Hasn’t it been a marvelous summer so far for experiencing the great outdoors? Yeah, sure, if you happen to be a blood-lusting insect.
It was a good week. This week I got to cuddle to my hearts content with the likes of Maggie, Beatrice, Georgia and Vanna, and my Better Half didn’t even mind. Yep, it was all about a lot of snuffling, slobbering, and snorting — and in addition to my bad habits, the girls were pretty noisy too. Did I mention that Maggie, Beatrice, Georgia and Vanna are dogs? I’m not being impolite, they really are dogs.
I don’t think anybody needs a real good reason to go to the Fair. What I mean is, the real good reasons come already built in when the Fair arrives. All you have to do is go, and the real good reasons for being there will already be there waiting for you.
They call it “biometeorology” and a couple of guys from Ontario are worldwide biometeorological leaders. But you may well ask: “Just what is biometeorology?”
If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. If it isn’t midnight partiers from the house down the alley, it’s the guy with the stereo in his car identical to the P.A. system at a Rolling Stones concert, with the bass turned up so loud it actually crumbles the asphalt underneath the car as he drives by.
I know many of you under the age of 30 won’t believe me, but a cup of coffee used to cost less than 25 cents in the nicest restaurant in town.
Albert Einstein had it tough. I mean, whenever he came up with genius theories and unfathomable equations and other esoteric stuff nobody else could understand, he would never hear: “Wow, this guy’s a real Einstein!”
Last week was a pretty significant time for me. It marked the first time I walked more than 20 laps in a row at one time over at the running track at the Collicutt Centre.
Sometimes a person just says stuff without thinking. It comes unexpectedly blurting out of your mouth before you can stop it – bursting out like a nervous budgie when you open the door of the birdcage.
Extra terrestrial beings have been all over the news lately.
Not because they actually stepped out of a spaceship and immediately wanted to phone home.
Lately I’ve been watching what I eat. I watch every single mouthful as I shovel it from the plate to pie hole. Old joke, but true.
I barely know the difference between a magpie and a mallard, but I know one thing — I like birds. And spring is a good time of year if you happen to like birds.
We used to call it “alley hockey” instead of “road hockey,” but it was truly our very own version of Hockey Night in Canada to me and my friends.
It’s a meaningful time of year. A time of Easter, a time of the spring equinox and the spring solstice. A time for thoughtful reflection and refreshing renewal. And, of course, a time for a deeply secular commitment to the love of chocolate.
My friend calls it “Crackbook” on account of it’s so addictive. And she’s right. Facebook is seriously habit-forming.
I remember, way back in high school, before the invention of cellphones, iPods and human rights, there were guys who grew their hair over their ears and combed it down over their foreheads instead of up in a solid wave of hair and goop that wouldn’t budge in the middle of Hurricane Seymore.
Two weeks already? I can’t believe the Vancouver 2010 Olympic Games — the “thrill of victory and the agony of defeat and the human drama of athletic competition” — are almost over.
I’m usually pretty good at keeping secrets. I didn’t even tell my first girlfriend, Linda, that she was in fact my girlfriend. I kept that secret all the way through Grade 3. I kept it so well that I don’t think she even knew who I was.
Do you get the February Blahs? I know I do.
They say time heals all wounds. They, whoever “they” are, also say time is the enemy. Time is on your side. There’s no time like the present. Time will tell.
