Thursday, 28 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 28: Is That All?

Ziva and Nicky in happier times.

She stumbled out of the door into the darkness. The sun had been shining when she'd arrived, alone and sober at Cheesy Mike's Bar and Baguettery. Her friend and room mate Ziva had told her to hold on that she'd come with her. But she couldn't wait. And the next thing Ziva knew she was gone. "Damn" said Ziva, "This certainly puts a strain on our friendship. I hope it wasn't something I said. However, when Nicky said 'You better put out some hors d'oeuvres' for our little soiree this evening' I just felt she was ordering me around."

And so Nicky retreated to her favourite little haven, the CMB&B where she and Zee would often meet after work to down a few cold ones. But it wasn't long before she felt remorseful at how she had acted and began texting her pal in French. Of course, she'd had a few Molson X's by now and forgot Ziva didn't understand the language of love. After 15 minutes poor Ziva couldn't make head nor tail of the message and in a fit of pique called M, who would be the mayor of Turku Finland if only Turku had a mayor, to see if he might know what dear Nicky was attempting to say.

M recommended Ziva take a road trip to CMB&Bs and try to patch things up. "After all" he said "You don't want this to end up as if it's the day you met Abraham Lincoln who invites you to sit next to him at a play."

So Ziva hopped in a cab and in an unintended manner spoke aloud to the cabbie "Do you know where I can get a good blintz or else some music from the 80s? Nicky loves music from the 80s." To which the cabbie replied "Whatever, dude" and started humming Bye Bye Mon Cowboy by that little honey who was so popular in the 80s, Mitsou.

"Thank God" thought Ziva, as the cab pulled up to CMB&B "We're finally at Nicky's home away from home and I don't have to listen to that infernal humming."

As she exited the cab Ziva in her haste lost a shoe. "Oh they're just little things" she said as she removed the other shoe.

But Nicky was gone. According to Cheesy Mike, the bartender of the establishment which coincidentally bore his name, she'd staggered the few blocks to the railway station - "Which was a sight to see in those stilettos of hers" commented Mike without being asked - where she'd caught the last train to Laval-ville.

Compulsively, as she returned to her waiting cab, Ziva did what some might consider an absurd thing. She asked the cabbie what his name was. "Je suis Confucius" said the French-speaking Asian immigrant who had been a Chinese philosopher before arriving in Canada but took a job driving a cab because it was what he lived for not because it was the only job available to him.

"Ha" retorted Ziva. "I don't know if that's fact or fiction?" and gave him a huge tip: "Ecoute, la. Don't invest in Blackberry. It sucks." More importantly, however, Ziva realized she should be more concerned about the future of her relationship with Nicky. "You have to deal with it" said Confucius philosophically.

So Zee stumbled across the threshold and into Cheesy Mike's Bar and Baguettery. "Fill 'em up Joe" she said to Cheesy Mike, who's name coincidentally adorned the sign outside. "And that's why I got drunk" she said to me in the retelling of the story.

"Is that all?" I inquired, even though she had not indicated whether or not she and Nicky were back together, maybe working out at a Las Vegas gym in stilettos.

A look passed between us and we said simultaneously: "Oh, good God in heaven I certainly hope so!"

To really determine if that is all, pick up your bottle and stumble over to We Work at Cheesy Mike's Bar and Baguettery where the drinks are on Ziva and Nicky, literally if we go by that picture above. And, yes, I did use all 28 prompts - count 'em, in this story. If I'd known it could be this easy I would have done this on day one.

Wednesday, 27 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 27: And That's Why I Got Drunk

I thought today was Day 28 of 30 Days of Writing II minus 2.

But Nicky told me we still have another day to go.

And that's why I got drunk.

Really? The saying isn't "I can drink you under the bench"?

Weave your way over to We Drink for Cheese and see what everybody else's excuse is.

Tuesday, 26 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 26: Deal With It

Okay, the younger and more with it (do they still say that?) among you may know that "deal with it" is an internet meme. Or I should say "was" an internet meme from a few years back.

The expression itself is not very polite but a curt response to someone who questions a certain activity in which he or she is being forced to participate. The expression, coupled with a gif (look it up) of dropping sunglasses (hell, I don't know why) became the most popular meme on the internet around 2010.

Now, I must have been doing my Rip Van Winkle thing because I seem to have missed this entirely. Heck, I've only just clued in to gangnam style only to learn it's been superseded by something called the Harlem Shake.

I don't know about you, but I've been doing part of that dance for years. Had three children doing it. Everything old is new again!

So what's next?

Seal With It - a meme with a black singer formerly married to Heidi Klum

Meal With It - first date, followed by sex

Let' s Make A Deal With It - they're changing the name of Wayne Brady's show because Monty Hall isn't happy (OMG he's still alive. Wikipedia says he's 91!)

Feel With It - close your eyes and stick your hand out. Trust me.

Heal With It - one of the many phrases used by the Jehovah's Witnesses after they ring your doorbell.

Kneel With It - see above

Peel With It - name of a strip bar in Montreal frequented by Cheesy Mike - before the Jehovah's Witnesses ring his doorbell

Reel With It - new fishing show on the Outdoor Network

Wheel With It - new drag racing competition

Zeal With It - latest line of energy drinks

So what do you think?

Any of these new memes have any kind of appeal with it?

Today I'm ordering you on over to We Meme For Cheese where Nicky and Mike are responsible for today's prompt. Not happy? Deal with it!

Monday, 25 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 25: Fact or Fiction

Picture this.

It's October 30, 1938.

You've just finished dinner, cleared the table and helped mom do the dishes. The pots and pans are left for later because the clock in the kitchen indicates it's time for the family's favourite CBS radio program.

Dad switches the radio on, tunes in the station, and everyone sits back in anticipation of what's to come.

But as the show begins it is interrupted by a news bulletin. Are your ears playing tricks? The newscaster is trying to maintain his composure as he relays developments associated with alien spaceships hovering over the Earth. This can't be. But they're interviewing eye-witnesses. Wait, a spaceship has landed. My God a heat ray as incinerated the nearby crowd.

Fact or fiction?

Well, it really did happen. The radio broadcast, that is, not the alien invasion. It was a radio play performed by the Mercury Theatre Players, produced and narrated by Orson Welles, based on the science-fiction tale War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells.

Talk of your practical jokes, this was the ultimate.

The radio play was so believable many listeners actually thought Martians were invading earth. Only at the very end of the broadcast did Wells break character and advise listeners that their performance had been a Halloween concoction the equivalent of, as he put it, "dressing up in a sheet, jumping out of a bush and saying boo."

Sure, and he had half the northeastern United States and parts of Canada in an uproar. Some people fled their homes in panic.

When I think of Fact or Fiction this is what I think of because listeners at the time really had no idea.

The latest movie treatment of War of the Worlds - the one with Tom Cruise - was pretty good, despite Tom Cruise. But as the following trailer from the first version in 1953 indicates it was - in a tribute to Nicky and Mike - pretty cheesy.

Warp on over to We Work for Wells and see how the rest of our alien friends handled the prompt today. I don't think there's any cause for panic.

Sunday, 24 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 24: Confucius

Okay, I admit it. I'm not perfect. Hard to believe, I know. Many of you may have thought so. You may think I lead the perfect life, am happily married, very content with everything I have. But I must admit that there are times I need help. Some direction. Answers to the many questions I have about love, life and whether I should drop off and see Nicky next time I'm in Montreal. Sad for me to have to say all this and I hope I haven't let you down.

What's my secret? How have I been able to fool you for so long? Well, if you promise not to tell anyone, I'll let you in on a little ssomething. I am a devotee of Confucianism.

Confused? Allow me to illucidate. "Can he do that without drugs?" you may well ask. Well, we're about to find out.

At least once a day I zone out. My wife thinks it's when she's talking to me but not true. I meditate. Yep. I sit cross-legged on the floor and am transported to another place for an hour. It'd be about half that time if I was able to untangle my legs sooner. The place I am transported to is an audience with that great Chinese philosopher and "Model Teacher For Ten Thousand Ages", Confucius.

A typical conversation might go a little like this:

NND: Oh wise Confucius thank you once again for allowing me the honour of being in your presence.

C: You brought presents?

After all these year Confucius is a little hard of hearing.

NND: Confucius, I am so confused by a number of things. For example, my dog is always chasing behind cars.

C: Dog who always chase behind cars soon to be exhausted.

NND: Good one Mr. C. What do you know about affairs of the heart?

C: Man who fight with wife during day get no piece at night.

NND: I'll keep that in mind. Do you watch baseball?

C: Baseball is silly. Man with four balls cannot walk!

NND: Um, okay. Listen, I'm thinking of doing some renovations; adding more windows. Mrs D wants more light in the house. What do you think?

C: Man who lives in glass house should change clothes in the basement.

NND: On another subject, my friend Ziva is a terrific writer and has a great memory. But her friend Nicky is kind of scattered and can be so forgetful. Why are people so different sometimes?

C: Everyone have photographic memory. Maybe Nicky just doesn't have film.

NND: Could you explain that popular saying a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush?

C: A bird in hand make it hard to blow nose.

NND: Okay, I'll remember that. Listen Mr. C, our session is almost up. What piece of advice can you leave me with knowing life has it's up and downs, not unlike an elevator? Gee, I'm starting to talk like you.

C: Crowded elevator smell very different to midget.

Confucius say link up with Nicky and Mike at We Work For Man Who Eat Photo of Dad Often Spitting Image of Father and check out what else Confucius say.

Saturday, 23 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 23: Absurd

On the highest branch of a barren tree, high upon a rock-strewn mountain I sat taking in the view below. I had retreated to my perilous perch after having waged a weary battle with the inhabitants of the village below. Many of their bodies now lay strewn throughout the muddy streets where, not more than twenty minutes ago their blood curdling screams filled the air in an attempt to first frighten, then, slay me. But their efforts were all for naught. And now their bodies and abodes lay smouldering, smoke wafting gently in the soft blowing breeze.

I don't know for certain what possessed them to turn as they did upon me. I was only seeking sustenance after my long and laborious flight from a similar village many miles away. And in that village, as with countless cities and towns before it, their townspeople turned in tyrannous fashion against me.

It wasn't always like this. Many moons ago the humans that walked upon the earth worshiped me, my large leathery body, my wondrous and majestic magenta wings, my gravity defying deftness and of all things my burning breath.

However, one day as I soared in a circular fashion in the bight blue and cloudless sky voices from below and above called to me.

The sound was relentless and hasty insults were hurled at me that carried capriciously in the wistful wind. The words were hurtful; they stung me like nothing before. And they made fun of my faceless visage.

Let me tell you, if you'd blown fire every day for forty years your face would be a little worse for wear too.

And I'd blown some serious fire over the years. Not merely smoke like some precocious pretenders have done that some may have read about over the last twenty-three days.

Often times I've had to fight with flames to defend myself against large winged creatures hell bent on poking out my eyes. Charred cheeks is the price one pays for a dragon defending itself.

And it was an accident that I set that village on fire many, many years ago while I was toasting a flock of pheasants who had come after me with their eyes on the prize, their talons attempting to tear out my  pupils.

Alas, now my reputation precedes me everywhere I go. I was only protecting my eyes from those blasted birds in that fateful fight. Maybe things would have been different had I worn protective eyewear.

Instead, though, I made a spectacle of myself.

And if you think this tale is absurd wait until you get a whiff of the rest of the stories accessible via We Work For Dragons. My apologies to MikeWJ who, while he does blow smoke from time to time, really isn't a precocious pretender. And my apologies to Nicky. Just because.

Friday, 22 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 22: Compulsively

I feel sorry for people who act compulsively. For some it's minor actions that often result in humorous situations. But in other cases it's an uncontrollable disorder.

Have you ever seen that reality show Hoarders? Oh my God those people have problems. The subjects of this show have bought and collected so many things there's hardly room for them to live in their houses. Not only is a disposal expert and crew engaged to clean up the house but a psychiatrist is brought in to help the hoarder and their family through the exercise of getting rid of these articles. In many cases, the local government has condemned the house and refuses to lift the ordinance until the house is cleaned up.

And although these folks live in filth and squalor and have collected so much they can't even find their own bed in their house most of these people go through severe mental aguish in deciding what to part with.

I don't watch this show on a regular basis, not compulsively, but when I do I just shake my head.

I suppose my compulsive behaviour, although certainly not on a level like Hoarders, when it comes to collecting things is buying books and CDs. I read about 4 or 5 books a month and I'll buy either the hardcover or the e-book version.

Worse is my expansive CD collection. I'm nowhere near having to move out of the house yet but I am a bit of a completist when it comes to music, collecting rare pieces of music or CDs of albums I may not have bought in my youth to complete my collection of the entire output of various artists.

Mrs D thinks I'm a little odd. So I've started to download my music from iTunes. In this way my CDs are invisible and she doesn't know the true extent of my very eclectic collection.

But I don't think my book or music collection is evidence of compulsive behaviour. C'mon. Some people act compulsively when it comes to washing or shopping or gambling or eating and so on. I'm not like that.

But I'll tell you where I might act compulsively. Yeah, I admit I have a weakness. I'm forever straightening things up. If the placemats on the table are crooked I'll straighten them. If the phone on the counter is out of place I'll align it the way it normally is. If Mrs D leaves her cookbooks out in the kitchen I'll put them away.

If someone's been reading the magazines on the coffee table I immediately put them back in a nice neat pile. I have books on shelves under the coffee table and sometimes people accidentally push them in. I'm forever pulling them back out and lining them up in neat, straight stacks.

Mrs D is forever laughing at this. She thinks I'm a bit anal when I do this.

My unspoken answer, which always runs through my mind but which I never give voice to is "Yeah, too bad you weren't a little more compulsive about the laundry!"

Hey I might be a little compulsive but I'm not stupid.

Now if you're still with us after 22 days I think you've got a bit of an OCD issue having engaged in writing and reading all these posts that Nicky and Mike at We Work Compulsively have so kindly engaged us in. So for the 22nd time this month wander over there and see what the rest of those folks are afflicted with.

Thursday, 21 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 21: Last Train

We'd had a long day of sightseeing and as the daylight was quickly fading so were we. Our feet were sore. Bob and I decided on resting our dogs at a nearby pub and a couple of Guinness sounded good right about now.

It had been some day. We learned for instance that contrary to that childhood song London Bridge was not falling down.

And we were quite disappointed to learn that the crown jewels were just that, literally. I mean we'd read about Prince Charles' propensity for extra curricular, ahem, activities in the past and we kinda wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

We took a ride on the London Eye but were disappointed when there wasn't an optometrist to be seen. Boy did we make a spectacle of ourselves.

And we were quite amazed when we saw the Beefeaters at the tower of London. Not so much by their colourful uniforms but because they weren't eating beef. We thought we might be able to wrangle a free meal but no such luck.

We visited the British Parliament but got headaches when all those guys did was yell at each other. I mean how do they ever get anything done?

We dropped by Indigo's place for a spot of tea but when we rang his bell Max came to the door and told us Indigo was out with a bunch of badgers. We didn't quite understand this message. We thought it must be a uniquely British thing.

Indigo's pals badger him into a night on the town.

Bob and I were enjoying the perfect end to our day. We were able to relax and down a couple of drafts.

Relax? Oh my. Look at the time. If we don't grab a cab and high-tail it to Victoria Station we'll miss our train.

But luck was with us as there were still two trains in the station. As we boarded the train on Platform 1 the conductor gently grabbed hold of my arm and in a very kindly voice said:

Hold on a sec gents, this is the lass train.

The laddies train is on Platform 2.

Haul your freight over to We Work for Level Crossings where 4 out of 5 boxcars are carrying pizzas to Indigo's place today.

Wednesday, 20 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 20: The Other Shoe

It's been several years since I've bought new shoes. The last shoes I bought were a pair of golf shoes,  actually. I don't work anymore so I don't need dress shoes. The ones I have - a pair in black and a pair in brown - are gathering dust in the bottom of my closet.

I bought a pair of Champion running shoes in Panama several years back - really cheap - to add to my growing collection.

But I confess, when the nice weather's here I wear sandals when I'm going out and around the yard a pair of flip flops.

I have a pair of crocs, but Mrs D won't let me wear them. She hates them. But they're so comfortable even if they aren't fashionable. Sometimes I'll slip them on while she's at work and then take them off before she gets home. And she's none the wiser. Although, from time to time I do feel a little guilty having cheated on her.

I find my feet really haven't grown in the last 10 to 15 years so if my footwear is still presentable why should I get new shoes?

And besides I always have trouble buying new shoes. Once you've chosen the style you prefer and told the salesman your size you sit down and try a shoe on usually the right one. Hardly anyone tries the other show - the left one.

I do. I try them both on and walk around the shoe store.

And you know what often happens? Because so many people try the right shoe it's a bit loose. And because people hardly ever try the other shoe it's tight. I hate when that happens. Then I'll ask for another box of the same kind and size and try them on until I find a pair that fits just right.

At my age this is important because I've pretty much given up on shoes with laces. I haven't gone the velcro route just yet but slip-ons are more my speed. They're so simple to put on. First the right shoe. And then the other shoe. The last thing you want is for one shoe or the other to slip off.

So, when I do buy shoes I choose my footwear carefully, mindful of current trends. I mean I want to be instep with everyone else.

But I stick my tongue out at those that think I'm a dedicated follower of fashion.

I'm just looking for some comfortable shoes to give me a lift.

And I step sprightly because I don't want folks to think I'm a loafer.

I can be so fashionable that some people think I went to Oxford.

But I'm actually a bit of a cowboy and when I'm riding my horse people have been known to comment on my saddle shoes.

You know, you might say people take one look at my shoes and can tell I've got sole.

Ag! Let him end this. Please.

And eye let him stop.

Step on over to Nicky and Mike's place We Walk For Cheese and see how those other heels stomped all over today's prompt.

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 19: Little Things

Little Things

Is it grandiose gestures
Flowers store bought?
No it's the little things
They mean a lot

Is it magnanimous efforts
Battles well fought?
No it's the tiny actions
Often done without thought

Is it expensive presents
At the store that I got?
No it's something effortless
A thing not sought

Oh I think I'm getting it
It's what most appeals
It's little things
Things that are real

I think you understand
It kind of fits like a glove
It's the little things you do
That say "It's you I love"

Well why didn't you say so
My love, my honey
Before I went out
And spent all this money!

Head on over to We Pray To Little Cheeses and check out Nicky's little things. By that I mean the other folks participating in this challenge. Honestly, what did you think I meant?

Monday, 18 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 18: Home At Last

For this one I'm digging into the old archives. Hey, first time during the challenge I've done this. The story just seemed to fit. I first wrote and published this in January 2011. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the misfortunes of others...namely me.

Welcome to the U.S. Eh?

To Serve And Delay

Why me? Why do these things always happen to me. Canada/U.S. relations hit a new low last night when I touched down in Miami en route to Orlando from Panama. I know our dollar's worth more than the American currency in the current economic smack down but, hey, do you have to take it out on me?

So let me back up a bit. We left the condo in Bijoa Tuesday morning at 11:15, well in time for the two and-a-half hour drive to the airport. We made good time, traffic was good, we didn't get lost. We were humming our way through downtown Panama when from behind us we hear sirens. So we move over to the right lane. All of a sudden three police motorcycles whip by us in the left then one, whish, two, whish, not three, four, five but six dark windowed SUV's whip by us...and I mean they were moving. I'm thinking they're either shooting an instalment of Criminal Minds in Panama or that's the President's motorcade. Well, bringing up the rear were two guys in army fatigues on a motorcycle with the guy on the back extending his arm, pointing at us to STAY BACK. Hey, who's gonna argue with some guy in sunglasses armed with a sub-machine gun.

So that was exciting. Little did I know it set the tone for what was going to happen later in the day.

The American Airlines flight departed on time from Panama on it's three hour flight to Miami. I deplaned all set for the steeplechase marathon of Immigration, collect bags, Customs, re-check bags, security (oh, boy a pat-down) and determine the gate of my next flight on to Orlando. Shouldn't be a problem, Hell, I've got three hours. How long can it take?

So I get in the "Visitors" line up at Immigration. Things are moving slowly but surely. I reach the agent, who's friendly enough. He asks me how I am "Fine, thanks, how are you?" He asks me where I'm coming from "Panama" Nice there? "Great but hot" Bringing any money into the country? "Not much" ...pause... sir, this is purely routine but would you step back against that wall, an officer will be along in a moment? I feel myself going down, down, spiralling uncontrollably into a dream - a nightmare. What did he just say? Wait a minute, what's this about? Shit!

It's not like I was singing ICE, ICE Baby as I approached Mr Customs Man. But maybe they're gonna bust me for that five pound bag of Panamanian coffee (Yeah, I said coffee) I've got safely stashed in my golf bag. Five seconds later a female agent escorts me to THE ROOM. I'm shocked when I enter. She tells me to have a seat and wait for my name to be called. Oh, sit in here, with these other 100 people?! I felt like I was in a holding tank. Remember Alice's Restaurant. Remember the Group W bench? Let me help you...

Yeah, mother rapers and Father stabbers!
So I sat there, not half-an hour, not an hour but two hours before they called me. Luckily they let me keep my clothes on, not like in Arlo Guthrie's story. The guy asks me if I know a place called Matinoba. I'm thinking what the hell is this guy about? A geography test? I tell him I've never heard of it. His partner corrects him "Manitoba". Oh, sure it's a province in Canada. "Did you ever go to prison in Manitoba?" What? You've got to be kidding. No. Never. "Ever been arrested in Manitoba?" No (nervous laughter). "Ever been arrested?" No. "Hmm...okay give me a couple of minutes." I guess they thought I was one of those Father stabbing rapers. But they seemed to clear things up in about five minutes and let me go. Not so much as a "sorry". I collected my luggage, hit Customs, re-checked the bags, got a pat-down (meh, nothing to write home about), and made my connecting flight. And I got to see the U.S. Immigration system - your tax dollars at work - up close and personal. Welcome to the U.S, eh!

Needless to say, after all this, I was happy to get home, at last, although not before a week of golf with my brothers in Orlando. Fly on over to Have You Any Cheese To Declare and see how the other misfits handled today's prompt.

Sunday, 17 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 17: Whatever, Dude

It was sure to be an arduous task. The light in the laundry room had burned out and if he didn't change it soon he'd be recycling his underwear: front to back, back to front, inside out, repeat. He wasn't looking forward to that.

He shuffled across the living room floor with the aid of his cane and then gingerly lifted one foot, then the next, then the cane, step-by-step down the stairs to the basement. With advancing age he didn't move as quickly or as confidently as he once did. Nor did his mind work quite the way it used to. Entering the laundry room and lifting his eyes to the dead bulb in the ceiling, he realized he couldn't reach it and would need the step ladder.

But the step ladder was in the garage, hung high on a nail on the wall. He'd about need a step ladder to get at the step ladder.

So his tired legs and feet climbed the stairs and shuffled to the kitchen where the phone was. He'd call his grandson and see if he were able to come over and help him.

He slowly punched in the numbers and waited for the ring to be answered. Luckily, his grandson was home from school early that afternoon and said he'd be right over to help.

Oh, that's great he thought. I've got new bulbs, a ladder and now a helper. What a great grandson. I'm all set.

About half an hour later there was a knock at the door. That reminded him his doorbell was out of order and he'd soon have to do something about that, too. With a smile and a "Hey, Grampa" his grandson bounded through the front door and extended his arms in a hug.

After a brief discussion and dispensing with introductory pleasantries the grandson went out to the garage to retrieve the step ladder which hung on the garage wall.

They descended to the basement, one a little slower than the other where the grandson opened up the ladder, climbed up and unscrewed the burned out bulb.

He turned over the bulb to view the wattage and said to his Grampa "It's a 60."

"Oh dear" replied Grampa, "I only have 100s".

To which his clever grandson replied:

"Watt ever, dude!"

Saturday, 16 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 16: Music

It was comedian/musician Martin Mull who said:

"Writing about music is like dancing about architecture."

But, what the heck, I'm going to give it a go.

Music is such a huge part of my life. I don't play an instrument. I just love to listen. It's been a big part of my life since I was a kid in the 50s, starting with Elvis Presley. But I remember as a grade schooler, walking home with my pals mimicking Gene Chandler singing that doo-wop classic Duke of Earl...

Then it was on to the hot-rodding and surfing songs of the Beach Boys, Jan & Dean, the Rip-Chords and the like. And then, as a teenager, the British invasion of the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Gerry and the Pacemakers, the Animals, the Kinks, the Troggs, the Zombies, the Dave Clark Five and others took over.

And that was it. I was hooked. In my mid-to-late teens I sang in several rock bands. We never went anywhere other than friends' basement parties but we had a lot of fun.

Since then I've collected tonnes of records and CDs and now I download much of my music.

What do I listen to? Rock, Pop, Folk, Country, Alternative, Americana. Pretty much anything except rap or disco. I'll even listen to a little classical and sometimes, truth be known, opera. And speaking of opera it was humorist Robert Benchley who put his finger on this genre of music when he said...

"Opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings."

Because I'm retired, I spend a lot of time at home. And a lot of that time is spent listening to music - in and of itself or as background music to whatever else I'm doing.

Sometimes I'll mix things up and other times I'll have artist days. My CD player will load 5 CDs at a time, you see. Today, I'm listening to the third day in a row of Rolling Stones music. Yeah, it's only rock and roll, but I like it.

I have enough music in the house to last me the rest of my life. And, yet, I'm always buying more. I'm a bit of a completist and I'm always adding to my collection.

Favourite artists? My top three have to be Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Eric Claption, particularly their output during the 70s.

Currently, I've been on a 10cc jag. I just bought their 40th anniversary box set Tenology and I've been reliving my love affair with them in the early 70s.

10cc were all exceptional musicians and they had a very humorous way with words. Take for example a song in which they poke fun at themselves and the music industry - The Worst Band In The World...

My taste in music is fairly eclectic, as you can tell. But oddly enough, while I love music I hate to dance. Oh I'll tap my feet and nod my head to the beat. But you'll never get me out on the dance floor. Oh, no. Much to Mrs D's disdain as she loves to dance.

I just thought I'd note that for you.

Now dance on over to We Work For Cha-cha-cha-changes where today you can get a peek at Nicky's knockers. I kid you not.

Friday, 15 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 15: Or Else

Well we've passed the half-way mark in Nicky and Mike's 30 Days of Writing II Minus 2. Now that's such a mouthful I've taken to calling this month of torture 30DW2-2. Sorta sounds like a motor oil, I know. Kinda like better living through higher viscosity.

Anyway, on to today's prompt...or else. Ha, ha. See what I just did there. Or else Nicky'll come after me waving her fresh baguettes (is that a euphemism?) and tossing a couple of wheels of Oka cheese.

Now here's a little tale that rings true. We have a phantom doorbell. A few years back I bought one of those battery-powered doorbells to replace one that didn't work. You know, one that works on some kind of radio frequency. It was great. Put a little battery in the button and a couple of big ones in the bell and...voila...we had a working doorbell.

Well until something weird happened. Mrs D and I would be watching TV in the evening and the doorbell would ring. But when one of us would get up to answer the door (usually Mrs D 'cause I didn't want to miss a minute of House Hunters International) no one would be there. This began happening with increasing frequency (no pun intended) at all times night and day until one day in frustration I ripped out the batteries and posted this little note on our door...

When the time comes to replace the note on the door because the weather has worn away the writing I really can't make up my mind on what kind of note to post.

I could rewrite the same note, which seems to work fine, or else I could post this one...

I'm kinda leaning towards the latter. It has a certain ring to it, don't you think?

Now if you're just knockin' about get yourself over to Nicky and Mike's place at We Work For Baguettes and Oka cheese and check out what those other idiots have come up with today...or else.

Thursday, 14 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 14: Where Can I Get A Good Blintz?

Gary had planned out his day carefully. After all this was going to be a very special day - a once in a lifetime occasion. After weeks of thought and planning he had worked things out better than a proctologist with a big stick. And after all was said and done he'd be the luckiest guy in the world.

He had taken the afternoon off from work, having succeeded in getting Bob to take his shift at Five Guys Burgers and Fries. He never could figure that name out. Who were the five guys? He didn't think he was one of them. In his store there were seven guys and four girls. Why didn't they call his store Seven Guys and Four Girls Burgers and... Ah. He just figured out why that wouldn't work.

So it was mid-afternoon. The sun was shining down on the roadway in front of him "like a shimmering ribbon of large moving ants," he thought to himself. Except they weren't ants, they were cars. He knew that. But he often liked to think in similes.

He checked his piece of paper with his list.

#1 - Drive to bank

...he'd written as the first step.

Gary was a few fries shy of a poutine, which is why today he'd written his plans down on a piece of paper. The bank was but his first step.

He was busy all afternoon carrying out the items on his list. "As busy as a one armed man directing traffic," he thought to himself. Today of all days he was going to get everything right. "As right as rain," he thought to himself. While he often thought in similes he rarely used appropriate ones.

He looked at his watch. "Oh my God, look at the time. I'm going to be late," he said, later than a room full of 17 year-old girls in an obstetrician's waiting room.  He quickly hopped into his car and sped off in the direction of his pre-arranged appointment.

When he arrived in the parking lot. He gathered up his purchases and made his way to the front door of Guido's Italian Restaurant.

Inside was Rebecca, a nice Jewish girl, somewhat on the heavy side, but nevertheless the love of his life. He was taking her out for dinner to celebrate Valentine's Day and, little did she know (not unlike the captain of a destroyer with an underwater missile aimed at his hull - Christ! Now he's got me doing it.) but he was going to present her with something very special tonight.

He spied her at a table, sitting alone. He made his way toward her. He'd spent the afternoon buying things he knew she liked and would present them to her before his very special purchase. He went down on one knee. Her eyes widened. First he showered her with a dozen red roses. Then he presented her with a box of chocolates of which he'd carefully replaced the cover after eating several earlier. Well, he hadn't eaten lunch, eh? Next a lovely bottle of bubbly to celebrate the occasion. Then he pulled a lovely bracelet out of his bag and snapped it around her wrist.

With a wink of his eye and a final flourish he reached his hand into the bag to present her with the piece de resistance and... and... and...

It wasn't there. He'd lost his very special present; the one that would mean so much to her. And he knew if he didn't act fast she'd never forgive him.

He looked around the restaurant panic stricken, as panicked as a pedestrian realizing they've crossed a one way street against the light. He got up off his one knee, called the waiter over and in a hushed tone whispered to him...

"Do you happen to know where I can get a good blintz?"

Well I hope you enjoyed that. I propose you head on over to We Work For Crap, er, Crepe and see if the rest of the folks know where to get a blintz.

Wednesday, 13 February 2013

30DW2-2 Day 13: Unintended

Lucky 13.

Still 15 days to go.

Damn it to hell I don't know if I'm going to make it.

When Nicky invited my to participate in this little exercise my answer was purely unintended.

I meant to say no.

No thank you, Nicky.

I'm burned out, Nicky.

I'm wasted.

I haven't got any ideas.

I haven't got any energy.

I'm dead.

I'm still recovering from Ziva's infernal 30 Damn Days of Photographs.

I've just had pneumonia and spent 5 days in the hospital.

Leave me alone.

But you guys know Nicky.

Just how does one say "no" to Nicky?

So I said yes.

And that was unintended.

So away we went.


Hold On.

And the next thing I knew I was in the flow of things. I wrote a couple of posts several days in advance and I was off.

Keeping pace.

Coming up with posts for the prompts.

And that was unintended.

Look at me now, ma.

No hands.

Well something like that.

Who knew that I'd actually be thanking Nicky (and Mike) for getting me going again.

For making me think.

For making me write.

That was unintended.

Be sure and wander over to We Work For Limburger Cheese Spread where Nicky hangs out and see what everyone else intended to write about unintended today.

Tuesday, 12 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 12: The Day I Met Abraham Lincoln

Hmm. Should I stay in tonight and Watch Honey Boo Boo or go out to the theatre?

Oh, man, that alarm seems to have gone off early.

What time is it?

Oh, lord it's 7:30 already.

Well, big day today. Our American Cousin opens tonight and of all people the President will be there.

Who knew he was a such a big fan of the theatre?

Better get moving. Shower, shit and shave. Need to look my best for Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln.

Ironic how the Lincolns will be attending the Ford Theatre, eh? I wonder if that young mustang, their son, will be with them?


Hi, Bob. How's it going in the snack bar? Did we get that order of Cheez-Whiz in for the nachos? We did? Great! I want to to be sure Abe's love of cheese is fully filled. I mean he must love cheese. Why else would he be coming to see this play?

And what about the white chocolate and black liquorice? Are we all stocked up? Yeah? That's great. We want him to know the two can live in harmony.


Well, half-an-hour to go until they raise the curtain. The house is filling up nicely. We have the creme de la creme of Washington society this evening. I hope the cast milks this for all its worth. Ha, ha, sometimes I kill myself. Hmm, I wonder where General and Mrs Grant are?


The play's already started. Where's the President and his wife? People will soon be referring to him as the late Mr. Lincoln.

Ah, here they come.

Good evening Mr. President, Mrs. Lincoln. I'm John Ford, owner of this fine establishment.

A lovely day isn't it? Are you all set for an evening of high drama? We have a confederacy of your favourites at the snack bar, Mr. Lincoln. I know you don't want to be a slave to your pet food indulgences but unshackle your hesitations and dig in.

All set?

Would you prefer to be seated in the orchestra this evening, sir, or a Booth, perhaps?

And with that shot, history was made...


Shoot on over to Nicky and Mike at We Work For Cheese and see who else met Abe Lincoln today.

Monday, 11 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 11: Road Trip

Back in the early 70s my ex-wife and I were lucky enough to score government grants to pay for our university tuition. In those days the majority of the money we received didn't have to be repaid, unlike today when the majority of the money is a loan. Of course it helped immeasurably that we knew the lady in the university awards office. Nevertheless, we came into a small windfall. Did we use it for tuition?

We bought a 1969 Volkswagen Beetle and took off to Daytona Beach for Spring Break. Now travelling from Ottawa, Ontario to Daytona Beach, Florida was a major undertaking. It was several days' drive. Did we know where we were going? Sure. South!

I think we actually took out a membership with the Canadian Automobile Association who provided us with a Trip Kit - a series of pages of maps with a magic marker highlighting our route for us. Kind of like the 70s version of GPS, if you will.

The trip was fairly uneventful. Being a couple of impoverished university types we camped on the way there as well as once we got there to keep our costs down. And we shopped at the grocery store and cooked on a camp stove we'd recently bought at Canadian Tire.

Back then you could still drive on the beach. And we did. Again saving money by parking right on the sand.

Two things I vividly recall about that road trip. On our way back the border guard couldn't believe his luck. Two long-haired "hippies" (long-haired, yes, but we weren't hippies) with nothing to declare? I don't think so. "Pull your car up over there" where another guard proceeded to pull the car apart. This guy thought he'd caught us not declaring a brand new camp stove. It took some tome to convince him the the sticker on the side really meant "Canadian Tire" and that we'd bought it in Canada. Not before the guy tore out the back seat and the spare tire and windshield washer tank which, back then, ran off the air in the spare tire. I'm not kidding. Better not get a flat!

The other thing I recall was on our way down I'd been driving for some time and really had to go to the bathroom - badly. So I finally pulled over to the side of the road and made a dash for the bushes.

As I was relieving myself - and feeling relieved - a voice shouted from the car, "Dear you can't go there, look at the sign!"

And sure enough there was a sign...

Very funny, dear.

Drive on over to We Work for Cheese where Nicky and Mike are coordinating everyone's trip today.

Sunday, 10 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 10: The Mayor

Last year my youngest brother, Whitey (y'all remember Whitey?) asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I said "To go golfing." So, lucky me, he took me golfing on my birthday.

We're still talking about it.

You see my birthday is in late April and as it turned out, while sunny, the mercury didn't get above zero celsius.

Now I've only taken up golf in the last couple of years. I love it and I'm keen to get out on the course and swing the clubs anytime.

Whitey on the other hand has been golfing since he was a kid. He's pretty much seen it all. Except for going golfing when it's 0 degrees.

Look closely at that picture. We look a little red, don't we? It was windy too. And look at my brother  Mr. Whitey "Two Gloves". "Yeah", as he likes to say, "two gloves and three layers of clothing."

The guy's a wuss I tell ya.

This year maybe we'll wait until May or June (see what I just did there?) before we hit the links.

Speaking of links, swing on over to Nicky and Mike's place at We Work for Cheese where you may or may not check out the links of the rest of the club.

Hey, at least it wasn't this bad!

Saturday, 9 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 9: 15 Minutes

"In the future everyone will be world famous for 15 minutes."

Damn you Andy Warhol. Why don't people take your "15 minutes of fame" comment seriously?

When I've got nothing better to do, and I hate to admit how often that is, I'll skim the entertainment sites like TMZ and Perez Hilton. I don't look at these sites for news. I look at them for a laugh.

I mean, c'mon, what the heck is so interesting about Kim Kardashian and her ass's every move. Haven't we had enough about her, her ass, her mom, her sisters, her pregnancy and her boyfiend rapper guy who said President Bush hated blacks. Really.

And the Queen of news we couldn't use has got to be Lindsey Lohan. Who can keep straight how many criminal charges she has against her, how many court dates she has, how drunk or strung out she is or how much money Charlie Sheen gave her? Really.

Chris Brown beating up Rihanna?

Chris Brown beating up Frank Ocean?

Justin Bieber, doing doobies and Codeine cough syrup?

Housewives of ____________ (insert city of your choice)?

Donald Trump part orangutang?

Teen Mom?

Little Honey Boo Boo?

And the list goes on and on and on...

And these are just the people I'm vaguely aware of. There's a slew of people getting space on these sites I've never heard of before. But there seems to be something going on about them, their partners, their ex's, their pregnancies and so on every time I check in.

But people lap this stuff up. The hits on these sites are off the charts. They're the new National Inquirer and those other magazines we all read in the grocery store line up but refused to buy.

I dunno. I really wish they all had listened to Andy Warhol. Instead they seem to think that even bad publicity is still publicity.

And damn you Andy for changing your famous quote:

"I'm bored with that line. I never use it anymore. 
My new line is, 'In fifteen minutes everybody will be famous'."
Andy Warhol - 1979

  Geez, I haven't seen any Paris Hilton stories lately. I hope she's okay.

Hey listen, while you've got 15 minutes zip on over to We Work For Cheese where Nicky and Mike are keeping track of today's stars via their linky dinky thingy.

Friday, 8 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 8: French

In Canada, we live in a bilingual country. Our official languages are English and French. If you work for the federal government and want to get ahead, you need to be bilingual. And you're tested every 5 years to ensure you can still read, write and speak your learned language.

As an Anglophone, who only had grade-school French, I had to go through this testing. It wasn't easy. But I managed. At taxpayer's expense. You see if you didn't pass the test you had to go to French school to brush up. It usually took five or six months away from work. It was a pretty good deal. And then you'd go back to the office and speak the language most prevalent at work: English.

Anyway, I'm not here to rate the federal government's language policy. Or to comment one way or the other on the fact that people across the country I never even knew paid through their taxes to send me to language school...several times.

No, I'm here to share with you an odd little fact about my marriage. You see Mrs D is a Francophone. And I'm an Anglophone who has pretty much shed his French abilities much like a snake sheds its skin.

I don't know what she ever saw in me. Before we hooked up we were kind of like that novel "Two Solitudes". We have a wonderful life, though. We love each other dearly and have been together now for about 13 years.

Lately, however, I've come to question ma cherie amour's sincerity.  You see for much of the time we've been together Mrs D has had a lovely little term of endearment she's used to reflect her love for me. She uses it often and it just kind of makes me feel all warm inside.

I thought it was one of those cute little French idioms. Now I'm not so sure.

Often she'd call me "Toto". Or after I'd expressed an opinion of some sort she'd say "Voyons (c'mon) Toto!" and I'd smile at her and blow her a kiss.

But here's what I've learned this week in doing a little research for this post.

The drawing above if called "tête à Toto" and represents a French children's game where 0+0=0 and is drawn while reciting "zero plus zero equals the head of Toto". In other words Toto's head equals zero.


And it would seem Toto is a common children's character in French, much like we'd use "little Johnny" in jokes in English. And it would also seem there are many, many Toto jokes. All of which poke fun at Toto.


And Toto is aften used as a synonym for zero.


But that's not all.

From time to time she calls me "naiseux". Has a nice lilt to it, don't you think? Sure, I thought so too until I looked it up: foolish, annoying, irritating.




You know there are a few other words she uses repeatedly that I thought were terms of endearment but now I'm afraid to share them with you or to ask her what they mean.

I don't want to appear naiseux...and Toto too, you know.

Nicky will appreciate this post, I'm sure. Get yourself on over to We Work For Cheese  (Nous traviallons pour fromage) and click on the naiseux link thingy to see how the rest of the Totos fared today.

Thursday, 7 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 7: Texting

As a gentleman of a certain age I pride myself with keeping up with technology. I'm downloading music from iTunes and books from iBooks. I have an iPhone, an iPad and a MacBook. I get my news from the internet, not newspapers and TV. I watch videos. I check out movie times and theatres. And I bookmark restaurants I go to so I can reserve on the internet in the future.

But one thing I don't get is texting. I mean really, as if e-mail wasn't impersonal enough. Now you can be rude and remote in real time?

I have friends who aren't even on Facebook so like I'm sure they're not into texting. They, and I, think cell phones are for talking. How prehistoric, right? And I actually still have a landline telephone at home. Imagine!

But I hate to admit I am guilty of being lazy and evasive. That's right, I'm a texter. I use my cell phone for almost everything except talking. It's got games, books, news, music, Google and, yes, a texting function.

But my texting is limited. I contain it to just my kids. It's not because we're not close. It's because it's convenient. They both work. I know they'll get my text and answer me later in the day. And vice-versa.

But still it's difficult for me to accept. I mean I grew up in the day of rotary phones and party lines and, I know this will shock you, face-to-face conversations. Yes, imagine having to actually talk to someone standing next to you! Welcome to the 2010s!

Funny thing. In 1976, one of my favourite 70s bands released an album called "How Dare You?".  The inside of the album cover portrayed a group of people at a party, all of them talking on the phone.

This was 1976, mind you. Cut the phone cords and that picture would represent any social gathering today. Why talk to someone in person when you can Tweet, Facebook, e-mail or text someone else?

Talk to someone face-to-face? I guess 10cc got it right, and were way ahead of their time, when they said "How Dare You?"

Check in with those characters at We Work For Cheese and see who else is texting today.

Wednesday, 6 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 6: Haven

Okay, now this is gonna sound a little weird but for me my haven is the couch. Really. It's where I'm the most comfortable and where I spend a lot of my time.

I don't want to leave you with the impression that I never get up, go out or never go anywhere. I do. Sometimes. But when I do I always come back to the couch.

It's just my spot. My happy place, if you will.

I can watch TV from the couch. Listen to music. I'm surrounded by books. I'm steps from the kitchen and the bathroom.

To paraphrase Belinda Carlisle, "Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth? My haven is a place on earth."

And if I go downstairs to feed the cat or pay the bills when I'm done I have my own little stairway to haven.

And at night when my dear wife comes home from work and joins me on the couch for a snuggle and a little TV I whisper in her ear, "Thank haven, for little girls."

Sometimes, parts of a DVD or TV show will make me cry. I can't help it. From time to time I get emotional. On these occasions I have tears in haven.

That couch is so comfy no one will get me out of it. Nope. No matter how much they try knock, knock, knockin' on haven's door.

And for those of you who think I may never get to haven, haven's to betsy man, I'm already there.

Check out Nicky and Mike at We Work for Cheese for more havens.

Tuesday, 5 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 5: You Better Put Out

Hey it wasn't me that came up with these damn prompts. So, Nicky, today's post is on your head, in a manner of speaking...

Not really Nicky and Ziva but a reasonable my mind.

For My Dear Friends Nicky and Ziva

You better put out
You better not cry
Nicky don't pout
I'm telling you why
Infernal Ziva is coming to town

She's not making a list
She's not checking it twice
Ziva knows who's naughty not nice
Cheesy Nicky's losing that frown

Ziva sees her when she's sleeping
She knows when she's awake
She doesn't care if she's been bad or good
Nicky's a sister-wife for goodness sake

Oh, I'm gonna watch that
At least I'm gonna try
I'll even hold the cat (huh?)
And I'll tell you why
The sister-wives are town
The sister-wives are town 

I think you better hose me down. I get hot just thinking about it. Hop on over to Nicky's linky thingy (not a euphemism) and see if Ziva's come posted yet.

Monday, 4 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 4: Friendship

To My Best Friend

She's a lover and a wife
And she's my friend for life
She makes me laugh, she makes me smile
She keeps me happy all the while

And when I'm sick she tends to me
And makes me well for all to see
And when I'm sad she cheers me up
And lets me sip from her loving cup

Sometimes I'm in a bit of a funk
And I might get a little drunk
But she just laughs and holds my hand
And reminds me that our life is grand

What have I done to deserve such love?
Was she sent to me from heaven above?
Just what the heck does she see in me?
Man, I'm as lucky as can be

I can't help but love her too
There's nothing else for me to do
Our love is genuine, our love is pure
And I know our friendship will endure.

Sigh, pass the Kleenex and after you've dried your eyes trot on over to Nicky and Mike's and follow the links to see who's doing what to whom today.

Sunday, 3 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 3: And The Next Thing I Knew...


I rarely remember them.

I don't know why.

But more often than not I wake up and immediately forget what I was dreaming about. Maybe it's age. After all I forget things when I'm awake, too.

There are times, though, when the dreams are so vivid they stay with me. And after I've gotten up to go pee in the middle of the night I sometime try to restart a dream. Rarely with success though.

Some dreams are repetitive. Like the ones where I fly. It's kinda what I think an acid trip might be like. Not that I've ever had one. But I often dream about flying.

The other dream I often have has to do with an elevator. An elevator that never stops. And the elevator isn't goes both up and down. But it never stops. Sometimes it keeps going down, picking up speed into some subterranean place this side of hell. Or it keeps going up, exploding through the roof of a building into the sky...up, up, up.

For some reason these dreams never conclude. They get me so scared I wake up in the middle of them before the elevator either slams into hell or drifts so high in the sky it starts to fall again. After all, what goes up must come down.

So I'll wake up, get out of bed and go pee. And these dreams I don't want to continue when I go back to bed after my middle of the night pee break. Oh, no. They're far too scary.

Good thing, too. Because if I didn't wake up and go pee, and the dream continued, the next thing I know is I'd probably wet the bed!

Fly on over to Nicky and Mike's now. The next thing you know is you'll be clicking on the links to see what the rest of those idiots are up to. 

Saturday, 2 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 2: Hold On

Okay, I'm really gonna show my age here but for me "Hold On" makes me think of Sam and Dave, those soulful dudes from the 60s.

Forget the Blues Brothers or any other covers. There was nothing quite like the original in 1966. I caught up with Sam and Dave in 1969, at the age of 17 when I bought their "best of" collection...

This disc had some great tracks, including: Soul Man, When Something Is Wrong With My Baby, I Thank You and, of course, Hold On, I'm Comin'.

Sam and Dave were known variously as "Double Dynamite", "The Sultans of Sweat", and the "Dynamic Duo" because of their stage performance, not unlike that of James Brown for instance.

Legend has it the inspiration for the song came when songwriter Isaac Hayes called to his partner Dave Porter - indisposed in the bathroom - who replied "Hold on man, I'm comin'". They wrote the song in 10 minutes. It became a monster R&B hit for Sam and Dave.

Head on over to Nicky and Mike's and check out the linky dinky thingy and see who else is holdin' on.

Friday, 1 February 2013

30DW2-2 - Day 1: Cheesy

Welcome to day one of 30 Days of Writing II minus 2. Now of course someone that runs a blog called We Work For Cheese would of course begin our little challenge with the prompt of "cheesy". But I ask you, how cheesy is that, right?

I love cheese. Sliced cheese, gourmet cheese, cheese sticks, pepperoni and cheese pizza, cheez name it, I'll pretty much eat it.

When I was a kid I pretty much lived on Cheez Whiz sandwiches. There was nothing quite like cold, refrigerated globs of Cheez Whiz on fresh white bread. Mmmm-mm. Or on crackers. And I'd wash it all down with a couple of glasses of chocolate milk.

Also when I was a kid one of my favourite expressions was "Who cut the cheese?" and "He who smelt it dealt it!"

I haven't eaten Cheez Whiz in years. You see I've matured, just like the cheese I now eat. I love brie, edam, swiss, cheddar and many other kinds of cheese. Stilton? Forget it. I just can't stomach the stuff. But I pretty much like the rest as long as it's not too exotic.

Funny, you know, I may have given up Cheez Whiz but as I've grown older people increasingly ask me, "Who cut the cheese?"

Trot on over to Nicky and Mike at We Work For Cheese and check out the linky dinky thingy to see who else is cutting the cheese today.

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