The colourful season is over

Yesterday: 26C and sunny. Today: Relentless rain and 11C. But for once, I did not waste the beautiful weather yesterday, and actually got off my ass and went for a walk with my camera.
Unfortunately, the autumn colours around Ottawa have passed their peak. But I did get this rather interesting photo that illustrates that. I guess there's no denying that winter is indeed on its way. This is Canada, after all. And being a native Northern Ontarian, I know how to cope with it. It beats the Hell on Earth happening in Southern California right now.
Have a good rest of the week.

Peoples is weird

Okay, singing a song slightly under your breath is one thing, but a woman I encountered in Dollarama today was trying to outdo Lionel Richie on "Say You, Say Me" which was playing throughout the store. Honestly, I heard her from one aisle over, this fairly sane-looking woman pushing a stroller. First thing I thought was what would Simon Cowell say? and the next was that subjecting her poor baby to that awful squawk is child abuse.


And yes, I sometimes shop at Dollarama, when quality is not an issue. All I was looking for was a cheap picture frame for this great pic of me, Little Bro Dan and Pretty Christine, that was taken at the 25th anniversary party for my sis and bro-in-law. Christine is the one on the left.

I take back what I said about Drew Carey

They're into Showcase Showdown #2 as I write this, and he's not bad at all. As usual, he laughs a bit too much and too heartily at his own jokes, but I think he'll do alright on The Price Is Right. Actually kind of refreshing from old Bob Barker.

I do wish, however, that he would lose the horn-rimmed glasses. Sure, it's part of his schtick, but he's beyond that now.

This is kinda disturbing... but I love it!

http://youtube.com/watch?v=zzkOW8tOZX4

A fellow weekend news producer at Citytv in Toronto sent me this link. The whole subject arose out of our Barrie station doing a story on hunting safety today, and our London story asking for the story, saying there are a lot of Elmer Fudds in that area, too. That led to me sharing my knowledge of the Elmer Fudd language tool available on Google.

Click on ‘Language Tools’ on the Google home page, then scroll down to the language list. There’s also “Bork, bork, bork!” and Klingon. Don’t ask how I discovered all of that.

I hope your weekend is vewwy, vewwy quiet. Heh-heh-heh-heh. Elmer Fudd RAWKS!

A Pox on Canada Post

...and may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your letter carrier's skivvies.

I have lived in this new building for almost six months now, and still, no mail delivery. I was so p.o.'d about it last week, I went to my MP's office. This morning, shortly before nine o'clock, I was awakened by a phone call from Canada Post (hey, I work until 11:30 tonight and have to be back in at 9:30 tomorrow morning, so I was still sleeping, okay?). This -- ahem -- gentleman tells me that he was at the building this morning, and still won't approve mail delivery, because the parking lot isn't paved yet. He goes on and on, telling me how under new legislation, if the letter carrier gets hurt, he could be sued, blah blah blah. I remind him that I have been living here for almost six months, and know of no one who has been hurt on the property, and how his answer is unacceptable. He replies that until the parking lot is paved or someone above him orders him to start delivery, it won't happen.

Good gawd, one of my neighbours on the ground floor uses a walker, and my next-door neighbour walks with a cane because of bad knees, and we all get into and out of the building fine. Mr. Canada Post A-hole says it's dangerous for a letter carrier to carry trays of mail into the building. TRAYS OF MAIL?!? There are twenty apartments in the entire building!

What's worse is that we don't simply have to go to the Shoppers Drug Mart about a kilometre away to get our mail. Because of the postal code we're in, we have to go to the Orleans post office, which is about five kilometres away.

I do agree with Mr. A-hole that it's about time the parking lot was paved. The tenants have been bitching to the landlord about that. In fact, I have left a message for the building manager this morning, after talking to Mr. A-hole. Regardless, I refuse to accept claims that it is unsafe for a poor little letter carrier.

The Canada Post attitude is stereotype government/crown corporation arrogance. Competition -- as impractical a concept as that is -- would certainly pull a few heads out of Canada Post arses.

In the meantime, I have now vented, and feel better for it. BUT I'M STILL NOT GETTING MY F**KING MAIL DELIVERED!

Seven things about me

My gawd, my life has been rather unremarkable. I come to this conclusion after being tagged by Kitty for this "Seven things about me" thingy, and trying to come up with a list. I've never shot a man just to watch him die; I've never climbed Mount Everest; and my name is not on the Stanley Cup. I'm slightly bashful about the list that I've come up with, but here goes:

1. I was on Reach for the Top in high school -- in Grade 11 and again in Grade 13. I was captain that last year, and we made it all the way to the national final representing Northern Ontario, before losing 340-315 to Manitoba. We were closing the gap during the final snapper questions, but ran out of time.

2. While in Grade 9, I was in our high school's production of Bye Bye Birdie. I had the most minor of the starring roles. I was Randolph McAfee, the 12-year-old brother of Kim McAfee of Sweetapple, Wisconsin, who was chosen to get one last kiss from Conrad Birdie, before he was inducted into the army. I could still sing then, because my voice hadn't completely changed.

3. The summer I was in college (1984), I had a total of eight jobs. The only full-time one was as maintenance man/painter/grass cutter at the sewage treatment plant in my home town of Iroquois Falls. Hey, it paid $6.04 an hour and all I could eat! (Ba-doom-boom!)

4.I hate canned peas. It's because when I was about three, I gagged on them and puked all over the supper table. My parents never made me eat them after that. I do, however, love fresh, uncooked peas right out of the pod.

5. I don't own any teddy bears at the moment. But when I was news director at CKGB/CFTI Radio in Timmins in the late 1980's, I spearheaded the project to put two teddy bears in every OPP cruiser between Timmins and Hearst, Chapleau and Matheson, and the radio station paid for them. Coincidentally, the first two kids to receive the bears were kids of friends of mine, when they were in a fairly serious car accident.

6. When I was 20, I sold real estate in Timmins and Iroquois Falls for about five months. Long story short, there was a definite credibility problem involved in a 20-year-old trying to sell homes to people in their 30s and 40s. From there, I went on to become a management trainer at two S.S. Kresge stores: first in Sudbury for about eight weeks, then Toronto for another six. After that, I got my first media job.

7. I am named after my maternal Uncle Bob and my paternal great-great-Uncle Tom. My full name is Robert Thomas McIntyre.

That's it. Try not to be too underwhelmed.

iPod advice, please

Okay, fellow Bloglodytes, time to help Newsguy out here.

I'm planning to buy a good MP3 player before going to Dubai, cuz I'm gonna be spending a lot of time in the air and in layovers in Munich, Frankfurt and Toronto. (iPod has become the generic name, like Kleenex, Xerox, Coke and aspirin, hasn't it?)
I've bought cheap ones in the past -- three times, I think -- in the 25-to-60-dollar range, and have finally learned that you only get what you pay for. So the advice of anyone who owns a good one is needed and appreciated, please.

Chuckle if you wish at some of my questions, but at Newsguy School I learned that the only stupid question is the one you don't ask. So here goes: If you buy an actual Apple iPod, you can still download music from a PC, right? Can I download some of the music I already have on my computer and/or from my extensive CD collection (the remastered Nelson Eddy and Jeannette McDonald collection is amazing!)?

A friend at work whom I plan to also consult says not to waste money on iPod, cuz you pay for the name, and some of the other models/generic brands are as good if not better. True?

Please, help out a Cyberpal here, will ya?

And if you live in Ontario and haven't voted yet, get off your arse before 9pm/8 Central time. I voted last week at an advance poll, cuz I'm working tonight as part of A-Channel's election coverage. If you don't vote, you can't bitch about the provincial government.

Big Brother (Orwell-style) is watching me!

First, Happy Thanksgiving. No, I did not have turkey dinner. Let's not go there, shall we?

I'm not sure if it's a product of now working for a much bigger company (CTVglobemedia), but all of a sudden late last week, the stupid net-nanny, WebSense, quit letting me post comments on blogs from any computer at work. Milky, are you having the same problem? Heck, it won't let me on to t's blog at all. Frustrating, especially when I have an especially clever comment, and can't use it! It's like bein' all spruced-up and splashing on the Aqua Velva, but no date except the inflatable lady who lives in my closet.

Well, we had a surprise party on Saturday night for my sister and brother-in-law's 25th wedding anniversary. My nieces, 17 and 20, did a great job of setting it all up and keeping it a total secret until their folks arrived. We had it at second cousin André's house. His super-organizer wife, Jen, gets a lot of credit for opening her home to us, and guiding Caitlin and Michelle along the path to party success.

Here's a couple pics I took. I'm waiting to get some from the girls. One of Michelle's friends was official photographer for the evening. The joke is that she's Asian, so you know the shots will all be good. I haven't seen any yet, but hear from sources that they are, indeed, well done.
Tomorrow is the actual date of Dale and Den's anniversary. They're leaving for Italy for ten days tomorrow night. (By the way, Dale is my sister; Den is short for Denis, my bro-in-law).
The party was wonderful. A super bonus for me is that Little Bro Dan and Pretty Christine dropped in for an hour or so. When I get the photo of the three of us, I'll share it. Man, I love those kids.

And, okay, here's why I didn't have turkey dinner: Dale was supposed to cook one yesterday, but was too tired from the party to cook, so we ordered pizza and wings instead. To be honest, I was a bit peeved, because if I had known sooner, I had been invited to Christine's parent's house for turkey, but declined, because I had already been invited to Dale's. However, Dale did not know of the other invitation. I'll survive -- I'm a tough old goat.

You Might Be A Part Of The Taliban If...

...You refine heroin for a living, but you have a moral objection to beer.

...You own a $300 machine gun and $5,000 rocket launcher, but you can't afford shoes.

...You have more wives than teeth.

...You think vests come in two styles: bullet-proof and suicide.

...You consider television dangerous, but routinely carry ammunition in your robe.

...You've ever been asked, "Does this burka make my ass look fat?"

...You were amazed to discover that cell phones have uses other than setting off roadside bombs.


Thanks to my buddy Chris for this. The answer to the burka question is "No, why don't you go to Giant Taliban and buy some bit of bum pads?"

Your next CANADIAN IDOL!

Okay, so one of the guys who delivered by new bed from Sleep Country Canada on Tuesday told me he tried out for Canadian Idol, but didn't make it past the producers, into the audition room with Sass, Zack, Jake and Farley. The producers told him he was too shy. He also thinks he chose the wrong song, because a lot of people sing Stand By Me (the movie of the same name, incidentally, is one of my all-time favourites).
He also told me he isn't in a band, but sings Karaoke a lot. Uh-oh! Should that set off alarm bells? You be the judge. Pepe also participated in a contest run by Tourism Ontario, singing its newest jingle. You can check it out and vote for him online: http://memelabs.com/ontariotourism/index.php?play=605&page=61&mode=recent
He says he'll try out for Idol again next year. I told him I would watch, because I now have a reason to, and haven't watched Canadian Idol, because I can't stand Ben Mulroney.
By the way, if you check out the link, you can vote for my new friend, too, and help him in the tourism jingle contest. He says a lot of people are voting for others, by using a lot of bogus email addresses.

Oh, one more thing: By the time you read this, it will likely be time to say "White rabbit". :)

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.

What should I do for Post #200?

Yes, my next post will be number 200. So I'm looking for ideas on how it should reflect that milestone.

I like revelling in life's little accomplishments or achievements or acquisitions that to others might seem trivial. But hell, why not?

For instance, I'm awaiting delivery sometime in the next couple hours of a brand new bed, my first queen-sized bed (No, Kitty, it doesn't mean that at all). And in case you didn't notice, last week I was celebrating having booked my trip to Dubai. By the way, did I mention how jazzed I am about it?

So let's hear from you: What can I do to mark post number 200 on my blog?

I'm gonna be on the Interweb Thingy

I am featured in today's edition of "Inside A-Channel" on AChannel.ca/ottawa.
I'm producing tonight's 6:00 pm show, and our anchor, Sandra Blaikie, interviews me about what's coming up. It should be online by four o'clock.

Before you say anything, I'm having a bad hair day, hence the pouffy thing at the front (it's time for a haircut), and the red Senators T-Shirt is because our station observes Wear Red Friday every week, in honour of Canadian military personnel. Also, you'll see that the computer I'm working at has two monitors. The right-hand side one has the photo of me and my sibs.

Okay, watch away and comment away: I'm ready for it.

I'm the big bad wolf

I participated in something today that is, frankly, disturbing.

For a series called "Stranger Danger" which will run during fall ratings coming up next month, we at A-Channel in Ottawa asked parents to let us know if they wanted their children tested, to see if they knew how to respond to being approached by a stranger. The idea came from the disappearance of Cédrika Provencher in Québec last month.

Today, we tested two girls. I played the part of the stranger. I was equipped with a hidden camera and microphone. One of our ENG camera operators was using a camera hidden in the back of a van, while the reporter putting the series together used a mini-cam in the van, getting the mothers' reaction while each scenario unfolded.

In the first scenario, I was looking for Zoey, my lost dog, as ten-year-old Chelsea came walking down the street, on her way to school. I asked her if she had seen Zoey, and gave her a poster with Zoey's picture on it. Chelsea immediately started talking to me, calling for Zoey herself, telling me her name and where she lived. When I asked if she would come in my car to look for Zoey if I dropped her off at school, I could feel the wall go up between us. She kept walking towards school, and said if she saw my puppy, she would phone me.

In the second case, five-year-old Stephanie was brought to a park by her mom, who works part-time in a building on the edge of the park. After playing for a few minutes, Stephanie's mom told her she had to get something at the office, and she should sit on the bench and have some candies and water. After Mom walked away, I walked over to Stephanie, called her by name, and said I worked with her mom and she would like me to take her to her. With no hesitation, Stephanie started packing up her things and came with me. She wouldn't talk or hold my hand, but responded to all my questions with head gestures. When we reached the parking lot and the camera van, Mom opened the door and stepped out.

Each mom was shocked and upset, but kept repeating how glad she is to have participated in the exercise. It gives them a starting-off point to reinforce or expand on their warnings about stranger dangers.

Chelsea passed when it came to not getting into the car, although I could have easily dragged the little thing into the vehicle. Stephanie, as it turns out, did not talk to me, taking her mom's warnings literally.

Phase 2 happens in a couple weeks, when the kids will be tested again in different circumstances, and approached by a woman.

From my standpoint, it was an eye-opening, disturbing experience. It was too easy to engage the girls and get them to go along with what I was suggesting. I felt creepy but didn't realize how much the first case (Chelsea) rattled me until I tried to start the car. My hand was shaking so badly, I had to steady it with the other hand to put the key in the car's ignition.

I sincerely hope that when the series airs, it prompts families right across our viewing area to discuss stranger danger with their kids, in enough detail.

DUBAI, HERE I COME!

I am so jazzed. I just booked my flights to and from Dubai. I leave Nov. 22 and return Dec. 2. Und I land in Churmany on ze vay zere und ze vay beck -- Munich und Frankfurt, respectively.
Not bad for a guy who never left the continent until less than two years ago, huh? In fact, except for a couple quick trips to Michigan (as in a couple hours) and a hockey tournament or two in New Yawk State, I had never left Canada. And by "leaving the continent", I mean once to Cuba and once to the Dominican Republic.
Have I mentioned that I am so jazzed?
Work is being very co-operative, too. Of course, I can't go until after fall ratings, the final day of which is the day before I leave, but Boss Peter said book the trip, and we'll make it work.
Have I mentioned that I am so jazzed?
I intend to fill my one-gigabyte memory stick on my new camera. If you think Kitty posted a lot of his vacation pictures, all I can say is "Hah!"
Have I mentioned that I am so jazzed?
Okay, bloglodytes, start envying in three... two... one... NOW!

Household Hints from Bob

Today's episode: Cleaning those nasty Crocs -- the fun rubber shoes that anyone who is anyone is wearing. After all, they come in a veritable kaleidoscope of bright, fun colours.

Glad you could join us on this sunny September day. We hope you had a great weekend.

Y'know, it doesn't take much for a really excellent idea to cross over to the fourth dimension known as [fast, dramatic violin riff in reverb] The Urrrrrbbbbbaaaaannnnn Mythhhhhhhhh.

Today's tip comes from that dimension... and is pulled back to Reality. I know you've heard that Ethel's mother's best friend's niece's twins' kindergarten teacher sent a note home, demanding that the twins' dirty Crocs be cleaned, before she would allow them back into the story circle. Teacher's suggestion: Put the dirty little buggers in the dishwasher -- oh my goodness, I mean the Crocs, not the twins! Heavens to Mercy!

"Pishtosh!" you exclaim. "The dishwasher??? Tsk, tsk. The dishwasher is meant exclusively for dishes, and seeing as you wouldn't eat out of the Crocs, they don't qualify. How trailer park!"

Well, someone has their nose much too high in the air, now, don't they, hmmmm?

That's where the crack research staff at Household Hints from Bob comes in, as usual, to put the theory-slash-myth to the test and -- pardon the vulgar sound of this -- de-bunk it.

So we put our favourite pair of red and black Ottawa Senators Crocs in the dishwasher with the usual stuff that goes in there, and set the dishwasher to run in the wee small hours. After all, we must all do our part to conserve energy and protect this great planet of ours, so that we can continue offering Household Hints from Bob for generations to come.

Drum roll, please, as morning arrives and we open the dishwasher... [brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr (drum roll effect -- you can come up with better?), [BING!(cymbal crash)] ...and my stars, it worked! They're so brand-new shiny clean, we would eat out of them before the twins put them on their grubby little feet and smear toe jam in them again.

There you have it, another urban myth dragged back into the third dimension, joining the Household Hints from Bob Household Hints Hall of Fame!

Join us next time, for the episode we like to call "Get rid of that deep-seated belly button lint, without going to the garage to get the extra heavy duty shopvac".

Thanks for joining us. Have a great day, and may you get your next goose long before Christmas Day! Buh-byeeeeeee.

Clean out your lint traps!

There's no joke here. It's a word of caution that I hope you'll help spread around.
My second cousin and his wife, who live in a house across the road from our cottage, have lost their beautiful home to a fire, caused by a blocked lint trap on their clothes dryer. Luckily, they woke up at 1:00 a.m. (I'm not sure, but probably from a smoke detector) and got out of the burning house with the proverbial clothes on their backs.
At first, it was thought that the house was just gutted, and could be restored. But on the phone tonight, my Dad told me that once they could inspect it, they learned that it has to be torn down and totally replaced.
I've heard of this before, and hope you keep your lint trap cleaned out. It doesn't stop at the screen that traps most of the lint from each load, either. Get in behind it with your vacuum cleaner on a regular basis. It's surprising how much lint gets past the screen. It builds up and eventually catches fire.
One time that I heard of such a thing was at a fire that I covered in Timmins as a videographer. Damage was very minor that time, because it was one o'clock in the afternoon in an urban residential area -- not one o'clock in the morning, in a rural area some ten kilometres from the nearest fire hall. Anyway, the lady in that house neglected her lint trap, and it caught fire, killing her cat. The fire chief told me that when cats sense fire, they hide -- under a bed, in this instance. And because a cat's lungs are so small, it takes very little smoke inhalation to kill it.

So please, check that lint trap regularly, and go deeper than getting the lint out between loads.

My weekend at Lac du Cerf

The weather was beautiful, and the company was great -- even if some of the young people were drinking beer and smoking dope before breakfast. Oh well, they are family, and not my responsibility. Every family has a little bit of white trash, doesn't it?

Here's a pic of Zoey, my dogniece who I sometimes babysit, and who ate the poopy diaper and licked the peepot. Hey, maybe the white trash got her stoned, and she had the munchies! Isn't she pretty?

Speaking of pretty, check out these two beauties. Claire and Caitlin are five months old, the daughters of my second cousin Charlie, and his wife, Trish. They also have an almost-three-year-old son, Carter, who's quite the little cutie, too.
I learned from Claire Bear and Caity Cait that I'm too old to be a Daddy, but I'm going to be an awesome surrogate Grandpa to Little Bro Dan's eventual kids. Yep, old Uncle Bob has the touch. I rocked Claire to sleep twice, and Caitlin once. Of course, I do have that effect on women of all ages.
We had a lot of laughs and ate a lot of great food this past weekend. I only wish this stupid sinus infection for which I'm now on antibiotics hadn't made me feel like crap. I had three beers all weekend -- between Friday night and Monday afternoon!

Has anyone seen my damned camera cable?

I'm jonesin' here to start posting pics from my weekend, but I can't find the stupid cable. It can't have gone too far -- this is only a two-bedroom apartment, and I usually keep all that junk on or in my desk.

ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!

Catholics, please pray to St. Anthony for me. It used to work for my best buddy's Mom, when she had misplaced something.

Any other suggestions for finding it?

Happy Labour Day

Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, have a great, safe time.
I'll be at my cousin's little piece of Heaven in the North Laurentians, and will report in with photos next week.

Let's be juvenile

I left a comment on Kitty's blog (misster-kitty.blogspot.com) that anyone who lurks there and here probably hasn't seen yet, because it's part of his last post about being away for a while.

I know what let's do: Let's scare the shite out of him the first time he checks his blog, by running up the number of comments to that most recent post. I've started, it's your turn. You know: while the Kitty's away, the blogmice will play...

I am SO 12 years old!

Woo-hoo! My 189th post!

Being the iconoclast that I am, I am not waiting until #200 -- I'm celebrating post #189 in all its glory (or lack thereof, if that's how you glass-half-empty types want to look at it).

Besides, fellow Bloglodytes, to quote that wise philosopher, N@, "I gots nothin'."

HEY, MONTREAL: What's goin' on?

We're hearing here in the A-Channel Ottawa Newscentre that part of the Métro has been shut down/evacuated.

What's up with that?

I'm peeved. I must vent

There are some issues that just should not be used to play politics. With about six weeks to go until a provincial election in Ontario, Liberal Premier Dalton McGuinty is considering a petition to rename part of Highway 401 in honour of Canadian soldiers who die in Afghanistan. That's a very noble gesture that I support wholeheartedly, regardless of my own political beliefs and support, and regardless of the timing. Then this afternoon, we got this news release in our newsroom:

FACT CHECK: MCGUINTY AND THE ARMED FORCES

The facts get in the way of Dalton’s story

(Toronto, ON) – A story in today’s Globe and Mail says that Dalton McGuinty is considering renaming a stretch of the 401 the “Highway of Heroes” in honour of Canada’s war dead.

It’s a worthy initiative, to be sure. But it also begs the question of Dalton McGuinty’s sincerity when he says, as is reported in the Globe, that Ontario needs to look for opportunities to lend support to Canada's soldiers and thank them for their sacrifices.

Over the last two years, Dalton McGuinty has had no fewer than two occasions to help out those Ontarians serving in Canada’s Armed Forces in real and meaningful ways, and he rejected both of those options right out of hand.

Opportunity 1: When Dalton McGuinty broke his promise to the people of Ontario and brought in the single largest tax hike in the history of the province he called it a “health premium” and made it so that Ontario’s men and women in the Armed Forces had to pay it.
But they don’t use Ontario’s health care system.

During the spring of 2006, John Tory and PC MPP John Yakabuski led the call in the Ontario Legislature to have the McGuinty government, at the very least, repeal the health tax for our men and women in the Armed Forces. Dalton McGuinty and his ministers were given nine separate opportunities to say that they were going to repeal the tax. Instead of doing so, Dalton refused to answer the questions put to him and his Minister of Finance defended the practice – saying that the families of Armed Forces members used Ontario’s health care system.

So what happened when those families tried to access those health care services?



Opportunity 2: The Phoenix Centre for Children and Families near CFB Petawawa provides mental health services for the children of soldiers who are serving in Afghanistan.
In September 2006, Greg Lubmiv, the executive director of the Phoenix Centre, and Lieutenant Colonel Dave Rundle, the base commander at CFB Petawawa addressed a letter to Dalton McGuinty’s Minister of Children and Youth Services asking for special funding to deal with a huge increase in the need for mental health services for the children in and around CFB Petawawa.

The Minister refused the request and told Mr. Lubmiv and Lt.-Col. Rundle to ask the federal government.

When asked about it , Dalton McGuinty’s minister gave this appalling answer:

“It’s [the increase in the need for children’s mental health services] a direct consequence of federal government initiatives.”

It wasn’t until the Ombudsman stepped in that the Phoenix Centre got the money Dalton McGuinty’s government previously said didn’t exist.

John Tory and the PC Party of Ontario also believe that support for our men and women in uniform must happen 365 days a year – not just at election time.




It is disgusting that the Conservative Party would use the issue to try to score political points. I hope it comes back to bite them in the collective arse.

Tasteless joke time

Q: What do Rosie O'Donnell and Michael Vick have in common?
A: Their careers were both ruined by a dogfight.

I can't take credit/blame for this -- I heard it on Letterman last night.

My Pride and Joy is 25 today

It is hard to believe that the big-eyed little guy I met 14 years ago last month is 25 years old today.
As anyone who's ever lurked here knows, Little Bro Dan is my pride and joy.
While I wouldn't change a single thing or take back a single second of being Big Brother to my Dano, I would be lying if I said I don't miss the little guy who moondanced around the Mini-Putt doing his Robin Leach imitation ("Champagne wishes and caviar dreams...") that Wednesday night in July, 1993; the same little guy who would snuggle up next to me on the couch at the cottage while I was doing a crossword and try to help, or commandeer the puzzle ("What's a domestic feline pet, three letters, first two are C and A?"); or, while driving in the car one day, asked what would happen when he turned 16 and the Big Brother match officially ended ("It's just a number. You're not getting rid of me that easily," I replied. "Good," he said with obvious relief, "I was hoping you'd say something goofy like that.").
I could go on and on, and often do without much prompting.
The bottom line is that being a Big Brother is the most rewarding thing I've ever done. I am so proud of the young man Dano has become. To say I'm thankful that he is an integral part of my life would be a total understatement.
Happy Birthday, Buddy. Your Big Brother loves and cherishes you.

Where were you?

Thirty years ago tomorrow: August 16, 1977. The death of Elvis Presley (if you truly believe that he's dead). He would be 72 if he was still alive.
It was my Dad's 46th birthday, and I was just a couple weeks from leaving home to start university, at what was then Ryerson Polytechnical Institute. After birthday cake for dessert, I borrowed my Dad's car to get together with my buddies for one of the last times before we dispersed to various colleges and universities. I had just pulled out of the driveway when I heard on the radio that the King had died. A couple of weeks later, on Labour Day weekend, the radio waves were full of Elvis tributes and music.

Your turn. Where were you when you heard?

This is for you, Ma:

Just 'cuz.
I took this photo beside my Dad's driveway, right next to the neighbour's house. Do I like my new camera? Well, yeah!

It's been kind of quiet in our little Blog family lately, hasn't it? What with vacations, etc., I guess people other than me are spending less time online. But I kinda miss 'em. Come back: all is forgiven.

Have a great day.

The McIntyre Kids

Left to right are me, my sister Dale and brother Danny. He's a year and a half older than I am, she's three and a half younger.

Danny and his wife, Candy, spent the weekend in Ottawa, staying at my new deluxe pad. They left early this morning, and informed me last night that next time they come to town, they will also stay at my deluxe new pad.

We are close, but not in-your-face close. We do spend time together whenever possible, but living eight hours apart doesn't make it possible too often. Regardless, if we ever need each other, we know we're no farther than a phone call or MSN message away. And of course, although I usually have supper at Dale's house every Sunday, it's rare that the three of us are in the same place at the same time. So we had a nice weekend: pizza at my place Saturday night, supper at Dale's last night. While I was at work during both those days, Danny and Candy did stuff with their son, Scott -- who also lives in Ottawa and joined us for pizza and Sunday supper -- and with Dale and her husband, Den.

I love this picture of us, taken last night at Dale's. We took a similar one two years ago at Danny's house. I showed it to people at work, and said it was me with my parents. One co-worker commented on how young my mom looked! Dale got even: she showed it to people where she works, and told them it was her two dads! Yes, we are a bunch of jokers, and have a lot of laughs when we are together.

So here's to siblings, and the connections unique to them. To people who don't communicate with their sibs (such as most of my stepmother's five kids), I say that life is too short for that crap. Swallow your pride, and pick up the phone, before it's too late.

Merv Griffin goes to the big bonus round in the sky

From the news wire, just minutes ago:

A spokesman for Merv Griffin says the entertainer turned businessman has died.
Griffin created the game shows "Jeopardy" and "Wheel of Fortune" and parlayed them into a multi-million-dollar entertainment empire.
A statement from Griffin's family says he died of prostate cancer.
He was 82.

Put the clicker down and follow the light, Merv. Final Jeopardy is over.

I just met Maria, Hubby and Soccer Player Son

...and damn! I don't have my camera with me.

They just stopped in, en route to son's soccer game in Hull. Nice people. I enjoyed our all too brief visit. I hope you do drop in again when you come back for more soccer in a couple weeks, folks.

Small world, eh?

How I'm feeling today:

...and how are you?

Actually, this was a lame attempt to show off the loon photo I shot at the cottage with my new camera.

But seriously, how are you?

Dogs is GROSS!

Zoey just PUKED -- and she and Jack ATE IT before I could clean it up! I think it's because she just polished off a full bowl of dog food, and then tried to chase it with a kleenex or teddy bear stuffing (although I can't find a mortally wounded toutou anywhere) or maybe, um, a feminine hygiene napkin. After all, there are normally three female humans living in this house, aged 17-45.

Don't get me wrong, I love these pooches, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to being happy that Sister and Bro-in-law are coming home today. There have been a few other "accidents" during my ten-hour absences for work purposes: a few little turds and a puddle, all of which have to be products of Jack. They were too little to be Zoey's and Jack IS only a pup, not quite six months old. Plus, I look forward to sleeping past 7am tomorrow by two or three hours.

I would still like a dog of my own, and will have one someday. I met a co-worker's three-year-old cocker spaniel yesterday. He's pretty affectionate and laidback, and I offered to dogsit him at my place, if his human ever goes away for a weekend or whatever. Annette and Oliver (human and canine, respectively) live alone in an apartment, so he has pretty good bladder and colon control, and is accustomed to spending stretches of time alone in said apartment, so shouldn't be any problem chez moi. The thing with Zoey and Jack is that with four humans on different schedules, they're rarely alone for any more than a few hours at a time.

Well, seeing as I've been up for two hours already, I might as well get on with my day.

Hello, fellow holiday suckers -- I mean, WORKERS

Grrrrrrrrrrr.... who else is working today? Is it a holiday in Quebec?

Bad enough I have to work, but the mutts I'm babysitting had me up before seven o'clock. Their only saving grace is that they're damned cute. I've tried to keep them awake in the evening, hoping they sleep later in the morning, but then I start to fall asleep, and pack it in at around 10:00.

Well, off to shower, etc., then to work.

My Maggie Muffin

This is my youngest dogniece, Maggie. Her humans are Little Bro Dan and Christine The Pretty One.
Maggie now loves her Uncle Bob. When she visited my place in May, she was only interested in me if I was feeding her pieces of cookie or pretzel, but now that she knows me, she loves me. She's a riot to play with, and always has an ample supply of big kisses for Uncle Bob.
Maggie is mostly Yorkie, with a dash of one or two other small breeds. She's trained to do her bidnid on a pee pad, and is "transitioning" (Dan's word) to using the great outdoors as her bathroom.
I also visited a couple other very affectionate pooches while I was on vacation. Kia is a two-year-old black Lab who is very affectionate, but doesn't realize that her claws and her strong legs can hurt humans. Chelsea is a cocker spaniel who thinks she's a Princess, and is happiest when someone (i.e. Me) is scratching her belly.
Then there are my brother and sister-in-law's retards -- er, shih tzus. Shiloh is a crabby, arthritic, epilpetic 13-year-old with a funny eye and six toes on one foot. Then there's his 11-year-old daughter/sister Emily (yeah, they're canine trailer trash) and the latest addition, Gucci, who joined the family via the fosterdog route last fall. His name comes from the fact that he loves to drape himself over someone's arm like an expensive Italian purse. His favourite activity is having a stare-down with Fetch the Chipmunk.
My favourite northern dog is, however, Maggie Muffin. Tomorrow, I move in with my favourite Ottawa pooches, Zoey and Jack, to doggysit for five days.
Now I know why they're called the dog days of summer!

Back from The Land of Awesome Sunsets

Hello, Possums! Miss me?
That piece of beauty at the top of this post is a close-up of the honest-to-goodness sun, just as it was setting one night last week over a small lake we simply call Highway Beach, alongside Highway 11 (the Trans-Canada Highway), 40 km south of Cochrane, Ontario. I took the pic with -- get ready for it -- my brand new DIGITAL CAMERA! Yeah, Milky, I got the S3 as you recommended. More on that some other time.

Ma, t and others in Shaniaville: Sorry I didn't get to see you while I was up there. The time absolutely flew! I did spend a good amount of time with Dad and StepMama, and with Little Bro Dan. In fact, here's a pic that my dad took, with my old camera:

Doesn't my favourite Paramedic look great in uniform? Pardon my semi-gush, but I'm constantly amazed at what a great young man he is.

Awright, move along, nothing else to see here. I'll pollute the dubya-dubya-dubya in the days to come with more crapola and photos. In the meantime: DREW CAREY??? WTF? Are they gonna change the name of the show to "What Price Is It Anyway?"?

Where I'll be

For the next couple weeks, about you'll find on this blog is this:


I'm not really going fishing, it's just not something I do, but you get the picture.

I intend to spend most of my time at the cottage, regardless of the weather. My dad tells me, however, that the forecast is for hotter, dryer weather. I would never place a bet on a weather forecast, but that is a hopeful sign.

And on evenings when the sky is clear enough, I'll see something like this:


...or this:


Believe it or not, those are two different sunsets at the same place. I call the sunset the fingerprint on the end of the day, because as breathtakingly beautiful as it can be, no two are exactly the same. If luck is with me, I'll also get to see the Northern Lights. There's nothing like standing on the dock, watching the colourful whips dancing across the sky, crackling, to make you realize that in the whole scheme of things, you're extremely small and insignificant. It's such a relaxing, peaceful feeling.

So keep the place warm for me. I'll catch up with everyone next month. Once my shift at work is finished tomorrow at about 6:30pm, I'll be on vacation, heading north on Monday, back to Ottawa on the 31st, and back to work August 1st.

My latest project

I have a desk that my parents bought me when I lived in North Bay in 1986. They got it, unfinished, at Consumers Distributing (Remember that place? I wish it had worked without the constant "Sorry, it's out of stock. Can you pick another item?" and was still around).

Anyway, I finally got around to finishing it, 21 years after the fact. Here's what it looked like:


And here's what it looks like after four coats of all-in-one stain and varnish, followed by a final coat of clear varathane:


...and where I'll keep it in my apartment, until I think of somewhere else that it might work:


Not bad, eh? Is there any end to my talents? My Grade 9 woodworking teacher, Mr. Romaniuk, would probably give me a C for it, because there are a few spots where the stuff ran a bit. But we didn't get to finish our coffee tables or salad bowls, because he was also a phys. ed. teacher and was away so often, coaching this team or that team. We were his only woodworking class. But I digress.

My next project will be the annual interior cleaning of my car. Yeah, I know, it sounds gross, but I live in an apartment, and it ain't easy to clean it. So every summer, I put one afternoon at the cottage aside to scrub that baby clean. Other than dust and the occasional spill of coffee from the cupholder, it doesn't get that grossly dirty. For one thing, I don't smoke...

What're you reading?

Six more sleeps until this cat starts his summer vacation, and there's a spot waiting for me on the deck at the cottage, to catch up on some reading. Any suggestions? I generally like mysteries, Stephen King and some celebrity biographies.

Right now, I'm reading The Black Ice, a cop novel by Michael Connelly, who was recommended to me by a co-worker last year. His stuff is reminiscent of John Grisham's. I think I've read everything Grisham has written.

I already have two books lined up: Stephen King's latest, called Lisey's Story; and the Hemingway classic, The Sun Also Rises. If I don't finish whatever reading material I bring with me, that's okay. I do most of my non-vacation reading on the bus back and forth to work.

So fire away with any suggestions.

My James Taylor concert story

On Ma Horton's blog today (macoffeeshoppe.blogspot.com), I mentioned how I wish I could sing just well enough to be a back-up singer for someone like Garth and Tricia or James Taylor.

That reminded me of the James Taylor concert I went to.

The year: 1996. The place: the Ottawa Civic Centre. I was still living in Timmins, and Little Bro Dan and I had come to Ottawa for our annual visit with my sister, brother-in-law and their kids. Dano was 13 and had never been to a concert (Hey! He grew up in Timmins, okay?), so we got tickets to James Taylor for him, my sister and me.

We were just nicely in our seats. The concert hadn't started yet. Three hefty women came along, looking for their seats in the row in front of us. When they realized they should be in our row, one stepped over the back of the seats, but the other two were wearing tight denim skirts, so they walked around. Dan was sitting next to the aisle, so we stood up to let the women in. One of them stopped in front of Dano, just long enough to shake her boobs in his face. Dano turns to me with eyes as big as frisbees, and exclaims "I LIKE concerts!"

Help! I need my support group... and a kick in the ass

I was doing so well on the diet and exercise regimen, but have fallen out of it the past couple months. My diabetes is under control, but I think I've probably put back on most of the weight I lost. I've only been to the gym a couple times since I moved to the new place, and find it so easy to decide not to go.

I know that if I get back into the routine of at least two or three times a week, I'll get back on track. I want to do that between now and when my holidays start on the 16th, so that I'll miss it while I'm lazing around the cottage, etc.

So please, kick away.

"Money makes the world go 'round..."

Crap! Now that stupid song from "Cabaret" is going through my hollow head. Up near my list of the crappiest movies of all time. Don't get me started.

Anyhoo, today I was out shopping and stopped at Canadian Tire to get a new electric kettle. I boiled the old one dry last night. I've done that before. I've also turned a stove element on under a couple of them. My aunt, who lives in Florida, says you can't buy electric kettles in the States. So when she needs a new one, someone in Canada has to send one to her.

Anyway, I had $4.35 of Canadian Tire money in my glove compartment, which covered the tax and then some. And this is what I really like about Canadian Tire money: even when you use it to help pay for whatever you're buying, you get some back! Today, it was 20 cents.

Canadian Tire money is another advantage to living in Canada, and not the Excited States. Also ketchup chips and dill pickle chips. My niece is working as a camp nurse at a camp in Michigan for the summer, and her supervising nurse, who is American, loves ketchup chips, so my sister's sending her some.

I know that Shania Twain says ketchup chips are a treat she enjoys when she's in Canada. There's also a chocolate bar that she can't get anywhere else. Crunchie, maybe? Whoever's better at Shania trivia than I am can confirm that.

One more money thing: Also while I was out, I brought all my accumlated change (pennies, mostly, but dimes and nickels, too) to the Coinstar machine at Loblaws. I got $13.63 back, even after the service charge of 9.8 cents per dollar. The machine spits out anything that's not American, Canadian or a real coin. I had a parking token mixed in with the chicken feed, not sure where I got it. Maybe it was in some change sometime and a cashier mistook it for a penny or dime. The machine also wouldn't accept one lonely 2004 Canadian penny. I put it through four or five times, and it kept getting spit out. WTF?

Coinstar sures beat the crap out of counting and rolling.

Doh! I mean Doe... a Deer... a female Deer!

I knew that my new place, situated where it is, would give me an opportunity to spot some wildlife. I've already seen a lot of birds, most notably a red-winged blackbird. Even if I didn't see the birds, they leave proof of their presence all over my car.
I just happened to look out the window at about four o'clock this afternoon, and there was this beauty:

My neighbour had told me about spotting her in the early morning, but at 4pm? When I went out onto the balcony to take a few photos, he was also on his balcony watching her. He figures she probably came across the highway (actually, the Blackburn Bypass) at night some time, and is now spooked by it during the day. Of course, we joked about putting her on the barbecue. I have eaten barbecued venison. It's delicious.
Anyway, it's times like these that I wish I had a better camera, with a longer lens. I'll have to invest in one before my trip to Dubai in December.

Happy Canada Day/Bonne Fête du Canada

I took this photo about three years ago at the family cottage. We proudly fly the flag all summer. This year for Canada Day, I'm even flying a flag from the back window of my car. I bought it yesterday at WalMart, which, of course, is an American company. The flag was made in Taiwan, but it's still MY flag, and I am proud to be a native citizen of the best country in the entire world.

Have a good, safe Canada Day weekend.

Reconnections

In the spirit of what's developed in our little blog group into recounting chance meetings and reconnecting with friends, let's relate more of those stories. Me first.
Rick and I were roommates in our first year at college: me in radio broadcasting, him in aircraft maintenance. We initially lived in different apartments in the same building. He wasn't getting along with his only roommate, and one of my two roommates -- an immature, dope-smoking idiot -- got along better with Rick's roommate, so they traded places.
Rick was a great roommate. He got along famously with Kevin, my other roommate and me. Shortly after Christmas, we moved a classmate of mine in with us. Rob had been rooming at a guy's house, but was getting worried for his own safety. His landlord had a stormy relationship with his girlfriend, and one night, it degenerated into knife-throwing. Rob moved in with us the next night.
At the end of the school year, Kevin was finished his course and left, so another classmate of mine, Glen, moved in with us. Rick brought his pal Jeff into our little group. Jeff was a year behind us in college, and needed a place to live. So there we were, five guys in a two-bedroom apartment. It didn't leave a lot of room for modesty, when all five of us had 8:30 a.m. classes. The shower went on at about 7:00 and ran for the next half hour or so. As one guy finished, another would step in.
One of Rick's classmates needed a roommate, and although our arrangement was going well, Rick knew that him leaving wouldn't be too much of a financial burden on the rest of us, so in October, he left, but we remained close friends.
I was 25 when I started college, so I was six or seven years older than my classmates and roommates. I did most of the cooking. On Mother's Day of first year, after we had all gone home for the summer, Rick called from Ottawa to wish me a happy Mother's Day. "Thanks, I think," I replied. "No, no, Bob," he quickly interjected, "I mean it. You take such good care of me and make such good meals, it was like having a second Mom."
Anyway, after college, we went our separate ways, and lost touch. About 18 years later when I was living in Ajax, I was idly Googling random words one day, just to see where the Internet would take me.
Somehow, I ended up on the website of a men's recreational hockey team in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, of all places. I noticed Rick's name on the roster. It also listed his age, which I figured was accurate. So I emailed the webmaster and said someone by that same name was a college roommate, I'd love to reconnect with him, and would he please pass along my email address, in case it was the same Rick. Sure enough, the next day, I got an email from Rick.
We have stayed in touch via email since then. Two summers ago, Rick introduced me to his wife and their young son here in Ottawa, and I hope to see them again this summer. Rick is an airline pilot in Dubai, and he and Heather want me to visit them there for a week or so. We are planning for that to happen this coming December.
When I met Heather, she said that Rick often talks about what a good cook I am, and that he has been trying to duplicate my spaghetti sauce, which is just ground beef, onions, green peppers, mushrooms, a can of Bravo sauce, and a can of tomato soup.
Anyway, the Internet has made this world even smaller. Because of that, I have reconnected with a good friend who lives half a world away.

Okay. That's my reconnection story. Who's next?

Soul2Soul Concert Review

Okay, my cyberpeeps. I'm just back from Scotiabank Place, and the Tim McGraw and Faith Hill Soul2Soul Tour concert.

I'm not much of a reviewer, but I can tell you that it was a fantastic show. Including opening act Lori McKenna, it was more than three hours of wall-to-wall music.

I actually went mostly to see Faith Hill, and while she did a great job in her solo set, I must admit to liking Tim McGraw's solo set better. And when they sing together, pow-er-full, babies.

One disappointment: Tim didn't sing the two sings I was really hoping for: "Red Ragtop" and "Tiny Dancer".

Catty comments: Faith was having a bad hair night. Static electricity gave her the frizzies, and when the big screens showed an overhead shot, it was evident that she needs her roots touched up. Plus, when she came back onstage to do an encore with Tim, her hair had a big couette on the left side. Sorry, I don't know the English term for it. I've always only known a stray chunk of hair that sticks out by the French term, and think it's spelled couette (pronounced kwett).

Cutest moment of the night: When one of their daughters (I'm thinking the oldest of the three, Gracie) came on stage to help her daddy finish the song that I think is called Angel's Wings.

I give it four Barbecue Stained T-Shirts out of a possible five.

Bob's Fantasies #1: Faith is staying with me at my place tonight.
Bob's Fantasies #2: I am so glad they didn't call me out of the crowd to sing with them. I just haven't practiced enough lately, so my performance would have been adequate at best.

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.