Turn The Page

Just finished Christmas dinner with the families, and for me, I thought it went well. It’s good to see my brothers, sister and Mum, get into a lot of good appetizers that Mrs. N has come up with, get into a good dinner, and kick back and spend some time talking. We don’t do that enough.

And then, when everyone goes home, that’s my time. Mrs. N, she has to crash; she puts so much into the prep that she’s got nothing left for the cleanup, so when everyone is gone I send her to bed and plug in my iPod, and take my time cleaning up. My thing is to make it so that when she wakes up on Boxing Day it’s like no one was here.

It’s not totally selfless. I just got through listening to Springsteen doing “backstreets” and there’s been a ton of other good music…”Tusk” just coming on now…that I get to listen to while I’m doing the cleanup.

Plus I get some time to think about how great it was to see my brothers, mom and sister, which doesn’t happen often enough. “Knocking on heaven’s door” by g&r now.

Gonna have to crash pretty soon, though, because entertaining is not easy, but it sure is worth it, to have the people you care about around you.

BTW, there is nothing as good as doing the dishes while rocking out to Metallica’s Turn The Page with no one else in the room. And now “whiskey in the jar”

To all who are celebrating, have a great Christmas…I know I am.

Stepping Back Into the Dark Ages

The night of December 21 2013 my corner of the world was plunged out of the 21st century and back to a version of the dark ages, literally, thanks to an ice storm that crippled the city and knocked out power to over a quarter million people.

The perfect opportunity to return to my survivalist roots and assemble my emergency response supplies, the equipment that would save my household and neighbours from the impending doom of the marauders that would certainly descend under cover of darkness.

Of course, when I woke and saw there was no power I went back to bed for a couple or four hours.

When we did get out of bed it was time to put the plan in action. Set up the Coleman stove on the porch (because my wife insisted on following the safety warning about not operating the thing inside) and making some instant coffee, putting together a breakfast of crusty bread, pate and cheese.

Then it was time to collect all the flashlights, batteries and candles in one place, because emergency services were warning that we’re looking at 72 hours before power is restored (yes, I have a battery operated radio). And along with lighting supplies, let’s get the air pistols and tactical tomahawk ready to use, just in case.

And all the while the house is getting colder.

Luckily we still had hot water, so we were able to shower by candlelight. And while I was in the shower the power came back on, and then we were plunged back into the 21st century.

So that’s that, then.

Navigator 21 out.

Santa Claus Isn’t the Only One Who Makes Lists

You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I’m telling you why
(Insert tyrant’s name here) is coming to town
He’s making a list
And checking it twice;
Gonna find out Who’s naughty and nice

(original lyrics by John Frederick Cootes and Haven Gillespie)

So in many ways, Santa Claus uses the same tactics as many past and present tyrants to reward “friends” and punish “enemies”. Friends such as the CIA, KGB (or FSB), Kim Jong Un, The Peoples’ Republic of China, Idi Amin, Papa Doc Duvalier (with his “Attendance List”), Joe McCarthy (with his “black list”), and last but not least, let’s not forget Herr Hitler, with his “Juden Sehen Dich An”.

And you want this guy in a red suit and disguising beard, to have your kids’ names on file, coming down your chimney once a year?

Old Scottish Men

Thursday night, last, sub-zero temps, taking my dog for a walk. It’s garbage night (actually the night before garbage day pick up).

So out we go, Maggie and I, me in my parka, she in her fur coat. When what do we see, across the street? My geriatric Scottish neighbour Jim, adding one last bag to his wheelie bin. Clad in a shimmering gauzy kimono-design dressing gown, white socks and sandals. With the subarctic wind blowing all around him.

The glow of his pale, hairless legs in the illumination of the street lights was a thing of wonder.

And then my stupid mind thought “if that is what he goes out dressed in public, what is he wearing at home, just watching TV?”

After the paramedics revived me I continued on my walk with Maggie, but then came home and had a couple of stiff Scottish whiskeys in swift succession.

I have not had a full night’s sleep since then.

Damn those kilt-wearers!