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.