The Brussels Post, 1977-02-23, Page 9
NI 0 R E
Portable Automatic
Dishwasher
Model KDP 2480
Automatic Cycles
Power Scour Pots !n Pans
Sani Power Scour
Regular Wash
Sani Regular Wash
Short Wash
Sani Short Wash
Gentle Wash
Rinse & Hold
Rinse & Dry
5 YEAR
WARRANTY
ON POWER MODULE
In addition to one year
parts warranty on com-
plete dishwasher, we will
supply a complete power
module (motor, pumps,
housing) excluding labor,
in event of manufacturing
defect, for an additional'
four years.
$495 Plate Warmer
ONLY
All are delivered pricea No charge fOr color
Merwood C. Srnith, Ltd
..s rmm id, am ,and p..I kr., ii 3
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M. C.
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RR 2
Listewel, Ontario
tel. 291'3810
Store. Hours:
Open daily Monday OM, Friday
0 a.m. to 5 p.M.; Saturdays
till 5
When in BRUSSELS Stop in, at the
TEXAN GRILL & GAS BAR
SEE The Bantam Playoff Game
Friday Feb. 25 at the arena
SUPPORT YOUR TEAM 1
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Y9ur Hosts June & Ken Webster
Ronnenberg Insurance Agency
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PREPARED
Farmers -- Businessmen -- Individuals
— At Reasonable Rates —
File early10 avoid the Rush
E24 years Experience]
brussels, Office Open Tuesday & ..Peiday
Phone 88/4663
Monkton-. Office Open Monday theti Saturday
Phone 347-1241
Married 59 years S
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269
Sugar and Spice
by Bill Smiley
Oh Canada!
Mr. and Mrs.. Wes MPFACItPrIt
celebrated their . 59th wedding.
anniversary quietly at their home
on Saturday, 'Mrs.,'..McEacherb is
the former Minnie Menarey. The.
couple were married on February
19, 1.9.1£5, by the Rev. J. L.
McCullough, at the home of the
bride's parents, the late Robt and
Mrs. Menarey, 9th con. Grey
Township. They recall thunder,
lightning and heavy rain on that
day.
Mr. and Mrs. McEache Tn
are both active and are able to
look after their home here.
We have such a crazy climate in this
country that by the time this appears in
print some dingbat will have spotted the
first crocus peeping its dainty head
through the snow.
But right at the moment, any such crocus
would have to come from the garden of
King Kong,
This winter has been not a little unlike a
sort of arctic King Kong — a vast,
uncontrollable monster laughing with
fiendish glee,at the prospect of puny man
trying to cope with his wistling, frigid
breath, his frosty and fickle fingers, and
his exrtremely bad case of dandruff.
Around these parts we've had 13 to 15
feet of snow, depending on whom you are
conversing with. If you are talking to me,
you'll learn that we've had 18 feet. My
wife would say: "About twelve and half
feet," in that sickening,righteous tone of
hers that hai'made me hurl the hatchet and
the butcher knife deep in the 16 feet of
snow right behind the kitchen door, to
avoid temp tation.
Th ough we have a pretty good running
parry-and-thrust on everything from pea
soup to politics, from golf to garbage, we
just don't fight about the weather, Until
this winter. Now it's hammer and tongs
almost every day. And I seem to have
wound up with the tongs.
I stagger out through the blizzard every
morning, brush the , snow off the car,
scrape the ice off the windshield with my
fingernails because she has lost the
scraper, and sit there freezing my poorly
padded burn for 10 minutes, warming the
beast up.
Then I bomb the vehicle out of the
driveway, risking my life every morning;
because I can't see anything coming, from
any direction. I park it on the street.
On the odd occasion when she decides to
shop, she minces out to the car, heavily
garbed, climbs into a warm wagon, parks
behind the supermarket and walks 40 feet
to the door. Every time she goes out, it has
stopped snowing for one hour, the wind
has dropped for one hour, and the sun
gleams palely for one hour.
She leaves the car out on the street when
she comes home. I clean it off again, buck
it through a drift into the driveway, climb
through more snow that goes in over my
boots, and totter, breathless and forlorn,
into the house.
"Why do you make such a fuss?" she
queries. "It's been a beautiful winter
day."
I don't mind her scoffing at my golf
game, being able to ski twice as fast and
far as I, this winter she's gone too far. One
of us has to break: either the weather, or
me.
She won't be so dam' smart when she
luevale
owling
Cores
en's High , Triple - Aart de
, 708; Ladies' High triple -
y 11/lathers, 542; Men's High
e - Wendell Stamper, 330;
les' High single - Agnes
snoot 244; Games over 200 -
n Mundell 208; Altria Pitcher
Ken Pellett 210; Murray
son 200, 229; Gordon
Snoot, 204; Dick de Boer 222;
de Vos 260, 205, 243; Ted
ith 216, 229; Audtey,Johnston
; Wendell Stampet 339; Agnes
Stioot 244; Reno McMichael
Joe Craig 218, 206, Cecil
rke, 248.
wakes up on the first day of the March
break and finds a note pinned to her pillow:
"Off to the Canary Isles for 10 days. Hear
they're loaded with Scandinavian girls in
bikinis or (gasp!) topless, Why don't you
go and visit Grandad for a week or so.
Love. Fahrenheit Bill."
She's a Celsius and it drives me nuts.
But it's not only my wife who has
helped, with the aid of this atrocious
winter, to depress me. It's the cost.
This is rough reckoning, but close
enough. From last November the first, it
has cost me , approximately: $420. for fuel
oil; $120 for driveway plowing; $50 for the
kid next door, snow-shovelling; $60 for
battery boosts, tow trucks and other winter
items for cars. That, my friends, is 650
bucks for the privilege of spending the
winter in the true north, strong and
freezing. Oh, Canada!
You can well say that I didn't need to
spend all that. Well, I dang well did. I
could have saved a bit on the oil bill by
burning the furniture. And I could have
saved a bit on the plowing and shovelling if
I had been able to quit my job and shovel
about four hours a day. But it seems rather
a peculiar way to save money. And of
course, by now I'd be dead of a heart
attack, so where's the percentage?
Tell me, some of my friends who go
south every winter. Does it cost more to eat
down there? Less, you say. Does it cost
more to drive a car down there? Less, you
say. Does it cost more for accommodation?
Less, you say, and you add that it can cost
$52 for an ordinary double room in
Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver.
But don't you get sick of all that fresh
orange juice, and those crispy salads twice
a day? No, you say.
Don't you feel you are deserting the
ship, somewhat, when your country needs
you, when it is the duty of every man and
woman to put his and/or her shoulder to
the car that's stuck in the drift? No, y ou
say.
Have you no thought, no slightest
sympathy, for the pensioner who tries to
peer through his frosted windows, who is
scared to venture forth because he might
bust his back in a foOt-skid, or freeze into a
statue on his way to the liquor store?
Definitely not, you say.
O.K. O.K. I haven't figured it out yet,
but I:11 devise some way of some day
getting even with all you rotten rich who
are loafing around in the sun while I battle
with the Old Battleaxe about the windchill
factor.
In the meantime, It's the least you could
do, somebody, anybody, to ask me down
for a long weekend. From about the
fifteenth of February to the Ides of March
would be just right.
THE BRUSSELS POSTi FEBRUARY 21i. 1-97/