I have been very successful in this email.  You may also enjoy the rest of the day and the next few days later in life.
Thanks for visiting my favorite things - testing new playbook and I think it might seem very good.  This blog I have been working on was really fun to do, I didn't have to write it - I just thought that you'd like to see what happens when the computer is an amazing experience.
Thank you very much for sharing this weekend. Yes.

Keesa Me Goodnight

I am sitting in my green chair in my bedroom where I write most of my blog entries. As I stare across the room waiting for inspiration to strike, I notice I have two things hanging on the wall - one is a poster of John Lennon and the other is a plastic Topo Gigio doll. I have had the Lennon poster for about 20 years but I have had Topo since 1965 - you can do the math.

I just realized that Topo Gigio has been with me most of my life - just hanging around wherever I go. He has been through junior high with me, as well as high school and university. He was there before I met my wife and before my children were born. Before the internet, before the moon landing and even before color TV!

I bought Topo when a group of school friends (some of whom were girls) went to a Topo Gigio movie one weekend at the Playhouse. It must have been a big deal because in the lobby they were selling novelties like pictures, posters etc. I guess I was a big spender in those days because I bought myself a little souvenir - maybe to impress those girls? Who knows.

I don't really know why I have kept Topo all these years. Kind of a good luck charm, a touchstone of sorts to a simpler time? Maybe it is just a nice reminder of when something as simple as a hand puppet could captivate our collective imagination.

Actually no one had ever seen a puppet quite as realistic as Topo Gigio used to appear on live TV. He used to pick up objects with his hands and even turn pages in a book. We had no idea that it took 4 puppeteers dressed in black against a black curtain to make him appear so lifelike. And who can forget how at the end of his act he would always climb up and ask Ed to kiss him good night. Or in Topo Gigio's Italian accent it was more like "Eddie... keesa me goodnight."  Take a look at the little video below and see what I mean.

If the video doesn't work you can always watch this clip on YouTube or if you are ever in Chicago how about enjoying some fine dining at the Topo Gigio Restaurant  - or better yet, why not visit Topo's Facebook page. And while you are there be sure to click "Me Gusta"... I just did.

And now I know why I have kept Topo around all these years - I just "like" him...

Sonos

I thought I knew what love was. I thought I was a happily married man, I thought I was fulfilled and content - and then I met her. I have only known her for less than a week and already I know I can never live without her. I have been seeking her and dreaming of her most of my adult life and now she is mine. Fortunately Julie not only understands but shares my fatal attraction to this sleek little beauty. And before I go any further let me explain that "she" is my new stereo system.

I have had numerous stereo systems over the years ranging from a Zellers all-in-one Korean import to a variety of respectable name brand components. The vogue used to be stacks of interconnected turntables, tape decks, receivers, amps and equalizers - all feeding into huge refrigerator sized speakers. I used to love to get down behind a cabinet literally crawling with wires and plug them all in, splice speaker wires and run them under couches and rugs, over door frames. I used to fancy myself an audiophile and I would pore over manuals, compare decibels, hertz and watts and twiddle dials and knobs endlessly. Then computers came along and I ran even more wires to connect yet more input – drilling holes through walls so we could connect to our beloved stereo. But no more... now there is Sonos.

What or who is Sonos you ask? Well - it is an almost miraculous, totally wireless music system that is controlled from your laptop or any wireless device. It is a breeze to set up and the software is almost eerily intuitive in anticipating your next wish. Want to play music stored on any computer in the house? No problem. Want to stream live radio from virtually anywhere in the world? Piece of cake. Or subscribe to a variety of music services and play any music you can think of - instantly. Done and done!

Now all of this would be more than enough on its own - but throw in room-filling, crystal clear sound with enough volume to satisfy thirsty ears; add portability and simplicity of design and I think you can see why I am so smitten.

Over the years our listening habits have – how do I put this …matured? We have evolved and so has the music industry. Just yesterday Leonard Cohen released his first album in over eight years and we listened to it on our new Sonos system through a legal music streaming service that we subscribe to. We have owned literally hundreds of records, tapes and CDs over the years and we still have many of them stored away in boxes and drawers. But I don't think we will be adding to that collection much in the future. We will still be listening to music and paying for the privilege - but gone are the days of plastic and vinyl.

The wireless transformation that is taking place seems so modern and cutting edge but when you think about it, music has always come to us through the air - listening to live music is of course the most pure form. But tuning into a universe of pure, commercial free streaming music suits me just fine. I have paid my dues so to speak and now it is time to sit back and enjoy everything that Sonos has to offer. Can't wait to see what else the future holds - maybe a Sonos in every room? Oh yeah...!

Everybody's Got One

Whether you live in a grand mansion, a humble little apartment or even a lowly hovel - a home is just not a home without one. We all have one - some of us have more than one. The Queen has one and so does the guy who collects my garbage - they serve the same purpose for both rich and poor alike.

Personally I couldn't start the day without mine - it has served me well for many years and even comforted me in times of sickness. And I bet you spend a few moments with yours every day without giving it so much as a second thought. We all tend to take them for granted while they patiently sit and await our command. They don't ask anything of us - they are quiet, reliable and require very little maintenance.

It's true they haven't changed much with the times and might even be considered a bit old fashioned but why tamper with perfection? Maybe they are not the coolest thing around but they can really heat things up.  What am I talking about? Why my toaster of course.

Can you think of a more useful and user friendly appliance? It takes plain simple, boring bread and in a matter of minutes transforms it into a roasted delicacy, fit for your family - or even the Royal Family! At the mere touch of a button we are served up not one but two, or even four perfect portions,  served any way you like - lightly browned or burned to a crusty crispness. It will even keep your toast warm while you prepare the rest of your meal.

What brought about this little homage to the toaster you ask? Well - we just parted with our old one after sadly watching its performance deteriorate over the last few months. We tried cleaning out the crumbs, we gave it extra time, we even re-toasted our bread but we all know that is just wrong. So out with the old and in with the new - it even counts down the seconds to pop-up; no more guesswork. I just had a toasted tomato sandwich and I can tell you it was perfection. Can life get any better? Would it be too corny to offer a toast to a toaster?  Too late - I just did...