Seventeen Years of Blogging

According to Mr. Google, “most experts agree the first blog was, created in 1994 by then-student Justin Hall as a place to publish his writing.”  Hard to believe, I know, but I started my blog in April 1996.  And this is only thanks to my then baking and webpage assistant, Gord Grisenthwaite, as I was in the fruitcake business.

Yes, a lot has happened in seventeen years, but as you can probably agree, time flies.  My precious dog Louie turned ten on April 1st and I can remember the day I brought him home like it was yesterday.  This wonderful dog remains the joy of my life, even though now obese with a bald stomach covered in black spots.  However at nearly 69 I shouldn’t be judging anyone’s aging process lest someone point out my crumbling flesh.

Mom’s former handyman, Alan, is coming from Nova Scotia to work on the house and yard.  Isn’t that amazing?  Most people hire a handyman who lives in their town, but mom’s handyman’s coming thousands of miles to do all manner of things Luke’s refused to do over the past two years.  Luke doesn’t mind working around their own little house, but anything in or around mom’s house is anathema.

It’s difficult, as Luke’s 36 and impatient, and mom’s 98 and persnickety so the combination is bad, whereas somehow she and Alan could fiddle around by the hour in her xeriscape garden.  Alan filled it with large rocks and fossils found in the hills around the town.

Mom: Alan, move that rock a foot to the right.  Come here and stand with me.

Alan: Yes, I think that looks fine.

Mom:  No, now that I’m looking at it again, I’d like it moved another six inches to the right.

Alan: Okee dokee.

Very few people like to work that way, so we’re thanking God Alan’s coming.  I made a list of things for him to do, but he’s also there to get the yard in shape since we placed the modular there last year.  We need his vision to turn it into something completely adorable.  I’m even planning to stain the deck down at the beach, so it’ll be quite the push to get the place in shape before he has to fly back home.

I now live in a cloud of cat box odour, yet I have outdoor cats and no litter box, but Calvin the basement tenant has one for his nice orange tabby named Felix.  I told him it stinks in the basement, however I think because of the furnace I seem to be chewing on clay up here, hence it must be getting into the air as fine particles.  The stench is the dead giveaway.

Oh well, into every life a little rain must fall, right?  And speaking of that, every one of my stored dahlias came out of storage mucky so that was a complete heartbreak as some were huge.  I threw them out, drove straight to Art Knapps, and spent over $100.00 to start over again with teeny bulbs.

Spring is hunting season and I’ve had a mouse’s head balled up in my bedspread, and a rat’s head left on the floor beside my bed.  Last night I heard George making his “I have prey” sounds so I closed my bedroom door.  I’m tired of rodents and their bits in my room.

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