JULIE'S COMING TO KITIMAT!

Philip's sister Julie is coming to Kitimat. Rumour has it she might stay. Needless to say we're very excited about the possibility (now instead of sending her money - I can just hand it to her!). Philip, of course, is beside himself. (What a silly expression...beside yourself...that would mean 2 of you! Can you imagine Philip beside himself? Arguing over the best team in the NHL? "Detroit's the best team in the league!" "You're wrong...it's Detroit!" "I'm having Special K for breakfast." "Not me, I'm having Special K!" "I'm going for a nap now." "Me too...I get the inside!" You think he drives us nuts now...wow...that would be insane!

As soon as Julie announced her intentions, Philip went into action. He headed down to the spare room, surveyed the layout, ran back to his room, tore 'his' sheet off of 'his' bed, ran back down to 'her' room...and proceeded to get 'her' bed ready. Now Diane keeps the spare bed in pristine condition...double-sheeted, floral duvet, pillows fluffed...and enough throw cushions to stem the rising flood waters of the Douglas Channel! "One just never knows!" she claims.

None of this matters to Philip. Julie's coming...must be ready! Takes his slept-in sheet and spreads it with great delight 'over' her bed...blanket, pillows, cushions, and all! Stands back - smiling from ear to ear - pride oozing from deep in his soul - and yells, "Mom, come and see this!" You know the expression, walk softly and carry a big stick? We do a lot of that here...only without the stick.

When Philip went to bed that night, he covered himself, as usual, in his own sheet (never noticed) and slept like a baby. So did I. Isn't life grand!

As an aside to the aforementioned, I too, as much as I hate it, make the bed these days (I also cook and clean, but why add insult to injury). Every morning after Diane heads off to work, I pour a second cup of coffee and head for the computer, desperate to put off the inevitable. Eventually though, coffee all cold and e-mails all read, I must face that dastardly deed.

I open the bedroom door...there it is...all crumpled up...strewn about...unkempt...a veritable vestige of better days! Now here's my thinking...and those of you 'seasoned seniors' married far too long (but blissfully so), will understand. If the bed is in complete disarray...messed and mushed beyond recognition...then I begin to suspect that perhaps a good time was had the previous night (at least by one of us) and I approach the 'scene of the crime', as Diane refers to it, with renewed vigor.

On the other hand, if the sheets, blankets, pillows, night-stand lamps, etc., are still relatively in place...then, even though my impending task is looking easier, I interpret the 'serene setting' before me as indicative of an obvious lack of activity. At best a 'mild misdemeanour'...as opposed to my personal preference..."midnight madness!"

Ahhhh....but I digress! I reluctantly complete my obligatory task, turn as I leave the room, wipe a lonely tear from my eye, gently close the door and skulk down the hall...to the broom closet. Time to sweep the floor, and perhaps dust a few things off! Isn't life grand?

Just when we thought the Scorekeeper had everything in the sports world covered, we are introduced to a brand new concept. "Where's the tape, dad?" he asks, as he bolts out of his room...blue binder in one hand - pencils in the other! "And I need a black marker, too!" "In that drawer there," I point. Puzzled, I hesitatingly ask, "What's up?" "Oh, you'll love it!" he replies. I'm committed now. A few minutes later he emerges, blue binder in hand... with the determination of a used car salesman trying to sell you that picturesque, vintage '99 Ford Taurus with the gleaming 'still new' exterior (which means it was pulled out of the river 2 weeks ago), the solid suspension, the low, low mileage, and the maintenance and performance record accurately detailed by a little old lady who only drove it on Sundays!

"You know I have binders and lists for..." and he rattles off a dozen or so sports related activities (who's listening...I'm watching CNN). "Well," he continues,"this binder is 'for home runs only'." Well of course it is, I muse. And tomorrow we'll start recording for triples only, and then for doubles only! "Hey Philip, have you considered for singles only?" (wait a minute...isn't that Lavalife?). "And by the way, Philip, the next time I make the bed, I'll let you know if there's another home run you need to record! (one can dream, you know!)

Diane and I often worry about Philip's future. I believe I've figured it out. When Don Cherry moves on to that 'great ice rink in the sky', I'm buying Philip a bunch of colourful, high-collared shirts, a dozen obnoxious ties, and a couple of salacious psychedelic sports coats and calling the CBC. Hockey Night in Canada will never be the same!

Ron MacLean and the Scorekeeper, who'da thunk it, eh?

GO HAWKS GO!