Friday, November 15, 2019

ROBBLOG #808- Four letter words: Snow. Cold.


I received photos, emails and texts from friends and family back in Ontario this past week.

It seems something strange happened.
Well, two things actually.
It was even reported in the news.

It snowed.
It got cold.

Strange?
I'd say the usual.
It's November and it snowed and got cold in Ontario.
People forgot what -15 Celsius felt like.
They do every year.
I used to do that too. I would conveniently forget-
That water freezes.
That driving is awful.
That a shovel is required to clear sidewalks and driveways.

Do I miss Ontario living here on Vancouver Island with the green grass, mild sunshine, occasional showers and no -15 Celsius temps?
I must admit, I miss the "idea" of snow.
You know, that first snowfall when everything is clean and white and the dead leaves, brown grass and twiggy bushes are dusted with the white stuff.
The picture postcard views.
I miss the clear, crisp smell of snow when it covers lawns and hedges but not on the roads and sidewalks.

Our yellow lab Kiki and our mini-schnauzer-Missy, loved the snow when we were in Ontario. Both these girls have passed over the Rainbow Bridge now but we still have videos of each of them frolicking in the snow. It was fun to watch and a brisk walk in puppy coats for them and hats, scarves and gloves for the Mister and I will always be a part of my memories not only of Orillia but of Kiki and Missy.

Once the Christmas Holidays passed, the romantic idea of snow and cold would leave come January when every day was the same- more cold and more snow.
Snow then cold.
Winds, snowsquall advisories and of course cold.

Orillia Downtown in 1952. Snowbanks loom just as large in 2019
It was difficult to go to the grocery store for milk some days.
Driving on slippery roads was a magic trick of sorts. I must say I was pretty good at it but don't ask me to pull a rabbit from a black, felt top hat!
I can remember driving way west out of my normal routing on city streets just to avoid hills in our North Ward neighbourhood. On winter hills in Orillia, cars spun out and slipped and skidded at four way stops.
The city plied sand on top of snow-covered streets.
It never helped.
Never.
I know because I drove those streets for decades.
At least driving around and about and taking the less hilly route home, I was able to drive into a convenient Tim Horton's for a large coffee with milk.
My reward.
Then, leaving the Tim's lot I turned left and then right driving carefully down a snow covered hill and left along a one-way street eventually turning into our triple-wide driveway.

Orillia never seems to get the hang of winter and the fact when it snows usually the flakes cover the streets and sidewalks. Maybe Orillia should pick up and move the city west where umbrellas and mud and snow rated tires are all that's requited. That's the tires with the little triangle on the side and sometimes the letters "M&S" or a snowflake logo.
I mention this because these tires are required to be on vehicles October through April when crossing over the Malahat to Victoria. The Malahat might have snow at it's 1200 foot summit and it's good to have the required tires.
If you don't there's a large fine waiting for you.
Of course you can refrain from driving over the top until spring.

Back to Orillia.
My brother was complaining about snow-covered streets this past week even though I read in the hometown "online" newspaper that the city had bought two new plows and hired more snow removal people.

Maybe Ontarians get a little too anxious to have the snow scraped from streets immediately after it falls. It takes time and a lot of patience.
Listen to that...
Wise-winter words from a westerner who lives just about as far west as one can get in this country.

Oh, in case you were wondering.
I still have three pots of geraniums blooming at the front of the house and a huge fern enjoying mild, light-filled days on the Lanai.
The magnolias, laurels and palms are still green and the Oregon Grape, Camelias and Heather are all getting ready to bloom soon.

Tuesday, November 5, 2019

ROBBLOG #807- Hexit



Oh for Fuck Sakes!

Now, Alberta wants to leave Confederation!
Is there a #Hexit on our country?
First it's the French, now the cowboys and rednecks- acknowledging that not all Albertans are Rednecks and Cowboys. Not that there's anything wrong with a cowboy in a nice pair of jeans.
It's just that...really.
I mean really- Wexit?

You folks can't even come up with an independent sounding name.
You have to steal from the Brits!
I expected that Justin would have said something by now like-
"You folks realize you're using the Canadian Dollar and you have Canadian Passports and all the old folks get paid Old Age pension from Federal coffers?"
Nope.
Quiet on Parliament Hill but I expect Justin is going- "For cripes sakes- what now?"

Both Quebec and now Alberta have to realize this leaving nonsense doesn't help CANADA on the world stage.
It's bad.
As a matter of fact, here's a long email I received. Most of it is here verbatim from a fellow by the name of Jed Cockburn over in “Scheer Country”. It's more of a media release of sorts. Jed's from Ropeburn Alberta and he's sent me his words of wisdom before- back in the Harper Years.

So, Jed says- allegedly...

***
"Let me tell you Easterners and BC'ers about us God-Lovin’, golf-fearing folks who live in the wide open spaces the way nature intended."

Note: Some of this email sounds vaguely familiar and I have a feeling Jed didn't do much of a re-write from the pissed-off piece he sent back a decade ago when I had posted a Blog about good old Stephen.

He continues:

"I live here in Ropeburn. Ropeburn, Alberta. Population 1,002.  That's a tad down from 1,112. Some of them dang fools took off to Ontario and BC looking for a better life. Hoping the grass is greener. I can tell ya- it's not. Everyone knows that God Blesses Alberta- and that's a fact.
He said so straight from the pulpit last Sunday and he's no liar.
The Reverend Hodges I mean- not God.

Anyhow we still got a few of them “Mary Worshippers” living here and they have my blessing to leave this golden province whenever they want and they can take their beads with 'em!
Bunch of hippies!

Ropeburn’s located a yank of a cord and a hop, skip and step in a southerly direction from the big city and is known for it's fine “Western Hospitality”.
Y'all can probably feel that from these here words I am writing.

Now look.
This Wexit stuff.
It's fer real.
Here in Ropeburn we got a community centre, library, a nice downtown filled with shops, a dozen or so churches- albeit mostly Baptist ones.
What we don't got is Liberals.
I know Jesus says we gotta love everyone but for the love of Christ those folks that follow every word that that Trudeau fella preaches. Well, they oughta take a good look at themselves and see that it's just not right following one person like that believin' every damn word they say.
I mean what kinda people do that?
May Jesus forgive me for being so harsh.
I mean the Protestant Jesus not that Pope's Jesus.
Good Lord is it any wonder people pee on the Catholic shrubs at their temple doors or steal the Catholic Baby Jesus from the Catholic Nativity display every Catholic Christmas?
I think I heard it was them Presbyterian Pre-teen Bible Study kids. Doing the peeing I mean.

Now, the Indians across Bone Marrow Lake were here first or so we've been told and we don't wanna rock that totem pole anymore than we have already. Originally they inhabited the side of the lake that Ropeburn here is built on but years ago we very nicely asked them to move across to t'uther side of the lake.
Yes, it is a bit rockier than this side and the water's not as clean and the dump is within spittin' distance. Now don't judge us harshly. We let the Mexicans come north to pick our radishes and move the outhouses on the property encircling all that arable land they work.
That's gotta mean sumthin.
I mean we're not all like them Quebecers and their immigration stuff.

So we got all this goin' on and the rest of this country wanna know why we wanna set up our own parliament? Gives yer heads a shake- especially that Ontario.

Listen, we just wanna have control over our own destinies and by the cripes if we wanna vote Conservative for another hundred years we will- ya gotta know that!

Now as far as them folks who don’t know how to finish the Lord’s Prayer in the proper fashion or them Liberals or NDP folks- that are both one in the same in my mind at least, we say good riddance.
If you can’t stand the right stuff- get out of Ropeburn!

Anyhoo, we proud folks in Ropeburn want you to know that we think your lick-ass treatment of that Mr. Trudeau is wearing a bit thin- like cheap “rubber condums”, especially after this so-called Federal Election.
What a pussy of a vote that was.
Shit.


Here at our next our Town Council meeting, we're jumpin' on the separation band wagon. We've even named the town park Kenny Green and he isn't even that sure about his party leaving confederation.
Look Mister Kenny- shit or get off the Conservative pot!

Most of us Albertans couldn’t be happier than pigs covered in poo if we walk away from this country.
I can hardly wait to see that Liberal leader’s face when we do. We already got a big banner stretched across the town square saying "Gotta Go Go!". The banner was made by old Mrs. Cutone who went and dug it out of an old chest she keeps in the basement. It was used a few decades ago by the local hockey team- The Ropeburn Rabbits when they were in the hockey finals.

Anyway when- not if, when we leave, it'll be a party. The booze will be flowin' if Billy Parsons gets his contraption repaired in time- wherein he makes a very tasty “communion wine”. Sarah Kuntner will probably make a stack of her famous groundhog burgers too.
But I digress...

Now, Sam Two Rivers from the Chacahatcha Indian Reserve across the Lake isn't too happy about this Wexit. He says why should the tribe give up a good thing just as the money is flowing from the feds and the water is almost worth drinking.

You lefties out there better be prepared to show your Canadian passports at the BC or Saskatchewan border depending on which direction you're comin' from. In the meantime I want you to know we are all prayin' as hard as we can and we think that Jesus and Mr. Scheer are on our side.

Just keep your F’in eyes open and don't cry too much when we're going.
Yours in separation-
Jed Cockburn

***

There you have it Kids. A #Hexit is afoot with #Wexit.
I think Jed's email speaks for itself and even though I don't believe in her-
Gawd Help us!

Friday, October 25, 2019

ROBBLOG #806- Memories of Childhood


Have I written about my Gramma Reid before?

I am sure she has been mentioned, if not written about in detail. After all I can't remember all that I've
written in eight hundred blogs. In fact when I go way back and read what I posted years ago, it's like reading the writings of another person.

Anyhoo, my Gramma Reid.
My dad's Mum. Lillian.
She left this world on a cold January day in 1965. She actually froze to death because she fell from her back stoop while hanging out laundry.
My Grandmother hanging out laundry on a cold, clear end of January day.

The oil man topping up the tank found her in the snow and carried her inside. I was walking along the street from school minutes before intending to stop in and say hello but my Mum came rushing along just as I reached Gramma Reid's front sidewalk and urged me to go home.
Home was a block and a bit away.
As I walked along clutching my schoolbooks, my Dad came running up Poughkeepsie Street and barked further orders- "Go home and stay there, your sister and brother are there with Mrs. Dwinnell!"
She was a neighbour and lived next door.
I knew something was up.
I just didn't know what. I knew my Gramma had a ticky heart.
Maybe that was it.

Her husband my Dad's father and my Grandad- Norman, had died two days before Christmas in 1963.
That was tons of fun...
I remember that sad Christmas and the prevailing gloom.
My Gramma was so sad. My Dad was quiet and looked down at the floor a lot.
Fifty years Gramma and Grandad had been married now she'd be alone- without "Shorty" a nickname that was attached to him for most of his life.
Being alone happens to all of us- sooner or later.

My Gramma Reid taught me a lot.
Some things she taught me without saying a word.
I wish she were here this minute.
I have a couple of questions for her and I need her advice. I think she pokes me from the next plane of life from time to time. I hear her voice.
I am a lot like her.

Gramma Reid probably put the "Gay" in Gay for me- even before I knew it.
I wonder if she knew I was different?
I loved to go to her house on any holiday or special day.
Around Hallowe'en, I think of the times I'd walk into her dining room and she'd be there making up individual treat bags for all the kids. She'd have "special bags" set aside for "special" kids- like her grandchildren.
She'd have all these treats in bowls on the walnut dining room table and she'd carefully pick a treat from each bowl and tuck it in a little black and orange Hallowe'en bag with a witch or moon or ghost on the side.
All the time she'd spend doing that every year.
Beside her, on the big hutch with the mirror she'd have a Hallowe'en display. Pumpkins, a black cat or two and other spooky stuff. There was usually a centrepiece on the huge dining room table that sat a dozen or more of us at Thanksgiving or Christmas. I wonder where all those decorative items ended up? I didn't get any spooky figurine as a remembrance of her.

50th Wedding Anniversary. This is how I remember my Grandparents.
Christmas was the same.
I'd look in the dining room to see what special display she'd have on the hutch or on the table. It was Gramma Reid who started me collecting my first Nativity set. I still have several pieces that I remember buying at Woolworth's in downtown Orillia.
The price sticker is still on the bottom of the figurines.
It says:
"Woolworth. 29 cents. Hand-painted in Italy"
I chose one of the kings wearing a robin's egg blue robe and gold crown as well as a couple of shepherds. I don't remember what drew me to these specific figures.
Noticeably missing was the Holy Family but in the seventies I bought a stable and enough pieces to complete the entire set. I display it ever Christmas.
It reminds me of her.

She also bought me a Santa Claus figurine one Christmas.
It stands about 10 inches tall.
Santa has a fuzzy red coat, black plastic boots and belt and a fuzzy, white beard.
That was Christmas 1963 and I still have it in a display cabinet.
The one boot has part of a toe missing. Back in the 80's I sat it on the top of a metal fireplace for a minute while I decorated a tree nearby.
Duh.
The boot's toe melted quickly.
I love that Santa and it started me collecting Santa's.
I have many and I still add one each year.
Don't get me started on who I am leaving all these memories to once I shuffle away from this mortal coil. I have no idea and some nights it keeps me awake thinking about it.
Lillian and Norman.
Other Holidays were well represented on my Gramma's Table and Hutch including St. Patrick's Day, Valentine's Day, Easter and Thanksgiving.

I am sure that's the reason I do the same all year through. Our dining room hutch and table always reflect the season with bunnies, hearts, autumn leaves, pumpkins and more displayed.
In a way I am honouring my Gramma Reid's memory.
It keeps her close and I thank her for all she taught me whether she was aware of the lessons or not.

Even today a charcoal photograph of her- and her brother, looks down upon the dining room table from a ornate golden frame hung on the wall near our hutch.

It makes me feel warm and fuzzy...

Monday, October 21, 2019

ROBBLOG #805- Fah Lah?


Okay. Enough.

Labour Day, Thanksgiving, Fucked up Federal Election and
Hallowe'en (if you're reading this prior to October 31st).

I've had enough. Did you know I practically got thrown in jail while casting my vote on
Auchinachie Street.
Pronounced "Otch in notch ee" you say?
Nope.
Not on our Island.
It's Oh-hann-a key"!

Anyhoo- A privilege you say?
Only if you can get past the old poussy-faces at the polling station.
My Aunt Mable used to use that term.
Poussy. It fits.
Look, I can't go into detail since Elections Canada has a hot rod shoved up their ass about election protocol and I don't want to be thrown into a Cuban jail.
I think that's how it works.
Canadians who trifle with Elections Canada rules get sent to Cuban jails. I think the People's Party or was it the Communist Party who told me that?
Geeze...
There are double standards in this country and I got caught in the middle.
Ok.
Enuff.
Onto other happy thoughts- like Christmas.

Just a day or two ago- I thought I'd take a ride and soon Miss Fanny Bright was seated by my side. 
I digress.
That's a partial lyric from Jingle Bells.
Centre Rob.
Centre yourself.
That polling station lady can't hurt you anymore. You have the Liberals on your side. Maybe the NDP- if I had of voted for them.
A day or two ago I purchased my first two Christmas Magazines. Well, you have to buy in October or you miss the entire season. If you wait until December, you'll be buying the spring edition.
What the F**K is it with magazines and their printing dates anyway??


I love Christmas and I love browsing through Christmas Magazines.
I start early- in October.
I always have.
Who am I hurting?- which by the way I asked at that polling station earlier.
I think she thought I was Russian.

I get early ideas for the Holidays when I read my magazines.
I plan decor.
I look for items in stores that mimic what I see in the mags.
I bought Canadian House and Home and my favourite British mag- English Home.
You see, I really want to live in a thatched cottage in the Cotswolds.
I am still dreaming of not only a White Christmas but my cozy, Cotswold cottage.
However, if I tried to live in the UK, they'd exit me- as well as Brexit.
Obexit they'd call it.

Anyhoo, I enjoy peering through the pages and drinking in the holiday decorations and mood.
It's never too early.
Whatever gets you through the year-
or the possibility of a jail term.

I hope you'll all bake me Christmas cakes with files in them.
Actually, a key would be better.
I am no good with tools...

Monday, October 14, 2019

ROBBLOG #804- Dancing in The Street 'cause I Gotta Pee

Holy Pissoir Batman!

I cannot believe it!
I have been to Paris many times- not Paris Ontario which is lovely too, minus the Eiffel Tower, I mean Paris, France.
People.
No, no, no.
Check that.
Men, Pee on the streets of Paris. They always have but the intelligent politicians of Paris decided decades ago to place Pissoirs on many Paris Streets.

"A Pissoir is a structure that provides support and screening of urinals in a public space. It is a French Invention common in Europe."
That's what Wikipedia says.

It is there to help prevent French Men from urinating up against building, trees and motor cars.
What is it with men peeing in public?
I expect it's because they can just reach in their pants, pull out a plum, pee and say "What a good boy am I!"
Honestly...
It's a dirty habit.
To my vast international knowledge, I expected that pissoirs could only be found in France- specifically Paris as well as elsewhere in Europe.

Then, a few days ago while walking along a Victoria Street- here on Vancouver Island,  I come upon this structure on the street in Downtown Victoria:


I thought "What a nice green fence!" but why is there a logo of a man on the side. I walked in to investigate and around the corner I saw this:


Obviously not a pot in which to plant peonies but a pot to piss in!
I couldn't believe it. I took a photo.
Imagine, peeing on the street in Victoria, in Canada!
I have never seen this before. Here's what I've seen in other countries:


Here's a Pissoir in Paris, or below that a convenient, manly-looking street urinal in London.
Hmmm, I don't think so. Pizza Hut must love that parked across the street and just where does the "pee" go?

A Pissoir has it's place I guess and with dogs and men peeing willy-nilly from their willies I suppose it's a terrific idea. This Victoria Pissoir was a bright green not unlike the Paris Pissoirs. If you look at the picture, you can see where a gentleman pissing can quite easily look out between the lime-green slats and watch the world go by on a busy street corner all the while pissing to his heart's content. 

There's no roof on this Pissoirs which allows Jesus easy viewing as he watches grown men pee all the way down from Heaven. One walks from the outside of a Pissoirs to the inside via a swirl that resembles a swirl in a cinnamon bun.
That's kinda fun.
I don't know if one can wash one's hands. I didn't check that out. Maybe the silver box on the wall to the right contains wet naps.

The Paris Pissoirs are rather nice and are in keeping with architecture of the City of Lights. The photo that shows the London urinal above is new to me. I have never seen one of these contraptions on a London street. Doesn't it look like it's just sitting there on the sidewalk and maybe the urine just rolls out from underneath the structure into a curb-side gutter.
Wonderful.
In Paris you smell the pee on some streets. In London I don;t believe I have.

Now, as for women, I am sorry gals, there is no Pissoir for you and in this day that is well past the manifesto of Women's Lib. There is nothing that I know of that allows you to sit and pee on a busy city street. If I were you, I'd started making signs and arrange a pee protest as soon as possible.
"Equal Urination for Women!"
Pissoirs for Lady Pee!"
or
"Let Me Pee where I Will!"

Maybe a federal debate in Parliament is not out of the question or a huge, one day march on Parliament Hill in Ottawa.
Give us our Pissoirs!! Give us our Pissoirs!! Give us our Pissoirs!!
I mean this is perhaps as important as pipes for oil.

I dunno. I could be wrong.
I'm no politician just a concerned citizen who has to pee now and then.

Friday, October 11, 2019

ROBBLOG #803- Turkey Day



Thanksgiving My Dears!

I am sure it was just August yesterday...
Now, when we walk our Island neighbourhood there are pumpkins at doorways.
Colourful Mum pots on  front steps.
Some people add stalks of corn and bales of straw.
Nice.
Here on the Island Palm Trees are still green as are laurels and magnolias, arbutus trees and more.
Thanksgiving looks different here and I would hazard to say never, ever white like parts of Alberta and especially Manitoba have found this weekend.
I mean they don't call it Winterpeg for nothing- do they?

Canadian Geese are flapping their wings overhead leading me to believe I am still in Orillia, Ontario for a brief moment. The geese are here all year round as are robins.
Sometimes- when it's a quiet morning you can hear the "swoosh" of Geese wings as they pass overhead "honking" directions to each other as they search for the nearest- and safest,  patch of lawn or shoreline.

Flower gardens are put to bed.
Not all. The Dahlias and anemones are done.
Geraniums are still flowering and plants such as Camellia and Oregon Grape are setting buds for January. Winter blooming rhododendrons and heather are waiting to give us winter bloom.
Autumn and "Winter" on the island is much much different than elsewhere in Canada. It's our Mediterranean climate. Ponds and fountains are still active. Muskoka Chairs, lawn ornaments and garden gnomes used to be stored away in advance of winter days. Here they remain in the garden or on our front patio. Tidying up the yard is a chore I never looked forward to back east and now I can enjoy sitting in morning sunshine in my favourite yellow Muskoka Chair all the year round.


This Thanksgiving the aroma of turkey and ham, pumpkin pie and roasting apples are wafting from the kitchen.
Wafting?
I like that word.
Our fireplaces are blazing during cooler, Island nights. I love a fire. It's the centre piece of a room.

We take walks with our schnauzer Koko- not to see the colour change in the leaves because there's not much colour here except for brown and yellow. However, a long walk on sunny Cowichan Valley day is lovely.

There may be a morning visit- not too early,  to the Duncan Farmer's Market an outdoor, year-round Market for a special Jack-O-Lantern that will be carved with care and placed in a front window or on a veranda railing come Hallowe'en at the end of this month.

Elsewhere across this magnificent country friends, families and neighours gather to wish the best of the season and are "thankful" for whatever small pleasures are found in this world today.

There's thoughts of loved ones who are no longer sharing our table but always sharing and holding a special place in our heart.

Here's to a great Holiday.

A Happy, Joyous Thanksgiving.
Peace.
Love.
Just being together.
Good times.
Smiles and
Hearty Laughter.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

ROBBLOG #802- Radio Times


$142.50

That's what I was paid on the 15th and 30th of each month at the first radio station where I was employed. CKMP 1230.
$142.50.
Not much.Cripes!
I know it was back in 1972 but cripes anyway!
I even bought a new car on that salary. A Volkswagen Beetle.
Clementine in colour.
That's orange.
It was actually a Super Beetle.
I was going to buy a regular Beetle for $1999.00 but for a couple of hundred dollars more I could get one of the new Super Beetles with curved dash and two-speed fan.
Wow!
I was told there was one coming across the Atlantic on a ship and it could be mine if I wanted it.
I did.
I saw it the day it was delivered to the dealer in Orillia, Ontario.
It was covered in a thick, pasty, whitish wax to protect the finish from the salt water on the crossing
over from Germany. The dealership- Ruff Motors, took a couple of days to clean it up and get it ready for me.
I loved that Beetle.

Today, I am thinking about that meager pay today as I record "talk breaks" for Swisssh Radio. Swisssh is a station I have operated on the web for 13 years come March 2020. As if one station wasn't enough, I started another station- Starlite, in 2012.

I wish I got $142.50 today for running these online stations but I don't get a dime.
I do it for Love.
In fact it costs me about $250 a year for the servers to enable Starlite and Swisssh to broadcast to the world and then another yearly cheque paid to SOCAN for the rights to play music.
Who doesn't have to pay out money to buy supplies for a hobby? That's how I look at it.
These days it's a hobby.
It's a part of me I am not prepared to get rid of- yet.
That may happen one day and when it does it will happen suddenly and without warning.

A Cart Machine. Cart 403 would be a cart number of a commercial
I never thought that in the early days of my radio career at stations such as CKPM, CFOR, CHAY FM or CHOO that I'd be doing this radio thing from a studio in my home- but I am.
Nobody knew what was ahead with the world wide web or streaming.
Gosh we used basic stuff back then.
A microphone.
Records- those vinyl things in both 45 rpm and 33 rpm speeds.
A cart machine- it looked like an 8 track before 8 tracks were invented, that allowed us to play commercials and jingles. Sometimes we'd record the music onto these carts so as not to wear out the vinyl on the records. It extended the shelf life of the 45.
Our station logs were all figured out by hand and brain in those days by someone who worked in a department called "traffic". They would plot commercial breaks, news and weather reports as well as anything special that happened throughout the broadcast day.
They were the unsung heroes working on the station logs days in advance of broadcast.


It wasn't until the 90's the radio changed.
I had changed.
I left radio in the 80's all together. When I returned it was all computerized.
Yikes!
The  microphone was still there but now all the music, jingles and commercials were safely stored inside a computer. Station logs were generated by computers.
Announcers were replaced by computers- something we call voice-tracking.
I use VTKing to run Swisssh Radio.
It may sound like I am there- in person, however I'm not.
I can broadcast "live" on Swisssh but I don't too often.
I can sit in my studio for an hour or two and record more than 50 talk breaks and then have my computer programme to insert the breaks throughout the day. It works like a charm really and on the air it sounds professional and as if I was right there in the minute behind the microphone.
It may be cheating but it is what it is.
Maybe one day I'll do a live "show" for an hour or two each day. If I commit I need to be sure.
So far, I am not ready to commit to that.

Who knows?
Maybe for $142.50 twice a month, I'd think about it.