The Rock Walls - October 2014

Many of the rock walls that I've recently built have not been seen by Wendy or Julian, so I've filmed a 6 minute video which features a tour of the walls and property. This is not a National Geographic quality video. There has been no editing, no sound effects, no sound track. It is merely a record of a moment in time. Blink and it is gone. Blink and there will be another rock wall!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3GwpDAZ4gQ&feature=youtu.be

Shall We Play Bridge?

When I was a boy my parents used to go out to 'play bridge' occasionally. I think that may have been a code word for 'drink and eat appetizers with the neighbours', or maybe it just meant 'get away from the kids'. Mostly get away from Doug and Alex, I suppose, because I was an angel back then. Not surprisingly, I still am.

I can't actually remember my parents playing bridge at our house, though I do have some vague memories of appetizers and weird people in the living room. (Oh, wait, that was one of Alex's parties.) Yet, I never saw a deck of cards. The bottom line is that playing bridge seemed mysterious. I never witnessed my parents practicing bridge either. They just went out and did it. I think the Daily Gleaner was in cahoots with them because they published some bridge information that was coded.I never did break the code, nor did my grubby -faced, sandbox amigos.

Currently I have another bridge mystery on my hands. Two weeks ago a road crew came and inspected the Cambridge-Narrows bridge. They lowered some mucky-mucks with hard hats over the side of the bridge for an inspection. The next day they blocked off one lane of the bridge. I expected that they'd start work immediately. So far nothing has happened.

It quickly became the talk of the Village. What are they doing? After two weeks....nothing. We have to wait at either end of the bridge for the light to turn green so we can proceed across the bridge. Why? We do not know. No one knows, not even the Mayor (and he knows everything about the Gubbamen).

I was at a birthday party last evening for a local 49 year old  (J-Y.P.)Talk of the bridge came up during the conversation. According to one knowledgeable person (S.C.) at the party, the inspection of the bridge turned up a large hole in one of the main carrying beams. The hole looked to be the size of a basketball hoop, or bigger, based on my interpretation of the hand gesture that accompanied the spoken description. Apparently the inspector debated whether or not to close the entire bridge. Thankfully just one lane was closed, but for how long?

The pictures you see on today's blog were taken on the bridge last evening before I drove to the birthday party. The sky was beautifully intoxicating, but would I have given myself the green light to walk on the dangerous side of the bridge and take those pictures had I known about the condition of the bridge? The party was on the other side of the bridge and I did drive across the bridge to get home afterwards, so I'm not overly concerned for my safety, I guess. Also, I have jumped off it successfully once before so I could do it again....if I had to. Also again, if I'm going through the bridge it'll likely be in my Focus wagon with a half ton of rocks in back!

Splish-splash, I'm a takin' a bath.

 I'll be curious to see when our bridge is fixed. The old Jemseg bridge has been down to one lane for over a year with no apparent work being done. Let's hope we fare better in Cambridge-Narrows. On the upside I'm thinking of selling muffins and Telegraph Journals to the motorists waiting in line to get across the bridge. They're queued up right at the end of my driveway. This is the business opportunity for which I've been waiting 22 years. God has finally thrown me a bone.

Sue Who?

When I go to the grocery store to buy my coffee, I don't buy it based on where it is grown, or whether it's a dark roast or medium,  or whether it's ground or whole bean. I do not have a discerning palette when it comes to coffee. I have only three criteria when making a purchase:

1) it's on sale
2) it's not Tim Horton's.

I recently bought some whole bean President's Choice coffee. It really wakes me up in the morning, but that's only because my coffee grinder sounds like a pinata full of Skittles being beaten by rattle wielding toddlers. It's....umm...noisy. I have no idea if my coffee grinder gives me a coarse ground or a fine ground. It gives me coffee so that's all I care.

I bought two bags of coffee. One is from Colombia. I don't know much about Columbia other than they're noted for their coffee and their cocaine (not mixed together). I've only ever known two people from Colombia. A man called Juan Valdez who made his fortune as a coffee magnate and then expanded his empire to include ocean-going oil tankers. He was eventually bought out by Exxon and things up north turned south after that. The other Colombian with whom I'm acquainted is Olga Cruz. I'm quite convinced that she's descended from the Chibcha 'Indians' and that she would have become a high priestess had the Europeans not come over and ruined everything (soccer, Christianity, pay-per-view television, small pox, etc.).

My other bag of coffee was called Sumatran. I know nothing about Sumatra, but this brings me to criterion three (you thought I made a mistake earlier, didn't you?):

3) it better be packaged in a pretty colour that suits the aesthetic of both my mind and my cupboard.

As you can see from today's image, the coffee was bagged in the family colour...orange. I'd buy wasabi coated egg salad energy balls if they were packaged in more eye pleasing wrapping.

So, I know nothing about Sumatra so let's do a little research. I'd like to introduce you to Wikipedia in case you've never heard of it....

Sumatra (Indonesian: Sumatera) is an island in western Indonesia and part of the Sunda Islands. It is the largest island that is entirely in Indonesia (two larger islands, Borneo and New Guinea, are shared between Indonesia and other countries) and the sixth largest island in the world at 480,847.74 km² (including adjacent islands such as the Riau Islands and Bangga Belitung Islands), with a current population of over 50 million (54 million administratively, as Riau Islandsand Bangka–Belitung Islands are included). Its biggest city is Medan which has over 4,300,000 people in its metropolitan area. *Note: all this Sumatra stuff is courtesy of Wikipedia.

Medan? A city of 4.3 million. Bigger than Toronto, yet I've never heard of it. Gawd, I live in a bubble. In my own defence, they don't have an NFL or NHL franchise in Medan, so why do I even need to know about it?

So, have you noticed that I like to begin sentences with the word 'so'? It usually precedes a profound statement.  I digress. So, my Sumatran coffee tastes different from my Colombian coffee. Profound, I know! Please don't ask me to explain the difference. They cost the same so there's basically no difference other than the pretty orange bag and the taste. Given that Sumatra is roughly 87% Muslim, I doubt that my coffee beans were harvested by men like Juan Valdez. More likely they were picked by Muhammed Abdul Muhammed...or his wife and kids. This just proves that I still know little or nothing about Sumatra.

My coffee is now cold, in emulation of my blog.

Computers Will Save Humans Countless Hours Of Time

I'm having computer troubles today to the point where I've already wasted half my morning. For the moment I give up, though I'll probably bash my head against my diminutive little devil box later. I need to settle down. Maybe I should go lift some rocks.

Does this constitute a blog, or the negation of today's blog?

You decide.

How do you feel about your computer? Do you love it? Hate it? Or do you have a love/hate relationship with it? I can tell you that I hate my little computer. Sadly it's too heavy to be a frisbee, but light enough so as not to make a good anchor. I'll find a good use for it soon. Soon. Soon.

(insert evil laugh here).

Wall Smart

My passion for rock wall building is showing no signs of abating, though I think I'm nearing my property's capacity for hosting rock walls. It'll be sad when the last rock is placed. I imagine the ghost of Pete Berton will be crying on my shoulder, and I on his. He was a mess when he finished writing The Last Spike, you know.

Seriously, what the hell am I going to do when there are no more rocks to be gathered and placed. What does the hunter/gatherer do when there is nothing left to hunt or gather? He starves!

Why not take up knitting? You seem to have a fondness of toques. Make your own, you daft fool.

Hmmm...knitting. My Mom was an excellent knitter. Maybe I should follow in her footsteps? Gawd, what am I thinking?? I need some physical work (like rock wall building), not something to do while watching Another World.

Mmmm...Rachel. Mmmm...Iris Carrington. Mmmm...Ada McGowan. 

Ewwww...Ada McGowan!

It's 'Fun' To Stay At The Y.M.C.A......Errr, I Mean P.G.

In my youth I used to rock the world as the rhythm guitarist for a band called The Village Idiots. After a long and celebrated career I decided I couldn't keep up with the drug culture of my fellow band-mates (he once saw Julian take Advil), so I decided to go it alone as a solo act. Things didn't pan out ('pan' being the operative theme of most critical reviews) for me internationally, nationally or even provincially, but I'm still performing locally to enthusiastic audiences. When you watch this video, take note of how I captivate and win over the crowd with my affable style (well, he has a nice personality, at least), innate non-musicality and lyrical shape-shifting.

A Note To Wendy

Dear Wendy,

I bought a car yesterday. How was your day?

Love,

Ian