18-21 August: Mission Film Noir Possible and Yo Joe.

18 August: Deliver the Target
(Cue slow quiet repetitive jazz music) I woke up before mom, got some things together, and had breakfast. Cereal with cinnamon and milk. Something for my stomach to ruminate on life with. 

    At 5am, I woke her so she could get ready…for seeing her potential third husband. At 525am, us and Cookie went down to the car. We were not observed and drove nearly fifty minutes to the dark edge of a nearly empty Sobey’s parking lot in Tantallon. Only the early shift at the grocery store had gotten here earlier. The other vehicle was there…waiting. Was I too late?

    I stopped behind it and slowly exited the car. A woman came out of the passenger side, saying something softly to the man driving. Removing a large practical pack, she shut the door and approached.

    Opening the trunk, she laid her bag inside. “Ready?”, I said. 

    “Ready,” she replied with a look like five pounds of anticipation in a three pound bag.

    “You’re in the back, with Cookie.”

    My sister said with false surprise, “Oh. Couldn’t leave him alone, eh?” I nodded in the affirmative. I couldn’t refute her question nor the way she said it. It was the better choice not to answer with words. We got in and I played the chauffeur to the airport.

    As we went, my sister went over the itinerary. It sounded fun, especially the zoo. It would be just the one plane ride to reach Toronto, the big balloon of a city with its big pointy needle. A city on the edge of a potential kerplow. They would be there for three nights and on the third night mom would see him, Mr. Sheeran. He would sing for her like his life depended on it, if he knew what was good for him. 

    I, on the other hand, would be dog-sitting for a half blind and half deaf 18-year-old dog with separation anxiety. A tough mission, but I traveled across the country to do it. The pay was good. Molasses cookies.

    At the airport I helped with mom’s bag and we wished each other a safe and pleasant time. Myself and Cookie headed back to Mom’s place. (Cue high tempo yet tentative music that drops away as my car rides into the early dawn)

18-20: (Back to your regularly scheduled travelog) My moments away from Cookie were limited during these three days. I couldn’t take Cookie into many stores and I couldn’t leave him alone for more than 2-3 hours.

    What I did was quick and direct shopping with little exploring. Groceries were bought for my lunches and suppers, including stopping at the intriguing Fresh Cuts market. Giant Tiger and the biggest darn Great Canadian Dollar Store I had ever seen were visited, and yet only bought one thing there, were two other places I explored. Also on my list were two thrift stores, a liquor store (for a nice NS blueberry wine and an Amaro I hadn’t tried). At the liquor store I also saw a bottle of something I always laugh at…Great White wine. The bottle is huge, inexpensive, 20% alcohol, and if memory serves it tastes like very substandard sweet wine. It has been run by Peller Estate since 1965 in Truro Nova Scotia. BTW the "winery" is in an industrial park.

    There was one stop that really impressed me. Lanzalot Game Store in Blockhouse, between the highway and Lunenberg. It's a converted old red house. Boardgames, puzzles, and the cashier are on the ground floor. Miniatures and terrain are on the second floor. Storage and office are on the third (not open to the public). I spent a fun hour and a half looking around and chatting with the owner, recently retired from the military. 

    Nearby I quickly purchased two French pasties from Boulangerie La Vendéenne. One was an apple tartlet and the other was a chocolate croissant. Delicious.

    A purchase I made in one of the thrift stores I didn’t hesitate to buy. It was pure nostalgia from the past. The first animated G.I. Joe cartoons, for the five-episode miniseries that aired in September 1983…The M.A.S.S Device. I had some of the toys when I watched the series, which aired one episode a day during the week. My friends would rush to our homes, after school, to see each one. I remember thinking it was awesome with good guys (and good women) vs bad guys (and bad women). Great action and spy stuff. The series rested comfortably within my heart and mind. For $2.50 how can you go wrong, right?

    Then…when I came back home…I watched it for the first time since it aired. My young mind didn’t acknowledge the glaring plot holes, multiple MacGuffins, random Deux Ex Machina's, and blatant product placement to sell toys. I will still have warm fuzzy nostalgia for it, but I now can acknowledge its faults. Speaking of product placement, I have a funny story about the many cartoons and toys of the 1980’s.
When Ronald Regan was elected President, he initiated many pro-business deregulations to support his trickle-down economics. Before, cartoons linked to toys were considered advertising by the FCC and stations had to log them as part of allowable advertising time. This meant those kinds of shows were few and far between. With the loosening of these regulations under Regan, major toy companies rushed to have half-hour shows made to help sell their toys. After school time and Saturday mornings became video babysitters for parents at the expense of a demand for toy purchases. Each show added friendly messaging to provide an educational/moral lesson, to abide by new FCC regulations. When the Children’s Television Act of 1990 was passed, these toy driven shows faded into the background. The TV cartoons of the 80’s may have been market driven, but they were certainly memorable.

    During my time babysitting Cookie, I also took him on longer and longer walks to get more exercise. It was nice seeing him romping in the grass with a satisfied smile and reliving his youth.

21: Accepting the Target
(Cue frantic jazz at moderate volume) Around 9pm I got the message. They were back in Halifax. I drove to the arranged pickup spot, exit 7, for the handoff.
It was dark and remote and perfect. When I shut off the car, the animals voiced their eternal challenges and complaints to anyone who could hear them. The moon, as tired as I was, hid its many cratered eyes behind a blanket of dark clouds.

    A truck came up from behind. I tapped my brakes in code. I stepped out and greeted my contact. She said fun was had and my mother saw her potential third husband from afar, but there was no proposal. Ed Sheeran was already married. Mom said she enjoyed herself and that’s what mattered. The mission was a partial success.

    With my mom seated in the car and her bag in the trunk, we headed off to her home. I took a slightly longer way home. I said it was because I was throwing off a tail, but really, it was because I got lost. It mattered not. My stay in Bridgewater was soon to end. (Cue a slow horn solo that sounds like a lullaby)