Saturday, February 21, 2015

When Cartoons Dance

More from Harry


Wednesday, February 18, 2015

From Harry

Goldfish, Snow, and Christmas Trees

I spent the last two days sitting with the twins. My wife, GIC, (Grandma In Charge) had other things to do this week.

First I was just going to watch Maggie on Tuesday while Corbin was in his day program, but then he developed a fever and my daughter had to leave work and bring him home. So I got both of them. No problems except for the potty.

Grandpa – "Do you need to potty Maggie?"

Maggie doesn’t even look up from her iPad. "Oh no."

An hour later the diaper is visibly drooping. "I think you need to potty Maggie."

Maggie – "Nope. Don’t want to."

Finally – "Come on Maggie. Go sit on your potty."

Reluctantly Maggie sits on her potty while continuing to play on her tablet. She continues to sit for 30 minutes or more as I keep asking if she is done yet. Finally I pick her up and place her on the changing table and put on a dry diaper.

"You want to see Goldie now?"

Goldie is her new goldfish. Now the story goes that when my daughter goes shopping at the grocery store with Maggie they have been visiting the pet store next door. Maggie loves looking at the fish. The marriage started with two dogs and two cats in the family even before the twins arrived. My daughter had told her she would have to ask her father before another pet was added to the menagerie. A couple of weeks ago, as they were leaving the store, Maggie starts crying, "Mommy we’re leaving Goldie. We gotta go back and get Goldie." Before Mommy knew what happened, they were in the pet store and Maggie was pointing out Goldie to the lady who was trying to scoop the right fish out of the tank.

Back. Did you miss me? I was only gone three days. Life has been busy here.

Sunday night we tried something different. My son currently works at our favorite Irish pub. The pub is trying to bring in more business on Sundays so they started a cabaret program. The first offering was Secret Agent Galactica, a cross-dressing blues singer, who spices up ‘her’ act with stories of space and time travel. We thoroughly enjoyed the evening. Jayne had fish and chips and I had bangers and mash. We laughed and clapped, and drank good beer. Maybe too much beer. Galactica was starting to look good to me by the end of the night.

Yesterday we got ready for our big snowstorm. We brought our kerosene heater into the house along with a can of fuel. Firewood was loaded into the fireplace. All of this was just in case we lost electricity and had to keep the house warm. Of course, having done that, we never lost power. Snow started just after midday and fell throughout the evening. We got around 8 inches, which is a heavy snow for Richmond.

Back again. Another day has passed.

Because of the snow Jayne didn’t need to babysit the twins this morning so she gave up on trying to get me to take down the decorations on the Christmas tree. She let me know that I could now take off the lights and disassemble it and box it up.

I had planned to hang flags on it for the 4th of July, but I guess that’s not going to happen now.

So how was your week?

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Bahh Humbug

A man takes the day off work and decides to go out golfing. He is on the second hole when he notices a billy goat standing next to the green. He thinks nothing of it and is about to shoot when he hears, "Baahh. 9  Iron"

The man looks around and doesn't see anyone. " Baahh. 9 Iron." He looks at the billy goat and decides to prove him wrong, puts his other club away, and grabs a 9 iron. Boom! He hits it 10 inches from the cup. He is shocked.

He says to the billy goat, "Wow that's amazing. You must be a lucky goat, eh?"

The billy goat reply's " Baahh. Lucky goat."

The man decides to take the billy goat with him to the next hole. "What do you think goat?" the man asks.

"Baahh. 3 wood."

The guy takes out a 3 wood and Boom! Hole in one. The man is befuddled  and doesn't know what to say. By the end of the day, the man golfed the best game of golf in his life and asks the billy goat, "OK where to next?"

The billy goat reply, " Baahh. Las Vegas."

So, they go to "Las Vegas and the guy says, "OK goat, now what?"

The billy goat says, " Baahh. Roulette."

Upon approaching the roulette table, the man asks, " What do you think I should bet?"

The billy goat  replies, " Baahh. $3000,black 6."

Now, this is a million to one shot to win, but after the golf game, the man figures what the heck. Boom! Tons of cash comes sliding back across the table.

The man takes his winnings and buys the best room in the hotel. Once in the hotel room the man says "Goat, I don't know how to repay you. You've won me all this money and I am forever grateful." "Just name it and it is yours."

The billy goat replies, " Baaah, Kiss Me."

He figures why not, since after all the goat did for him, he deserves it. With a kiss, the billy goat turns into a gorgeous 15-year-old girl.

".... And that, your honor, is how the girl ended up in my room."


Not Super: 4.38. But fun ...

Click to Mix and Solve

Old Glory

These were  hard to photograph. I don't take good photos anyway, but these are framed behind glass. They're my Grandfather's shooting medals from the late 1940s and early 1950s.


From O. Reader


TIME FOR A CHANGE [If i were in the re-titeling mood, I'd call this The Agony and the ... Agony - Pixie] 

Mrs O suddenly decided that she wanted the bedroom furniture changed around. She insisted that it wasn’t “suddenly” – she’s been suggesting it for years but I don’t listen. So this last weekend, we risked life and limb to put the bed against another wall, and played musical furniture with the rest of the room.

I am now sleeping facing due south rather than due north, and although I get suspicious of words like Feng Shui I still feel the need for an orienteering course. At the moment, if I climb out of bed in the night, I run the risk of going on automatic pilot and heading straight out of the bedroom window...

The immediate problem was all the wardrobes and cupboards. They were all now the wrong side of the room for each of us. Just trying to get some clothes to put on in the mornings we would collide. So everything had to be emptied out and changed over.

It’s amazing just what we have found there – stuff that has been lurking for goodness knows how many years. Family history files going back decades. I’d wondered where some of those things had gone. Hidden behind my shoes apparently. Then more photos and stuff that we always meant to sort out, but never did. Nearly all of it can probably be binned, because we have it in electronic format – trouble is, we still have to check through it all just in case. Oh well – maybe next year.

Then my jars for collecting spare change. I did a post a couple of years ago on that, and Mrs O is still horrified to find how much cash in coinage I’m salting away. I repeat that any thief trying to make off with it all would give themselves a hernia, but it doesn’t seem to reassure her.

Then there is a collection of old suits that have magically shrunk. Neckties that others say I shouldn’t be seen dead in – but maybe they will come around again. If you wait long enough, things do come back. Trouble is, there is always some slight variation to show that what you have dug out of mothballs is – as we put it here – naff!

Games – from the days when we used to play board games, before TVs and computers and tablets took over. We still dig out the Trivial Pursuit on vacation and if feeling erudite, Scrabble. The rest could go to the charity shop.

Podiatry supplies that I lost and then expensively replaced have now re-seen the light of day. Sadly some have dates on them that are long extinct.

Then there is re-fixing the wiring – aerials and electrical wires – that sort of thing. At the present time, until I can burrow behind the wardrobes - which are so firmly fixed, if the house fell down they would probably still remain - there are interesting trails of wire and flex and stuff all over the floor. So if I don’t get out of bed and fall out of the window, I still run a severe risk of tripping and damaging assorted fixtures with my head.

They say the most dangerous place on earth is your home. You wake up in the morning feeling happy and relaxed and secure, and venture forth into an environment desired to trip you up, or cut you up, or blow you up. I can narrow that down a bit – the most dangerous place on earth at the moment is our bedroom.

And the lighting. Oh please, don’t get me started on the lighting!

Personally I could have lived on happy and oblivious in the old bedroom. I have been assured though that I am very fortunate. It’s not a complete refurb – it hasn’t really cost us any money – in spite of everything it’s the same bed, the same cupboards, the same wardrobes, and the same collection of stuff for which a room three times the size could still be insufficient. It’s just all - rearranged...

But that’s not the end of it. Now I am being vigorously encouraged to think of repapering the parts of walls that have been revealed after aeons of camouflage. The words of an old music hall song come wafting back through the ages:

When Father papered the parlour, you couldn't see pa for paste
Dabbing it here, dabbing it there, paste and paper everywhere
Mother was stuck to the ceiling; the kids were stuck to the floor
I never knew a blooming family so stuck up before.

Beam me up Scotty.

Friday, February 13, 2015

Stampy Stuff

            I’ve been playing with two old stamp albums. One was given to me and the other I bought for ten dollars in a junk shop. They’re sparsely filled; most of the stamps are on the cheap side. Some are junky and damaged. But there are scattered gems.
            I have a nearly complete Bavaria collection if you just consider major types. Most American collectors ignore all the varieties. Lately, I’ve been looking for them. Some are very rare – high priced in the various European catalogs – but mostly ignored by the Scott Standard. I pulled all the Bavaria officials from the two albums, sorting them by Michel (A catalog published in Germany) listed shades and varieties. Two of them are really pricy. This is fun. Treasure in a box of neglected stamp albums.
            I am combining everything that I don’t need into the best album which I will give away when I’m finished. It will give one of my friends who collects a fun album of pre-1935 stamps.

            Collecting varieties brings its own problems. Sometimes a difference is obvious, but identifying which variety it is becomes difficult. It’s fun anyway. I work on it in ten minute spurts, using the time I devote to it as a break from more tedious things. Below is a photo of the Bavarian official stamps. I’m not certain you can see the difference in colors.


Thursday, February 12, 2015

Frustrated!

Times New Roman font is broken. I've done the windows fix and a fresh install of Word. It is still fuzzy on my screen, barely readable. It's just as bad in WordPerfect. None of the other fonts seem to be affected, just TNR. It prints just fine.

I'm an unhappy pixie. Any ideas?

Out to Pasture

A group of Texas tourists were on a bus tour of France when they came upon the town of Sancerre in the Loire Valley.

They eventually stopped at the little village of Chavignol and visited a cheese farm where the world famous 'Crottin de Chavignol' goat's cheese is made; their guide, who was the farmer's wife, led them through a process of cheese making, explaining how goat's milk was used.

Madame showed the group a picturesque hillside where many goats were grazing. These, she explained, were the older goats put out to pasture when they no longer produced. Madame then asked, turning to the group, 'What do you do in Texas with your old goats that aren't producing?'

One spry and very quick elderly gentleman answered, 'They send us on bus tours.'

Drinkin' Buddies

A man and his pet goat walk into a bar. It's about 5pm, but they're ready for a good night of drinking.

They start off slowly, watching TV, drinking beer, eating peanuts. As the night goes on they move to mixed drinks, and then shooters, one after the other.

Finally, the bartender says: "Last call."

So, the man says, "One more for me... and one more for my goat."

The bartender sets them up and they shoot them back. Suddenly, the goat falls over dead.

The man throws some money on the bar, puts on his coat and starts to leave.

The bartender, yells: "Hey buddy, you can't just leave that lyin' there."

To which the man replies: "That's not a lion, that's a goat."

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Knicknacks


... oh ... and books. Many of these are signed


Monday, February 09, 2015

The New Bookshelves

Okay, so I don't take good photos. But ... here are the new booksleves, about half organized. The shelf on the left has on the top shelf leather-bound classics; the rest is history. The shelf on the right has history on the top shelf, and the rest are all childrens' and young adult books.



My work table ... when no one's watching but me ....

Tuesday, February 03, 2015

From Harry

I should be feeling good today. The Patriots managed to make an interception in the last minute of the game to maintain their lead and win the Super Bowl, (Pixie says, "Who cares?") but today is Groundhog’s Day and I woke up with the stomach flu. My wife and I were going to take the twins to the Children’s Museum, but by the time we got to their house I collapsed in a chair and pulled a blanket over me. That wasn’t all I did, but you don’t need the gruesome details.

Why did it matter that today is Groundhog’s Day? Simple, it’s my Mom’s birthday. I would feel crappy today without the flu. I miss her so much today. We used to joke about whether she would go out and see her shadow and how long winter would last. There are two other birthdays in February, mine and my daughter. We would just have one big dinner during the month to celebrate all three birthdays, but it was always Mom’s choice of which restaurant.