Boxing Day....Literally??

Following in the footsteps of his Grand-Mootha, Julian joined the black eyed club on Boxing Day no less. But was he boxing?

No.

This shiner was the result of sliding down 'the death hill' in Harvey Station. Nothing like a family party on Boxing Day to put colour in your cheeks! Julian's face 'kissed' some gnarly ice during a wipe-out.

I, myself, almost died in a separate accident near the death hill, though not involving a toboggan. In fact, my 'brush with death' was a Thanksgiving mishap that occurred about five years ago. I took an apple to the temple, thrown by a holy hurler. Damn near dropped me into an early grave.

The Annual Varty-Slash-Nielsen Christmas Card 2012

For the past ten years I've created an e-Christmas card. This year I (we) made a video. I was the videographer. Julian spent hours editing the raw film in the luxurious Varty Graphics Studios. Wendy, well, she was the star.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAnCyp-3XH4&feature=youtu.be

First (legitimate) Snow - Winter 2012/13

Who's to say what constitutes the 'first snow' of the year? If I can't see the green of my lawn, then that's it for me. Our first snow happened a few days ago. At least it's the first snow since I returned to New Brunswick in December.

As always, it's gorgeous.

Power Serge And Little Masta Kate

Last night New Brunswick endured either a snowstorm or a deluge of rain, depending upon where you lived. We received more rain than snow but what we really got was power outages and brown outs. Many of them.

One of them managed to knock out my desktop computer (the big POS). It's too early to tell if it simply knocked out the computer's power supply or if it fried the hard drive. I'll have to take it to Fredericton for servicing. Harumph. I'm typing this on my notebook computer, otherwise known as the LPOS (little piece of shi__).

That's the first time a power surge has done damage to anything other than my ears. There used to be two deejays on a local radio station who assumed the on air personas of Power Serge and Little Masta Kate. To this day I can't utter the words 'power surge' without tacking on a 'little Masta Kate' chaser.

Damn them.

Eric Clapton, Mick Jagger, Me Mootha, Roger Waters

Last night Wendy and Julian watched the Hurricane Sandy Relief Benefit Concert which featured such musical luminaries as Paul McCartney, the Rolling Stones, Roger Waters, Alicia Keys, The Who, Eric Clapton, Kanye West, Billy Joel, to name but a few. I joined the fray at 11 p.m. when I returned home from badminton in 'the Hamptons'.

During some of the benefit concert's slower moments, Julian played some classic videos of Me Mootha.

The benefit concert finished at 2:15 a.m., at which time I announced to Julian that the highlight of the evening was watching the Me Mootha videos. Apparently the Rolling Stones, Clapton and Roger Waters were also excellent. What is it about these British characters, including Mootha, that makes them so attractive?

Kids Playing or Playing KIDS

Two days ago I bought a synthesizer. It's a Micro Korg and it's...you know, like, pretty cool. I thought I'd try KIDs by MGMT on it because it might sound good and it's the only song I know on keyboard. 

I got spoiled in Toronto having access to two grand pianos. As gorgeous a sound as the grand piano makes, the Korg in New Brunswick makes me just a bit more hip. I need all the help that I can get!

I Tossed My Supper...To A Rough-legged Hawk!

I should have enjoyed a nice beef stew for supper last evening, instead I fed my stewing beef cubes, the entire package, to a wild and hungry rough-legged hawk.

As I was driving home from the Oromocto Superstore yesterday, I was admiring the many hawks that were sitting in trees, waiting for mice to appear in the meadows below. Every approaching winter seems to draw these large hawks to the Grand Lake Meadows where field mice must be an abundant source of food.

Up ahead I saw one rough-legged hawk, dark phase plumage, fly across the road awkwardly (or hawkwardly, if you will). It occurred to me that this was odd behaviour. As I approached the hawk in my car I noticed that this particular fellow stayed on the shoulder of the road. I assumed one of two things: he had some food he wasn't prepared to part with, or he was injured.

I got out of my car and approached the hawk. He flew a few feet and then proceeded to walk away from me. I walked towards him. Eventually we got to a point where we were seven feet apart, both staring at each other suspiciously. I gave him my best 'eagle eye', he countered with piercing hawk eyes. We stayed like this for some time until it became evident that he was injured and probably unable to feed himself, then the lights came on (!).

In the car I had about a pound of stewing beef, neatly cubed, that was destined to be part of my supper. How could I be so selfish? It would have been a shame to dine alone, so I walked back to the car, grabbed the package of beef and went back to my hawk. He hadn't moved. I peeled back the cellophane wrapper and tossed him a cube. Bad toss, it was too far from him. My third toss landed a piece right in front of the hawk. He knew what to do. 

Stabbing the meaty morsel with his talon, he then proceeded to shield the meat with his wings, then tear away at it with his beak. For a hawk, he was decidedly ravenous. I ended up feeding the hawk half of the package of beef and I left the rest with him. Ideally it will fuel him up until his wing can heal, but I'll probably never know his fate.

One thing is for sure, it's unlikely I'll ever have supper with a wild hawk again. It was a once-in-a-lifetime dinner experience, even better than having supper with Prince Charles!

I Ain't Givin' or Gettin' Nuttin' For Christmas...I Hope

aught, blank, bottom, cipher, insignificancy, love (think tennis), lowest point, nada, nadir, naught, nil, nix, nobody, nonentity, nought, nullity, oblivion, ought, rock bottom, scratch, shutout, void, zilch, zip, zot.

Nothing.

That's what I want for Christmas this year. Quite frankly, I've got enough stuff and I should use/appreciate what I've got...and I've got plenty. Someone once said 'he who dies with the most toys wins'. What rubbish. I say 'he who plays with his toys the most wins'. My version is still ludicrous, but it's better than the material man's. In the end, it should be about balance: personal and planetary.

And you know what? You've got too much stuff too, so I'm not giving you anything. Be happy with what you've got because, like me, you've already got too much.

Note: this is not a 'bah humbug' take on Christmas, it's simply an exhibition of my disdain for excess. I think that we should eat, drink and be merry...isn't that enough?

Back In Cottage Country

Well, I survived almost five weeks in Toronto. The reality is that I enjoyed my time there. It gave me a few things that Cambridge-Narrows doesn't, most notably a social life. Of course one could argue that one make's one's own social life and that 'this one' doesn't make much of an effort in Cambridge-Narrows. Whatever.

So now I'm back in the Narrows...cottage country. As I look across the lake, leaves off the trees, I'm able to see Matt and Robin's new 'cottage'. It looks great and is a welcome addition to the neighbourhood. It's nice to see young families, full of life, moving into the area. They're in stark contrast to my deadbeat neighbours, the Beers. Sadly, while I was away in Toronto, the Beers came onto my property and 'rearranged' some of my 'landscaping'. They are a dark cloud.

Stairway To Heaven?

If you're an art lover, then this may well be the Stairway To Heaven. Stylish, new-age, mind and metal bending, non-conformist....this is an outdoor staircase at the Art Gallery Of Ontario. When you're in it you get a gorgeous panorama of the southern Toronto skyline. As you can see, it's equally impressive from the outside as well.

Hurrah for architects! Hurrah for arts patrons with deep pockets!! If they're not going to give part of their fortune to me, then they might as well do something like this. Or feed the poor.

The Rocking Fergusons

Wendy's first cousin, Michael Ferguson (Barrie's son), lives in Toronto and plays drums in a band called The Wholesomes. Last night Wendy and I went to a bar called The Smiling Buddha to hear Michael's band make their first public appearance. Michael can play the drums...WOW! I was quite a contrast to the COC Ensemble competition which I heard the night before. Something for everyone!

Jam For Breakfast

Every morning I walk Wendy to the music building at UofT. Once I'm in her office, I sit down at her grand piano and play Kids by MGMT, then she kicks me out (soft shoe). It's part of a very pleasant daily routine.

When Art Fetches A Good Price

This intelligent piece of art was on a wall in the music building at York University. It was large, about twenty feet across.

What a great way to use old balls that are kicking around in everyone's garages.

Re-use. Re-cycle. Re-ally clever.

William, Or Bill, It Was Really Something

There are a lot of clever people in Toronto, but the mastermind behind this 'art installation' is the big kahuna of them all. It combines simple art, a clever idea, wicked humour and a brilliant (likely nocturnal) execution in a very public place.

Every morning I walk Wendy to work. As we traverse the city we take the lesser known Breadalbane street between Yonge and Bay streets. Along this street is a contentious area where a developer wants to put up more condos. The people want a park. The area, a scant few acres in size, is surrounded by plywood boards in order to keep people and their dogs out.

The developer sees an opportunity for profit. The local residents see an opportunity for a much needed green space. The artist sees an opportunity to lighten the mood. Every morning I smile when I see this, and it's with much appreciation that I thank the artist. I'm half tempted to add 'my own Bill' to the wall, but I don't want to get arrested for public mischief. Sorry, Dad.

Ah...To Be A Twenty Year Old Dope Fiend

So some research institute is going to pay 19 and 20 year-old man/boys to smoke dope and play in a state-of-the-art driving simulator.

The kids of today are spoiled. We never had opportunities like this when I was a 19 year-old man/boy.

This city of Toronto really has something for everyone, from tranny hookers to pot smokers troubled by parallel parking!

Cryptic Clue: One Dope Fiend (3)

I saw this sculpture by artist Evan Penny at the Art Gallery of Ontario. I added the joint because it made the subject resemble someone who I know, except my friend doesn't have a rat tail.

This image will loosely be related to my next blog post. How exciting...a two part blog post that will mystify everyone but Julian (who represents 50% of my viewing audience).

Tranny Hookers: Now Available In Tall

The other night I went for a walk to meet Wendy. Not twenty seconds away from my condo I came across a creature that was, well, rather odd looking. He or she was as tall as me, heavier set, with a ravine of cleavage and an outfit that surely was stolen from Elvira herself.

Different strokes for different folks.

When I arrived at UofT to meet Wendy, I told her about my sighting. Wendy said 'tranny'. She explained that the cleavage was likely the result of some silicon augmentation.

This was my first 'tranny' sighting.

The other night I was walking back to the condo and while following a guy and girl on my street, I happened to overhear their conversation...

Guy: if you're looking for a tranny hooker, then this is a good street to find one on.

Girl: (giggle) Oh, I don't think I want one.

It was an enlightening moment for me: living in the gaybourhood, dodging tranny hookers. I remember the  old days of Toronto in the late 1980s when you could find good old fashioned hookers on Jarvis Street. I wonder what has happened to this city?? It's time to turn the clocks back to a gentler time.

Santa The Brave

Dressed in red and masquerading as festive Christmas revelers, the Scottish pipe band somehow manages to secure a place in Toronto's annual Santa Claus Parade. Though not what I'd call 'Christmassy', I'd take a gaggle of haggis squeezing bagpipers any day over Bing Crosby crooning White Christmas. Auch aye!

Graffiti And Me

I love graffiti. In fact, I can't understand why someone doesn't paint an entire office complex or condo tower in graffiti-like style. It would look amazing!

Most of the buildings I see are boring beyond belief. Whites and greys predominantly. They make me long for the  happy jellybean houses that dot the islands of Madeleine.

Kahlo Thoughts: Is It A Mono-brow or a Uni-brow?

Two days ago I went to the AGO, otherwise known as the Art Gallery of Ontario. It had been at least twenty years since my last visit. There have been big changes at the AGO and it's now very impressive indeed.

I was fortunate enough to visit the gallery during an exhibition of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera paintings. If you don't know much about this pair of artists, suffice to say that one of them has bushy eyebrows and a moustache, and the other is her husband.

Ouch.

There's a cruel irony in that this exhibit coincides with Movember. God? Are you listening? Why not strike me with lightning today. Right now. Let's just get it over with.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

In A Dusty Old Hall In Toronto They Play

Wayne Gretzky and a beaver walk into a Tim Horton's. Wayne tries to order a double-double and pay for it with Canadian Tire money. The cashier, who happens to be the ghost of Mila Mulroney's shoe collection, tells Wayne that he has to pay with loonies or dubloonies (toonies). Wayne apologizes profusely and then hands over an envelop full of of coins. He then orders a maple glazed donut to go with his coffee. This is a Canadian moment, but last night was no less Canadian...

Wendy and I heard Gordon Lightfoot perform at Massey Hall in Toronto on a crisp November evening. It doesn't get much more Canadian than that, eh?

If I Ever Go Back To School...

Evil Media Studies??

Of course I have no intention of ever going back to university, except perhaps to accept my honorary doctorate in Leisure Studies. But, if I had to, I'd go back to the University of Toronto's Pontifical Institute Of Mediaeval Studies. I haven't got the foggiest idea what they do there, and likely neither do the students nor the professors. I just like the idea of telling friends that I'm at the Pontifical Institute.

The New Face Of Fifty

Dame Edna...is that you?

Yesterday was Wendy's 50th birthday. One of the highlights was arriving to her office and finding it 'redecorated': streamers, balloons, horns, buttons, tinsel, signage, over-sized glasses...it was all there!

A riot, but not a quiet riot. It was the devious work of her trumpeteer/colleague/friend Gill. There were 30 or so balloons in Wendy's office, inflated by Gill's wind ensemble students. Who better??

This morning Wendy has settled into being 50. She seems much the same. No crying. No wailing. She has yet to fling herself to the floor. I think the fifties may agree with her. She'll have ten years to give them a try.

Toronto Time Lapse - Condo View

Ten hours of Toronto compressed into 22 seconds. Again, it's the view from our condo. I was hoping for more blue skies and fluffy, fast moving clouds but all I got was grey skies. I'll try again. It could be interesting on a snowy day too.

The View (Toronto edition)

The View

This is the view we have from the 20th floor of our Toronto condo. It's quite 'lovely'. It looks particularly nice in the twilight. Yesterday afternoon I was watching hawks soaring high above, not sure what type of hawks though.

Holy Ship!

Crazy Dave

I had hoped for one last windsurf before heading to Toronto but the wind never really delivered. Gusts would blow by Saints Rest beach on the Bay of Fundy but the wind was inconsistent.

In this picture Crazy Dave Cuthbertson made the most of the wind and waves.

Guilty Of A Salt

The Mustard Drizzle Doesn't Make It More Tantalizing!

Take a scenic drive to the ocean. Park your car, then walk down to the water's edge. Jump in. Guzzle sea water until you throw up.

Take a drive on a winter highway in a freezing rain storm. Follow the plow. Stop your car, then get out. Walk to the middle of the road, then fall on your knees. crane your head forward. Now, start licking the road salt.

I can think of many ways to up your intake of sodium, but none more effective than ordering Pizza Hut's Hot Dog Stuffed Crust pizza. And for dessert....cross the parking lot to acquire Burger King's delicious new bacon sundae.

The Mayans may be right (tick, tick, tick), but I doubt they foresaw our demise in the form of a culinary apocalypse.

Oakey Dokey

Oak eh?

Two oak trees in my yard. Slow shutter speed, spinning camera....et voila!

Art Thou Trees...or Art Thou Art?

Aspens or Poplar?

Photographed a beautiful stand of yellow leafed trees yesterday. I found them between Robertson's Point and White's Cove (Grand Lake).

No Photoshop here, folks. This was a simple motion pan of the camera.

The Power Of Proximity

I don't know...maybe wear a life jacket??

I was reading the news at CBC.ca when the headline 'Chinese Student, Mother Rescued From Hopewell Rocks' caught my eye. Apparently the university student and her mother got pinned by the tides and were unable to make it back to the stairs (and safety). Rescue teams were sent from four different fire departments and a Cormorant helicopter was dispatched. Thankfully they were rescued without harm.

In an 'unrelated' yet proximate headline, CBC was asking readers to 'Tweet Your Advice For New Citizens'. I can think of a few things...

Lucky Wendy Nielsen (art collector)

September

So, Wendy was at the Opera Canada Ruby Awards last night to honour Michael McMahon, among others. They had a few prizes to be randomly won during the evening's events and Wendy ended up winning a large painting inspired by Strauss's Four Last Songs. Lucky girl!

The artist's name is Paula Arciniega and you can view her art at  www.paulaarciniega.com.

Potty Mouth Marketing 101

Well, it caught my attention.

Well, it caught my attention but the real question is....would I buy something from someone who called me out as a "lazy turd"?

If you read the fine print of this Kijiji ad you'll be enlightened as to the finer aspects of Potty Mouth Marketing 101.

Let's see how quickly the poop nation gets up to buy this guy's Loop Station. Chances are that 'this Charmin man' will sell his sh_t quickly.

Fall On The Ground

Fallen fall foliage.

Well, they don't last long but they sure are 'some pretty'.

Leaves. Glorious leaves!

More On Kijiji

How can there be a children's captain bed?

Think about it....have you ever known a child to be a captain? Sure, maybe captain of their PeeWee hockey team, but not a real captain (i.e. Police Captain, Sea Captain, Captain of Industry).

I've been shopping for a spare single bed for our spare room and I keep running across these captain's beds. They look perfect for my needs, but they all seem to fit very small captains. Child-sized captains, like Napoleon. What I need is an NBA Basketball captain's bed, perhaps something that Wilt Chamberlain might have slept on. On second thoughts, I wouldn't want Wilt's old bed.

Embarrassing Baguette Moments



Well hello there...

 Yesterday I bought a baguette at the Kingston market. It was a generous foot long with half of it nestled in a brown paper bag. The other half was protruding out into the open air.

As I was wandering around the market, outside, I became aware that holding the baguette by my side was rather phallic. I became very self conscious so I held it in front of myself. Though that took away the 'weenie profile', it really wasn't much better as it looked like I was fondling my private parts.

Ultimately I ended up walking around clutching the baguette to my chest so as to eliminate any 'below the belt' associations.

At one point I asked Julian to hold the baguette while I went to buy some salmon. Interestingly enough, he, too, quickly became uncomfortable holding the baguette. We shared a great chuckle over the entire ordeal.

I wonder if it would have been the same had it been a pumpernickel baguette. The rum cake lady would have loved us!

Next Stop, Halloween

Millstream Gourds

Well, it's October. The pumpkins are orange and so are the leaves on the trees (though not in this picture...damned evergreens!).

This image was hastily taken on the way to Sussex. It was raining so I took the picture from the car. Lazy ass cameraman.

White Toddler Bed

It's nice, but....

I saw this bed for sale on Kijiji. It's a white toddler bed, but what if your child isn't white??

The Saint John Windsurfing Crew

There were eight of us on the water yesterday...all men. Question: where are all the windsurfing girls? Answer: dunno.

We men folk enjoyed a windy and sunny day in Saint John (almost unheard of). It was a refreshing change from the week before where the wind played tricks on us and the rain washed away any hope for fun.

The wind was in the 40-60 km/h range and it blew from one side of the Kennebecasis to the other. Glorious!

Why Is That Tree Red?

It's happening...the leaves on the trees are beginning to turn red. This means two things:
1) the landscape it about to become spectacularly attractive,
2) summer is officially over.

I woke up this morning to find a fog blanketing the lake. If I had a yacht at my mooring then I wouldn't have been able to see it on account of the fog. Think pea soup for breakfast.

This picture was taken yesterday afternoon, pre-fog. Gorgeous, but fleeting.

Say No To Drugs And Thugs

A friend just sent me this image.

In the picture I'm talking (or negotiating??)  with my Cambridge-Narrows neighbour in les Iles de la Madeleine.

It was pretty cool to have two Cambridge-Narrows friends in les Iles at the same time that I was there.

They were there on their motorcycles. Who's the crazy one...me or them?

Strange Day - Bay of Fundy Version

Crazy Dave Stares Down The Beast (the beast wins!)

With a forecast of 40-80 km/h you'd think that I would have been flying across the waves. Guess again. Not enough wind to plane on a 106 litre board and a 5.2 sail. But wait....a second attempt sees me get away from the beach and plane ever so slightly, then back into shore. Again I try to head out but this time there's not enough wind to even get started and break through the relentlessly incoming waves.

I grab my windsurfer and walk back across the beach to my car. I give up. It simply isn't worth the effort.

Minutes after de-rigging, the wind gets up. Now it's so windy that crazy Dave Cuthbertson can't even get through the incoming waves, some of which are about 6 feet high and breaking 50 feet from shore. Plenty of wind but the waves are incapacitating. Dave gives up. Rick Lawrence gives up. Doug Justason gives up. Leonard Dow gives up.

Bay of Fundy: 1    
Windsurfers: 0

Downwinder

Yesterday, September 15, I did a downwinder on the lake. I rigged my 5.9 sail on Janie Trebble's lawn and proceeded to windsurf home. It took three hours. Conditions ranged from intoxicatingly great to wildly frustrating. All in all, though, it was a rewarding adventure. It almost always is.

Maison encore, maison encore

(not my) artwork in the sandstone
 Dune du Sud, Iles de la Madeleine

Home again, home again. I just returned from my annual windsurfing pilgrimage to les Iles de la Madeleine. It was spectacular! I windsurfed, surfed  and stand-up paddled in eleven different locations on Havre-Aubert, Cap Aux Meules, Havre Aux Maisons, Iles Pointe Aux Loups, Grosse Ile and Grande Entrée.

I used every sail that I own (3.5, 4.2, 4.7, 5.2, 5.9 and 6.9). I spent very little time in the lagoon which was a pleasant change. I experienced very challenging surf and winds up to almost 70 km/h...and I survived. I used my 77 litre board as much as my 106 litre board. I managed four bottom turns on a single wave at Plage Portage du Cap on my last day...a triumphant finish!

Gawd it was a great 18 days!!

The Good Yife



Ah Tuscany!

 Ah...Tuscany. The cypress trees, the sun, the wine (insert sound of screeching brakes here followed by the sound of a record player needle being dragged across an LP).

Okay, so it's not Tuscany. But where is it? Surely this scene couldn't be set in New Brunswick...or could it?

Anniversary Portrait #2

It must have been the chick peas!

I love photography so the idea of a 25th wedding anniversary portrait seemed like a great idea. I'm not one to pose for a Sears family portrait as I require something more natural.

What could be more natural than me underwater? And Wendy next to me, plugging her nose (underwater or above)? Hey...that's us!

Our 25th Wedding Anniversary

Twenty-five years!

I've done a handful of exceedingly stupid things in my life. I've also done a handful of exceedingly brilliant things in my life. Nothing...I repeat, nothing, has been more brilliant than marrying Wendy. It would be hard to imagine marrying a better woman. I can't.

When I look at my life...where I've been and where I'm going, I think that I might just be the luckiest man alive.

I don't need to be lavished with glistening gifts. A silver tea service or a silver platter would end up on Kijiji....eventually. The greatest gift of all is that I know how lucky I am.

Professor Nielsen

The University of Toronto Faculty of Music has a new Professor...and profess she will! On August 19 I helped Wendy to move her earthly scholastic possessions into her teaching studio at UofT.

She was excited. I was excited. Her colleagues will be excited. Her students will be excited. It's all good.

Actually, it's great. It marks a turning point in both career and life. We are so lucky!

Serene Scene or Serena Seen

The hair!

Julian and I have been playing tennis lately. It's been a blast. Neither of us are particularly talented BUT we're getting better every time we play...the way things should work. Wendy accompanied us to Queen's Square the other day and watched us play. You could tell that she wanted to play, even though she didn't have proper tennis shoes (and matching skirt) with her. No matter.

Wendy took to the court at the end of my match with Julian. Julian and I were both suitably impressed with Wendy's cross court smashes and general shot making. Toward the end of Julian and Wendy's rallies, Julian said to me 'who knew my mother was Serena Williams?'.

Stay tuned. Wendy is keen to play more.

P.S. The best thing about Wendy's tennis game...she didn't scream like so many other professional female tennis players. That's right, Sharapova, I'm talkin' about you.

Mom & Dad's 60th Wedding Anniversary

Have Your Cake...and eat it too!

Sixty years is a long time for anything, unless you're waiting for wind in which case sixty years is the average time between decent windsurfing sessions in New Brunswick.

My parents have been married for sixty years this month. Impressive! Wendy, Julian and I decided to celebrate the occasion with a delicious cake (Mom's recipe), some music and dinner out (chish & fips at Frank's Finer Diner).

It was a wonderful afternoon. Mom was in fine fettle and everyone was happy.  It was an intimate afternoon. We're a tightly knit group...the five Fuskateers! It feels good.

Summer's Eve

Reflective moment.

It's August, the month that announces summer's pending demise. Oh, how gloomy sounding! The fact is that by August 20 I notice the evenings getting shorter and a nip often teases the night air, but we're not there yet.

This image was taken on August 10 and it was a classic summer's eve, no question. Wendy, Gill and John sat on the dock and enjoyed the moment (limoncello in hand!).

There aren't many left at this point...for this year, so we'll savour them individually. We'll notice their personalities, temperament, follies and foibles. We'll miss them when they're gone.

Slim Shaded Feat. Mootha

Please, no autographs.

There was absolutely no need for us to be wearing sunglasses indoors. It's just one more way to spice up life at mom's nursing home. Props are important and we'll use anything at our disposal to get a chuckle.

The other day I took mom's dining 'bib, which had a tartan-like pattern, and wrapped it around my waist like a kilt. I then proceeded to imitate a highland dancer. More than one resident was laughing with me...or was it 'at me'?

Where's Me Mootha?

A lot of famous people become even more famous because of a catch phrase. My mother, not to be outdone by the mucky-mucks, has a catch phrase...'where's me Mootha?'. It all started when my dad was in the hospital during the winter of 2011. Mom stopped calling him Bill, his real name, and started referring to him as 'me Mootha'. She was always wondering where he was, hence 'where's me Mootha?'. 

I really should trademark the expression, it's that good.

"Shut That F___ing Dog Up"

I like live recordings, but sometimes I settle for taped.

My neighbours' dog is neurotic, but so are my neighbours, so they get along famously the mutt. Me? I don't think I'd enjoy having a flea bitten, dust mop, lion-maned, ankle humping yap trap that barks all day long.

Ahhhhh...peace and quiet in the country. So elusive.

My estimate is that Yappy-do next door barks approximately 1000 times per day, at least on the weekends when there's a lot of boat traffic on the lake. Yappy doesn't like SeaDoos so at least we have that in common, but I not a barker. I'm a writer. Woof, woof, meow, a-choo.

At 10:15 p.m. on Saturday Wendy and I were sitting on our deck enjoying the warmth of a summer night. Though it was dark and there were no longer boats on the lake, Yappy was still barking. This 'peaceful' scene was shattered when someone across the lake yelled "shut that fucking dog up". I have no idea who yelled that, but it was music to my ears.

I certainly don't want to punish my neighbours for having a yapping dog. Having the dog, or each other, is punishment enough. That said, it makes me wonder what kind of a 'personality' would 'enjoy' having incessant yapping in their lives. Perhaps for one of the dog's two owners, it's comparatively quiet given the alternative (and I'm not referring to the SeaDoos).

Blissful Blossoms et Fleurs Fantastique

Just Add Water et VOILA!

The yellow fleurs (i.e heliopsis) seem to hold back until August, then POW!! Almost all the flowers currently in blossom in my jardin are yellowish. I should make a point to plant something other than yellows in the future, but  don't call me anti-jaune. They're my favourite!

Wendy On Vacation, I Think

Lake Diva and her antics.

It's nice to see Wendy acting like a total goofball as it takes much of the pressure off me. Not that it's any hardship for me to captain my own sinking sense of the absurd.

Though Wendy is on vacation in this picture it still looks like she's a singer. I'm not sure but I think she may be trying to make a digital recording.

In the background, Maurice Collette, a summertime neighbour and captain of Via Lago (Doral 21), looks on in bewilderment.

Wendy 'performed' this stunt in Kingston Creek, a deep and delicious offshoot of Belleisle Bay.

Chert Cousteau-eaus

Quelqu'un peut-il voir le Calypso?

Like Jacques and Philippe Cousteau before us, Julian and I boarded our exploration vessel and headed out to sea in search of underwater riches.

Well, maybe not riches. No dubloons or triploons. We were searching for rocks, but not just any rocks. Chert. Once again I was looking for chert, the rock used for tool and weapon making by the indigenous people of this area.

This time around I brought my young associate, Philippe. Errrr, I mean Julian. Note: I may be suffering from Cousteauism. C'est possible. Julian and I decided to have an underwater look at what might be the area where the chert was known to exist. We found lots of jasper underwater but we're still not certain that we've found chert.

At this point I've decided to contact the expert in chert, a UNB professor named David Black. Perhaps he can shed some light on our quest. Cousteau, of course, would have trudged ahead on his own (it made for better tv). Moi, je vais faire le chemin facile.

Fifty-footitis

The trout won't stand a chance!

There's a term in boating called 'two footitis'. It's a disease. You buy a boat and within a year or two you start suffering from two footitis. You want a bigger boat, perhaps two feet bigger, which makes quite a difference in roominess.

The boat in this image, Whitetail, is a cure for the disease. It's a custom made lobster fishing boat that's 50 feet long and 24 feet wide. I used to have a powerboat, Maud, which was 23 feet long. Whitetail is wider than Maud was long.

It's a good thing that I got rid of Maud before Whitetail arrived on the lake. Twenty footitis wouldn't have cured me. Whitetail lives just down the lake from me during the off-season for lobster fishing. She makes other boaters, and trout and lobster, nervous.

I'll Have Mine 'On The Rocks'

Shadowy Figure

Well, I tried desperately to windsurf on Grand Lake yesterday. Things didn't go in my favour. When life gives you lemons (i.e. no wind), you make lemonade (i.e. go for a stand-up paddle).

It's nice to have options. No wind? No problem. I took my stand-up paddleboard out on the mighty Washademoak après supper and enjoyed a wonderfully serene glide along the rocks of the Pines Conservation Park. I saw only one other boat on the lake on this picture perfect evening. Is everyone dead? Or are they simply watching television?

Seriously...where the hell is everyone?

Going Native...and Loving It!

Pine Island, Washademoak Lake, may have been a playground for the locals (way back when)

It must have been a hard life back in the day. A hundred years ago, five hundred years ago, two thousand years ago...hardly matters.

On Saturday morning I launched my war canoe, which happened to be a 12-foot tin boat with a 9.9 H.P. outboard, and proceeded down the lake to find a source of chert for making weapons and tools. That's what the First Nations people did, more or less.

On the shores of Washademoak Lake, near Belyea's Cove, lies a source of chert that the natives knew only too well. It was the only known source in New Brunswick of a rock type, called chert, that was ideal for making arrow heads, spear tips, and cutting implements.

I (surprise, surprise) didn't find the chert source but I did  discover an inner sense of the importance of place. I was happy to be where I was, rock-hounding on the Washademoak shores. Beyond that, I also had a huge sense of appreciation for what life must have been like hundreds of years ago. Not easy.

I'm not sure how the natives chipped away at the chert to make tools. What did they use to break and shape the rock? I tried using a hammer on a piece of jasper and I failed. They succeeded, but how? I suppose it's like building a Stradivarius violin...all the technology in the world won't replace craftsmanship. There is much to learn.