tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83665454216757453532024-03-13T17:59:22.744+01:00The Auntie TimesAll the News that's Pit to Frint.The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-24902425541497001492014-01-04T17:08:00.000+01:002014-01-05T19:35:23.997+01:00Meow Means Smile<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please sit still...</td></tr>
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When was the last time I posted about cats? According to Auntie's handy 2014 "Page-a-Day" Cat calendar, it's been forever. This contradicts Uncle Jim who thinks otherwise. "You can't argue with facts," nor Auntie's reliable cat calendar I responded.</div>
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According to fellow blogger, photographer and poet extrodinare, <a href="http://lostinarles.blogspot.fr/" target="_blank">Heather of Arles</a>, Auntie has a knack for cat portraiture. Well, I certainly do enjoy it.</div>
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Who can resist a soft, furry, purring animal marching towards you on the street to say hello and sticking around for a scratch? Not Auntie. It's just lucky that I always have my camera and my "cat eye" lens with me just in case one of the lovely darlings wanders by for a little bit of "watch the birdie."</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't be such a sour puss!</td></tr>
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Hmm, maybe cat portraiture could be a new career for Auntie? I could use all that extra loot to buy a nice present for Uncle Jim. Or maybe a kitten...<br />
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Let's start our journey with a little vignette. Please step this way to your front row seat...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Archie, miracle cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Literary cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camouflage cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Italian village cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garden cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bubble cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nellie the resting cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parsnip, the smart cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ginger Cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wrinkly cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shy cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Princess cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Egyptian cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puff ball cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canine cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Humiliated cat</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese leashed cat</td></tr>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-15806552011506290532013-12-19T17:50:00.000+01:002013-12-19T17:50:28.829+01:00A Walk-By Wreathing in Monaco-Ville<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en" tabindex="-1"><span class="hps">There was a big holiday surprise for Auntie when she opened her front door on Tuesday morning. </span></span></div>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en" tabindex="-1"><span class="hps">It was not dog poo on the side walk in front of the house. No, that was
Thursday's little surprise - today it was a pretty Christmas wreath hanging
from our front door! </span></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rm7VabrK0AU/Uqq_rOnnbdI/AAAAAAAACrw/FgyK7G-LSDY/s1600/IMG_5690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rm7VabrK0AU/Uqq_rOnnbdI/AAAAAAAACrw/FgyK7G-LSDY/s640/IMG_5690.JPG" width="480" /></a><span class="" id="result_box" lang="en" tabindex="-1"><span class="hps">I called Uncle Jim downstairs so he could have a
look and together we stood around and scratched our heads wondering who'd put it there. We found one big clue. Nestled in
amongst the little pine cones, ribbons and nuts was a card
with a cheery, <i>"Bone Feste"</i> which is Monegasque for Happy Holidays.
Hmm.. This narrowed down the list of "wreathers" somewhat. </span></span></div>
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<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en" tabindex="-1"><span class="hps"><br /></span></span>
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en" tabindex="-1"><span class="hps">Prime
suspects on our mystery wreathers list were Celine, who is always doing nice things for us, and our Monegasque neighbours across
the street. But following some intense questioning and verifying their
whereabouts on Monday night, a big light bulb went on above Uncle Jim's
head. Or maybe it was some Christmas lights. Uncle Jim remembered reading
about the Christmas wreaths in our Neighbourhood Association's newsletter. </span></span><span class="st">Gosh, I really should start reading those!<span class="st"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="st"><span class="st">As it turns out, the holiday wreath hangers were volunteers from our Neighbourhood Association or <i>l'Association du Quartier le Rocher.</i> Those in the know call it <i>A.Q.L.R.</i> for short. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="st">You
may think that everyone living in Monaco is riding around in a fancy sports
car, walking coiffed poodles with their hands and necks laden with expensive baubles, but up here on <i>Le Rocher</i> or "The Rock" as
Monaco-Ville is known to the locals, we lead a surprisingly modest
lifestyle compared to those in other parts of the Principality. You may have noticed, dear readers, that Auntie is no glamour-puss so Monaco-Ville suits me just fine!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0a0Ox6kMbNc/UqrBmN03usI/AAAAAAAACsE/JTVAdSMcsxA/s1600/WreathCollage+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0a0Ox6kMbNc/UqrBmN03usI/AAAAAAAACsE/JTVAdSMcsxA/s640/WreathCollage+1.jpg" width="594" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone on Avenue Emile de Loth got one</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="st">Allow me to share a few excepts from our </span><span class="st"><span class="st"><span class="st"><i>A.Q.L.R. </i></span></span>newsletter and you'll see what I mean: </span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dbUxJFwqQtQ/Uqm4PGHToCI/AAAAAAAACpc/_heajYCU47U/s1600/Wreath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dbUxJFwqQtQ/Uqm4PGHToCI/AAAAAAAACpc/_heajYCU47U/s400/Wreath.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Archbishop got one</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en" tabindex="-1"><i><span class="hps">"Xavier</span> <span class="hps">& Jacky</span> (from the Post Office) <span class="hps">ask that whomever</span><span class="hps"> sent</span> <span class="hps">a package</span> <span class="hps">to </span><span class="hps">Mr.</span> <span class="hps">&</span> <span class="hps">Mrs</span> <span class="hps">Faustini </span>would <span class="hps">kindly</span> present themselves at the post office <span class="hps">as the </span><span class="hps">sender's name</span> <span class="hps">is not specified and the package has been </span></i><span class="hps"><i>returned as undeliverable." </i> Dear me!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en" tabindex="-1"></span><br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en" tabindex="-1">And a regular feature on page 2... <i>"The chronicles of the 'Quat’ pattes du Rocher,' </i>or Four Paws on the Rock." <i>Here is the little dog Jade </i>(photo of little Jade smiling)<i> who says, "I adore my life with the Pestoni family." </i> Hmm. This makes Auntie wonder if it was Jade who left the little poo present near her front door on Thursday.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en" tabindex="-1">There
are also recipes submitted by readers, photos of bags of trash mysteriously abandoned here and there, and scooters
breaking the rules by parking where they shouldn't. Just the very sort of down to earth activities playing out in neighbourhoods all over the world. But I digress. Back to our wreaths...</span><span class="" id="result_box" lang="en"> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en">The next day, Auntie took an early morning walk around the neighbourhood and sure enough, wreaths were hung everywhere. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en">According to the newsletter, volunteers created 230 wreaths and they found many of the components in Monaco-Ville. The g<span class="hps">ardeners</span> who tend the lovely <i>Jardin <span class="hps">Saint</span>-Martin </i><span class="hps">gathered</span> <span class="hps">the pine cones and the acorns were collected from the </span>main road leading up to the Rock. After the wreaths were assembled, Father DiLeo blessed them all before they were hung. Now that's a community effort!</span><span class="" id="result_box" lang="en"> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en">The volunteers who hung them must have had a tall ladder or a co-operative monkey helping them. Some were up really high.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lly44QyFhjg/UrMdHVECLSI/AAAAAAAACso/Xn--v_-rJ-s/s1600/Wreath17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="622" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lly44QyFhjg/UrMdHVECLSI/AAAAAAAACso/Xn--v_-rJ-s/s640/Wreath17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No wreath for the Palace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K1MZ8TVwuso/Uqm4WZfISFI/AAAAAAAACqE/uPK0mGQhwpQ/s1600/Wreath14.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K1MZ8TVwuso/Uqm4WZfISFI/AAAAAAAACqE/uPK0mGQhwpQ/s400/Wreath14.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Palace workroom got one<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After roaming around the side streets, curiosity struck and I wondered if they had hung a wreath on the Palace door. After all, the Prince and Princess live in the neighbourhood too. <br />
<br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en">Auntie smiled at all the guards and walked confidently up to big front doors of the Palace, camera in hand, looking like a tourist. I got as close as I could without arousing suspicion and then... Oh no! There was no wreath!</span><br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en">Maybe the Prince forgot to pay his annual Community Association dues. </span><br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en"></span><br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en"> </span><br />
<span class="" id="result_box" lang="en"></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s4QRJeXz_iI/UqrBlRjIPWI/AAAAAAAACsA/3BM_51uNVXE/s1600/WreathCollage+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s4QRJeXz_iI/UqrBlRjIPWI/AAAAAAAACsA/3BM_51uNVXE/s640/WreathCollage+2.jpg" width="540" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone on rue Basse got one</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b5sZOLQ2uis/Uqm4TaxiPLI/AAAAAAAACpw/ifFo2XSx9BM/s1600/Wreath12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b5sZOLQ2uis/Uqm4TaxiPLI/AAAAAAAACpw/ifFo2XSx9BM/s640/Wreath12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Canadian Consulate got one</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UtMR799IzoU/UqnFCZZPO3I/AAAAAAAACrU/QSBOsLt6dbQ/s1600/Wreath15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UtMR799IzoU/UqnFCZZPO3I/AAAAAAAACrU/QSBOsLt6dbQ/s640/Wreath15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the nuns got one<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kf3bGH3xyB0/UrIQNwOD04I/AAAAAAAACsY/omc8sCZxrK4/s1600/Wreath16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kf3bGH3xyB0/UrIQNwOD04I/AAAAAAAACsY/omc8sCZxrK4/s200/Wreath16.jpg" width="168" /></a></div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-13946403415160218722013-12-05T22:07:00.001+01:002013-12-05T22:28:56.064+01:00The Border Marked by Song<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Bpr_IgTm28/Up3xFz9_1zI/AAAAAAAACkQ/V_ma6JgOa0s/s1600/Carlo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9Bpr_IgTm28/Up3xFz9_1zI/AAAAAAAACkQ/V_ma6JgOa0s/s640/Carlo2.jpg" width="432" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Carlo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Did you know that the border between North and South Korea is the most heavily guarded border in the world? Instead of a smiling faces, sniffer dogs and polite guards asking to see your passport, you're more likely to be shot at by a soldier, blown up by a landmine, or cut to shreds by miles and miles of coiled razor wire. I imagine there's no souvenir shop either.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, here in the sunny south of France, it's not like that at all, thank goodness! Thousands of people pass back and forth from France into Monaco everyday, to and fro, tra-la-la, completely unfettered, sometimes with no better reason than to get a better deal on a bag of oranges.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There are no big flashing signs, no guards, no checkpoints, nor any of the obvious things that would tell you that you were crossing from one country to another. But guess what? Auntie is in the know and she will reveal to you the secrets behind the Monaco-France border. So grab your camera, strap on your fanny pack and let's go!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NDAEXwG_PEI/Up3xEWN9miI/AAAAAAAACkM/rvm5iVlW9NE/s1600/Carlo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NDAEXwG_PEI/Up3xEWN9miI/AAAAAAAACkM/rvm5iVlW9NE/s640/Carlo.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carlo's handwritten sheet music</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Here's your first clue: listen for the music...<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MEUr3jpDY18/UqCFvPWWOLI/AAAAAAAACnU/4C_QUizDxko/s1600/Carlo3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MEUr3jpDY18/UqCFvPWWOLI/AAAAAAAACnU/4C_QUizDxko/s320/Carlo3.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carlo's pretty accordion</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
The sweet sound of Carlo playing his accordion is the first thing you'll notice when you near the border. Carlo is a bit of a fixture there these days and this morning he was squeezing out a new song, "Mickey's Warning" that he'd painstakingly copied by hand from a friend's songbook. Funny that it was in English...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Carlo explained the facts of life for a border musician to Auntie while I tossed <i>centimes</i> into his open accordion case in time to his music.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<br />
"The most important thing," Carlo explained, "is to set up my stool and music stand on this side of the street." As he said this he stopped playing and swept his arm out in front of him and pointed left and right. "The other side of the street is in Monaco and it's <i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">strictement interdite </span></span></i><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">to play music over there </span></span><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">and the police would chase me away."</span></span><br />
<br />
Such a pity! We could use a little cheery music over here in Monaco.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S8BrxUgdS1A/UqCcIM4cF4I/AAAAAAAACo0/Y9wvJCSZWQM/s1600/CarloCollage3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S8BrxUgdS1A/UqCcIM4cF4I/AAAAAAAACo0/Y9wvJCSZWQM/s640/CarloCollage3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Over here is Monaco, over there is France</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Carlo sets up his one man band on the French side of the little street that
divides the Principality of Monaco to the south and Beausoleil in
France to the north. Strangely, each side of the street has a different name! The Monaco side is called <i>Boulevard de France</i> and the French side in Beausoleil is called <i>Boulevard du Général Leclerc</i>. I imagine it's a bit confusing for tourists and the UPS guy.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MEtl_tirMkI/UqCcJo1d7YI/AAAAAAAACpA/9SH-9icRfgo/s1600/CarloCollage2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MEtl_tirMkI/UqCcJo1d7YI/AAAAAAAACpA/9SH-9icRfgo/s640/CarloCollage2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The magazine shop on the Monaco side has a much better selection of post cards</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Both the French and Monaco sides of the street are dotted with shoe shops, a butcher, magazine shops, and a pharmacy. Personally, Auntie prefers the magazine shop on the Monaco side because they always have cat scratch lottery tickets and a much better selection of postcards.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Not only does each side of the street have a different name, if you
look down at your feet, you'd notice that the sidewalks are different
too. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-taDPQOI2nEc/Up3xOfxf-6I/AAAAAAAACk8/9Q7a2b2n0A0/s1600/Carlo5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="484" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-taDPQOI2nEc/Up3xOfxf-6I/AAAAAAAACk8/9Q7a2b2n0A0/s640/Carlo5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smiling faces to walk on in France</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The French side is paved with smiling sunny faces and the Monaco
side is paved with red brick. From what Auntie has seen over the years,
dogs favour the French side of the street when it comes to leaving poo
behind. Maybe they're inspired by the smiling faces.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G2UE5lWxpsM/Up3xNlelT4I/AAAAAAAACk4/K3WRRKlommc/s1600/Carlo7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="484" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G2UE5lWxpsM/Up3xNlelT4I/AAAAAAAACk4/K3WRRKlommc/s640/Carlo7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boring but clean red bricks on the Monaco side</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The last thing you should know about is the secret smudge.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's difficult to see because the street is always so full of cars but down the middle of the street is the secret border smudge. This smudge is the definitive dividing line between Monaco and France. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o_nhmzqAuNg/Up36_hFYMbI/AAAAAAAAClI/DbDBi164sN8/s1600/Carlo8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="598" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o_nhmzqAuNg/Up36_hFYMbI/AAAAAAAAClI/DbDBi164sN8/s640/Carlo8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Smudge" marks the spot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, there you have it. Now you know all the secret ways to tell if you are in Monaco or France.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Of course if you become lost, you can always call Auntie or listen for Carlo.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Remember to look both ways and <i>bon voyage!</i></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-52027598451352580352013-11-16T15:46:00.002+01:002014-01-19T12:59:06.239+01:00Quack 'n Cluck! Fresh Eggs from the Petting Zoo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uJdWBU7dH9o/UodQR5KyPXI/AAAAAAAACiU/IzFBjm8bm3k/s1600/Hen+House7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uJdWBU7dH9o/UodQR5KyPXI/AAAAAAAACiU/IzFBjm8bm3k/s640/Hen+House7.jpg" height="508" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cock-a-doodle-do!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, you never know what you'll find driving around the countryside if you just slow down long enough to read the road signs.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When Auntie's BFF Sean and I zip from one flea market to another on summer Sundays,
we have an unspoken agreement that when either of us spots a road sign
for something we deem "detour worthy," of course we must stop. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It
could be anything that strikes our fancy - from "Garage Sale" to "Chip
Wagon" to the rare and completely exhilarating, "Free Kittens" sign. So w<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">hen
Auntie spotted a sign for "Fresh Eggs and Strawberries," it seemed too
good
to be true. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Auntie slammed on the
brakes.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Personally speaking, I'm always on the lookout for detours of the culinary kind especially ones
that may result in a billowy dessert soufflé for dinner. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4lH4k2PgmaI/UodjxSIUnxI/AAAAAAAACjI/xpsW90QRxCM/s1600/Hen+House3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4lH4k2PgmaI/UodjxSIUnxI/AAAAAAAACjI/xpsW90QRxCM/s640/Hen+House3.jpg" height="483" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">A few metres after the sign, we veered to the right onto a gravel patch where there stood a lady at a little wooden farm stand packed with fresh strawberries, raspberries and vegetables at good prices too.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">After buying some strawberries and eating a bunch (natch!), we stretched our legs a bit and then it was time to find those eggs! </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The lady at the farm stand pointed us in the direction of a narrow grassy pathway. Sean and I walked along the path and not far from the farm stand, we arrived at a little fenced-in meadow and a small, immaculate barn. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x1eqwAgaCNk/Uodj0DSFuWI/AAAAAAAACjY/4QU7rRdHSBE/s1600/Hen+House5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x1eqwAgaCNk/Uodj0DSFuWI/AAAAAAAACjY/4QU7rRdHSBE/s640/Hen+House5.jpg" height="484" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cloud and roof</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Around the back of the barn we saw some llamas, noisy geese and some waddling ducks. As it turned out, all of the birds were the "feather department" of what was a little family petting zoo.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ERGXFe5uUFk/UodjxflXbPI/AAAAAAAACjM/yfcya93jQv8/s1600/Hen+House4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ERGXFe5uUFk/UodjxflXbPI/AAAAAAAACjM/yfcya93jQv8/s400/Hen+House4.jpg" height="317" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No way! Pony rides!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In
the barn there were about a dozen hens walking about and pecking at
the ground while a rooster strutted back and forth managing the situation. They all seemed very happy and healthy. While we were admiring the birds and soaking in the scene, a nice woman
wearing galoshes and a big smile came up to us. "Would you like to go
inside?" she asked. Auntie is definitely a
city slicker so the prospect of going into a real hen house in a pretty
barn seemed like a lot of fun. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The floor of the barn
was coated with fresh wood chips that made it smell nice, and here and there were milk crates filled with
straw. These were the nests where the hens laid their eggs. In
one of the crates, Auntie spotted two big eggs.</div>
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_Vx1rFxpSAg/UodUyt6aY6I/AAAAAAAACik/2RtFjlQ5YH0/s1600/Hen+House8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_Vx1rFxpSAg/UodUyt6aY6I/AAAAAAAACik/2RtFjlQ5YH0/s640/Hen+House8.jpg" height="484" width="640" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Auntie really wanted to take those eggs but the nice woman said that she'd already collected the eggs for the
day and had some waiting outside for us. My, those were very big eggs to have come from such small hens!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After I took some photos, we left the barn and went back outside towards another little stand to get our eggs. They cost $5 a dozen. A real deal considering how big and fresh they were and we were now personally acquainted with the hens who'd laid them.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The nice woman asked if we'd ever cooked with duck eggs and then she gave us one of those
too. It was a lot bigger than the hen's egg and it was white instead of
brown.</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ab71WL1x6Rs/UodjuZS6IGI/AAAAAAAACi4/VxeYwO3HKrE/s1600/Hen+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ab71WL1x6Rs/UodjuZS6IGI/AAAAAAAACi4/VxeYwO3HKrE/s640/Hen+House.jpg" height="484" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sean and the duck egg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1RhbFDdAUUY/Uodj0GiWmhI/AAAAAAAACjU/WxBHaEFaBYY/s1600/Hen+House6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1RhbFDdAUUY/Uodj0GiWmhI/AAAAAAAACjU/WxBHaEFaBYY/s640/Hen+House6.jpg" height="482" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big eggs from happy hens</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tezqV3ECHzc/UodQK9DPHqI/AAAAAAAAChs/4L4hKj3MDbU/s1600/Hen+House2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tezqV3ECHzc/UodQK9DPHqI/AAAAAAAAChs/4L4hKj3MDbU/s640/Hen+House2.jpg" height="483" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He rules the roost, just like Uncle Jim!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Well, it was definitely worth the detour and next time Sean and I drive down that road we'll stop in for more eggs. We'll have to take one of those pony rides too!</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VponT3caCrk/Uodv0oNb4gI/AAAAAAAACjw/RlgY98yYVTw/s1600/Hen+House9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VponT3caCrk/Uodv0oNb4gI/AAAAAAAACjw/RlgY98yYVTw/s400/Hen+House9.jpg" height="197" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-26954525634125374482013-11-03T15:13:00.000+01:002013-11-03T15:13:04.448+01:00Something's Been Bugging Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZW8rJni8kkw/UnErDi_e9lI/AAAAAAAACeg/dZj_wZ-BR_k/s1600/Bugging10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="484" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZW8rJni8kkw/UnErDi_e9lI/AAAAAAAACeg/dZj_wZ-BR_k/s640/Bugging10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't you know it's rude to stare?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
It's no secret that Auntie takes a lot of photos. Maybe too many.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This escaped
Uncle Jim's notice for the longest time until one day when Auntie ran
out of storage space on her computer. This was followed by strange screeching noises coming from my hard-drive, a funny smell, and a dreaded "blue screen."<br />
<br />
This forced Uncle
Jim to pay closer attention to what Auntie was up to with her camera.</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XTe-WEh8zvI/UnErB7u4FTI/AAAAAAAACeY/INe0JM9QbuM/s1600/Bugging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="483" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XTe-WEh8zvI/UnErB7u4FTI/AAAAAAAACeY/INe0JM9QbuM/s640/Bugging.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Jim keeping his eye on Auntie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
While he was keeping a closer eye on Auntie, Uncle Jim noticed that Auntie didn't have a lens for taking close ups. So Uncle Jim kindly bought Auntie a
macro lens.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ever since then, Auntie's been on her knees and belly, taking a closer look at things, especially in the garden where very strange things seem to be everywhere. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A dried up bat, a spider eating a fly, loud buzzing insects and ants on the march. Auntie has seen some strange goings on.<br />
<br />
And you thought Halloween was scary!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LjEGfSZO9QI/UnY3mz_MWQI/AAAAAAAACgg/MRLB2RTnwhw/s1600/Bugging16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="484" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LjEGfSZO9QI/UnY3mz_MWQI/AAAAAAAACgg/MRLB2RTnwhw/s640/Bugging16.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ah6i4dTRZV8/UnEJwbR5eVI/AAAAAAAACeE/_k9SroF-_Ew/s1600/Small+is+BeautifulCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="502" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ah6i4dTRZV8/UnEJwbR5eVI/AAAAAAAACeE/_k9SroF-_Ew/s640/Small+is+BeautifulCollage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dried up bat I found</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OfNAiOpaziU/UnEJWp8IfcI/AAAAAAAACdQ/sh-Lr41Yd1Y/s1600/Small+is+Beautiful13.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="483" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OfNAiOpaziU/UnEJWp8IfcI/AAAAAAAACdQ/sh-Lr41Yd1Y/s640/Small+is+Beautiful13.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-geHQsvdUKk4/UnEu3RsraSI/AAAAAAAACgE/bwv7jVm5NJI/s1600/Bugging+CollageDROP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="326" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-geHQsvdUKk4/UnEu3RsraSI/AAAAAAAACgE/bwv7jVm5NJI/s640/Bugging+CollageDROP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ouch! Tthat's got to hurt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9vlg4uqvvZY/UnEJWoUuopI/AAAAAAAACdU/ufNdVhY4UQg/s1600/Small+is+Beautiful11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="484" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9vlg4uqvvZY/UnEJWoUuopI/AAAAAAAACdU/ufNdVhY4UQg/s640/Small+is+Beautiful11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fLztA3zbxrA/UnErLxw9OsI/AAAAAAAACfQ/7qENfg0Kzeg/s1600/Bugging3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="484" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fLztA3zbxrA/UnErLxw9OsI/AAAAAAAACfQ/7qENfg0Kzeg/s640/Bugging3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EBt38Ka0fus/UnErRt7VQXI/AAAAAAAACfk/e8oTOiJKHcY/s1600/Bugging7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="484" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EBt38Ka0fus/UnErRt7VQXI/AAAAAAAACfk/e8oTOiJKHcY/s640/Bugging7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What IS that thing?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span id="goog_912152024"></span><span id="goog_912152025"></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J5gWyitwDZ8/UnErbJBOfuI/AAAAAAAACgA/zJjgPg_Qe6U/s1600/Bugging8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="482" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J5gWyitwDZ8/UnErbJBOfuI/AAAAAAAACgA/zJjgPg_Qe6U/s640/Bugging8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've fallen over and I can't get up!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-etgY6V99FFE/UnErIUrIgNI/AAAAAAAACe4/GQFZRR1NnVc/s1600/Bugging13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-etgY6V99FFE/UnErIUrIgNI/AAAAAAAACe4/GQFZRR1NnVc/s640/Bugging13.jpg" width="568" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ddy3L_Soqdg/UnErIqriSCI/AAAAAAAACfA/CVXAyA-bwI8/s1600/Bugging14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ddy3L_Soqdg/UnErIqriSCI/AAAAAAAACfA/CVXAyA-bwI8/s640/Bugging14.jpg" width="568" /></a></div>
<br />
Seems that all the pictures I've taken with my new macro lens have filled up my hard-drive again. It's back to the drawing board for poor Uncle Jim!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O4gzQnYg7Zk/UnY125rSnRI/AAAAAAAACgU/EpSVW8LTPHM/s1600/Bugging15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O4gzQnYg7Zk/UnY125rSnRI/AAAAAAAACgU/EpSVW8LTPHM/s200/Bugging15.jpg" width="164" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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</div>
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</div>
</div>
The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-12308599100608152632013-06-07T22:15:00.000+02:002013-11-04T10:38:21.191+01:00Dial "C" for Carrots<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rJEfRYIbRWI/UaYFulS-slI/AAAAAAAACY4/pi_neO4kAPQ/s1600/Carrots4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rJEfRYIbRWI/UaYFulS-slI/AAAAAAAACY4/pi_neO4kAPQ/s640/Carrots4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The sun was shining, a light breeze was blowing from the east, and it was a balmy 15 degrees according to Auntie's lucky deer thermometer that was hanging from a post in the back yard. I'd won it in playing bingo a few years ago so it's always had a place of honour in the yard. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4zZjoSc67MQ/UbIq58rxijI/AAAAAAAACaA/DRFTogTZgaA/s1600/Carrots10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4zZjoSc67MQ/UbIq58rxijI/AAAAAAAACaA/DRFTogTZgaA/s400/Carrots10.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So as you can see, the day was as perfect as it could be for baking carrot cakes, four of them in total, all destined for my fund raising bake table at the<a href="http://www.glebeca.ca/events/garage_sale_faq.html" target="_blank"> annual Great Glebe Garage Sale.</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Auntie's heart was singing and preparations were progressing nicely but when it came time to grate the carrots it all came to a screeching halt. Imagine Auntie's dismay when I noticed that one of the three bags of carrots I'd bought from my local supermarket the day before seemed a lot lighter than the others.</div>
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This wasn't good. Auntie needed every gram of those carrots to make four carrot cakes.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HsxAKB2pa8c/UaYFt8KYPfI/AAAAAAAACYs/8FZ3QynSLQU/s1600/Carrots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HsxAKB2pa8c/UaYFt8KYPfI/AAAAAAAACYs/8FZ3QynSLQU/s400/Carrots.jpg" width="400" /></a>Just to make sure I wasn't imagining things, which Auntie sometimes does, I pulled out my scale and weighed that bag of carrots. Sure enough, something was wrong. It should have weighed almost a kilo but it didn't. As you know, Auntie takes baking very seriously so too few carrots in her carrot cakes would never do.</div>
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I threw on my coat and hat, ready to head out the door to buy more carrots when I noticed a phone number on one of the bags. Hmm, I thought. Maybe if I explain the situation someone can send me some emergency carrots!</div>
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Auntie is a bit cynical these days when it comes to customer service. Sadly, it's a lost art but with a jolt of optimism, no doubt fuelled by the cheery prospect of baking all day, I thought what the heck. It was a free phone call and maybe the Green Giant himself would answer. Wouldn't that have made Auntie's day?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-paBhRfiVhso/UaYFt8hMdAI/AAAAAAAACY0/JTsHFzm793E/s1600/Carrots3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-paBhRfiVhso/UaYFt8hMdAI/AAAAAAAACY0/JTsHFzm793E/s640/Carrots3.jpg" width="417" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Safe from squirrels and little fingers</td></tr>
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Auntie has always had a place in her heart for the Green Giant. When Auntie was a little girl she sent away for a 5-foot tall stuffed Jolly Green Giant and it was her very favourite thing for a long time. Auntie's fondness for vegetables and big green men in leafy togas goes way back.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1TH20pcTGp0/UaYRhxNb7LI/AAAAAAAACZg/__THCGJnMAk/s1600/Carrots8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1TH20pcTGp0/UaYRhxNb7LI/AAAAAAAACZg/__THCGJnMAk/s400/Carrots8.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There go to two lucky ladies with the last pieces of carrot cake</td></tr>
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While I dialled the number on the bag, I was expecting to hear a recorded message like "press one for peas, two for corn, three for carrots" but instead, a very nice lady named Julie answered. </div>
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I told Julie the sad tale of the light bag of carrots and instead of laughing, she was very sympathetic and apologised.</div>
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After I hung up the phone with Julie, Auntie discovered a few loose carrots in the vegetable crisper so off came my hat and coat and out came the grater again. When I finished grating and weighing the carrots, I had just enough to make all four carrot cakes. Phew.<br />
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A few days later on a sunny Saturday morning during the Great Glebe Garage Sale, Auntie sold all four carrot cakes, one slice at a time, each topped with a hand-made carrot made of white chocolate. For a few hours, I made many people very happy while raising lots of loot for Auntie and Uncle Jim's <a href="http://www.nepalyouthfoundation.org/" target="_blank">favourite charity.</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cyercGWI_10/UaYFt71TVEI/AAAAAAAACYk/Xt0aSBh_VRA/s1600/Carrots2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="560" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cyercGWI_10/UaYFt71TVEI/AAAAAAAACYk/Xt0aSBh_VRA/s640/Carrots2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One pound of carrots = one carrot cake = 16 happy customers</td></tr>
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One morning, a few days after the sale, Auntie heard a clacking at the mailbox and guess what? Julie sent me a coupon for more carrots!<br />
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Isn't that nice? I think Uncle Jim may be getting a nice carrot cake soon.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lEIoatqpAFE/UaYHJg2p_5I/AAAAAAAACZM/Ju8XScC7nME/s1600/Carrots6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lEIoatqpAFE/UaYHJg2p_5I/AAAAAAAACZM/Ju8XScC7nME/s640/Carrots6.jpg" width="488" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zmdICBXEZJ4/UaYZ1dXHthI/AAAAAAAACZw/5MexVFjg_7I/s1600/Carrots9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zmdICBXEZJ4/UaYZ1dXHthI/AAAAAAAACZw/5MexVFjg_7I/s200/Carrots9.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-39549070471223351532013-04-23T16:29:00.000+02:002013-04-24T11:36:20.740+02:00Maya Visits Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c_edYpAMaPw/UXaBYH0LtdI/AAAAAAAACVQ/MKrvaqJbrdQ/s1600/Nieces+Visit21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c_edYpAMaPw/UXaBYH0LtdI/AAAAAAAACVQ/MKrvaqJbrdQ/s640/Nieces+Visit21.jpg" width="550" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.francparler.com/syntagme.php?id=237" target="_blank"><i>Vingt dieux, la belle église!</i></a> When was the last time you received a thank you note from a visiting 12 year old niece? Seems that her Finishing School tuition wasn't wasted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maya's thank you note is also today's guest post entitled, <i>The Sacre Coeur Economy.</i> It's an enlightened perspective of her first trip to Paris where she and her Mom zipped to by high speed train <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.com/2013/04/two-nieces-visit.html" target="_blank">after visiting Uncle Jim and I</a> in the south of France. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thank you sweetheart. You can guest post for Auntie any time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Sacre Coeur Economy</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15pt;">Dear Auntie:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"> I
thank you enormously for your invitation to guest post, although I had some
trouble deciding what to write about, I have come to a conclusion of writing
about the Sacre Coeur, an enormous church and the area surrounding, because you
were not there for it, and because it was my favourite place to drink
cappuccinos at cafés and laugh at other stupid tourists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face"; font-size: 15pt;"><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Anyway,
the Sacre Coeur was about ten blocks away from our hotel, and the area
surrounding it is like what silly tourists get into their silly heads about
Paris.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">In truth, Paris is just like New
York, only much better architecture, and everyone speaks French. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Baskerville Old Face"; font-size: 15pt;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6nr3_RxaUZ4/UXZ1hHvINCI/AAAAAAAACTY/e5col0JFW7I/s1600/image001.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6nr3_RxaUZ4/UXZ1hHvINCI/AAAAAAAACTY/e5col0JFW7I/s400/image001.png" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hotel was unusually coloured</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 15.0pt;">So, on day two, we walk up the tiny, twisting pathways filled to the brim with busy, bustling
people, and then suddenly half of the population spoke English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had reached what I like to call the Sacre
Coeur Economy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"> The
streets were packed with mildly crazy tourists, and we found ourselves amidst a
crowd, being helplessly shoved up the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We pass two mimes and a lady with a cart covered from top to bottom in
flowers, playing an accordion.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t-Mts7IiP7A/UXZ4JCJVZFI/AAAAAAAACU4/l7sA9D-TLCQ/s1600/MayaPost+Photos+Collage+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="444" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t-Mts7IiP7A/UXZ4JCJVZFI/AAAAAAAACU4/l7sA9D-TLCQ/s640/MayaPost+Photos+Collage+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"> Then, my Mom shouts, and I follow her
finger to one of the most magnificent towers ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this point, we were only a block away and were already gaping
with mouths as wide as fishes.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w_Gpb1YGtPA/UXZ1lt_WDOI/AAAAAAAACUI/B3DDwOdMeeU/s1600/image013.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w_Gpb1YGtPA/UXZ1lt_WDOI/AAAAAAAACUI/B3DDwOdMeeU/s640/image013.png" width="484" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jedYFeS3ozE/UXZ1ld3AnqI/AAAAAAAACT8/62XegRsXhyc/s1600/image011.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jedYFeS3ozE/UXZ1ld3AnqI/AAAAAAAACT8/62XegRsXhyc/s640/image011.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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view of –and from- the magnificent Sacre Coeur</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 15pt;"> So of course Mom wanted to go to the
top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three hundred spiralling steps up,
and three hundred spiralling steps down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The view was stunning, and even through the pollution and clouds, I
could make out the faint outline of the Eiffel Tower.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another amazing thing about the Sacre Coeur Economy: the shops</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"> I would also like to thank you for not only
allowing me to write this, but for giving me no other option but to have a
marvellous time – Uncle Jim, you too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15pt;"> I
look forward to next time,<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8366545421675745353" name="_GoBack"></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15pt;">Love
and hugs,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15.0pt;">Maya.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 15pt;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XZUfcSGN3FU/UXaWopaizRI/AAAAAAAACV8/xWjgzyVHOsY/s1600/Maya+Post2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="164" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XZUfcSGN3FU/UXaWopaizRI/AAAAAAAACV8/xWjgzyVHOsY/s200/Maya+Post2.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-6503235803130082402013-04-23T16:28:00.000+02:002013-04-23T16:37:22.176+02:00Two Nieces Visit Auntie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Niece-ling visits the Auntie. Let the spoiling begin!</td></tr>
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It was a rare, "three generations under the same roof" week for Auntie and Uncle Jim, four if you count the fruit flies who arrived on some bananas a few days prior.<br />
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Our fabulous niece Tina and her equally fabulous daughter Maya jetted half way around the world to visit us at our seaside shack in the south of France. Uncle Jim can count all of his relatives, both distant and close, on his fingers and toes so how lucky were we to have a thumb and pinkie to spoil at the same time? </div>
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The last time niece Tina and niece-ling Maya visited was in 2002 when Maya was just a wee kitten. Celine pointed to the kitchen doorway where almost 11 years ago to the day, Maya stood still just long enough for Auntie to mark her height on the door jamb. I had completely forgotten about doing that. She was under three feet tall at the time.</div>
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While we stood there, marvelling at the mark, a few things came to mind: boy, time sure flies, followed by, I'll have to have a word with the cleaning lady.</div>
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We made the most of our short time together. I sent Maya up a tree or two to pick lemons and oranges, we baked a cake, she ate <i>Moules</i> and <i>Crêpes Suzette</i> and we haggled in French for souvenirs at a <i>Vide Grenier</i> or giant garage sale.<br />
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We had a "three country day" where after waking up and having breakfast in
France, we drove through Italy and had lunch in The
Principality of Seborga where niece-ling fearlessly ate wild boar and we met a little dog that was so adorable we plotted to kidnap it.</div>
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On the sunniest day, we all jumped in a helicopter, cameras in hand,
and zoomed around in the sky, as
one does on a sunny day, to get a new perspective on the world.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You make a diversion and I'll grab the dog</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bargain hunting for souvenirs at the <i>Vide Grenier</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to say goodbye</td></tr>
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Then, all of a sudden, we looked at Auntie's cat calendar and realized the party was over and it was
time for them to leave. Next stop, Paris on the high speed TGV train.</div>
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I asked Maya to write about her trip to Paris and she wrote <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.com/2013/04/maya-visits-paris.html" target="_blank">a guest post for Auntie entitled, <i>The Sacre Coeur Economy.</i></a></div>
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I foresee a brilliant and adventurous life for Maya and I hope she'll write more posts for The Auntie Times.<br />
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Thanks sweetheart. You can visit any time.<br />
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XO, Auntie</div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-84749960500959752592013-03-02T17:25:00.000+01:002013-03-02T17:41:57.779+01:00Wet Cement<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Who can resist the lure of fresh wet cement? Auntie sure can't! </div>
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On our way to do some shopping in downtown Menton yesterday, Uncle Jim and I were making our way through the narrow streets of the old town when about half way there, our passage was blocked by 3 burly workmen wearing dirty coveralls covered in what looked like white dust. </div>
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One of the men was pushing a wheelbarrow, one had a hose in his hands, and the other was bent down mixing something in a big black tray. As we got closer, we could see that they were in the middle of repaving the surface of the narrow street directly in front of us. </div>
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We were about to turn back when one of the men said, "it's OK to pass, just be careful, there's wet cement." Oops. Auntie was wearing a new pair of black Italian shoes!</div>
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While we were carefully tip toeing around the wet cement, Auntie had an idea. </div>
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I put a big smile on my face and asked, "may I step in it?" Just so there was no misunderstanding, I lifted my foot and let it hover over a smooth patch in the corner. </div>
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Much to Auntie's
surprise, they said "yes!" </div>
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It was pure co incidence that earlier in the week, Auntie was watching an old episode of the TV show, <i>I Love Lucy</i> from 1955<i> </i>in which Lucy decided she needed a souvenir from Hollywood to bring back to New York. Most people would have brought home a t-shirt or snow dome but not Lucy! There she was, in the middle of the night with her friend Ethyl, at <a href="http://www.tclchinesetheatres.com/decade/1920s/" target="_blank">Graumann's Chinese Theatre</a>, prying off the concrete slab with John Wayne's hands and feet imprinted on it. </div>
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Immortalizing oneself in concrete has been going on there for a long time. </div>
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It all started in 1927 when Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks stuck their hands and feet in wet concrete and since then, two hundred and eight actors, actresses and entertainers have been honoured and immortalized in the same way. Michael Jackson was the latest when in January of 2012 his shoes and glitter glove were pressed into the wet cement <i>in absentia</i> by his children. </div>
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Well, here was Auntie's chance at fame but since I was wearing good shoes, I decided to stick my hand in the wet concrete instead. The concrete was wet, very cold, and it was a lot of fun. </div>
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When I got back up, we all paused to see my handiwork and shared a laugh. Uncle Jim handed me a tissue to wipe my hand and we all went on our merry way. </div>
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This morning, curiosity drew Uncle Jim and I down the same route into town today. We were dying to see if the workers left my hand print but alas, it seems that after we'd left, the workers had put the finishing touches on the path and smoothed over my hand print. It was but a sweet memory.<br />
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It seems Auntie wasn't the only one attracted by the lure of wet cement that day. Something with four paws and whiskers left it's mark instead!</div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-23729455452543890322013-02-08T10:35:00.000+01:002013-02-12T21:03:49.942+01:00Falling Ahead with the Times<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 2000's are calling and they want their phone back</td></tr>
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The other day Auntie and Uncle Jim were on a double date with friends Geoff and Christine and Auntie became the laughing stock of the dinner table. </div>
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While we were waiting for our salads to arrive, the subject turned towards cell phones and everyone pulled out his phone to compare Apps and show off some photos.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I miss my Walkman so...</td></tr>
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Well, there was Auntie with her ancient little Samsung phone, the one that she'd bought about 10 years ago with the little silver bear charm hanging on the end, right next to the antenna.</div>
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"<i>That's</i> your phone?" Geoff asked accusingly mixed with peals of laughter.</div>
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Well, I never! You'd think I'd been carrying around two tin cans and a string in my purse. Well, I guess compared to their shiny new iPhones, I was. </div>
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Ah well, Auntie took all the laughter in the spirit that it was intended: ridicule.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good old</td></tr>
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How had I fallen so far behind the times?</div>
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The funny thing is that in all other ways, Auntie is quite the modern miss. I have three blogs, a facebook page and two twitter feeds. I even saw <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bZkp7q19f0" target="_blank">PSY's <i>Gangnam Style</i> video on YouTube</a> when it had under 100,000 views. Now it's nearing 1.3 billion. Where did I go wrong?</div>
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With laughter still ringing in my ears, Uncle Jim kindly offered to
buy me an iPhone 5 and Auntie readily agreed. This zip-lined Auntie into the modern age and now I can't put my phone down. </div>
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The truth is that these days it's hard to keep up with all the new ways of doing things.<br />
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Do you remember record players? Auntie does. <br />
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After listening to one side of the record, which took about 15 minutes or so, you had to get up and flip the record over to play the other side. Television offered the same chance for vigorous exercise. If you wanted to change channels, you had to push the cat off your lap, get up out of your easy chair, walk across the room and flip a knob.</div>
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While watching TV and listening to records were both good ways to get exercise, now we sit like statues and manage our <i>video content</i> and MP3 files in our <i>Clouds</i> so there's no need to flip anything except your lid when your WiFi goes on the fritz or your download speeds are too pokey.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in the good old days when iPods had click wheels</td></tr>
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I often think about all the things in life that are both old and good: fine wine, architecture, grandparents, and unwatched episodes of your favourite old-time TV shows.<br />
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And how about everything that's both new and good in life like kittens,<br />
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apples, friends, and new episodes of your favourite modern TV shows?<br />
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Sometimes, it's fun to find a happy mix of both like this nifty USB typewriter that Uncle Jim found on the internet. If you have an old Underwood typewriter lying around, you can <a href="http://www.usbtypewriter.com/" target="_blank">convert it into a keyboard</a>
for your iPad. Imagine being able to hear the "clickity clak" of the
typewriter keys and all those "likes" you'll generate when you update your
<b>facebook</b> status to "just got a new typewriter!" Just make sure your don't slap your iPad off its stand when you should hit the "enter" key instead.<br />
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Uncle Jim is in many ways a thoroughly modern man and owns an iPad but strangely, he's never owned an iPhone. After a bit of delicate questioning, I learned he has a little disability that plagues many people of his generation: his fingertips aren't pointy enough to use the keypad. Poor Uncle Jim!<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gc16d3ayU7Y/URSiPSnzn2I/AAAAAAAACLs/qytKBOKFAeI/s1600/Falling+Ahead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gc16d3ayU7Y/URSiPSnzn2I/AAAAAAAACLs/qytKBOKFAeI/s400/Falling+Ahead.jpg" width="400" /></a>All is not lost though. You'll be pleased to know that while we were in Hong Kong, we bought some nifty finger cones that are all the rage there. Wearing these cones on your fingers over night will reshape your round fingertips in no time and they're guaranteed to make them pointy enough for an iPhone keyboard. Fortunately, the cost of the cones is covered by his health insurance. <br />
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Good old. The house phone from the Balmoral Hotel in Edinburgh</div>
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Of course this doesn't mean that we can't hold on to things from
the past that bring us happiness and joy like old friends, antique tea cups and vintage Pucci dresses.<br />
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We should just be open to new things and new adventures that will enrich and improve our lives.<br />
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As one of my favourite animated characters, Edna Mode would say, "I never look back, darling! It distracts from the now."<br />
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I couldn't say it better myself! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stop fighting girls! There are plenty of those to go around</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, "Like That." All is well in the modern age - for now...</td></tr>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-78815280712902663092013-01-13T22:28:00.000+01:002013-01-13T22:40:33.769+01:00A Curious Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well the end of the year sure did creep up on Auntie. Did it creep up on you?</div>
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Seems like one minute 2012 was rolling merrily along and the next, I was pulling streamers from the chandeliers, tossing champagne bottles into the recycle bin and tacking up my new 2013 "page a day" cat calendar.</div>
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Well, I know it's customary at this time of year to take a look back and reminisce about past posts but Auntie has a little secret to tell you... I saw a lot of strange things last year that I've been too busy to tell you about.<br />
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So in the spirit of the original Auntie Times, I've put together a few little stories to amuse you and brighten your day.</div>
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By the way, my new year's resolution for 2013 is to share more little stories with you throughout the year. I'm sure this will last longer than my new year's diet.</div>
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Uncle Jim and I wish you a healthy and prosperous 2013 and that it looks something like this:<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1QcexeKhzQQ/UPMfJ3H50AI/AAAAAAAACIU/WZptkmg94LQ/s1600/Calendar4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1QcexeKhzQQ/UPMfJ3H50AI/AAAAAAAACIU/WZptkmg94LQ/s400/Calendar4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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So put on your spectacles and let's take a look at the curious year that was 2012.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Strange Pod Takes Over the Dining Room</b></span></span> </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_5Us7LKZQLE/UPLHEAo5P_I/AAAAAAAAB_U/Si6N14MwgCw/s1600/A+Curious+Year26Drop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_5Us7LKZQLE/UPLHEAo5P_I/AAAAAAAAB_U/Si6N14MwgCw/s640/A+Curious+Year26Drop.jpg" width="483" /></a></div>
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When Auntie and Uncle Jim were out walking in the mountains one day, we spotted a pretty vine that had twisted its way through an old rusty fence. </div>
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There were some interesting fat green pods hanging all over that vine so we snapped one off, tucked it in my knapsack and headed home thinking that I'd look it up on the internet to see what it was and if I could cook with it. Food foraging is a favourite little pastime for Auntie.</div>
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Well, things didn't go quite as I'd planned.</div>
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Auntie got busy with other things that day and I forgot all about that little pod until a few days later. By then, the pod had split to reveal pretty rows of brown seeds. It reminded me of a milkweed pod but this was much bigger.</div>
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After Uncle Jim marvelled at it and Auntie took a few pictures, I left it on a tray in the dining room and I got busy and forgot all about it again. </div>
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Two days later, Celine came running into my office. She said I should come quickly - there was something strange in the dining room. </div>
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Well what a surprise! Those brown seeds had started to creep out of the pod all on their own and each of them had a big fluffy parachute attached. </div>
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At the rate it was puffing, we calculated that the dining room would be full of fluff by the end of the week. </div>
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There was only one thing we could do. Celine pulled out the vacuum and she sucked away all those seeds and fluff. Phew. That was close!</div>
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Come to think of it, I'd better ask Celine to go check the vacuum bag. There's no telling what they've gotten up to in the dark.</div>
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That's the last time Auntie brings one of those home!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Meet "Happy" the Nut Cracking Dog</b></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MjJ-ljJw8MQ/UPLPMquY6MI/AAAAAAAACBU/FBkEXCTNgcE/s1600/A+Curious+Year30Drop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MjJ-ljJw8MQ/UPLPMquY6MI/AAAAAAAACBU/FBkEXCTNgcE/s640/A+Curious+Year30Drop.jpg" width="483" /></a></div>
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Do you remember Gilbert, the man who
sells eggs in the market in Monaco? Well Gilbert has a new puppy named
"Happy" and he's one talented dog!</div>
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Every
fall, Gilbert brings walnuts to the market to sell and it seems that
his new puppy Happy likes the walnuts just as much as Auntie does.</div>
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If
you give Happy a walnut, he takes it in his mouth, cracks it with his
powerful jaws, spits it all out, picks out the nut to eat and leaves the
shell behind. </div>
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Hmm. Maybe Happy can help Auntie crack all those nuts I bought from Gilbert. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Cat Tails</b></span><br />
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Well, someone made a mistake at the cat factory when this little fella rolled down the assembly line. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>On Dasher, on Cancer...</b></span></div>
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If you drive, or walk, from France into Italy these days, the first building you'll find across the border besides the dilapidated 70's style check point building is a little gas station, café and Italian food shop all rolled into one.</div>
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Everyone who works there is always cranky and brusque with customers and lately they've been wearing brand new t-shirts with "Go Away" printed in big letters across the front. Maybe they were a Christmas present from the owner.</div>
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But despite the bad service and crabby staff, there are always long line ups at the cigarette counter with hoards of French people buying cheap Italian ciggies for a fraction of what they cost in France.</div>
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Well, for the festive season, they put a Christmas tree out front and decorated it with empty soda cans and cigarette packages.</div>
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Well, it certainly captured the spirit of the place!</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>A Well Dressed Cat</b></span></div>
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If you're looking for a date Miss Kitty, Auntie knows a cat with a white coat and a nice tail....<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Happy Dancing Fund Raising Guy</span></b><br />
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On a recent trip to London, this fine fellow was in front of the big Selfridges department store asking passers by to give money to his charity.</div>
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He donned a colourful wig and did a little happy dance hoping for big donations. Well, it worked. Auntie emptied her wallet into his red bucket.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">A Menacing Bunny</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Auntie Loses her Head</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sit! Beg!</span></b><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bGqE3uplVic/UPLe6UDlnrI/AAAAAAAACEc/12i1FKoNb1c/s1600/A+Curious+Year39+Begging+DogDROP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="332" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bGqE3uplVic/UPLe6UDlnrI/AAAAAAAACEc/12i1FKoNb1c/s640/A+Curious+Year39+Begging+DogDROP.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Brother can you spare a bone?<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Who Killed Auntie's Donkey?</b></span><br />
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The investigation continues in an effort to apprehend the culprit who killed Auntie's vintage yellow donkey this summer.<br />
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Prime suspects are Uncle Jim and a few of the neighbourhood cats.<br />
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A reward has been offered.<br />
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-6087940864712230252012-12-24T15:01:00.000+01:002013-03-08T21:39:39.277+01:00Merry Christmas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yox0o0yNClg/UNhWAiR-80I/AAAAAAAABxU/U_uBpHw_vZQ/s1600/Christmas+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="624" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yox0o0yNClg/UNhWAiR-80I/AAAAAAAABxU/U_uBpHw_vZQ/s640/Christmas+2012.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ah, sweet memories... </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Remember what it was like to sneak downstairs before dawn on Christmas day, seeing that Santa had enjoyed his cookies and milk and then finding piles of gifts under the tree? Thank goodness some of them had your name on the tag. Phew!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Uncle Jim and Auntie wish all our nieces, nephews, readers of the Auntie Times and all cats, tabby and otherwise, a joy filled holiday and that everything you wish for comes true.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">xo,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Auntie and Uncle Jim</span></div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-66347889431112128412012-11-19T23:00:00.000+01:002012-12-13T20:33:14.870+01:00Red, White and Fun all Over!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-poiw7M3-8ek/UKFcjKP2tTI/AAAAAAAABrw/cnCjXtrCsTw/s1600/FunFair28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-poiw7M3-8ek/UKFcjKP2tTI/AAAAAAAABrw/cnCjXtrCsTw/s640/FunFair28.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Today is November 19th and a very important day for <span class="st"><i>les Monégasques</i></span>, the citizens of Monaco. </div>
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It's Monaco's National Day and everywhere you look, red and white flags
are fluttering from balconies and windows, children are eating big
cookies covered in red and white sprinkles and the Prince and Princess
along with the entire royal family make a brief appearance at the palace
windows for their annual wave at their loyal subjects.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-74W0wX5KHx8/UKqSQH5nHLI/AAAAAAAABwg/p9C6S3s2NqM/s1600/FunFair40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-74W0wX5KHx8/UKqSQH5nHLI/AAAAAAAABwg/p9C6S3s2NqM/s640/FunFair40.jpg" width="579" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9j9N2ZBzNLo/UKqSGSI4EhI/AAAAAAAABwY/N5H0Ulng5rc/s1600/FunFair39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9j9N2ZBzNLo/UKqSGSI4EhI/AAAAAAAABwY/N5H0Ulng5rc/s640/FunFair39.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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While all of that traditional hubbub is fun for the first eight or nine
times, the real action is just a stone's throw away in <i>Port Hercule</i>, the exact same place where multi million dollar race cars zoom around competing in Monaco's annual Grand
Prix in May. </div>
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So, what could be more exciting than all the commotion at the palace? Monaco's <a href="http://www.monaco-mairie.mc/en/langues-etrangeres/pole-animation/the-fun-fair/" target="_blank">Annual Fun Fair</a> of course! Monaco's National Day always marks the last day of the three week Fun Fair and since it was the last day, Auntie and Uncle
Jim high tailed it to the Port to try our hands at winning a stuffed animal or two and enjoy an afternoon snack. Even though Uncle Jim was happy to go to the Fair with Auntie, I think Uncle Jim would take the Grand Prix over a ride on the bumper cars any day! </div>
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The Fun Fair is a bit like a North American County Fair,
filled with wild rides, games, junk food and lots of people but without the
traditional agricultural component, baking competitions and smelly barns.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-biORvGzgddo/UKpBjubBrvI/AAAAAAAABtU/zzH9DOcswXA/s1600/FunFair38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-biORvGzgddo/UKpBjubBrvI/AAAAAAAABtU/zzH9DOcswXA/s400/FunFair38.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sharpshooting Auntie won a nice Princess mug</td></tr>
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Auntie loves to play the games. </div>
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Remember the <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.fr/2011/02/theres-no-place-like-gnome.html" target="_blank">Derby Race where Auntie won a gnome</a>
for all of her friends last year ? Well Auntie lost at the Derby Game
this year so there are no nice new gnomes for anyone this year. </div>
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But all was not lost. Due to dedicated target practice at the shooting range, this year Auntie shot out the centre of 3 targets with a 22-calibre rifle and won a pretty Princess mug. Easy peasy!</div>
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Playing all those games can work up your appetite. If you have a sweet tooth, you'll find clouds of Cotton candy bigger than your head in 10 different flavours, feather light doughnuts, crêpes with Nutella or Grand Marnier sprinkled on top, crunchy churros, and then wash it all down with some wine or beer. On Thursday my friend Diana bought 6 candy apples and they were all gone by Saturday! </div>
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I'll confess that Uncle Jim and I love sharing a big plate of delicious <a href="http://gustia-food-finds-feasts.blogspot.fr/2011/06/socca-in-ottawa-mais-oui.html" target="_blank">Socca</a> and for dessert,
some sugar coated yeast doughnuts that are as light as air and made while you watch. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GYTMbuBJhXk/UKpCR03CIGI/AAAAAAAABtk/17aSCctbf8Y/s1600/FunFair31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GYTMbuBJhXk/UKpCR03CIGI/AAAAAAAABtk/17aSCctbf8Y/s400/FunFair31.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rules of Hop Hop</td></tr>
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While Auntie is good at the shooting games, Uncle Jim's an expert at the "Hop Hop" game. Many years ago, we met the guy who owns the Hop Hop game and he told us that his grandparents started the Hop Hop game and now he and his wife, and their deaf and blind dog continue the tradition and travel all over France bringing the Hop Hop game to Fun Fairs all around France. </div>
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To play the Hop Hop game, you pay <span class="st">€</span>5 and the nice Hop Hop guy hands you about 15 plastic rings, each ring is about the diameter of a cantaloupe. You stand at the edge of the Hop Hop booth and throw the rings at different do-dads that are each perched on top of little stands. There are about 100 different things to chose from, from an iPod to a long sausage!</div>
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It may sound easy but to win, the ring needs to go all the way around the stand, not just rest on the top of do-dad.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jwLcEdlWpH0/UKpm19PLDeI/AAAAAAAABvo/UfKibVldWF0/s1600/FunFaiDOGCollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jwLcEdlWpH0/UKpm19PLDeI/AAAAAAAABvo/UfKibVldWF0/s640/FunFaiDOGCollage.jpg" width="458" /></a></div>
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Of all the things there were to win, Auntie liked a cute little light up dog and Uncle Jim went to work trying to win it for Auntie.<br />
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Uncle Jim threw one ring after another. "Paff," "ping," "zoop" went the rings, bouncing here and there. Auntie was starting to worry that she'd never have that little dog.</div>
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Sweat popped up in little drops on Uncle Jim's brow. He'd already thrown almost all of his rings and hadn't won yet. Uncle Jim had good aim. but the darned rings kept landing on the dog and got stuck there and didn't fall to the bottom of the stand. </div>
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Auntie's nerves were frayed. When Uncle Jim only had one ring left, he paused and took a deep breath. Auntie kissed him for good luck. Maybe she shouldn't have. A nice kiss could be distracting for Uncle Jim. The Hop Hop guy stopped what he was doing to watch too. Uncle Jim furrowed his brow and squinted. You could tell that he was concentrating with all his might. Uncle Jim lifted his arm, threw his last ring and ... Yeah! It landed on the dog and dropped all the way to the bottom! Uncle Jim won the light up dog for Auntie with his last ring! </div>
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I've become quite fond of the little dog. It changes colours every few seconds and it has become one of Auntie's favourite things and a nice memory of this year's Fun Fair. In fact, Auntie has kept it lit so much that the dog is almost all worn out and the colours are starting to look a bit pale. Time to change the battery.</div>
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Last year we won gnomes at the Fair. This year it's a charming light up dog. Who knows what we'll win next year? Maybe a giant stuffed tiger or a goldfish in a bowl.</div>
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I'd better ask Uncle Jim to start training now. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qjaYVsqq1Q0/UKFaazQSxjI/AAAAAAAABq4/GyeSJA6_C-g/s1600/FunFair16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="482" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qjaYVsqq1Q0/UKFaazQSxjI/AAAAAAAABq4/GyeSJA6_C-g/s640/FunFair16.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eenie meenie miney moe!</td></tr>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92kEQVGlKdY/UKpDBpzDHgI/AAAAAAAABt8/ZRoKUbOMPQU/s1600/FunFairCollage+1+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a63atLFD3XM/UKFbJAtGcGI/AAAAAAAABrI/uCM57SXvs2A/s1600/FunFair21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="482" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a63atLFD3XM/UKFbJAtGcGI/AAAAAAAABrI/uCM57SXvs2A/s640/FunFair21.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4jKccUELUhA/UKFb7ybZDrI/AAAAAAAABrY/ShuWBi8dcsE/s1600/FunFair23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="482" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4jKccUELUhA/UKFb7ybZDrI/AAAAAAAABrY/ShuWBi8dcsE/s640/FunFair23.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chestnuts roasted on an open fire</td></tr>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92kEQVGlKdY/UKpDBpzDHgI/AAAAAAAABt8/ZRoKUbOMPQU/s1600/FunFairCollage+1+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-92kEQVGlKdY/UKpDBpzDHgI/AAAAAAAABt8/ZRoKUbOMPQU/s640/FunFairCollage+1+.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gZl9_ODAu4M/UKpCmvnCEoI/AAAAAAAABts/Pn3DWCwBrKw/s1600/FunFair33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="482" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gZl9_ODAu4M/UKpCmvnCEoI/AAAAAAAABts/Pn3DWCwBrKw/s640/FunFair33.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_ddZkwQqCRY/UKpC_f2GajI/AAAAAAAABt0/HRYHQfIU3sw/s1600/FunFair37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_ddZkwQqCRY/UKpC_f2GajI/AAAAAAAABt0/HRYHQfIU3sw/s640/FunFair37.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah! The next fair is in Menton!</td></tr>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ToszPr5vwjQ/UKFcRkk5oYI/AAAAAAAABro/NQNoY7WC6V8/s1600/FunFair25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ToszPr5vwjQ/UKFcRkk5oYI/AAAAAAAABro/NQNoY7WC6V8/s640/FunFair25.jpg" width="406" /></a></div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-11162963000964861772012-10-21T16:08:00.000+02:002012-10-21T16:57:30.381+02:00Playing with a Full Deck of Cats<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gedceMzgWy0/UH1_xDptaRI/AAAAAAAABkA/EVh1e-WrLuk/s1600/CatCards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gedceMzgWy0/UH1_xDptaRI/AAAAAAAABkA/EVh1e-WrLuk/s640/CatCards.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Well, would wonders never cease! Cat has turned up again, this time he's back in France, of all places, smack dab in the same country where his story began.</div>
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Isn't it funny how things happen sometimes? Not an hour or so before rediscovering Cat, I was telling new blogger buddy and writer extraordinare <a href="http://lostinarles.blogspot.fr/" target="_blank">Heather of Arles</a> the riveting story of Cat over lunch.</div>
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Do you remember Cat? Of course you do! <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.fr/2011/02/cat-still-missing.html" target="_blank">Cat</a> was the furry feline drifter who
arrived one day at our house in Menton, cost us hundreds of euro for surgery to remove a dangerous tumour,
ate like a pig, became quite fat, and then ran off when we put him on a diet.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dwfY3VULDJ0/UIPrPh_4_qI/AAAAAAAABoI/tTmrPc799Q0/s1600/CatCards7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dwfY3VULDJ0/UIPrPh_4_qI/AAAAAAAABoI/tTmrPc799Q0/s400/CatCards7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing cards for every occasion</td></tr>
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It all started last Saturday when Uncle
Jim and I were visiting Montpellier, a charming city in the south-west of France.<br />
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After lunch, we wandered into an <a href="http://www.tradition-jouet.com/" target="_blank">astounding toy shop</a>. While poking around, I was drawn to a glass display case filled with a beguiling assortment of playing cards and Auntie's keen eyesight fell upon a deck of 3-D cat cards. Of course, Uncle Jim was more than happy to buy Auntie a
little gift. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8anrJymBotg/UH2AqHUN-tI/AAAAAAAABkQ/WqDckM4hQ1A/s1600/CatCards3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8anrJymBotg/UH2AqHUN-tI/AAAAAAAABkQ/WqDckM4hQ1A/s400/CatCards3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
We perched in a little café nearby, ordered tea and cake, and as soon as the waitress scurried off, Auntie tore open the
package.<br />
<br />
There they were, 52 fabulous cards, each with a different cat printed on them. The cards were even better than I was hoping. Along with the 52 cat cards, there were two joker cards but these two jokers were dogs. Ha!<br />
<br />
Uncle Jim eyed the cards suspiciously and pointed out that more accurately, they were <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lenticular_printing" target="_blank">lenticular</a>
cards, not 3-D cards as was claimed on the package.<br />
<br />
Lenticular,
funicular, perpendicular, it didn't matter to Auntie. She was just
happy to have those funny cat cards to play with.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VCl9JJndWdk/UH2APOQcuOI/AAAAAAAABkI/yzdVvxMh6IE/s1600/CatCards2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VCl9JJndWdk/UH2APOQcuOI/AAAAAAAABkI/yzdVvxMh6IE/s320/CatCards2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Auntie shuffled the deck, dealt out 11 cards to Uncle Jim, 11 cards to herself and thus began our first game of "Cat Gin."<br />
<br />
Well,
towards the end of a that first cat-filled game, Auntie considered her options. She needed one
more card to win, the 5 of diamonds. Uncle Jim grinned at Auntie. The air was tense. I think he only needed
one card to win too. Auntie put out her paw and lifted a card off the
top of the pile hoping this would be the right card. What a surprise! Not only was it the 5 of diamonds, the card I needed to win the game, but there was Cat, a little chubbier
than he was the last time I saw him, staring back at Auntie in all his lenticular glory. With that I shouted, "Cat Gin" and lay down my cards.<br />
<br />
Thanks to Cat, Auntie had won the game.<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xBNyzxRsn-s/UH2BCgAyjfI/AAAAAAAABkY/OuOZDMl8ZeY/s1600/CatCards4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xBNyzxRsn-s/UH2BCgAyjfI/AAAAAAAABkY/OuOZDMl8ZeY/s640/CatCards4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Cat Gin!" Auntie wins thanks to Cat!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p9CQo9OG--Q/UIKnUUQI79I/AAAAAAAABlk/9pMj-zzRk98/s1600/CatCards5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p9CQo9OG--Q/UIKnUUQI79I/AAAAAAAABlk/9pMj-zzRk98/s640/CatCards5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
While
Uncle Jim shuffled the deck for our next game, Auntie had time to
reflect on the last time she saw good old Cat. It was in Tokyo a few
years ago. <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.fr/2011/03/cat-spotted-in-tokyo.html" target="_blank">Cat was playing the lead cat in Robert Heinlein's play, <i>The Door into Summer </i>at a theatre in Ginza.</a> Auntie has a little theory as
to how Cat wound up on these playing cards...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bf_HSq44Yzw/UIKnrxprUoI/AAAAAAAABls/cZl3bR6k948/s1600/CatCards6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="346" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bf_HSq44Yzw/UIKnrxprUoI/AAAAAAAABls/cZl3bR6k948/s400/CatCards6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ha ha. The Jokers are dogs!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Since the cards were made in Taiwan, perhaps the Taiwanese business man
who made the 3-D cards was in Tokyo on a business trip. One evening, he took a break from business and decided to see a play. Since he was designing cat cards and was, generally speaking, fond of cats, he bought a ticket to see <i>The Door into Summer.</i><br />
<br />
Mid way thorough the play, Cat entered, stage left. The Taiwanese business man who was starting to doze off after a big dinner of sushi, stood up, pointed at Cat and shouted, "get me that cat!,"
"he'd make a great 5 of diamonds!" The play stopped, a deal was struck, and the rest is history.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Who knows where cat may pop up next? Being immortalized on a deck of playing cards will be a tough act to follow.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bc08Qmwv_Ks/UIPwZUm_3aI/AAAAAAAABpU/VD8PlIRx4DY/s1600/CatCards8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bc08Qmwv_Ks/UIPwZUm_3aI/AAAAAAAABpU/VD8PlIRx4DY/s200/CatCards8.jpg" width="134" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-90219189064409777222012-10-01T22:50:00.000+02:002012-10-08T12:36:04.425+02:00Jesus in the Spokes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9QIsFLXWxzE/UGDRTBjVvII/AAAAAAAABgs/MqysHN2sOBI/s1600/Jesus+in+the+Spokes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9QIsFLXWxzE/UGDRTBjVvII/AAAAAAAABgs/MqysHN2sOBI/s640/Jesus+in+the+Spokes.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Imagine our surprise when Uncle Jim phoned our dear, long time friends Jack and Ann to plan a popcorn-fuelled movie night just to be told that Jack wouldn't be joining us. He'd been in a serious cycling accident. Oh no!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qKIeVrWOjYI/UGDReydU-eI/AAAAAAAABhM/sEy-7KiON1M/s1600/Jesus+in+the+Spokes5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qKIeVrWOjYI/UGDReydU-eI/AAAAAAAABhM/sEy-7KiON1M/s400/Jesus+in+the+Spokes5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
After Uncle Jim hung up, Auntie got the scoop.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Jack had hopped on his bicycle to ride downtown to buy a prop for a photo shoot he was planning for the coming week.<br />
<br />
You see, Jack is a professional photographer and a good one at that.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FBauWPofd00/UGDRb4ZLLwI/AAAAAAAABhE/KLeyzLSowII/s1600/Jesus+in+the+Spokes4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FBauWPofd00/UGDRb4ZLLwI/AAAAAAAABhE/KLeyzLSowII/s400/Jesus+in+the+Spokes4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three of these and you won't feel a thing!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After Jack bought the prop, it started to rain so he put the prop in a bag and hung the bag on the handle bars of his bicycle. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In an strange combination of fate, irony, and just bad luck, the bag with the prop swung into the spokes of his front tire. His bike came to a screeching halt and Jack flipped over the handlebars, ass over tea kettle, splat onto the pavement. Ouch! <br />
<br />
It wasn't a pretty sight.<br />
<br />
At the hospital the news was grim.<br />
<br />
Jack had a broken rib, a collapsed lung and a broken collar bone.<br />
<br />
Poor Jack.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<br />
Auntie and Uncle Jim jumped in our car and zoomed to the hospital to visit Jack, bring him some of Auntie's ginger cookies and cheer him up. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lJtuXDPfrxs/UGguwCsZe5I/AAAAAAAABh8/ovYoJM0dUTI/s1600/Crucifix2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lJtuXDPfrxs/UGguwCsZe5I/AAAAAAAABh8/ovYoJM0dUTI/s640/Crucifix2.jpg" width="369" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wrong place at the wrong time</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When we arrived, Jack was lying in his hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines. He looked quite pale and had tubes sticking out of him here and there, making him look like a cross between a pin cushion and a Cyborg. Not a pretty sight! <br />
<br />
Despite the gravity of the situation, Jack was concious and in good spirits, no doubt helped along by regular doses of pain medication and attentive, pretty nurses.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
The bedside conversation bounced along and Auntie's curiosity got the better of her. Auntie needed to know what was at the root of all this mayhem.<br />
<br />
"What was in the bag that swung into your spokes, Jack?" I asked.<br />
<br />
"Oh, a crucifix."<br />
<br />
Auntie's jaw dropped.<br />
<br />
"A <i>crucifix</i>?" I asked.<br />
<br />
"A crucifix." replied Jack. "I was going to use it for a photo shoot I was planning." <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Auntie couldn't believe her ears.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JJkpHOKEiTM/UGDRWvPbu8I/AAAAAAAABg0/uzNxx8bgBgI/s1600/Jesus+in+the+Spokes2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JJkpHOKEiTM/UGDRWvPbu8I/AAAAAAAABg0/uzNxx8bgBgI/s400/Jesus+in+the+Spokes2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your time is up!<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Did Jesus have it out for Jack with some sort of a karmic message? Hopefully not. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, we can all breathe a sigh of relief now that Jack is on the mend, with nothing more than a few scars, a broken bicycle, a scratched up crucifix and a riveting cocktail story.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, as with any dramatic event that intersects with your life, Auntie learned a few things from Jack's experience: First, we are very lucky to have caring people to help us mend, whether they are doctors, nurses, bystanders or good friends. And two, if you need a crucifix, have it delivered.<br />
<br />
Safety first boys and girls!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k6XQWP4NTTg/UGn6W1hbR4I/AAAAAAAABjQ/dix3ljOmYjc/s1600/Jesus+in+the+Spokes7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k6XQWP4NTTg/UGn6W1hbR4I/AAAAAAAABjQ/dix3ljOmYjc/s320/Jesus+in+the+Spokes7.jpg" width="136" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
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<br />
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-607505660032734732012-09-09T22:29:00.000+02:002012-09-24T22:48:55.327+02:00Youth with a Mission<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_eQSrUWx0to/T-UWlGx2gWI/AAAAAAAABTE/2PU2Y2iqTCw/s1600/Youth3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="473" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_eQSrUWx0to/T-UWlGx2gWI/AAAAAAAABTE/2PU2Y2iqTCw/s640/Youth3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Can you believe how quickly this summer has flown by? Auntie can't. It seems
like just yesterday I was blowing up pool toys, setting out lawn furniture and stringing up my Tiki lamps!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EXmcIHl3mpE/T-UWjsMQBWI/AAAAAAAABS8/WD5JcFiSZZA/s1600/Youth2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EXmcIHl3mpE/T-UWjsMQBWI/AAAAAAAABS8/WD5JcFiSZZA/s320/Youth2.jpg" width="320" /></a>With the end of summer comes the beginning of a new
school year for the youngins. One by one and in groups, they scampered by my house on Tuesday morning en route to their first day of school.<br />
<br />
The little ones, accompanied by their smiling parents, were all kitted out with shiny new backpacks and unscuffed shoes. The older ones slunked by, either alone, or in groups of friends. This back to school parade gave Auntie a chance to contemplate the younger generation...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PINPo0xmnpM/T-UWhZzJX4I/AAAAAAAABS0/Vb4sNzNkcXE/s1600/Youth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PINPo0xmnpM/T-UWhZzJX4I/AAAAAAAABS0/Vb4sNzNkcXE/s400/Youth.jpg" width="400" /></a>If you believe
everything you read, today's youngsters are nothing but a bunch of marauding,
hoodie wearing bandits, lazy as sloths except for the energy they can
drum up to check their Facebook, text their friends, and lift Cheetos
and cola to their insatiable mouths. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Auntie knows
better than that. Thanks to nieces and neighbours, this summer Auntie attended two eye-opening events for youth that were very different from each other but at the same time, both offered opportunities to lay the groundwork for a very optimistic future.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7oh5jk5Z4_Q/UEzPLw2bi3I/AAAAAAAABfc/Jsr_1ix-XFM/s1600/Youth4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7oh5jk5Z4_Q/UEzPLw2bi3I/AAAAAAAABfc/Jsr_1ix-XFM/s320/Youth4.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Commandant Mark Watson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Not far from the airport in Ottawa, down a
long, long road past an expansive lawn with big, noisy jets flying overhead is Hangar 11. Hangar 11 is home to the <a href="http://www.742aircadets.ca/" target="_blank">742 National Capital Air Cadet Squadron</a>,
the largest Air Cadet Squadron in Canada. It's also where my brave alpha niece, Nora, spends her spare time and energy.<br />
<br />
The Air Cadet motto is "Our Youth,
Our Pride," and after witnessing their year-end 49th Annual Review, I
think they deserve their distinguished title!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Instead
of floating around all summer like dandelion seeds, these youngsters
from 12-19
years old learn survival skills, travel the world, participate in flight
activities and win scholarships. Some of the keeners go on to earn
pilot's licences but in the meantime, they all seem to share the unique
feeling of belonging to something bigger than themselves. What could be
a better flight path into adulthood than an attitude of humility,
discipline and purpose?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JUlVlU7z_WQ/UEzM5TlR-KI/AAAAAAAABfI/mN0up51IYU8/s1600/Youth8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JUlVlU7z_WQ/UEzM5TlR-KI/AAAAAAAABfI/mN0up51IYU8/s320/Youth8.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bake table was a sell out by night's end</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm sure we'll be seeing many of these Cadets volunteering their time to help others or at the controls of an aircraft. Be sure to wave or salute the next time you see one flying overhead.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Not long after my memorable visit to Hangar 11, Auntie attended another notable event for local youth. This time it was the <a href="http://www.glebeci.ca/" target="_blank">Glebe Collegiate's</a> annual musical extravaganza coincidentally, with a military theme, <i>Battles and Victories.</i> Lucky for Auntie it was taking place right down the street from our summer shack in Ottawa.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y3U7tUZtrLE/UEfKGacouQI/AAAAAAAABeQ/vP6qdp-rPuU/s1600/Youth7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y3U7tUZtrLE/UEfKGacouQI/AAAAAAAABeQ/vP6qdp-rPuU/s400/Youth7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A peek inside the fertile mind of the high school student</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The neighbourhood buzz was that the event was a sell out and I think the buzz was correct! The line to get into the auditorium snaked up and down the hallways for half a kilometre so Auntie had a good chance to put her snooping eye to work observing the inner workings of the school.<br />
<br />
The bulletin boards and hallways were festooned with class projects and posters promoting the Student Council elections. Many of the performers were milling around, excitedly anticipating their eminent big moment on stage.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gHZJbI0ZOAk/UEzM9lNMUiI/AAAAAAAABfQ/luZ-5pHYRNI/s1600/Youth9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gHZJbI0ZOAk/UEzM9lNMUiI/AAAAAAAABfQ/luZ-5pHYRNI/s400/Youth9.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A basketball machine. Michael Jordan, watch out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The fund raising bake table near the auditorium entrance was doing a booming business and the cupcakes with bright blue icing were quite popular judging by the people passing us with blue lips, teeth and tongues. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
At long last the line flowed towards the auditorium and once we found our seats we settled in for a memorable evening of entertainment.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
It was a bit like watching an early episode of the popular programme, <a href="http://www.globaltv.com/glee/index.html" target="_blank">Glee</a> without the students'
backstabbing politics and angst ridden, hormone driven histrionics.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fctIFzhopyQ/T-UWpyJXxWI/AAAAAAAABTc/G19_3YPzhHA/s1600/Youth6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fctIFzhopyQ/T-UWpyJXxWI/AAAAAAAABTc/G19_3YPzhHA/s640/Youth6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
One after another, quartets, choirs, and orchestras performed, each act followed by cheers, photo flashes and applause from the crowd.<br />
<br />
Everyone was playing and singing his or her heart out and then, "poof." The whole thing seemed to be over as soon as it started.<br />
<br />
We all wandered home in the warm summer night, our hearts infused with song.<br />
<br />
Even though both events couldn't have been more different, they both left me filled with renewed hope and optimism for our younger
generation. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Thank goodness for nieces and neighbours who invite Auntie to these fabulous events!<br />
<br />
I can hardly wait until next year!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V3BnFPm9IG8/T-UWoKIlYcI/AAAAAAAABTU/68uHwQnbOiE/s1600/Youth5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V3BnFPm9IG8/T-UWoKIlYcI/AAAAAAAABTU/68uHwQnbOiE/s640/Youth5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Timothy Austen, Fearless Students' Council President. See you next year Auntie!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G_c15eFCGQc/UEz4ucvROjI/AAAAAAAABgE/IQKTsXcEtCE/s1600/CoupleToasting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G_c15eFCGQc/UEz4ucvROjI/AAAAAAAABgE/IQKTsXcEtCE/s320/CoupleToasting.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-70892385133660463892012-08-29T23:26:00.001+02:002013-04-27T21:15:26.128+02:00Things are Looking Down!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3R2YspsgW4g/UDZ6K7qgALI/AAAAAAAABY4/LVi89LlooQQ/s1600/Looking+Down11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="482" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3R2YspsgW4g/UDZ6K7qgALI/AAAAAAAABY4/LVi89LlooQQ/s640/Looking+Down11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When Auntie was a very little girl, one of my favourite TV shows was <span id="goog_833282683"></span><a href="http://www.cbc.ca/75/2011/10/the-friendly-giant.html" target="_blank">The Friendly Giant.</a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Once upon a time, not long ago and not far away" the show began as the camera moved along the street of a charming little town. The Friendly Giant's soft, soothing voice would tell us about the town's comings and goings as the camera moved slowly along the street, sometimes past the train station, sometimes past a farm, the general store, or the post office, giving us a little tour until we reached a big boot. That boot was
bigger than one of the town's buildings and that big boot belonged to the
Friendly Giant!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Up and up the camera moved from the Giant's boot, up along his leg as he told us to "look up, waaaay up!" For us viewers, "way up" was past
his tummy, past his chest, finally stopping at his smiling, familiar face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But that wasn't all. We went higher still when the Friendly Giant invited us to join him for a story in a
turret high up in his castle. That's about as high up you can get when
you're 5 years old without being on a plane!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B-JL09DVlBM/UDZ7CbcNy0I/AAAAAAAABag/C3cNZX__zjE/s1600/Looking+Down22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B-JL09DVlBM/UDZ7CbcNy0I/AAAAAAAABag/C3cNZX__zjE/s640/Looking+Down22.jpg" width="489" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Dad was an "up looker" as a child</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The Friendly Giant taught us that there were always good things to see when we looked up. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Looking up runs in our family too. I think I first learned to look
up from my dad who was also a skilled "up looker" in his own right.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As a child I was content and happy to look up until my 10th birthday when all that changed. On the way to the
nearby skating rink I found a scattering of $2 bills lying on the ground in the snow. What a find! After that day I was convinced that looking down was a good thing too.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I still enjoy looking up but I must say that looking down came in handy when Auntie moved to France and looking down
meant avoiding piles of stinky dog poo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JROEbuc-fG4/UDaUqVN0hpI/AAAAAAAABcM/JNEI0lVuV1Y/s1600/JesusNew3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JROEbuc-fG4/UDaUqVN0hpI/AAAAAAAABcM/JNEI0lVuV1Y/s640/JesusNew3.jpg" width="483" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down at Jesus<br />
<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
By far the most interesting thing I've ever seen looking down is when Auntie and Uncle Jim saw an image of <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.ca/2011/03/jesus-on-16th-step.html" target="_blank">Jesus on the 16th step </a>of a staircase while we were descending towards the subway in Kowloon.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
No doubt about it, while looking up is quite popular, looking down is easier on your neck and
you just never know what you'll find.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So the next time you walk around your neighbourhood, why not "look down, waaay down" for a change?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There are some strange and wondrous things down there!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-51-l0tRvuX8/UDZ7AeIQKjI/AAAAAAAABaY/GLx2QoOqR9k/s1600/Looking+Down21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-51-l0tRvuX8/UDZ7AeIQKjI/AAAAAAAABaY/GLx2QoOqR9k/s640/Looking+Down21.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down at a Monarch butterfly</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S6I9tlmR4uI/UDZ6m5JS1QI/AAAAAAAABZs/9YEjKVGeJv0/s1600/Looking+Down17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S6I9tlmR4uI/UDZ6m5JS1QI/AAAAAAAABZs/9YEjKVGeJv0/s640/Looking+Down17.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down at a mermaid</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9PEnWoRhCW4/UDZ62z7nV1I/AAAAAAAABaI/pYVaHQHTj_Y/s1600/Looking+Down2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9PEnWoRhCW4/UDZ62z7nV1I/AAAAAAAABaI/pYVaHQHTj_Y/s640/Looking+Down2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy knows how to look down</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KzuDNKNHTGk/UDZ65o1zgYI/AAAAAAAABaQ/wz1XT4bowJc/s1600/Looking+Down20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KzuDNKNHTGk/UDZ65o1zgYI/AAAAAAAABaQ/wz1XT4bowJc/s640/Looking+Down20.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh no! Someone from New York melted!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B-4N3R9IXYw/UDaW69OCenI/AAAAAAAABcU/fNjnlvBVIrA/s1600/Looking+DownCollage.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B-4N3R9IXYw/UDaW69OCenI/AAAAAAAABcU/fNjnlvBVIrA/s640/Looking+DownCollage.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBJuVCCd-4k/UDaW_6DBzoI/AAAAAAAABcc/jW2t_XQOL1c/s1600/Looking+DownCollage2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBJuVCCd-4k/UDaW_6DBzoI/AAAAAAAABcc/jW2t_XQOL1c/s640/Looking+DownCollage2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p97bn263y-M/UDZ7aT_u8wI/AAAAAAAABbM/ZcUDt3UAZp4/s1600/Looking+Down6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p97bn263y-M/UDZ7aT_u8wI/AAAAAAAABbM/ZcUDt3UAZp4/s640/Looking+Down6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Can you please put back the Nice Matin Menton (Newspaper) to Christian, thanks"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-weCfI9e_k60/UDZ7cTyLZ4I/AAAAAAAABbU/qEZ3omNSFbU/s1600/Looking+Down7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-weCfI9e_k60/UDZ7cTyLZ4I/AAAAAAAABbU/qEZ3omNSFbU/s640/Looking+Down7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down in Tokyo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0DQi3LPT95g/UDZ7ep6LwAI/AAAAAAAABbc/GrxVvBCrHE8/s1600/Looking+Down8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0DQi3LPT95g/UDZ7ep6LwAI/AAAAAAAABbc/GrxVvBCrHE8/s640/Looking+Down8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Must buy birdseed, newspaper, new perch ....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xAiUKOxzLU4/UD55aptLmEI/AAAAAAAABdM/RBeNQLq5CQI/s1600/Looking+Down24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="272" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xAiUKOxzLU4/UD55aptLmEI/AAAAAAAABdM/RBeNQLq5CQI/s320/Looking+Down24.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-35519290313159588182012-08-08T18:53:00.002+02:002012-08-08T21:06:34.142+02:00The Future of Yesterday<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jDbZ2n-f7-A/UCHTAGnbpOI/AAAAAAAABXA/B7raDSzW_YI/s1600/Mars3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jDbZ2n-f7-A/UCHTAGnbpOI/AAAAAAAABXA/B7raDSzW_YI/s640/Mars3.jpg" width="440" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mechanix Illustrated, March 1961</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
This morning while Auntie was killing time on the <a href="http://www.nasa.gov/multimedia/videogallery/index.html" target="_blank">NASA
website</a>, as one does, looking for some footage of Monday's Mars landing,
I realized something was missing.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After watching simulations of the landing in the
riveting, <a href="http://www.nasa.gov/multimedia/videogallery/index.html?media_id=146903741" target="_blank">Seven Minutes of Terror</a> followed by a video of the
happy but tired mission control ground crew in <i><a href="http://www.nasa.gov/multimedia/videogallery/index.html?media_id=149933921" target="_blank">NASA Lands Car-sized Rover on Martian Surface</a></i>, I was
puzzled. Where was the real time video of the Rover as it was landing on
Mars?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4CuqQQWbCBw/UCHS8JnnxOI/AAAAAAAABW4/kFHrxDRh3mg/s1600/Mars2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4CuqQQWbCBw/UCHS8JnnxOI/AAAAAAAABW4/kFHrxDRh3mg/s640/Mars2.jpg" width="356" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
When I mentioned my puzzlement to Uncle Jim, he
smiled, rubbed his chin and in a patient and fatherly way, explained using
short words that Auntie could understand that there was no video of the Rover
landing because there were no cameras on Mars to transmit it. Wha?
Oh yeah! Heh, heh. How silly is Auntie? I'm always
heartened at how patient Uncle Jim is with me. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Landing on Mars seems like a complete miracle to
me yet at the same time I expected more. How did this happen? I
remember how something as simple as a game of checkers kept Auntie and her
friends amused for hours. It's ironic that something as complex and
technologically advanced as landing a Rover on Mars got me thinking about how
simple entertainment used to be.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Back in the stone age before television, video
games, iPods and flip flops,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>families
spent time in the evenings crowded around the radio listening to dramas and plays. Everyone huddled together and stayed quiet as the words created movies in one's mind. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Listening to plays, radio dramas and comedies
back then required listening skills, imagination and an attention span.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There was no way to time shift the programmes
either. If you missed a radio broadcast, the next day you had to ask your
neighbour over the back fence what finally happened to Superman in last week's cliff
hanger or how Our Miss Brooks got herself out of a pickle!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UfuIyUTEZV4/UCKWTT_R7gI/AAAAAAAABXs/ezBYwLwjcWk/s1600/Radio4SEPIA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UfuIyUTEZV4/UCKWTT_R7gI/AAAAAAAABXs/ezBYwLwjcWk/s640/Radio4SEPIA.jpg" width="246" /></a>Auntie is a big fan of radio dramas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a practical blend old new, my iPod is filled with programmes like <a href="http://www.ourmissbrooks.com/" target="_blank">Our Miss Brooks</a>, <a href="http://fatherknowsbest.com/" target="_blank">Father Knows Best</a>, <a href="http://wayback.net/rcp.htm" target="_blank">Radio City Playhouse</a> and <a href="http://archive.org/details/OTRR_Mel_Blanc_Singles/" target="_blank">The Mel Blanc Show</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But my favourite, by far, is a Science
Fiction series called, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/X_Minus_One" target="_blank">X Minus One.</a> It's outstanding dramatizations of stories from famous science fiction writers like Ray Bradbury and
Isaac Asimov will stick in your mind forever. Listening to these
broadcasts gives my imagination a good workout and keeps my brain occupied
while I bake cakes, do the laundry or dig in the garden.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
While I was watching videos of the ground crew at
NASA cheering, crying with joy and high fiveing each other as the Rover landed, I remembered an
episode of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>X Minus One, <i>Mars is
Heaven,</i> by Ray Bradbury.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the drama, astronauts land on Mars and
encounter evil, but clever, mind reading Martians and... Well, you should listen
to the broadcast yourself and learn about the dangers of travelling to new
planets and accepting dinner invitations from relatives who should really be at
home on Earth.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Here's how the narrator introduces the programme:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i>"When the first space rocket lands on
Mars, what will we find? Only the ruins of a dead and deserted planet, or
will there be life? Intelligent life in some strange form that only we can
imagine? Will we be welcomed with open arms, or will the Martians treat us as
invaders? </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><i>Only one thing is certain, some day a giant
metal ship will take off from earth to travel through the black velocities, the
silent gulfs of space, to descend at last into the darkness of the upper
Martian atmospheres and on that day, man will finally know the answers, the day
we first land on Mars!"</i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Riveting stuff!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Especially to someone who lived in 1955 and their idea of futuristic
innovations was a long-life tube for their radio.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, here we all are, as predicted, in 2012, landing on
Mars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though NASA didn't send any
humans to poke around, just the Rover, it's a technological miracle all the
same and one that writer Ray Bradbury wrote about long ago.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If you'd like to hear the rest of the
broadcast, and Auntie recommends that you do, click on the picture of the radio...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.cakes-for-a-cause.com/X_Minus_One.1955.05.08_Mars_Is_Heaven.mp3" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img src="http://www.cakes-for-a-cause.com/radio3d.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Listen to <i>Mars is Heaven</i> here</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<script src="http://mediaplayer.yahoo.com/js" type="text/javascript"></script>
If stories about space are not your cup of Tang,
<a href="http://www.oldtimeradiofans.com/" target="_blank">here's a website where you can download all kinds of old time radio shows for free</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Go ahead, put down that Nintendo, gather 'round your
iPod, and fire up your imagination.<br />
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-20767755731991342352012-07-06T04:44:00.001+02:002012-07-06T04:44:46.869+02:00Trouble on the Bubble at the Carp Drive-In Bingo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MAOmR3dmmK0/T_WILd3UJKI/AAAAAAAABVY/lu-6aSfk1k8/s1600/Bingo2012-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="482" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MAOmR3dmmK0/T_WILd3UJKI/AAAAAAAABVY/lu-6aSfk1k8/s640/Bingo2012-5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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With our car bursting with snack-filled Tupperware and an assortment of bingo daubers in all the primary colours, BFF Sean and I rocketed down the highway last night to attend the much anticipated season opener of the <a href="http://carpfair.ca/carp-drive-in-bingos/" target="_blank">Carp Drive-in Bingo.</a> </div>
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The 4th of July had been etched in my brain, and scrawled in my day-timer ever since our first visit last year and I'd been looking forward to tonight ever since. Lucky for us that Sean had the night off.</div>
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Bingo-wise, Sean and I had a lot of catching up to do. <a href="http://goo.gl/1Zv5I" target="_blank">Last year was our first time </a>at the Carp Bingo and
2012 marks its 56th year. I calculated that we had missed about 108 games since it's inception. That's a lot of fun, a lot of pie and incalculable bingo winnings down the drain. Clearly we needed to re-evaluate our priorities.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0BKdLxAMYqE/T_WIJujEhNI/AAAAAAAABVQ/n_PYF5F0N6o/s1600/Bingo2012-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0BKdLxAMYqE/T_WIJujEhNI/AAAAAAAABVQ/n_PYF5F0N6o/s320/Bingo2012-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the only cloud in the sky</td></tr>
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As luck would have it, Wednesday was a perfect evening for playing bingo and sitting out of doors, under the stars. Even at 9:00 the thermometer read a balmy 25 degrees and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Well, maybe just one. Since there was a constant, light breeze, any lurking mosquitoes blew away, leaving us free to concentrate on our daubing, snacking, and chatting with our fellow players. </div>
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For the uninitiated, here's how the Carp Drive-in Bingo works: when you arrive at the Carp fairgrounds you park wherever you want or you can park, leave your car, and play<i> </i>at the long table that's set up directly in front of the callers. This is where Sean and I sit to play and also be closer to the pie in the canteen. Last year we had arrived late and the pie had sold out. This year we knew better. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OlSQZDuwHRU/T_WIQGqApcI/AAAAAAAABVw/9DJo7MBr2hI/s1600/Bingo2012-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OlSQZDuwHRU/T_WIQGqApcI/AAAAAAAABVw/9DJo7MBr2hI/s200/Bingo2012-8.jpg" width="200" /></a>After buying our bingo cards, you can buy dinner at the BBQ that starts at 6:00 or you can lay out a blanket and enjoy your own picnic. On this beautiful evening there were many families who were doing just that.</div>
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The game starts at 8:00. If you decide to sit in your car to play
bingo, you tune your car radio to FM 91.9 and you'll hear the caller
call out numbers over the radio. You daub your card and if you're lucky
enough to have a bingo, you honk your horn, flash your headlights,
scream and yell like a lunatic and one of a team of volunteers dashes to
your car to verify your numbers and hand you a mitt full of cash. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WwWmx3UjvWs/T_WIT1C6sqI/AAAAAAAABWA/tnE_vuMPQVA/s1600/Bingo2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="481" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WwWmx3UjvWs/T_WIT1C6sqI/AAAAAAAABWA/tnE_vuMPQVA/s640/Bingo2012.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disturbing news and grammar</td></tr>
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Unfortunately, all was not tickity-boo for the Carp Drive-in Bingo this year. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y4SAXVJxpsg/T_WIG9kRKDI/AAAAAAAABVA/e32OFIfRKlk/s1600/Bingo2012-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y4SAXVJxpsg/T_WIG9kRKDI/AAAAAAAABVA/e32OFIfRKlk/s320/Bingo2012-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sean's two servings of fruit</td></tr>
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Last week,
the <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1269747043" target="_blank">AGCO</a><a href="http://www.agco.on.ca/en/home/index.aspx" target="_blank">, Ontario's Alcohol and Gaming Commission</a>, watchdog for all things gambling, let it be
known that anyone under 18 years of age would no longer be permitted to play
bingo. Seems that helping your dear old grandma or your aged Auntie to find numbers on her bingo card after the sun goes down would lead these helpful and innocent youngsters down an inescapable vortex of addiction, poverty, and shame. </div>
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Warning signs were posted here and there on the fairgrounds and watchful eyes were on the lookout for children holding daubers and having fun. </div>
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City of Ottawa elected Counsellor, <a href="http://ottawa.ca/en/city_hall/councilcommittees/mayor_council/councillors/e_elchantiry/index.html" target="_blank">Eli El Chantiry</a> made a guest appearance and called the numbers for one game. Afterwards, he clarified for the crowd that in fact, those under 18 were allowed to daub bingo cards, they just weren't allowed to buy the cards nor claim the prize money. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RZdNbQXZW1s/T_WIM5Sf3pI/AAAAAAAABVg/T-VjY-ChKpY/s1600/Bingo2012-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="403" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RZdNbQXZW1s/T_WIM5Sf3pI/AAAAAAAABVg/T-VjY-ChKpY/s640/Bingo2012-6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our congenial callers</td></tr>
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After Mr El Chantiry left, the caller calmed everyone's frayed nerves with a comforting announcement: "we apologise for having corrupted your kids for the past 56 years." Apology accepted. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PI74nJA1KQw/T_WIOp74HGI/AAAAAAAABVo/cK8srUPeTPQ/s1600/Bingo2012-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PI74nJA1KQw/T_WIOp74HGI/AAAAAAAABVo/cK8srUPeTPQ/s400/Bingo2012-7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The VNP table (Very Near the Pie)</td></tr>
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Near the end of the evening, in between games, there was an announcement: "we're giving away a free piece of pie at the canteen for the person who travelled the farthest to come to tonight's bingo!" Auntie jumped from her seat. No one would have come as far as Auntie came. That piece of pie was mine! </div>
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I walked quickly to the front with my Monaco <i>Carte de Sejour</i> or Resident's Permit, gripped in my paw. I lifted it up, smiled, and showed it to the pie lady at the canteen. Sure enough, I had travelled the farthest and I won a piece of Lemon Meringue pie for Sean. Lemon meringue pie was his favourite after pumpkin pie. </div>
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The runner up was a nice young man who had travelled from <a href="http://www.ville.rimouski.qc.ca/en" target="_blank">Rimouski</a>, Quebec. Wait a minute, he looked under 18. Is he allowed to win pie? I guess he was. The corruptible young man from Rimouski walked off with a big slice of butterscotch pie.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8x0MGdKOmgo/T_WISENLhBI/AAAAAAAABV4/-3e0TCGLMjk/s1600/Bingo2012-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8x0MGdKOmgo/T_WISENLhBI/AAAAAAAABV4/-3e0TCGLMjk/s400/Bingo2012-9.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Come with me human. I want some pie!</td></tr>
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Aside from the thrill of a possible bingo win and being surrounded by corruptible youth, it's a lovely way to
spend a summer evening and we can hardly wait until next time!</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BaYzDvIxAVc/T_ZMPYVJPRI/AAAAAAAABWY/qQGBPV-tRxE/s1600/Car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BaYzDvIxAVc/T_ZMPYVJPRI/AAAAAAAABWY/qQGBPV-tRxE/s1600/Car.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-86341447085748705752012-06-28T00:08:00.000+02:002013-03-02T21:25:45.575+01:00How May we Help You?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qt7oIeWVQNQ/T-sKQq12DpI/AAAAAAAABTo/ZMzSR_ecXU0/s1600/Service.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="482" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qt7oIeWVQNQ/T-sKQq12DpI/AAAAAAAABTo/ZMzSR_ecXU0/s640/Service.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas, Cameron and Terrance.</td></tr>
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A funny thing happened to Auntie the other day and I hope it happens to you too and often! </div>
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Picture this: the red gas tank warning light comes on in your car. Oops, you're almost out of gas. You drive your car into the nearest gas station, ready to fiddle with the nozzle, pump gas in your tank, get your hands dirty, curse a bit when you're almost overcome by gasoline fumes and then need to pay for all that fun. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kc-WVgdwKWg/T-sKSnEEMOI/AAAAAAAABTw/Shu2e9rP57A/s1600/Service2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kc-WVgdwKWg/T-sKSnEEMOI/AAAAAAAABTw/Shu2e9rP57A/s400/Service2.jpg" width="301" /></a> </div>
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But this time was different. When I pulled my car up to the pump, three young men
ran over to my car. I locked my doors and grabbed my shoe phone, fingers poised over the "9-1-1" key, ready to squeal the heck out of there. I thought I was just about to get
robbed!<br />
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But then I noticed that those three young men were all wearing the same shirt with the same logo. Then as they came closer I realized that they were all quite handsome. And wait! They all had name badges
pinned to those well pressed shirts. And wait, they were all smiling!<br />
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Hmm. Thugs
with crime on their minds don't usually smile.<br />
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Auntie cautiously rolled down the window a crack and no more, just in case it was a clever ruse. One of the young men put his face next to the window, smiled, and asked, "fill it up ma'am?" Auntie unlocked her car doors and smiled a smile of relief at Uncle Jim. This looked familiar somehow... It's a bird, it's a plane, no, it's... service! </div>
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For any of you reading this who were born say, after 1980 or who have never visited Hong Kong or Japan, the subject of this post may be a little foreign for you. It's all about service. Good service.</div>
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What is this strange thing called, "service" you ask? Gather round boys and girls and Auntie will explain. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6SoI0SVQIds/T-sL-UrONsI/AAAAAAAABUQ/pKZtEBTkqpQ/s1600/Service9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="481" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6SoI0SVQIds/T-sL-UrONsI/AAAAAAAABUQ/pKZtEBTkqpQ/s640/Service9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look closely. This is squeegeeing. It's included with your gas.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Service is something you are offered generously and thoughtfully by others to help you. It's something we all notice and remember. <br />
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Good service is meant to make your life easier and your day more pleasant. It's the opposite of bad service from lazy and selfish people who yak on the phone to their friends while you're trying to get information or pay for something. Sadly, we all know what bad service looks like these days.</div>
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Here's another example from bygone days of what service looks like: you
buy lots of things at a grocery store and while you pay for them,
someone puts your purchases in a bag and offers to carry it all to your
car. I can see you scratching your heads and wondering what that would feel
like. Take Auntie's word for it, it's quite nice!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SgFhSyQjnMA/T-t9z5-CqnI/AAAAAAAABUo/GLqL3VpdtKI/s1600/Service11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SgFhSyQjnMA/T-t9z5-CqnI/AAAAAAAABUo/GLqL3VpdtKI/s400/Service11.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check your tire pressure Ma'am?</td></tr>
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Terry O'Reilly on his excellent <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/" target="_blank">CBC</a> radio programme called, Under the
Influence, has a recent episode called, "<a href="http://www.cbc.ca/undertheinfluence/season-1/2012/06/09/its-the-little-things-2/" target="_blank">It's the Little Things</a>" describing his experience with companies who excel at customer
service and how they do it. Some of the stories are heart warming, some are clever and some are just common business sense.<br />
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At our local <a href="http://www.homehardware.ca/en/dealer-microsites/1667-9/contact-information.htm" target="_blank">Home Hardware</a> shop, the customer service is always attentive and welcomed. They have lots of staff walking around so within minutes after you arrive, someone will ask you if you need help. Auntie is always glad for help in finding that strange plumbing whatchamacallit or to get some helpful advice on which sprinkler to buy or what toxic liquid you need to remove stubborn paint stains.<br />
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By the way, while Terrance was filling the gas tank, ding, ding, ding, and Cameron was squeegeeing my windows, swish, swish, swish, and Thomas was checking the oil, dip, dip, dip, Uncle Jim and I were sitting comfortably in the car, kiss, kiss, kiss. <br />
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After they verified that the tank was full and things were under control with Auntie's car, Thomas tended to another customer who had arrived at the next pump.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-quQYuR1HoUY/T-t-LIldoZI/AAAAAAAABUw/0kLmwYJGotU/s1600/Service8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-quQYuR1HoUY/T-t-LIldoZI/AAAAAAAABUw/0kLmwYJGotU/s640/Service8.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty pastel car wash goo</td></tr>
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After Auntie paid, she and Uncle Jim drove through the car wash. After all, we wanted the car to look spiffy for our trip to The Dairy Queen for ice cream. </div>
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Auntie's hoping that whenever her red gas warning light comes on, she's near the <a href="http://www.essostations.com/home.php?c=20120627111514&lang=en-ca&storenum=f116e226a0592ebe871623462a448035" target="_blank">Island Park Esso Service Station</a>. Or when she needs some hardware do-dad she's near her local Home Hardware store.</div>
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Let's hope good service catches on. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hRvS5L1PQbg/T-tWoyujV3I/AAAAAAAABUc/TOQLXXbVCOA/s1600/Service10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hRvS5L1PQbg/T-tWoyujV3I/AAAAAAAABUc/TOQLXXbVCOA/s200/Service10.jpg" width="127" /></a></div>
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The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-59731783702791138182012-06-04T15:11:00.002+02:002012-06-14T12:12:41.030+02:00Doorknobs, Carrot Poodles and Rainy Day Fun<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PgGUP-iPPKE/T8q13VDknbI/AAAAAAAAB10/DSrRVLjvYcA/s1600/RummageSales9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="580" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PgGUP-iPPKE/T8q13VDknbI/AAAAAAAAB10/DSrRVLjvYcA/s640/RummageSales9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9sVBlM19xl0/T8wNujjUgHI/AAAAAAAAB4c/FdQSlgDppVw/s1600/RummageSales11.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9sVBlM19xl0/T8wNujjUgHI/AAAAAAAAB4c/FdQSlgDppVw/s400/RummageSales11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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On the front door of our old house in Canada is a pretty brass door knob that Auntie bought at
a rummage sale when she was 17 years old.<br />
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I kept it in my hope chest for 13 years, all the while dreaming about the pretty house and handsome husband I'd have some day.<br />
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When I turned 30 and married that handsome husband, aka, Uncle Jim, we bought a pretty house and together we installed that very same door knob on our front door. It's still there, decades later.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x58mDKDhcIk/T8yk9DE8fdI/AAAAAAAABSk/shzFs3Q9i9M/s1600/FestiveFood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x58mDKDhcIk/T8yk9DE8fdI/AAAAAAAABSk/shzFs3Q9i9M/s640/FestiveFood.jpg" width="482" /></a></div>
Since you read The Auntie Times, smart, fabulous you, you may have gathered that Auntie is a tireless devotee of flea markets,
garage sales and rummage sales. Wherever I travel in the world I can sniff
them out like a truffle dog under an Italian oak tree! <br />
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As a useful life skill, Auntie knows how to say, "what's your best price?"
in 6 different languages. If that doesn't work, I clutch my chest and caterwaul about how expensive that little figurine or do-dad is. That, I'm proud to say, I can do in 4 languages.</div>
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<br />
Saturday
morning when it was pelting rain, I was looking for some
second hand amusement and learned about a rummage sale just down the street. There's nothing like a bargain to brighten up an otherwise damp day. I
dug out an umbrella and off I went. Curiously, it was being held in the
very same church basement where I bought my pretty door knob decades ago.</div>
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Once
I arrived at the church and after I shook off my umbrella and wiped my wet paws, I bolted straight to the
book stand where I saw something that looked like goofy rainy
day fun. "Festive Food Decoration for all Occasions" was the find of the day. It cost Auntie $2 and $2 was their best price!</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8SPbsbSD5qM/T8q1ye0gSRI/AAAAAAAAB1M/E-DqfRbbT-A/s1600/RummageSales4.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8SPbsbSD5qM/T8q1ye0gSRI/AAAAAAAAB1M/E-DqfRbbT-A/s200/RummageSales4.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gbSXajFASxc/T8q1zphSneI/AAAAAAAAB1U/IomAX8S4qSg/s1600/RummageSales5.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gbSXajFASxc/T8q1zphSneI/AAAAAAAAB1U/IomAX8S4qSg/s200/RummageSales5.jpg" width="200" /></a>It
seems that the book's author, Ms Ostrander, was quite a prolific writer. She penned her
book, Festive Food Decoration, in 1969 and she then went on to write a
potpourri of other books: Gadgets and Gifts for
Girls to Make, Astrological Birth Control, and Performance Learning.
I'll need to keep my eyes open for them the next time I visit the flea
markets.</div>
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I
thought I'd give some of the festive food sculptures in Ms Ostrander's
book a go. After all, the rain showed no sign of stopping and I wanted
to get my $2 worth.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ngqQC5kcrCk/T8q1uSg15_I/AAAAAAAAB00/vbP6NyPS_BY/s1600/RummageSales10.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ngqQC5kcrCk/T8q1uSg15_I/AAAAAAAAB00/vbP6NyPS_BY/s400/RummageSales10.jpg" width="400" /></a>I dug around in the vegetable crisper to check what I had on hand and
decided to start with the carrot poodle. I seemed to have a lot of carrots.<br />
<br />
I used my kom kom knife from Thailand to make the fluffy tufts on the poodle's legs, tail and
ears and stuck it all together with toothpicks just like in the book. I felt like a mad scientist making a Frankenpoodle! Once I finished the poodle, I made the potato car, an homage to Uncle Jim and his love of sports cars. I think it brought a manly touch to the whole silly fun.<br />
<br />
The rainy day zoomed by.</div>
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My
dinner that night included poodle <i>Carrots Vichy</i> and boiled potato car
with basil pesto. The poodle's head was particularly tasty
mainly because of the pepper corn eyes and nose.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SaZn-OkgGzA/T8q1vlokhJI/AAAAAAAAB08/ja418w-OBCk/s1600/RummageSales2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SaZn-OkgGzA/T8q1vlokhJI/AAAAAAAAB08/ja418w-OBCk/s400/RummageSales2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'm looking forward to making Ms Ostrander's potato chip sculpture, "Crunchy Coiffure" for my next party. You should try it too!<br />
<br />
I'm not sure if that little book will last as long as Auntie's brass doorknob but it sure brightened up a rainy day! </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3i28aMW0Lws/T8q120Tg91I/AAAAAAAAB1s/w8WITphX_1g/s1600/RummageSales8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3i28aMW0Lws/T8q120Tg91I/AAAAAAAAB1s/w8WITphX_1g/s400/RummageSales8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L1PDA-j76iA/T8q106XZgvI/AAAAAAAAB1c/4-m3KPJfgzI/s1600/RummageSales6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L1PDA-j76iA/T8q106XZgvI/AAAAAAAAB1c/4-m3KPJfgzI/s640/RummageSales6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D7qj9_WjkXo/T8yjpFhPafI/AAAAAAAABSc/ZoUewiEQhk0/s1600/husband+and+Wife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D7qj9_WjkXo/T8yjpFhPafI/AAAAAAAABSc/ZoUewiEQhk0/s1600/husband+and+Wife.jpg" /></a></div>
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</div>The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-2918991579084432552012-06-01T16:46:00.000+02:002012-06-01T16:46:02.786+02:00Introducing Chairman Meow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm so proud of my adopted niece Regina, who rescued a kitten and brought him into her home to love and care for. It's also a real treat for Auntie who is always pleased to have a new niece or nephew on board even if the new niece or nephew is a cat. </div>
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I've offered to become the Chairman's legal guardian should anything happen to his human mom such as alien abduction or disappearance under mysterious circumstances. I'm also always available for the occasional cat sitting gig.</div>
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At just ten weeks old, Chairman Meow is adorable, clever, engaging, and by all accounts on the path to becoming an excellent and cherished pet.</div>
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Long live Chairman Meow!</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i9LpQF_tsLc/T8jFjai9xGI/AAAAAAAABR4/l9GRpaBX8v8/s1600/ChairmanMeow3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i9LpQF_tsLc/T8jFjai9xGI/AAAAAAAABR4/l9GRpaBX8v8/s640/ChairmanMeow3.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-88078863706249747462012-05-25T03:32:00.000+02:002012-05-25T03:32:00.118+02:00When the Cat's Away....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XLpLnvB8iSw/T7z94FuGzkI/AAAAAAAABRk/zuVsacd2MJk/s1600/Cat%27s+Away6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" height="482" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XLpLnvB8iSw/T7z94FuGzkI/AAAAAAAABRk/zuVsacd2MJk/s640/Cat%27s+Away6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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As we all know, when the cat's away, the mouse will play, and for a change, Auntie is the mouse!</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-foI2zYPc4VQ/T7z95BOWV3I/AAAAAAAABRs/oM7QCrp3GJ8/s1600/Cat%27s+Away7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-foI2zYPc4VQ/T7z95BOWV3I/AAAAAAAABRs/oM7QCrp3GJ8/s400/Cat%27s+Away7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This New Edinburgh cat sure liked Auntie's purse</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
With Uncle Jim safely snuggled into Monaco, thousands of miles away indulging in all the <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.ca/2011/04/things-are-getting-ugly.html" target="_blank">Grand Prix hoopla</a>, Auntie happily high tailed it back to Canada for her annual visit with friends and family. And not a moment too soon!</div>
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After a long flight, I jumped in a taxi at the airport and as we pulled
up to the old homestead, there was the wee cat, Nellie, with a natty new
collar, sitting smack dab in the middle of our
front doorstep like a one cat welcoming committee. With my suitcases
resting on the sidewalk and the taxi driver tapping his foot waiting
to be paid, I
immediately stopped for a scratch. Natch!<br />
<br />
One thing Auntie likes about her old neighborhood in the old country is that whenever she needs a break from baking, writing, housekeeping or whatever tasks consume my day, I can stick my head out the front door, look this way and that,
and as sure as I'm standing there, along comes a cat to play with. A friendly, fun-filled cat never seems to be too far away. This isn't the case in France where the cats are either aloof, indifferent or feral. Sometimes all three.<br />
<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mIYsBtboWWk/T7z91Az0o3I/AAAAAAAABRM/6i7Pknll5ns/s1600/Cat%27s+Away3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mIYsBtboWWk/T7z91Az0o3I/AAAAAAAABRM/6i7Pknll5ns/s640/Cat%27s+Away3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now, how did that get in the back seat of the car, I wonder?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We all know that Uncle Jim is not a fan
of the divine creatures know as cats. I'm sure you remember that fateful day when <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.ca/2012/03/lucky-cats-unlucky-cats-too-many-cats.html" target="_blank">Uncle Jim took Auntie aside and told her that I was spending too much time talking about cats.</a> I must admit, this unfortunate incident still perplexes Auntie.<br />
<br />
But
since Uncle Jim is in a land far, far away, trapped in Monaco with race cars zooming
around him, Auntie is on the
loose in Canada, letting out her inner cat, away from Uncle Jim's
watchful eye. </div>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0qiB0L7Pssg/T7z90UFvyrI/AAAAAAAABRE/ZrIjPR9Lzkc/s1600/Cat%27s+Away2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0qiB0L7Pssg/T7z90UFvyrI/AAAAAAAABRE/ZrIjPR9Lzkc/s320/Cat%27s+Away2.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Cat sculpture on Dundas Street in Toronto</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Auntie is joyfully soaking up the catness of it all and I
thought I'd share some of these cat encounters with you.<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Along with these little episodes of catness, there is some big, happy news - there's a new cat on the scene! On
Wednesday, I'll be visiting my niece who just got a brand new cat,
Chairman Meow. I'll be bringing cat gifts.<br />
<br />
There has been a lot of catness to the summer so far so who knows what's to come.</div>
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Shhh! Just don't tell Uncle Jim!</div>
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<br /></div>The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-25277971636565386882012-04-30T09:48:00.000+02:002012-05-26T21:55:59.421+02:00You're Such a Big Baby<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rnBIZSa9ppw/T51ozKg0q4I/AAAAAAAABPg/oQZnwExbVfk/s1600/BIG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rnBIZSa9ppw/T51ozKg0q4I/AAAAAAAABPg/oQZnwExbVfk/s640/BIG.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Today started as a disappointing day for Auntie.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For weeks now, I'd been planning to take in the giant <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.com/2011/02/used-stuff-in-france-three-ways.html" target="_blank"><i>Vide Grenier</i></a> or community garage sale in the pretty town of Beaulieu sur Mer. Their <i>Vide Grenier</i> is one of the largest and best in the region and I'd been looking forward to it ever since it was cancelled back in late April due to bad weather. Last time I went, Auntie Meghan bought a lovely shelf for her kitchen and I bought a little ceramic cat. </div>
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This morning I threw open the curtains with a big smile on my face only to be greeted by a dead grey sky and rain pelting down. I shut the curtains and started to sulk. Wah! With the rain getting heavier the <i>Vide</i> would be cancelled for sure. Double Wah!</div>
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Well, as it turns out there were bigger babies than me in Monaco this morning!</div>
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With my plans to venture down the coast suddenly cancelled and visions of good, cheap junk swirling down the sewer along with them, I did as any Auntie with some unexpected time on her hands would do - bake something!</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3jg5e6fMCC0/T52SZdIe1SI/AAAAAAAABPs/WlBn0NKYaTM/s1600/BIG2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3jg5e6fMCC0/T52SZdIe1SI/AAAAAAAABPs/WlBn0NKYaTM/s640/BIG2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
As I was mixing the batter for some cornmeal and lemon <i>madeleines</i> for Uncle Jim to dip in his morning cappuccino, the clouds thinned so I thought I'd venture outside. I love Sundays in Monaco because it's so quiet and calm. The <i>madeline</i> batter needed time to rest in the fridge anyhow, so I stuck on my running shoes, popped my head out the front door, sniffed the air and off I went. </div>
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Little did I know that a quiet walk was the last thing Auntie had in store...<br />
<br />
Just down the street at the Oceanographic Museum there was a big hub bub. Someone had left a baby on their doorstep. But this baby was no cute little foundling, this was a gigantic baby boy, seemingly floating in the air! </div>
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The baby's name is "Planet" and its father is British artist, <a href="http://www.marcquinn.com/work/view/subject/selected/#/3541" target="_blank">Marc Quinn.</a> His bouncing baby boy is made of bronze and steel, 3 metres tall by 9 metres long. Things could get messy. I don't think they make nappies big enough for that baby.</div>
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Last year for the 100th Anniversary Celebration of <a href="http://www.oceano.mc/" target="_blank">Monaco's Oceanographic Museum, </a>big works of art were sprinkled throughout the museum and on the roof. It's a spectacular setting for artwork, especially large pieces that have lots of room in the enormous spaces inside the museum. I imagine they'll find a good place inside to put Planet down for his nap.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nu9iuo55lb8/T52Sa-wus7I/AAAAAAAABP0/eAEIv0rebMU/s1600/BIG3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="484" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nu9iuo55lb8/T52Sa-wus7I/AAAAAAAABP0/eAEIv0rebMU/s640/BIG3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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After a short detour to photograph and coochie coo the baby, Planet, I continued my walk and minutes later I came face to stern with another big baby in the exact same place where the <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.com/2012/04/out-of-rut-and-on-to-frigate.html" target="_blank">Chinese Frigate</a> was moored last week. This time it was the immense and impressive ocean liner, <a href="http://www.cunard.co.uk/Ships/Queen-Victoria/About-Queen-Victoria1/" target="_blank">Cunard's Queen Victoria</a>. This big baby was born in 2007, weighs 90,000 gross tons and can carry almost 2,000 passengers. It's bigger sister, the Queen Mary 2 floated into Monaco last April and <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.com/2011/04/rule-brittania-old-friend-sails-into.html" target="_blank">brought back some fond memories for Auntie </a>because eight years ago, Auntie and Uncle Jim were on board the QM2 for its maiden voyage.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PZN6AoBrW-8/T52ScDyzHFI/AAAAAAAABP8/iJPbQJB_SXU/s1600/BIG4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="302" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PZN6AoBrW-8/T52ScDyzHFI/AAAAAAAABP8/iJPbQJB_SXU/s400/BIG4.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
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Two other ships were docked in Monaco, both of them cruise ships that looked like fragile preemies compared to the robust Queen Victoria ocean liner. All three ships were filled with passengers, all of whom were roaming around Monaco-Ville transforming it from a sleepy Sunday into a noisy street festival. </div>
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Everywhere I went I'd hear the "toot toot" of the police blowing on their whistles trying to tame the crowds and keep the everyone from walking where he shouldn't. </div>
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With so many visitors it was becoming impossible to get around. I cut my walk short and climbed the long staircase home. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UFH1utaFp4I/T52nHTbJRiI/AAAAAAAABQI/4XyMw4qNPNk/s1600/Madelines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UFH1utaFp4I/T52nHTbJRiI/AAAAAAAABQI/4XyMw4qNPNk/s320/Madelines.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Once inside our little nest, surrounded by peace and quiet, I baked Uncle Jim's <i>Madeleines</i>. I had a choice of two pans, one to make big ones and one to make little ones. Auntie had had enough of big babies, big ships and big crowds for one day so I made little ones.</div>
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Tuesday there's going to be a big <i>Vide Grenier</i> in Menton. Let's hope Auntie makes it to that one!</div>
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<br /></div>The Auntie Timeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03687898945009560987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8366545421675745353.post-60664151771129881612012-04-26T16:50:00.000+02:002012-04-28T09:55:36.311+02:00Out of the Rut and onto a Frigate<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WsT1tTt5kfc/T5khU3rIi8I/AAAAAAAABN4/PdM4nR3qjjQ/s1600/Chinese+Navy5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WsT1tTt5kfc/T5khU3rIi8I/AAAAAAAABN4/PdM4nR3qjjQ/s640/Chinese+Navy5.jpg" width="484" /></a></div>
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Well, I must admit that even I was getting tired of hearing myself complain about how the set up of Monaco's Annual <a href="http://theauntietimes.blogspot.com/2012/04/there-goes-pretty-again.html" target="_blank">Grand Prix is messing with my morning fitness walk</a> amongst other things.
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gyL3SStssO8/T5khNEnRVzI/AAAAAAAABNI/R8N50Di9QJA/s1600/Chinese+Navy+Flag6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gyL3SStssO8/T5khNEnRVzI/AAAAAAAABNI/R8N50Di9QJA/s200/Chinese+Navy+Flag6.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VbDJhMuD1h8/T5khJEHovCI/AAAAAAAABMw/AZHhsvBoi3E/s1600/Chinese+Navy+Flag3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VbDJhMuD1h8/T5khJEHovCI/AAAAAAAABMw/AZHhsvBoi3E/s200/Chinese+Navy+Flag3.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-byRyukmAiQM/T5khL6oocaI/AAAAAAAABNA/taFIneZcoEA/s1600/Chinese+Navy+Flag5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-byRyukmAiQM/T5khL6oocaI/AAAAAAAABNA/taFIneZcoEA/s200/Chinese+Navy+Flag5.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hAB2yxqv8A4/T5khHpPj8mI/AAAAAAAABMo/q7QB7kbel44/s1600/Chinese+Navy+Flag2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hAB2yxqv8A4/T5khHpPj8mI/AAAAAAAABMo/q7QB7kbel44/s200/Chinese+Navy+Flag2.jpg" width="200" /></a>So
this morning, I decided to put my feet where my mouth is and figure out
a new walking route, one that would avoid the chain link fencing,
barricades, noisy trucks and cranes. Oops, there I go again!<br />
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Well, I can truly say that I was<br />
rewarded for
the detour... </div>
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Instead of my usual route that starts with me charging down the ramp from
Monaco-Ville and
then eastward, I took the steps that wound through the picturesque Fort Antoine and
down towards the Digue or mooring point where huge cruise ships dock
when they sail into Monaco.</div>
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There was Auntie, zipping merrily along,
thinking that I may have discovered a great new walking route but when I
got to the bottom of the staircase, there was an enormous, grey ship
blocking my view of the port. Auntie went in for a closer look.</div>
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The ship was a Frigate from People's Republic of China aka, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ships_of_the_People%27s_Liberation_Army_Navy" target="_blank">PLA Navy</a>.
There were handsome Chinese sailors everywhere, some guarding the gangway and some
standing on board. They all looked quite natty in crisp white uniforms
with shiny buttons, medals, nifty white caps and polished white shoes. Some of them were toting guns! This deserved a closer look.</div>
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Naturally,
I pulled out my camera and while I was snapping away, I noticed a
smiling sailor just to the left of the gangway. He was standing behind a little
table
with neatly piled brochures. I walked over to say hello and get a brochure. Unfortunately, he didn't speak English and I don't speak Chinese so after a minute or so of hand
motions,
pointing, smiling by the both of us and some nodding gestures, I
finally figured it out. They were offering tours of their ship. Of
course Auntie wanted in on that fun so up the gangway I went!<br />
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On board the ship, the
first thing I noticed was how clean it was. There wasn't a speck of
dust nor dirt, smudges, grit nor grime anywhere. Then I noticed that I was the only civilian.<br />
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During the tour, I was
escorted up stairs, down stairs, aft, midship, stem, stern and bow, with
a few stops here and there for photos of course. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lidzgN1YBJ0/T5lTvlWVGhI/AAAAAAAABOc/JEKyaQm1roo/s1600/Chinese+Navy10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lidzgN1YBJ0/T5lTvlWVGhI/AAAAAAAABOc/JEKyaQm1roo/s320/Chinese+Navy10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nifty Brochures</td></tr>
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The officers were very polite and handsome in spotless white uniforms. I kept wishing that I spoke Chinese so I
could have asked to see the galley. I thought I smelt something
cooking and I was dying to see what was on the stove.</div>
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After the tour was over, I was escorted down the gangway and after saying thank you to all, off I went to continue my morning power walk. After a few phone calls and Google searches, I'm still not sure why they were in Monaco but l'll keep looking.</div>
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It
just goes to show you that you just never know what you'll find when you leave the beaten path and
take a look around.
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