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Monday Musings

Well it was a busy weekend. On Saturday Alex and I headed into town to attend the Shark Scramble. Here the ostensible attraction was a weigh in of a bunch of sharks some fisherman had caught for the competition; I found that part kind of gross. Some of them seemed to have their intestines spilling out of their mouths as they were hoisted tail first by a cherry picker. The locals say there are too many sharks and they have to be culled and whatnot but sorry, I can’t help but feel a little bad for those sharks. Alex took a pic of one:

Shark Scramble

Shark Scramble

So in an attempt to divert my focus from the slaughter at hand I started examining some of the “local flavor” and came to a stunning realization. I shall be pitching this to the Nova Scotia board of tourism as a new trademarked phrase for their literature. Nova Scotia: land of the free t-shirt! The fashion on display was hardly up to the standards of so many of you fine, suave readers. I have some prime examples of the styles these folk chose to display but I can’t figure out how to get them off my BlackBerry in the land that cell phone towers forgot so you’ll just have to wait with baited breath for those.

It was super depressing but then I found a store called “The Wool Shop” and bought 5 hats and a fabulous trench coat. Thus, I felt better.

On Sunday I did a significant amount of email pow-wowing with Sentia folk and helped Alex wrap up an application for some strange director thing (directors always have to submit weird applications that ask broad, uninteresting questions – singing 16 bars and hearing “NEXT!” is so much easier!).

Later, we had a lobster bake with the community and I did a ton of dishes. There were some twins there, infants ya know?, and one of the twins was bald which was unfortunate. I felt bad for it and kept trying to amuse it until the mother shooed me away. The Burns’ dog, Charlie, was very naughty and tried to eat things off the tables while my dog, Jasper, was a perfect little pooch who sat on my lap while I ate and delighted the crowd with feats of wonder including prompted sitting, barking, and juggling of fiery pins. Everyone loved it!

After the real nice clam bake, Julie Jordan and I sat down to do a little cinema viewing. We tried to watch The Good German yet again and yet again fell asleep 30 minutes in. That movie’s boring, yo.

Whats SO not boring is that we have a bat in the house. Its swooping and slamming around. Awesome! I love bats because they eat my arch enemies: mosquitoes. So while everyone runs around with brooms and vacuum cleaners, I contentedly sit with my mosquito net tent over my bed and read a nice long hardcover book. With every swoop I know delicious, disgusting mosquitoes are being super nova-ed into his furry, creepy belly. He’s alright by me.

Speaking of books, I’ve gotten quite a bit of reading done here. This weekend I read The Education of an American Dreamer by Peter G. Peterson. Pete Peterson started Blackstone and then left and sold a bunch of shares for a billion dollars. He did some other stuff too. He’s Greek-American and has been married three times. And currently he’s married to the chick who started Sesame Street – which is just plain awesome. I know of him only because of his grandchildren, one of whom has risen to some level of fame. PC Peterson is pictured in the book with the other grandkids, lovingly surrounding their grandfather. He’s handsome and well dressed. These qualities are displayed in some magnification on PC’s current “reality” television show, NYC Prep. PC is meant to be the detestable one because he’s petty and mocks everyone. But he wears fabulous eyeliner and is fussy about his hair and also clearly very smart and crafty so I like him. I’ve only seen two episodes of the show but its clear to me he is very much in on the joke and establishing a nice little bit of celebrity for himself, celebrity which he will leverage later for book deals, his own show, and a line of designer impostor body sprays called “Passionate, by PC.”

So we’re outta here tomorrow, taking the Prius and dog and baggage and painkillers all aboard the CAT high speed hydrofoil ferry to Maine where we will spend the night and then head to Boston on Wed morning for my follow-up with Dr. Zeitels.

Ahoy U.S. of A.



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  1. Mommy Wheelan
    August 18th, 2009 at 13:29 | #1

    OK how can you speak (oops sorry there)write of bats without a nod to yours truly who suffered the slings and swoops of bats on no fewer than four occasions before my landlord (“Doubting Thomas”) agreed to pay for bat control. Evidently they can fit anywhere and are never seen – leaving police and animal control personnel to make those odd faces at the one who claims to have seen them! Other than me, MOK (morbidly obese kitty) was the only one who could speak to (oops there I go again!) the psychological ravages inflicted by a swooping creature of darkness. Of course you may know too well whereof I speak.
    And btw, sharks are very close to membership in that exclusive club – endangered species- partly because of the love of shark fin soup. But then again a monologue like Robert Shaw’s in Jaws will enliven that discussion.

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