Posted on November 5, 2013 under Storytelling with one comment

It was a visit that the young bachelor was dreading.  He was about to meet his future in- laws for the first time and was determined to make a good impression.  Because of his military training, he was a better than average housekeeper; he ironed his own clothing and was decent cook.  His specialty was barbequing, a skill which he had honed to perfection.

As the day of the visit approached, he cleaned his home to within an inch of its life.  The bathrooms were scoured, the carpets vacuumed and he even did a bit of light dusting.  Well trained indeed.

The visit could not have gone better.  His fiancé introduced her parents and it didn’t take long for the conversation to flow.  He was feeling quite pleased with himself and was certain that he needn’t worry about that old adage, “You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression.”

At the conclusion of a delicious steak dinner it was time for dessert and coffee.  Because he was single he owned a high tech, single serving coffee maker but it would take too long to make individual cups.  Instead he opted for his trusty Black and Decker carafe style maker.

His mother in law stood at his flank as he readied himself to brew an 8 cupper.  He retrieved the large can of coffee from the freezer.  She would be impressed that he knew how to keep coffee fresh.  He even used the brown, eco-friendly coffee filters.  He used filtered water kept in the fridge.  If he was going to make coffee, it was going to be done to perfection.

She thought she would be helpful so she lifted the lid of the coffee maker to put in the basket.  And then she halted and there was an audible gasp.

It appeared that the last time he used this apparatus was during basic training many years earlier.  The filter had completely disintegrated and the grinds, covered in fungus, were a hideous grey green color.    It looked like a toxic waste site, which is exactly what it was.

An awkward silence ensued.

He thought about a possible explanation but chose to remain silent.  He removed the offensive remains from the basket and left it to sit in warm soapy water.

He proceeded to make several individual cups of perfectly brewed coffee and there was no mention ever made of the incident again … until after the wedding.

The gift opening ceremony was held and the usual array of wedding gifts was unwrapped and fawned over.  They included cash, which is the preferred gift of most young couples starting out.  There was only one envelope left in the basket that held all the cards.  The groom carefully opened it and a broad grin crossed his face.

It was from his mother in law.  Her note said it all.  “Bad coffee is grounds for divorce.”  Attached was a gift card to Starbucks.

Posted on November 4, 2013 under Monday Morning Musings with 2 comments

Don’t you just hate it when someone sends you a picture like this? Just wanted you to know that we arrived safely in Florida.

I wrote two stories yesterday and both of them have a coffee theme. Our society’s addiction to caffeine is quite stunning. Most people simply can’t function without it…. especially in the morning. I saw a great t-shirt which said the following: ” I’ve had my coffee. You may now speak.” Just about sums it up, wouldn’t you say? The first story is called “Grinding to a Halt.” My son in law is involved in this one. The other one is called ” In Flight Safety.” Hands up, and be honest… how many of you actually listen to the safety feature speech on an airplane? One of us listens to every word as if it was Moses on the mountain with the tablets. Hint. It’s not me.

I also have two others waiting to be edited. I told you last week about my visit to one of the national banks in a neighboring community. The lady who waited on me will forever regret seating me in the “senior’s chair” at the end of the counter. I didn’t mention her last name in the story. It’s called “The Eve of Destruction.” Those of you of a certain vintage ( 60+ ) will remember the song of the same title back in the mid ’60’s by Barry MacGuire. It was one of the many protest songs popular back then. If you are too young to remember, look it up on Youtube just to get you into the spirit of it.

The other story is a description of “student discount day” at the grocery store. If you haven’t experienced this then you haven’t lived. The only worse experience is being at the pub on a Saturday night with hundreds of first and second year university students. How would I know this? Because I was one of those students forty years ago. The story is called ” Pub and Grub.”

My book is selling very well and is available at these fine purveyors of outstanding literature: Brendan’s, Brosha’s Short Stoppe, the 5 to $1.00 and in Port Hawkesbury at the Fleur de Lis restaurant. ( I was tempted to say restroom but caught myself ). There will be two official launches: Dec.5th. at 7:00 p.m. at the library in Antigonish and Dec.12th. at the Shannon Studio in the Civic Center in Port Hawkesbury at 7:00 p.m.

Have a good week.

Posted on November 2, 2013 under Storytelling with 2 comments

I am not your typical male.  I don’t have a passion for cars.  And, until recently, I knew only the basics of driving a car.  I know where the ignition is located; I can find the steering wheel.  Ditto for the brake, gas pedal and clutch.  I know a vehicle has an engine and four tires.  It goes forward and backward … most of the time.   All of these things I know are true.

I never really thought much about my carbon footprint.  Nowadays carbon offsets and carbon credits are terms as ubiquitous as Kentucky Fried Chicken and Lassie were back when I was a kid.   I wonder if Lassie left a carbon footprint along with a pile of doggy do?

My first car was a Volkswagen Beetle which I bought for about the same price as I paid for an iPad mini recently.   It was a great car and you really had to squeeze the nozzle to get $3.00 worth of gas into it.  I lived in Victoria at the time and alas, my “bug” met its sorry end one weekend when I flew back to Nova Scotia to visit my family.  Apparently my car was smashed into; not once but twice in a matter of days while it sat outside on the street in a quiet neighborhood.  When I got back after my trip, I had to search high and low before locating the crumpled remains in a junkyard.

Hybrid vehicles are now all the rage.  A friend of mine and I were discussing hers the other day.  She had had her eyes on the Prius for quite a while.  Her husband was nonplussed about her choice but humored her nonetheless as they took one for a test drive in a neighboring town.  After many years of marriage, humoring your wife is as important as breathing.   When they finally decided to purchase the vehicle and it came time to drive it home, she was too nervous and her husband reluctantly took the wheel.  By the time they had pulled into their driveway she had to pry the steering wheel from his hands.  Pry us from the Prius, as it were.

A few years ago, we accidentally rented a Prius at the airport in Tampa. This was the substitute for the “four door sub-compact” vehicle that we had booked.   I didn’t know anything about Hybrids at the time as my subscription to Motor Trend magazine had run out … around the same time as my subscription for PC World ( that’s “personal computer” and not Progressive Conservative ).  Actually, the only subscription I pay for these days is Chirp magazine for our granddaughter.

We picked up or keys and struggled with too much luggage, a common problem on these southern jaunts.  We approached the parking lot where our rental car was waiting.  We loaded up the trunk, gained entry and sat.  The car would not start.  I mean, even I, as mechanically challenged as I am, can start a car.   Fearing a battery failure we returned to the car rental desk, a good ten minute walk.  We walked away sheepishly when we were informed that the car started by pressing a button.

Somewhat flustered, I followed the instructions, waiting to hear the familiar throaty sound of an engine purring.  Nothing.   Nada.   I stepped outside the vehicle and the thought crossed my mind that a good swift kick might get things going; another kind of footprint.   Just then, a knowledgeable and kind soul came by and, a few minutes later, I slipped the car into reverse and we quietly exited the parking lot.

A friend of mine owns several antique VWs.  I’m thinking of paying him a visit to see if we can work out a deal.