JOHNNY OUTFITS, COLD CHILLS AND FEELING FUNNY

A lady asked about my gum boots
and I told her that if I really had to
use the toilet and it was occupied,
then I could just fill my boots.

          A week today, Monday morning, I'll be in a hospital change room selecting the latest Johnny shirt asking myself, "Should I wear this one or that one? I wonder which shade of blue is more becoming?" Meanwhile, the doc will be sharpening up his knives, after which, he will pull a hair from his head, toss it into the air and see if it gets cut in two when it lands on the skinny, sharp edge of the blade. Yup, I'll be having a long-awaited operation on the 7th of May, which I don't particularly care to think about, but is subconsciously on my mind every day, like it or not. Although an operation may be an exciting procedure, I am not feeling particularly excited, mostly wondering about the outcome. But since none of that is happening until a week away and it's such a beautiful day outside and I have things to do before I'm physically unable to do much of anything except try to heal, I had better finish writing this blog. 

          Last night, just before it was time to go to sleep, the urge to pee, sent me shuffling from the bed to the toilet like an old man, oh yeah, I am an old man. I had barely managed to lift the lid and reach for my penis when things started feeling funny, a hard to describe sensation but nonetheless, a sensation that I've experienced before. I hadn't even finished peeing before, I felt my body suddenly getting colder and colder and I began shivering, could even hear my teeth clinking together inside my head. Feeling very peculiar as if I might pass out, and not wanting to dive headfirst into the toilet bowl, I scurried back to the bedroom
and threw myself into bed, pulling the covers tightly up to my chin. Sarah asked me if she should call an ambulance or perhaps start driving me to the hospital, which is a long, long drive away on a dark night with moose prowling the roads. Realizing help is not really nearby, I told her I thought the strange feelings that I was experiencing would pass. Besides, depending on the seriousness of my shaky ordeal, if something was dramatically wrong with me, thinking it's highly unlikely I would arrive at the hospital in time anyway, I might as well sit it out for a few more minutes. Sarah took my temperature, which had very suddenly dropped to 35C and said, "If it drops any lower, we have to go to the hospital." As the tremors throughout my body began to still, I could feel my body heating up and before much time had passed my temperature had climbed to 36.4C and I was feeling much better. Maybe it was a case of pre-operation jitters, butterflies in my head, I mean after all, pretty soon I'll be a star in my own mind, waddling sexy like down the runway in my Johnny-outfit, then being tucked under the covers on the gurney and then wheeled into the OR under the bright lights.

          I can't say that I was scared last night as I lay in bed, my Sarah cuddled up to me to help keep me warm but as I felt her body entwined with mine, I couldn't help wondering how much time I have remaining. I mean, I don't kid myself, although it wasn't that long ago, this old man was feeling really good and was physically active - it's just a matter of time until I roll snake-eyes - my life is definitely a crap-shoot and I don't have too many times remaining of being tossed up against a wall to see if I'll still land on my feet. Only a week to go before the doc begins to slice and dice, nick and prick, poke and joke, prod and nod, then wipe the sweat from his brow and begin to re-sew all the guts he took apart and readjusted. But hey, after it's all over and for being such a good boy on the operating table, I've been led to believe that I'll be rewarded with some real good, mind-blowing drugs and with that thought in mind, time to toke up and forget about my problems...peace, eh! - Trip

My wife and I recently started up an Etsy Store a little while ago and if you'd like to check out our artistic creations just click on the link.    

BIODEGRADABLE JEWELLERY

Some Samples of Our Hippie-Jewelry - $10. ea.

          Yesterday, Sarah and I attended an arts and crafts event in Florenceville, NB. Cortney Ardnt-Rector did a wonderful job putting the event together and it was the second time for us to attend, Sarah's delicious cooking and baking going over great once again. I noticed the attendance was good and steady all through the day and I had fun getting back in touch with some of my artistic friends. During the past while, I'd been working on our own jewelry hippie designs and, having never done such a thing, was wondering how people would react and if I was just wasting my time. Quite a few people liked the jewelry, even to the extent of buying some, so I'm thinking it might be a good item to produce and sell when we go hippie-skippy across Canada in 2019, help pay our costs - from the looks of the rising gas prices, come next summer, fuel could be quite expensive. 

          Because the operation as the doctor quoted, I'll feel as though I've "been hit by a truck", painting and making jewelry just might be the ticket to help pass the time as my interior wounds heal. A woman who bought one of my pieces asked how I made it and couldn't believe I used salt-dough.  I've used polymer to sculpt lots of stuff over the years but why I chose salt-dough over polymer is because I can be a lot more creative painting on it and I discovered paint doesn't stick to polymer that great, was able to scrape it off with my fingernail. In this age of plastic-garbage filling our oceans, lakes and landscapes, I was pleased to tell her that the jewelry was biodegradable, if it wasn't so salty, even edible. Also, because of the low cost of the materials used, if I don't count my time too much, I can sell the stuff at a very reasonable price that anyone can afford, even a kid. One thing I really enjoy about our hippie jewelry is that it takes me back in time to when my kids were small and we used to do some dough-art. Hmm, I wonder if I'll ever grow up or maybe I'm just a kid at heart? Yeah, that's a good way to look at it, just a kid at heart

.            Since moving into the house, predominately a corner of the kitchen, giving up my outside studio, I have enjoyed painting and creating things while Sarah does the same thing or cooks and bakes - we have a lot of fun together, whether we're chatting or just involved in our own thing. When I'm back on my feet, half-assed normal again, I don't think I'll move back to the studio, just use it as a workshop when doing something messy or quite smelly. Besides, Sarah doesn't like it when I'm out of sight for too long. We are both sort of up in the air concerning the eventual outcome of my operation, so selling my studio, which is its own building, sometimes comes to the forefront; either selling it or maybe moving it over to another piece of property and then moving into it - would make a terrific tiny house with a great loft for a bedroom. 

          I really slept in today - it was noon before I squinted at the bright sunshine streaming through the window. This tells me that there is really something wrong with me because this is very unusual  - 6-7 hours a night being the norm sleeping. I guess my body is more tired than I realize. And with that thought in mind, so late in the day, I had better get a move on and get some things done...peace, eh! - Trip 

My wife and I recently started up an Etsy Store a little while ago and if you'd like to check out our artistic creations just click on the link.

DIAPERS...FIRST AND POSSIBLE LAST FASHION STATEMENT

Started out wearing a diaper - wonder if???? 

          Woke up this morning, rolled over to check out the time and went wow! It was almost 10:30 a.m. and I'd slept through the night like a log, didn't even get up to relieve myself I was so out of it, probably from having a bath last night. One of my greatest pleasures, especially when I'm in quite a bit of pain is to take a bath as hot as I can stand it - we're talking a simmering, lobster-red heat. Because of the upcoming operation on May 7th, I'll no longer be able to enjoy up-to-my-neck hot baths and I'll have to be very careful having a shower, getting an infection being a possibility. Here I was thinking, once the colostomy bag is attached, the hot bath water would stimulate the gasses contained in the bag and if I just slightly unhooked it, the escaping gas would shoot me around the tub like a motor boat. It's fun to joke about my problem but beneath this happy clown face is a worried man, who most likely won't be the man he once was once the operation is completed. Rearranging my guts, diverting my plumbing is bound to have some everlasting results, like completely depriving me of my dwindling sex-drive and possibly causing me to become a diaper-bound old man for the rest of my days. I mean that's the way I started out in life, the doctor holding me up by my heels and slapping my little red butt - no sex drive and swaddled in diapers. Can't say that's the way I imagined leaving this world - no, anything butt - I mean but. 

           Since nobody gets out of here alive, we all must have thoughts concerning how we would like to exit this world. Since my dad died from a heart attack, that;s something to consider - oh yeah - go to the bathroom grunting and groaning while trying to make a deposit in the porcelain throne, and then, clasp my chest as my heart bursts doesn't sound like an ideal way to depart this wonderful planet. There's also the macho way - having a last orgasm over a hot blonde but that's not going to happen because I can't afford one and my wife wouldn't like that idea. And then, the most practical way, the way many people would like to depart, is to go to sleep one night in the comfort of their bed and never wake up. For me, I was thinking a horse-drawn hearse with several large kegs of beer attached to it, a marching band and a dozen shapely baton-twirling majorettes and then fireworks - launch my body on a rocket and have it explode over the Pacific Ocean - little bits and pieces of me to feed the sea critters - better than all of that plastic.

          life and death go hand in hand like two inseparable lovers from the moment we take our first deep breath and scream bloody murder. It doesn't matter if life is a struggle or if everything comes easily, as much as life would like to be completely free, death is shackled to our wrists patiently waiting for its turn. Sometimes we don't even get a first breath of air before we get the thumbs down and sometimes it just teases us with near misses, perhaps giggling to itself as we try recovering from our almost fatal mishaps. But in the end, no matter how much laughter, good times one has while being alive, death, the ultimate boogeyman comes smiling and knocking at our door. I've heard death knocking over the years but I avoided answering the door. Now, I'm not so sure if it's the loud ringing in my ears, but death seems to be knocking louder these days but so far I've not been tempted to open the door, I cower behind it and have decided I'll never open it. No, death is an uninvited guest and no matter how congenial or convincing it may appear, if it wants in, then it will just have to kick the bloody door down, grab me by my scrawny turkey neck and drag me off. Whew...guess I told death where to get off...peace, eh! - Trip

My wife and I recently started up an Etsy Store a little while ago and if you'd like to check out our artistic creations just click on the link.

PESSIMISM, POETRY AND OLD PALS

Floral Painting in Progress

                   Between the sunshine and now the rain, most of the snow has melted, only a few large clots of it lying around, mostly remnants from being plowed into heaping piles over the winter months. It's odd, now that winter has basically lifted up her delicate snowy white-spangled gown and tip-toed away, I can't help wondering if I'll be around for next winter. I know some people who could see themselves growing to a ripe old age and that's just what they grew to be - old. And maybe that's my problem, I could never see myself becoming old because I never expected to live this long. Yet here I am, and I can't say that it's especially enjoyable now that I'm not feeling so well and then again, at any age, young or old, if a person is not in good health, life can suck. Yeah, I can't say as I can complain, I'm well looked after, my Sarah doting over me all the time, making sure I'm eating and drinking properly. I guess I've finally reached the final stage of life - old age - no place after this except to become older and older till it's all over.

          When I awoke this morning, before opening my wrinkly, old baggy, bloodshot eyes, I just laid in bed and drifted back into a space when I was a young lad. There's something about the comfort of a warm and secure place and as a boy, I'd often lie in bed with my eyes shut listening to the language of the house, the creak of the floor from my mother's footsteps in the kitchen or a bump on the wall as my sisters got ready for school. It felt so snug in bed, the covers pulled up to my chin until I'd fling the covers back and jump out of bed. I'm still able to toss the covers back but leaping out of bed is not going to happen - I'd find myself face down on the floor. I'm basically an early bird sort of a person, so even though I don't really have to get up early, could take my time crawling out of bed, I've always preferred getting up almost instantly. There's something about being up early before everyone else, a time to get my thoughts together without interruptions, while enjoying a cup of coffee or tea. I have to be just beat, almost tired to the bone, before I'm able to sleep in and then if I do, often times I feel rather sluggish throughout the remainder of the day.

           In the snow years of my life, although my memory is sometimes questionable, I still remember a poem I had to memorize in Grade 12. I don't remember the title but I believe the poet was Houseman and now that I'm at ripe elderly age, his words really seem to register more.

With rue my heart is laden

For golden friends I had

For many rose-lipped maiden

And many a light-foot lad.

By brooks too broad for leaping 

The light-foot boys are laid

The rose-lipped girls are sleeping

In fields where roses fade.

          I believe my English teacher at the time said Houseman's poem was pessimistic but I'm not so sure of that. If a person lives long enough, they will get to watch all their friends die and dying is just part of life. Yeah, I know that death is definitely a negative downer but facts are facts - many of my friends are "sleeping where roses fade".  One of the best and oldest friends I've ever had that I never really lost contact with but because of distance, we seldom got to spend much time together. Like other times before, he had really been on my mind. I hadn't chatted with him for over a year or more, when his brother called and told me he wasn't doing very well; he had fallen off a roof and hurt his back. Since he had refused to see a doctor. I was of course very worried until the phone rang one afternoon - it was my friend and it was so good to hear his voice. The thing about being older, the conversations are often about physical ailments and medication so we of course chatted about that for a short while. We promised to get together before too long but whatever injuries he sustained falling off the roof finally did him in. I remember his last words on the phone, "Bye for now," and I wonder like so many people do about the hereafter, if I'll get to see him then. Since being on Facebook, a couple of friends from back in the day contacted me, which was a real surprise. It seemed a little strange to talk about the way things were then but that's when we were the best of friends...peace, eh! - Trip

My wife and I recently started up an Etsy Store a little while ago and if you'd like to check out our artistic creations just click on the link.

TRIP 'N' DAISY CREATIVE JEWELRY

          Unable to do a lot of physical stuff outside, like mend the chicken fence after the heavy snow slid off of the barn roof and took it out, repair the eaves and and numerous other things, I keep myself busy writing blogs, working on some crafts and painting. When Sarah and I go across Canada as a couple of reborn hippies on our 2019 road-trip, we're planning on visiting some craft fairs to help pay our costs. We've been trying to come up with some ideas, like jewelry - items that are small, easy to carry and display. Yesterday, I made some hearts, peace symbols and beads, which will be used to make necklaces or they could also be used to hang off the inside car mirror or even Christmas decorations and valentine mementos. I'm having fun making the jewelry and being able to use my hand-lettering skills is a bonus. In a world inundated with plastic, I'm happy to say, one of the features of our jewelry is that it's biodegradable.

          I'm not one for wearing jewelry much but as I was making up this stuff, since I'm letting my hair grow long for our trip, I was thinking I just might make my own special jewelry to either work into a braid or perhaps hang around my neck. Also, I could custom make jewelry for people, such as letter a couple of names on a heart or paint it in their favourite colours. Although our jewelry is unique, each piece individually created, we're hoping to keep it very affordable. If anyone reading this blog has any idea sor sayings that might be appropriate to use on our jewelry, I'd really be interested in hearing from you.

          As well as creating jewelery, I'm hoping to sculpt some small hippie type stuff too - not quite sure what sort of stuff, so am open to ideas on that one too. Since Sarah and I will be attending the art show in Florenceville this coming Saturday, it will be the first time anyone will have seen any of our hippie creations and I am looking forward to any comments regarding the finished products, see if they're even worthwhile pursuing. Our jewelry is not yet available at our Etsy Store. 

          The day just seems to be zooming by and I still have a lot that I would like to do today. And, as I look at my messy work space and the projects I'm working on, I'm itchy to get at it - not even two weeks away and I'll be undergoing an operation that's going to knock me on my ass...peace, eh! - Trip

My wife and I recently started up an Etsy Store a little while ago and if you'd like to check out our artistic creations just click on the link.   

PUPPY DOGS - LARGE AND SMALL - LOVE 'EM ALL

     

 

My Old Friend Misty in Her Bed on the Sailboat.

Dogs are wonderful animals and I've been involved with quite a few of them over the years. I've had short ones, tall ones, huge ones, teeny ones, hairy ones, not so hairy ones, also nice ones and not so nice ones but hey, like us, they all have their own personalities. One of the first dogs I had was Skippy, a congenial cocker spaniel pup that my folks gave me for Christmas when I was just an early teen. Not sure how it happened but not even a month had gone by when I came home from school one day and no one was home. Upon opening the door, I called out, "Skippy!" As usual, we were both happy to be reunited as he came running up to me, his big brown eyes glistening with happiness and wagging his tail furiously. Not yet fully house-trained, he had widdled on the floor and I remember scolding him until he started walking in a peculiar stiff manner and then fell over on his side. I could feel my heart breaking as I rushed to him, then held him in my arms and watched him die, apparently from eating poison. After I carried Skippy downstairs to the basement, I laid him on the cement floor and then sat down on one of the bottom stairs, tears streaming down my face. As the sunlight beamed through a window warming his still body, I thought I saw his chest rise, I was sure of it - Skippy was breathing - he was alive! It wasn't until I rushed over and stroked his warm body and gently pulled his long ears that I realized it was only my imagination or wishful thinking that had brought Skippy miraculously back to life momentarily. 

           It was a long time, not until I was married, before another dog became part of the household. It was a small, short-haired, a Heinz 57 dog, mostly terrier as far as I could tell. Our two young daughters fell instantly in love with the dog and the three of them were constant companions. Of course, since the dog had brown hair, the girls named her Brownie. Unfortunately, we hadn't had the dog for very long when the kids came rushing into the house bawling their eyes out. Although we lived on a not very busy street, the little dog had been hit by a passing car and killed. She wasn't a pretty sight as I gathered her shattered, bloody body up in my arms and put her inside a cardboard box. As I write this blog, I'm just realizing the amount of dogs that passed through my life, quite a few of them coming to bad endings like the next dog, a black short-haired part-terrier named Salty. He was a highly comical dog. When he laid on his back and I rubbed his chest gently and howled mournfully in his ear, he would begin to howl too and then he would rush to the front door. Well...what can I say, one afternoon when I opened the door to let him out, he ran howling out into the street and got nipped by a passing vehicle. I thought the dog had been knocked unconscious, since the car barely seemed to touch him but although he looked as if he was taking a nap on the side of the road, he was dead. The next dog was a German Shepherd. She had been trained as a guard dog and because my commercial art shop was in an area that was broken into on a regular basis, I thought she would scare the bejeezus out of a burglar. Anyway, long story short, I came into the shop one morning and somehow, Thumper had managed to hang herself and rigor mortis had set in - one of her back legs was stretched to the limit so that only her toes barely touched the floor. The next dog to arrive was Misty, another wee brown dog, which looked like part-terrier and part-dachshund. Cars and dogs just don't seem to get along and one day while I was working in the garage on some artwork, it wasn't until I heard the girls screaming at the bottom of our driveway that I became very alarmed. Expecting the worst, that one of the kids (3 girls now) had been hit by a car, I ran to them as quickly as my bony white legs would carry me. The kids were standing by the edge of the road with horrified expressions on their faces as they looked down at their small dog, her tiny back leg obviously broken. When we rushed her to the vet, he told us that her leg was broken in three places and as far as he could tell, the rest of her was in tact. When he told me, it would cost about a thousand dollars to fix the leg, what could I do? When three teary-eyed little girls are looking up at you, the fate of their little dog in my hands, I gladly paid the money and Misty actually lived to a ripe old age before passing away. 

Rachel and Misty

          When I lived on my sailboat Dreamer II, a little Malti-poo, curly white-haired dog became my first mate. A girlfriend at the time had bought her, the runt of the litter. The dog had a wonderful disposition, wasn't yappy like a lot of smaller dogs and she thought she was tough too - yeah - tough like a marshmallow. She loved the boat life and the water. All I had to say was, "Get in the boat," and she would fly out of the aft hatch and jump into the dinghy, which was tied to the wharf. She too was poisoned from eating tainted dog food that the company recalled and although she didn't die, only became quite sick, she was never quite the same again. When I gave up the boat life, little Misty had a profound effect on one of Sarah's girls and if not for the dog, chances are Sarah and I may never have been married. She loved that little dog and used to dress her up in clothes. Misty lived for about 16 years before she became really sick and basically refused to eat. As she grew weaker and weaker, her weight dropping substantially, one warm sunny morning after I had taken Misty outside to do her business, as I held her in my arms and she looked up at me, I realized that she most likely wouldn't make it before the kids got home from school. We all knew she was dying and realizing it would be hard on Rachel, I told her, she should go and see her where she was lying in her little bed in the kitchen. The girls had barely gone to school, when I sat down on the floor next to Misty and gently stroked her brow and rubbed her ears. I was really surprised when she lifted her head and howled and then died a few minutes later. Of all the dogs I've had in my life, I'd have to say she was my favourite and to this day, about10 years having gone by, I still really miss my little dog. 

           There have been other dogs since then but they were basically outside farm dogs to protect the livestock from the wild critters that live around our place, not get-in-your-way, pampered house pets. At the moment, we don't have a dog and Sarah has been saying she would like to get another one, another Misty ideally. We've considered buying a Malti-poo to take with us on our cross-Canada 2019 road-trip but they are not affordable. Hmm, I wonder if I could trade a painting for one or does anyone have a small, house-trained dog they would like re-home?

          I realize dogs aren't for everyone - many people preferring cats and I've had a few of those in my life as well. However, to me, you just can't beat a dog for loyalty or good company, a cat, something that's covered in dried spit from continually licking itself all over, leaves a bit to be desired in my opinion. Although my Sarah is wonderful company, it might be nice to get another dog...peace, eh! - Trip

 My wife and I recently started up an Etsy Store a little while ago and if you'd like to check out our artistic creations just click on the link.  

CROCUSES, HEARTS AND DREAMS OF 2019

Spring Must be Here - Crocuses are in Bloom

          I guess springtime has finally arrived at the base of Green Mountain because the crocuses just popped up their lazy heads. Although we still have some snow remaining, it's quickly melting and dribbling away. There must be a kzilllion flies outside, their buzzing sometimes louder than the birds, which reminds me, the flycatchers have returned to their nest, which is located up in the woodshed rafters. I also heard some chickadees in the forest, most likely impatient to mate and create more little chickadees. Yesterday was so warm that Sarah and I were able to sit outside in our shirt sleeves, soak in the sun's rays and enjoy a couple of cold drinks and it looks as if today will be the same.

Trip Applying Hearts to Trailer

           The day of my operation will soon be arriving (May 7th) and I expect to be recovering in the hospital for 7-10 days before going home. So, with that in mind, since Sarah is planning to stay in our "Hippie-Hangout" at a friend's place near the hospital during my stay, I removed its winter tarp and opened the windows to clear out the musty odor. While removing the tarp, I noticed some of the ropes, which were used  to secure it in place had rubbed away some of the paint in a few places, so I'll have to touch them up soon, maybe even later today. I'd like to continue painting more hippie stuff on the sides of the trailer but I'm not sure that will be happening this year because it will depend on how active I am. However, if anyone is interested in "spreadin' the love" and having their name lettered on a big red heart, which will be adhered to the trailer, I'll still be able to manage that I'm sure. The hearts are $5.00 each and can be ordered on Etsy, Facebook or even via email tripndaisy777@gmail.com. I'll also be attending the art show in Florenceville this coming Saturday, so just in case someone would like one, along with some of my artwork to display, I'll bring along my paints and brushes to hand-letter them in person. Keep in mind, the more lettering there is on a heart, the smaller the info will be and the harder to read. 

Spreadin' the Love Heart Passengers

          Sarah and I had plans to do a road trip across Canada this year in our "Hippie-Hangout". We would be almost ready to leave right now, but unfortunately we've had to postpone it until 2019. It's a bit of a downer not to be able to go but then again, it will give us more time to make some necessary changes to the trailer, like replace the fridge and stove and also buy a new mattress. Plus, it will give Sarah time to sew up some tie-dyed sheets into curtains - should be a happening place when we hitch it to the truck and head on down the highway. (And speaking of a fridge and stove - does anyone reading this blog have such things for sale? They have to be in good working condition.) Although our trip is postponed, Sarah and I are planning to take some side trips around New Brunswick and Nova Scotia if I'm up to it. We would like to attend some summer craft shows and will be looking for places to stay so if anyone would like a visit from Trip 'n' Daisy or can steer us in those directions, it would be much appreciated. 

          Even though I feel antsy, wish we were soon on our way across Canada, we'll just have to put our travel plans on the back burner, add some spice and let them simmer till next year - then - look out! Well...since it's such a nice day out, before we sit back and enjoy a cold drink in the warm sunshine, I should probably go outside and climb up on the roof to make a small repair - don't need the rain coming in...peace, eh! - Trip

My wife and I recently started up an Etsy Store a little while ago and if you'd like to check out our artistic creations just click on the link.