Drum roll, please... NUMBER TWO-HUNDRED!

Thanks for joining me and being part of this momentous occasion in my teeny-tiny little corner of Cyberspace -- and thanks for the suggestions about what to post. I will use some of those suggestions, and ignore the rest of them, such as the photo of me wearing nothing but my Crocs.

THE PLATFORM SHOE INCIDENT
It was March, 1976. I had turned 18 about a month earlier, and was working at the Cinequois Theatre, the movie theatre in my hometown of Iroquois Falls. The Cinequois was owned by my best friend's Mom, and I was affectionately referred to as The Assistant Manager.
The previous summer, I had visited another friend who was working in Toronto for the summer, and bought the most bitchin' pair of platform shoes -- zippered boots, really -- with a two-inch sole and three-inch heel. They gave me extremely painful shin splints, but sure were cool, especially when I was also wearing elephant pants and puffy-sleeved shirts.
On this fateful night, I wore the boots to work at the theatre. During the nightly screening, it had rained outside, then the temperature dropped below freezing, leaving a nice coat of ice on the sidewalk. As I was leaving work, I slipped on the ice, fell forward, and braced my fall with my hands. The next day, my left wrist was extremely sore. So I went to see the doctor, and ended up in a cast from my fingertips to my elbow for a month, with my hand at a double-90-degree angle in the cast. I had broken a little bone in my wrist not much bigger than a fish bone.
I never wore those stupid shoes again.

Finally, to use one more suggestion from my Cyberfriends, here's a photo of moi on my second birthday -- February 8, 1960. Colour photography wasn't very common, good or affordable back then, but no, my father did not chisel this photo out of a stone tablet.

So that's it: Post #200. Kinda underwhelming, eh? For 201, I'll tell you about the kid who delivered my mattress today, and could be the next Canadian Idol.