the new bird morley

Since I've arrived home, from Ireland, I've been moving around a bit. I took my time moving from Pearson airport to the other dublin. I made a road trip out to Alberta and toured around for two weeks, then took my time moving from Hamilton airport to Dublin again. I've been working in St. Ratford and crashing on couches of friends and family, and visiting and moving and visiting some more.

I've been having a pretty sweet time, people have been very accommodating and very patient and have never told me that I've worn out my welcome.

I hope I haven't, and I hope I never do.

I just got a new cell phone number. The old one I had, turns out, is long distance from St. Ratford which, as it turns out, is the latest city I am spending my days in. I am tending bar on most weekends, a shift or two through the week, and spending the other hours at my day job and sleeping.

Also going to buck and does, but that is another, less important to this story line, story.

So I got a new cell number, which I just told you, and if you been talking to me over the past six months since my arrival back in Can. I've likely told you this several times.

Let me explain.

I arrived in T.O and went to the skydome because i was scared of the big country that i no longer knew and needed to be somewhere that I felt comfortable.

So i went to the monument that I, and the world, knew best. There, as I waited for a good friend of mine, I purchased a SIM card and joined a one year commitment with Canada.

I wanted to pay-as-i-went, she wanted me to pay-more-than-i-should and I left the story paying much more than that.

I had my first Canad'ian cell number in over a year; a T.O. local number.

I moved around for about two weeks with a T.O. number, visiting friends and family, crashing on couches and not wearing out my welcome.

I arrived in the city, and picked up a local number.

Number number 2.

I was happy at home for about a month, got restless and decided I might like Edmonton so I got local number for there.

Number number 3.

Getting home two weeks later meant another local number, which would be one more than the last number number.

Today I was talking with rogers for the third time in three weeks. The first time I was on hold and got a call from Greg who was announcing the birth of his new baby girl. The second time rogers hung up on me and the third time I got a new number.

that makes five.

This one is a St. Ratford local because ... well, you can remember what I wrote above.

I sent out a mass text to 49 people in my phonebook. It has been a great day because I've heard from so many people who I haven't heard from in a long time. I think I might change my number every month.

"You do that anyway!" shouts drunk guy from the crowd.
"shut up, you. I have a blog, you don't. I'm funny, you're not. Shut the eff up and don't bother me at work."

Below are the responses that I've received today so far and I'll add to it as, or if, more come in.

Think of this as visiting facecrap.com

Enjoy,

--b

sent: 9 of 49 delivered
"I'm the new Bird Morley"

received:
Leanne: "Again!"
Mike C: "Pardon"

sent: "i said: I'M THE NEW BIRD MORLEY"

recieved:
Ms Maloney: "we don't want any"
*Greg: "finally, we r rid of the old BM!"

*who, as it turns out, isn't the same greg that just had his baby

Dave H: "and i am the improved wendel clark. lol"
Bre: "that was three of the weirdest texts i've ever recieved. lol. cant wait to meet the new Bird face to face. lol"
2525: "destination landline. reply E to rogers txt 2 landline msg in Eng"
2525: "destination landline. reply E to rogers txt 2 landline msg in Eng"
Uncle Mark: "Neils Bird?"
Mandy: "stop getting new numbers"
o - colter: "who Bird Morley"
aunt mary: "thx Bird. what area code is 226?"
heatger work: "Bird Morley?"

sent: "it's alright, i don't know my co-workers have last names either"

recieved
heatger work: haha mines [last name]. nice to meet ya lol"

sent: "likewise, see you on the weekend"

received late on March 30th:
bobbi p: "lol okay"
evan: "who is this? <.evan.>"
dinker: "what is that suppose to mean"
bob smith: "improved?"
craig: "what?"
Mike C: "Will the real Bird Morley please stand up?"
Greg: "let me know ahead of time next time u r in town"

*which is when i realized it wasn't the same greg who just had his baby

katie: "Just got your msg the Bird Morley. Congrats!"
eli: "are nothing"
eli: "not"
eli: "+1."
The Kid: "I did get your txt, but i didn't text you back because it is costly under my plan"

in person, late evening, april 1st
GeeVee: "did you send me a text saying `i`m the new Bird Morley`?"

Lost Prizes

I woke this morning and put on my best Irish National Rugby Jersey. A part of me wishes that I was heading to a match, another wishes I was living out of my rucksack and yet another is very glad to be behind a bar in southwestern Ontario.

Not behind a bar tonight though, tonight is an evening for friends. This means spending an evening at the pavilion in Dublin and green beer at a watering hole in Stratford.

Yesterday, the day after the snow has disappeared, I found my hurley ball which marks nearly four months to the day my having lost this very ball in the amongst the evergreen trees on the day before the snow came, and stayed, for the winter.

It was watery and soggy and happy to come home. I could tell by the way it sat quietly next to the heater in the entrance way, slowly warming up and waiting patiently for itself and the ground to dry and be back out playing in the sun and rolling in the dewed grass.

Have a wonderful paddy's day. I'll talk to you again soon.

slainte,

--b

K'Naan on Radio3

We are no longer having the technical difficulties that plagued us for about only fifteen minutes.

Perhaps I am a bit of a dramatic, perhaps I was over reacting by making a post about technical difficulties, perhaps I was over whelmed thinking that I'd never get the layout back to the way it was, perhaps I was lacking sleep or caffeine or those other things that I might have to have in order to think coherently and chronologically.

In the end everything looks the same, and everything is regular; at least in the world of my blog.

In the world outside the blog, which has be very much more alive in the last four weeks.

I have an old friend who is waiting patiently for his wife to give birth to his first born. The youngling was due last Saturday, March 7th, and appears to be very happy and healthy where he or she is.

I am also waiting patiently for the baby to arrive.

I went out for coffee with an old friend on Sunday, and to dinner that night at her mothers. It was a good dinner and it was nice to be off the farm for a short while, even if it meant being on another farm.

I've also developed a love for the cbc radio network. The music you've been listening to while reading this post is courtesy of radio3.cbc.ca and I think it will play every time you view this page. If it does, I'll take care of it and turn it into a link instead.

(which is what i've had to do)

This has been an update of the life of b. Stay tuned for some more entertaining reading in the near future. Also, Mands has learned how to create pod-casts; perhaps we might hear a bit more from her soon.

Technical Difficulties

Over the next few hours there will be a many things changing at salutmaman. I hope they are for the better, perhaps only time will tell.

In the mean time please feel free to search the words cartel, hypoventilation or pollok.

We Apologize for the Inconvenience.

*Update*
The operation was a complete success; that is to say stage one was. You're not going to notice anything right away because it'll take a day or so for it to make the switch. I hope to have something more for the unveiling of the upgrades, but alas, for now, I don't.

Sorry for being so vague, but I don't want to ruin it.

And really, in the end, it isn't that big of deal anyway.

(Although feel free to post if you know what it is.perhaps the first person can post something rediculas so that other people don't feel silly about being wrong. perhaps no one will post because no one is reading)

;)

damn

i called ireland again, hoping to talk with roy, and learned that roy was still not there and my irish accent was total rubbish.

i am quite sure i left the guy on the other end of the line wondering who the dumb american was and why he felt it necessary to mimic him.

damn.

(as a favour to a friend i'd like you to follow this link and vote for chris and tash)

missing

i called ireland today, more specifically to the university of limerick, the shelbourne pub and roy, and within moments my irish accent was back.

i miss it.

i chatted with finn for a few minutes, nolan for much more and left a msg for roy on his mobile.

i miss them.

monday i start a new job, basically an executive assistant at a construction company; although that's the name i am giving it, not my boss.

i want to enjoy it, but i want to travel too.

perhaps if i take trips out of the city i can couchsurf instead of stay in hotels.

The Queen and The Silver Fox

While I don't nearly have the tales to tell of new ally and walk ways explored, I do have a few experiences of walking an old one again for the first time in a long time.

As you know, since getting home I've been on the farm. Life has been quiet, a few chores here and there. While we haven't any free range pigs or chickens, and we don't have an old apple tree in the middle of the pasture that I can lay under with my blue jean overalls, no shirt and a bit of wheat grass to chew on and nap beneath my wicker hat, it does, in a more contemporary sense, remain relaxed.

Today I have the house to myself. I've set myself up with a pot of coffee, my guitar to my right, an address book and pad of paper.

I've been seated for three hours and thus far: no letters. Well, none hand written.

But that's beside the point.

I've got back into a bar I worked at six years ago. Working a few shifts on the weekend, making more cocktails than I can remember and at the same time
remembering how different, wonderfully different, it was to work in Cork.

But that's beside the beside the point.

The new bar is the same, essentially. Everything is in the same place it was, the equipment and tables and doors and windows. Even some of the semipermanent furniture, that is to say the regulars, hasn't changed. Just outside my peripherals the other day, well yesterday in fact, I heard two familiar voices ask each other if what they saw was a familiar face.

This familiar face, so they said, had changed a bit, but not overly. beard was grown, new glasses worn and hair cut shorter, but besides all that, the Queen said, I was still the same Bird.

With his english accent, he agreed and we dove into some old memories and quick recap of the missing six years. His grey hair, if he didn't die it, would be
red, or so he claimed. She didn't want to just up and move to Panama because she wasn't sure if she'd like it. I was behind the bar again. It seemed that in
six years nothing had changed at all.

It is a very odd feeling, following the footsteps of a me from before, and I have yet to figure out what it is I am learning about him.

If I figure it out, I'll let you know.

For now, I am awaiting winter to allow for Prince Tourism to ride through town and awaken Sleeping Stratford. I miss the transients, the movers, the
nomads and the travelers. They will come, and when they do I will welcome them with open arms.

So many signs

There were so many signs. I should have picked up on all of them. However hindsight is twenty-twenty and knowing now isn't knowing then.

He approached the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Jagerbombs all around. When just as he was about to order his pint of Guinness, he recognized me.

As he approached the bar I thought to myself how familiar he looked. Just a fleeting moment, a flicker of something, someone I used to know. Perhaps not well, but knew none the less. He ordered his Jagers and then, just as it hit him it hit me.

Craig Kelly I thought. At that same moment he shouted my name.

We shook hands and laughed. Nothing specific, simply thoughts of things.

you were in Ireland, weren't you?
sure, sure I was.
How's Nolan? Did you ever meet up with her
craig kelly doesn't know Nolan i thought. How do you know Nolan? asked I.
St. Columban Soccer stupid. Are you ever going to 'coach' us again?
craig kelly doesn't play st. columban soccer.

Things were making less and less sense, and yet at the same time it was making more and more sense. This old friend, whom I had worked with over the stretch of a few summers between semesters at his father's construction company, was confusing me, though only slightly mind you, more and more.

We'll have to catch up again later, I said. I've got to get back to serving up drinks. Let me buy you a pint though.

I poured off his Guinness, my fourth to be poured in Canada, and shook his hand again.

Good to see you again, Bird.
Good to see you too. I'll be damned if Craig Kelly hasn't changed a lot since I saw him last.

I was cut early that night, only half an hour since my old friend had come up to the bar. I poured myself a cola and joined him and his buddies at their booth in the bar.

These are the guys, my old friend said as I vigorously shook hands with one whom I had never met but was pretending to be old friends with.

We small talked again, for a little while, but it was when I asked about his sister, whom I had gone to elementary school with and whom had just had a child, that my embarrassment, which I had no idea was growing, peaked.

You think I'm a Kelly, don't you, said my friend formally known as Craig Kelly.
Not anymore, thought I.

I took a sip of my cola.

It doesn't bother me, said old friend. But I am not a Kelly, I'm a Culligan.
This is bad, thought I.

I took a sip of my cola.

You didn't know who I was when you bought me that beer, did you.
Well, that's not entirely true, thought I. I thought I knew you.

With an awkward smile I finished my cola.

Well Culligan, (because at that time I did not remember his first name to be Ben) I can't say that I have been more embarrassed. Ever.
It doesn't bother me, really Bird. It doesn't bother me at all. It still was great to see you.
It was great to see you too, Culligan, and I hope to see you again.

Though next time as Ben and not as Craig Kelly.

I left through the back door.

2009, Day 3

So here's the deal.

The holidays have come and gone, and I've survived them both. We got snowed in a bit too, and, again, we survived them too. New Years came and went, and, as you might have noticed the trend, i survived.

It seems that with all the planning and stressing and thinking and shopping and walking and drinking and watching of movies that no matter how much you plan to start earlier and earlier each year with everything that needs to go on to make a successful holiday season that it still only ever lasts fifteen minutes.

I am tired. I need a vacation, though from what I don't quite now.

I have started working a bit. It's for a neighbour just up the road who has a job in Toronto building a house. He called me up to give him a hand on a weekend job, a Saturday to be exact which I would have complained, what working on a Saturday and all, except that Saturdays only count for people who work. After he called me up for the weekend job he asked that I help out a bit more, and after I helped out a bit more I ended up more or less semi permanent.

These things just seem to happen that way, and it made for a nice end to the holidays to be back on a job site, with a bit of purpose in mind and some cash coming in to pay off what I have left to pay off.

There are a few more tales to tell about my western adventure, which I hope to get to at some point. Thank you very much for tuning in over the past few weeks even though there has been nothing to tune in to. There have been a few photo's posted up on my flickr, which you may not have seen since I made no mention of them here.

With that in mind I will leave you with one of my favourites from that collection.

Happy New Years All!

Dear Blogger.com,

You have a "javascript void error" message appearing on my page. I would like to thank you for letting me know the particulars of the problem, however in the future could you do one thing for me?

Fix it.

Oh, I don't actually mean that. It isn't that big of an issue. I don't really care all that much. I am, however, chuckling a bit at the fact that the message is there in the first place. You see, it might as well say "bake at 450 degrees", "PC Load Letter", or "Coalition Government" as none of them make any sense to me either.

Thank you for your effort though. I do really appreciate it.

In closing, I was simply wanting to add a new widget thingy to the side bar. I hope I get to soon.

--b

**i've taken the widget off this post because it was screwing up the count on my couchsurfing profile page. not to worry, the one in the side bar here will remain and is working just fine. thanks for everyone who has visited here. cheers, .. --b jan 14, 2009

Calgary, Day 1

So, this should have been posted (not to mention written) on Dec 4th as that was the day I actually got to Calgary from Banff (a post called Banff, Day 1 should have been posted [not to mention written] on Dec 2nd, but we'll talk more about that later).

The bus was quick and painless, as was my meeting a new friend. I did not have to know that she had come from Vancouver that morning, some eight hours ago, to know she was stir crazy and hungry for conversation. I was simply hungry and gladly accepted he offer of a clementine while she talked my ear off about nothing and everything.

There's not much of a story to be told as there wasn't much conversation being had. She was middle aged, married and full of small talk. I smiled, adding words like "yes" and "oh yeah?" whenever I could, which wasn't too often as she had been on the bus for eight hours and a me smiling and eating a clementine.

Janelle picked me up from the bus station, and there's no real story their either. After a hug and a chat we hurried off to see if the car was still parked in the space she was holding for the fire truck, should there have happen to be an emergency. It was a good idea since she was so close to the fire hydrant.

I have a feeling they would have appreciated it.

After spending most of the night trying to decide when it was we had seen each other last, or even written each other, we decided that it was a some summers evening some three years ago in some back yard of some other friend, who's name is Steph, where we listened to other friends talk about mortgages and leases and some other things that were as much out of our league now as they were then.

Laura came home later, from parent teacher interviews, and we had another good laugh over when it was we had seen each other last, or even written each other.

A quick search through me email inbox later would find that Janelle and I had last written each other in oh-six.

We went out for wings, which turned into nacho's and a burger, which, come to think of it, was never going to be wings in the first place, at a pub just up the road from their house, which was conveniently located just up the road from the pub. The server hit on the girls, which we were all very happy about because the girls wanted an in when it comes to patio season and I was very scared that he might have been hitting me. By the end of the evening he had stolen my glasses, called Laura a pretentious beach, asked which one was my girlfriend and still, somehow, we thought of him as a friend.

If you happen past the Ship and Anchor on 17th Ave in Calgary say hello to Kevin for me. Well, use Janelle or Laura's name just in case we were wrong about him.

Yellowknife, Day 1

So I arrived in Yellowknife last night. Leaving Calgary the pilot said getting into edmonton we'd see weather a little better than where were presently where, however failed to mention, let alone warn, the sorts of things we'd feel landing in the great white north.

Welcome to Thirty below, the chill through my nostrils said.
Too bad I never got around to finding that tissue earlier, I replied.
The cold of the north just laughed and said "you South-Western-Ontarians are all the same".

Mary and I, Mary being my aunt and youngest sister of my Dad's, had trail mix, Keiths and several hours of conversation. She got up for work this morning, I searched the house for Claw, the dog of a friends whom she is, and subsequently I am, babysitting, because 11:30, when I woke up, was high time he was let out to the back door.

**whistle**
Claw!
**whistle whistle**
ummm .. claw.

Back upstairs I trudge, fearing the worst and knowing I'd be the one cleaning it up.

hey claw, where are you little guy? I asked the upstairs, as if it, or the dog, could have answered me.

He was tucked into Mary's bed, snuggled into the mess of sheets.

Oh my, I thought. This is not going to be good.

hey claw, how are y-
BIRD!

As I stood in the room making the mess I had feared to find as a result of the Claw, I reflected on a few things: why the dog had replied, why Mary had not made her bed before going off to work and why Mary was not at work but starring back at me from a mess of hair and a splitting headache.

We cleaned up my mess, made some coffee and let the dog out so he could pee on the kitchen and livingroom floor.

Jasper, Day 1

I am on a computer that make it ound like i've got a tuffed up noe. Ret aurred I am quite healthy, it i mearly the keyboard I am uing.

You ee, the "" key doe not work. I could be hitting "ctrl+v" to pate an "" but I can't be bothered right now.

beide, it might be fun to ee if anyone can actually read what I write.

That i if anyone i reading at all.

Japer i beautiful and I am tired. There' been a great deal of hiking and walking and meeting of people, o much that I may need a vacation from thi vacation.

I can undertand why a peron could pend a lot of time here. there' mountian everywhere I look, elk every other block (or at leat a few reminent left by the elk) and floppy eared touque on every head. I'd pot ome picture of the area, except that I haven't taken any yet.

We went out lat night, which wa fun. My host went back to the place we were taying early and I tayed out which wa a good idea until I realized, long after cell phone had been turned off, that I didn't know where thi place wa that I wa uppoed to be taying.

I had, though, made ome friend who where more than happy to give me their couch for the evening; although that didn't change the fact that my ride tomorrow didn't know where i wa, not to meantion that tomorrow morning I would be jut a lot a I wa the night before.

Never have I been a lot a I wa lat night. In any other place I had been I had at leat looked at a map or learned the name of the main treet. I had been riding around in a car for the weekend, ever ince I'd arrived, and not paying attention at all to any direction. Even when I had been driving.

o thi morning I cleaned up my bedroom Rosco' living room and tepped out the door and choe a direction. All I could think about wa hoping my ride wa looking for me.

And then, out of nowhere, or eamingly nowhere, came a familiar little black ford. I had been found and wa going to be alright.

ince then I've got myelf a map and learned the addre of the place I am taying.

At the end of it, however, I had made ome great friend.

Edmonton, Day 1

Nothing much to be said about the city of edmonton. I drove into, and around, the city on thursday, and adventured a little. although the only real adventuring i did was to follow the main arteries of traffic and try to remember which direction south was.

also, trying to remember what the car I was driving looked like. something i didn't think about needing to remember until I stepped out of a shop that afternoon.

I had been picking up a trimmer, you see it was time to tame my beardness, which promted a few smart remarks from fellow shoppers.

"hmm." smiled a mom at the counter, behind me in line. "i don't need to ask who that's all for" making reference to the shaving kit I had assembled.

in the end i did find the car, luckily enough for the panic button, which scared the heck out of a young couple loading up christmas gifts in their trunk in the car next to the one who's alarm I had just set off.

I hid just out of site until they had moved on. boy was my face red.

(I've been in Jasper for the weekend, but more about that a little later)

I did not find any oiler fans to talk to.

Wild Rose Country

The good news is there is an unlocked internet network that i've tapped into. the bad news is i am hungry and don't know edmonton in the least bit.

i have been given my hosts care for the day as she goes off and makes money to buy things. i don't know how it is she has entrusted me with her manual shift car in a city i've been in for just over twelve hours without my glasses.

perhaps it was the bottle of wine she drank last night.

my flight was alright, as flights go. in recent history i have grown to loath airports, planes and attendents; they smelled, poluted and wouldn't give me all the coffee i could drink.

"sir, i would fill your cup up again if you'd just hold the cup still"
"I DON'T TELL HOW TO YOU DO YOUR JOB SO YOU'LL SURE AS HECK BETTER NOT TELL ME TO LIVE MINE" was my usual reply, delivered with more gusto than grammar.

However, yesterday I flew out of Hamilton International Airport and my, let me tell you about a delightful experience. First off the port goes by the name "Hi", so right off the bat I felt at home.

"Is that wall greating me, Dad?"
"Yes son, that sort of thing happens in the big city"

I suppose they don't need to have "Airport" in the name because, likely, if you are going there, you know that it is an airport. In fact that's included as part of the directions on the website.

"Read that again to me, Bird"
"That's what it says: turn on to highway 6, it's the one that's the airport."
"Is that it?"
"That's a farm"
"There?"
"a school"
"and that?"
"that's the farm again"

and another thing, they have these nice gentlemen in orange shirt who helped use a computer to check in. i could pick my seat, i chose an isle because the windows were already taken, i didn't want a middle seat and the computer had already given me an isle. i remembered the map of the plane that i saw on the Orange Man's computer screen so that i would know where i was going later on.

**memorizing sounds**
hmm. turn left at the wing, young child should be two seats behind me. good. i think i've got it.
**/memorizing sounds**

of course when i got to the plane i'd've been better off just checking the ticket as i would have noticed that the planes was parked differently, the child was an old man and the wings where the cockpit.

never the less i found my real seat, all red in the face, from embarrassment not the hieniken, with the help of a friendly couple who's seats i was in.

i nearly finished my book too,.which, as it turns out, i'd finished several years ago. it felt good to blow through a novel though; made me feel smart.

All said and done, I had a great time flying. I had my usual anxiety about flying and traveling but that passed, as it always does, and i just watched things unfold around me.

I'm off to explore the city of edmonton, maybe find out what their tim's cups look like and maybe, just maybe, meet an oiler fan and find out what makes them tick (like I know anything about baseball).

Bound to be bound somewhere

Today is the day: I am back on the road. I fly tonight to sunny Edmonton, back in time two hours, the good kind of time travel not the bad kind that makes you sleep for three days after wards, this is the good kind that keeps a person up for three days after.

I'm gone for two weeks, doing some job hunting, soul searching and friendship formations. I plan to hit Edmonton, Jasper, Calgary and Banff and what ever else I can see along the way.

I'll leave you now with a little song by a little Candian artist that's been in my head for about a month now.

Cheers,

--bbb

Ca Va Cool

When I was in high school the internet was quite young. I didn't know much about it, I still know relatively little about it, and we didn't have access to it at the home farm until midway through my grade eleven year.

One of my classmates said to me one day, as they do from time to time while we weren't reading with our free-reading time,

"I don't know why anyone really gets the internet. You spend a week exploring around, finding new things and reading jokes and eventually you run out of things to do. Every time you log on it is the same stuff. I don't get it, I just don't get it."

I really had no idea if he was right, wrong or even speaking to me but what I think I do know now is that the internet has a lot more stuff.

( A person could say crap, however I enjoy using stuff because it isn't specifically good or bad, it merely suggests an abundance of material.)

Today I have the house to myself, since my roommates have either gone to work, school or doctors appointments, and now that I have finished the chores and ate my breakfast I've sat down and done a bit of inspirational searching. A quick recap of my last few weeks and my next few weeks goes a little along the lines of:

cleaned some house; harvested some corn; drove some tractor; booked some flight to and from edmonton; spoke with some friend; searched some couch; watched some high school and college sport.

Also, today I have drank and brewed some coffee, and not necessarily in that order.

With my inspirational search I intended to plan my upcoming airtrip and to get my creative synapses firing before I turned around and fired them.

I wandered around couchsurfing and found a member named 'elephantson' which I found to be a funny name but didn't know why. I punched it into my favourite search engine and, after a few adjustments, found a blog and then followed a link to another blog and laughed a bit and the word play title and how my sister, Mademoiselle Murray, would also find humour in it.

The internet is full of wonderful stuff. Take that reading buddy!

(Now I've got to clean the kitchen before my parents get home from the doctors office)

Dear Mom,

I am sorry that I haven't written in a while, I have been rather busy. And seeing as I am in the same house as you now I don't really find it necessary to have to write you to say hello.

In fact, I can just turn around and say hello. Which I think I will do. Right now.

Hi Mom!

You said hi back, chuckled and asked what it was I was doing.

Just writing to you, says I.

Oh that's nice. Don't forget to clean your room, I think it's what's making you cough.

Thanks Mom, and I will, blushes I. But I've really got to get back to writing to you mom.

Oh sure dear. Let me know when you're finished.

I will, not to worry.

I changed the layout a bit; just one of the ways I've kept myself. I've been following Dad around for a bit, helping out my uncles and pretending to be various types of farmers; chicken, dairy, pig, turkey, crop etc. I think I make a pretty good lil'buckaroo.

On top of that I've been dreaming up excuses to take off again. There is a list of places to go, at least ones that I've made a point of highlighting. The list has included London (Ont), Toronto, Montreal, Halifax and St. Johns, however I've started looking more west-ward for my next adventure. Perhaps Edmonton, or Calgary, or Jasper, or Banff.

Excuses for traveling aren't hard to come by, as there are so many places to go, and it has helped that I've reread some of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker series. The one I read first, actually it has just occurred to me that it is the only one I've reread since arriving home, is So Long and Thanks for all the Fish which features the series' main character, Arthur Dent, arriving back to planet earth, adjusting to life as it was before he left and, ultimately, leaving on another adventure.

Quite appropriate and unplanned and welcomed all rolled into one.

I'd also like to point out that that map thingy I have has reset itself and is currently showing little red spots, representing people, all over the map. This means that, by some odd, yet interesting, computer glitch, people are still coming to visit this site, even though I have arrived home, haven't written much at all, and, something that I thought I was quite sure of, you, my mother, were among the only people still reading. In fact, even though it might appear so by the recount of a conversation of ours above, you don't even know that I am writing now, because I made that all up.

I am not sure why, but I am glad they are there and I do hope that they make themselves known by way of a comment or two, just so's I know who and where they are. Of course if they are shy I would take an email too.

That's all for now, as you are calling Mands and I to the table to decorate the treat bags.

Until next time:

love, your son.

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Hey You!

I had a pint of Bulmers at an ethnically confused pub the other day in St Small Town, Ontario. I was visiting a friend of mine, he works on a Dairy farm just outside of town, and he and his girlfriend took me out to O'Generic Pub.

They had thought that it was an English Pub with some bar-type stuff. However it was, in fact, a pub trying to be Irish but forgetting that Ireland doesn't have a Liverpool Underground.

There was Guinness on tap, Murphy's junk on the wall and a few Irish saying framed and flanking the bar stools.

The locals looked the part of a small town Ontario pub, all of whom wouldn't have stood a chance getting a drink at the divest of dives in any Irish village; least of all one that I was pulling pints at (that, if said live and in real life, would have been accompanied by an Anchor Man quote and something to do with being a big deal. Sarcasm doesn't ever work in emails, or any written communications for that matter, so I like to make sure it makes sense).

The point, and there is one, is that there was Bulmers on draft but they called it Magners, as they do in places that are not Ireland, and it tasted like piss, as it does in places that are not Ireland.

That did not, by the way, stop him and I from having a couple of pints each. It was the first outing I'd been on since getting home; I liked it, very much. Not the drinking part, but the being around people part, and the in a setting that resembled that feeling of home that I missed so very much part.

Part of that was also writing here. I've been sending a few emails to friends here at home, and been conversing with a few that are still traveling. Since I've been writing to them I feel like I should be writing to you. So, even though I said goodbye just a day or so ago, I may just post here periodically.

No promises, but I do like writing.