Larry Gibbons
  • About
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Reviews

Shackwacky - Chapter and Verse

31/3/2015

0 Comments

 
I’ve just finished reading a science fiction detective novel by Sherry D. Ramsey. That’s a lot to say in one breath. The book is called ‘The Murder Prophet’. Now, it was a novel that made me look forward to going to bed. Because that’s when I read novels. The book, in a few sentences, is about Kit, the main character, who’s trying to solve a mystery before a millionaire named Aleshu Coro is murdered. The threat was made by the mysterious Murder Prophet.
Picture
Many of the characters in this book, including the animals, have super powers. Power to tell whether somebody is lying. Power to tell if somebody is using their powers. Power to change a person from one thing to another, including themselves. Anyway, lots of different powers. I particularly enjoyed a delightful side character, a goose by the name of Trip, who had a very special power. The goose liked to practice killer ninja moves, could talk and was active throughout the novel.

Anyway, I enjoyed the book. It was a good read and can be ordered through Amazon.ca as a Kindle or paperback edition at 
http://www.amazon.ca/The-Murder-Prophet-Sherry-Ramsey/dp/0993897304/ref=tmm_pap_title_0   


***
My god, but haven’t we had enough snow? For what we are once again about to receive we are truly thankful, amen. NOW GO AWAY! Enough is enough, and as I’m writing this blog, in the living room, with Buster lying on my foot, and at the end of March, I’ve just heard that we are to receive another ten to fifteen cm today. Hallelujah!

                “One must have the mind of winter
                              To regard the frost and the boughs
                              Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

                              And have been cold a long time
                              To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
                              The spruces rough in the distant glitter”
                                                        Wallace Stevens, The Snowman
snowy woods
Our Trail to Road
***
WARNING!! THIS PART OF THE BLESSED BLOG WAS INSPIRED BY A SEVERE CASE OF ACUTE SHACK-WACKINESS!
And I did go to bed one night. And I had a dream. I dreamed that I bought a )(*&^ snow blower. And thus I woke up and declared, “Lo and behold, I’ve just had another friggen nightmare.”

But I did go out and purchase a snow blower, anyway. Although my mind was shouting at the top of its voice, “Larry, Larry, my son, verily, verily, you will be verily, verily sorry and will surely repent of your stupid deed in buying a cursed snow blower when you were warned against such a stupid action. Thou faithless servant.”

And verily, and thus and therefore, I discovereth, over a short time, that my dream was true. Because verily one friggen wintry morning, I couldn’t get the friggen snow blower to move. I did pull and push all the sacred buttons and levers, but it would not budge. The wheels desisted and resisted and so I had to pull the son of a blower through the deep snow, to the fair entrance to our driveway, where I left it for the snow blower purveyor to pick up and take to his holy little motor workshop.

And lo and behold and verily, thus and therefore, he phoned me and told me that my snow blower, Grinder, had frozen his bolts off and that’s why Grinder wouldn’t move. So, they got him all nicely warmed up around their pellet stove and gave him a cup of hot W30 oil and cinnamon. Then they delivered him back to our abode.

And lo and behold and verily, thus and therefore, the snow blower did blow snow for a few very brief occasions, until the snow got too heavy or icy or wet or white or some damn snowy issue, when lo and behold, hark the herald snow blower angel asked me, “Did you know that your snow blower has stopped blowing?” And how would I not? And I said to god, “Why, god?” And I asked the same question of the snow blower man, “Why, snow blower man?” and he said, “Hark, I think you probably broke a belt.”

Picture
So, verily and thus and therefore, he came to our snow-stuffed lane and picked up Grinder and did take him away, while I stood in six feet of snow and waved my frozen glove and fingers bye-bye at my disappearing snow blower. Then did I thus whisper under my breath, “And don’t come back, you unreliable son of a beech.”

But verily and thus and therefore, they couldn’t find a replacement belt. Not until the snow was ice and too much for poor Grinder to remove. So, verily, thus and thou and hark, when they finally did find a belt, verily many weeks later, and they put the belt in and delivered it to me, the snow was unmanageable and so verily, I did dig out our little, blessed, metal toolshed and put the snow blower in said toolshed so it could hibernate in the summer. And I told the snow blower not to move a bolt, nut or screw or it would be turned into a pillar of salt. 

The next winter, I verily, thus and therefore, took the snow blower out to prepare him for some certain upcoming manly snow blowing. But verily, I smelled the odour of gasoline and the snow blower would not verily start.

So, verily, thus and thou, I picked up my feet and took up my phone. Phoned the snow blower purveyor. And lo and behold he came and he picked Grinder up and then verily in not a verily long time he told me that some cursed mice had built a forty-room condo in Grinder. They had built a restraining wall against the gas line and thus it had broken asunder. And lo and behold, thus and thou, I ordered him to hand them their notices and then fix the gas line.


Oh snow blower, you break my heart. How many ways do you verily have thus? And the tiny little snow flakes fell, each one a different shape from its brethren, and I got out my snow blower and did blow and blow for about an hour when suddenly the snow blower wouldn’t move forward on command. So I verily, thus and therefore investigated and behold! I found out I had broken a breach pin. Which meant that only half the sacred augers were going round and round. So that was why I was rolling up a gigantic snowball on one side of the snow blower while the other side was not valiantly blowing away. So, I went again to the snow blower man and I bought another breach pin and installeth it myself.

The snows continued to fall and the world grew all white and my eyes began to see strange colours from the all white, everywhere, top and bottom and side by side and the ice came and the ice left and Grinder and I did manage to make it through the rest of the winter. Hallelujah!

And verily, thou and thus came the winter of 2014-2015 did arrive. And the snow felleth and felleth and felleth and felleth and felleth and felleth and it did raineth too and raineth more and more and the ice got thicker and the snow higher and verily I got to use the snow blower twice before it stopped.


I verily, thou and thus, decided to check it out myself. I very carefully read the manual. I worked on the snow blower only long enough to feel I had accomplished something or learned something and then I would verily quit before I went into a crying tantrum. Because verily, verily, I have little patience with disobedient servants.

And, after cautiously working on the said Grinder, I managed to find the problem. The belt was rent asunder. And I verily spotted little mice feet and mice faces and mice other parts sticking out of the holy inner sanctum where the belts do their business. And I, by myself, did replace the belt.
Deep snow
Path from Woodshed to Trailer
Then more snow did fall. Then some of it melted and froze and melted and froze and I got, maybe, three snow blows out of my snow blower and my new belt that I put in all by myself. Although, Sue did hold the snow blower and did use a tiny pair of pliers to pick out the tiny pieces of mice I missed and some of their bits and pieces of nesting material.

Then, one fine morning, I went to the woodshed and tried to start Grinder. But he wouldn’t start and lo, I pulled and pulled and pulled until my puller was exhausted.

Lo, I took a rest and then returneth and pulleth some more. And suddenly the engine did start in a violent rush of engine power. And then all was silent.

It was then that I witnessed, in a vision, a burning snow blower. And I took off my tuque and came forth and lost the race. (Probably heard that one somewhere, right?)

And verily, thou, thus and disgustingly, the engine man phoned me and told me that my engine was as dead as a frozen parrot. He said, “You must have got some ice or snow in the engine that melted and then froze.”

“But it’s a snow blower! Isn’t it supposed to get snow and ice on it and in it, fgs? My truck and Sue’s car get ice and snow on them and they don’t blow up their engines. My lawn mower     doesn’t desist because it gets grass in it. So, what the hell are you saying?”

“Well, let me put it this way. There were a lot of parts that wanted out.”

He then explained that when or if I get a new motor, I should probably keep it covered or inside. And maybe brush the snow off, because it can melt and run down into the engine and then freeze. Then you get the results I got.

I’d like to put it this way, if I verily may, “What the hell is the use of a snow blower if you have to keep snow off it after you finish with it, set mousetraps inside, lay moth balls around all its internal and external organs, place a hot water bottle on it before you go to bed, make sure it’s tucked in on a bed that can pass military inspection, don’t push it too fast if the snow is thick, and make sure you don’t snow blow slush because it can freeze the wheels and the inner sanctums? That’s what I have Buster for.”

AMEN

We now use shovels and snowshoes and to hell with the snow blower.
Shovelling snow
Lots of Shovelling
***
“The light made the snowballs look yellow. Or at least I hoped that was the cause.”
             Gary D. Schmidt, The Wednesday Wars
dog on snowy porch
Buster on Watch Duty
0 Comments

Neighbourhood Watch

10/3/2015

0 Comments

 
For some reason, I feel blog thirty-five has some kind of significance. A finality of sorts. I’m just not sure what it might be.

A wandering friend of mine once gave me a blog warning. He said, “Be careful you don’t write yourself out.” I know writers who have stopped writing their blogs altogether, or cut back to the point where their blogs are almost non-existent. I wonder if one reason is because they wrote themselves out.

One thing for sure, we’re bombarded with words. Words, words, words. Often treating them as if they have almost no value.  So, with this little blog disclaimer, I plod on in the Land of Blog and present you with blog thirty-six. In which I try to write something interesting without depleting my creative urge.

In his book, ‘The World is Sound’, Joachim-Ernst Berendt included a quote from Sukie Colgrave discussing Confucious as follows: “...while words contain genuine meaning which reflect certain absolute truths in the universe, most people have lost contact with these truths and so use language to suit their own convenience. This led, he felt, to lax thinking, erroneous judgements, confused actions and finally to the wrong people acquiring access to political power.”  
***
Bible
And first up to bat is this. Last week, I finished reading the whole Bible from the front page to the back page and everything in between. I will admit, however, that I did occasionally skip a begat or two, but for the most part I read the Bible from Genesis to Revelations. And I read plenty that wasn’t preached about in my church. I also found verses that would back up almost any Christian denomination and I discovered ones that would make proselytizers turn red in the face.

It should be noted that I was brought up in a strict, Bible believing family. The Bible was the word of God, and it was the final word. And, even now, I receive greeting cards from family members with Bible verses included, no extra charge. I believe, yes, I believe, they are submitted to help me find the road that the sender is presently following.

“Wait up, you guys.”

“Well then, hurry up, Larry. We told you to pick up the Cole's Notes on the Bible. How many times have we told you this?”

Now they tell me they told me. But hey, I kept wanting to stop and inspect all the interesting sights and sounds along the side of the road.

“Hey, what about all those roads we keep passing? Where do they go?”

“Read chapter and verse, Larry. It’s all in the notes you don’t have. Ignore them, Larry. Stay on the main highway where it’s safe.”

Ah, let the folks toss away. They probably do it because they really care, but it can be a tad irritating from time to time. I have a feeling that most of the verse tossers have read lots of the Bible, but I bet you that very few have read it from the front page to the back. Maybe one reason is because they’re afraid they might see more than they want to see.


Picture
***
A few days ago, we went to Sydney. Our first stop was a used bookstore we frequent on the main street. It’s called, ED’S BOOKS AND MORE and it’s owned by this fella who, strangely enough, is called Ed. Ed loves books and misses nothing. I know this because of what happened last week.

We walked into his book store. Ed said, “Hi Larry, I have something to show you.”

I was impressed he’d remembered my name. He held a book in his hand. It looked like some kind of yearbook.

“I have a school yearbook here and I think you might be in it.”

I glanced at the book and then at him. I said, “It wouldn’t be me. I went to high school in Kingston, Ontario.”

He opened the book and showed me a picture. There I was. Dark short hair, thick black glasses, and looking like I was straight out of a Stephen King movie.  He had somehow got hold of a 1968 Loyalist High School yearbook. Boy, did he floor me! Ed then gave me the book as a gift.

So, as a gift back to him, I’ve mentioned his bookstore, and I’m mentioning his toll-free phone number, which is: 1-855-264-2665, his not toll-free phone number, which is: (902)564-2665 and his email address, which is: edsbooksandmore@eastlink.ca and his address, which is: 446 Charlotte Street, Sydney, NS. and a picture of Ed and his store. Oh, his store is also on facebook.
Picture
That night, I went through the book. Looked at all the class pictures. The memories rushed at me like a herd of radicalized terrorists.

Because, you see, nineteen-sixty-eight was the worst year of my life. Bar none. No death, divorce, firing, injury, bad relationship or life decision can or ever will compete with nineteen-sixty-eight. He is the winner. Hands down. The year of the big bottle of nerve medicine sitting on the kitchen table. The religious skirmishes breaking out like revivalistic measles.

Well, I have to admit, there were two female students amongst the class pictures who could have made that year a hell of a lot better. And, there was my grade one sweetheart. Yes, it started that early.

It was awfully nice of Ed to take the time to keep it for me. That’s Cape Breton for you.

***
A brief note.  Grinder, my snow blower, needs a new ticker. The motor is dead.

The mechanic made a funny comment, if you can find it comical when your almost brand new snow blower has a dead motor.  He said, “There were a whole lot of pieces in your motor that wanted out.”

I couldn’t have put it better myself. He should write a blog.

I have just dug out two pairs of snowshoes from our tool shed.
snow shovelling
My New Snow Blower
***
Picture
Let me see now. I think, with regard to Buster, that I left you with an image of Sue standing on the middle of an icy Gold Brook Road, with her telephone cord make-shift dog leash dangling in the air like an empty fishing line, while Buster hoofed it after a large snow plough monster.

But Buster is a Buster. No more appropriate name for him could be had and he makes us laugh a lot. Sue told me that Buster is the funniest dog she has ever owned. I think I have competition.

He also is a bit of a pain in the ass from time to time. For one thing he might be putting a bit of a strain on our relationship with the neighbours. They have a big dog and many cats. Their dog likes to wander down to our driveway and drop off unstamped, brown wrapped mail. He also likes to paint our hub caps and snow banks a peculiar yellow colour.

Yesterday, Buster spotted the big dog standing on the road, watching us return from our early morning pre-Buster’s-breakfast forced march.

Up to this point I had been able to keep Buster from heading down to the neighbour’s house. Not this time. Not with the big dog staring at us. So, Buster took off. I was worried that there might be a clash. But instead, the big dog ran to his porch. He then barked at Buster.

The neighbour came out and began to yell at Buster while she reeled her dog into the house.

While all this was going on, I was stupidly standing by my lonesome shouting, “Buster, come here!”

I was hollering at Buster, the neighbour woman was hollering at Buster and her dog was barking at Buster. Buster was oblivious. Totally.

But you know, I think all Buster wanted to do was play and sing and dance with the big German shepherd dog.

However, after the woman had got her dog into the house and then hollered at Buster some more, Buster finally did comply, like the good dog he is.  But, before he complied, he lifted his leg and whizzed on our neighbour’s porch railing. Then he came to me. But he came to me with the name Buster and a Buster he was.

All the way home I would periodically shout, “That was bad. Bad boy, Buster.”

Buster, who was now in no mood to dilly-dally, because he knew he had a well-earned breakfast waiting for him at the homestead, would, every time I rebuked him, turn around, and with furious growls, make play charges at me.

It went on like that until we got home. Then I told Sue the story of big, bad Buster while Sue prepared a nice breakfast for Buster. Who enjoyed his tasty breakfast.

Meanwhile, I searched our forty-five-foot trailer for my other slipper.

Buster is Buster.


Snowy Trees
Winter Beauty Along Our Path
0 Comments

    Recent Posts

    Archives

    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    January 2022
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013

    Categories

    All
    Aaron Schneider
    Abigail Thomas
    Aboriginal Culture
    Aldon Nowlan
    Alistair MacLeod
    Amos R. Wells
    Answering Machines
    Antigonish
    Antigonish Harbour
    Authors
    Autumn Beauty
    Baddeck
    Ballad Of Winky
    Bats
    Beer
    Bible Reading
    Bible Verses
    Bikes
    Bird Feeders
    Birds
    Black And Decker Tools
    Black Flies
    ‘Black Water’
    Blizzards
    Blogging
    Blue Jay
    Boarding Kennel
    Book Launch
    Book Review
    Books
    Brown Bat
    Building Bookshelves
    Bullfrog
    Buster
    Buster Wear
    Cabot Trail
    Cameras
    Canso Causeway
    Cape Breton
    Cape Breton Beauty
    Cape Breton Books
    Cape Breton Highlands
    Cape Breton Highlands National Park
    Cape Breton Music
    Cape Breton Trails
    Cats
    CBC Interview
    Cell Phones
    Chain Saw
    Chaos
    Charles Hanson Towne
    Chief Seattle
    Clarence Barrett
    Clear-cut Recovery
    Climate Change
    Coltsfoot
    Computer Frustrations
    Computer Jargon
    Confucious
    Consumers
    Cottage Activities
    Country Life
    Coyotes
    Creativity
    Crocs
    Crows
    C.S. Lewis
    Customer Service
    Cycling
    Dancing Goat Coffee Shop
    David Boyd
    David Woods
    Deer
    Denise Aucoin
    Dentist
    Dentists
    D.H. Thoreau
    Dog Food
    Dogs
    Dog Training
    Dog Walking
    Dog Whisperer
    Driving In Blizzards
    Druids
    Dry Rot
    Earwig
    Eastern Coyotes
    Economists
    Editor
    Editors
    ED’S BOOKS AND MORE
    E.J. Pratt
    Election ID
    Elpenor
    Enerson
    Evening Grosbeaks
    Exercise
    Extractions
    Ezra Pound
    Fall Colours
    Family Holiday
    Family Life
    Farley Mowat
    Field Mouse
    Finite Vs Infinite
    Firewood
    Fishing
    Flood Plain
    Floods
    Flower Gardens
    Flying Squirrel
    Fog
    Forest
    Fox
    Freddy The Pig
    Freedom
    Friends
    Friendship
    Frontenac Provincial Park Ontario
    Fundamentalists
    Fungus
    Gamay Wine
    Gazebo
    George Eliot
    George Horace Lorimer
    Glotheri
    Goats
    Gold Brook Road
    Goldfish
    Grandchildren
    Green Cove
    Grocery Shopping
    Grosbeaks
    Halifax
    Halloween
    Hawks
    High Junction Gymnastics
    Hiking
    Hiking Boots
    Hiking Trails
    Hildegarde Of Bingen
    Hints Of Winter
    Hornets
    Horses
    Houdini
    Human Capital
    Humes Falls Hike
    Hummingbirds
    Humour
    Huron-philosophy
    Hurricane-arthur
    Ingonish
    Inspiration
    Interviews
    Invasive Plants
    Inverness
    Inverness Trail
    James Joyce
    James Thurber
    Jealousy
    Jennifer Bain
    Jesus The Carpenter
    J.K. Rowling
    Joachim-Ernst Berendt
    John Martin
    John Muir
    John O'Donohue
    John Oxenham
    John Updike
    Joy Of Spring
    K-50 Pentax Camera
    Karen Shepard
    Kingston
    Knotty Pines Cottages
    Lake O' Law
    Language And Politics
    Larry Sez Again
    Lego Toys
    Lewis Carrol
    Life Cycles
    Lily Tuck
    Lion
    Literary Magazines
    Little Clear Lake
    "Local Hero"
    Lord Alfred Tennyson
    "Lord Of The Flies"
    Love
    Lynda Barry
    Mabou
    Mabou Shrine
    MacBook Pro
    Machines
    Magic Realism
    Margaree
    Margaree Forks
    Margaret Fuller
    Marion Bridge
    Marion Zimmer Bradley
    Maritime Mac
    Marketing
    Mary Tallmountain
    Merrill Markoe
    Mica Mountain
    Mice
    Microphones
    Middle River
    Middle River Wilderness
    Mike Youds
    Mi'kmaq
    Mini-homes
    Mobile Homes
    Moose
    Morris Mandel
    Mosquitoes
    Mother
    "Mother Canada"
    Mother Mary
    Moths
    Mountain Climbing
    Mountains
    Mouse
    Mouse Traps
    Muse
    Nature
    Neighbours
    No Great Mischief
    NS
    NS Library
    Ocean Waves
    Old Trailers
    Omnibus Bill
    ON
    Ontario
    Orwellian Language
    Oscar Wilde
    Panhandlers
    PeachTree Inn
    Pentax K50 Camera
    Perversion Of Language
    Pet Dog
    Pileated Woodpecker
    Pine Siskins
    Playing Poker
    Poems
    Poetry
    Political Power
    Port Hood
    Privy / Outhouse
    Profanity In Fiction
    Promoting Books
    Punctuation
    Purple Finches
    Qur'an
    Raven
    Red-wing Blackbirds
    Rejection
    Remembrance
    Renovations
    Reviews
    Rita Joe
    River Lessons
    Rivers
    Robert Frost
    Roethke
    Rules
    Salman Rusdie
    Satellite Dish
    Sharon Butala
    Sherry D. Ramsey
    Short Stories
    Short Story Anthologies
    Short Story Contests
    Short Story Tips
    Skiing
    Skyline Trail
    Skyway Trail
    Snow
    Snow And More Snow
    Snow Belt
    Snowblower
    Snow Blower
    Snowshoeing
    Snowshoes
    Social Media
    SPCA
    Speculative Fiction
    Spiders
    Spirituality
    Spring Peepers
    Squirrels
    Sri Chinmoy
    Stations Of The Cross
    Stephen King
    Storms
    Storytelling
    Stoves
    Stress
    Subjectivity
    Sukie Colgrave
    Summer Activities
    Sunday Breakfasts
    Susan Zettell
    Suzi Hubler
    Swarms Of Mosquitoes
    Sydney
    Sydney Cox
    Technology
    Texting
    "The Great Gatsby"
    "The Murder Prophet"
    Theodore Roethke
    The Saga Of The Renunciates
    “The Subtlety Of Land”
    Third Person Press
    Thoreau
    Titles
    Tolstoy
    Tomas Transtromer
    Toothaches
    Totalitarian Regimes
    Tradesmen
    Trailer
    Trail Guide
    Tree Planting
    Trucks
    Trump's Foreign Workers
    Truro Train Station
    T. S. Eliot
    T.S. Eliot
    Twitter
    Uisgeban Falls
    Used Bookstores
    Veterinary
    Victoria County
    Victoria Standard
    Vincent Scully
    Virtual World
    Vocabulary
    Wabi Sabi
    Wallace Stevens
    Walter Brookes
    Walter Whitman
    Walt Whitman
    War Memorials
    Warren Lake Cape Breton
    W.H. Auden
    "White Eyes"
    Wildlife
    William Blake
    William Carlos Williams
    William Noble
    Wills
    Wind
    Winter Beauty
    Wood Stoves
    Wreck Cove
    Writers
    Writing
    Writing And Playing
    Writing And Soul
    Writing Business
    Writing Contests
    Writing Drafts
    Writing Fiction
    Writing Tips
    Yearbook
    Yeast Infection
    Yellow Jackets
    Zen

    Archives

    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    January 2022
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013

    Subscribe to Larry Gibbons - Blog by Email
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.