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Other Contributers

Shooting the bull

Down here on The Beach, our daily routine over coffee covers much the same territory as it does everywhere else old toots congregate.

Just the accents are different.

“How y’all doin’ this mawnin’, J.D.,” I asked a native ’Baman (Alabama), lapsing into a drawl he could understand.

“Well, sir, let me tell y’all I’m outta bed, outta debt, and outta jail,” replied J.D. in an accent thicker’n cane molasses in January.

“Ah hear it’s cold up north, whoooeeee,” he continued, wrapping his tongue around words in a way that was marvelous.

A fine kettle of fish (tales)

Down here on the Redneck Riviera, we like to have a good ol’ fish fry every winter.

The local fried grouper is pretty good though it’s just not up to a mess of northern walleye.

With that in mind, Norm and I manage to bring along a passel of fillets each winter and get to lord it over the poor souls who don’t live on walleye waters.

With Norm on skillet detail and me relegated to battering, we all sat down to a massive platter full of golden brown ambrosia and exchanged tall tales over the bounty.

Reasons for being cranky

Ever wonder why seniors are so cranky? Well, we have reasons other than regretting our misspent youth (that’s so far in the past, shrouded in the rose-coloured mists of time, that we generally only remember the goods bits).

No, crankiness pretty much revolves around current events aggravated, no doubt, by politicians or the weather playing havoc with our joints. One of the others is shopping.

Mastering the battle of the bulge

Moose sent me an e-mail the other day claiming that men are deep thinkers—and supported that argument with the hypothesis that the pain of childbirth did not hold a candle to the male equivalent of being kicked in the groin.

A good argument, sure. But since he has never given birth, as far as I know, he needs delve a little deeper into his thinking.

The truth of the matter is men don’t think that deeply. They are, in fact, managed by true deep thinkers—women (or, at least, men that can be trained).

There goes Santa Claus

I originally wrote this in 2007. It is worth a reprint.

Some of our most vivid memories are of childhood events. We old codgers may not be able to remember what we had for breakfast, but can recall every detail of our first Christmas concert.

At my first, I was a bumblebee. We each had cardboard cut-outs we coloured black and yellow ourselves. We held them up in up in front of us and danced in a line across the stage.

It was exciting.

Everything is bad for you

Doesn’t seem to matter what it is you consume or participate in. Sooner or later some study someplace will prove it’ll kill you.

Milk, for example, is great for you. Lots of calcium for strong teeth and bones. Well, apparently not, according to a recent report causes brittle bones.

Skim better than whole with all that butterfat that will clog your arteries? Apparently not. You need that good fat to keep your cholesterol balanced.

Heading south no easy task

Heading south for the winter is quite an involved task.

Packing (or should I say stuffing) the vehicle with every conceivable item requires not only strength, but quick reflexes to slam the hatch without the mound tumbling out.

It takes a full day.

This is further complicated by our detour to eastern Ontario to visit the gene pool, so the whole process has to be repeated before leaving there. By then we are more or less proficient at it.

Evaluating the gene pool

My wife, the Pearl of the Orient, and I have invested a lot of years—and substantial cash—in the gene pool.

With year-end upon us, perhaps it’s time to review those investments and decide which ones should be liquidated.

On the negative column are all those colds that are brought home from school and visited upon visiting grandparents. Could certainly do without them.

Then there is the complete absence of spare change from both my pockets and the top of the dresser. At first I thought it was just the Pearl gleaning my cash, but she always left me enough for coffee.

Christmas treat doesn’t last long

Norm makes really good caramel corn. Sort of like Cracker Jacks—only much better.

Let’s call it Gourmet Crunch. It’s delicious. But we only get it at Christmas because it’s addictive and my blood sugar and dental state simply could not handle any more.

My wife, the Pearl of the Orient, put her order in the other week vowing to restrain herself and to hide the batch from me.

“You know, Norm, what I’d really like is some of your Gourmet Crunch Corn,” the Pearl said. “The grandkids are just crazy about it.

Christmas events in works

December will be upon us soon and with that comes many annual Christmas events, beginning with Emo’s always-enjoyable “Holly Daze” festivities.

The Santa Claus parade takes place on the evening of Dec. 6.

The Emo Legion, meanwhile, will host its “Crafts Galore” on Friday, Dec. 6 from 10 a.m.-4 p.m. and again Saturday, Dec. 7 from 10 a.m.-3:30 p.m.

The tables have been sold out, which means there will be crafts and goodies of all types.

The event also will feature a soup-and-sandwich luncheon both days.