01 September, 2026

I Don't Like It — Something's Up

01 September 2026

2009

R. Linda:

On Monday morn, the Scottish contingent (or, as me Mam refers to them, the gruesome twosome) left for plaider pastures. Robbie's eye was much improved; you'd never know there was a poke. The two younger kiddos went back to school, and their mother went back to teach her Kindergarten class. Mam's head wound is improving and a lovely shade of sunflower yellow. She is taking it easy and resting. I am at work (as is O'Hare), and that leaves the Dragon home almost alone. Well, she might as well be; Mam is not sociable at the moment because she is "resting." I can't say anything against the Dragon lady still being here, because we are elsewhere and she's the only one cooking and cleaning. That doesn't mean I am enjoying the fact that, for the first time since I've known her, she's actually helping the household, instead of the other way around. 

However, I do not get any pleasure when I first come down for me cuppa joe, and get her reading of headlines: "Ooh, things are really changing. Listen to this: Lunatic exercises for beginners! What's the world coming to?"  

What it really said was Lymphatic exercises for beginners. I try, I really do, to keep me cakehole shut and just move on. But she makes it very hard.

As for Sam, he's gone for the week fishing with his brother in Maine. So no communication there. However, since I work with Ms Jaio, there is communication on that side of the star-crossed lovers, in that she is acting as if Sam doesn't exist. When I asked if she'd heard from the lad, her response was, "Sam who?" So I know not to go there.

To say things have returned to normal is an understatement. What in me world is the definition of normal?  It seems it will be a suspiciously quiet week. Is that even possible? I ask you. When I got home, everyone kept saying, "Wow, nothing has gone wrong lately." The more I hear this, the more convinced I am that that in itself is ominous.

I mentally went through everyone in me life's last communication with me. You know, just looking to see if there was some craziness I missed. I started with me sissy, Sheila. I had rung her up Sunday to see how the "Irish sausage troubles" were going. She had nothing. No, nothing to report on that. So much for yelling at me over the phone in front of a kitchen-full of people, as if I were somehow to blame for the renaming of sausages in Ireland. 

I had checked in with Sam before he left for his fishing trip. That was when he told me that he and Ms Jaio were no longer a "couple." I did not press the conversation in that direction, as I learned me lesson. The only thing he said, besides that he was leaving for Maine and hoping for a good time fishing with his bro, was that he'd keep an eye out for Bigfoot. 

As I say, Ms Jaio and I had no conversation on the obvious elephant in the room. We also had nothing worth writing about at the paper either. 

Weasil rang me up to tell me he left his 'phony baloney' (phone) in the spare bedroom. I went to the bedroom, and there was no phone. He told me to hang up and call his number so the phone would ring in the room and I'd find it. I did. I rang the number, and he answered. I tell ya, if he was anywhere in me vicinity, I'd have given him a right-hander in the face. 

I had checked with me Mam to make sure Dragon taking over her kitchen was all right with her. She said it was fine and no worries. She was busy finishing up book 2 of Le Mort d'Arthur. I didn't think reading was a good idea, but then Le Mort d'Arthur? Was she secretly looking for information on how to fell a dragon? I just didn't and don't understand this, but OK.

So there you have it. Nothing.

The only thing happening is to me! I have finally, after years of writing to you, realised I live in a world of dysfunctional people. Me life is never uneventful and, at times, extremely annoying because of the people in it. 

But for the last few days, nothing.

Sheila has no sausage crisis. Sam is off fishing and looking for Bigfoot. Ms Jaio has never heard of him. Mam is reading up on King Arthur and possibly how to kill a dragon. The Dragon is cleaning me house and reading about lunatics. And Weasil rang me up to help him find the phone he was ringing me on.

Nothing.

Not one blessed thing has happened.

Gabe

Copyright © 2026 All rights reserved  

24 August, 2026

As If Things Weren't Weird Enough

24 August 2026

2008

R. Linda:

I was done. I'd had enough. Done with the Weasil and Robbie show, enough of the medical centre. I wanted a day to meself to relax in me hammock with an Arnie Palmer and nap the world away. That was the plan anyway. 

I had got meself all set; I had me Arnie in hand, told everyone NOT to disturb me because there would be hell to pay if they did, and outside I went. No one said a word; they went back to their troughs of food Dragon was slinging their way. All kinds of Jersey greasiness, foot-long hot dogs smothered in spicy mustard in a massive bun filled to the brim with onions, peppers and potatoes and oh, don't forget the copious amounts of salt! Cast iron stomachs all of them. 

I stepped out the back door and took a deep breath of fresh, clean air, not the hot dog, pepper-filled atmosphere of the kitchen. It was SO damn refreshing, and I thought, wow, this is going to be good!

I went down the deck steps to the beautiful, just-mown lawn (thank you, Guido) and made me way up the garden path to Tonya's lush and quiet garden where me hammy was. I was enjoying the buzz of the bees in the flowers, the songbirds singing, the breeze just enough, and there was me mecca coming round the bend into view. 

I stopped, almost spilling me Arnie Palmer. There by me hammy was THIS:

NO! Not today, this is me day!

I watched as this rather large bear person took over me hammy. I wondered about the timing. Did this thing know this was ME DAY for the hammock? 

Serves ya right, and hey, don't rip the underside!

I sighed. What to do?

At first I thought it was straightening out the under netting so I could use the hammy.

No, he made it nice to give it another go.

I debated going back to the house and getting some help to scare this intruder away, but then I realised Mr. or Mrs Bear was mastering the hammock.

Yeah, we were just getting our big self comfortable.

Yup, life be good
Now I was angry. Not only had this gigantic thing taken over me hammy time, when I got everyone to swear they'd leave me alone while I was out there, but if I chased it away, the hammock was going to stink of bear. I could smell him or her from where I stood. 

It hadn't noticed me or me taking photos of it until I clucked me tongue at it. 

It looked at me like "What?"

It tumbled to the ground

Well, I lost me head; I started shouting at it: "That's me hammy you're smelling up, and it belongs to yours truly, standing right here you, you, you, MISCREANT BEAR YOU!" I know, lame, but well, just what do you shout at a bear? Oddly, it looked taken aback, so much so, it scurried to get out of me hammy.

And as I stood there self-satisfied, it took off for the woods. Good! I thought. So forgetting the bear smell, I went to me hammy, and as soon as I stood before it, the stink wafted up to me nostrils, and I was almost overcome. My lovely new hammy, the one I got for Father's Day, was soiled by a bear!

I can't win. I just can't. I give up!

Gabe

Copyright © 2026 All rights reserved