Friday, December 28, 2007


Well, I barely made it through this Christmas in one piece. I've had better ones, and I've had worse ones, but this one was a real mixed bag.
But I shan't waste valuable time complaining.

Let it be said, however, that I may take a wee break from blogging for now, just to settle my head and soul.
I'll always read all your wonderful blogs, and leave pithy (I hope) little comments to let you know I'm hanging about.

All the best to everyone over the remainder of the holidays! And the very best to all in the New Year.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Whimsical Wednesday.

Okay. I just made up 'Whimsical Wednesday'. And there's no guarantee that it'll happen every Wednesday.
In fact, it won't happen next Wednesday at all, what with it being Christmas and all.

But that's the whimsy part. It's when the whimsy strikes. And it may not be on Wednesday's either.

Just so we're all clear on this from the get go.

I'm reading one of my favorite authors at the moment, Robertson Davies. He was Canadian. But now he is dead. Which makes me sad because that means there will be no more of his wonderful books to read.

What I'm currently reading was written in the late forties and early fifties under the nom de plume, Samuel Marchbanks, who is a decided curmudgeon.

I wanted to share.

*Of Lumpism*

"I became involved in an argument about modern painting, a subject upon which I am spectacularly ill-informed; however, many of my friends can become heated, and even violent on the subject and I enjoy their wrangles. In a modest way, I am an artist myself, and I have some sympathy with Abstractionists, although I have gone beyond them in my own approach to art.

I am a Lumpist.
Two or three decades ago, is was quite fashionable to be a Cubist, and to draw everything in cubes; then there was a revolt by the Vorticists who drew everything in whirls; we now have the Abstractionists who paint everything in a very abstracted manner. But my own small works (done on my telephone pad) are composed of carefully shaded, strangely shaped lumps, with traces of Cubism, Vorticism and Abstraction in them for those who possess the seeing eye.

As a Lumpist, I stand alone."

The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks

The Three Musicians

Friday, December 14, 2007

Something for nothing.

The other day I went for dinner with a friend of mine.
She had gone to the washroom when the waitress walked by with a tray of fresh oysters to give to the man sitting behind me.

Leaning back in my chair, I asked him if he knew if they were still serving them. I had thought service had ended at 6:00 and it was just after that.

"They were serving them an hour ago when I ordered them." He replied, sourly.

I laughed, "You would have had a feast faster if you had run down to the beach and picked them yourself!"

"I'll try that next time." He chuckled.

My friend returned to the table and we began discussing dinner options. I mentioned to her that I would have liked some oysters, but they had stopped serving them.

Just as we concluded making our selections, the man behind me walked over with his plate of oysters, 4 left, and presented them to me. He said, "You might as well have these ones, they've brought my entree now and there's no room on my table."

Those oysters were delicious!

My friend laughed at me the rest of the evening. "This kind of thing happens to you all the time, doesn't it."

She's right. It does.

But I figure something has to make up for the tree on the car last month.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Nothin' new.

Nothing of interest to expound upon here, my friends!
Just a note to say, "Hello!"