Hello everyone, everywhere,

This has been the busiest week I have ever spent trying to rest. My fibromyalgia  attacked me so badly these last few days that, as angry as I get to fight it, I felt I was losing the battle. But now, as always, I’m winning out. My back is swollen on one side but I am getting better every day. I’m happy, so be happy for me. Enough of that.

The band, Soulful Noize, is moving forward. We’ve started writing more originals, and hopefully soon we’re going to try to record something. We just haven’t figured out how we’re going to do it yet. Lots of money would help.

The weather here, (well in Alberta, I’m sorry about you guys out east), man we usually get it bad every day for about six months, so this is nice. A bit of a break. Of course it’s damp as hell so my fingers are swollen like tree logs, which makes snapping my fingers to a tune almost impossible right now. But I keep the tune in my head and when my hands are ready we’ll get to it. That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. Until we meet again at Henry and Wilma Juggins Home of Pick Your Own Used Car Parts and Antique Vases Emporium, situated in the Juggins luxurious backyard garage. The motto is “Grab a fender, grab a vase”.  It’s just up the corner from Gladys Spriggs’ Embroidery and Spy School. You’ll find them at the the corner of Route 70 and Last Gasp Boulevard.


Party hat

Norm Splinter is turning 45 today. He’s not so happy about this birthday. Come on along. You’ll see.

Well, to spell it out, Norm stutters. To ask Norm though, he’d say it was his tongue having trouble letting go of the words. Then he laughs at himself. He loves his h-h-h-h-h-humour.

His parents are coming to dinner: Fran and Jerome Splinter. They always bring people with them. Norman thinks his parents want somebody there to justify their great deeds. There’s Aunt Velma, and of course the twins, Cecil and Bernice (they’re lovely), and Norman’s uncle Percy Zappo.  That about rounds it off.

Luckily this visit will last only  an hour or so. Norman’s parents play canasta at 7 p.m. sharp. (Won’t be late, Norm’s dad Jerome).
Every Wednesday the same line. Five p.m.. Clockwork precision on that one, Norman. Well done.

Doorbell rings and poor Norman is sweating already. Door opens. In come the herd. (You know that’s short for family, well at least Norman Splinter’s family).

Norman says hi as easy as peasy. But that wasn’t flying with this crazy bunch. In unison, they all looked at Norman like he just won money or something. And then it came. “Did you all hear Norman say hi?” Now as most people who stutter now, it happens when they are either excited or freaking. Norman is freaking.

And here’s the Zappo twins, aged 10 going on 50 already. Same thing. “Uncle Norman, it’s your birthday, so say something p-p-p-p-p-p-please.” Then they always backed that up with, “S-S-S-S-S-Sorrry Uncle N-N-N-N-Norman. I told you they were lovely.

Norman’s parents started singing happy birthday to Norman. Nice, yes? No, I wouldn’t think so.

“Sing with us, Norman,” says his mother, as she’s pulling his face. I think to make words come out better.

And it wouldn’t be a birthday without Norman Splinter’s dad spouting out, “It’s your birthday young man, ha ha, tell everyone what you did all day.”

So Norman started with the morning. And then what he did to amuse himself later. Norman would start every sentence with his dad snapping his fingers. “Get on with it Norm!” he always said. He liked to remind Norman what a patient man he was.

So anyway, Norm would start, as I said, and everyone would finish the sentence. They thought they were helping, Norm guesses. His family surmised that the must need help. His dad confronted this issue like all good dads. and figures that there must be something wrong with him.

Six-thirty p.m. Time for the family to get on their way. Norman looked at all of them and…waved. (Safer all around he thought).

So ended Norman Splinter’s 45th birthday. As he went to rest for a while, Norman laughed to himself and thought, I should be miffed. But these people are a flippin’ riot.

Maybe it wasn’t Norman’s worst day, but he had a good laugh! Happy birthday Norman Splinter. That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson

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