Gracie’s got a ghost

      Every once in a while I roll my carcass out of bed early. Recently it hasn’t been to accompany, my wife, the Pearl of the Orient to the swimming pool, but to wheel my bike around Drizzle Creek in the cool of the early morning… and of course to stop by the Bakery to see what’s new with the early risers.

      The early risers are generally made up of an entirely different crew than the regular 9 to 11 coffee break crowd, except for Moose who’s liable to be there most any time.  So there’s a whole new pool of debating skills and information to stimulate one’s cranial functions.

      This week as I ambled in to the usual chorus of jibes about having ‘overnight accidents’, Grace and Sheila were deep in discussion on the general uselessness of the male of the species, both resenting their spouses who were still asleep while they themselves were out after the almighty dollar.

      Grace looked particularly forlorn, and kept rolling her tongue up into one cheek and grumbling.

      “You look beat Grace. Grumpier than a bear with a sore tooth,” I observed as Grace rubbed her jaw tenderly.

      “Exactly! I’ve got a tooth that’s raising Cain and my appointment isn’t till October. I wish he’d pull ‘em all out!” she harrumphed, taking another slug of coffee and wincing as the hot liquid hit the tender tooth.

      “Pull ‘em all out! Why on earth wouldn’t you just get ‘em fixed up and visit the dentist more regularly,” I wondered aloud looking for, and expecting a unique female perspective.

      Grace didn’t disappoint.

      “Because I hate going to the dentist and if I got them all out, I wouldn’t ever have to go back,” snapped Grace, the sore tooth not improving her demeanor at all.

      “Sorry,” she apologized, “But I haven’t been getting a lot of sound sleep lately, what with this tooth and that pesky ghost.”

      “Ghost? Tell me more?” I asked as I poured refills and turned on my mental tape recorder. After all it’s important to keep the facts straight.

      “ Oh, the ceiling fan kept coming on the other night with no one touching the switch. I was afraid there was a problem with the wiring so Dave crawled around in the attic for an hour and pronounced everything was normal. He didn’t even step through the ceiling drywall, which is surprising as I expected him to double clutch when he ran his head into the shingling nails sticking down through the roof,” snorted Grace, obviously tickled by Dave’s discomfort or imagining him sitting astride a rafter with both his legs hanging through the ceiling.

      “Anyways, we always have these strange little things happen and we figure it’s just the ghost of either the long departed Harold or old Frank rattling around the house they occupied in lives passed,” explained Grace as she drained her cup and held it out for a refill after an examination of the clock showed another five minutes before the opening bell.

      “I told my house guest about it and she freaked. Let a wail out of her every time the house creaked or a bug hit the screen. Haven’t been able to get a decent night’s sleep for the past week,” moaned Grace before finally rising and heading off to start the sort.

      So the next summer night you are cruising through Pinewood in the wee hours and the moon is shining brightly, keep and eye on Grace’s house for something white and ethereal drifting around the vicinity of the swimming pool. It might be a ghost… or maybe just Dave and Grace out taking a late night skinny dip.

The right tool for the job

      The dog days of August are gone and with a nip in the early morning air the usual crowd at the Bakery down in Drizzle Creek had a visible spring in their step as they headed in for the morning debating session. Something was in the air.

      A spirited discussion on the purchase of new power tools ensued. With winter closing in, time is getting short to complete those outside projects prior to hibernation and one must have the proper tools. Many a toolbox has suffered considerable attrition since last spring. The Runt lost his rechargeable batteries and flashlight fending off the attack of a vicious garter snake that had crawled out from under the floorboards of his new boat just last week

      “Next ones will float,” he said nervously, still rattled from his close call with the deadly viper.

      Moose explained he had burnt out his drill batteries during emergency use on his trolling motor and depth finder. When he tried to boost the charge level, they had both exploded ventilating his garage wall. Then Moose being the authourity on most everything started the lecture on the proper selection of a new power tool.

      “You make sure your sinuses are clear and then head down to Wally-World. The tool collection is in the back corner, but you must take real care to make sure you get a fresh one. After all those batteries deteriorate if they’ve been sitting around too long,” explained Moose as he sucked the last of the peanut butter out of his teeth, took a final swig of high test from refill # 4 and settled back to imbue us with higher education.

      “Pick up the appropriate box and carefully open it close to your head. Quickly inhale the atmosphere making sure to breathe in through the nose and slowly out through the mouth taking care to roll the air thoroughly around the back of your tongue to capture the rich, full bouquet,” he said, demonstrating the appropriate breathing technique.

      “You should feel a burning sensation throughout your nasal area, and you eyes should tear up if you get a really good one,” he added with obvious authourity.

      “You see all these goods are manufactured overseas, and the shipping containers have to be thoroughly fumigated before they are opened. With a little practice not only can you tell the date of manufacture, and which country it came from, but also the region of that country. A drill from Northern China, has a totally different bouquet than one from the Hong Kong,” Moose concluded, holding out his cup for another refill.

      “Sounds like you’ve got it down to a science. How about you come along with me to Wally-World and help me select a new combo power tool set,” suggested the Runt, obviously impressed with Moose’s prowess.

      “Sorry no can do,” Moose replied way too quickly.

      “Why not? Can’t help out a buddy?” the Runt asked sulkily, his feelings obviously hurt.

      “No, no… sure would like to help… but it’s, well… kinda embarrassing…,” stumbled Moose, obviously reluctant to explain, but unwilling to let a buddy think he would let him down.

      “Y’ see last week I was down at Wally-World checking out the new tool selection, including freshness checks and I got so into it I didn’t notice these two security dudes watching me, “ he explained, wringing his hands helplessly.

      “I guess the fumigant was still a little strong or I was hyperventilating or somethin’ anyways I got a little confused and disoriented so I headed out for some fresh air, a scarce commodity in Fat Frantic that day as the wind was blowing straight from the paper mills,” continued Moose doing his best to avoid getting to the point.

      “The missus was with me shopping for some unmentionables, so I detoured through the lingerie section to advise her of my destination, an’ I was in such a fog, without realizing what I was doing, I picked a pair of lace panties up off a display and gave them a thorough sniffin’. Before I could recover, the two security thugs grabbed be and threw me out of the store. Said it was a family store and such perverted behaviour would not be tolerated,” protested Moose, his face blazing red.

      The whole debating crew erupted into a cacophony of coughing, spraying and choking as coffee, toast and peanut butter was liberally spattered across the Bakery.

       “ All those new tools and I’ve been banned,” whimpered Moose dabbing his face and shirt with a napkin.