Trouble on the Bubble at the Carp Drive-In Bingo

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 Carp Drive-in Bingo.  

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.

Bingo-wise, Sean and I had a lot of catching up to do.  Last year was our first time 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.

This was the only cloud in the sky

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. 

 

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 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.

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.

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. 

Disturbing news and grammar

Unfortunately, all was not tickity-boo for the Carp Drive-in Bingo this year.  

 

Sean's two servings of fruit

Last week, the AGCO, Ontario's Alcohol and Gaming Commission, 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. 

 

Warning signs were posted here and there on the fairgrounds and watchful eyes were on the lookout for children holding daubers and having fun. 

 

City of Ottawa elected Counsellor, Eli El Chantiry 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. 

Our congenial callers

 

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.

The VNP table (Very Near the Pie)

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!  

I walked quickly to the front with my Monaco Carte de Sejour 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. 

The runner up was a nice young man who had travelled from Rimouski, 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.

Come with me human.  I want some pie!

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!

 
 

How May we Help You?

Thomas, Cameron and Terrance.

A funny thing happened to Auntie the other day and I hope it happens to you too and often!

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.  

 

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!

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!

Hmm.  Thugs with crime on their minds don't usually smile.

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!  

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.

What is this strange thing called, "service" you ask?  Gather round boys and girls and Auntie will explain.  

Look closely.  This is squeegeeing.  It's included with your gas.

Service is something you are offered generously and thoughtfully by others to help you.  It's something we all notice and remember.

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.

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!

Check your tire pressure Ma'am?

Terry O'Reilly on his excellent CBC radio programme called, Under the Influence, has a recent episode called, "It's the Little Things" 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.

At our local Home Hardware 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.

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.

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.

Pretty pastel car wash goo

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.

Auntie's hoping that whenever her red gas warning light comes on, she's near the Island Park Esso Service Station.  Or when she needs some hardware do-dad she's near her local Home Hardware store.

Let's hope good service catches on.

Doorknobs, Carrot Poodles and Rainy Day Fun

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.

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.

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.

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! 

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

The rainy day zoomed by.

My dinner that night included poodle Carrots Vichy and boiled potato car with basil pesto. The poodle's head was particularly tasty mainly because of the pepper corn eyes and nose.

I'm looking forward to making Ms Ostrander's potato chip sculpture, "Crunchy Coiffure" for my next party.  You should try it too!

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!

 

Introducing Chairman Meow

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.  

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.

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.

Long live Chairman Meow!

When the Cat's Away....

As we all know, when the cat's away, the mouse will play, and  for a change, Auntie is the mouse!

This New Edinburgh cat sure liked Auntie's purse

With Uncle Jim safely snuggled into Monaco, thousands of miles away indulging in all the Grand Prix hoopla, Auntie happily high tailed  it back to Canada for her annual visit with friends and family.  And not a moment too soon!

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!

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.

Now, how did that get in the back seat of the car, I wonder?

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 Uncle Jim took Auntie aside and told her that I was spending too much time talking about cats.  I must admit, this unfortunate incident still perplexes Auntie.

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.

A Cat sculpture on Dundas Street in Toronto

Auntie is joyfully soaking up the catness of it all and I thought I'd share some of these cat encounters with you.
 

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.

There has been a lot of catness to the summer so far so who knows what's to come.

Shhh!  Just don't tell Uncle Jim!