Two Sleeps to Go

More like one and a quarter, to be accurate. The Airporter is scheduled to roll into my driveway at 4:20 am Monday. Because the drive to Pearson will be made under the cover of darkness the majestic scenery and award-winning architecture all along the stunningly beautiful 401 will be sadly unappreciated. Rhythmic snoring from the back seat will ensue. Sorry Frank, even after all those years of 8 am calls, I've never been a morning guy.

My bags have been dragged down from the attic. Tomorrow I cram. What do I really need for the trip? My passport, my newly stretched boots (thanks Dimitri) and a pair of pants, or shorts, depending on the current whim of the Suchitoto fashion police. Anything else I manage to squeeze in along with the skilsaw and the other tools currently spread out on the dining room floor will be bonus.

Today's funeral service in Stratford was remarkable for the display of courage and strength and
eloquence which I witnessed. This forum is not the place for public comments on such a private matter, but if you're reading this, my friend, I will say that my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

A final word to those who have expressed reservations about signing up as 'followers' of this journal. Don't worry, be happily anonymous. Too many of those curious little pictures in the followers column (does anyone else find the blank head and shoulders image kind of creepy?) and I might be tempted to give up my day job. So far though, the editors of the Globe and the New York Times have made no effort whatsoever to contact me. Even the guy down the street who publishes the Baden Outlook every week or two has been strangely silent.
Go figure.