Cut the Grass

    I cut the lawn yesterday, the second time this year. That's pretty sad with June a couple of days away. But it rained almost every day, and on the other days it was too wet. I just did the front lawn. Had to put the bag on for the grass. Don't want a mess out front. It takes time to drag that bag back and forth. The grass was quite long, so it took a number of trips. After that, it was the whipper-snipper. It's the same one I bought in 74. You would think it would have packed it in by now.

Sunday Mass

    Our church has two levels of seating, upper and lower. The back level has a railing in front, about five feet high. This guy I've named 'The Confessor', sits in the back level, center section, front seat, right end. Every so often a man comes along the railing and stops in front of him. 'The Confessor' jumps up (he's about 65 yrs. old and overweight) and waddles to the railing, gets down on one knee and bends his ear to the other man. After a few minutes, the other man leaves, and 'The Confessor' returns to his seat. Then, another man will come along - same thing - this happens three or four times while I am there - I don't know if it happens before I arrive. I think he always comes early to make sure he gets his seat. I saw a woman stop once, but he remained seated and spoke from there.
    When it comes time for communion, it is all done in an orderly fashion. The lower level goes first, then the upper, section by section. But he doesn't wait his turn. As soon as the lower level is done - he is gone like a flash, and that's the last I see of him.
    At first I thought he was like the Protestants, and got raptured, because when I return from communion, there are people around me who have disappeared. But then I would see him next week. Then I thought he was raptured on Sunday, but on Monday God saw that he wasn't Protestant and sent him back.

The Truck

    The other day my neighbor went on vacation for two weeks and he gave me the keys to his truck. Great, I thought, I have some yard work to do. So he hands me the keys and says, " Don't worry about the red and orange lights, I have them all disconnected." So. I have to disregard all alarms. As he is leaving, he turns and says, " Don't go too far, it's almost out of gas." I guess that alarm still works.  Bet there is just enough gas to get me to the gas station.

Rubber Hose

    I went to see a friend of mine last week. He lives around the corner. The first thing he said was that his garden hose blew up. I couldn't get my head around that. He said, "yeah. it blew up." Then he explained to me that it was one of those hoses you see on T.V. The one that grows when you put the water in, then shrinks when the water runs out.
    He took me to have a look at it. There it was, a long snake with the side blown out. What it is, is a wire mesh that expands, and inside is a hose like a balloon. Not he thickness of an inner tube, but the thickness of a balloon. A spot on the wire mesh had broken so that the balloon made a bubble at that spot. It kept growing, and then 'Boom,' water everywhere. And that's the saga of the hose that blew up.

Pens and Pencils

    Yesterday we went to a 'Caregivers Luncheon' on the other side of Halifax. It was very 'poo poo,' china cups and all. I remembered to keep my pinkie up when I drank my cup of tea. There was the Master of Ceremonies and three other speakers. Each one of them started their speech by apologizing  for someone senior to them who was unable to make it. It seems they were out saving the world or something, and they found this out just an hour before the luncheon. Personally, I would rather have not known about it. Besides, I've watched the English version of 'House of Cards', I know what all that means.
    The guy next to me was a social worker, and wouldn't you know it, he was from my hometown. I left there 53 years ago, but still they find me. It's like I have a sign on my forehead, 'I'm one of the bye's from home, eh.'
    He was a great conversationalist. He told me about his tattoos and I told him that one of the nurses that came with me had a tattoo on her behind. She had a hand tattooed to each cheek, and when she walked, it looked like the hands were clapping.
    Everyone at the table had their veggies and dip and pieces of fruit. I ate two giant cookies.
    The best part was that I got a free pencil. I love pencils and pens and scrap envelopes to scribble on. Junk mail finds a home here, well, just the envelope. A few years ago, my brother Tony gave me a nice pen. He found it in a jewelry store where someone had it engraved, but didn't pick it up. It said 'Tammy, R.N.' On my last overnight visit to the hospital, one of my nurses was named Tammy. I kept the pen out of sight.
    That's enough for now, I have to go and sharpen my new pencil.

Compost

    The area behind my shed is where I do my composting. It's kind of a dangerous spot in the winter, tree roots, holes, uneven, ice, etc.. Last week I decided it was time for a move to the side of the shed where it's easy to get at. First, I built a 4' x 2" wooden container. The one in the back is falling apart. I've had it for a number of years. I sifted the compost from there, filling two garbage cans. My wife will use that for the flower boxes. The container is still half full, so I'll just throw the rest in the gardens.
    A friend of ours gave me a square black composter she didn't want. She said to just come and get it, which was easier said than done. They hadn't used it for five years and it had about a foot of compost inside. Roots had taken it over. I had to rip it all apart.
    When I had it all back together, I put it beside the wooden bin. I have a similar composter, which I put next to that. Each spring, I move all the compost from one bin to the next one. So it takes two years to get compost.
   I talk like I've done all that, but I'm only half finished. Have to work on non-rain days. Did some yesterday, but it started to rain. Can't do much today, I have to go to a "Caregivers Luncheon." Not my thing, but it is what it is. (I seem to be saying that a lot lately.)

Hearing Test.

   

    Well, I went for a hearing test yesterday. I have to tell you how that all started. I have a 41 yr. old daughter with C.P., who is bedridden and has to be fed by a tube. When the machine is finished, it gives off a beeping tone. So therein lies the problem, I don't hear the tone.
    It just so happens that a flyer came around offering free hearing tests so I made an appointment. The test told us that I have no problem hearing voices, in fact it is above normal. The problem is that I can't hear high frequencies. The clinic thought that I could get along without a hearing aid at this time. The price of $2700. confirmed that, as far as I was concerned. Of course, they still tried to sell me one.