Category: Certainties

Nerine Lily

Here’s the reveal on the technology stack we’re constructing at samoyeddogs.  And, as always, a reminder the site has nothing to do with dogs.  You know the ones I mean. One day it could have something to do with them, it’s always a possibility, but not today or just about any other day.  We’re holding to that for now, but images of these cuddly, creepy white dogs keep filtering in.  Make me crazy.

Nerine bowdenii
Nerine bowdenii

Nerine is such a lovely name.  Sweet little Nerine.  She blooms in the fall.  I think Chuck Berry wrote that one.  And they’re so pink.  This thing’s been riding me for months.

It’s the reaction you get when you see something for the first time that’s so incredible and beautiful.  And you didn’t know it exists.  It’s tough when you’re so smart because you’ve seen everything.  The amazement and incredulity and gob-smacked-ness, why, there’s just no end to it.  And the cliché meter is going, “That could be a good thing.”

Late Breaking 'Typhoon' rose
Late Breaking ‘Typhoon’ Rose

Gardening must be so much fun.  I wish I knew something about it.  The man said I could stay as long as I want and I did!  It’s great.  It’s October and the old girl’s got a lot of fight in her yet.  The colours around us are to laugh about.

Supposedly the nerine lily isn’t even a lily.  South African origins.  The name may have been derived from the Nereids of Greek mythology.  You know.  Those little sea nymphs that used to swim around with Poseidon, himself a figment of the imagination.  As if it matters.  And then it’s Halloween.  It’s great.

DSCN0446Garden beauty courtesy CS Nicol

 

I Think That Went Fairly Well

Makes a nice change. The Neo-Cons take a whupping and it is to be hoped we can see the last of some things, and hear the last of some things.  If they took a whupping the NDP took a worser.  Too bad in a way, but I think a fine majority of Canadians were determined to get rid of something that had been troubling them for some time.

Like unethical, stupid, low, ignorant, irresponsible, gross, lying, tasteless politicking.  Seeing the last of all that may be a bit much to hope for, but this thing was definitely all about you, dog.  I hope we helped you with your process.  Thank you.

The Neo-Cons got 99 seats.  They’re going in the right direction which is down.  They can go back to the play-pen with some new leader and oppose stuff.  But they won’t have the power to kill stuff or to bull-doze through highly questionable stuff.  Postmedia News showed itself to be an ass.  The Globe&Mail wasn’t much better.  Runnin scared and the question needs to be asked, “Why?”

IMAG0721This word “base” for instance.  Can we lose that one now?  “Playing to his base.”  His base.  Playing to his base base as in low, witless and uninformed?  “The base”.  Screw the base.  It’s a stupid cliché.  It sounded stupid the first time I heard it and it still sounds stupid so why don’t you TV and newspaper people dump it.  Do it now.  Thank you.

“Clearly” is another one.  When a politician says “Clearly”, as in “Clearly, I am not a proto-fascist”, or some such, it’s anything but clear, sisters and brothers.  Can we can, dump and extirpate “clearly” now?  Clearly a base is something to try to reach on the field of play.  That’s it.  Thank you.

So now the honeymoon is on.  It won’t last long.  Justin Trudeau demonstrated that he really wanted the job.  He wasn’t just kidding around.  It’s a tough job.  He’s way cooler than the guy he’s replacing.  And he’s got integrity on his side.  Let’s hope it stays there.  That could be…  it just might be…  awesome.  It’s a tough job.  Thank you.

Trudeaumania

You don’t hear much about mania anymore.  The word’s out of fashion although the phenomena isn’t.  People still go crazy for stuff.  For people.  Animals.  Things.  Anything.  Depends on the mood.  And if the mood says mania, mania it is.

Fort Langley’s a nice town.  Nice little town.  There’s a fort there, a replica of the 1830s and it’s worth a visit if you’re in the area.  That’s probably how Justin Trudeau’s father felt when he landed in a helicopter on the grounds of the Fort in the year Nineteen-Hundred and Sixty-Eight.

He came out of the sky riding shotgun in a Bell 47 and whup-whupped down to an insane hoard of flag waving people.  A lot of kids in the crowd.  It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and everybody seemed to be embracing the mania.  A smallish version of the flag had been handed out and it was a big fluttering and flapping and screaming and fainting as Trudeau Sr. exited the chopper and came straight to the mic.

As a small, fur-bearing baby rodent I was concerned about getting stomped in all this happiness and euphoria.  Canada’s PET was headlining the Liberal federal election campaign.  Oh my, Grandma said.  This guy’s hot.

I quite liked Pierre Elliot Trudeau.  We had a small TV in our burrow and although it’s going back to before, properly speaking, I was a foetus, I remember seeing him on Front Page Challenge.  Are you kidding me?  He was Justice Minister in the Lester B. Pearson government.  In the what?  Who?  Scrunch up your face and say, “He what?  What kinda crazy-bacon stuff this dude been smokin?”

I digress.  Remember when people used to do that.  Digress?  No?  Forget it then.  PET and his team won the election.  You don’t have to take my word for it.  It’s in all the history books and is recorded in old cave paintings near Ottawa, Ontario or somewhere.  Not sure.  Nothing’s gonna change that today or any other day.  There’s an election on.  Federal election.

I’m thinking, keep driving that into my skull so I durns’t forget.  It’s important.  Monday’s the big day.

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