Friday, April 29, 2016

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

The Second Day of Spring My True Love Gave To Me...

Six inches of snow and open water on Pushaw Lake. An odd combination, to say the least. Ice went out a week ago, Sunday. That's a week before Spring and just maybe the earliest date in living memory. The gravel roads are a tiresome slog of mud. Got stuck last night when we turned in off the paved road and I parked to get the mail. Tires were warm from the pavement, snow was unplowed and that makes for a very slick combo. SWMBO had to get out a fish out the shovel and dig out a path for the rear dualies to follow onto the packed down snow of previous travelers. Since heart attack, shoveling is on my "Forbidden List" so she gets that nasty chore. 

SWMBO snapped the following from inside the cab of the truck while I was turning off the generator before going in to town. Happy Spring 2016, y'all.

Ayep, that's open water beyond the snow!

Monday, February 08, 2016

Didn't Go ...

Yeah, we're still alive. Just nothing good to write about. Maybe soon. Likely not.

Weather - Jack Frost is adding injury to insult with another 6 - 12 inches of snow forecast for this afternoon through tomorrow, 20 to 30 MPH winds from the NE so downed trees and the like a real possibility as that isn't a usual wind direction for us. All on top of the 12" we got three days ago. And I swore to all deities above and below I'd never spend another winter in Maine. A fat lot of good that did me. 

It's danged cold in this trailer and we haven't any option but to sit it out until Spring. Ground never froze hard before snows came, so moving the trailer is out of the question as my 2wd truck would sink out of sight. I look at the weather in Texas (Port O'Conner) and Louisiana (Baton Rouge) and just want to cry.

Health has been the bugaboo for me and the missus since summer. Oh joy, now I have medicare, so medicos are up to old tricks of testing, poking and prodding. Going under for a colonoscopy in mid-March. I do hate the prep for that test. The test itself is undignified but anticlimactic. All the real fun occurs in the 36 hours prior to insertion of the camera in the bung hole. SWMBO has had a chest infection that refuses to quit. Her FNP is the laid back, "let's wait and see" type. Not a good fit, but no alternative exists at present.

Iggy has decided that the floor is too cold so he only stands on it to eat or go outside to do the necessary. The rest of his time is spent next to SWMBO on the sofa, on my lap (ouch - he's topping 48 pounds these days) or in bed when we are asleep. Really hates the snow - has taken to going under the trailer for squatting so snow isn't tickling his butt.

Miss you all, family, friends, and blog readers. Often in our thoughts, but no phone and only what internet I can steal from neighbors limits contact. So be good. If I don't pop in with an update by June, email your complaints and concerns. Who knows. I might even reply!

And So It Goes...


Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Urge For Going

Darkness prevails, despite the passage of sunrise, the clouds so thick the rose rays of dawn find no breaks in the cover. Rain pelts steadily on the hatch cover echoing loudly down the vent plenum, thudding softer across the trailer roof. The autumn monsoon has begun.

Waterfowl seasons began at dawn, yesterday. SWMBO was vocally unhappy about the twenty-one shotgun salute around us as eager Nimrods blasted the ducks to smithereens in the cove. Not the case today. The weather and bombardments have driven the local quackers to seek safer, more sheltered quarters. So far, knock wood, the hunters have chosen to stay in bed this morning. Time will tell if it's warm blankets or the wet darkness that holds them in abeyance.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Tuesday, July 07, 2015

Update: Family Says News Misrepresent The Facts

The family of the dead SFB fellow who blew his mind with a fireworks mortar either did it accidentally by a stray spark or thought the mortar was a dud - see follow-up story here:

The unexpected death of a family member is a staggering emotional upset. My condolences to the family and friends. But the young man in question was an adult, possibly drinking and responsible for his actions. There are no do-overs in real life and his death is a vivid reminder of this fact. Fireworks are no different than a loaded gun, often containing hundreds of times the amount of black powder that a round of ammunition contains. They must be treated with the same respect and caution. There is no argument that Devon failed to exercise the appropriate amount of caution.

Sunday, July 05, 2015

Newest Addition To The List

Sadly, I must report this newest addition to the infamous "Darwin List", to wit:

Calais man killed after igniting firework on his head

By Nick Sambides Jr., BDN Staff
July 05, 2015, at 10:24 a.m.
CALAIS, Maine — A local man was killed instantly Saturday when he set off a fireworks mortar tube on his head, despite efforts his friends made to stop him, state police said Sunday.

I guess you just can't teach common sense to some people.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

We'll be seeing you in all the familiar places...

It is with great sadness that we mark the passing of our neighbor of thirty eight years, Barbara McGowen. We were truly blessed when she moved into the ville.

Wednesday, April 01, 2015

Happy April Fools

Sixteen years ago today, on a balmy spring morning as forsythias set buds and newly emerged grass greened the ugly gray of the more typical Maine early spring, a small gathering of folks at Cascade Park's gazebo looked out over the wreckage of the old Bangor Hydro-Electric flume stocks. The couple standing in the former home of the Bangor Souza Band joined fingers and lives.
It pleases me to remember that day, the celebratory meal at Paul's Restaurant and Speakeasy, and the honeymoon siesta that followed. 

Here's hope there are another sixteen in me, m'dear.

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Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Johnny Jump Up

Now THAT'S what I call Wearing Of The Green!

It's Saint Patrick's Day here in the United States. Unlike the Emerald Isle, the snakes are out in full force and I worry each and every time I let the dog out. It's also traditional here to drink oneself silly on this day. AN activity I may no longer participate in as the consequences are dire. Where normal folk eventually conclude they have had enough, I can only say, "Another round, barkeep." Even if I've fallen off my barstool a half dozen times already. Then there is the pugilism streak. Like all small men, I think I'm indefeatable when I have a quart of whiskey in me. And Lord help us all if it's been hard cider, AKA "Johnny Jump Up" that I've been drinking -- then I want to take on the whole bar. Only Tequila makes me meaner. But let's just enjoy the lyrics to the traditional humorous poke at ourselves the Irish call "Johnny Jump Up"

Johnny Jump Up

I'll tell you a story that happened to me

One day as I went down to Cork by the sea
The sun it was hot and the day it was warm,
Says I a quiet pint wouldn't do me no harm

I went in and I called for a bottle of stout

Says the barman, I'm sorry, all the beer is sold out
Try whiskey or paddy, ten years in the wood
Says I, I'll try cider, I've heard it was good.

Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again

If I live to be a hundred or a hundred and ten
I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up
After drinking a quart of the Johnny Jump Up
After downing the third I went out to the yard

Where I bumped into Brody, the big civic guard
Come here to me boy, don't you know I'm the law?
Well, I up with me fist and I shattered his jaw

He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up

But it wasn't I hit him, 'twas Johnny Jump Up
The next thing I remember down in Cork by the sea
Was a cripple on crutches and says he to me

I'm afraid of me life I'll be hit by a car

Won't you help me across to the Celtic Knot Bar?
After downing a quart of that cider so sweet
He threw down his crutches and danced on his feet

I went up the lee road, a friend for to see

They call it the madhouse in Cork by the Sea
Butl when I got there, sure the truth I will tell,
They had this poor bugger locked up in a cell

Said the guard, testing him, say these words if you can,

"Around the rugged rock the ragged rascal ran"
Tell him I'm not crazy, tell him I'm not mad
It was only a sip of the bottle I had

Well, a man died in the mines by the name of McNabb

They washed him and laid him outside on the slab
And after the parlors measurements did take
His wife brought him home to a bloody fine wake

Twas about 12 o'clock and the beer was high

The corpse sits up and says with a sigh
I can't get to heaven, they won't let me up
Til I bring them a quart of the Johnny Jump Up

So if ever you go down to Cork by the sea

Stay out of the ale house and take it from me
If you want to stay sane don't you dare take a sup
Of that devil drink cider called Johnny Jump Up

Have a Good Day and don't be drinking any of the 'Johnny Jump Up' me boy-o's.