Joseph Schneider Haus

"Dad... I wouldn't mind living like that for a couple of hours - just for fun. But I wouldn't want to live like that forever. No video games."

Howdy boys & girls - yer old pal Scrubbie here.

So - ya'll recall t'other day, the wife and Scrub packed up the kid and his punk pal, (who, by the way is also Hurricane's eldest) and we all went out for an afternoon adventure.

Well - here's a couple 'a pics from that day.

Ya know... as an old fart, Scrub'd like to think that takin a little time to drag the brats to somethin like this would offer up a different perspective on things. Give them insight. Teach them somethin new. They'd walk away with a deep appreciation for all they have today - all them modern conveniences and luxuries. Then, later at home, they'd come to their parents and say things like "Good morning Mother. After I am done my chores this morning, may I help father outside?" or "Father - I was thinking that I am very grateful for everything you and mother do for me. Gosh darn it - I am a lucky boy."

Huh? What's that? Why... yes, I do smoke crack. Why do you ask?

Get Ready. You Won't Believe Your Eyes.

We don't go looking. Honestly.

Greetings Scrubs. Yer good friend Scrubbie here sucking up bandwidth on the 'ol interweb.

See... the thing is... it's not like we go looking for it. By "it" - I mean freaky people. As a whole. We don't go looking for them.

They are just there.

There's been a few in Scrub's life.

The Bro-In-Law, JR - ya'll remember him, right? Dashingly good looking, golf fiend, daddy and hubby, medicated. Yep - him. JR - he pointed out, just the other day, that there does seem to be a preponderance of peeps that pop up like gophers every now and then around Scrub.

Examples can be found in - oh... Naked Guy at the gym. Who, as you recall, likes to be all free-willy when asking about Thanksgiving dinners and weekend plans with total strangers. And then there is Duct Tape Trunk Guy - oh, Scrub doesn't like that Duct Tape Trunk Guy. And what about Creepy Photo Guy with the telephoto lens at the beach just last weekend? They're out there. Ya just gotta open yer eyes. They're out there.

Well - brace yourselves kids. Allow me to introduce you to BBB.

See - The wife and me took the kid and Hurricane's eldest D out t'other day for an afternoon adventure.

To kick things off - we grabbed ourselves some sammies (or sandwiches) (or sang-widges if you are our good friend Hurricane) (who also cant say the word ambulance - it comes out "ambleeance") (which - by the way - is hysterical) (even more hysterical if you've been dippin into the Crown Royal).

So - we grabbed our sammies and fired up the go-kart and took off to a local park. Beautiful park. Right in the heart of the city. Love it there.

And, we plunked ourselves down to enjoy our sammies. In front of us there - in the field - was a group of fellas enjoyin an afternoon Cricket match. So far so good. Loving fam, sammies, diet Coke, Cricket, sunshine, warm beautiful day, green grass - yep - so far so good.

So - while we're enjoyin our sammies - the Cricket match hits the half way mark and the fellas step off to enjoy a bit of down time.

Then... BBB.

BBB - we see him in the distance.

The wife - first to notice. "What is THAT" she says.

Scrub turns - "What the hell?" Scrub says.

The kid and D - equally gobsmacked.

I think it's great - gettin out to enjoy the nice weather.

After all - here in the Great White - there are a whole buncha months where we are locked up tight in our igloos for fear of turnin into Canuck-sicles in the freezing cold.

But...

C'mon.

Seriously?

Just out there - throwing a baseball from one side of the field to t'other.

Then running after it. Kinda like we do with the lunatic dog.

But - WITH THE LUNATIC DOG.

Yes kids. BBB.

Oh - and BBB - short for Burgundy Boxer Briefs.

You probably figured that out by now.

Now - go and enjoy your coffee.

"Why, Scrubbie? Why?"

There's just no two ways about it. Boys - they are predictable, consistent, and damn'd right funny.

Howdy Scrublings - yer ol pal Scrub here on a fine Tuesday morning.

Boys. Gawd love 'em. Scrub's glad he had a boy. Sure - girls are fine. Lovely little creatures. Until they hit ... oh.... about age 8. But - ya see... bein' a fella... I understand fellas. I get 'em. Nothin's a surprise. And,

frankly - Scrub likes it that way.

Take, for example, the modern toilet and all that goes with it. Boys - well... they'll see the humour in - well, in - in everything. Thomas Crapper. One of the persons who may have invented the good ol flush toilet. Crapper. I mean - c'mon... if that don't give ya a chuckle.

There's also somethin about the freedom of it all. Ya know - bein able to just whip it out and make use of a tree. Probably so that our forefathers - when gruntin' and huntin' was pretty much the order of the day 24/7 - could easily let'ter rip and get back to gruntin' and huntin' quick.

And, despite the blech-ness of it all - ya know... toilet stuff... human waste... eeewwww.... we done a darn'd good job of makin the experience as good as it can be.

Fancy schmancy facilities. Raised potty seats to make goin' easy. Heck - I hear that even some folk have rooms INSIDE their igloos and shacks where they can make pee-pee!

One of them thar modern conveniences can be seen as a roll of paper. Bathroom tissue. Bum wad. Turlet paper. Whatever you like to call it - it's the same. Variations in quality and such. For example - if Scrub is unrestrained in his frugal ways - he comes home with a perfectly good product. Does the job. After all... look what yer using it for!

But, if the wife threatens Scrub with... ummm... lets say his life.... then he comes home with somethin more akin to smooth silk that has been handspun by magical elves who can only be found in the far reaches of the Himalayan mountains.

Anyway - where was I? Oh ya - boys. So... when it comes to topics such as the bathroom, washroom, Loo, privy, john, outhouse - whatever... there is always high interest.

And, the kid and his punk pals are no different.

Yesterday, for example, the wife and Scrub took the kid and Hurricane's eldest D out for a wee soujourn. A little backstory:

The wife - well, her fam has roots goin back to Pennsylvania Dutch Mennonites. Seriously. As it turns out - if one of her great great great (and so forth) grandpappies didn't think to himself: "Hmmm... lets try this Lutheran religion thing... see what it's all about" - then the wife would be wearin' her bonnett and a lovely wee frock and apron and warshin' up Scrub's workin-in-the-fields clothes by hand rather than scrapbookin and eatin sushi on a Friday night.

And, right here in Scrub's hometown is where the wife's fam decided to settle down and call home a hundred years ago. So - there's evidence of that history all around. Honest - it's pretty kewl.

Ok - back to the sojourn yesterday. So - Scrub and the wife, the kid and D - all crammed in to the go-kart and we took off to visit some history. Went to Joseph Schneider Haus in Kitchener, Ontario. Go ahead - google it. I'll wait.

Oh goodie - you're back. So - there ya go. Joseph Schneider Haus. And while there - there was just a whackload of stuff that we got to see. Life back then. Yep - little different. Well - not so different really. Kitchen. Bedrooms. Places to wash up. Yard to play in. Oh - and a Loo.

And - as we had boys with us on the visit - the lav facilities were of high interest.

See - all makin' sense now.

What was of particular interest to our young, strappin testosterones was the fact that the human biological waste disposal facility was a two seater. No kiddin. Two holes to plunk yer butts over - side by side. "Why, Scrubbie..." they asked. "Why are there two holes to plunk yer butts over side by side? Why?"

Scrub told them that back in those days - it's all family.

And then - there was a basket 'tween the holes. Filled with corn cobs.

"Why, Scrubbie..." they asked. "Why is there a basket 'tween the holes filled with corn cobs? Why?"

"Why do you think" replied Scrubbie - in his best efforts to be a role model Scrub and allow the youngsters to self-discover through analytical processing.

"Cause they might want a snack?" suggested the youngsters.

"Nope" says Scrubbie. "Try again."

"To wipe - *gulp - their butts?" giggled the youngsters.

"Correct."

Yep - and that's the thought I'll leave ya with for today.

A Little Help Please

It's mid morning in the Great White. And Scrub needs a little help.

Morning Boys & Girls. Scrub here again.

So, last evening, the kid, Hurricane's eldest, D and the kid's punk pal Bobby all crashed at the Scrub Shack.

Here, they are scarfing down a manly breakfast of sausage, eggs, toast, yogurt, orange juice - ya know.

The wife - upstairs. Dollin' herself up.

Here's the situation: Today is a holiday 'round here. Makes for a nice long weekend in the middle of the summer season. Nice eh?

So - in keeping with a holiday and long weekend... there are a host of things that could happen.

The wife - something heritage-ish. There's an Ice Cream Festival in a local burb. People dressed in old world clothing. Lots of demos and displays of life in the 30's. Vendors (of course). And, Ice Cream. Prepared in the old fashioned way. And flavoured not with the trappings and tastes of Y2K. But, rather, with hints of flora found here and there. Personally - sounds like a peachey idea.

The kid and his punk brat pals - ummmm... not so much. They are requesting an afternoon at the local fun park. When asked why they want to go there so much rather than spending some quality time with the folks - the response, from these three teenage, hormonal, voice cracky boys was a resounding: "Scrub - ummmm... Dandylion ice cream or girls swimming... let me think".

Please bow your head in prayer with me.

God - Your old pal Scrubbie here. God - give me the strength to deal with teenage boys and their mothers. Enough said. Thanks God. You 'da man.

Ok - Scrub's back.

Thanks folks. 'Preciate your thoughts and best wishes.

Smile and Say Cheese.

Smile. You're on Candid Camera.

Whassup kids? Uncle Scrub at the keyboard here.

Gotta tell ya - oodles of fun. The beach. That's where we were.

The wife and me packed up the kid and Hurricane's two punks, D and H2, and made our way to a local swimmin' pond to enjoy a day of picnic'in and swimmin'. It was grand.

Now - bein a Canuck, as ya'll have come to learn - we red and whites talk about a select few things. Tim Horton's - their closest location and what to order. And, the weather.

So - we grabbed out Timmies and took full advantage of what seemed to be one of the few full out, sunshine blazin', not having to wear the woolie underthings, summer-type days goin' on 'round these parts of late.

Oh - boys and girls - Scrub doesn't mean to make ya jealous or nothin - but it was buckets of fun.

Scrub filled the picnic basket full of goodies. The wife gathered towels and sunscreen. The brats were well sugared and ready for a good time.

About D and H2: it is pretty much bred into our offspring that their primary mission in their young lives is to bug the hell out of each other. With constant pokes, jabs, drool (yes, drool) and more - their isn't a 5 min span where one isn't givin the other the business. These two - no different.

A note to parents: I often find a cattle prod an effective tool. You don't even need to use full voltage. They are kids after all. No - a couple of medium intensity shocks with the prod work wonders. Try it.

So - at the beach - good times all around.

But... there was this dude. Nice enough lookin. Sittin quiety by himself under a tree close to the wife and me. Had this camera with one of them thar lenses that was long enough to see the warts on a frogs arse a million miles away. Ya - one of them. Anyway... dude caught our eye. Well - specifically, the wife's eye.

Mother's instinct. Ya know what I mean.

So - dude was snappin a few pics. Then, would put his camera down. Beside him. Then snap a few more pics. Then, put his camera down beside him.

Harmless enough.

But - it was the WAY he was doin all this. Kinda sneaky like. Specially when other folk would saunter by his tree. Camera... kinda put down as if to hide it.

Then there was the fact that he didn't seem to be aiming his point and shoot across the pond to capture the wonderful foliage or whatever.

No - it seemed, from an onlookers point of view, that he was snappin pics of - well, I don't know.

I doubt it was the warts on a frog's arse a million miles away.

And, he was solo. No family or friends comin' up to splash water on him. Or giggle at the jiggle of some of the beach folk. Nope. Alone. Sole. One. Just him. With a camera. And a lens.

Add to all of this - he was just kind creepy lookin. Know what I mean?

Mostly though - the wife and her mother's intuition... just somethin not right there.

The wife - alerted Scrub. The protector. The provider. The MAN.

So - Scrub swallered the last bit of cookie he was enjoyin. Took a swig of his bottled water. Dusted off his hands for what was to follow. And, got up outa his chair.

Chest out. Shoulders back. Fists - clenched and ready to go.

I tell ya - the testosterone was pumpin. Could feel it! It was EXHILERATING.

This, my friends and readers, is what we boys LIVE for.

So, Scrub, now up outa his chair, begins to march. Aggressively. Purposefully. So that all those who see him or stand in his way know, without even a single word spoken, that this dude means business.

And, Scrub promptly finds the closest 16 year old beach attendant chickeyboo and says "that man is scaring us."

Grin.

Nah. Seriously - just got security and advised them of the deal. Creepy dude - gone in 5 mins.

So - the kidlings, the wife and me - we beached. we picnic'd. we played. we went home.

Yep - Scrub loves them summer days.