A Class Act

Thursday, August 30th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

Do I smell like whiskey? Yeah, I had a little accident at work today. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t drown my troubles with a couple of belts.) I knocked a pint of whiskey on the floor. As I watched it fall, I thought, “At least it’s plastic, so it won’t break.” I was so naïve. Did you know that plastic caps explode when dropped? Well, consider yourself schooled. The cap flew across the room and hit the wall, while the amber liquid made a puddle on the floor. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t dumped Pepsi on it…the floor likes its whiskey straight.)

So I met a nice couple from New Jersey tonight. They got a kick out of our loonies and toonies. I thought I was being charming as I explained the names of our Canadian money…until I tripped on my shoe lace and did a funky sort of chicken dance. (Klutz, thy name is Shannon. Funny, Dear Bloggary.) At least I left them with a silly story about this clumsy Canadian who smelled like whiskey. Yeah, I’m a class act. I wonder if they blogged about me.  Hmmm.

That’s it for tonight, Dear Bloggary.  This whiskey girl needs her beauty sleep.





Wednesday, August 28th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

So, I went to The Merb today, all by my lonesome. I decided to make it an adventure, so I took the back roads. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t take a map or GPS. I know how to get there.)

I decided to go up to Green Hill to take some picture from the look-off (of which I already have thousands) before heading to the beach, because I have a photo obsession. I didn’t bother to “Google Map” the directions to it like I did for my trip to Walton, because I’ve been to Green Hill before, (as a passenger) . It couldn’t be that hard to find, right? Well, it wouldn’t be for those who are not directionally challenged. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I know you’re not surprised I got lost.) I made a left at the Green Hill turn-off, but after that, the confusion gremlins took over. I found every place but Green Hill. I did, however, manage to find my way back to the main road. Win! (No, Dear Bloggary, it wasn’t just a case of shithouse luck that I went in a giant loop.)

The nip in the air was not what most people would call great swimming weather, but I’m not most people. I got to the beach, changed into my bathing suit, and started down the boardwalk. A woman coming the other way said, “You won’t last long down there, it’s freezing. We were only down there for a minute and turned around.”…She doesn’t know me. The cool air just makes it easier to get in the water. And the waves! I was in heaven. The lone occupant of heaven.  (Yes, Dear Bloggary, the whole ocean to myself.) Win!

All in all, it was a great day, Dear Bloggary.



Two’fer Tuesday

I forgot to post last night’s entry, so you get two tonight , for the price of one!

Monday, August 27th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

My goal, today, was to visit the Walton Lighthouse and I achieved my goal, but I think I should have brought a shovel with me on my adventure, for grave digging, (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t murder anyone.)

The dead were along the side (mostly) of the road; two skunks, three raccoons, four porcupines (or parts thereof) and one poor indistinguishable creature. (No, Dear Bloggary, they weren’t clumped together like some sort of strange, animal cult, suicide pact they were in separate locations.)

I also witnessed a scene from a Hitchcock movie, as hundreds of birds descended upon the wires along the road in front of me. I tried telling them to flock off, summer isn’t over, yet, but they wouldn’t listen. And the apples lying all over the ground under the trees confirmed the fact that fall is coming. (No, Dear Bloggary, gluing them back on the trees won’t fool Mother Nature.)

I took more than enough pictures along the bay from Walton and Burntcoat Lighthouses, to Anthony Park and Maitland.

The tide was on its way out, so I walked down onto the rocks at Burntcoat, (Home of the highest tides in the world!) I was wearing my sandals, so I decided it was best not to go down any further than the dry, first level, while the two young ladies behind me ventured out onto the slippery, grassy rocks. I should not have felt as self-satisfied as I did, when one of the girls slipped and fell, and upon getting up…fell again. At the age of fifty, I’ve finally learned my lesson.

That’s it for tonight, Dear Bloggary, see you tomorrow.



Tuesday, August 28th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

I lost my funky big toenail! My big toenail turned black ten months ago, after I dropped a spoon on it. (Yes, dear Bloggary, a spoon.) Mark drops a frozen turkey on his foot, and nothing. I drop a spoon, and it’s Goth  toenail. I was finally able to cut the last of the black off, today! (I get excited over the littlest things.) Of course it waited until the end of sandal season. I might have to wear sandals this winter to show off my nice new toenail.

I went to the movies with my friend L tonight. She was a little stressed, so we decided on a comedy. It was hilarious. It’s the second movie in a row we’ve been to that has shown dangling penises. (No, Dear Bloggery, it wasn’t the dangling penises that made them hilarious. I was just stating an observation.) Although, these penises were very funny…not the penises per se, but the way in which they were used…I mean, the situations in which they were portrayed…(No, Dear Bloggary, they were not porn movies! Honestly! )…as a means of comedy, they worked well. My point is that they were very funny. Oy.

And on that note, I will say good night, Dear Bloggary.



Kidding Around

Sunday, August 26th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

Sorry I missed writing yesterday. I had a date with a dinosaur (several, actually) and old stones, and I was exhausted when I got home. (No, Dear Bloggary, that was not a euphemism for serial dating old men…or Mick Jagger, et al) I went to the Fundy Geological Museum. I hadn’t been there since they renovated, so my hubbie and I decided to take a little jaunt to Parrsboro.

That stretch of road is my all-time favorite. High or low tide, I never get tired of the view of the bay, especial from Lower Economy though to Five Islands. LOVE IT!

The new look of the museum is very child oriented, so naturally, I had to behave like a big kid. When you consider the age of the fossils, I am just a kid. Perception; isn’t it great?.

I was attacked by a dinosaur, (It wasn’t my fault he/she crossed the rope barrier.) but only my hand would fit in his/her mouth. (No, Dear Bloggary, I’m not that big! The dino was small-ish.) I did my Vanna impersonation to demonstrate the giant millipede and its tracks. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I realize I look nothing like Vanna White. Thanks for pointing that out.) I was going to run right over to the motion activated, plush triceratops, but I patiently let the little girl go up to him/her first. (I don’t think anyone saw me tapping my foot.) I felt like a “big girl” as I fed him/her some plastic leaves while patting his/her snout. I dug for fossils in the dirt grid.  (And I found them all, thank you very much!) But the most fun was playing with the dino puppets. (I had to speak for both of them, as Mark was a party-pooper.) The two little girls thought I was perfectly normal;  their mother, however, was probably wondering when I had to be back at the asylum. Mark, surprisingly, seemed unashamed to been seen with me. In fact, he took some pictures.

It’s exhausting being a fifty year old kid!

Not much happened today besides work, Dear Bloggary, so that’s about it for today. Good night.



Panties, Porn and Penis

Friday, August 24th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

I had a great time at the beach (The Merb) today. Beautiful waves! Mark was in for maybe five minutes before his blood crystallized, and Stephie lasted about 15 minutes. (wimps) So, They huddled in their parkas (towels) and toques (straw hats) while I had the time of my life.

I finally decided to put my long suffering family out of their misery, and got out of the water so that we could leave. I stripped off my swimsuit, (Yes, Dear Bloggary, in the change room.) wrung it out, and hung it on the railing while I dug out my clothes.  Of course, having wrung out my swimsuit, there was a pool of water on the floor. I had my underwear inside my shorts, and when I pulled them out of my beach bag…Yup, panties in the puddle. So my choices were, 1. Wear wet undies, 2. Wear wet swimsuit, or 3. Go commando. (No, Dear Bloggary, it had nothing to do with the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. The only explosive was the PG language that I directed toward my Fruit –of-the-looms.) I chose number three, and just so you know, going commando in jeans shorts is not as sexy as you may imagine. ‘Nuff said.

So, back home, I am making gravy for supper, and yelled, “Crap, I forgot to get corn starch.” And in response, Stephie (Who is in the livingroom) comes into the kitchen giggling, “What?” I repeated myself, and she said, “Oh, corn starch. I thought you said porn star.” (No, Dear Bloggary, I don’t regularly bring home porn stars.) Where does she get that dirty mind?

Meanwhile, Mark is looking at the pictures he took while at the beach and he starts giggling. Stephie joins in, so I have to go see what all the fun is. He shows me a picture of Stephie and I in the water. Centered between us is a splash of water from the crashing wave which, apparently to Mark and Stephie, looks like a penis. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I guess the ocean was as glad to see me as I was to see it.) Now you know where she gets her dirty mind. Between the two of us, she didn’t stand a chance.

So, that’s it for today, Dear Bloggary. A day in the life of the Fieldings. With wet panties, porn, and penis.



System Failure

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

Today I learned that eating corn-on-the-cob at my desk is not the best idea. (Wipes down computer screen and keyboard.) I know my computer is on its last legs, but I don’t want to push it into system failure by sprinkling corn juice into it. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t put the corn in a juicer, corn juice is the water and butter that spray from the cob when you bite into it.) But, oooooh, I was so sweet and chin-drippingly good. Worth the mess and kernels caught between my teeth…until I realized we were out of dental floss. (sigh) It should be law that wherever corn-on-the-cob is sold it has to be accompanied by dental floss. I had to go to town anyway, so off to buy floss.

On the drive into town, I passed a dead skunk on the side of the highway. So now I have the song “Dead Skunk In The Middle Of The Road” running through my head. And I don’t know the whole song, so it’s like a record skipping back to the chorus, over, and over, and over, driving me crazy!. Argh!

Skunk smell on the highway, stinky bay over the bridge, and processing plant in town. (deep breathe) Ahhhh, the sweet smells of Truro. At least the farmers haven’t been spreading liquid manure this week. And Clean Harbours has been relatively odour free for a couple of days. Debert to Truro is a cornucopia of stench…corn-ucopia. Corn! Mmmm. Sorry, it was good corn.

I think I’m tired, Dear Bloggary, so I’m going to sign off for tonight.

Sweet dreams…sweet corn… corn fields…Field Of Dreams…baseball…Kevin Costner…Bull Durham. I love that movie. (sigh) I think I have a glitch, Dear Bloggary.  System failure. Brain shutting down. Good night.



Day Trippin’

Tuesday, August 21st, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

It was another beach day! Or rather a driving day with intermittent bouts of swimming.

Instead of one of our usual haunts, we (Stephie and I) headed off toward Northport. We had a vague idea how to get there, but with no map, or GPS – it was in the truck (clunker) with Mark (No, Dear Bloggary, not because Mark needed directions anywhere, but because this great new find of his – above mentioned clunker – has a broken speedometer, and it was the only way to tell his speed.) – it was by guess and by golly. And, by golly, guess what happened? Yeah.

An hour and a half into our supposed hour long trip, we figured we made a wrong turn. We found a beach alright, but not the one we were aiming for. (You know how some people claim to be able to find water by using divining rods? Well, apparently, I’m a rod…for finding beaches.) We were going to swim there, but decided to persevere.

We turned around, (Yes, Dear Bloggary, we were going in the wrong direction.) and two hours into the drive, (we did stop for food) we finally found our destination.

That should have been it, Dear Bloggary, but Stephie says, “Amherst Shore Provincial Park Campground is just up the road, let’s go there instead.” (Her goal is to visit every Provincial park in the province.) So we did. Unfortunately, Amherst Shore Provincial Park Campground does not have a beach. Soooo, back to Northport.

The water was warm, but full of, what I call sea snot. (No, Dear Bloggary, not from whales or dolphins with colds.) It’s small clumps of fuzzy green seaweed that floats around the surface of the water. We swam there for a while, then decide to see what Heather Beach was like. So down the road we go.

Better beach, no sea snot, a little colder.

By this time, it was getting late, and I had ribs (drool) in the slow cooker. So we headed out. We drove along the shore and I said, “We’ve never been to Jost Vinnery, let’s take a peek.” (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I said vinnery. I tried to say vineyard and winery at the same time and it came out vinnery. No, Dear Bloggary, I hadn’t had any vine…er, wine.)

A quick trip there and it was time for home…after waiting in the road construction line up. More car time than beach time, but a nice mother daughter trip.

That’s it for tonight, DearBloggary.