For the most part, I have dutifully restricted my cat ownership to a maximum of two at a time. Except for a time about twenty years ago, when I lived way downtown in Toronto. My house, in a “transitional” neighbourhood that stubbornly resisted transition, had a tiny backyard consisting of a deck surrounded by a […]
I never thought I would say this, but the outer-reaches of suburbia is the place to be during a pandemic because this place is a wasteland of human interaction. Oh wait, I stand corrected. Except for now. People I never, ever, ever, see on my street are suddenly in evidence, out walking with their various
Status Report 20200330 Read More »
I read to you today from this week’s Longo’s flyer. “Cashmere Select Bath Tissue, $6.99, save up to $5.50!” “You could find the cup to win one of three trips to the Stanley Cup Final! Purchase any one of Kruger paper products!” “Free Cineplex movie offer with purchase of General Mills family size cereal.” I
And Yet, They Persist Read More »
I always have flowers in my house. Or maybe not exactly always, but as close as I can get, given my current circumstances of living in suburbia. Apparently, suburbia does not believe in flowers. There are no fruit markets in suburbia, the places where I used to pick up some sunflowers or tulips when I
Send Me Dead Flowers Read More »
It’s pretty much business as usual around here, in the cozy bedrooms north of civilization. Which is to say, as usual, there is rampant inaccessibility, unavailability, and inedibility. Follow along with the bouncing ball, if you will. There is a bus that goes from Newmarket to the Toronto Yorkdale subway station and back. This bus
Suburban Status Report: 20191124 Read More »
Dear Mr. Rogers; No, not you with the cardigan and the movie with Tom Hanks. I’m talking to the telco Mr. Rogers, who I believe has unfortunately left his mortal coil, but whose name is on the eponymous telco. I vaguely remember that we may have had a relationship in the past, although if we
The Molloys were already ensconced in the house next door to us on Newton Crescent when we first arrived in Deep River in 1960. Inexplicably, since there was no lack of land to develop, we shared a double driveway and a semi-detached garage between our pre-fab bungalows, such that the middle wall bisected the official-unofficial
Weather: good, thank goodness. For the moment. Summer, don’t fail me now! Reason weather needed to be good: Lumber’s Island Labour day weekend party. Six Mile Lake island and island wanna be’s converged from far and wide. Nobody lost an eye, that I know of, even though we almost killed Lois with the nuts in
Cottage Status Report: 20190904 Read More »
I am a serial killer. The mangled bodies are lined up on the light summer cover that lies on top of my bed, leaving drops of blood where they put up a fight. The most annoying sound in the world is not a jackhammer crew at six in the morning or fingernails on a blackboard
Revenge of the Carnivores Read More »
I have a cat litter box at the cottage. Or actually, it’s worse than that. I have two cat litter boxes. I have two litter boxes because the best practice is one box per cat, presumably so each cat can have their own private commode. Except in my case, they choose to use one as
