Yea I am on this DNA thing again, sort of…

Phew thank god it’s over. Another Christmas has come and gone leaving in its path a trial of frayed nerves but lots of goodwill. In past years I promise never to do what I do again and the following year I just do it all over again. This year though I made a note in my smart phone which is going to pop up in December 1st 2011 reminding me of this last Christmas. With some luck ill still have the same phone.

We generally have our gift giving at Christmas Eve, that way we don’t conflict with other families if the kids have to be elsewhere. For the most part it works out fine. Like the last 5 years in Calgary, we have a delicious meal, with lots of fat and calories and I always have problems sleeping after.  Yes, I also have a New Year resolution.

After all the gouging, we set up the movie camera and frolic.

I don’t like the orderly giving of gifts, my motto is take what is yours and have fun. My oldest son however was handing out gifts, guess he is in training. My kid’s grandma went way beyond her usual gift this year and surprised the kids each with a very generous cheque. I knew what was in the envelopes so I lined up the 3 kids on the couch and had them open the envelopes all at the same time. Great memory. It is all on film.

I won’t chat about the frayed nerve part.

Christmas day was Phone day. We call people in all corners of the world, my brother in Germany, my sisters in England and brothers in St Kitts, and the Toronto gang. We have a long distance plan. We can call everywhere in the world except for the Caribbean.  Jo and I fight for turns. I try to get in my calls first because she talks a lot and of course deny it. This year I timed one call so I could make my point. She talked to her old boss who lives in farm country Ontario for one and a half hours. When it was my turn I was so tired of listening to her that I forgot who to call next. Next year I will make a list.

When Christmas falls on the weekend it messes up your internal clock. Sunday came around, Jo was not felling well, I suspect her equilibrium was off, after all everything is related to the ear. We spent the entire day doing nothing. In the evening we looked at the movie Remembrance Day and then we went to bed. I don’t recall ever seeing that movie.

I look at movies on TV but I prefer the quick comedy shows and weekly realty shows. I hate The Apprentice and the modelling show. To get out of the house occasionally, I have been to the theatre twice in the past 20 years; I saw Ray Charles movie and Avatar. Probably take another 10 years before I go again.

That pisses Jo off, oh well.

There are lots of things I don’t view as entertainment, like random killing, blacks being treated like idiots, children being molested and women getting raped. Quite a list eh. Well what do I like? I like Christmas movies, you know some bad guy or girl enters to close the plant and then Christmas sets in. I also like movies about happy family situations. And I like Old Westerns, probably goes back to my childhood in St Kitts. The killing in those movies are not real.

I hated Ray Charles the druggy, but I love his music. I have 3 copies of the sound track and 2 copies of the movie. Jo told all my friends that I went to see the movie; you would think I was special or something, so guess what I got for Christmas that year?

I have a really bad memory for movies I have seen. I can see a movie on TV today and next week I have to see at least a half of it before I remember having seen it. No it is not my age.

For example, I saw a movie last weekend before Christmas where this black guy appear out of nowhere, didn’t fit with the story at all, so I figured he was going to get killed. He went into a dark room with his gun drawn, and I said to Jo, ‘damn he is going to get killed’, sure enough the idiot got shot. I think if he had some help he would not have entered that room. If I were in St Kitts and at the movies we would be shouting at him not to go into the room. So I got upset and changed the channel.

On Christmas day, I forgot that I had seen the movie the week before and the same thing happened.

What the definition of insanity?

So I am thinking, where do they find these guys? I know, I know It’s just a movie. But it is my story.

Jo thinks I take the movies too seriously. I pay my money so I want to be entertained. I like shows about nature. I have a zillion shows taped on my PVR (not sure what it stands for) and when I get bored I look at them. My absolute favourite is a show about pigeons; call Pigeon Genius, showing how intelligent they are. Well I’ve always known that. I love pigeons even the ones that live in the city. I can sit and look at them all day.

In the early days in Toronto, I was living with my sister, when a cousin fresh off the mother ship (BOAC) came by on the bus with a couple of pigeons in a box. I didn’t know where he got them, some park I think, but I knew he intended to eat them. I didn’t ask. He was from The Village, we ate pigeons there. He said he had to move and needed a place to house them for a couple of days. My sister, who had a back yard went against my advice and decided to help out. I protested, because I know pigeons. I like them but I didn’t want to live with them anymore. My sister would feed them every afternoon when she got home from work.  I did not want them to see me as they tend to bond.

Well, my cousin did not come back for weeks and the pigeons got out of the box, I believe it was an accident, or not. They are not stupid birds; they know where the free food is. She tried for months to get rid of them and then she gave up. One day they showed up with babies, the way they were strutting I could tell it was a thank you gesture. I suspect their great, great, great, grand children still live in the neighbourhood.

Pigeons have markers encoded in their DNA indicating where they were born and they stay there. They are not into this migration business. As a kid I raised pigeons, we had some for racing and some for eating. Home is where the free food is.

Damn, it is easy to get distracted talking about pigeons.

Yesterday, two days after Christmas, I was thinking about my cousin, the one with the two pigeons. I was wondering where he might be as I had not seen him in years. He was one of those cousins you grew up with but you never quite knew how he fitted in. I was vegetating on The Couch. It did not take long for my thoughts to stray to St Kitts. I was thinking it would be nice to replace some of my older memories, pre 1970 St Kitts, with more recent ones, for that I would have to get off the couch and go home. Then I had a flask back of a more recent memory.

In 1998, I remember the year, because it was the world cup of soccer that France won. We started looking at the games in Toronto, then went to St Kitts for the music festival and finished the finals in Toronto. My oldest son, who has a French Canadian mom, was quite excited for France. He still has posters on his wall.

Anyway while visiting St Kitts, we went to Frigate Bay one afternoon to partake in some of the festivities, music, food etc and we were having a great time. It was the place to be. In the middle of all the excitement there were a couple of gunshots and you could see people running towards us. We cleared the way, my instinct is not to follow crowds, and we did not want to get trampled. In the middle of the stampede, there was a cop, who seemed to be in pursuit of the bad guy.

Comic relief, it’s hard to run in sand wearing cop boots, but I had to take the situation seriously for my kids’ sake, although I wanted to laugh.

 Right behind him there was a young boy, 12 or 13 years old also in hot pursuit. He was bare footed so he was able to keep up and he seemed to be shouting something. As they got close enough, it all made sense, the boy had a gun in his hand and he was shouting to the cop;

 ‘mister, mister, you dropped your gun’.

I was in stitches, great comic relief.

This time I held my crotch, pointed at the cop and kid while clacking my fourth finger and thumb as I jumped up and down, dying with laughter.

I was in my late forties.  Sorry you had to be there.

Once a Kittitian always a Kittitian no matter how long you stay away. (read about my DNA)

The only Kittitian Couch potato living in Calgary.

Share

You can call me cheap, absolutely.

One of my favourite Christmas memories as a kid was being with my mom. I think she was the best Christmas cake maker in the world. She liked Christmas Carols and she was a good singer. I can still hear her voice, I suspect she is the reason I like Christmas music. Once again I miss her all over again.

This year because of Facebook it is even worse as everyone is chatting about St Kitts. Bar Humbug.

Here in Calgary, Christmas week and the Carter family are ready for the big day. Actually I have been ready for months. I am not big on the gift giving thing mostly because it can get very expensive. Sounds cheap?

 Jo on the other hand thinks that Christmas is the time to go spend money. We have guidelines for gift giving, only our children and our grandchildren and Jo’s mom. That’s it. Oh and Jo’s friends at work, they exchange a little gift. We always make a list so she won’t forget and cross off the names as we buy the gifts. Something you should know, that was the royal ‘we’. I never see the list. I don’t want to, remember I am cheap.

This year I got curious so I sneaked a peak at the list. I saw her sisters and her sister’s kids, and some cousins and my sisters’ kids and some of the sibling’s children now have children. Enough to give me a headache.

Last week I asked about the list, it is waaaay over the agreed budget; I won’t tell you who else is on the list because my family reads this. I don’t need enemies, everyone likes Jo and so it would be my fault.

After looking at the list I started asking myself, should I be naughty or nice. Should I have a fight with Jo? Maybe I should just ruin Christmas once and for all and save us a whole lot of money. Evil Eh!

Yes like Ebenezer Scrooge.

Last Thursday, Jo called me from work. I already cut her off from calling about Christmas so she starts like this:

Jo: ‘do you have the doctor’s phone number, I need to book an appointment, and my blood pressure is too high’.

Get it? Her blood pressure is high. I am a caring husband; my first instinct was ‘damn should I call 911!’

Me. ‘What would you like me to do?’

Jo. ‘I just thought of something, now I have you on the phone, earlier I saw a flyer with discounted movie tickets, I think I will get some as Christmas gifts’.

Me. ‘The blood pressure, what do you want me to do?’

Jo. “I think I will get 10 that would make great gifts for the in-laws’

Me. ‘Whose’?

Silence.

Me. ‘Jo’?

Jo. ‘What do you think?’

Me. “do you really care what I think?’

Jo. ‘Not really, I just want you to agree’

Me. ‘How about your blood pressure’?

Jo. ‘I will go by the drug store on my way to get the tickets and get my pressure tested’.

We have a machine at home just so you know.

Me. ‘Good Idea’.

Jo. ‘Thanks hon. I am glad we are in agreement about the tickets’

I thought the drug store visit was a good idea.

Me. ‘Who are those tickets for?’

She had already hung up. My bet is that she has a new list, else she would not call. In case you are wondering my name was not on the first list.

A couple hours later I called the credit card company for recent transactions. I bet she is really having a good time. Now it’s my blood pressure that is the problem.

I must tell you, Ebenezer Scrooge sounds like a good person.

Last year Jo organized a party for some of her friends from work. In Toronto we have lots of family. When it was our turn to have the Christmas party Jo would cook for two families.  Sometimes I wonder if she knows the size of my family. Everyone would go home with all the extras. That’s what she is like. Give, give and give.

Everyone says I am lucky to have her, of course they don’t see her stressing.

Anyway last year she invited about 15 people to the house. I am not sure exactly what happened but only half of them showed up, quite a few of the invitees came down with a cold. Jo prepared food for 30 people, she just can’t help herself, she likes to make sure that everyone leaves happy.

I have to be honest, I was not too happy, I don’t like left overs for more than one day. I was thinking of who I can give the food to. Later that night my sons’ friends who are really big boys showed up. My son must have called them, for they came over in two cars and cleaned us out. They also drank my week supply of beer which was not part of the deal.  

Jo likes it when there is no food left. I like my beer.

She said she would not have a Christmas party again; she could not handle the disappointment. Too bad, having people in the house at Christmas is a lot of fun, except for the money part.

We would like to go to Toronto for Christmas, unfortunately my family in Calgary has grown to the point where it is almost impossible to travel there. So we stay together and have our little party.

Yes we are set for Christmas. I wish my mom was here though. (click to read about my mom)

The only Kittitian couch potato in Calgary.

Share

Me, the Procrastinator

This morning as usual I drove Jo to work. Normally we do not communicate except when she says ‘kiss kiss’ then ‘bye’. For the most part I am on automatic pilot, it is 5:30 in the morning. If she has to talk like this morning my response is a shake of the head or a grunt if I am pissed about something.

Last night like other nights for the past week I have not slept well. I have a bit of a cold and I cough which keeps me up. I now have a additional problem as my neck hurts because I have to give up my regular pillow (Pablum) for some big fluffy ones to keep my head upright. Thought I could slip that Pablum reference in without explanation. My regular pillow is a non pillow. It flat and soft and is there because it makes the bed look good. Now you know why I don’t travel, I can’t take it with me. In hotels I don’t use a pillow, and for some reason I have restless nights.

Anyway, this morning we driving along and I asked Jo if she wants to stop for a coffee. I might as well have shot off a cannon. She hits the brakes, ahaha, just some drama, I am driving, she wants to know why I want to buy her coffee.

Me. ‘ I have no reason to rush back home.’

Jo. ‘You never do, you probably just go home and sleep’

Now I am insulted, that’s how much she has been paying attention.

Me. ‘On Tuesdays I go home and prepare my blog post’

Jo. ‘I didn’t know that. Why you are not doing that today?’

That kind of caught me by surprise. Everyone knows that I decided to stop blogging until the New Year. Obviously except Jo. Then I remembered, I added that note to my last blog at the end, just before I posted it, she did not see it.

Jo generally reads my posts on Monday night. Last night I fell asleep by the christmnas tree just after we finished dinner. I am trying to get fat so I can use last years New Year’s resolution. She is my proof reader of sorts. Although she never fixes anything, well I don’t think so. If after she finishes reading she smiles then I know she likes it.

Which is good right? Wrong.

Jo knows me very well, she knows how I think, what I am trying to say even before I say it. So when she reads my post, it is not like she is reading for real, she is hearing my voice, which is not a good thing because she hears what I want to say. She says I make her laugh, it is not on purpose. Sometimes I wonder about her.

About a month ago, I devised a plan to get a different reaction. I needed her to say something different. I decided to write something in my draft that I know is going to piss her off. I wrote, ‘my stupid son, bla bla bla’, I know Jo, she is fiercely loyal and protective of her children. No one bad mouths them.

So I am sitting there while she reads, you know me right, I laugh at myself, so I am cracking up inside as she reads, waiting. There was a second reason for my trickery; I do not know for sure that she reads what I write. For all I know she looks at the computer and think about work. She likes to work. Then after a while she smiles. It could happen like that, right?

Anyway when she was finished my slander story, she just got up and walked away. One of Jo’s best or worst traits is that she does not like to criticise.  Ok, now what do I do with that? I am following her, asking for a reaction, nothing.

This is like our morning drives.

 I got the message; I took the section out and told her. Do you want to know her response?

She smiles, ‘I like it’. Now I can start editing it.

Ok, this morning we are on our way to work and she wants to know why I decided not to write.

Me. ‘just taking a break, have to think about where I go next’

Jo. ‘well I think it’s a mistake’

We go back to our quiet silent drive. We got to her work, ‘kiss kiss’, ‘bye’.

Well it got me thinking, why does she think it’s a mistake? Jo is quite supportive, she does care that I write, she says she sees a difference in me, something about being happy. What does she know.

The truth is I am not a good finisher, a bit of a procrastinator. I have great ideas and would start projects then stop because my next project is more exciting. My brain cannot handle one think at a time. I have no limits to my ideas, just the follow through.

So here I am writing as fast as I can to continue my journey.

Today rather than write a whole story ill just link to an old one, (click to read).

The only Kittitian Couch Potato in Calgary

Share

Who doesn’t like christmas music?

How many ways can you say merry Christmas? I wrote down a few, no I am not multi lingual, I Googled them, ‘the new way to look smart’.

“Merry Christmas: Joyeux Noë: Geseënde Kersfees: Feliz Navidad: Feliz Natal: Glædelig Jul: Zalig Kerstfeast: Melkin Yelidet Beaal: Froehliche Weihnachten: Mele Kalikimaka: Christmas Mon”

After I Goggled, I got thinking about Christmas music. My kids don’t like Christmas Music, well so they say, so I began thinking about the reasons why. I Googled some of the popular Christmas songs and I can understand why the kids are not into them. When they were little they would ask me what the songs meant and I could not answer. Here are some examples.

“Hark the herald angels sing”

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly, Fa la la la la, la la la la.”

How do I explain these words? I guess you just take it for granted that they mean something; it is what it is, like faith.

There are lots of things in life that you just take for granted, example; if you are a Facebook user you know that sometimes you get newsfeeds that are really old and you wonder why they showing up now. How does Facebook sort the feeds? I wish someone would explain to me the logic behind the sequence of Facebook newsfeeds.

I guess no one knows for sure but I bet you wondering where I am going with this.

A few weeks ago (pretend that we are in 2010 when I wrote this), I saw this feed from my cousin Keeth France announcing the kickoff of the SKN carnival season. This was at the beginning of November, so I had to look at the date, is it current or is it one of Facebook feed problem?

Makes you wonder what you been missing, what the heck, the start of the carnival season in November? I am obviously out of touch.

Being the sceptic that I am, after all it is just data on a computer, the next day I went online to a SKN radio station (kyssonline.com) and sure enough they were playing Christmas music. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas music so it can never start too early. In fact I think they should move the kick off back to October, just so I can listen to the music.

If I started playing Christmas music at home in October, my kids would wonder if it’s time for the straight jacket.

When I was a kid growing up in St Kitts, Christmas season (Carnival) started in the middle of December. Maybe a week or so earlier you would hear the bands in the village tuning up for the season. It was a time of great anticipation. It was the music was what triggered the seasonal good feelings.

The week of Christmas was quite magical. The magic for me included the arrival of the ‘Canadian Apples’. I have to interject here. I immigrated to Toronto in January, right after the Christmas season. On my first trip to the supermarket in Toronto, imagine my surprise when I saw Macintosh (Christmas) apples. Christmas will never be the same with the apple smell all year, sacrilegious.

Maybe they did not realize that Christmas had passed, is what I was thinking.

Before I started writing this story I asked my siblings, the ones closest to me in age, what they remembered about Christmas gift giving at home and I got 3 different stories.

One sister recalled that my dad would buy each of us a gift. That seems so unlikely to me, he was not the shopping type. My brother remembers that my dad, sometime during the week of Christmas, would get a handful of money, toss the bills in the air and a great scramble would follow. That was our gift buying money. My dad had a mischievous streak about him, but I don’t recall that story, besides I was mean, so chances are I would have ended up with most of the money.

What I remember was my mom going downtown on Christmas Eve and buying us all a gift. During the week leading up to her shopping spree I would window shop and give my mom a list. Oh yea, I would walk the streets, visit all the stores and dream.

Whatever the truth is, that’s the magic of Christmas I guess, you make up your own memories.

The magic for me was in the twinkling Christmas lights.

We all agreed on one thing. My mom would go shopping for material to make curtain just before the magical day. She was also a part time seamstress. She would change the curtains in the house every Christmas. They gave the house a nice new look. Also my dad would get some guys to lay new linoleum. I am not sure it that was every Christmas but it happened around Christmas time. We would also decorate the tree on Christmas Eve.

New linoleum, nice curtains, fresh (some rotten) apples, smell of the tree, blinking lights, Christmas music, toys, sorrel water and one of my favourites, fresh baked cake, mom’s, ahh heaven.

I had an Aunt Elsie that lived in NY (she died recently at 96, may she rest in peace). She would send us a barrel of clothes every couple of years. One year, I was 12 I believe, she sent me my first long pants. I was now a big man, except I could only wear them when my dad was not around. There was only one man in our house. Hahahaha, I think.

Anyway who does not like Christmas music?

Christmas day was generally very quiet; we went to church, did the gift thing and waited for Boxing Day.

I almost forgot, we had an ice cream mixer. I hated that thing, it was really hard to turn, but the ice cream was awesome, just another Christmas memory.

Boxing Day, this was the carnival season mixed in with Christmas, great times, music, masquerades, clowns, steel pan, cake. I was a cake thief. These performing troupes would parade the village stopping at certain places to perform their act then moving on. We were quite fortunate to have a great view from the second floor balcony in our house. The troupes would stop and perform for us. The villagers would gather around and enjoy the show.

My favourite performers was the ‘swaga business’ troupe. The guys would make fun of other people in rhyme to music. Today it is called improvisational theatre. They were really good at the craft. My dad would pay the performers.

Then there was the ‘Bull’ from Sandy Point, I think his name was Wusu. He took the job seriously. People were genuinely scared of this guy. It was like the running of the bulls in Spain. This guy dressed as a bull would actually try to gourd onlookers. I remembered one year this guy Bim, had to climb up a tree in front of the Byron’s house to get away from the Bull, well the Bull went up the tree after him. He had to jump from a high branch to escape the bull. Haha, good times.

When the bull entered the village the streets would empty, only the very bold would stick around.

Do they have Sycamore trees in St Kitts? I think the tree that Bim climbed was a Sycamore tree.

What I remembered most about that art form was the music. Bull music had some special beats that lingered long after the troupe had left.

I love St Kitts style Christmas cake. I would do the cake run in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep. My mom’s cake was so good.

Can someone send me a St Kitts style Christmas cake?

That’s all I want for Christmas, and an iPad and for some unknown reason I keep buying shirts, I could use some more, not blue or grey or brown but with vertical stripes, they make me look taller.

Did I mention that my kids don’t really care for Christmas music? My grandkids do. Maybe it skipped a generation.

The first 5 years of the 1970’s my life in Toronto was quite tumultuous, menial jobs, lots of stresses and loneliness. Christmas was probably the only ‘fun’ time of the year. The first couple of Christmases I would spend the day with my Uncle Rowland’s family. Mother Gwyn, my aunt knew how to do the Christmas trimmings and I have lots of cousins.

It was great for the first two years, knowing me, I was probably asked not to come back, I can be mischievous. I am not sure why but the next two years that followed I spent with my Uncle Godwin and his family.

Actually I do remember, it was a man thing. He and I were the only males in the house so we got the Turkey legs, important detail.

Then the mid 70’s came along, my jobs situation improved although I kept getting fired. Luckily I was always able to find a better job every time. It seemed like there was a master plan that I was not privy to.

As you know I got married, had a baby and in the middle of all this chaos both of my parents passed away.

This year I find myself reflecting a lot on my parents. I lived with them to just past my 18th birthday (my brat years) and didn’t have a change to know them as an adult. I probably missed a lot.

(If you think you are missing some details just read my blog).

I am the 3rd from the bottom of 13 siblings. By the mid 70’s 2 of my slightly older sisters and my younger brother was all living in Toronto. After my parents passed away my youngest sister J joined us. J was around my mom by herself and she was lucky to have her undivided attention. She even learned to cook really well.

Me and my siblings would spend a lot of time together especially on holidays.

In the 70’s (as today) we would gather at one of our houses on Christmas day. Each year we would rotate from house to house. Each of us had at least one baby, the Carter clang was growing. We would try and do some of the things we did back in St Kitts. We were young and could still wuukup (hahaha dance and gyrate our waist for my Canadian friends). We danced, sang, ate and be merry. My brother in law VB would always make sorrel water (Google). I didn’t have to steal cake anymore I always went home with at least two whole ones. My sisters know me well.

It is hard to explain what it is like when the siblings get together. If you have ever been around us you know it is madness. Do you know we can all be having our own unique conversation, all at the same time and with each other? In some miraculous way the conversations would end at the same time with full understanding.  The volume can be overwhelming; no one else can understand us. I believe we learned that skill competing for my mom’s attention. My mom was able to follow the individual sound bites and react accordingly.

I have a video of the siblings dancing, ooops wuuking up to string band music; unfortunately it’s on a ‘big’ cassette tape. It would be good YouTube video.

Back then the kids enjoyed the Christmas because the parents were having such a great time.

The eighties rolled around and my life changes again. Jo is from Quebec and she is very close to her family. We would go to Quebec every other year. When Christmas rolled around only wild horses could keep her away. We had some interesting trips. I remember one year we left Toronto in a snow storm. We were not able to see more than a single car length ahead of us. We followed trucks all the way.

We travelled in this blinding snow storm for eight hours. Our destination was Sherbrook in the eastern townships in Quebec, which is very mountainous. There were parts of the trip where I would look to my left and see a drop of hundreds of feet. If we slid off the road, no one would know until the snow melted.

Driving in Sherbrook was no piece of cake either. They forgot to level the ground when they built the city. The city is all uphill with snow covered roads; I don’t think they remove the snow all winter. In the early days I had a stick shift. As I get to the top of the hills I would have to keep the car in one place without rolling back, I would swear there was always someone behind me following. I think this was scarier than the Bull runs in St Kitts when I was a kid.

As a rule we would leave Toronto as early as possible. If the weather was fine we would make it by 1pm in the afternoon, 5 hours journey. One year, we had just purchased a nice big car. The car was big enough to separate the three babies in the back seat. J and D were mortal enemies, so we would place E between them. He was Cool Hand Luke, nothing would upset him.

That year after we packed the car with all the gifts and our clothes the night before and made the mistake of leaving the car on the driveway. As bad luck would have it, there was a party in our neighbourhood that night, some guy needed a ride home and borrowed our car.

At two in the morning the cops came to our house looking for me. The guy who took the car was drunk, when they tried to stop him, he bolted. They assumed it was me.

We lost all our toys and clothes. They recovered the car a few days later. We had to use the smaller car where the kids were scrunched together in the back seat.

Brutal trip that year.

D. ‘Are we there yet?’

J. ‘ I need to go to the bathroom’

D. ‘I am hungry’

J. ‘ D won’t stop looking at me’

J. ‘I’m itchy’

E. Shut up I want to sleep.

Questions and complaints would start within 20 minutes of leaving the house; we would still be in Scarborough.

The kids loved Christmas in Quebec. Lots of snow activities with lots of family and a real Santa Claus came to the house. I found out years later it was my brother in law, no harm done.

Six years ago we moved to Calgary, we had to make some new traditions. Luckily we have the kids and a son in law and the boys’ girl friend. This year the boys are single I think, less gifts to purchase (that was last year).

Jo and I support many charities.

The big question is, will I still be enjoying the music in a week and after all it started early this year. I think there is an annual shelf life after which the music becomes hard to listen to. Only time will tell.

The only Kittitian couch potato is Calgary.

Happy Holidays and remember to do something nice for someone.

Things to Support:

St Kitts Authors:

Buy a book for christmas

https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/SKNA-Book-Club/170763996296529

My man Cris

http://www.vibesfm.com/

And a local charity of your choice.

 

Share