TubaOrNotTuba

Family dining, in our neighbourhood, is evolving. This evening, our weeks and weeks of waiting were over. Finally. A chance to get our fill of the uncle, grandpa, mama, insufferable teen… a new A&W, within easy driving distance. The Quiznos monopoly (on that stretch of ring road) has ended. Pictures on the wall, of long, long ago. Huge (huge!! mugs of root beer. And in a nod to change, the cutest little fryer baskets, made of metal, to hold the onion rings. All the other fast-foodies are condemned to playing catch-up with their ketchup.

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This time yesterday, the government was en route to reducing military expenses by cutting hazardous duty pay. This time today, the minister has denied that news story. He has laid the blame for a poor policy shift on the shoulders of some unnamed civil servants. Pardon my heightened sense of disbelief. In what parallel universe do the civil servants make policy decisions?

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When asked to check out something on a neighbouring iPad, I discovered that my fingers don’t have the magic ability to change from screen to screen. A “fail” grade on the personal device that is supposed to be “so easy, anyone can use one”. As a result, I have been threatened with no apple for Xmas (although oranges are still possible). Whew!

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Some headlines make me pause. Things like “Police Officer Injured In Anti-police Brutality Protest”. Try and sort that one out, while distracted.

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The calendar belies the real state of climate change. Think about it. With ten days to run before equinox, the winter has almost run its course. Temperature today: 10C. In the forecast: 50mm of rain. Not 50cm of snow! The odds of a St. Patrick Storm: dropping quickly. The driveway: already showing pebbles. All positive.

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Two possible titles: “I don’t get it”, or “Warfare is a young man’s game”. On the TV screen, something involving running through an urban park, with background sounds of gunfire. Lots of gunfire. And on a regular basis, the screen flashes red, and things seem to reset. And we’re back to running through the park. Or the subway. It changes.

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Some jobs are just so good that you can’t imagine anyone giving one up. Lodging, salary, transportation, a good pension plan. Fixed for life, as they used to say. In the case of the Canadian senate, it used to be for life. A textbook example of a sinecure. Go ahead, look it up. And today, someone with one of those top jobs in the world did quit, climbed into a helicopter and flew away. The man with almost no name. The Pope.

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When the year ends (and begins) with a giggle, that’s a good thing. Here in Quebec, we have a television tradition called Bye-Bye, where a team of almost epic quality puts together a retrospective of political and journalistic humour. Some years… the harvest depends on the grape. This year, the quality is amazing. I watched it last night, and I’ll watch it again this evening. That good!

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The only answer is to quote someone else: Great Big Sea said it for me.

And I say way-hey-hey, it’s just an ordinary day
and it’s all your state of mind
At the end of the day, you’ve just got to say,
it’s all right.

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The phone rang the other day. MY phone, which distracted me from other things like (just about anything you can imagine). You see, several months / billing periods ago, I joined the smartphone generation. And several hundred dollars later (it goes with the territory), I’ve learned that the cellular providers do not forget their customers. Email messages. SMS (it stands for something something something). A phone call! Even one day is too many when your bottom line depends on selling minutes.

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