My brother-in-law, Patrick O'Kelly, claims to have created the world's perfect gin and tonic. Having tasted his concoction, I am in no position to argue with him, as it is truly an inspired libation. He has taught my son-in-law, Rob Bailey, the recipe. That's Rob, above, showing his citrus fruit rinds marinating. Patrick has officially approved of Rob's wonderful version of T.W.P.G.&T. (The World's Perfect Gin & Tonic). I'm from the school of thought that says there is no such a thing as a bad gin and tonic. What's more, while Patrick's T.W.P.G.&T. has to be started the day before it is to be drunk, I feel you can't make a gin and tonic too quickly, especially on a hot day. For me, it's a toss-up as to which tastes better on a hot, sunny day: the first few icy, bitter, astringent sips of a gin and tonic, or the first couple of cold, biting, tugs of a frosty beer. Cheers, BtheB May 25, 2007
The World's Perfect Gin & Tonic
My brother-in-law, Patrick O'Kelly, claims to have created the world's perfect gin and tonic. Having tasted his concoction, I am in no position to argue with him, as it is truly an inspired libation. He has taught my son-in-law, Rob Bailey, the recipe. That's Rob, above, showing his citrus fruit rinds marinating. Patrick has officially approved of Rob's wonderful version of T.W.P.G.&T. (The World's Perfect Gin & Tonic). I'm from the school of thought that says there is no such a thing as a bad gin and tonic. What's more, while Patrick's T.W.P.G.&T. has to be started the day before it is to be drunk, I feel you can't make a gin and tonic too quickly, especially on a hot day. For me, it's a toss-up as to which tastes better on a hot, sunny day: the first few icy, bitter, astringent sips of a gin and tonic, or the first couple of cold, biting, tugs of a frosty beer. Cheers, BtheB 
May 13, 2007
All the devils of hell
My wife announced this weekend that we were being visited by the all the devils of hell. I can always tell when she has been talking to her Irish Catholic girlfriends. The gravity of any situation is greatly enhanced when described properly. Before seriously considering what might be behind her pronouncement, three scenarios popped into my mind.
(1.) a number of people from the Prime Minister's Office were at the door to inform me I had been qualified as a Stephan Harper resembler! Not literally, of course, but more figuratively. In the PM's ongoing attempt to make a break-through with the Canadian voter, his acolytes at my door had been told that: (a.) I stood up to pee; (b.) I knew that Canadian Forces had introduced hockey to Afghanastan; (c.) I had declined to be a franchisee for a new chain of coffee shops in Kandahar, called Afghan Stan's, which was to complete directly with Tim Horton's. I knew I would feign interest as long as there was a possibility of them giving me one of those cool Stephan Harper safari vests, for free, before telling them to take a hike.
(2). the annual spring-time team of teenage door-to-door marketers had arrived to save me, for another five years, from paying outrageously high gas prices to heat my home. They always have a huge clipboard with important records about me, none of which point out that I am not connected to the gas main. When this fails to dissuade them, I immediately point out that my home is one the lucky few, situated on the Oak Ridges Moraine, that is heated geo-thermally with hot water and steam from beneath the earth. I say it is free, requires no maintenance and has no odour. Some start to laugh, but I stay perfectly calm and in control. Others...their eyes glaze over. Some are speechless. I always thank them profusely while shutting the door.
(3.) Lastly, 'all the devils of hell' could mean that my grandchildren have arrived for a visit.
I only have two grandchildren and they're both barely a year old, but I don't think you can start too early to impress them with how important they are to you. I therefore resolve, from this day forward, to greet their arrival, each and every time, with a wicked, but loving, "Tis all the devils of hell come for a visit".
What Linda was referring to, when she made her pronouncement about the devils of hell visiting, was our collective health. She's just getting over some surgery and I've had a brush with pneumonia. Hacking, coughing and sneezing has kept me from the grandkids for a week now and I desperately, desperately, miss them.
BtheB
(1.) a number of people from the Prime Minister's Office were at the door to inform me I had been qualified as a Stephan Harper resembler! Not literally, of course, but more figuratively. In the PM's ongoing attempt to make a break-through with the Canadian voter, his acolytes at my door had been told that: (a.) I stood up to pee; (b.) I knew that Canadian Forces had introduced hockey to Afghanastan; (c.) I had declined to be a franchisee for a new chain of coffee shops in Kandahar, called Afghan Stan's, which was to complete directly with Tim Horton's. I knew I would feign interest as long as there was a possibility of them giving me one of those cool Stephan Harper safari vests, for free, before telling them to take a hike.
(2). the annual spring-time team of teenage door-to-door marketers had arrived to save me, for another five years, from paying outrageously high gas prices to heat my home. They always have a huge clipboard with important records about me, none of which point out that I am not connected to the gas main. When this fails to dissuade them, I immediately point out that my home is one the lucky few, situated on the Oak Ridges Moraine, that is heated geo-thermally with hot water and steam from beneath the earth. I say it is free, requires no maintenance and has no odour. Some start to laugh, but I stay perfectly calm and in control. Others...their eyes glaze over. Some are speechless. I always thank them profusely while shutting the door.
(3.) Lastly, 'all the devils of hell' could mean that my grandchildren have arrived for a visit.
I only have two grandchildren and they're both barely a year old, but I don't think you can start too early to impress them with how important they are to you. I therefore resolve, from this day forward, to greet their arrival, each and every time, with a wicked, but loving, "Tis all the devils of hell come for a visit".
What Linda was referring to, when she made her pronouncement about the devils of hell visiting, was our collective health. She's just getting over some surgery and I've had a brush with pneumonia. Hacking, coughing and sneezing has kept me from the grandkids for a week now and I desperately, desperately, miss them.
BtheB
May 6, 2007
Two haikus
Creativity
Does it manifest only
When acted upon?
Does it manifest only
When acted upon?
~
Maudlinopsimath
Adjectives like maudlin need
newer nifty nouns
~
Daughter number two dares to criticize my later-in-life creativity by suggesting my haikus may be a tad maudlin and that I seem to be flirting with, or romancing, the dark side. To which I say: harrumph! I have therefore created the word maudlinopsimath. Maudlinopsimath is a noun which means: a person who learns only late in life that they are weakly, tearfully or mawkishly sentimental. She probably thinks I can't laugh at myself, also. Let's see now...a new word for over-educated whelp???
May 2, 2007
Old friends ~ then and now
Barry and Linda's wedding ~ May, 1967 
Crooked Little House Luncheon ~ May, 2007
Today was one of those occasions when former members of an old and noble social club, called the Crooked Little House, met for their spring luncheon at King Henry's Arms Pub in Aurora, Ontario. I took the opportunity of asking some of the Crooked Little House members, who also happened to be groomsmen at my wedding to Linda 40 years ago, to pose with me for an 'after' picture. Pictured immediately above, left to right, are Ted Bird, me (BarrytheBirder), Donald 'Doc' Gordon, and John Dew. In the top photo we are pictured, in the same order, in 1967. Migawd!...where did those years go? I may look and feel like Methuselah on many days, but I sure don't act like I'm 969 years old when I lunch with these and the other Crooked Little House guys. What a hoot! I laughed until it hurt.
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