Scented Socks And Dolly Parton Wigs

Friday, September 7th.2012

Dear Bloggary:

I love fall. (No, Dear Bloggary, I love fall, not falling. My klutziness has nothing to do with it.) Autumn is my favorite season; the air, the colours, my birthday. It just makes me happy.  The air has had that crisp, cool smell to it that is invigorating.  (Yes, Dear Bloggary, crisp and cool can be smells.) And I can feel it coming. (Fine, Dear Bloggary, I can smell it coming.)

Speaking of smells, the smells of fall are much better than the smell of rum I had on my socks most of the day, yesterday. (No, Dear Bloggary, I wasn’t wearing rum scented socks, I broke another plastic bottle at work. At least this time it was just a half pint of rum, instead of a pint. They are just not making plastic caps the way they used to.) Between the broken wine bottles three weeks ago, broken case of beer a couple of weeks ago, and these two latest incidences committed by yours truly, people are going to start thinking I’m an alcoholic, as I wander around smelling like booze all the time. (No, Dear Bloggary, I don’t dab it on like perfume, it’s a consequence of cleanup and backsplash aftermath.) The boozy paper towels in the garbage can don’t help, either.

I just received notification that I’ve been offered a part in the play for which I auditioned on Tuesday! I will be playing the part of Truvy in “Steel Magnolias.” (Yes, Dear Bloggary, the part Dolly Parton played in the movie. No, Dear Bloggary, I know I don’t look like Dolly Parton. I don’t have to, I’ll be playing Truvy, not Dolly Parton…but don’t put that blond wig away just yet. Hmmm.)

Between rehearsing for “Steel Magnolias” and writing the script for the Village Follies next dinner theatre, my free time will be limited, but I’ll try to keep in touch, Dear Bloggary.

‘Till next time, good night.


Beep, Beep!

Tuesday, September 4th, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

What a busy day! The roadrunner was at it again. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I am referring to myself, not the cartoon character.) Stephie and I high-tailed it to Lunenburg today. (No, Dear Bloggary, I don’t really have a tail, and neither does Stephanie…yes, Stephie did, if you count her pony-tail. Funny you should mention pony tails.) While there, we took an historical horse and buggy ride around the town. It was great fun, but we got a belligerent horse (Frank). Apparently, he has a crush on one of the other horses, (Charlie) and when our driver (Lisa) made him stop to have a drink, Charlie passed us, and went around the corner. When Frank started up again he wanted to follow Charlie, but Lisa wouldn’t let him. (It’s not confusing, Dear Bloggary, keep up.) So, Frank started whinnying and clomping. Lisa apologized for him, and I told her not to worry, it was just his version of stomping his feet up the stairs and screaming into a pillow for not getting his way. (No, Dear Bloggary, I never did that as a kid…much.)

After that, we went into the Fisheries Museum. My favorite part was the giant fish tanks. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t jump in…tempting as it was.)

After the two hour drive back, I had to zip into town for my cooking class. I was starving, as I had only eaten a banana all day, and the thought of those fish at the museum was making me hungry. I would even have eaten a roadrunner, or Charlie the horse. (No, Dear Bloggary, I wouldn’t eat Frank, he’s my friend, now, and friends don’t eat friends…isn’t that a rule?) But I didn’t eat, horse, or fish, or roadrunner, I ate a tofu dish, and it was delish!

Finally, I auditioned for a play; Steel Magnolias. I love the story. Having a diabetic daughter, it touches me on a personal level. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I have my fingers and toes crossed that I can be a part of this production.)

That’s all for tonight, Dear Bloggary. It’s been a long day. Goodnight.



Close Encounter Of The Celebrity Kind

Sunday, September 2nd, 2012

Dear Bloggary,

I had my first close encounter of the celebrity kind, today, if you don’t count local celebrities, (Some of whom are friends of mine.) or politicians…Or Lenore Zann, (who is both actress and politician) because we went to school together…Or Jonathan Torrens, who has attended two of my dinner theatre productions, but with whom I’ve never spoken. (Okay, Dear Bloggary, it wasn’t my first celebrity encounter. Sheesh. But she is the biggest.)

Anyway, as I was saying, a celebrity came through my check-out, this afternoon. I recognized her voice, and when I looked up, there was Anne Murray. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t ask her what she has against wind turbines. Although, Mark seemed to think that being at work, with a large line-up of customers was the perfect opportunity to get into a political argument.  Good thing he doesn’t work with the public.) And the first thing I thought upon seeing her wasn’t, “Hey, her song Snow Bird was the first song I learned to play on Ukulele, in elementary school” it was, “Wow, she’s a lot shorter in person…and not as young as I remember.” (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t tell her she was a little old lady, I just thought it.)

I conducted myself in a professional manner, but the look she gave me when I asked for her autograph, er, signature on her credit slip made me smirk. (No, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t keep it to sell on Kijiji.) I’m just glad I didn’t start singing Snow Bird in front of her. That would have been embarrassing. I probably would have forgotten some of the words. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, I just went through all the words in my head, and I remember every one of them. Damn! Opportunity missed.)

At least I now know that in the event of another celebrity encounter that I can guarantee that I would keep my cool. (Yes, Dear Bloggary, Johnny Depp is  exempt from that guarantee…and Hugh Jackman,…and the cast of Star Trek…and…well, I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.)

That’s it for tonight, Dear Bloggary. Pleasant dreams.




Friday, August 31st, 2012

Dear Bloggary:

It’s a special night, tonight. Did you see the blue moon! (No,Dear Bloggary, I didn’t drop my drawers in the cooler at work.) Although, some people are calling it the harvest moon, I think blue moon sounds more romantic. Now I feel like singing. “Blue Moooooom, You saw me standing alone…” If it were still visible, I would go out and bay at it. (Redundant? No, Dear Bloggary, that was singing, not baying.)

I thought about performing some ritual in honour of the blue moon tonight, like dancing naked on the lawn, but we settled on having a campfire in the backyard. (That’s right, Dear Bloggary, I didn’t want to traumatize the neighbours, my dancing sucks.) I believe one (or more) of the neighbours was also celebrating the blue moon, as the sweet smell of Mary Jane began wafting through the air. (No, Dear Bloggary, that’s not a women’s perfume.) Combine that with a few drops of rain, and I decided the celebration was over…for now. I’ll dance naked later.

Oh, by the way, I talked with two people today who said they were acquainted with you, Dear Bloggary. (Yes, you can thank J and B for visiting.)

That’s all for tonight. Good night, Dear Bloggary.



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.