Life According to lights

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Location: Middle of Nowhere, Northern Ontario, Canada

Sunday, October 29

How I celebrated Carey's 40th Birthday...

I was feeling really bummed out about missing all the fun and festivities this weekend and what better way to cheer yourself up but to go shopping. Look what I bought.

You think I should paint a big #8 on it? *grin*

Side story...Years ago I bought a red Columbia jacket. When my Mom saw it she made an off-hand comment about wanting attention by wearing a bright red jacket. As we were testdriving the car I thought of that comment and wondered out loud to Dave what Mom would think of this choice of car. It's not just red, its "fucking red"! When I called Mom last night to tell her about the car I said we'd bought a 2005 Monte Carlo. The first thing she said was, "And it's bright red too, isn't it." I almost peed my pants laughing. Do I know my Mom or what? I guess that makes it an ultimate DAWmobile!

Tuesday, October 24

Weltek's Dream...the rest of the story

When we last visited Kim's wacky dreamworld, we heard that some strange man had stolen Nolay's pride and joy. I'm sure you're all wondering what became of Deere, John. Word has it he was kidnapped and given a new identity.


Monday, October 16

Jehovah's Witnesses, Dead Hummingbird, and the QPP

Friday night we headed up to the cottage for the weekend. There were plans for a 40th Birthday party on Saturday night and we had friends coming to decorate the place after supper. While Dave got the fire going to warm the place up I picked up some groceries. We had received about 5" of snow overnight Thursday and Friday morning so it was a little sloppy to say the least. As soon as I got there I turned the oven on to make supper. Ten minutes later when I went to put the supper in, the oven was still cold. WTF! I had 20 people coming for a pot luck dinner the next day. This was not good.

Dave spent the rest of the night trying to fix it. We thought it had something to do with the automatic timer because I remember bumping the dial last weekend while cleaning up after cooking the turkey for Thanksgiving. He's a pretty handy guy and after about 4 hours of working on it he was getting a little frustrated so we called it a night. The decorations were up so we made toasted turkey sammiches (for the fifth consecutive day) and went to bed.

Sunday morning the sun came out and things looked good. I started making my contributions to the pot luck (crab dip, nacho dip and pasta salad - and wings that required an oven to cook). Dave headed to town to try and find a solution to the dead oven and take Holly for a haircut. By the time he got back I was cleaning up but still wearing a pair of green shorts and a white t-shirt with no bra. While he was in behind the stove I heard a knock on the door. Who could it be? None of our friends knock on the door. I ran to the bedroom and grabbed my red jacket and went to answer the door. Two women, dressed in skirts carrying briefcases. I knew exactly what they wanted. As soon as she started to pull out her Watchtower pamphlets I told her I wasn't interested. She was good about it and said another time maybe. Sure, when hell freezes over come on back. It was bad enough when I got a telemarketer calling me on the cottage phone, now Jehovah's at my cottage door! Is nothing sacred?

We never did get the oven working but decided that we'd make do. There was the BBQ, the oven in the camper and neighbors who would lend their oven if we needed it. The guests began arriving around 1:30 pm and the party started. One of the guests was out in the porch having a smoke and noticed something hanging off a fishing rod that was suspended from the ceiling. He asked Dave what the hell he was trying to catch using a dead hummingbird for bait. We thought he was joking but when we went to look, sure enough there was a tiny little hummingbird hanging upside down from the fishing rod with his little tongue hanging out. Poor little bastard. He must have got trapped inside and either starved or froze to death. So now we've got a dead oven and a dead hummingbird. No wonder the Jehovah's were at my door.

The party was going well. Lots of laughs, lots of drinks and TONS of food. We made do without the oven and a good time was had by all. We had a campfire going outside and some stayed inside out of the cold. The birthday girl's husband came in from the campfire and was totally hammered. Staggering and babbling and we were all getting a good laugh at him. For some unknown reason, as he was gettting ready to go back outside he picked up the phone and dialed 911 and then hung up. It's completely out of charactor for him and we were all quite surprised. Everyone gave him hell and told him you could get charged for doing that. He was too drunk to care at that point. The phone rang and he picked it up. He spoke french telling the caller that it was an accident and apologized. They asked him for his name and he didn't want to give it so he hung up again. At this point I'm getting a little ansty. He was laughing about it. How stupid did they think he was? No way he was giving them his name he said. Um, ya, like they don't now have MY name and address. I tried to pick up the phone but there was nobody there.

He finally went back outside and I started cleaning up dishes and putting food away. As we were doing the dishes everyone was still shaking their heads about him pulling this bonehead move. Next thing I know, someone tells me the police are at the door. Sure enough, two Quebec Provincial Police are standing in my doorway. This just isn't my weekend. Then I got a good look at the male cop and kind of hoped he'd frisk me and cart me off to jail. Hubba, hubba! He was HOT!!! As I'm trying not to drool he's asking me my name and birthdate. Suddenly I had this awful feeling that the birthday girl might think this had all been a set up and that the cop was really a stripper for her! I couldn't help but picture her coming over and trying to help him out of his bullet-proof vest. That would have been just my luck.

I apologized and said that it was an accident by a drunk and assured him that I wouldn't let it happen again. He was very nice about it and joked around with us a bit and then left with no damage done. He felt pretty embarassed about it the next morning and the birthday girl was pretty pissed at him but I told her not to give him too much of a hard time. I'm sure nobody will ever let him forget it.

This was the third 40th birthday party I've hosted at the cottage in as many years. Each party has had some sort of drama happen. This year we kept saying that it was to be a drama free zone. I guess someone didn't get the memo. *snicker* Anyone have a 40th birthday coming up? Want me to host the party?

Wednesday, October 4

We Were The Champions!

I've been waiting to post my recap of the baseball tournament until I got a copy of the team photo wearing the jackets we won but it still hasn't found it's way to me so I'd better get this down before I forget all the details.

As I said before, I hung up my ball cleats and glove about 6 or 7 years ago after about 20 years of slo-pitch. My last couple years were riddled with injuries and then my Dad got hit above the eye while pitching in a family game and I really started losing my nerve. For years I had played 3rd base and pitched where good reactions are essential to avoid serious injuries. So it was with great fear that I stepped out onto the ball field again.

I had stayed away from the ball field completely for the first couple of years and this summer I started going to watch a few games and had the feeling that I really wanted to try it again. It looked like so much fun. My friends Nicky and Howie played on a mixed team and they were going to put a team into a nearby tournament and asked if I would mind being a spare. I agreed but kept saying that I didn't want to be counted on to play all the games because I didn't know if I was still GOOD at it. And I hate doing things I'm not good at.

We went to the ball field a couple nights prior to the tournament to see if I could still hit, run, catch and throw. The first practice I was HOT! I was hitting and throwing like I'd never stopped playing. Until the muscles decided that they really preferred to be lazy and decided to revolt. The second practice was so much less spectacular. I could hardly lift my arm above my shoulder let alone throw the ball. At this second practice they told me that they needed me to play full time on the weekend and being the giver that I am, I said I'd be there for them.

Saturday morning dawned, scratch that, I had to get up BEFORE the dawn, a foggy mess. Our game was at 8am and we had to be there a half hour before the game. Well, at least those of us who take rules seriously had to be there half an hour early. I left home shortly after 7am and found my way through the fog to the field. The good thing about following rules is that you get a great parking spot. The rest of my team showed up at 7:50am. I spent the time stretching and trying to psych myself up for what was to come.

My first at bat was scary. I stood in the on-deck circle wondering WTF I was thinking when I agreed to play. At least there was nobody in the stands to laugh at me. I stepped up to the plate and let the first pitch go by. It was three pitch, which means that you pitch to your own team and only get three pitches, so letting a good one go can be dangerous. I needed to settle in and get ready. The next pitch was good so I swung hoping to at least get it past the pitcher. Imagine my delight when it headed out into left-centre and not into anyone's glove. In hindsight I may have been better off if it had ended up in a glove. It would have saved me large amounts of pain.

At the crack of the bat I tried to launch myself toward first base but realized that I had to crawl out of the hole that previous batters had dug at home plate. The ground was soft, like running on a beach. Now I've never been a particularily speedy runner. I'm built for comfort, not speed. *grin* I ran as fast as I could to first and made it there safely. Somewhere along the way I felt a burning pain in my left cheek. As I stood there waiting for them to put in a courtesy runner for me I rubbed by butt and hoped the pain was temporary. When no courtesy runner showed up to run for me I realized that I was going to have to run ALL the way around the bases. During my previous ball career, I'd always been given a runner because of my less than blazing speed. However, on this team, I was not the slowest so therefore, no runner for me.

The batters after me moved me around the bases, one base at a time thankfully, and I ended up crossing home plate. With a still burning butt cheek I grabbed my glove and finished the game. I was completely suprised that I ended up on base with every single at bat. By the end of the first game I was ready for a hip replacement and a soft place to sit.

There was a pancake breakfast across the highway at the senior's hall and the whole team was going for breakfast. I seriously thought about driving over but the teasing was too much so I sucked it up and walked. At the highway they almost had to stop traffic in order to give me enough time to cross two lanes. I seriously considered staying at the senior's hall with my peers rather than going back to the ball field but my pride made me go back for more.

We played three games on Saturday. Each one more painful than the last. During the afternoon game I hit a double and had to run all the way to second without.a.break! Then, as I was standing on second gasping for air, the batter behind me hit a long ball and I ended up having to run home without a mandatory rest break. Talk about your amazing races.

Between the games I sat as much as possible but every once in a while I had to get up and walk so that I didn't completely cease up. It was a blast even though I was feeling every single year of my age. Everyone was telling me how impressed and proud they were that I was playing so well and sticking it out. Bastards. *grin*

We won all our games on Saturday and got home around midnight. Our first game on Sunday wasn't until 10:10 so we got to sleep in a little. After the first game on Sunday morning I was really starting to wish that we could just lose a damned game. We were hot though and were cleaning up on the field. Our centre fielder was unfreakingbelieveable! He has blinding speed and would dive for the ball and pretty well always came up with it in his glove.

There were four local teams playing. We weren't one of them even though we did have some fairly strong ties to the community we were playing in. Even so, for some reason, we were the team that everyone seemed to be cheering against. I don't really understand it. We were a fun team to play against. We didn't argue calls, we weren't rude or obnoxious. We cheered on the opposing team when they made a nice play. Still, nobody in the stands seemed to be cheering for us except Nicky's Mom and Dad. Nicky and I talked about this later and wondered (hoping it wasn't the case) if we were unloved because the team was mostly composed of native players. I have to admit we were a pretty motley looking crew and the team had intimidated me a little before I played with them. But, after playing with them I found them to be a very fun, supportive bunch. I really hope it wasn't the Indian thing.

We ended up having to play three games on Sunday including the final game. By the time I made it through the second game I asked the team if I could just write them a check for the amount they could possible win and we just call it a day. They wouldn't go for it.

I was seriously hurting. My legs felt like jello. I was giggling all by myself about silly things. I was so tired and sore. But every time I went up to bat I felt a little better and hit that ball as far as I could.

We won the final and none of the fans came by to congratulate us. Oh well, we won and they didn't. *giggle*

The team was a fun bunch. They scared me a little before I got to know them but they were all so encouraging and supportive that they made me feel like part of their family. I'm glad I did it. It was something I would have always wished I'd done if I had wimped out. With that being said, my cleatless feet are now planted firmly on the retired bench.

For sale...

One well used right handed ball glove, one bloodstained right handed batting glove, one pair of size 8 cleats and numerous bats and ball bags.