I wrote this to my three sons in 2001 and it still makes me laugh.

 

I am alone at home. My family is in New Jersey and I’m here. My goal was to build some shelving (2- 4foot shelves in my bathroom and a 12 foot one in my bedroom) and paint them, and paint the bedroom and the bathroom and our closet before they all come back on Friday evening. I figured I’d be through by Sunday evening.

The building mostly took place before they left. These are decorative units, not standard shelving. So, they took some more time. Plus, I wanted to paint them in enamel paint, so I had to do enamel primer and two coats of enamel paint, which stops me from painting around them with wall paint as all this stuff needs to dry. I am also dying from the smell of the varsol etc. I also needed to shellac the knots first, so they wouldn’t bleed.

Then, I had to paint the walls a beautiful green we picked out over 3 weeks. We also have a beautiful blue (ticking) for the bathroom and closet. I forgot I had to move furniture by myself, and I needed a place to put everything. This is not easy. Also, the old paint is flat, and probably cheap, so it’s soaking in the new satin finish stuff quickly. I hope I can do this in two coats.

So far, after two whole days when I didn’t work, I’ve done the shelves (don’t forget I’ve got to do the moldings too) and 2 ½ walls with one coat. This is only the bedroom. I’m not going to be done when they arrive. I hope I’ll finish the bedroom. That’s my new goal.

The shelving, that’s for my decoy collection. Our bedroom is going to look like a hunter’s paradise. I’ve also added the game boards, and we’re going for a folk kind of thing.

I believe that at another point in my life I would have been finished by now but I don’t fold up too well any more. And working on my knees should be reserved for more hedonist pursuits.

Dad

I wrote this on several years ago and it's happened several times since, of course

 

Today I went over to my favorite hot dog/ sausage place, a little stand in front of Canadian Tire here in Dundas. I got an Italian sausage with fried onions, which I piled with sauerkraut, mustard, catsup, pickles and hot peppers. My wife gave me hell recently for eating (this stuff in general) in my car on the Canadian Tire parking lot, and forced me to go to a nearby park and look at nature while eating my sausage.

 

 Hearing her recent words echoing in my head, I put the food down, put the diet coke in the little holder and drove towards the park. At the first stop sign the whole package tipped over, and I had lunch spilled over into the center console junk space.

With much effort I pulled over, dug out my food, wiped the mustard from my pants where it still stains, and put this magnificent sculptural lunch back together again.

It was no longer pretty, but when I reached the park I hungrily ate it, listened to the radio and communed with nature. I had 3 napkins and a wash and dry with me, thankfully, so I was able to clean up myself and the car, dump the trash, wipe the sauerkraut off of my clothing and come back to work.

I sent this as an email to friends in May, 2005.....

I know you will understand that I am aware this is crazy. There is no joke at the end and no sinister plot involved. I am not a man with too much time on his hands (although that could be true), it’s just an observation and an investigation I am undertaking.

 I like to shave. It’s not everyone’s “cup of tea”, but I enjoy it. I often shave twice a day if I have a reason to be going out in the evening. So far, this is reasonably normal.

 Some time ago I began to count how many strokes it took to shave (see how it’s getting less normal). Then I worked at seeing if I could shave with less strokes. I figured it took me 150 strokes (I was surprised at how many) to shave, and I have successfully cut it down to 100. There is no prize for this, nor does it save enough time to matter. It was just for fun.

So, if you shave anyway with a razor (non-electric), try counting and let me know how many strokes it takes. I considered it a stroke from the time it touched my face until I lifted the razor.

 Now I know all the minds are going about how many strokes it takes to do other things, but let’s concentrate on shaving.

 You certainly can write me off as compulsive (hard to believe) or strange (not hard to believe) but this is all about fun. It has taken me weeks to write this as it seemed too bizarre to ask.