In memory of my buddy

Twenty-six years ago today, I lost one of the six best friends I've ever had. Greg was killed in a car accident between Timmins and Iroquois Falls. I'll spare you the gruesome details, other to say it was a Friday night, he had been in Timmins and was coming back to Iroquois Falls to catch last round with the rest of us.

Greg was 22 at the time. He would have turned 23 in September. He died the day before Terry Fox did, and if you look at the photo, you'll see the physical similarities. In fact, a friend I have made in the last couple of years saw this pic of Greg on the bookcase in my dining room and thought it was Terry Fox. Terry was also our age.

It's hard to believe today that Greg has been dead longer than he was alive, but it also reminds me that his favourite song was Trooper's "We're Here For a Good Time (Not A Long Time)".

He and I and the other five guys made up what our parents called The Dead End Gang when we were teenagers. The seven of us were almost inseparable. The surviving six haven't all been together in the same place in almost 20 years. We don't do the greatest job of staying in touch either, but we know -- and have talked about this often -- that whenever you need one of the other guys, he's only a phone call or email away. We have supported each other through weddings, relationship break-ups, and the loss of parents.

The Gang formed -- actually just kind of happened -- when we were all about 14 or 15. We did a lot of partying and growing up together. When we were all 16 and 17 (six of us were born in 1958, and the pup of the Gang -- Karl -- in '59) we supported Bill through the death of his dad. We also ran the family business -- the local movie theatre -- for about a month, until Bill's mom decided whether she wanted to continue to run it alone. That was a lot of responsibility for a group of teenagers, but also a great learning and bonding experience.

Greg was the Romeo of the Gang. He loved the ladies, and they fell for his charms. He was also the biggest joker, but when you needed a pick-me-up or a backhanded kick in the butt to get over whatever teen angst you were going through, you could count on Greg.

There are four or five days at the end of June, 1981, that I remember, but through a fog of shock and grief. I was a pallbearer for my buddy. He, Bill and I had coached the local Juvenile hockey team with Greg's dad, and every one of the boys from that team were at the funeral, acting as an honour guard. For that, I am proud of them to this day.

In my column that week at the newspaper where I worked at the time, I wrote that friends might die, but good friendship never does. Looking back 26 years, I can confirm that. I think of Greg and the rest of The Dead End Gang every day, and am thankful that fate made us friends.

I have visited Greg's grave at least once every year, and will continue to. Of course now, I also have my Mom's grave to visit in the same cemetery.

Here's to you, Greg. You packed a lot of living into 22 years. I only wish it could have been for a lot more years.

And to The Dead End Gang: As we've gotten older, some of the macho barrier that prevented us from verbalizing how much we mean to each other has gone away, and it's easier when we meet, to express that. As fate brought us together more than 30 years ago, may it bring the six of us together soon for a time of fun and reminiscing. I just know it will feel like it had only been a few days since we last did.

This is almost like holidays!

It's now almost 1:30 a.m. I have been finished work after a seven-day stint for almost two hours now. I don't work again until Saturday and Sunday, after which I have another three days off! Woo-hoo!

Tomorrow (Wed.) I'm going to the Faith Hill/Tim McGraw concert at Scotiabank Place. I read that they put on a three-hour show in Toronto on Monday night.

I've also decided that I'm going to start to play tourist in my own city. After living here for more than two years, there is really very little I have seen, or attractions, etc. that haven't seen in several years, when I really was a visitor. I'm going to check out the museums and galleries, act like a tourist in the ByWard Market instead of someone who works in a building there, and just experience this fabulous city. I might start later this week with a tour of the Diefenbunker. A guy I work with is also off this week, and wants me to go with him.

I already love Ottawa, and hope not to leave here until I retire in 15 1/2 years. Now, I intend to reiterate that love by really getting to know this city.

Crap, I feel old today...

It's not because I'm heading into day 6 of 7 in a row at work. The upside of that is that I'm off Wednesday, Thursday and Friday; work Saturday and Sunday (albeit 14 hours on Sunday) and then have two more days off.

No, what has me feeling old today is my stupid memory for numbers and dates, and the realization that I graduated from Grade 13, THIRTY YEARS AGO TODAY! Oy, my aching bones.

I wasn't even at the graduation ceremony. The head of the guidance department talked my mom into going to accept an award that I won. You see, I was in Calgary, captaining my school's Reach for the Top team in the national championships. We lost the final game to a school from Winnipeg by 25 points -- but that's a story for another day.

Oh well, I'd better stop getting depressed about these milestones. Still to come in the next seven months or so: Little Bro Dan's 25th birthday in August, and my 50th in February.

Anyone else feeling particularly old today?

How I know Lynn Johnston

When I was in college in North Bay in 1984, we learned that Lynn Johnston, the cartoonist from For Better of For Worse, had recently moved to nearby Corbeil (pronounced kor-BEEL in those parts). Someone in my class knew exactly where, so I was dispatched with a TV crew to go to her house and try to get an interview.

We drove up to her house, and I got out of the van and knocked on her door. Sure enough, Lynn answered. I told her who I was and what I wanted. She commented that it was the first contact from local media in the six months or so that she had lived there. When she asked me when I wanted to do the interview, I commented that it wouldn't be fair to ask her to do it right away, but could we set a date. Lynn looked out the door at the college van with the crew in it and said "You have all the equipment in there, don't you?" I said yes, and she said "Oh, what the hell -- come on in."

We did an interview at her drawing board that lasted, if memory serves, about an hour. I still have the audio tape of it, in a box somewhere. She is the nicest, most down to earth person. There is absolutely nothing pretentious about her. She also gave us a tour of her very homey house, on the shore of Trout Lake. She showed us tapes of K-Mart commercials that were about to air, and mentioned that a TV series was in the works. She, her husband and kids had auditioned to be the voices of the Pattersons. The kids got the gig, but the producers didn't think Lynn and Rod were believable enough to be Ellie and John Patterson, the characters modelled after themselves.

I met her on a couple of other occasions, when I was working in radio in North Bay. I recall one time doing a live interview with her on our FM station's noon-hour talk show, that I just happened to be filling in as its host.

Fast forward about 15 years. December, 1999, I was in Sudbury to co-host a Christmas telethon that aired on TV right across Northeastern Ontario. The hotel where I stayed is attached to a shopping mall. On the Friday night, I took a stroll through the mall, and noticed that Lynn would be autographing her latest book -- "The Lives Behind The Lines..." the next morning at the Coles store. So I lined up that morning.

When it was my turn, I mentioned to Lynn that she might not remember me, but I had interviewed her when I was in college, the first interview she had done since moving to Corbeil. "I remember you," she said. "You came right up to my door, and had the equipment with you." I was almost floored. To think that this international celebrity who had probably done hundreds of interviews since that one, would remember! So she autographed my book "For Bob, who has the equipment!".


I have a framed photocopy of the page that I have proudly displayed in the five apartments I have occupied since that day.

Lynn also explained that she has to be careful how she autographs books. One time, a woman asked for an autograph for her husband for their anniversary. "Are you saving it for your anniversary, or is he getting it tonight?" Lynn asked. The lady said he'd be getting it that night, so Lynn signed the book "To George, who's getting it tonight." The woman was insulted, and insisted on getting another book.

Anyway, that's my Lynn Johnston story. I continue to read her comic strip every day.

By the way, right after getting the autograph, I called my parents, who knew I was a big Lynn Johnston fan. I told my Mom that I had bought the newest book. "Take it back!" she said. It turns out that she had just bought it for me for Christmas. Obviously, I couldn't take it back, so she did.

My Mom also enjoyed "For Better or For Worse", and had a hummingbird feeder at the cottage. One time, Lynn's weekend strip featured Michael Patterson helping a hummingbird that had accidentally gotten into the kitchen. He cradled it in a towel, got it back outside, then wrote in his journal something along the lines of "They say that once in your life, you get to hold a miracle in your hands. I just did." My Mom got the strip laminated and put it on the cottage fridge with magnets. It's still there, five years after Mom died.

This is for Ma

KAPUSKASING, Ont. - Police say they believe that two children younger than 12 years old started a fire that torched a community landmark in Kapuskasing.
The Kapuskasing Inn went up in flames May 22, damaging much of the building's structure.
But police say charges won't be laid because of the ages of the children, who were inside the building when the fire began.
One of the kids is accused of sparking the blaze, but police have provided no details on how it started.
Under the law, the children are too young to be held responsible for a crime.
OPP Det. Sgt. Todd Selvage says the incident wasn't an explicit act of arson, but rather `vandalism that just went too far.'

Barbecue recipes, please

Okay, the barbecue is set up, the cast iron grills are seasoned and cooling. In the next half hour or so, I will cook the first steak on my new 'cue.

So let's be a bunch of old ladies and trade recipes. I'm particularly looking for marinades for steaks and chops. Remember, I'm diabetic, so the less sugar, the better.

I'm also going to look online for the beer butt chicken recipe, or ask Cathy for it.

Please, don't be like my great-grandmother who would trade recipes, but intentionally leave out an ingredient or instruction or two, so that the other old lady wouldn't make it better than she could.

UPDATE: I just ate my first steak cooked on the new barbecue. Melted in my mouth. Tomorrow, I'm going to try a chicken breast!

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Happy Father's Day to all Dads, especially THE Dad in our little cyber family, JB. I hope the recuperation is going well.

I called my Dad last night, knowing that I would be working today, and going out for din-dins tonight.

I love and cherish my Dad, and hate what the ravages of time are doing to him and his once-sharp mind.

I haven't seen my Dad (who I usually call "Paw", as the grandchildren all do, including Little Bro Dan) since last July, and look forward to spending some time with him and StepMama next month.



This is Dad/Paw, taken last year at the cottage. I've never gone this long without seeing him in person, so I'm really anxious to go to the cottage next month.

Say it ain't so, Ma

The Mattagami Motor Hotel, the only strip joint left in Timmins (if it's even still open), is being torn down this summer, and Future Shop plans to build a store on the lot.

Check it out here: http://www.channel3news.ca/main2.htm

I think we've talked about the "Mattag" here in Blogland before. For non-Northern Ontarians, it's pronounced mah-TAW-gah-mee, just like ken-AW-gah-mee and teh-MAW-gah-mee (Kenogami and Temagami). And Ma is originally from Kapuskasing (kap-uss-KAY'-sing, not kah-PUSS-kah-sing).

Anyway, Timmins without the Mattagami is, well, better I guess in some ways; just not as sleazy.

Sigh.

Mushroom Cloud Alert

I'm getting a natural gas barbecue! There's a connection for it on my balcony, and this is the first building I've ever lived in that actually encourages barbecues. So I can pick it up on Thursday, and hope to have it fired up by Saturday night -- Monday at the latest, because of my stupid work schedule.

So I've also been shopping for barbecue tools, etc., and have noticed some unusual things. My friend Cathy makes Beer Butt Chicken (totally yummy; drink half a can of beer, shove the can up the chicken's butt; the rest of the beer bastes the bird from the inside) and now commercialism is even catching up to that with a stand for Beer Butt Chicken. Sucker bait -- it stands on the beer can, Stupid.

Sidebar story: I bought some barbecue tools at WalMart today, and was in line at the 8-items-or-less express checkout behind a stupid bee-atch who obviously can't count. Problem is, the cashier doesn't enforce the 8-items-or-less rule. Anyway, when Bee-atch unloads her cart onto the counter, I get between her and the cart. Then when she has checked out her 43 items, she turns to get the cart, and there it is -- gone! I got a certain amount of satisfaction out of that. Serves the ignorant bee-atch right.

I think the cashiers should have to enforce the express rules. At WalMart, your receipt has the number of items you've bought on it. Management should keep track of such things, and lay some heavy crap on the cashiers for anything over eight items at the express checkout.

Dammit, one day the world will work according to MY standards! Unfortunately, I can't bite off my nose to spite my face. I'm already boycotting Zellers, so I can't do the same to WalMart.

There. My Cranky Old Fart rant is over, and I feel much better.

Thinking of JB

Hey, fellow Bloglodytes. Our blog buddy is scheduled for surgery tomorrow to replace a hip. I'm not sure if he'll see this before then, but if you do, JB, all the best. We'll be sending good vibes your way.

May you be back on your feet and bouncing Liam and Morgan on your lap really soon.

Oh, the wonder that's the CRTC

The CRTC decision on the sale of CHUM to CTVglobemedia came down this morning. I can only imagine the impersonation of headless chickens being done by management at both companies.

CTV wanted to buy CHUM Radio, the five Citytv stations and all of CHUM's specialty channels, and spin off A-Channel to Rogers Broadcasting. The CRTC, whose decisions can rarely be predicted and often defy logic, is saying "Okay, you can have radio and you can have A-Channel, but you can't have the City stations."

From what I can see so far, that sends us back to the position of wondering wtf will happen to us. Logic would dictate that CTV would keep us (A-Channel) and let Rogers have Citytv, assuming Rogers wants it. But who knows? Again, logic rarely works in these situations.

Of course, on a totally personal level, it has me wondering again about my own future. Rogers guaranteed our jobs until the take-over was completed (probably 18 months to two years) and beyond, because they were planning to implement more local programming. Time for another polish job on the old resumé, I guess.

Man, this business of broadcasting has been eternally jinxed by that old Chinese wish, "May you live in interesting times".

Yo, Milky: You might not be getting rid of me from the building after all. Hah!

Mommy, it's ooooooooooooover!

Full props to the Anaheim Ducks. They played better in the Stanley Cup finals, and deserve the Cup.

Sens: There's always next year, and you have a long way to go before you're as futile as the Leafs.

Thanks for proving that this city is not the conservative, stuffy town that fun forgot. It's been a great ride all season, especially the past month or so, and it's all because of you and the great hockey you've been playing.

There's no shame in being runner-up, but it sure sucks. Hold your heads high. The disappointment will wear off, and be replaced by the pride.

HBC rant update

You might recall the hassle and the trip through Customer Service Hell that I experienced last month, regarding delivery of my new washer and dryer.

After I cooled off a bit, I decided not to pursue the matter, and resolved not to make any more major purchases at Zellers.

Then, on May 22, I went lamp shopping for my new living room. I found the exact floor lamps I wanted for my living room at Home Outfitters, which is another HBC outlet. I wanted to put them on my HBC card, mostly to qualify for double HBC points. For some reason, my card was rejected.

The cashier -- a very pleasant, patient lady named Sophie -- called customer service to inquire. On her way to acquiring a living, breathing human to speak to, the automatic answering machine told her that the full payment on the washer and dryer had been made May 15. After several minutes with that living, breathing human, Sophie was asked to hand the phone to me. I was told that although the payment had been made a week earlier, it wouldn't be processed until the next day, so I was over the $1,000 limit on the card. I wondered how that could happen when the washer and dryer totalled more than $1,000, and was told that the salesperson who processed the transaction must have overridden the limit, but that couldn't be done now for $136 worth of lamps. Just because the payment for which they had record wouldn't be processed for another day!

After about 20 more minutes on the phone with Sophie -- get this -- the other woman HUNG UP! Sophie was determined to get it done for me, so called back. That started another 20 minutes or so with another person, who tried to walk Sophie through an override, but gave up when it wouldn't work, and told Sophie there was nothing else that could be done, and ended that conversation.

Un-freakin'-believable. I really wanted the lamps, otherwise would have walked about 30 minutes earlier, and eventually paid for them on my Visa, minus the bonus HBC points, of course. I thanked Sophie profusely, and left with my lamps.

Before I could cool off that time, I emailed Customer (Dis)Service, and recounted all the stupidity I had been through. The next day, I got a reply that began with an apology, and asked me to call "Tina" at a toll-free number, to discuss the matter further. I left a message for Tina, and am still waiting for a call. Today is June 6, that was May 24.

I know that my personal boycott of HBC will have no effect. I won't even ask you to join my boycott. However, I do implore you to remember what I've been through when you contemplate a major purchase at any HBC store. That includes the Bay, Zellers and Home Outfitters. God forbid you have any problem, because Customer Service is a complete misnomer to that company.

I could understand if I was a deadbeat with a bad credit rating, but nothing is further from the truth. Remember: I had paid in full for the washer/dryer purchase. The company even had record of that, but it hadn't been processed, whatever the hell that means. I'm the guy who gets antsy if his Visa card is showing a balance. With the exception of a couple of summers when I was on vacation for a month, so cable, phone and Visa payments might have been a few days late, I have never fallen behind in any payments.

Customer Service indeed!

Camp Day tomorrow (Wed., June 6)

If there's only one day this year that you have a Tim Hortons coffee, please make it tomorrow. It's annual Camp Day, and all the proceeds from coffee sales go to the Tim Hortons Children's Foundation, and its camping programs for under-privileged kids.

Not only did I participate as a celebrity server for one or two Camp Days for Ma, back when I was a local celebrity in Timmins, but Little Bro Dan benefited from one of the camps.

Porcupine Big Brothers and Big Sisters nominated two Little Brothers and two Little Sisters every year, for a trip to camp -- and as far I know, still do. I can't swear to it, because it's almost seven years since I lived in Timmins.

However, in 1994, the second year that Dano and I were matched, he went to camp in Kananaskis Country, in the Alberta foothills. He went on an overnight horseback riding and camping trip and did several other neat things. That was half his lifetime ago, and he still talks about it once in a while, so it must have been a positive experience.

So please, have a coffee tomorrow, and anytime you're in Tim's, drop at least some of your change in the coin box. And think of my Little Brother, how special he is to me, and how his Tim Hortons camping experience contributed to the fine young man he has become.

I've blogged about Dano before. Anyone who has seen any of those posts will know that he's now a paramedic in Timmins. The photo here was taken in 1999, when he was 16 or 17 and I was, well... younger than I am now. I'll sign off here, before I get carried away, as I tend to do when talking/blogging about Dano.

Don't forget: Camp Day tomorrow! Have a coffee!

Man all battle stations!

OHMIGAWD! Our little blog clique/club has been infiltrated by another South Porcupinian! (See the comment from Mark on my most recent post.)

Confession time here: I love this blog and its blog buddies (i.e. Nat's, Ma's, JB's, Maria's, Milky's, formerly CQ's, etc.) but I've kind of kept it to myself. I haven't told anyone about it.

When the "small world" thing has hit, such as when JB told me he used to work and play hockey with Kurt, a current co-worker of mine, I just told Kurt that JB and I hang out on a couple of the same blogs. It's been kinda my guilty pleasure, although there's nothing here to be guilty about. Most of my closest friends know me well enough that nothing on here would surprise them anyway, but I just haven't felt like getting them involved in it, as if I'm trying to keep my real world friends and my blog friends separate (although some fit in both categories). Anyway, Mark, you're welcome in either category any old time, too.

To the rest of the group: Mark and his wife Cathy are good friends of mine, and Joanne -- who we lost a couple of weeks ago, as you will recall -- is partly responsible for that. Mark and I got to know each other when Jo was working at the United Way, and got us together to produce promotional videos (Mark owns his own production company). Countless good times have ensued. I was even MC at Mark and Cath's wedding almost 11 years ago. In fact, I missed Shania Twain Day in Timmins to go to the wedding in Collingwood! If that's not friendship...

There, it's out there! I feel much better. :)

And now, to show off a puppy picture of my own. This is Maggie, the nine-month-old Yorkie who's the "baby" of Little Bro Dan and The Pretty Christine, when they visited Maggie's Uncle Bob last week. She has since had her bangs cut, so her beautiful eyes are more visible.

It's "CA-NA-DA", dammit!

For at least the second time this NHL playoff season, in a U.S. rink, the anthem singer has called our country can-IH-dah. The first time I heard it was, I think, during the Ottawa/New Jersey series. It just happened again in Anaheim.
Come on, you people. You might know two-thirds of sweet f***-all about the huge country just to the north of you, but how hard is it to pronounce "Canada"?

As for The Star Spangled Banner, Stephen Stills remembered all the words, but his singing made it The Star Mangled Banner. I'd love to hear Randy, Paula and Simon's reviews.

Randy: "Dawg, it was aight, but awfully pitchy and off-tune in spots."

Paula: "(Something incoherent about you're as beautiful as a butterfly and we all love you)."

Simon: "That was absolutely atrocious. Horrific. It was lahst place at a high school musical karaoke competition. You wouldn't lahst at the Holiday Inn."

GO SENS GO!

Here it is!

Cheesy, huh?

I think by the looks of it, I'm going to be in the 10% of people for whom a henna tattoo doesn't take very well or last very long. But hey, for five bucks, what the hell...

I got a tattoo!

Okay, so it's a temporary henna tattoo that will last 7-10 days, but for a straight-laced, conservative guy like me, it's a major step.
Across my bulging left bicep, it says "GO SENS GO!".
Yes, I'm caught up in this city's Stanley Cup Fever. Just minutes before getting the tattoo, I bought a Go Sens Go t-shirt.
I was at the rally at City Hall at noon hour Thursday, with about 15,000 other people. Our TV station went live for an hour, and I was doing crowd control and bodyguarding for our camera dude and on-air dude doing interviews in the crowd. I had a blast!
I'll try to post a photo of my tattoo in the next couple of days.

WTF? Montrealers should be outraged!

So starting this year, The Centre of the Universe (a.k.a Toronto) will have a Just for Laughs festival.
What up with that? Why, oh why, would JFL organizers in Montreal even have the first -- never mind second thought of branching out to Trawna?
I attended Just for Laughs three or four years ago, just for one day, but it was a blast. Montreal should seriously keep it for itself, and let Toronto come up with an original idea of its own for once.
My only hope is that the entire announcement about JFL Toronto is just a joke -- a Just for Laughs Gag, if you will.
I mean, for the love of Pete, Toronto hasn't even won the Stanley Cup in 40 years. In fact, the Leafs have never won the Cup in colour.

Come on, Montrealers, let's hear some outrage.

Look what I bought!

Whaddya think? They're not even knock-offs. They're real Crocs with the real NHL logo hologram thingy on the tag, which I guess I should take off before I wear them. I'm hoping they're comfy and not too hot, being rubber and all. That could lead to a real cheesy smell emanating from my footal area.

GO SENS GO!

Tah-dah! Bob's New Crib

Alrighty, then. I have finally gotten the new apartment to the point that I can share photographs. What I haven't taken pics of: the balcony (165 sq. ft.), the bathroom that isn't the en suite off the master bedroom, or the utility room which houses the washer and dryer. Here goes:









Any questions? Avez-vous des questions?

How 'bout them Sens?

First time in franchise history in the STANLEY CUP FINAL!
This city was nuts yesterday afternoon and last night -- and the game was in freakin' Buffalo!
Just wait 'til the Senators win the Cup!

Cops with a sense of humour -- go figure!

Go to the Cornwall, ON police website: http://www.cornwallpolice.com and click on "Contact Us" and "Contacts". You will hear Chief Clancy Wiggum from Springfield Police say "No, you got the wrong number. This is, um, 9-1... two."

I am doing LAUNDRY!!

It has been a long and winding, sometimes bumpy road, but I have arrived!
In the next hour or so, I will have clean socks and underwear -- something that the people closest to me might appreciate even more than I do.

Special thanks to Uncle Den (bro-in-law) for helping me figure out that I'm not a total girl, it's just that the dryer kit I bought was the shitz, and for getting the right one. Kudos also to Marc, the workguy on this construction project, for proving that Den and I aren't girls, either, when it comes to getting the stupid plug off the drainpipe. It took him about ten minutes and a broken X-Acto knife blade. Why the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is there a plug on it in the first place? Just so it has to be broken off to use??? Sheesh.

Yes, Laundry Mountain is shrinking, and will cease to exist in the next couple of days. Hallelujah.

Ahhhh... life is good.

Have a great long weekend. I'm working tomorrow and Sunday, but have Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday off.

Good Lord, it's quiet in Blogland

Where the heck is everybody? Didja all get grounded and lose your computer privileges?

Joanne Krakana Frost 1954-2007 R.I.P.

I just learned today of the death of a friend.
I first met Joanne Krakana shortly after moving to Timmins in 1987. She was receptionist and campaign assistant at the Porcupine United Way. We struck up a friendship by working together on promotions, particularly video presentations. That is also how I got to know my good friend Mark Rogers, and his wife, Cathy.
Jo, Mark and I were sometimes referred to as The Three Mouseketeers. We sometimes got into mischief together (Joanne's favorite story being how we got Vaseline smeared all over her mother's hardwood dining room floor).
Jo had married quite young, had two kids, and suffered through an abusive relationship that she eventually escaped. She made the best of it, getting an education and a decent job. She eventually moved up to the position of executive director at the United Way, until she was felled by serious health problems. I attended her retirement party in April, 2002.
In between times, Jo met Mike Frost. To say he worshipped her would be an understatement. Jo took Mark and me out to supper one night, to see if we could talk her out of marrying Mike. I think she expected us not to put up a good argument, but didn't suspect that we would tell her she would be crazy not to marry Mike, who, as I said above, worshipped her and treated her like a real lady.
A couple of years ago, Mike and Jo left Timmins, as his career took him to Western Canada. Mike works on remote mining and exploration sites, and while he was onsite over the weekend, Joanne died. She was found yesterday, after not having shown up for work. She would have turned 53 this coming Saturday.
Jo: Thanks for the good times, and the caring friendship you provided (such as the thoughtful care package you sent to me, shortly after I moved to Toronto -- and that's just one small example). I will continue to admire your tenacity, for not letting an abusive first marriage get the best of you, and for turning it around to make the best of it; and the courage to try marriage again, when someone who truly loved you entered your life. And Mike, thanks for giving Jo what I know were the happiest years of her life. The pity is that there won't be any more of them -- you deserved a long, happy life together.

One more note: Mike and I have another connection. He was Little Bro Dan's second Big Brother, I am the third. The match ended when Mike's work commitments made it too difficult to continue it.

Finally, if there's a Heaven, Jo is there. Rest well. Even though Earth would be a better place if it were to have you longer, you deserve it.

My next rant target: Canada freakin' Post

I haven't had mail since I moved in to my new crib two weeks ago. I asked the contractor/building manager today, and he told me that Canada Post refuses to deliver here until the middle of July.
First, it's because no mailboxes are installed in this building. That much I can understand. But the arrogant S.O.B. from Canada Post also told Joe that delivery doesn't take effect until three months after notice that a new building is ready, and that notice was only filed a month ago.
What a crock! Are Canadians not entitled to mail delivery?
I went to the nearest postal outlet, at Shoppers Drug Mart in Blackburn Hamlet (the part of Ottawa in which I live) and was told I have to inquire at the post office in Orleans. That I will do tomorrow. Hopefully my mail is waiting there (including my new driver's licence and insurance papers for home and car). Either way, I am going to contact my MP. This is crap.
I also intend to push to have my six-month change of address service extended, to begin the day that mail is finally delivered to this building. I paid about 40 bucks to have my mail re-directed from the old place, and it ain't happenin'.

Grrrrrrrr.

Oh, the mysteries of life

Why are tornadoes attracted to trailer parks, and bird poop to cars?

My Zellers/HBC rant

I am almost fully unpacked, and my brand-new apartment in the brand-new building is awesome. Even the natural gas fireplace is operational as of Tuesday morning, which was the hottest day so far this year at that point.

Now, the rant:
I bought a stackable washer and dryer from Zellers, at an amazing price. It was delivered to my place last Tuesday as planned, but had two broken legs, so I refused delivery. I have spent the last week in Customer Service Hell -- hell, I tells ya.

I called the toll-free Customer Service (BIG misnomer)number, and got HBC Customer Disservice in Montreal. After at least five calls, I was finally told last Friday that the model I bought was no longer available (I knew it was a discontinued model, thus the great price), and there were no more at any HBC outlet anywhere in Canada. So I would have to go back to the store, pick another model, and pay the difference.

So Saturday after work, I did go to Zellers, and lo and behold, there were two of the damned things on the sales floor! I eventually spoke to the appliance department manager who said he had one, if not two still in cartons in the stock room. I told him if he could have one delivered to my place, it would be case closed. Unfortunately, he followed protocol and called Customer Service (I cringe when I use that term), who called me on Monday and said they could deliver it Wednesday afternoon. However, they couldn't give me a precise time, and I had to be at work for 2:30, so they're delivering it tomorrow between 8am and 1pm. I got a call today to confirm that again, and make sure they had the address right. I almost said "You already have it, remember?"

Sheesh. What a hassle. What an unnecessary hassle and example of gross ignorance, incompetence and disregard to the customer. What happened to the customer being number one?

I don't expect special treatment, just good, basic service. Zellers/HBC failed me big time. Now if they don't deliver tomorrow...

...Aaaaaaand, we're back!

Finally! Rogers got its act together, and I have full service again. Now, if I can only give Zellers a kick in the ass to get my washer and dryer here. Did I tell you that when they delivered them on Tuesday, two legs were broken, so I refused delivery and have been stuck in Customer Service Hell ever since?

Anyhoo, more Punta Cana pics, and the closest you'll get to seeing me in a Speedo. I call this one "Why I should get my arse back to the gym and start working out more regularly":

This was taken at Macao Beach, about halfway through our half-day ATV excursion. Beautiful place, but the beach needs a good clean-up. And, of course, every stop just happens to be at some place where stuff is for sale. "My friend, come see my table..."

And now, as promised, Santa Claus:


More later. Have a great weekend.

At long last, a wedding pic

...And no, although it might look like I'm the groom, I'm not. But isn't my little sweetheart, Tessa, the most beautiful bride you've ever seen?
I'll post more, once Rogers gets its shite together, and gets my phone and internet working. And unless Maria apologizes, that will NOT include Speedo pics.

Also coming up in a later blog/rant, I'll rail against so-called customer service, related to my move into the new crib, and taking direct aim at Rogers and HBC.

Later, Gators.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Just got home shortly after 1am. I was up at 6am for the useless three hours before the flight thing. The bus was supposed to leave the resort at 7:25. At 7:30 the Air Transat/Nolitours rep showed up to tell us the flight was delayed by two hours, and the bus would be leaving at 10:00. By the time we got to Toronto, got the Park Plaza to send enough shuttles for all 55 of us (as was supposedly pre-arranged last week), it was 8:30 by the time I was on the 401. I had a passenger to keep me company, and keep me awake. The boyfriend of the groom's cousin goes to school in Ottawa, and missed his connecting flight from Toronto by ten minutes.

I and several others say that when we book a vacation from now on, we will avoid Transat whenever possible. The flight to the Dominican was also delayed last weekend. Either Transat doesn't have enough equipment to handle its passenger load, or the equipment isn't reliable enough. (Maria or anyone else is welcome to comment on this. You have the topic -- discuss!)

Anyway, it was a great, memorable week.

Beddy-bye time now. My sister is coming over at noonish (just over 10 hours from now) to help me finish packing for Monday's big move.

I'll be in touch after that, the good Lord and Rogers cable/internet willing.

Hola from Punta Cana!

This place is beautiful, even in the rain.
It rained when we got here Saturday, rained yesterday (a 3-hour torrential downpour starting at about 5pm), and it's been cloudy with off-and-on drizzle again today.
I haven't wandered out of the resort yet, but have a couple tours coming up later in the week. The wedding is Thursday.
I had a great phone call with JB on Friday, as I was driving on the 401 and he was on the air, from about 5:20-6:00pm.
If I have some more down time, I'll check in later in the week, but internet time is limited to 20 minutes a day, unless you want to pay big pesos for it.

Later, Blog Gators.

I have the keys!

Yes, ladies and germs, I have the keys to my new, deeluxe apartment.
Of course, there's a story behind it: Yesterday, I stopped in the rental office of the building I'm now in, to make sure the elevator was available for May 1st. "No," I was told, "you have to move out on April 30th by midnight."
Crap! Everything was already set for May 1st: mover, couch and washer/dryer delivery, the whole shebang.
So a quick phone call to the new building manager got me the okay to move in a day earlier. The mover said no, it was impossible, so I said I wouldn't cancel them yet, but could they suggest someone else? It's amazing what happens when you threaten to go to the competition. All of a sudden, they could make arrangements, and would 8:30am be okay?
So, seeing as I'll be away all next week, new building gave me keys today, and a quick look-see at the apartment. BEE YOO TEE FULL! All that's left to do is move in the fridge and dishwasher, and touch up the paint in a few places.
All I have to do now is get Sunday, April 29 off. I'm supposed to work, but now with the move moved up a day, I kinda need the day to finish packing. I'm wishing I hadn't dragged my ass the past couple weeks.
Speaking of which, I gotta go now, and get in another hour of packing before going to work.
Later, Blog Gators.

American Idol Justice is Done!

"Nah nah nah-nah, nah nah nah-nah, San-jay-ah, gooodbye".
Sanity and credibility have been restored, and the world is turning as it should.
However, I think American Idol is trying to be too much more than a singing contest with American Idol Gives Back. Come on, people, there are enough great organizations doing tremendous work to save the world. Just stay true to your roots, and do what you do best: Finding Your... American... Idol!

Newsguy Bob out! (Not to be misconstrued with outing myself.)

By Popular (?) Demand (?)

"Father," asked the young Native boy, "how do Native children get their names?"
"Well," his father replied, "the child is named after the first thing that the father sees, hears or feels immediately falling the child's birth. For instance, Wind in the Leaves, or Thunder in The Sky. Why do you ask, Two Dogs F***ing?"

Little Bro Dan and I are both Métis. He is fifth generation, I am fourth. You can go back five generations to qualify for a membership card in the Métis Nation. Métis is non-status, so it is not a status card. Dan has his membership card.

One time when Dano was 16 or 17, my dad was teasing us good-naturedly about being Métis, and asked if such things were taken into account when Big Brothers were matching Bigs and Littles. I said I wasn't sure, but that it might be. "Right, Two Dogs?" "Yep," Dan replied, sending my dad into near convulsions of laughter that started with a snort and almost made the poor guy pee his pants.


My name is Bob, and I come from a very weird family.

How I made mashed potatoes go through my brother's nose

How's that for an attention-getting title?

It's a true story, and it didn't happen when we were kids -- we were in our 30s.

Dementia itself is nothing to laugh at, but you have to find humour in everyday things, even if they're a result of dementia. Our Grandpa McIntyre had been a strong, athletic, very self-confident man. But in his later years, he was robbed of all that and his dignity, too, by dementia. He spent the last six of his 89 years living in a chronic care unit because of it.

One Christmas, while Grandpa was living in chronic care, my parents were spending the holidays at my sister's house in Ottawa. So a couple of days before Christmas, Danny and I went and got Grandpa, and brought him to Danny's house for supper.

Grandpa didn't seem to know who these nice young guys picking him up were, but he must have figured it would nice to get away from the hospital for a while. When we got to Danny's, Grandpa was extremely pleased to see Candy, my sister-in-law, calling her by name, and giving her a big hug and a kiss. That struck us all as a bit odd, because it's short-term memory that goes, and he had only known Candy for maybe 15 years, and Danny and me for our whole lives.

During supper, he started talking about my parents. He remarked how my mom -- his daughter-in-law, Cec -- was "a fine, fine woman". He then turned to me sitting next to him, and asked if I knew her very well. My reply, without a split-second of hesitation: "Oh yeah, she's like a mother to me."

That's when the mashed potatoes came through Danny's nose. He and Candy both left the dining room very quickly, into the kitchen, in absolute hysterics.

And that, boys and girls, is how I made mashed potatoes go through my brother's nose.

Ask me sometime how Native boys get their names, how it relates to Little Bro Dan and me, and how we used it to make my Dad snort and almost pee himself.

My name is Bob, and I come from a very weird family.

I have a new dognephew

Get this for nerve: My 19-year-old niece, who is just finishing second year nursing at University of Ottawa and still lives at home, goes out and spends $375 for a dog, without even consulting with her parents. PLUS she has a summer job that will take her to Michigan for three months this summer.

When my sister told me about it on the phone Saturday night, there was no way Jack was staying. Michelle had to find someone to take or buy him. Even yesterday afternoon when I phoned because a co-worker showed some interest in adopting Jack for his two little girls, Jack had to go. But by suppertime, an agreement had been reached so that Jack could stay, and grow up with Zoey.

He is kinda cute. He's half Chihuahua (yeah, N@) and half Great Dane. Just kidding! He's half Chihuahua and half Pomeranian. He's nine weeks old, weighs just a couple pounds, and looks like a miniature fox. The lady with no teeth in Plantagenet who sold him to Michelle says he could grow to ten pounds, but I doubt it.

Zoey, the giant Golden Doodle who thinks she's a lap dog isn't very impressed yet, but is already showing signs of acceptance. When another dog takes one of her toys, she growls and takes it away. With Jack, she just waits until he puts it down, and then takes it back. She's also being insecure and clingy, so everyone's making a point of praising her and letting her have a dog biscuit whenever she darned well wants one.

The size difference is amazing. Zoey weighs about 60 pounds, and her head is bigger than Jack. She could crap bigger than Jack!

On another note: Four more sleeps until I head to Toronto, and then the Dominican after one more sleep -- but who's counting? And I have so much to do, I should haul my ass away from the computer.

Later, blog gators.

Ya gots ta love Wikipedia

Yesterday, Wikipedia's entry about Sidney Crosby said he lives in California with his wife, Jessica Simpson and their three children. Today it says "Sidney likes long walks on the beach, and candle-lit dinners with his boyfriend, Mats Sundin."

That's gold, people, pure gold.

My own Sidney Crosby joke: Have you seen his playoff beard? Neither has he.

GO, SENS, GO!

Water vs. wine

In a number of carefully controlled trials, scientists have demonstrated
that if we drink 1 liter of water each day, at the end of the year we would
have absorbed more than 1 kilo of Escherichia coli, (E. coli) bacteria
found in feces. In other words, we are consuming 1 kilo of Poop.
However, we do NOT run that risk when drinking wine (or rum, whiskey or
other liquor) because alcohol has to go through a purification process of
boiling, filtering and/or fermenting.
Remember: Water = Poop, Wine = Health
Therefore, it's better to drink wine and talk stupid, than to drink water
and be full of shit.

Another public service from your buddy Bob

Whaddya have to do to give furniture away?

So, the Diabetes Association wanted my couch and chair, but its drivers can't come up to my apartment to get it. So I call the Salvation Army, who can come up to get it.
I was told the truck would be here between 8:30 and 3:00 last Tuesday. So I waited all day, not even showering in case I missed them, and they didn't show up. So I rescheduled for yesterday, but when they got here, the elevators were out of order, and they wouldn't walk up to the third floor. The driver told me they had been here last week, but no one was home. I told him that was BS, because I waited all day. So he promised they'd be back first thing this morning. Besides, the woman who rescheduled the appointment checked their list or manifest or whatever the heck you call it, and said "Oh, yeah. They didn't make it to your place." It's now 10:05, and no show yet.

Sheesh.

One more frustration: I signed up for Rogers Home Phone the day I called to have my cable TV and internet service moved to the new place. The nice, obviously gay young guy asked me to call back the day after the phone service was installed, to take care of the transfer. No problem. Well, okay, problem: When I did call back, the guy I talked to said the new building isn't in their system yet, could I wait two days while that situation is rectified? No problem. Well, okay, problem: I actually gave it more than a week, calling yesterday. Guess what? Not in the system yet. I made no bones about expressing my displeasure, cranky old fart that I am (although I feel sorry for the eight bucks-an-hour call centre people who take crap for someone else's screw-up or inaction). This guy said he would flag the request, and someone from Rogers will call me within 48 hours to confirm that everything has been taken care of. Wanna place bets on it?

There. I feel better just for venting. Anyone want to share similar stories?

A travel tip that not even Maria can give you

If you are planning to go to London England from New York, may I suggest *NOT* following Google Maps directions. Here's why:
1. go to www.google.com
2. click on "maps"
3. click on "get directions"
4. type "New York" in the first box (the "from" box)
5. type "London" in the second box (the "to" box)
6. scroll down to step #23
A public service from your buddy Bob

Happy Easter Boxing Day

Beatcha to it, N@!

Nursing an Easter egg hangover,
NGB

I SHOWED HIM!

So a homeless panhandler thinks just because he says Happy Easter, I will give him money. NOT!
I punched him in the eye. Now it looks like a black, blue and purple Easter egg. I showed him! Get your money the way I get mine: I have a job and work for it! At least do something for the money, like the guitar guy next to Beaver Tails, or Fat Guy on Fire, or the white-faced human statue, or the smart-assed young guy with the sign that often changes, but sometimes says that he needs money for beer. At least he's honest. Sheesh.

Thank you for tolerating my Crabby Old F**ker rant, fellow bloglodytes.

HAPPY EASTER

I hope you have a great one.
Special wishes to Maria, JB and their great families. Easter, like Christmas, is to a large extent for kids.

Canadians are SO polite...

...even litterers have manners. There was garbage outside the front door at work today, in a garbage bag that was properly closed! (Cue rimshot...)

Happy Easter, and don't forget the working people, like me.

American Idol has jumped the shark

It's now a total joke, thanks to the idiots who hijacked it with the online campaign to keep Sanjaya in the mix -- although he wasn't all that bad last night. Maybe he should be crooner.

Regardless, AI's credibility is now zero in my mind. I gave up on Canadian Idol a few seasons back, because of Jon Dore and Ben Mulroney. Not even the removal of Dore was enough to make me want to try to stomach that lightweight Mulroney.

I'm a big boy now!

It's about time, too, considering I'm ten months away from turning 50.
As of today, I own my very own washer and dryer, and my own couch. The big move to the brand new apartment is four weeks from tomorrow, and getting more real all the time.

Again today, though, something to temper the enthusiasm: I found out that a young guy, same age as Little Bro Dan, and played hockey with him for a few years, has been busted for robbing a cab driver in Timmins, and trying to rob the local movie theatre. He's facing a long list of charges, including robbery and weapons possession, and it's not the first time he's been in trouble. I'm afraid he's going to the big house.

Dan and I have been chatting online about it, making wisecracks. But we're also talking about how sad and disappointing it is on one hand; and on the other hand, how it makes me that much prouder of Dano.

Sure, the alleged robber's parents are divorced and both remarried to different spouses, but they seemed to be doing a good job of raising him. His dad was our hockey coach one year (I was manager/trainer), and he was always strict with his son. His mom was a good hockey mom, too, following him to games and tournaments and on the surface at least, getting along well with Dad and Stepmom. But, as my mom always said, you can only do your best, and teach your kids values and morals, but they eventually all have minds of their own, and make their own choices -- all you can do is hope that the values and morals you taught and demonstrated leads them to the right choices.

Hug your kids tonight for me, will you?

I found a man for CQ!

Check this out: http://www.achannel.ca/ottawa/news_42252.aspx

The dude with the Mohawk mullet, wearing the very stylish sweatpants that make a definite fashion statement on his 300 lb. frame.

CQ: I can get his name and phone number for ya. Just say the word. AND he works at Hershey's in Smiths Falls, at least until it closes later this year, so he has access to a lot of chocolate! Damn! You've already done your Easter Bunny shopping for Evan, haven't you?

Back off, the rest of you women, I'm reserving him for CQ. I don't imagine he's already spoken for.

:-))))

Hey, JB -- it's weigh-in time

Just back from Dr. Strangeglove's office, and I am doing marvellously. My weight is down another 2 kg (I'm now below 200 lbs.), blood pressure is down, blood sugar is down, cholesterol is down but triglycerides are still too high, so I have new medication for that.
All that and I haven't worked out for two weeks because of the stubborn cold that I think I have finally gotten rid of. Back to the gym tomorrow.

How's it going, JB? I know you're busy at work and with the Tinks and you're just getting over being sick, too, but -- not to come off as preachy here -- I had a whole bunch of excuses, too, and that's all they are: excuses. You can lift weights by getting each Tink to hang on to an arm. Your strength and their weight will increase together. There's exercise for you!

C'mon, the gauntlet is down! :)

Anybody want Grandma's chesterfield?

It and the matching chair are outta here next Tuesday, when the Salvation Army comes and picks them up. Along with them will be two or three bags of clothes, mostly the snappy suits and sport jackets I wore when I was a news anchor all through the 1990s.

I wanted to give everything to the Diabetes Association, but its guys can't/won't come right into the apartment and carry the furniture out of here. So I'll be watching for my old clothes on the backs of the guys who hang around the parking lot I use in the Byward Market, right next to the Sally Ann shelter. They'll look snappy, I tell ya -- about ten years out of style, but snappy!

I'm also junking out some books and DVDs that I'll likely never read or watch again, and giving them to some women at work who hold crap sales occasionally for their charity of choice. The voices in my head are fighting over whether I'm gonna weed out some CDs, too. Hey, one man's crap is another man's gold mine, the voice called Pappy is saying.

Can you tell that I'm getting psyched for the big move? I'm not counting sleeps yet, but I am getting psyched.

Have a great day, everyone, and remember: last call for Bob's crap. Ya snooze, ya lose.

Things are starting to move

...although I don't physically move until May 1st.

I have hired a mover and made arrangements to have cable, internet and phone moved over. At the same time, I signed up for Rogers Home Phone, abandoning Bell. Until two years ago, I worked for Bell, kind of, because it had majority ownership of CTV. Now my only connection will be the 302 shares of BCE that I bought on the employee purchase plan.

Now I have to get my arse in gear and start the packing process, first by relieving myself of a lot of junk I have accumulated over the years.

I have also decided that besides the washer and dryer that I'm buying, I'm also going to buy some living room furniture. Right now, I have my grandparents' chesterfield and chair. They're not antiques -- I remember when they bought them when I was a teenager. But they are from the 1970s and showing some signs of age, and when I look at them, I think that I can't move them into a brand new apartment. So I've begun shopping. My sister and brother-in-law and his sister told me last night at supper, that Ashley Furniture has great stuff. I went there today, and there sure is some beautiful stuff, and not terribly expensive, either.

I've been looking around for a washer and dryer, too, and today, I found just what I need at Zellers, of all places. A Beaumark stackable pair (heh-heh, "stack"able "pair") for about 200 bucks less than anything else I've seen. I looked on the internet, and Beaumark is made by General Electric, which also makes several other reputable brands. I think I'll go back to Zellers and score the bonus of big-time HBC points.

Any input on Beaumark appliances is welcome, fellow bloglodytes.

I am an adrenalin junkie

I have been reminded today why I love my career. It's for the occasional adrenalin rush when you track down a story and nail down the details.

You might need to have worked in news to understand this, without thinking that I'm taking joy from someone else's misery. Trust me, there is a disconnect between the non-feeling, objective journalist and the human being who does, indeed, share the pain.

In this particular example, we learned today of a young Canadian drowning in Cancun. We then learned that he is from Ottawa, and were able to get his name and his place of work. We are now scrambling to get enough material, including an interview with his boss, in time for our 6pm news (it's almost 5:30 now).

It's not the exploitation of someone else's pain that gives you the adrenalin rush -- it's the chase to get the elements you need for a solid story that will tell our viewers not only who it is who drowned, but who it isn't. It's also the adrenalin rush you get from the satisfaction of putting your skills to work, and scoring very positive results.

By the way, the elements are falling into place. We will have a solid story at 6pm (Star Choice 342 or ExpressVu 209) and again at 11pm. That will be another source of satisfaction and adrenalin.

At various points during the process, I have paused to feel for the young man's family, and will again, when I reflect on the process that results in the story. Truly tragic. Twenty-three is too young to die.

The First Sign of Spring

...and I have seen it! I don't need no stinkin' robin to tell me it's spring! Shortly before midnight, walking through the ByWard Market after getting off work, there it was: A GUY IN SHORTS!
Sure, it was 11 degrees earlier in the day, and 6 degrees with no windchill when I saw him (at least, weather dude Bill Welychka said it was 6 degrees on my 11pm newscast), but HOLY FREAKIN' CRAP MAN, IT'S ONLY 6 DEGREES AND IT'S ONLY MARCH 22nd AND THE HIGHEST THE TEMPERATURE GOT TO DURING THE DAY WAS 11 DEGREES. Are you nuckin' futs or what???
Cripes.

She double-double dared me!

Ma Horton did, to post some of my baby pics. There aren't a whole hell of a lot of them, what with me being the second boy and middle child -- something I forgave my parents for many years ago. So here goes: This first one is New Year's 1962. I'm about five weeks from my fourth birthday, my brother is 5 and my sister is four months old. The second one is Christmas, 1960, and the one below is Christmas, 1962. That's all I gots, on my computer at least. And don't even ask about my teenaged years. No way. You'll have to use your imaginations.

Happy St. Patrick's Boxing Day!

That's all. Tag, you're it!

An Old Irish Blessing

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,and rains fall soft upon your fields.

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

(Or, as I believe the Irish Rovers used to say "...may you be in Heaven for half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.")

Drum roll, please...

I was at my doctor's office today about this stupid recurring cold that's been around since Christmas. She wanted to weigh me, to see how the diabetes thing is going. I've gone from 95 kg (about 209 lbs.) to 92 kg (202 lbs.) in 16 days! Tah-dah!

Doc complimented me, and I told her "You know, it's not that difficult." She wouldn't accept that, saying that it IS difficult. Either way, that's encouraging, and incentive to keep up the battle.

I must be totally candid, and admit that the encouragement from my fellow bloglodytes has helped.

GROUP CYBER HUG!

A little cyberpoll I hope you'll participate in

I just came back from my workout at Cuts for Men (the male equivalent of Curves for Women). I've only been a member for about a month and a half, and been there maybe 12 times.

Today, the manager was there. I haven't seen her since the day I signed up. She said to me: "Are you ever losing weight. Holy crap!"

My question: Did she just say that because of who she is? I need your opinion.

More background: I've only lost three or four pounds, and need to lose about another 30 or so. I still have the classic middle-age paunch, and don't like looking at myself in profile, or naked.

I really think she just said that. Let me know what you think.

One more note while I think of it: If you are among the dozens of people who I accidentally spammed yesterday with a pain in the ass thing from flixster, I sincerely apologize. It started with what I thought was an email from one of my hockey players. Next thing I know, everyone on my Hotmail address list is receiving this email thingy from me.

I'm getting the hang of this diabetes thing

I've really been more careful of what I eat. I'm opting for salad instead of fries (which I never ate a lot of, anyway), I think I'm past the craving for my daily can of Pepsi, and am succeeding at not noshing on the goodies that so often come in to our newsroom.

I haven't given up on my two cups of coffee a day. But now, instead of double-double, it's sweetener and milk in it. I'm also drinking tea more often, just black. It's even recommended in some of the literature I've been reading.

Heck, tonight I even cooked fish for myself. I've never done that. The closest I ever got to that is breading and cooking fresh pickerel at the cottage for my dad and me, and whoever else happens to be around. And tonight, I even had corn with it. I have never cooked veggies for myself.

I'm also learning what I can't eat. Last night, I had take-out Chinese from a place down the street that makes it great. I'm not sure if it was the chicken balls in cherry sauce or the honey garlic ribs, but my blood-sugar reading two hours later was 14.1 -- the highest it's been since I started testing it. The target range is between 4 and 7. Next time, I'll get chop suey or some other veggie-based dish to go with the egg roll and fried rice. If the result is similar, I'll swear off Chinese food. It's all entirely do-able.

So I'm getting there. I had even lost a couple pounds when I weighed myself at the gym last week. Going there is something that I'm going to have to do more often, too, but a lifetime of habit/routine is going to take a bit of time to totally change.

Sighhhhhhhhhh

Here I am, drinking tea that I made in my Tim Hortons teapot that Ma Horton gave me, drinking it out of the Tim Hortons mug that I stole at work (Tim's is a big sponsor of A-Channel Morning), wondering when Ma is getting home from her jetsetting vaykay, so she can dish out some of her humour, innuendo, double-entendres and sage advice.

Where oh where has Ma Horton gone,
Where oh where can she be?

Rrrrrrrrolling up the rim made easier

This morning on A-Channel Morning here in Ottawa, we featured a guy who has invented the rimroller. It's a device that saves you from using your teeth and smudging your lipstick (oh, I hate when that happens) while rrrrrrrrrolling up the rim.

Apparently, the rimroller will soon be for sale at all Lee Valley Tools locations for two bucks.

Try Googling rimroller for more details.

Things that make you go WTF

I just finished off a bag of frozen strawberries that I use in smoothies (crushed ice, banana, strawberries, flax seed and cranberry juice all blended together in my blender -- yum!) and noticed on the bag of Europe's Best brand strawberries, it says "Product of Peru". WTF?

This one isn't new or unusual, but still qualifies for WTF: I have an I-heart-NY coffee mug that, on the bottom of it, says Made In China.

Tonight, our hockey coach noticed one of the players putting tape on his legs above his shin pads, and asked about it. I smartassedly said that it cuts off circulation to his lower legs and feet, so that they're numb, and if he takes a shot, he doesn't feel it. "No," this lovable kid says, "they don't get numb. I just can't feel them." WTF?

This is the same kid who, Saturday night, forgot his running shoes in the dressing room. (The boys go for a brief run and quick exercise routine before every game, to get warmed up and stretched out). One of the other boys picked up the shoes. A few minutes later, I see Mikey in the lobby and ask if he got his shoes. "Yeah," he says, pointing to the dress shoes on his feet. WTF? I told him "Mikey, I love ya, but sometimes you're such a dumbass!" One of the other boys correctly responded "Sometimes?"

The Deal Is Done; the Lease is Signed

Just to prove that I'm not obsessed with my upcoming new apartment, here's a pic of my new Little Niece, Little Brother Dan and Girlfriend Christine's puppy, Maggie, just after getting out of her first bathtub experience last night. Isn't she the most adorable little thing you've ever seen? Fully grown, she might weigh five pounds.

Now, on to the other thing: On May 1, I will totally upgrade my accommodations. I will also totally upgrade how much I pay for rent, and start paying for my own utilities, but I think I can afford it, if I'm careful. This might be the cure for my desire to travel, although I still plan to get to Dubai for a visit with college roommate Rick and his wife and son.

I checked out the under-construction apartment again today, and was shown an identical, although mirror-image of my place that's a bit further ahead. B-U-T-full!

A quick tour: Sunken living/dining area and kitchen; not ceramic but GRANITE tiles in entryway, kitchen and bathrooms. That's right, two bathrooms: One with one-piece tub and shower, the other en suite in the master bedroom that has glass shower stall and short, but deep soaker tub. Master bedroom has a ceiling fan (not sure if the other one does); utility room has hook-up for stackable washer and dryer (which I will buy immediately, looking forward to no longer schlepping my laundry down the hall or to my sister's house); kitchen has beautiful cupboards and four appliances (stove, fridge, dishwasher -- which I'm not sure I'll ever use -- and combination exhaust fan/microwave oven); living room has thermostat-operated gas fireplace.. The entire place is 1,060 square feet, not including the 165 square-foot patio with connection for natural gas barbecue. I face south, which should make a difference in my heating bill; and the scenery is a field and a bypass around the part of town in which it is situated. I think that's it. Oh yeah, natural gas. The entire building is well above standards, because the plan is eventually to sell off the units as condos. I hope to be ready to dive into ownership when that happens. And the walls will not be white! They're being painted a light beige, even though the painter we saw in one unit today jokingly called it pink.

We'll have an online house-warming party in early May -- clothing optional, of course.

One more thing to prove I'm not apartment-obsessed: My hockey team starts the finals tonight. GO, RANGERS, GO!

LET'S MAKE SOME NOISE!

My goodness, it's quiet in Blogland lately. The blogs I drop into and participate in are really quiet the past few days.

Let's start off March (by the way, WHITE RABBIT x 3) by making some noise. I'll start:

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROLLLLLLL UP
THE RRRRRRRRRRIMMMMMMMMMMM!

You're next.

Time for a lifestyle adjustment

I was having a great day, what with scoring the new apartment and all, when I got a phone call.

I had been to see my doctor last week for a physical, and she sent me for blood work additional to the pre-physical work, because of high cholesterol and blood sugar. She wanted to see me today, and not wait for the appointment I had booked in two weeks. It turns out I'm diabetic.

It's not a big surprise. My mom was diagnosed when she was three years younger than I am. She was insulin dependent; I am not -- at least, not yet. She lived for another 25 years, but it was ultimately the diabetes that killed her, gradually shutting down her entire system, until her heart gave out one Friday night almost five years ago, while she and my dad were sharing a joke while watching Jeopardy. It was four months after their 50th anniversary.

It's also not surprising, because there has been diabetes on all sides of our family for generations.

I had already started exercising, having just joined a gym. This is incentive to get my ass away from the computer and go work out. My doctor says exercise and keeping my weight under control are the most important. I'm also on medication, and have to test my blood sugar twice a day.

I'm not a big junk food or fast food eater, and already have the basis of healthy eating down pat. I just have to expand on it more, and not indulge in chocolate, Pepsi, and some of the other tastier, more pleasant aspects of food, or whatever you want to call what we cram down our pieholes.

I am going to control diabetes; it is not going to control me.

Moral support and encouragement are welcome.

I'm doing it: It's new apartment time

...and by new apartment, I mean in a building that's just being built. It's going to be beautiful: Two bedrooms, hardwood floors except ceramic in kitchen and bathrooms (full-size bathroom with tub enclosure, and en suite off the master bedroom with a large shower stall and a short, but deep bathtub), natural gas fireplace, huge patio with a nice view and a connection for a natural gas barbecue, 1,080 square feet, hook-up for washer and dryer (which I will buy immediately). In short, it's going to be great.

The building is intended to eventually be converted to condos, which might suit me fine when the time comes, so there are a lot of extras, including soundproofed floors, although I won't have anyone living under me. It's a nice, quiet, residential neighbourhood, and that's a big plus. While the complex I live in now isn't terribly noisy, it's really just a small notch above trailer park.

I take occupancy of the new place May 1 -- three days after returning from the Dominican -- but I might be able to start moving things in by the middle of April.

Excité? Un peu.

Dontcha love technology?

Technology has been a fickle bitch around my workplace lately. Yesterday, the automation that replaced so many people last month crashed, and we had to do our 6pm newscast the old-fashioned way: manually.
Today, everything crashed, including email and the internet, leaving us paralyzed for about an hour.
I was so frustrated and wanted to vent about my love-hate relationship with technology, but my vent -- this blog -- was inaccessible because of the crash.
Sheesh.

Hockey from a couple of different perspectives

First, a note to Milky: The Senators won 4-3 in a shootout. Snicker, snicker. 21 Jump Street, indeed.

Moving along, I just came back from watching a hockey game. No, my Gloucester Rangers weren't playing on a Wednesday morning. The first two games of the next playoff series are Saturday and Sunday nights, at times that Trainer Bob can attend! The game I just watched involved Little Bro Dan, playing with a team of paramedics from Timmins, in an emergency services tournament here in Ottawa.

It has been about seven years since I saw Dano play hockey. He's, um, larger than last time, but still looks like a pretty decent defenceman to me. As for his teammates, well, let's just say they're good sports. One of them has such a belly on him, his jersey doesn't fit over it, and his almost-fluorescent green T-shirt was sticking out. Another can hardly skate -- although probably better than I can, which ain't sayin' much -- but hey, he's out there, isn't he?

Dano's team won the game 4-3 on a last-second goal. The buzzer went as if the puck crossing the line triggered it.

When I had lunch yesterday with Dan and The Pretty One (a.k.a. Christine), he invited me to the game. I asked if the team needed a trainer. Yeah, right! A team of paramedics needs a trainer! Dan joked back that he could just picture me there with my Ziploc bags.

I always carry Ziplocs in the first aid kit. They make great disposable ice packs when filled with snow, which is always readily available around a hockey rink. I use them anywhere a player says he's hurting -- okay, almost anywhere a player says he's hurting. I think about 90% of the time it's more psychological, but hey, it works, and Ziplocs are cheap, if you get them at the dollar store.

Last night at practice, the best fixer-upper was a pack of Halls cough drops. There's a flu bug sweeping through the team. Two boys weren't even at practice, and at least three others were complaining of sore throats, coughs and other flu symptoms. Of course, I wouldn't let them have the Halls while they were on the ice, so they wouldn't choke on them. But right after practice, I was handing them out like molasses candy kisses on Halloween.

Enough hockey rambling. Have a great day.

Not so grand, after all

Doh! I just got a nice letter from the Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation, informing me that I am NOT the winner of $1,000.
It turns out that the play area on which I thought I had won is actually three play areas, and you have to match three symbols on the same line horizontally. As the nice lady says in the letter, "there appears to be some confusion about how to play the SLOTS portion of the ticket." You bet your ass, lady. (Get it? Lottery Corporation lady, bet your ass...?)

I'm glad I didn't spend that thousand bucks.

Oh well, at least my hockey team won the first round of the playoffs.

The passing of a great man

From the newswire tonight:

Hit the mute button for a moment of silence: The co-inventor of the T-V remote has died. Robert Adler was 93. Adler and fellow engineer Eugene Polley won an Emmy for the device that made couch potatoship possible. In his six-decade career with Zenith, Adler was a prolific inventor, earning more than 180 U-S patents. He was best known for his 1956 Zenith Space Command remote control, which helped make T-V a truly sedentary pastime. The National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences awarded Adler and co-inventor Polley -- another Zenith engineer -- won an Emmy in 1997 for the landmark invention. He died of heart failure in a Boise, Idaho nursing home.

Lost, you're losing me

Okay, Lost, I'm almost lost. So Desmond's only purpose in life, aided by his ability to see the future or experience déja vu, is to save Charlie's life. But Charlie's going to die.

No shit, Sherlock. Last time I checked, everyone's gonna die.

Yeah, Lost, you're getting too weird. I just might have to give up watching you. I'm running out of "one more time", so in my world, you might just die.

Fortunately, you've lasted longer than Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip did. It was interesting and kind of fun the first few episodes, but jumped the shark way too soon. It didn't move along, and the rat-a-tat-tat dialogue that Aaron Sorkin brought over from The West Wing got really tired, really fast.

So, Lost, I will watch next week, to see what the three answers to the three biggest mysteries are, but you had better knock my socks off, or I just might remove you from my VCR's weekly recording list.

By the way, Lost, your Yankee-ness betrayed you on this week's episode. When Desmond was outside the military recruitment office, the poster said "For Honor and Adventure". In England, the poster would say "for Honour...". It would be interesting to see how any of your British or Australian characters -- or Ethan, if he really is Canadian -- would pronounce the last letter of the alphabet.

Feeling old on Valentine's Day

Six days after my 49th birthday, and this is the oldest I've felt all week. "Why?" you ask. Read on.

A reporter in our newsroom today didn't know what The Gong Show was. She was doing a story on the snowstorm, and had a clip of a driver saying traffic was like The Gong Show. She wanted to know if it was dirty, or could she use it. I said it was okay to use, and started to explain that The Gong Show was a TV show in the 1970s. "I was only born in 1982," she interrupted.

I gotta find me some chocolate.

It has been a GRAND day... mostly

Working Sunday sucks. I love the work I do, but the fact that I have to do it weeknights and weekends when I'd rather be doing a lot of other things really tempers things.

But things at work are getting better. We almost have the new automation tamed, although it does throw some unexpected curves at us occasionally.

Another thing getting me down today was that my hockey team was playing the first game of the playoffs, and I couldn't be there. But the boys won 4-2, and apparently played a great game all around. On the up side, I can go to tomorrow's game, because Monday and Tuesday are my days off. So put two ticks on the plus side.

After work, I went to my sister's place for my birthday supper, albeit three days late. (And yes, we call it supper, not dinner. My parents and grandparents always used "dinner" in reference to the midday meal that most us now call lunch). The roast beef with mashed potatoes, gravy, carrots, Yorkshire pudding and tomato sauce cake were all excellent. Another big tick on the plus side.

Here's what made it a GRAND day: Also awaiting me at my sister's house was a birthday card with some lottery scratch tickets inside, and I won a thousand dollars! A grand tick on the plus side.

When I got home, I told Little Bro Dan on MSN about winning the thousand bucks. He phoned right away, to give me his mailing address, so I would know where to send his share. Talking to him is always a tick on the plus side.

But he also phoned to tell me that a young guy who played on a hockey team I managed in the early 1990s and with whom Dan has worked a couple times, committed suicide. My heart is aching for the young guy (early 30s, I think) and his parents, who are wonderful people.

That kind of puts a damper on my grand day, while also putting life into its proper perspective. It also makes me that much happier that I can spend some time with my hockey team tomorrow night. I've really missed the boys the past couple of weeks, with my schedule and theirs not meshing. I saw them briefly last night at a pizza get-together after their practice. They all seemed genuinely happy to see me, with several of them telling me how they've missed me, a couple of them asking whether I would be at today's game, and settling for the consolation that I'll be there tomorrow. All that, too, provides proper perspective on days like today.

On MSN, under my name, the signature line or whatever it's called has a motto that I like to think I live my life by. I first saw it on a plaque that my cousin has at her beautiful cottage in the North Laurentians : "Work like you don't need the money; love like you've never been hurt; and dance like nobody's watching". Amen to that.

Happy Birthday to me

Pardon the lack of modesty, but today definitely IS all about me!
Yep, today, old Newsguy Bob is 49. As my sister pointed out in an email this morning, that's so close to 50, it's scary. Easy for her to say -- she's only 45.

I'm counting on JB to tell me what it's like to hit that apparently magic age of 50 when he does this year.

Meanwhile, I'm still very young at heart, healthy and working on being even healthier, and looking forward to what the year ahead has to offer. I figure that I came through the slight turmoil of the last half of being 48 quite well, what with the spectre of possible unemployment hanging over my head, and that prepared me for the potential uncertainty that might arise this year, with the inevitable divestiture of A-Channel Ottawa by its new owner, CTV.

And I do work with a great bunch of people at A-Channel. Several of us went out for wobbly pops after work last night. Not only did my birthday arrive at midnight, but we were saying farewell to a co-worker. Sports dude Arash Madani did his final sportscast last night. As of Monday, he's the Ottawa/Montreal correspondent for The Score. Watch for this guy, he's going places. A true talent and a great guy.

So back to me because, after all, it is MY day. Watch for a glow in the sky emanating from Ottawa, in case someone presents me with a birthday cake.

Have a great day -- MY day.

I did it! I dropped the F-bomb on a telemarketer

It was so spontaneous. Here I was, running back and forth to the laundry room, because of having to wash every towel I own, mostly due to the flood in my kitchen the other day (a topic for another post, another day) and my phone rings.

After the five-second wait and me saying "Hello... hello... hello" while my name popped up on the caller's screen, "Hello. May I speak to Mr. or Mrs. -- F*** off!" and I slammed down the receiver. I didn't even give the poor little recent immigrant a chance to mangle my last name. Then again, he might not be an immigrant at all. He might actually be calling from India, where, I understand, a lot of telemarketing jobs have gone lately.

But being the wuss that I am (both my hockey team and my crew at work have giggled on the rare occasions that I dropped the F-bomb"Heh heh, Bob dropped the F-bomb". As saucy as I can be, I just don't cuss a lot) , a few seconds later, I felt bad, and wanted to *69 or whatever it is to call the number that called you, and apologize to Apu Telemarketerapetalon.

I've discussed this here before: Telemarketers are only doing their minimum-wage jobs, trying to make a living. But Dude, if I want to buy something, I'll call you.