Porch

I put my favourite chair on the top of the blog. Anyone notice? With spring coming I want to be there soon, having 'porch' with neighbours and family. When we bought this place, my father immediately nicknamed the porch a hockey rink, considering it's size, that's not too far from the mark. We actually have played hockey on the porch.

Porch is a tradition around here. It involves people randomly showing up and the chairs multiplying on the porch, all of which hold a friend or relative, all of them holding some sort of beverage. This started with storms. We have a bunch of freaky neighbours who love to watch storms, and with a porch this size, you never get wet. We've sat out there through the worst spring storms, while other people are battening down their hatches. We leisurely sit there watching the lightning. It's getting to the point now that if the sky turns dark, someone will show up with a case of something. I like it.

That evolved into the spring and summer social event. We gather as the tribes did around their fires, to tell stories and laugh the night away. Yup, once again, we're responsible for changing the entire meaning of a word. Porch will never be the same.

So in keeping with the spring tradition, and while we await our inaugural 2010 porch, I have changed my header to reflect it. A warm spring day, with my chair waiting.

The pic is a portion of a panoramic pic I took when I was playing with the camera one day. Here's the entire pic...

Have a great spring, and don't forget the munchies!

Airheads

On my way out into the county yesterday I realized that I had a low tire, so I stopped to get some air. To my surprise, it now costs $1.

$1 for air.

Let that sink in for a minute.

One fucking dollar for AIR!

I moved on thinking that I had arrived at one of those stations that feels that customers should be jacked at any opportunity. To my amazement, every station I stopped at from Windsor to Kingsville has had the same air machine installed. All of them cost $1. I probably wasted a lot of fuel in my search for cheap air, but there's a point to to made here. Why should we be screwed for something as accessible and cheap as air? Why do corporations take advantage of consumers like this? It goes way beyond penny candy now costing a dime. It goes way beyond banks charging service fees to access your own money. It goes way beyond high taxes and high food costs. Now Air is a pricey commodity.

This is just one more reason I want to become a hermit in a log cabin in the woods. Somewhere where I never need air except to breathe it. Is that next? Are we going to get charged a tax on exhaling?

Fucking stupid.

I still haven't topped up that tire.

Have a nice *&#!@?*%$ day.

Things of days gone by

I find myself sitting here tonight in a quiet house, surrounded by things I grew up with. My parent's antiques are everywhere, including the couch which was such a news breaker just a few weeks ago. I see these things and memories flow. Days of carefree living in a house of love, with family that for better or worse, was always there for me. I find myself seeing small imperfections in the table or a scratch on the desk, and I know exactly how it got there, and how old I was when I caused it (yeah, most of the time it was me).

I see things that Kim and I brought into this house together, yet somehow these things have much less meaning. I see the barrister bookcases behind me full of books we bought together - it was always our goal to have a library instead of a dining room. Right next to those, stands my father's large bookcase - one of three - the other two went to my brother and sister. Somehow, it means more. It's out of place, it has no match. It's an oddball. But somehow, it means more.

I see my father's red easy chair, sitting in the library, eagerly waiting someone to curl into it and read, or my mother's marble top cabinet taking a place of prominence in the living room. The door has been held closed with a wad of newspaper for years, but that doesn't matter, somehow the broken latch adds character.

I see Kim's heirlooms - the china cabinet, not very old but full of meaning. It holds our wedding crystal, patiently waiting guests. Or the old wash stand that we've been using for hats and gloves for years. The drawer doesn't work well anymore, and it so full of scratches that most people wouldn't think twice about throwing it out.

The list goes on. Kim's grandmother's mixer - still working great after 40 years. My dad's knives, various glassware, pictures on the walls, the ugly little stuffed thing my grandmother made me one year, and sits on a window sill, and most of all, books. Tons of them.

All these things we've inherited. All these things of value that we've been entrusted with. All these precious memories that we endear ourselves with. They make me comfortable. They make me remember. They make me thankful.

Of all these things, why is it that an ugly plastic sugar container has affected me most of all?

I broke it tonight. It's 50 years old and has always been in my home. When I was a kid I used this to put sugar on my cereal. Tonight I lost my temper and tossed it. It broke open on the floor spilling sugar everywhere; the small clasps that held the cover on broke off, and the cover will no longer attach. The other end has a larger cover, meant for larger portions, that side just cracked. It can be salvaged. but that's not the point. Tonight I broke one of my memories.

I don't think crazy glue can fix it.

Changing

I've had some complaints that trying to read this blog is enough to make someone's retinas explode. How's this?

Spring is here, time for some upbeat visuals anyway. I'm looking for a new photo for the header block, check back soon!

Cheers