My Lighter Just Died

My lighter just died.

It still had lots of flint, but its fuel ran out.
It was just a freebie they give you when you buy a carton of smokes, but some lighters are more special than others.
I become attached to some. Usually longevity and reliability are the key factors for becoming attached to a lighter.
Some crap out after a day or too, some get left behind somewhere, some are untrustworthy. With the latter ones, I usually keep them in my van as backups.

The good ones seem to last forever. I've had lighters that have worked for a month after my naked eye couldn't detect any fuel in them!

There should be a Hall of Fame for good lighters!

Electric Blankets

I can't go to bed yet.
I have to wait for at least another 30 minutes, so my electric blanket sufficiently warms my bed. Well actually, it's a futon.

Nothing beats crawling into a nicely warmed futon on a cold night!
Well, maybe a few things do.

The electric blanket was a gift from an old girlfriend. It goes under the bottom sheet and pumps out some serious heat! One friend claimed she burnt her bum on it, but I think she was exaggerating.
I love my electric blanket so much.

I gave one as a Christmas gift last year to a friend of mine.
He loves his too.
I don't know how him and his wife survived without one for so long.
I don't think I could live through the winter without it.
It is my best friend these days.

Only another 20 minutes to go.

Matches

I'm not a big collector.

I have a clear plastic coin bank that is shaped like a head. I don't like to collect change, so I am filling it up with matches instead.

Places aren't giving away matches like they used to: I guess the non-smokers are winning the battle.

I'm not too serious about my match collection.
It's just a bonus when I find some.
Oooo Matches!

A Short Story

It was Bill Bryant and his damn lunchbox again.
Each night he came into the staffroom, grabbed his lunchbox, and proceeded to pull out one tasty morsel after another. It wasn't the food that bothered the rest of us, it was the commentary on each item before, during, and after he ate it. Sure, we envied him for the quality of the goodies in his lunchbox; but we hated him for giving us a play-by-play on how delicious everything looked, smelled, and tasted.
Nothing much happened on the nightshift: just checking levels, adjusting temperatures, and pushing buttons. We welcomed little distractions that broke up the monotony and got us through the night. Tonight it was the rat. It had made its appearance a few weeks earlier and was an unwelcome guest. We tried using traps on it, but it was lucky once and shied away from them now.
My co-worker, Mike, came up to me and said he'd finished off the rat. He'd cornered it in the storage room and beat it dead with a broom. I went with him to inspect his handy work. As we both stood over its lifeless body, Mike said, "We should put this in Bill's lunchbox. Maybe that will shut him up about his lunches." So we did it.
At lunch time the two of us waited for Bill to open his lunchbox and anticipated the look we hoped to see on his face."I'm starving!" Bill said rubbing his hands together. He put the lunchbox on the table.
We leaned forward.
He clicked the snaps on the lunchbox.
We moved closer.
He flipped the top open.

And up popped the rat, like Lazarus from the grave!

Bill toppled backwards on his chair. Myself and Mike jumped clear to the other side of the room. And the rat jumped out of the lunchbox, off the table, and out the door at lightning speed.

It's 2 weeks later and neither Mike nor I have seen the rat again. We bought Bill a new lunchbox, but he doesn't talk about its contents anymore.

Driving Games

I like driving.

Sometimes there is nothing better than hopping in my van and putting a big stretch of road between me and my city.

If I'm with someone, I play punch buggy.

If you see a volkswagen beetle before the other person, you punch them in the arm.

There aren't many old beetles in Japan, so it's pretty boring.

I try to hold my breath going through tunnels. This is mildly entertaining. There is a 11km tunnel I have to drive through sometimes, which I don't have much success with.

I try to lift my feet off the ground while going over bridges, but bridges seem to be getting longer. And the people behind me seem to get annoyed with my rapid deceleration.

My father started me on this activity. He used to tell me there were trolls under the bridge and if I didn't lift my feet, they would grab me and pull me under the bridge.

I can't remember what they were going to do with me though.

A Japanese friend says his kids play a game: If they can see 5 beetles, they become extremely happy. If they see a black one, they have to start counting over again. If they see a black cat parcel delivery van, they become extremely sad.

I'm not sure why.

I think something was lost in the translation.

The best driving distraction I have enjoyed was while driving around Australia. Myself and a friend kept a tally of road kill. Our notepad had the following categories: kangaroos, emus, sheep, cows, possum, wombats, pigs, bird of flight, and unclassifiable.

Those road trains don't stop for man or beast!

Hopefully Along Time from Now

Funerals:
The only thing I remember from my father's funeral was watching the hearse drag a traffic cone the entire way from the church to the cemetary. Quite a feat since it was an hours drive. I was fascinated with that traffic cone. I wasn't the only one: all of my brothers and sisters clearly remember it too!

Cemetaries:
I asked a tombstone engraving person: How many people can you stick in a funeral plot?
The answer: one burial and two internments (at least in Canada).
I started thinking about how many of my relatives have been buried and concluded that if I want to be interned I have a lot of choice!!
I have to be quick! Limited room available!!!

Cremations:
I don't want to be interned.
I want my ashes scattered some place I have visited and loved: Easter Island, Machu Picchu, Uluru (Ayers Rock), Komodo Island, ...
My sister has offered to scatter me, but only if I pay for the trip (and maybe some money for shopping).

My sister is so caring.

Scars

I've been pretty lucky.
I've made it to 43 without acquiring too many scars: physical ones at least.
None on my body! How lucky is that!

They've all accumulated on my face.
I have a nicely concealed one tucked up in my eyelid at the corner of my eye. A memento from playing ball hockey at 8 years old. My father stitched me up: a pretty good piece of work from the old man. Yes, he was a doctor!

Another was from surgery to correct a split lip that never healed.
Pretty inconspicuous as well.

The third is my stupidity scar.
It's a tiny scar on the bridge of my nose.
My friend bet me that I couldn't jump as high as the potted plant hanging from a light standard in a parking lot.
I not only managed to jump as high as it, but knocked it off and it fell on my nose. We are talking about a big beer barrel type plant holder folks.
I'm lucky it didn't take my nose clean off!!

My friend has the best (or worst) stupidity scar.
Inebriated, he fell down a very steep slope when he was 18. He was luckily found by a woman the next morning; passed out sitting on a tree stump with a bone sticking out of his shoulder.
His stitchmarks resemble the laces on a football.
It looks like something ripped his arm off and then it was reattached!!

Now he tells people that he was bitten by a shark.
But I know the truth.

New Shoes!

I just couldn't put on my old sneakers today.

They are comfortable and still look okay; but they are smelly.

I pulled out my new ones, that I have been saving for 6 months.

I wear size 11/12 (28-30cm); not abnormally large, but in Japan it's a mission to find this size.

I have to stockpile sometimes.

Usually the selection is bad: bright orange basketball hightops, velcro monstrosities, or fluorescent ones that scream alternative lifestyle!!

But today I have new ones on!

They look good!

I'm always amazed at how good new running shoes make me feel.

I should do this more often.

I have a jump in my step.

I feel healthier, I've become better looking!

New Running Shoes!

I don't run in them though: I think I could today!

Anything is possible on new shoe day.

I feel lucky!

Weights and Measures

I always liked having my height measured as a kid.
I could see change: there was always progress.
I never got shorter!
Sometimes I hadn't grown that much, but I was still moving slowly up the wall or door frame.
Other times I grew like the proverbial weed.
I tried to figure out what had caused such a growth spurt.
Was I drinking more milk that usual?
Was it a secret ingredient in my Mom's relish?
Was it a combination of 2 foods that had given me the extra boost?

I don't measure my height anymore: it's always the same now.
I guess eventually I'll start getting shorter.
How depressing.

I still like to check my weight though. I like scales.
In Japan they call them health meters.
If there is a scale, I'm on it.
I don't have one at home, so I usually check my weight at the gym or at onsens.

My favourite little game is to weigh myself before and after taking a sauna.
I usually lose about a kilo (2.2 pounds).

One time I weighed myself before and after using the toilet: I weighed more!!

I can't figure that one out.