I LOVE SUMMER

I can’t believe it has been so long since I have written in my blog. Why is it the days and weeks pass by so quickly in the summer, while, in the winter months they just seem to drag on and on? We Canadians seem to spend 6 months of the year dreaming of summer, and then after it finally arrives, it’s gone in a flash! I suppose that’s why so many of us enjoy winter sports - if you are stuck with the snow, you might just as well go hurtling down a mountain at break-neck speed... or strap on a pair of skates and enough padding to rival the Michelin Man, then chase other like-minded individuals around an ice rink, while trying to get a small hard black object into a net that is guarded by the opposing team. I have done my share of skiing, never at high speed, and although I didn’t play ice hockey, I spent many winter hours in bone-chilling freezing arenas around Ontario watching my son play. Sigh..... I almost miss those days!

So far, this summer hasn’t been wonderful in terms of weather, much cooler than usual, and lots of rain, but still I love it. The precipitation is wet, not white, and I can go out without a sweater or closed shoes. I am not a gardener, but as I mentioned in my last post I love flowers and have planted about 70 containers that are scattered around our yard.

Last Sunday the weather gods were smiling down on us as we held a barbeque at our home, a casual get-together with friends whom we have known for many years. We all met over 30 years ago in Timmins Ontario where the climate was cold, but the people were warm and friendly. Most of us were implants from all over the world, and we made friendships that will last a lifetime.



The excuse for this party was so we all could visit with our friend Myrla was up from the Barbados visiting her daughters and their families. Since she had recently celebrated her 70th birthday we decided to make it a little birthday party, complete with cake and candles.


While the geezer was preparing a feast of beef, chicken, shrimp and vegie kabobs, some of us went swimming. And after dinner we all had to sample one of Denis' homemade chocolate eclairs.



It was a perfect day - just as everyone was preparing to leave, a light rain started to fall. I'm telling you, those weather gods had perfect timing!

Lost in Blogland..... and flowers, and soil, and knitting

I know, I know, if I have a blog I am supposed to be writing in it. So first thing today, which for me is usually at the crack of noon, I sat here and wrote a post. I even uploaded some pictures. then I decided to mess with the pictures, moving them around , trying to get them in the right place to go with my words. I wasn't happy with what it looked like, so went to the help site, messed around some more, and then POOF, my post was gone. I had saved it, but sure as hell couldn't find it again. So.... let me try this again.
I have been busy busy, doing this....
And lots more! I am not a gardener, never have been, but I must admit that I do enjoy planting flowers in containers, then scattering them around both the front and back of the house. I make a huge mess when I do this, and Ernie dutifully follows behind me and cleans up the mess. Something like in the house, only in reverse, and I am not so dutiful. I bitch and complain the whole time about what a slob he is..... and to be honest, sometimes I just live with the mess. What the hell is the point? It will be just as bad the next day!
My plan for today was to do something with all this...
I did quite well, though managed to plant only half of what you see. I planted eight window box planters which we put in front of the house on top of what used to be a flower bed. Neither of us are physically capable of grovelling around on our knees planting in the ground, and because the impatiens are in planters, they look so much better that they did in the ground. They cascade over the top of the boxes, and look really beautiful. I also planted four other containers to go under a tree in the back.

The other plan for today was to buy a new one of these...
That was because the cordless phone you see here ended up at the bottom of this...
The geezer insists that while his back was turned, the phone magically jumped into the pool and drowned. So I sent him off on a mission to buy a new phone. He came back with TWO - they were on sale don't you know! They are now charging as I write this.

In the evenings I have been knitting these for chemo patients..



Sometimes I think about what I have been doing lately and am amazed that a tomboyish, athletically inclined, domestically challenged, feminist, career minded, mother of two very independent young adults could find such pleasure from planting flowers and knitting.

Life is amazing!

A Luxurious Lou

We went to our friends’ home for dinner on Sunday. In the 11 or so years they have lived in their house, this couple has worked very hard undertaking some very major renovations, almost all of them by themselves. Their latest project, a complete gutting and renovating of their master bath has taken them many months of backbreaking labour They are understandably very proud of their new room, and so before dinner we all trudged upstairs to see their masterpiece.

The room was truly a spa-like retreat. We admired the beautiful tiles which are heated from below. The corner two-person spa tub ( well, two person for them - Ernie and I would have some trouble squeezing ourselves into it without feeling like a couple of sardines in a can) was gleaming and inviting. The large glassed shower stall had multiple shower heads and the granite countertop was beautiful.

Then we turned to look at La Piece de Resistance, THE THRONE. At first glance it looked like any other modern toilet, but there was a thin hose going into the back, it was plugged in to an electrical outlet, and on the wall there was a control panel that might confound the flight engineer on a jumbo jet. The toilet seat thermostatically controlled to provide a warm seat for a cold butt. Gives a whole new meaning to “Hot bootie”. The seat slides off easily so “you can take it with you.” Not sure where they plan to take it - maybe to the old folks home later on! On to the toilet itself - when you have completed your business, you can push a button and a little arm slides out from the back and sprays your butt. Then with a push of another button warm air blows upwards to dry the now clean bottom. The way I figure it, if they live to be 100, this techie toilet will pay for itself with savings in toilet paper.

The only thing left to do in this room is to install the sink. I have visions of a sink that turns the taps on by itself as soon as the toilet is flushed, and a booming voice descending from the ceiling commanding, “Make sure you wash your hands!”.

And so, some final thoughts......

tiles for floor, tub and shower - ? dollars
spa tub - ? dollars
glass shower - ? dollars
infloor heating - ? dollars
granite countertop - ? dollars
heated toilet seat - ? dollars
techie toilet - ? dollars

Having warm feet and a warm, squeaky clean and blow dried bottom - PRICELESS

Flipping the Bird

Ernie and I have been known to "flip the bird" at each other, but always in jest. I know that some people regard extending the middle finger as an obscene gesture, but we tend to do it when we are clowning around. What follows is a totally inaccurate account of the origins of this gesture. It has no historical validity whatsoever. I am sharing this story, only because I found it amusing.

Before the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, the French, anticipating victory over the English, proposed to cut off the middle finger of all captured English soldiers.

Without the middle finger it would be impossible to draw the renowned English longbow and therefore be incapable of fighting in the future. This famous weapon was made of the native English Yew tree, and the act of drawing the longbow was known as "plucking the yew" (or "pluck yew").

Much to the bewilderment of the French, the English won a major upset and began mocking the French by waving their middle fingers at the defeated French, saying, "See, we can still pluck yew! PLUCK YEW!" Over the years some 'folk etymologies' have grown up around this symbolic gesture.

Since 'pluck yew' is rather difficult to say (like "pleasant mother pheasant plucker," which is who you had to go to for the feathers used on the arrows for the longbow), the difficult consonant cluster at the beginning has gradually changed to a labiodental fricative 'F', and thus the words often used in conjunction with the one-finger-salute are mistakenly thought to have something to do with an intimate encounter.

It is also because of the pheasant feathers on the arrows that the symbolic gesture is known as "giving the bird". And yew all thought yew knew everything!

Old Men in Hats

I have casually mentioned to a few friends who like the stories I tell that perhaps I should start a blog to talk about my life with my dear husband of almost 38 years, Ernie. And so, my friend Suzan got up this morning and designed and formatted a blog page for me. I have no clue what I’m doing, but here is the story of how I came to name my blog “The Geezer and the Vintage Bitch”.

Ernie is not a patient man. His A type personality would often manifest itself when he was driving behind someone who was going under the speed limit, or not driving at a consistent speed. He finally declared to me one day, that the worst drivers on the road were old men who were wearing hats. “Those geezers should get off the road!” he would often exclaim. This was such a frequent situation over the years that even our children, at a young age, would pipe up from the back seat, “ That guy in front of you must be an old man in a hat!”

About a year ago, Ernie and I were driving home on a busy road during what passes for rush hour in our small town. Ernie was toodling along when I noticed that there was a long line of traffic behind us. I pointed that out to him and suggested that perhaps he should speed up. “Tough,” he responded, “I’m going the speed limit.”

“The speed limit is 80 Km/hour” I said, “and you are only going 60. He grunted something unintelligible, and I looked over at him, and there he was, driving, with baseball cap on his head. “Oh my God,” I screeched. “you have turned into an old man in a hat!!! I am married to a geezer!”

And Ernie whispered with an embarrassed smile on his face, “Bitch!”

And I thought, Bitch? I am over 60, I deserve more respect than that. Puleeeze! I am a vintage bitch!!