BOB

When my father died, about a year later, my mother met Bob.  He turned out to not be our most favourite person in the world.  I think we felt he stole our mother's happiness and free spirit, not to mention a lot of my dad's and her money.  But she ended up living with him longer than my dad.

The reason I bring this up is because, for some reason, I always always, never miss, remembering his birthday on Nov. 18th.  Of course he has long been dead but I never forget it.

The poem I wrote three years ago was about Bob.  It's partially true.

Tomorrow I meet with the notary and sign the final documents and I will finally be rid of that stupid house in Nanaimo.  There was a last minute glitch which of course a lawyer caused.  JEEZ!!  If there are any lawyers reading this…well don't.

Right after the appointment Monte and I are heading off to Port Alberni.  He gets a shot from his dr. and I need to scope out how much stuff will be moved from his place to Kamloops when the time comes.  I'm taking my camera, we will be listening to music all the way.  So today's post is mercifully short, probably longer tomorrow night with pics.  TTYL

MY UNDER FIVE DOLLAR SURPRISE ARYN BOUGHT ME.  IT CHANGES COLOUR AND IS SO PRETTY!!!

DEAD BOB

Today is dead Bob’s birthday

Not a man we wanted

He never had anything nice to say

but right now I feel haunted

I wasn’t very nice to him

It was easy to be mean

but one day, just upon a whim

On him I decided to lean

I asked him if he could help me

untangle a mess with my kin

I needed his specific expertise

to solve the dilemma I was in

Bob made wooden boxes 

he had so many from his past

my cousin was having a birthday 

and I needed a gift super fast

So I approached dead Bob and asked him

Can I have one of those boxes you’ve made?

Of course you can! prideful to the brim

My angst with him began to fade

So now hes dead and no longer here

and my memories of him are dim

I do remember to none of us he adhered

But I have the littlest fondness in me for him.