nonamedufus

The theme of this month's photo challenge coordinated by P.J. over at  a 'lilhoohaa  is "one".  One? Now I'm a music buff so when I hear a word or phrase I often think of a song. How about 1968's " One (Is The Loneliest Number)" by Three Dog Night or the hauntingly beautiful "One" by U2 from 1992? But those are videos and this is a photo challenge. So here are my "ones" from March … The sign said "one way". Maybe if I keep going I'll find summer. The clock in the car said 1 o'clock. Don't stare too long. You may have an accident.  I went to a hospital appointment about mid-March and parked my car on Level F-1 We're health conscious in my house. Well, one of us is anyway. We drink 1% milk. And a quick visit to the music room turned up this post-Beatles Beatles CD of #1 Beatles songs. That was my month. Now, march on over to P.J.'s place @  a 'lilhoohaa   and

Easy for me to say. Right?  Yeah, well, that's because I looked it up. I was sittin' around bored out of my skull, just pickin' my nose the other day… No, really. I was actually picking my nose. C'mon, admit it. You do it too. We all do it. It happens in even the best of families. Some say what happens in your nose should stay in your nose. But they're lying. They do it too. So as I was going for gold I was wondering where the hell all that stuff you pick out of your nose comes from. It really builds up, doesn't it? t mean, let's say you didn't pick your nose. Would it grow and grow until it eventually exploded? At the very least we'd have to breathe out of our mouths. We're doing our nose - and our intelligence quotient - a favour by cleaning it out like that every day. Oh, come on, sure I do it every day. Sometimes twice a day.  And I like it. It's gratifying. Hell, at my age it's about all I've got left that's gratifyin

Did you ever encounter a song that just blew you away? It wasn't necessarily your favourite song and it didn't change your life. But the first time you heard it you were left virtually breathless. I have several. Back in the mid-sixties, local radio pretty much sucked. There was something called The Campus Club on the most popular station in Ottawa, and they were starting to get into rock and roll. But they only played it in the evenings. The rest of the day the radio station featured Montovani and his ilk. I was in my early teens and every night while I was doing my homework and after when I went to bed I'd listen to the American stations I could pull in on my tiny transistor radio. They were so far ahead of Canadian stations. WABC in New York and WBZ in Boston. Now they played rock and roll…long before FM radio. And so I was introduced to rock and roll in my early teens. And I've been a fan ever since. Now, as I said, there were several songs that upon

No, I'm not the Six Million Dollar Man. Close, though, after a couple of medical procedures I've had recently. I know, I know, you're thinking male enhancement. Haven't gone there…yet. No, a couple of months ago I got fitted for hearing aids. My wife was very happy because she didn't have to yell at me anymore, put up with my loud music or suffer if she wanted to watch something I was watching on TV - with the volume cranked up to 35. It's been a bit of an adjustment for me. I often have to tell Mrs D to speak in her "inside voice" or ask her if she's yelling at me on purpose. I guess old habits die hard. Things are so much louder than they used to be I refer to my hearing as having dog's ears. The downside is finding just the right setting for these things. The hearing aids are hidden in my ear canal and can only be adjusted in the audiologist's office. Sometimes the TV voices, while loud enough, can be so tinny that they're