RENO - a place we own or a gambling spot?

We received cards commenting on the blog an in particular requests for more in 2008. Well you want you'll get it.

Most asked for was an update on Nevada. Sorry - Mobrae Avnue renovation. Here's an update on a comparative basis:

Yes we've destroyed the front of the garden, spent a load on triming trees and shrubery to get as much light in. We did get rid of the etched glass in the doors. Imagines of the retired couple wandering past the door in the morning attire come to mind. They will, however, appreciate the sunlight even if exposes their unique attachment to flannel and wooly slippers. This of course would not occur during our residency.

I am talking as though we've sold this price (have had two enquiries already but nothing solid of course).

One may recall our fascination with septic septics in an earlier entry on this blog... well no mucking about here. We have a new one and it looked a oil refinery before being covered. More images come to mind - James Dean in "The Giant' dripping in crude oil - of course I'd just start running for Mr Hudson only to offer some design ideas to Dame Talyor - regardless the find would have come in handy.

Now some samples on changes in the main level. Not the radio - yes we have the lates Britney Spears album and I do like a little bit of a dance. Keeps the subtrades awake.

New propane fireplace due tomorrow which might make the gaping hole disappear.

There is also a picture of the kitchen - that is not me with the moustache... he's a great friend and a sparky. That is Alan in work mode - bless him

Well that's it so far - one large completely ripped out house - a bit like myself?

Not terribly exciting but next weekend I'll try to do another posting so you'll get an idea what we spend our money on when we're not buying SAAB convertibles or leasing Dodge pickup trucks!

Blessings

P&A

The Epiphany

Biblical Magi - well not exactly

Finally, and as prophets had promised, the events of what some refer to as the Holiday Season were done. I was sweeping up, putting things away and the little one was quiet; swaddling clothes are great for calming children. My beloved bethrothed was planning yet another popping in of a window. I interrupted in a blunt manner pointing out that we were only renting this manger and it’s was not a Maracaibo palace. I realised later that this blunt mode of speak would probably get me in trouble later on. I am, I thought, dealing with the Mother of God and one would think that she might have some powerful connections. Just say we don’t know the same people. Her people have been around far longer and know a trick or two. I dropped the protest about the window being popped in it is now very bright in our little Hundred Hills Manger.

Whilst pattering about in my sandals (they were designed by an Egyptian who convince our people to continue to wear them even after the Exodus) thinking of a possible vacation on the Red Sea doing some diving, mud skin applications and some pyramid sales a knock was heard at the door. Well it wasn’t actually a knock more the sound of a drum “ratatata” – my first thought was the 103.5FM had promised to revert to the regular mundane musical selection so what is this Christmas stuff? Next thing we’ll see is Karen Carpenter descending as an angel with an overbite.

Dutifully I went to the door – My Lady was busy playing Bridge with some left over angels – it was the only way we could stop them hovering and repeating Hallejulahs and Hosannas. To my great surprise three members of the ZZ Top band were standing there. They introduced themselves as various sizes of Champagne bottles. Peculiar I thought that they weren’t beer drinkers. I could understand Molson, Bud and Heini stopping by but these oriental looking band members had gone the extra distance.

I invited them in and upon seeing the child they dropped to their knees. What bad timing this was - I had only just finished sweeping the seemingly ever present floor dust and these guys had enough draping garments to clean up the Temple in ole’ Jerusalem. I got back to the issue at hand of being the host and offered them a cup of tea and explained that due to a previous situation the only alternative I did have was some fizzy non-alcohol stuff keeping cool in the cattle trough. They asked if I had cranberry juice and french spa water – they were so classically festive.

Having asked many questions, my Immaculate One kept everything in her heart whereas I was more the village all inclusive story exchange centre, I got a great photo of them with 1 angel, a donkey and a very scared lamb. Let’s think forward some one is going to have to put this on their Bible Blog someday. I chuckled thinking how clever I was with the creation of the new word “bible” – blogs had been around for years – you tended to get stoned to death in the village square when you had one.

We had planned to stop in at Baby Gap during our upcoming travels – we’d have the convertible, trendy clothing and blaring music. No one could possibly think we were escorting God made man. However, if you’re travelling with gold, myrrh and frankinsence well they are going to figure it out. Yes it may take some 2 thousand years but CSI Las Vegas will discover the meaning of all whilst picking up other clues on some Smith guy moving to Utah with his self help book, a guy that makes his people walk in circles around a black box (wasn’t that a rock band?) and break out to blow up and another guy with a pinache for orange. Can’t say religion doesn’t have some eccentricity in it. Note: CSI Miami is working on why older men in white wear red Prada shoes – it’s really caught them off guard.

The Epiphany has actually been my favourite part of the Christmas story. Most human with it’s story of journey and dedication

Always
The Boys xx

Happy Bloody Birthday Bloody Happy

Some one's having a birthday shortly and here's a lovely little balloon to celebrate - so there you have it the celebration!

Well I'm just not going to apologise!

You see I've been busy being. Believe what you will

You might even be interested where have I been in the last 2 months, if you don't just exit now - on certain distasteful sites they say "take me somewhere else". Never quite understood why some one would get near enough to entering such sites to then opt for the above choice. Possibly they have some real nastiness up their sleeves if you make this selection.

The answer is, however, I've been nowhere - rumour has it I'm going off island tomorrow. This is very unnerving and makes me wish it already has occurred. Some people fear that I might build a home of twigs in the bushes and wander into town once a year. It will depend who's in the twigged haven.

Let's start with the standard topics: the housing front. There seems to always be one being recommended at committee stage as though we are functionairies of the government responsible for the living arrangements of the elderly.

The Belvedere sold, though we are renting it back whilst working on the next project. The new place is all bit of the same old.; empty house, rectangular and square rooms with no furniture. Typical Canadian 1980's styling - and didn't the Canuck Design Club have a way about them? Because of their lack of taste things now are in a real mess. Its a shame murder squads are outlawed - reality shows on how to renovate your home is theatre managed by vermin; literally out of control.

To get an idea of how dreadful the situation is here in the provinces there is now a TV show featuring those horrific gay b'tards from Scotland (Colin & Justin) with a mandate to rid Canada of ugly homes one at a time. Just focusing on the 80's could take a millennium.

We've got to hand it to them though - when gays get going the going is similar to a repugnant Canadian comedy show from Winnipeg, Toronto or some backwater called Montreal. If anyone saw the Gemini Awards (CAD TV Self Congratulatory Evening) they will understand what is being referred to. Let's say its just a waste of electricity and a difinitive reason for the use of nuclear warheads.

Okay!!! - I can just heard my dear friends saying "If you don't like it go back" - from hence forward I'll be nice to my fellow Canuckers. Wouldn't that just rhyme with some of the finer words of the English vocabulary. Now I fear that I may be obtaining my material from a pathetic source rather than the preferred abhorrent one. Being rude has no style but being abhorrent is just so much more a focused state of mind

When touring about looking for homes we ended up with a little theme song, very much not in the mode of Jack Kerouac as it once featured on "Three's Company" - come on lets sing it: "Come and knock on our door, we've been waiting for you" ......... and now the door: (note the glass etching - makes me itch)











Here's some lovely boring pics of 220 Mobrae - you'll see what I mean by the "same old"
















Don't they just turn the ole' crank?! I'm definitely going to miss the view from Saltspring Way but the deal is not to get attached.

Just in case you haven't noticed, the melancholy season draws around us as the lights flicker earlier in the gleam of the setting sun on the Pacific. Brother moon rises high and recalls jack o'lanterns of our "pied pipered" adolescence. The last notes of this year's violin are played out as we don our coats with high necks and hats held on by chilled hands. It's autumn and death nears as we enter the month of remembrance. All Saints and Souls days are acknowledged as we light candles for those gone before. A time of golden light and dark nights; I'm going to stop now before any of this starts to make sense.

I was thinking, as I put on my ceremonial Sikh sword and Buddhist henna facial this morning along with my Franciscan robes and removing the last accessory donned by which I was acknowledging the important influence of Coco Chanel and Ugly Betty, that an unguent and unctuous fashion statement needs to be found in everything we do. Go on make the effort.

Px

PS to my non-Canadian readers. Some of this may have not made sense - be assured you're not missing much.

The Belvedere is on the Market

Well we all knew we going to try to turn this little monkey of a house around and here we go again. Here's the link

http://www.thehobbs.ca/component/option,com_hotproperty/task,view/id,88/Itemid,79/

So the search for the buyer starts as well as finding another one to work on.

Below is another entry I added the other day -- very odd one but hopefully will make you chuckle in the sweet Chuckie fashion

Px

OKAY - So a week is a really long time on SSI

I promised several entries since my last one on the 11th of July 1972 - sorry 2007 - however, it got cooler and I had to paint the deck, worked on this and that and whatever else came our way. However, mostly I just have not found the energy to sit down and spew at you good folks.

It is very important that a couple of things are cleared up. My little animal that ended my last posting, which caused no end of upset particularly with the lady readers, I should explain that my friend is real and actually now visits on a regular basis. We sit on a bench by the water's edge listening to the ebb of the ocean's heart and share stories and buckets of gossip. Her name (yes she is a grand ole girl that was rather mistreated by her male siblings during a genetic experiment they did in the the bowels of their parents home) is Pricilla Petrus. She hates it and would prefer Prissy Pussy but I said no!

The brothers, Innes and Pinnes, were rather unassuming psycho cases; you have all read about these types usually roaming high schools or seen in shopping malls mumbling to themselves over the decision of which fast food sugar hit they will next make. A few things to know about the boys. Though they claim to be someones sons they are actually born from an egg styled pod which is randomly laid by loonies that can't keep their hands out from under their nighties. This randomness allows for complete anonymity by the parent.

Ironically, when things do go bad some woman type comes forward. They usually have head hair that you could fry eggs on, none or very few teeth, and a beer belly. Their postal address is a unit and parking lot number. Of course they have been misled by their junky PR manager who has assured them they are on the cusp of being famous. They have never seen a picture of Elizabeth Taylor - not even at her worst - so they are somewhat lost in the oleo of life.


My friend, Pricilla, who did live through the tortures of these pesty little varmits, actually has quite the story - but this we will go over in time. I do want to share with you how she appears to the public when she's not be convinced to drop her clothing for a photo shoot. Little does she know that it has been done before. Here's the picture:



Seen it before? Amazing what a little bit of makeup and a twist of hair can do for a half dog/half human gene experiment. I know it looks similar to Audrey but in my little world every female does. It really helps me get around the fat ugly ones. Many of you may also remember the coat I once wore in her memory (a rather camp time and not one on a lake).

As for her family pod here's a little shot of them, they don't seem all that bad but again loads of plasticine has been used here:


Just your average North American family? - well what about:


If you notice there is a light on behind the mother's head - this is an indication that she just got the idea to go out and eat mice. The boys, of course paranoid of this woman, are laughing in that uneasy rodent fashion that seems to be a main characteristic of this great clan.

I have as yet not been able to find a recipe featuring mice - of course I wouldn't these people do not know how to read or write. They use noises only decipherable by single cell organisms Their sex lives are similar

Topic Two


I found it very disappointing that some of you didn't get the reason behind the visit to the hospital. Those that did please pour yourselves a drink - it will slowly kill you.


I've not had problems with things other than people asking how I'm feeling. The ole joke "with my hands" is too passe so I've got these new ones:


"Not sure I'm still very numb in some areas"


"Obviously it's not obvious to you that I have a ticking clock around my neck"


"Didn't really feel unwell, just had a craving to visit a hospital full of loonies - I had nothing on that week nor did they"


"Would you still have asked me that question if I used blush?"


"Much better since losing the tumour during a dream - a rather damp one I might point out"


"Still rather angry that I spent so much money (UKL) and still I'm going to make my 50th"


I do, however, feel that you get a slight aura around oneself when people are thinking to themselves and mumbling those great adjectives: drunk, alkie, loser, down and out (sorry that was more than one word) but in my stoic leper fashion I carry on I've got aura. It's not one that is going to open the gates of heaven I assure you. It's been remarked that that I shouldn't spit into other people's drinks if I really do have leprosy. There are just too many PC rules around. It really kills the fun and scaremongering.


In actual fact my Friends and Family have been very kind. All they get back is some kind of 3rd class sense of humour and some hurt feelings. They are such sports - many many thanks.


Might I note that the homeless on Robson Street in Vancouver don't really care.


So we have no pics this week on the house - proper ones are being done this coming week and we'll forward the link once available. We're pretty pleased with the outcome - the question is will someone be so kind to hand over the dosh? We hope to be on the market by next weekend.


Other updates in Christmas card mode:


We had a wonderful visit with my brother and his delightful wife Deborah and our friend Bryan has come to visit and work on the project as his holiday pastime. Some regrets may exist in his mind on that one. We're still having delays in the balance payment from the buyer of Hundred Hills House over the septic. We feel he's blessed to have our old septic as many people go without. The rest of the families are well. We enjoy life on Saltspring so very very much and have taken up knitting, needle working, and charitable works. People wave as we pass, we don't understand what they are saying as we are only now conversing in Portuguese in preparation for our humanitarian stint on the beach in Brazil.




Stoically,
Px

Hospitality on another level

Who’d expect it? You go in for a few tests and before you know it you’re marched off to the hospital on a virtual compulsory order from the physician. Here’s an interesting note: that last four letters make up the name Cian – he is from Irish folklore and was born with a filmy membrane on his head and then turned into a pig later in life by a Druid’s wand. Those Druids had such a wonderful sense of fun. Regardless, remember that little story next time you run into anyone that has “cian” at the end of their title or I’d suggest high tailing it out of wherever you are if is actually their name; there maybe a wand waiting to do have some jolly ole fun.

Our little “cottage” hospital, as it was referred to Circa 1904, offers the finest possible of medical services in a very rural community setting it. Luckily enough it is hospital that stores characters that made me open my eyes, drop my jaw and generally scared the “b’jesus” out of me.

My first encounter was the screaming witch with the “all about me attitude” but it would be as she was that kind of size or that some would say takes up far too much space. She also featured sky blue dyed hair which had obviously done by someone with a great sense of humour. Her clothing was a spin off from the hookers of Ancient Rome and of course Goth makeup – shame she suffered the shakes it really as it was everywhere. Her form of transport is what I found remarkable. Having turned the seat of a wheelchair towards her, she placed a bedpan on the seat and put her head in the pan. With the force of true determination she headed to the exit of the hospital where she could enter the garden where smoking is permitted (not after 01 July you nasty piece of work). The door was kept opened, but I saw an opportunity and released the lock on the door. Smack – she wasn’t hurt but rather stunned that she’d lost her wicked powers. Throughout my stay she remained a screamer but the mare never did find out who let the door close on her.

I shared my room with three chaps, in their 90’s but I’ll still call them chaps. Two remained in bed in a semi-comatose state. They yelled out interesting little phrases like “this place is doomed” or “shit, shit, shit” but in fact that one had wet his bed – rather confusing. Number two inmate would talk aloud to himself. He was actually lucid in his thoughts but I didn’t need to know he was going to try for another bowel movement. I would, however, know when it happened; a truly grand sound.

The third chap could get out of bed. He was a real character but in terrible pain. He did have panache for putting the family jewellery selection on display and falling asleep standing at the one sink in the room or forgetting why he’d wandered into the bathroom. Obviously the little men’s room did not come with exit directions. One night, somewhat confused, he tried to make my bed for me – I just happened to be in it as it was 2:30am. He was so thin I called him Praying Mantis. It wasn’t meant to mean it is just a way to describe him; believe me I never said it to his face. Always the example of gentlemanly behaviour.

Then there was the most disliked man on SSI. He would interrupt our conversations, go on about what I could do to regain my hair which included something he kept under his sink at home. He was otherwise thoroughly obnoxious. We would take him out to the smoking garden, at his request, and forget about him until bedtime when I’d mention something to the nurses. They didn’t seem to mind that he’d disappeared. On the last morning he asked why I wasn’t wearing a hat and that I would loose my hair (bit late you b’stard). The only comeback that could come to mind was: “I’ll wear a hat if you wear a muzzle”. I then wandered off. Of course I mumbled it being the chicken that I am which is somewhat pathetic as the guy couldn’t walk on his own.

Being someone that wouldn’t have used a public toilet before entering the hospital I definitely surprised everyone with my ability to adjust. I now shower at the laundry in town and only use public toilets – I’ve just become so reckless and carefree.

I did have several moments when I thought back to the Nuffield Private hospital in Hove, England. How hard we sometimes fall. I particularly thought of this when eating the Cow Patty Mousse which became somewhat a staple dessert on our menu.

My great friends of Saltspring visited daily and I’m terribly grateful for their time and the deep concern they showed – a truly wonderful group of people. We chatted about everything and one of our conclusions is that as each person has a unique colon the uniqueness should be record as a form of identification rather than finger prints. Okay, I’ve no idea how we went down this route but it was a meaningful and deep conversation. It was indeed, almost metaphysical on many levels.

I’m home now – Alan, I think, thought I was getting too adjusted and having too much fun with my playmates so he ordered me back to Reno II.

Please note: Alan is not responsible for any content, he’s just appears because I needed an ‘A’ to make P&A and because he’s more than special for putting up with me!

I did think I saw this creature the other day
or was that just one of the moments we
all have whilst in a hospitality clinic?

Just another insight into a strange world.

Px

Something on the strange side - but on going

Tuesday, who would have never known it would that day of the week? Bright, breezy, the ripple on the ocean from my deck appeared as silk on a princesses’ bed. White sails floating past and a cool turn of breath from the sky on my neck. But this is not really the state of affaires. That was the view and so much was happening inside.

We kept it all quiet.I have always said OKAY in most situations not knowing that it was a self induced sense of empowering where there was no right to do so. But here I go again with Okay it was Tuesday. Never liked the day – mind you pancakes can be okay from time to time. However, it hailed Ash Wednesday and that was worrying. How good of a Catholic are we if we don’t understand that poignant date in the liturgical calendar?I never did any nasties on Tuesdays – but let’s jump forward and look on the other days of the week that I somehow leaped out of the box of the bland.

Friday
Dinner with the family. Terribly infused with the spirits of wine and otherwise; I remove myself from their presence to go forth. Think I did a nasty that night. Married men can be very worrying - take your imagination where ever it wishes to go.

Saturday
Generally stayed in – several times just drinking through the night. Often, I would make very odd phone calls, which to this day I still regret. Well it is Saturday and Sunday is in view with whatever penance it will come with. We might as well, during this short life, take a chance and see what options are out there. Saturdays also generally cost the price of 2 bottles of dark rum. Whilst at university that was a lot of money.

Monday
Oh dear me – ever felt your head on such a day? There was a film about leaving Vegas that always reminded me about my state of mental health. Also, it’s the day of the big decisions – company crap – personal stuff and worst of all apologies to someone that I said something that shouldn't have. There is a story of a lady visiting our home with a dear friend of ours. She was (probably still is) big – I enquired about her personal status and as she finished saying that she was no longer with her husband I asked “Did you eat him?” I never get the punishment I deserve.I know

I have missed a couple of days and they are coming soon for review – but back to that Tuesday. It was the day of the worst practical joke. ………………… more soon

So you've asked for a look into the mess

These are current pics - it causes grey hair and I only have two left. That's an Alan joke - I'm not really sure how funny it is.

Well the Fat Queen's Birthday is done for a year and a rant.

Get a load of this woman - they actual celebrate her birthday here. She sat on the throne of the Birtish Empire for 64 some odd years because she was fat. In fact I believe she shows up from time to time on Little Britian's Sliming Club. Oh - and the husband - Prince Albert - we know what that's all about. They did have 9 children - story goes she didn't like a single one of them. Here are a couple of examples of her procreation skills


Very much like Alan and I went we don't iron our linens. As though that would ever happen.

Now you're probably thinking that this is all in just simple bad taste. Well you see I've rant about certain things from time to time that drive me a little more mad than I am usually. Example: This Queen Vicky never visited this country I do believe she sent one of the above out for a visit and one her daughters is the reason we have Lake Louise. But these people never really bought into the Canadian thing.


Then there are the ex-pats living in Hollywood and England who develop great careers in their fields and return only when the government of Canada thinks it is time to recognise them. They get the Order of Canada or a place on on the Sidewalk of Fame but really they just disappear once again back to their preferred place of living which is definitely not Canada.

When I was in England - though everyone thought me American or a throw back Irish guy - I was proud to be Canadian but never did I think that I would ever deserve recognition. There are far too many people who stuck it out and continued to make this land a respected place on the world mini-stage. So I say - piss off all those who only "get" rather than really "give"; quite possibly including myself.

Goodness me that felt good.

My brother also advised me that, even knowing it would break my little heart, we don't have Bank Holidays in Canada. He can be cruel. Regardless the banks were closed yesterday so I felt a little better about that. Mind you doctors, plumbers, electricians, garages weren't working either. Do they all work for the banks?

As always
P & A x