An indoor Christmas display

I have neighbours who live up my street, very nice people, but they do something every year that drives me nuts. They put up their Christmas tree and all their outdoor Christmas lights on Nov. 1. They still have their Halloween pumpkins sitting on their front step but it's Christmastime everywhere else.

I know I should live and let live, but seeing all that joyful cheeriness on Nov. 1 just makes me angry. For me, the spirit of the holidays should not start until after Remembrance Day. Wait until after American Thanksgiving and then go to town with the Christmas lights.

This year my house is dark. That's right, I'm pulling a Grinch and my youngest daughter is not happy about it. A couple of weeks ago I tested our outdoor lights and all but three of them were either broken or burned out.

"Screw it, I'm not buying any more," I said out loud to nobody but myself because I was inside the garage while my son hammered on his drum set in the house. Yes, we're that family, the Twisted Sister of our neighbourhood!

But what to do? You can't say no to an adorable 9-year-old with the biggest, bluest eyes you've ever seen.

Compromise, that's what I did. I told Bronwyn I would put up indoor lights this year. That way I didn't have to fall off the roof again trying to do my best Chevy Chase routine in Christmas Vacation. For a peak of that clip see the YouTube video above. You can also read about my experience falling off the roof at this link: Click here

So this weekend I'm going to buy some indoor Christmas lights and wrap them around our front windows. I'll be safe and warm putting them up, or at least that's the plan.

I even told Bronwyn I'd string some Christmas lights around her bedroom window. That sealed the deal!

For those of you who brave the cold and who are not afraid of heights, I salute you for putting up your outdoor Christmas lights. You brighten my evening walks.

But inside is where it's at for me this year. Merry Christmas!

With one pitch I got old

The Oshawa Legionaire Pee Wee Select team on the bench. No. 77 is my son, Tavish.

Most days you go through life living today just as you did yesterday and the day before. Some of them are good days, others are bad. You don’t often think that combing the number of days you’ve lived could only lead to one conclusion — you’re getting older.

But you’re not getting older, you’re getting better, right? 

Like most of you I rarely think about my age (except on birthdays) because inside I’m still young at heart. Then something happens that changes how you view yourself. For me that day came last week.

Major League pitchers report to camp in the next few weeks. That fact has not been lost on my son Tavish. He loves baseball, watching it and playing it. I’ve been told when the Detroit Tigers visit Toronto on the Aug. 28 weekend we’re going. I’d hate to disappoint him.

I took Tav to the Home Run Baseball Academy in Ajax. He got two baseball bats for Christmas and was anxious to try them out. I rented a lane at the indoor facility and off we went.

It felt good putting on the baseball glove once again and loosening up my throwing arm. Granted it took a bit longer getting used to pitching strikes but Tav was patient. It also helped we had access to a pitching machine to spell me off!

Tav hit pitches for about 40 minutes before he asked to take a break. He was making solid contact with most of my pitches but after swinging the bat for the better part of an hour it was time to put it down and play some catch.

That’s when it happened. With one throw I got OLD.

Last summer I was still a head taller than my son. Tav only came to my shoulder. Theoretically that made me bigger and stronger but even then I knew the day was coming when my son would surpass my staggering height of 5’7”! Today he looks me straight in the eye. He wears a larger shoe than I do. I carry more weight on my frame but other than that we’re the same size.

Another difference we share is our throwing speeds. Tav is officially . . . faster. In fact he throws faster than I think I even did when I was his age!

We were throwing the ball back and forth when I said to him, “Okay, throw me a good one.”

Tav let it fly and as I put my glove up to catch it the ball hit the screen behind me.

“What was that?” he asked sarcastically.

I would have loved to say “Lost it in the sun” but we were inside. Instead I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Inside I was thanking God Tav’s throw was to my left and not directly at me. Otherwise our game of catch would have ended horribly.

He threw a few more my way and they were coming in hard and straight. My hand was stinging from the impact. Tav threw hard last summer but these throws had even more velocity on them.

Or maybe they weren’t coming in as hard as I thought. Maybe, just maybe I missed that throw because my reaction time was S-L-O-W-I-N-G down. Maybe his throws were hurting my hand because I was getting soft? Maybe my glove needed replacing?

I’d like to think my boy is just getting bigger and stronger. I don’t want to think it has anything to do with my age.

You’re only as old as you feel, right? Right.

Tavish throws a pitch in a playoff game last summer against Prince Edward County.
Recorded the win!