It's past the middle of April, and we're into Music Festival week, where I have to drive literally hundreds of km (29 km one way; round that off to 30, then multiply by 15) back and forth to a nearby town for our daughters to compete in piano, vocal and musical theatre. And I don't like winter driving. And what is going on outside at this very moment is winter. I know this is Canada, but even here, we're supposed to have something resembling Spring right now.
In the olden days when people were ignorant and superstitious, they would blame this on the weather gods. But now we have Al Gore. I'm long past even hoping for a little bit of Global Warming. At this point, I'm praying that our government will let us keep our carbon tax so that we can use it to heat our homes in June. Cuz the planet isn't overheating. Not here. Not even a little bit.
The view out my North patio doors, blocked by the driven snow.
An artistic (blurry) rendering of my patio chairs, buried in snow.
The melting drops on the window in the foreground represent my tears of frustration at Al Gore, and all Global Warmists and politicians who think taxing us will change the weather.
Unfortunately, the movie is Napoleon Dynamite. This actually happened to me recently.
Yes, Middle Age Brain strikes again (actually, I'm past middle age, since I don't think it's likely I'll live past 100, but that's neither here nor there. I still feel too young to call myself a 'senior'). I was at a small-town grocery store, having dashed inside to buy two (literally two) items. $44 later, I zipped open my purse to see... no wallet. Of course. I had put it in the side pocket of my gym bag the previous morning, and had forgotten to replace it. No cards, no cash, no knowledge of how to use my smartphone to pay for stuff (IS there such an app? I don't even know. Probably, but I'm old.)
Luckily, I had my bulging little change purse, and if there is anything I don't do often enough, it's empty my change purse. I decided to pay with "loonies" and "toonies" ($1 and $2 Canadian coins).
I got as far as $37, and that was that. The kindly clerk said she would ring in the entire amount ($44) and that I could bring the rest back the next day. Did I mention she didn't know me from Adam? Or Eve? However, I must have looked suitably pathetic (and trustworthy) because she let me walk out with $7 of my groceries unpaid for. Fortunately, when I got to the car, I remembered hubby also has a little stash of coins which he uses at the coin-op carwash (sorry, Hon). So I ran back into the store to square my debt.
It restores one's faith in humanity. My memory, not so much. Must go put wallet back into purse now.
Scale: our quarters, nickels and dimes are the same size as U.S. coins of that ilk. So are the pennies, but we don't use them anymore.
When we renovated the kitchen/dining area, Mr. P turned down my request for a fireplace or wood-burning stove to be included. I can't really blame him, since we didn't need it. The area is small, and it stays quite warm enough with the heat from the large windows (southern exposure) and cooking/baking. Plus, there is no seating/lounging area to speak of: I basically eliminated my living room in order to have a large kitchen and adequate dining space. (There goes the resale value...) And YES, someday I will post Before-During-After pics of the reno, for which DOH fans have been clamouring! (Well, OK, one reader requested photos, on one occasion...but I digress.)
I love the ambience of a fire. And my hubby apparently agrees. I came downstairs the other morning to join him for coffee (he had been up for a while). This was on his tablet, and I thought it was funny. If not strange.
A reader also messaged to say how much she enjoyed my pictures from the last post. (Okay, okay, so she was my sister!! She still qualifies as a reader!) We were also visited this morning by some Artiodactyl ungulates (I love homeschooling, haha) who availed themselves of the unpicked kohlrabi, the Flowering Almond hedge, the rose bushes, and the cherry tree (though we shooed them away from the last one, because it belongs to Miss P #5 and she is rather protective of her "Romeo" sour cherry. She had a Juliet as well, but --rather true to Shakespearean form-- Juliet shuffled off her mortal coil just months after we brought her home from the greenhouse).
I kid you not, I've seen far more wildlife in my own backyard on the prairies than I did on our recent trips to the mountains and forests of Banff, AB, and British Columbia.
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I guess you should laugh. I like this webpage, a service of the University of Regina. It's got lots of good info and interesting facts about my beautiful province, Saskatchewan. But the poster boy for "Arts and Culture?" Oy vay. (We DO have symphonies, ballets, operas and Broadway plays here too.) I love "Corner Gas," by the way. It's funny because it's frighteningly true to life. (Think Napoleon Dynamite, but further north.) Truth is far stranger than fiction. The stuff that takes place in my own small town is so funny/crazy/scary, it actually makes Corner Gas look like the Parliament Channel by comparison.
Our local paper doesn't have a funnies section. It doesn't need one, not when you have the Police Report. (Note to our American readers RCMP= Royal Canadian Mounted Police.) Yes, the Mounties, the guys who "always get their man" ...but not always the car or the dog, as the case may be.)
Also note: the names of the towns blocked out are not one town, but three, and none of them are the town where I live. Just so you know. Corner Gasis funny because it's true.
Um...that is because it SPED AWAY.
Now if only we could get rowdy townsfolk to act like dogs!
Oh, scratch that.
Maybe stupidity was a factor too.
As I was saying...
Mrs. Beazly, I'll start writing my book if you start writing yours. On your mark, get set... GO!
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Kudos to the editor/typesetter of the local paper for using quotation marks correctly.
Who knew there was such an entity as a Don Cherry impersonator? Yet there is. And it gets better: Mr. Robertson's business/act is marketed as clean comedy. Good for you, sir!
This just in, via email. Not sure why I received it, because I am not a member of the CWL, but that's a story for another day. You know what? I'm not even going to fisk this, because you gals are all smart enough to do it yourselves.
And I'm tired. I have some dishes to wash, and a school day/week to finish (a.k.a. "mentoring my children in their Education Story") and a long article to write, due Monday. And later I'm going to "take a baby step towards food sovereignty" by cooking dinner, using some veggies I grew last summer in my garden--and I didn't even need a workshop or small group sharing to accomplish any of it!
In short, I'm going to observe International Women's Day by being a MOM, in the Mom Arena. (BTW, the "Food Arena" sounds like MY kind of sports facility. I wonder if that's where they stage The Hunger Games...)
I just have this to add: "Unrecognized leadership roles"??? Has this lady never heard of, oh... women PIONEERS? This is the part that really burns: my TAX dollars are funding this detritus.
Just think on this for a moment: to observe International Women's Day (a feminist feast day), the government (run by feminists) is using confiscated tax dollars to teach women how to cook and raise gardens. Do you know why women lost these skills? Feminism. Head exploding now.
From the ongoing Adventures in Unnamed Town. (You know you need to get out more when you find yourself reading the police blotter in your local paper.)
A youth in Unnamed Town called alleging an assault after he had his arm scratched and was chased by an associate. RCMP investigated the matter and it was determined charges were inappropriate in the circumstances.
Ahem, it seems sad to have to point this out, but in my day, getting scratched and chased was called "rough and tumble" play. I hope my house never gets broken into or anything, cuz if I call the cops they might all be out responding to an alleged game of Kick the Can.
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I would trade some of my fellow townsfolk for him in a hurry. This guy's crime? Growing vegetables. In my town, we have idiots who pop wheelies on their dirt bikes going 100 km an hour down the street, and driving their trucks backwards nearly as fast. Chapter 2: Dawn of the Brain-dead...
I'll have to include these in my forthcoming novel about how bizarre life can be in small-town Saskatchewan. From my local paper:
An assault occurred in the (unnamed town) area after a dispute between grain bin builders. The victim was allegedly written on with magic marker and then struck in the face. A suspect has been identified by RCMP and charges are pending.
Just "allegedly" written on? I mean, couldn't they see the ink marks? Or how about this one:
A theft of mail was reported in (unnamed town), however there was no evidence of any criminal activity or that anything was stolen.
"But constable, I just know they took my Walmart flyer!"
