Templeton

            So, remember how, around last Christmas, I told you about Squeakers the black ops mouse? Well, a little over a week ago, Colleen and I noticed some rodent activity in the kitchen. Naturally, we set out traps, but they were unsuccessful. One was set off the first night they were out, but didn’t catch anything.

            This was when we started to notice how clever this particular rodent was. For starters, it avoided going after the same source of food twice. It avoided the traps. It removed the steel wool we used to plug its entrance, so we had to hot-glue it in to keep it in place. At which point in time it found a new way in. Rather than gnawing through the plastic wrap covering a dish, it lifted up the edge. I was actually tempted to write a note to our uninvited guest to see if it could read.

            Then, on Thursday night, I heard a gnawing from downstairs. Colleen and I went to investigate. That’s when we caught sight of him – not a mouse, as we assumed, but a rat (almost as big as a squirrel)! He skittered across the counter (from where it’d been eating an onion) and down behind the stove.

            Colleen headed over to her parents’ half of the house to see what could be done about this new plot twist, while I stayed to watch over the kitchen. After a while, I heard a skittering behind the stove. Sure enough the rat, henceforth known as Templeton, was coming back. He hauled himself up onto the back of the stove, looked up, saw me, and almost did a back flip in his hurry to scurry off.

            Well, we got a live trap set up. The next day I was sent out to get a trap that’ll electrocute Templeton if he can be lured in. However, we’ve had no luck so far. We still notice occasional signs that Templeton is still around, though he doesn’t seem to have been eating anything. I suspect he’s lying low, aware that we’re trying to get rid of him.

            While I can’t stand having such a pest living in the house, I wish we didn’t have to try to kill him off (I can’t even bring myself to kill bugs). I mean, if we could establish communication with him, I wouldn’t mind cohabitating – as long as he’s willing to wash his paws. Alas, the language barrier is fairly large and we must tolerate Templeton terrorising us until he is caught.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

Also, make sure you check out my wife's blog and her life coaching website.


If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Musical Tastes

            Over this past weekend, I found myself home alone – with my wife and in-laws off to visit a friends’ cottage. This, of course, means one very important thing for me. I get to plug my music into my digital piano and shake the house (well... almost) with my improvised sound system!

            I often forget how important music is to me. I grew up in a very musical household with a large an eclectic selection of music. From the age of five up until the end of high school I was in a large variety of choirs and bands – in my second last year, during the school concert, I performed in every ensemble except one, which I snuck into the following year by pretending my clarinet was a tenor sax. I graduated with 8.5 music credits (when there were a total of 8 music courses) and went on to take piano and singing lessons for the following two years until I gave up on becoming a music teacher.

            Yet, now, music is almost absent from my life. I haven’t played a clarinet in years and I hardly ever sit down at the piano to see how much I remember of my meagre skills. Pretty much the only time I listen to music is in the car (roughly twice a week) and even then I rarely sing along. It isn’t until I’m home alone, with no one to disturb with my volume (what can I say, I’m very self conscious – I also have a great dislike for headphones) and no one to feel self-conscious in front of that I re-discover my love of music.

            It was as I was listening to my music – at an outrageous, wonderful volume – that I got to thinking. I was listening to a few songs that have been favourites of mine since childhood, noticing how much they spoke to me, and I started to wonder, how much had those songs helped to shape me into the person I am today?

            Thinking on it further, I considered how my brother’s taste in music differed from mine. We’ve always been very different people, and it showed in the music we liked. So, my question changed.

            Does the music we listen to influence the people we become, or do we enjoy the music that speaks to us because it speaks to who we are?

            It’s probably impossible to say, at least without running a study. I like to think it’s a combination of the two – we choose to listen to the music that speaks to who we are and, in turn, that music helps to grow those aspects of ourselves as we grow older.

            Whatever the answer, I’m going to try to bring more music into my life. It probably won’t work, but who knows? As long as I keep trying each time I remember how important music is to me, eventually I’ll find a way to make it stick around and enrich my life.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

Also, make sure you check out my wife's blog and her life coaching website.


If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Heat Wave

            I don’t know about the rest of you, but we just had a terrible heat wave over the last week. Luckily I didn't have to deal with the heat itself all that much, but it did get in the way of the usual running of life.

            Colleen and I had just started getting into our new routine – we actually had a work schedule set up for ourselves and it was already improving our productivity – when this smouldering heat comes along, intent on hanging about all week. It came along and spoiled everything.

            See, our home is set up like this: we have one room downstairs which serves as dining room, living room and kitchen, while upstairs we have our bedroom, workroom and bathroom. Only the downstairs is air-conditioned.

            To further this, our workroom contains a lot of electronics which produce heat, particularly when they’re being use. While we make chainmaille, we always have a movie or show playing because – let’s face it – no matter how much patience you have, if you’re making as much chainmaille as we do, you need something else going on to keep your brain from melting.

            So, we had two choices: work upstairs in the sweltering heat, adding more heat to the point where it would be impossible to sleep at night, or move downstairs while lowering productivity. Unsurprisingly, we chose the latter.

            But we’re nothing if not adaptable. I often read to Colleen while she’s doing various chores or tasks, so that’s what much of the days went to for me. We finished Take a Thief (Mercedes Lackey), went through the whole of Homeland and most of Exile (R.A. Salvatore). Meanwhile, extra housework got done, a little chainmaille was completed and, while I wasn't reading, a lot more writing work got done than usual.

            Finally a thunderstorm came along and broke the heat. Usually “it never rains but it pours” is a negative saying, but in this case it was delightful. Now we can get back to work as usual. Although, I must admit – as sore as my throat has gotten at times, I'm going to miss reading so much.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.