ROBBLOG #1000- Enough now...

 

"Eight is a lot of legs, David!"

That's one of my favourite lines from the Holiday movie- "Love, Actually"

and

1000 is a lot of RobBlogs, everybody.

That being said, I believe this is the last one.

The final RobBlog.

~tears~

I think I wrote the first in 2006- maybe 2004. I had thought of stopping at #500 but I continued.

It's a lot, David.

In fact turning 70 last summer seems to have me thinking it's time to let go of a few things- like extra Christmas ornaments or shirts and sweaters I hardly every wear. Then there's online radio stations like Swisssh and Starlite.

Swisssh will be on the internet 15 years on March 7th.

Starlite began on New Years Eve  2011, so that makes it a decade.

I have two Facebook Pages for the stations and a twitter account. They'll all close along with the Swisssh Website- which has been around a little longer.

This is a tough decision to pull the plug on the stations and I haven't made it for certain- yet I am getting there.  

Podcast seem to be the thing now and I have no interest in those.

Maybe I'll wait until March 7th.

Maybe not.

I am not giving up all media.

I recently started a You Tube Channel. 

I have the studio lights, a laptop and a tablet- for the videos and some nice viewing numbers already.

You can see it on YouTube by searching "Rob Reid Star" in the search box.

Subscribe if you will by clicking on the "Subscribe" button. It just lets you know when I've posted something new.

Now- Christmas.

Over the years I have written a seasonal greeting for the Holidays wishing one and all the best of the season. I'm not going to do that this year but I will say Merry Christmas, Happy Yuletide and all the best in the year ahead.

I hope this covid thing says tah tah in 2022 but I doubt it.

Is it the end of the world?

No, just a different world.

Forest fires, floods, cold, heat and covid.

What a mess!

So, my friends and readers, I bid you all adieu from this RobBlog site on blogspot.

Thanks for reading over the years.

I appreciate that so very much.

It's always hard to say goodbye and I absolutely hate goodbyes but there comes a time...

ROBBLOG #999- Fah Lah Lah Christmas, eh?

 

Where did a whole month go?

I am not apologizing.

I've been busy.

I've been thinking about ROBBLOG #999 and #1000.

Should I use 1000 for my yearly Christmas Greeting- or not.

I haven't decided yet.

So the Holidays are here. Fah, Lah, Lah Christmas, eh?

We have two trees up and outside the front door there's a tree with twinkling lights to the left, a lit wreath on the wall next to the twinkling tree and Mr. Bill- our lighted snowman sitting to the right.

Very festive.

Of course we don't usually have a white Christmas on Vancouver Island but then only this morning

2 cm of the white stuff fell and for a while it looked like a Christmas Card with all the trees on the mountains covered in heavy, white flakes.

It's melting now as the temperature rises and the sun comes out.

This year I bought these fancy GU10 bulbs for the lights up in the eves of the house. These bulbs change colour simply by pointing a remote at them. What doesn't work these days without a remote attached? I can choose a singular colour like red or green or change to the bulbs to revolve through 10 to 15 different colours.

It's quite pretty and many passerby's are commenting on how nice the lights look. 

I had the lights all orange for Hallowe'en. 

I love the blues and the mauves.

Red and Green look very Christmassy as well.

My Online stations are keeping me busy. Both Starlite and Swisssh have been all Holiday Music for a couple of weeks. Now that it's December I throw in a carol or two like "Do You Hear What I Hear?" but most of the music is secular. Listen to the stations at www.swisssh.ca

You can ask Alexa-

"Alexa, ask tunein (or Simple Radio) to play s w i s s s h (or s t a r l i t e) Radio."

Enjoy the musical Holiday Delights!

As if I'm not busy enough keeping the online radio stations flowing with Holiday Tunes, I've started a You Tube Blog.

Yes- I am what is known as a "Vlogger ".

I've recorded four or five vlogs but I have a lot to learn.

I want the vlogs to be more professional.

I need to learn editing, camera angles, lighting and how to add words across the screen. Thank Goodness all my radio years taught me how to ad-lib.

Remember, I'm an old "radio guy" not video guy!

I'd like to buy one of those flat, circular lights to keep me looking my best in the videos while recording. I think makeup- a bit, would help too. All the professional Vloggers treat the Vlogs as Television or Theatre- so why the hell not?

No one needs to see my 70 year old liver spots! A dab or two will make things look "prettier"- if that's possible. Anyhoo, watch my Vlog and "Subscribe". Search "Rob Reid Star Channel" on You Tube.

Then click on my headshot for the home page. Up aboue you'll see "videos". Click and choose. There are a couple of shows there as well including- "The Importance of Being Earnest".

I had been considering a podcast but I think this is more fun and it only take a few minutes to record and load straight onto You Tube.

I will get better at this as soon as I can find a few hours to sit down and learn editing etc. I'd like to put some non-copyrighted music on the Vlogs too. I'd like to do all this in the next week to be ready for a nice Christmas Vlog.

Have I bitten off more than I can chew?

Perhaps...

In the meantime- Happy Holidays. Be kind to each other.

This is a wonderful season to be cheerful.

I must dash though...

I have things to learn and all at the ripe old age of a septuagenarian.

ROBBLOG #998- Slap!

 

A phrase that comes up time and time again when reading one of my favourite magazines- English Home,  is : "I don't have anything too precious."

The homeowner on one hand is meaning he/she doesn't have a lot of breakable, expensive, nice things

that could be broken by visitors. On the other hand maybe he/she has already dispersed precious keepsakes.

Either way it's not my way.

When thinking about the future and what I will eventually do with all my "stuff", I realize my major problem is I have too much stuff and it's all precious- to me at least. I know when I shuffle off to the great beyond nobody will want this stuff.

That's a shame.

Much of it is family stuff.

A clock from my Dad's Dad- my Grandfather. 

A charcoal photo of my Grandmother and her brother.

A rocking chair from Lottie- my Mum's Mum and her China set with it's 22 ct gold trimmings.

There's more but I'd be here all day listing the items including a Santa Claus from Christmas 1963 given to me by my Grandmother Lillian Reid. That furry Claus started my Santa Claus collection. HIs beard is a little ratty and yellowy all these decades later but he is still my favourite.

Maybe I can slip him away with me.

Comforting thought to say the least.

I'd better stop or I'll start bawling....

It's a conundrum.

Nieces and nephews have no interest.

The Mister and I have no kids.

Yes folks- I'm barren!

My Siblings have some stuff of their own so they don't need mine to add to their pile.

Do you worry about things like this?

As I start working my way through seventyhood, I seems I have the need to disperse these "precious" things- a plan even.

Not that I plan on going anywhere soon but there's that old adage-

Here today. Gone tomorrow.

Then the Mister has to deal with it.

He tells me not to worry about it.

"What will you care"- he says, "You'll be dead!"

I guess this means I won't have any of my "precious accoutrements in "Heaven" unless he sends them Canada Post Express to wherever I'll be. I must remember when I do leave to jot down a forwarding address. That would be helpful- wouldn't it?

Now that I think of it, if I stopped reading Obits from back home, I'd be better. 

Every few weeks I search through the listings of those who have passed. Usually there's one or two folks I knew way back when- like the High School History Teacher Mr. Wilson whose class I never actually took but used to talk to frequently.

Probably because my cousin Jude babysat for he and his wife.

It's a strange place to be this 70 something.

I don't feel like 70 something but apparently the BC government has plopped me in the fragile senior category offering me my Senior "booster" Covid shot and imploring me to get a flu jab.

I've never had a flu shot.

Like the anti-vaxxers, I guess I feel I can beat the flu.

I am invincible.

Maybe what Dr. Henry here in British Columbia is saying to me is a wakeup call.

In person- like Cher, she might slap me across the cheek and say- 

"Snap out of it!"

Ouch!!

ROBBLOG #997- French like France

 

First off.

Notice this Blog is number 997.

Only 3 blogs and I reach 1000.

A milestone. What happens next?

I had planned to stop writing at number 500.

What happened?

I should go back to number 500 and have a read.

This past week, I slipped into Homo Depot to buy chalked paint.

For several years I have had a yearning to paint our oak dining set and hutch French Linen White.

We had been through a few days of fog and mist and rain when about 4ish in the afternoon I says

to the Mister- "That's it. Homo Depot has the chalked paint I have been wanting back in stock. I'm going to do it!"

And I did.

I painted and chalked my little heart out for a couple of days. Then, I waxed my work.

Overall it was pretty easy.

No prep.

Just paint- although a wipe down doesn't hurt.

Chalk paint doesn't splatter much and it goes on quickly. The end product is bee-you-tea-ful.

A French White Dining room in a day plus a few hours to wax once the chalked paint is completely dry.

This Solid Oak Dining set was made by Mennonites in Ontario- near Guelph, thirty four years ago.

It has stood the test of time but it was looking dated.

I love the French look. Some call it Farmhouse.

The Mister calls it- "I'm not sure but as long as you like it..."

I am used to these retorts these days.

Anyhoo, I do love the look and it brings the white woodwork in the dining area to life.

So back up a bit.

When I stepped into Homo Depot I walked into seasonal splendour. The store just inside the main doors was stocked from ceiling to floor with Holiday decor. There was not a ghoul in sight only reindeer, Christmas Trees and sparkle.

I had a quick look even though I was on a chalked paint mission. On a top shelf I could see a six foot Eiffel Tower. Definitely not as large as the original in Paris but with the twinkling lights it was a very reasonable facsimile in understated gold.

When you visit the tower in Paris it actually is a rusty brown.

This store model was a flat gold. It drew my interest because I bought the same tower in white years ago.

Since my purchase, the twinkling lights have all stopped twinkling and I have had to re-string it with simple, white fairy lights. It works. Just not as pretty as with the prelit twinkling lights. I noticed the price at one hundred and seventy dollars was not as pretty as before either.

I believe a ten dollar can of gold spray paint could give my tower a lift but I'd have to remove the lights, then spray the gold and re-string the lights.

Not sure I'm up for the redo.

I've painted enough this week but never say never.

As a final thought I encourage you to think about "prelit" anything. Over the years I haven't had the best luck when it comes to prelit trees- indoor or outdoor as well as prelit geese. It sure saves time when decorating a tree. Then one year you plug it in and half the tree is dark.

I am thinking about that this year.

Our huge 14 foot prelit, 900 light indoor tree from Costco is looking at its 6th year this Holiday Season.

I hope the heck it works when I plug it in.

If it goes dark you'll hear me scream from British Columbia all the way back to Ontario!

ROBBLOG #996- Sore as "Ho"

 

I fell walking through the man door into our garage.

It was wet out front.

I was barefoot.

I went outside to take down a pumpkin banner that was flapping and snapping in the mountain breeze.

As I stepped into the garage over the threshold and through the door, my right heel slid forward on the floor causing me to fall on the cement on my left knee. I am bruised on my knee and sore from neck to waist on my right side. In hindsight, if I was attempting the splits as a ballet dancer I would be proud.

The Mister opened the door into the mud room just as I was getting up.

He panicked.

I said I am fine but I'll be sore.

What is it that makes us Seniors fall?

I came in the house. Iced my bruised knee and sat down to peruse the CBC News website.

On the second row of stories down the page was the headline- "Risk of Falls for Seniors".

Apparently we seniors- over 65, flop to the floor enough times to have falling related injuries the number one reason we are hospitalized.

I may have gone to the hospital if my right leg had been wrapped up around my neck but it wasn't and I didn't. The article pointed to hearing loss and vision loss as the causes of us smacking the deck. Losing our balance was the result. In my case it was a slippery garage floor. Good Gawd, I might have chipped a tooth or broke my nose. I wouldn't have gone out for weeks what with the swelling and black and blue around my eyes, nose and mouth.

Of course, I repeat- I am fine but I am sore.

I don't feel like 70 but somehow some things I do point to the fact I am and I am not pleased.

A neighbour asked if I wanted to borrow a cane.

"Have one and used one before"- I said, "but thanks."

Crap.

These days my skin is much thinner too. I can mark my arm with anything vaguely sharp like a rubber ball- and have blood gush forth like never before. If our Mini Schnauzer pulls at my arm wanting a treat or a walk, her nails gouge my skin. The rich, crimson blood flows around the blonde hairs on my arm and droplets hit the floor.

This is crazy and the marks take longer to heal than they did in my previous youth.

Some days I should just lock myself in a padded room.

I'd be safe.

Lonely but safe.

I'd better go and apply another ice pack to my knee.

It's smarting a bit.

I have Dr. Ho to help my right side. He doesn't come to the house. I keep his equipment in a drawer in the "Boy's Room"- our main floor powder room.

I use his pads quite often.

Buying his contraption in a search for pain relief, I feel that I have provided extra cash so he can continue to enjoy his life on his huge yacht with all those nubile, blonde girls sunning themselves on every deck.

I'm sure Dr. Ho is well aware how often we oldsters fall or are in pain.

He's stepped up to the plate

...which is better than falling on it. 

ROBBLOG #995- Over the Log

 

I had to reach out to a friend who had recently sunk down a dark, black hole called depression.

It's a bitch.

I suffered from depression years ago.

It's still there inside my head.

At my lowest point down that hole, I was given a choice- hospital or staying with someone- outside of my immediate family, who would care for me. My Cousin Judy- who passed a couple of years back, stepped up to the plate.

I will always love her and will never forget her for that.

She saved me.

You saved me Jude!

I always suffered most at the changing of the season from summer to autumn. I don't know why.

Late August through the fall when it seems everything dies.

Weather changed. Seasons changed and so did I.

At that lowest point I stopped going to work. I lied. I stayed home. In my state of depression I needed to be alone and to be surrounded by my things. I remember thinking if I was a millionaire I could deal with this. I wouldn't have to work and I could take off somewhere whenever I wanted.

I thought it would cure me.

It would have made me feel better but a cure? Not sure there even is a cure. 

It's more of an understanding how to cope and still live a normal life- not that I personally have lived a "normal life" whatever that is...

One day- the final day before I got help, my Mum and Sister, found me crouched in a fetal position

between my bed and a wall.

I was so low.

So low...

I wasn't answering my phone.

People were worried and rightly so.

When I was at the bottom of that dark, deep hole, I had to be on drugs to level myself out.

This was about 1980.

Mental Health issues were not talked about.

If one was depressed one was told to pull up one's socks

and get on with it. 

My Dad told me that.

The brain knew different, however.

A broken arm people could see and understand.

A Mental illness and confusion- not so much

Anyhoo, it was three months or so for me to get back to feeling sort of okay. 

I had put on weight. 

My clothes felt tight. 

My cheeks were chubby.

I was tired but looking forward.

I was "okay enough" to be out in public and even well enough to want to return to work.

I tried.

It didn't go quite to plan.

My work- CHAY FM at the time, let me go.

I went in for a meeting all set to go back to work and they kindly let me go never understanding what

pain I had been through. None of the three managers at the meeting could look me in the eye.

I was done.

I bawled my eyes out in the car as I drove home.

One of my major problems resulting in "the Great Depression" was being in the closet.

I was 29.

On the final day I saw a psychiatrist he said to me:

"Rob you know what you have to do, so go out there and do it."

I did.

I called someone I had met that I knew was Gay and off I went to Toronto never telling a soul why.

After a few weeks- and not long before Christmas, I began to come out to family and friends.

Imagine if every straight person had to come out to family and friends.

For most Gay folks- like myself, it's a journey we must take.

It's like jumping over a log to a better side of the meadow.

Crossing a line in the sand to personal freedom.

It felt great and so right and remember this was 1980 not 2021!

It's a life-changing experience and takes guts but it's a road to wellness I had to take and wanted to take.

My Mum called me one day and said my Dad didn't want me to come home for Christmas!

How nice!

After struggling for months this was not what I needed to hear but I was stronger and moved forward.

Then, at the last minute she called and said Dad had changed his mind.

"Come home for Christmas"- she said.

I said- no.

I had other plans.

I had to watch myself for a few years.

I had to be careful and watch for depression's warning signs.

Things eventually fell into place.

After a relationship from hell in Toronto, I met the current "Mister" on a plane to Honolulu.

A few weeks later when we met up back on Toronto, I told him what I had been through what with depression and coming out a few years before.

Funnily enough, I helped him come out. He hadn't jumped over the log as of yet.

He helped me with my depression. He stayed strong when the vile illness tried to rear its ugly head in the next few years.

I still have "episodes" now and then. 

A small blip but I handle it as best I can.

At least I don't curl up between my bed and a wall any more!

Just a couple of years ago I wanted to go back to Ontario when I found myself dreadfully homesick. I thought maybe we- I, had made a mistake coming to the Island.

Depression is a devil of an illness and creeps up on you.

I had tears.

I tried to feel better and did eventually. Nothing like 1980.

I was just sad and feeling away from everything I had known.

Several people back in "Old Home" had passed and we couldn't go home.

The "monster" lurked and I had warning signals but I beat it back.

I'll always have some form of depression. 

It's in me.

I have to control it and I do.

Recently, I asked the Mister- "If we still lived in Orillia right now, would we make the move to the Island?"

It's a hard call to make and I don't know why I asked the question in the first place. I still get a pull from "old home" and the Autumn season now and then it leaves as quickly as it comes.

Most importantly, if you believe you are suffering from depression, know you are not a alone.

That's the most important part of all this depression crap.

You go to the people who support you and understand and it's not always those closest to you. 

Some people have a very hard time sorting through things like this and want no part of it.

If they only knew what it was like for us...

So that's my rambling on my life with depression.

Get help.

Keep strong.

Remember "Life is Good".

Lean on those you can.

and

Be Well.

ROBBLOG #994- NO HO HO HOliday Shopping

 

I guess we won't see Berlin or Paris or London this coming Holiday Season.

We've made two appointments during the time period we usually go. We didn't go last season due to covid but we had hopes that this year would be different.

It's not.

Perhaps it's even worse.

Documents needed. Masks. Do this. Don't do that. I'm NOT doing that.

Be safe.

How the hell can we be sure?

Oh, we could go to London and do some of our fun Christmas things like window shopping at Selfridges or having a meal at our favourite Oxford Street Pub The Three Tuns. The question is- if we were exposed to this new strain of covid or the next we'd have to stay another 14 days in a hotel at our expense.

That would break the bank.

Worst scenario- we get covid 4.0 and we'd have to stay in a hospital and accrue medical expenses.

None of this sounds like a good plan.

I know I'll miss the Holiday Spirit conjured up when we've gone in past years. The shopping at Primark

for clothes especially. It's a must when visiting Oxford Street at Christmas. We'd fill a Primark shopping basket with new things- even though we had no need of yet another shirt or pair of socks.

Primark is remarkably inexpensive and yet the store always has the latest in fashions. Hanging in my closet from past years is a grey duffel coat that cost me 30 pounds. The one with the oblong wooden buttons you slip through a small hoop, then turn to secure.

There's the leather jacket that cost 35 pounds. At the time I bought it, I didn't need another leather jacket but I couldn't pass up the price!

In my closet you would also find shoes and numerous styles and colours of shirts all bought for 10 pounds or less. This stuff lasts way longer than the six dollar T Shirts at Wally World!

The tragedy is because of covid we are waiting for next year unless a big miracle happens between now and the first of November. I'd be happy going for an extended weekend instead of the 10 days or so that usually makes up this excursion.

I would love to know I'd be strolling along the Champs-Elysees in Paris ogling the Christmas lights or checking out the Christmas Market. Buying some little thing and having an afternoon coffee at Le Depart de Saint-Michel. 

~heavy sigh~

Not this year.

We had even contemplated starting our Holiday Trip in Berlin. Visiting an Aunt and then taking the train to Paris and then the Eurostar to St. Pancreas in London.

Again, not this year.

Damn.

Damn covid and damn those unvaccinated who are fueling this 4th wave.

The numbers tell the story.

Up to 80% of people hospitalized or in ICU's here in British Columbia are unvaccinated.

Our daily numbers are as high or higher than the wave prior to this past summer.

So the Mister and I are not about to sacrifice our health and safety and head to England- or France, because of the uneducated un-jabbed.

Only this past week we were talking to someone we have known for a few years who works in a busy store here on Vancouver Island only to discover this person is NOT vaccinated. This person is absolutely convinced they will NOT get covid nor pass it along to someone else.

They believe it's all a ruse perpetrated by the government.

They read it on the internet.

Huh, must be true.

Give me strength.

ROBBLOG #993- Any "portico" in a Storm

 

A portico.

I want a portico.

Seems like something someone might shove in my Christmas Stocking. Alas, a portico would be too darn big. 

A portico is a structure- usually made of wood.

I saw one in a House and Home Magazine from a year ago. I bought the magazine last fall but because of our move to this mountain home, I suppose I only briefly glanced through its colourful pages. One of the feature articles was about a Gay couple who had bought at 1795 Georgian home in Chester, Nova Scotia. They called their home "White Cottage" for it is- white. It also has several bars so I would expect "Bar Cottage" would have been suitable as well. I don't suppose they'd mind me mentioning they had several bars since they were featured in the magazine.

From their main living room a covered walkway led the way to this "Portico". A covered portico.

It had a roof- as porticos do- although some may be open like a pergola. 

That's another Blog.

The portico had a river-rock, wood-burning fireplace and plenty of seating. Three sides of the portico were open to the elements, so in a stiff winter wind- as I am sure Chester has, it would feel a bit nippy- even with a blazing fire.

A pile of colourful blankets sat on one of the surrounding benches so one could cozy up tight.

It all looks very romantic- being the feature was shot for the Holidays. A nearby gate adjoining a white picket fence, sported a huge, real evergreen wreath tied with a  holly berry red bow.

A hot toddy, hearty flames and good conversation would make this portico a grand spot to be- even if it were a bit chilly.

Chester by the by is located on Mahone Bay in Nova Scotia, west of Halifax. Possibly their winters are milder because of the proximity to the ocean and the protected bay.

This is an elegant entrance portico.

The cottage is gorgeous and now I want a portico at the front of Palm Villa. We have an automatic, retractable awning installed there now but a solid, all wood, covered portico would be lovely. Not being a carpenter I believe I can see that it would require two stout pillars on one side and the other would be lashed to the house just above the studio window. I would prefer a covered roof so during inclement, rainy weather one could comfortably sit beneath it, coffee in hand.

Again, not being a professional carpenter, I should think the price of construction would be reasonable- meaning not too intolerably expensive. How much can a couple of pillars, a few brackets and a bit of wood set one back? I'll let you know when I find out. It could quite easily be my next major project after we receive the estimate for wooden shutters on four of our windows.

We had roller blinds installed a year ago when we moved in but they have proved unworthy. The original idea with blinds and not shutters was to allow us to roll the blinds up to reveal our million-dollar view. What we quickly discovered come late spring and throughout the summer, there was no view since we had to keep the blinds pulled down eight hours a day to keep the sun from fading furniture and artwork.

Who knew?

Anyhoo, now we are beginning the expensive process of installing wooden shutters which should have been our initial choice. We've lived with shutters in our previous two homes and we know they look classically traditional and allowed us to move louvers up and down to re-direct sunlight.

We're never too old to learn a valuable lesson in decor- are we?

Maybe one day in the near future- after we are shuttered, I can convince the Mister that a portico is the way to go.

Wish me luck!

ROBBLOG #992- Holy Snappers!

 

Holy Snappers! It's September first!

Cool, crisp days are ahead. Like sticking your head in a frost-free refrigerator. Not so crisp right away here in the Mediterranean climate of the Cowichan Valley on Vancouver Island. We still keep mild and there'll be lots of sunshine before the rains roll in come November.

Boy do we need the rain.

It's the same every summer.

Drought, fires and brown.

The "winter" greens up nicely. Anemones, Winter Jasmine, snowdrops and Camellias bloom shortly after the new year a time that our friend Tall Steve calls "spring". There always seems to be something in bloom on our Island.

September first.

School.

Elections (Bah-Humbug)

Harvest decor. Thanksgiving. Light parades. 

Santa Claus Parades and then "BOOM"- Christmas.

It seems to fly by faster every year.

Come September and the first cool, damp day I can't help myself. I pick up my stack of Christmas Magazines that go back more than 20 years. 

I sort them by titles as well as by years.

Some of the Home Magazines from the 80's start to look a little dated. I may flip through their colourful pages like a kid in a candy shop but mostly it's just a flip through.

Here on the Island we don't have raking to do like back at Pine Tree House. Our trees and most shrubs are evergreen- at least on our property. People do have Maples but a tall, Arbutus keeps leaves year round and looks spectacular in January.

Costco will have their assortment of trees ready soon and last week I could see Home Depot was shuffling summer stuff out of the aisle to make way for seasonal decor. Of course, because of the weather here lawnmovers, blowers, mulch, bags of dirt and more are available year round. You won't see a display of shovels and scrapers appear until we have a few centimetres of snow and then it's all very last minute.

Last year just before a freek, February snowstorm the Mister asked the fellah in Canadian Tire for a snow scraper. We hadn't brought one from Ontario.

The fellah scratched his head and said- "We should have a box of them around here somewhere, if I could just remember where. Could you come back tomorrow?"

The Mister assured him we could to which he answered- "A credit card works!"

"We use debit mostly."- replies the Mister.

"No, No."- The Canadian Tire man says, "I mean to scrape your windshield!"

The Island, eh?

So as the light fades a little more each evening and we feel a bit of a "chill" in the air, thoughts- my thoughts at least, turn to another season not too far off where I dream of pumpkin pie, whipped cream,

oatmeal for breakfast and holiday shopping.

I'd better get making a list...

ROBBLOG #891- A "Huge" Blog

 

Why can't I have a body like "Huge" Jackman.

I asked The Mister that very question.

"Why can't I have a body like Hugh (I call him "Huge") Jackman?"

"Honey, You're just not built that way- nor are you tall enough."

"I just thought with all the backyard labour I've been doing lately, my muscles would bulge and I'd grow a few inches."

"Darling,"- he answered with a wide grin, "If it was meant to be that you had a build like "Huge" it would most certainly have happened by now. Be happy with what you have."

Oh piffle and poppycock!

I met him- in person, once you know. "Huge" was standing outside the stage entrance at the Princess of Wales Theatre in Toronto. He signed a DVD cover of his stint in Oklahoma for me.

He looked at the curly-haired image on the cover, then smiled and said in his ever-so-cute Aussie accent-

"Well, that was a long time ago Bruce!".

He actually didn't call me "Bruce" but it gives you a small slice of the accent I heard.

He was charming.

Yummy.

Handsome.

Rugged...

and tall.

The show we saw was amazing.

Legs like a Vegas Showgirl!

A waist small and tight and a tuft of Australian chest hair peeking over the top of his brilliant, white shirt- which I kept hoping someone would rip off his damp, hairy body.

No one did.

Damn...

I see "Huge" is in a new movie these days.

Looks like it's about regressing oneself back in time.

Reminiscence?

Anyhow, it appears to give him the opportunity to strip off his shirt. It's a prominent shot in any of the promotional material I've seen on Twitter. I say good for him.

A man should be used from time to time as a ruddy slab of fresh meat.

Use him and then forget about him.

Throw him away.

Except I wouldn't. I'd be kind. Gentle.

I'd invite him for tea- around the swimming pool of course- if I had one.

We "boys" need something pretty to look at from time to time and "Huge" will do just fine.

I know he has a wife but she just has to get used to this adoration and share- right Dear?

Deb was in the audience at the Price of Wales.

He introduced her.

Blah. Blah. Boring.

I guess she has her use and I am sure she is a lovely person who gets to see "Huge" prancing naked out of the shower on most days.

"Huge" shirtless in his newest movie

"Huge" has "boyfriends too.

Ryan Reynolds is one. They look pretty tight.

I wonder if they've ever...

Naw...

That's just in my mind and in a perfect world.

So, I work away making paths on our terraced backyard. Sweating in the hot August sun. Laying down bag after bag of subdued red mulch.

Next a fence.

Down about terrace number four, we're running a decorative fence from one side of the property to the other. It's a natural cedar colour. It's not going to keep deer or vermin out. It's just going to be a backdrop to the terraces. A place where one's eyes stop.

Did you know that "Huge" spells "colour"- being Australian, like we do in this Dominion of Canada.

Yes he does!

It brings me closer to him.

Now this fence. It's like an upstage curtain with evergreen plantings along it's run so things will look pretty and green all year through.

We can have that on the island you know.

Pretty things.

Like the very talented "Huge" Jackman

I think I'll call my fence "Huge".

Strong.

Strapping.

Naturally rough.

~pause~

Really, it's probably time for me to get a reality slap- isn't it?

ROBBLOG #890- It's Black. It's All Black.

 

September 20th. Circle your calendar.

It's rumoured- and may be true while this RobBlog is posted, to be the date we Canadians will go to the polls federally. I am already planning to sleep late, keep my blinds pulled down and watch old Bette Davis movies.

After the last time I voted here on the Island, I swore I never would again. The "bullies" who ran the poll made my mind up for me. You may remember that I was attending to vote with a friend- a Brit, who was going to vote in Canada for the first time. Like Justin Trudeau, I wanted to take a photo of her slipping her ballot into the box.

Verbotten! I was told and she was too. It was a case of a breach of National Security. Ottawa would fall. The Governor-General and the Queen would decide our fate. Bullshit and Poppycock but I was worried that the Poll "bullies" would report me to the authorities. I was led to believe such insurrection and un-canadianizum would not be tolerated.

What the fuck is this? Russia?

Anyhoo, I called elections Canada because I was afraid I would be hunted down and jailed and was politely told that Justin- or his people, would have asked those in position of authority if he could politely take a photo of he and the wife shoving the ballot in the box.

Really?

Anyhoo, my blood pressure is rising so I'll not re-live any more of that afternoon but still, I have decided not to vote. Sure hope Jann Arden doesn't find out and give me a hefty tongue lashing. I mean I don't eat beef and pork these days but chicken and turkey are staples in my diet and I know she would prefer me to go as Frank Sinatra once sang- "'All the Way".

Oh Jann, I am trying. Not voting but trying to be kind to all animals.

I really am...

A final Jann thought, season three of "Jann" airs on CTV in September.

So an election.

Governor General Mary Simon will approve- this will be her first major decision.

What if she refuses?

I'd like to see that actually.

Once her edict goes forward and Parliament and everything else gets cancelled, we Canadians are into 36 days of lying, cheating, backstabbing, more lying,  nasty commercials and more lying. Thank goodness this only goes on for 36 days and not months like some countries around the world.

The Prime Minster.

 Hey, we've all done black-face right? Haven't we? Right?

Anyway, he's the one in the centre. In case you're wondering, copious amounts of Vodka were involved 

resulting in things coming back full circle to bite him in the ass. You'll see this photo again in the next 36 days or so...

It will be interesting to see how a Federal Election will work in this time of covid and possibly the 4th wave. Although, I think someone said yesterday that Canada is now in the 4th wave.

These days who do we believe?

Justin? He can't give a straight answer to a straight question if he tried.

Reporter: Mr. Prime Minister, is one plus one, two?

Justin: Our government is working daily on doing the best for Canadians and creating more jobs across the country while ignoring Quebecers and their sovereign nation as well as those Indigenous people across this great land who we acknowledge are interested in bringing change to every street and place name in every village, town and city across this country.

Reporter: So the answer is?

Justin: As I have said many times before, our government is working daily and will continue to do so...

Reporter: Ah, Prime Minister, we get it. No more questions thank you.

Justin: No, thank you and remember "JANN" premiers on CTV next month!

I was planning on making fun of  "The Tool" or "Sing a Song" or whomever is running for the "out of touch greens" but I have used up my 500 words or less.

A final thought.

Keep in mind the case numbers for covid are climbing across the country and here in BC as we await this election. Our Dr. Baloney is not saying that all the cases on the BC mainland or Vancouver Island- or at least 80 to 90 percent of cases, are anti-vaxers or the "non vaccinated". 

We just have to guess as the government keeps us in the dark.

Anti-Vaxers and the non-vaccinated.

Sounds like a tribe of zombies or vampires roaming the earth looking for victims.

Hey, you know what?

That's exactly what it is...

ROBBLOG #889- Firm Tits, Being 70 and More

 

So, here's the thing...

I turned 70 recently.

No, not the number of times I turned dirt in my garden.

No not onto a Hwy.

It's age.

I am now fucking 70!

I could apologize for the language but apparently at 70 one doesn't have to.

I wasn't crotchety in my 60's but I think 70 and up creates a whole new level of telling it like it is.

Gal at a counter says- "Can I help you sir?"

I say- "When I'm good and fucking ready sister. Stop talking!"

Now, I wouldn't do that- ever.

I am really Mr. "Nice Guy".

In fact I am known for it. It's just I feel a little more freedom in what I could say- not what I would say.

Believe me, I have known folks who thrive on belittling others.

Those who are cranky and cantankerous. Not nice humans.

Those types are vexations to the spirit.

So here I sit in my 71st year- it just keeps getting better doesn't it? I mean I order my A10 blonde hair colour through WalMart so I don't have to have it displayed in my shopping cart as I shop the cat food aisle.

There's a dead giveaway to old age.

A man shopping for cat food.

Apparently, my body will start to age even faster now.

I'll have to use mega bottles of face cream.

I'll have to walk more. Bicycle more. Watch what I eat a little more than in the past.

Will my "tits" start to sag in this decade? 

(Some Gay men call their chest or pecs- tits.)

So far, they have not.

They are both rather perky and look pretty damn good in a semi-tight, white tee shirt- if I do say so myself...for being 70.

I need to do a few more pectoral exercises.

Lean forward. Grab each forearm and push and push and push. One, two, three...

This exercise works- if your wondering.

I've used it for years.

This is not me. It's a reasonable facsimile- in my mind!

I wonder if I'll be a Daddy Fag who still ogles men whenever I get the chance?

Probably...

Case in point a new neighbour has built a pool. I see him and his friends in their boxer trunks splashing around. Sitting in the sun with drinks in hand slapping their tanned thighs when someone tells a funny.

What the hell happened to Speedos? Why are they only prolific on Australian beaches?

I am dying to ask the neighbour if he's been "Speedo Shopping". You know- in jest of course.

So 70.

Seventy.

65 plus 5= 70.

80 minus 10=70

The way I see it, I'm on the downside of the mountain but I'm digging in my heels to slow my descent.

Is 70 the new 50?

I'm not sure.

If one is healthy and happy, then yes. I am sure it's a whole different kettle of speedos if one is not well and suffering from a half dozen health problems.

That photo at the top of my blog by the way is me from 5 years ago. It was taken by Seanna Kreager.

Seanna lives in Ottawa and I live on Vancouver Island. Too much distance for a photo shoot.

I am going to get a "headshot" done now I'm 70.

Egads!

That could be scary but photographers can play with light and smooth things out- just a little.

Can't they?

Oh vanity, thy name is Rob.

Why change now?

I'm 70....

ROBBLOG #888- Give Me A Bag, Please

 

Many years ago my Mother and her friend were talking about an acquaintance.

This acquaintance they had not seen for several years.

"I wonder how old he'd be- if he's still alive at all"- the friend says.

"Oh Goodness,"-says my Mum," He must be an awful age by now..."

An awful age.

That's 70.

That's me.

Today. It's right where I am at and let me tell you, it IS an awful age- especially if you still believe- inside, you're 27.

I wouldn't want to be 27 again but being a tad younger would be nice.

Life is good and I can't complain.

"You go Gurl!"

Then, there was yesterday.

We were lunching and shopping in Victoria with friends.

After lunch we headed to the Bay Centre. 

I needed some eye cream from The Body Shop. I've been using this particular cream under my eyes for a century it seems and I believe it keeps my eyes looking younger and refreshed.

Anyhow, I pick up two small bottles of the eye cream and it tallies seventy-seven dollars and change.

The young gal behind the counter who also suggests I spread the cream on my lips, asks -

"Would you like to place your Body Shop purchase in a bag for 25 cents?"

Well, my first reaction was WTF?

The next was...well never mind...but it pissed me off.

I spend seventy-seven bucks and The Body Shop is too cheap to throw in a quarter bag?

Good Grief!

Earlier, I had made a purchase at a new shop run by a gal from Dublin- Ireland, who by way of Saskatoon, ended up on the Island. She sells Floral Perfumery.

A beautiful shop. It's at www.zingaropure.com

She gives the Mister and I our purchase in a lovely bag tied up with fresh, fragrant greenery.

How nice.

No charge and a big smile too.

I also remember the day before here in the Cowichan, we shopped at a lovely home store run by a former Ontarian from Buckhorn. Brian's been on Island for 10 months. His shop is just barely a couple of months old and he gave us two "free" bags.

Check him out at-

www.countryhomeandkitchen.ca

So what I am trying to say is here's The Body Shop who happens to be a chain where I've spent hundreds of dollars over the years and they are too Fucking cheap to place my purchase in a little bag.

They could have gone to the Dollar Store and bought a box of doggie poop bags and had 60 bags to use for customers. It doesn't sit well with me- environment conscious or not, or whatever the reason for the pathetic 25 cent charge.

It's just wrong and that's that.

Customer service is key and if the little guy can do it- why can't the Body Shop?

Yesterday, it ruined my almost 70 year old afternoon. My friends and the Mister are tired of hearing the story but after all I'm an old guy now and I can vent if I want to...

Do you hear that Body Shop?

ROBBLOG #887- Don't Call us Anymore- You're Old.

 

So I have a rather large birthday ahead.

I will become a septuagenarian.

A Gay septuagenarian.

Damn and Double Damn. Many of my friends are in the same age bracket.

Nothing I can do about it. Seventy may be a very pleasant place to be in this game of life we all play.

I tell the Mister that I have another 13 good years left. 13 times to put up the Christmas Tree.

13 more trips to Hawaii, 13 more summers.

It's a short ride. 

Only time will tell how short.

I still have most of my hair.

I can jauntily climb out of bed- most mornings.

I can walk many kilometres in a stretch.

I ride my bile. Okay, it is an ebike but still I do a lot of  the pedaling myself.

I don't take my shirt off in public anymore which results in the best "farmer's tan" I've ever seen on a septuagenarian.

My dimming eyesight requires glasses for not just reading but distance and I may have glaucoma developing in my left eye. That will be confirmed or denied in the next month. 

Not a happy thought.

I can still pee unassisted and I am not yet wearing those under panties in a box I pass by every time I shop at WalMart. Actually, the handsome "Daddy" on the box's cover seems quite proud to be wearing the fashionable diapers. I hope I feel that proud when I slap on a pair.

You've all heard it before- we're not here for a long time. Just a short time.

We had better make the best of it.

The Angel of Death could come calling at any moment! I hope he's handsome!

I'm not being morbid here and I'm not dwelling on the end of days for me- although The Mister would tell you a different story. I am just trying to get my head around the swiftness that brought me from a little kid to an "old man".

Me at about 23 years of age with long hair- ya damn hippy!

That's my brand, spanking new Volkswagen Beetle in Clementine Orange. I loved her.

Then yesterday to drive home the point that I have a relatively short time left on earth, the Royal Bank of Canada sends me a letter. The letter says due to the fact that I am turning 70, they will not be able to cover my on demand account with life insurance at month's end after my birthday.

How nice of them.

Banked with them for decades.

Paid their stupid fees and now they don't want to take a chance on me any longer. I am lucky there's a nil balance on the account but still- what the fuck?

I am not just a liability, I am an old fucker who's a liability.

I mean they didn't even wish me a happy birthday.

"Sincerely" the form letter was signed.

Not "Sincerely and Happy Birthday" just "Sincerely".

There was a postscript:

"If the information that we have about your birth date is incorrect, please call us as soon as possible you old fart."

Okay, I added the old fart but really couldn't they have said- "Best Wishes on the occasion of your 70th- you old fart"?

It's not all been black and dreary news however.

I've had some happy septuagenarian news this week.

I was at the dentist.

Dr. Tom tells me I have 31 of my 32 teeth still in my head.

"That's remarkable"- he says, "The missing tooth is a wisdom tooth and you didn't need that one anyway."

Yes indeedy do, I still have three wisdom's and I'm thinking that's why I'm so damn intelligent at this stage of life.

Well, what  other explanation is there it?

ROBBLOG #886- Then I Saw Her Face

 

The "church" has been in the news of late- hasn't it?

What with the Catholics in shit with their residential schools and treatment of indigenous kids, to the Pope sitting on his gold throne refusing to recognize or at least ignoring the past and the need to say something.

Personally he could fart an apology and it would mean diddly-squat. Why people are expecting it or saying it's the right thing to do is beyond me. The sooner governments stop funding churches the better for all. Well, maybe not the churches...

Anyhoo, not to dwell on all things religious, I felt I needed to tell you of a remark made to The Mister and I earlier this week. There was a general discussion about something or other when the person who had the floor turned to us and said- "I know you're non-believers but I am going to tell you this story all the same." 

"Pardon me?"- I thought. "Non- Believer?"

I bit my tongue.

"Ouch!"

The teller of the tale commenced to tell us of a church-goer who was down on her luck. It seems a bunch of the flock from this particular church got together and prayed real hard. They clenched their fists and clasped their anus muscles very tightly praying with all their might. I used to clench my teeth when I was a church-boy back in the day. If I had of been a Catholic Lad, I would have been an altar boy- over 16 years of age, praying for extra attention at the end of mass- but that's just me.

Anyhoo, low and behold the angel of the Lord came down and gave the poor Christian Lady a bunch of money. 

That's right- a bunch of money!

I don't think she had references.

If it was that easy to become fluid, I would have been down on my knees a lot more than I was over the years and for a completely different reason too. I know one can make money from "old guys" by getting down on one's knees for the thing one gets down on one's knees for when one needs to make rent. I read it on the Internet...

However, simply wishing and hoping and praying for cash is a whole different aspect to getting down on one's knees. I never knew.

A reasonable facsimile of me sitting and thinking- only without the beard.

After being called a "Non Believer" I was taken aback.

I wanted to be able to have a snappy retort being the Humanist I am but nothing came. I thought about it for a couple of days.

Still nothing.

Damn looking back now, I should have prayed but to who?

I did get an answer eventually.

You see, the words "non believer" are nothing to do with me or The Mister and nothing we need to reply to. The words are part of being immersed in a Christian philosophy not part of an agnostic, atheist or Humanist's life. Christians just need to have a term for those that don't tow the line- besides words like sinners, the fallen and Satan's flock. 

So you see, I wasn't at a loss for a retort. I responded the way I should have by saying nothing.

As the Yorkshire Dales folk across the pond would say- "It's knowt to do with me."

I could have said "Duh" but I didn't.

I could have said "puh-hard-on me?" I did not.

I could have foamed at the mouth. Nope.

I might have called on Satan for help. Being that he's a fallen angel he'd have some measure of displeasure at the comment. Naddah

But, I didn't use any of the above.

I just sat there still as you like, smiling sweetly, sipping away at my morning coffee.

What a good boy am I!!