tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80943482011-12-29T09:38:13.609-08:00My name is Carl and one of my hobbies is Scroll Sawing, another is writing, this is why I call the blog Scrollers Scrolls. My grammer will often be incorrect, and although there is a spell checker, I am sure I will never use it. I hope to write memoirs and tales to stimulate the imagination. I have a unique writing style, some will enjoy and some will pass by. I have no problem with that. I am writing for my enjoyment, if you enjoy it to then thats a bonus. Enjoy. CarlScrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.comBlogger201100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1096030265879857552004-09-24T05:36:00.000-07:002004-09-24T06:02:17.576-07:00

Well it is early Friday morning. I catch a ride with my wife Nadine, on Fridays. She works at 5 am and I start at 7am. so that gives me a few hours before work to reflect on things, surf the net for whatever my latest obsession is, right now it is Halloween effects for a party coming up. When I first came to Canada in 1965 I had never even heard of Halloween, let alone trick or treat. Imagine a

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1094418629952400702004-09-05T14:09:00.000-07:002005-08-24T18:55:29.226-07:00

Back in the late seventies I was fresh out of school. Jobs were abundant then and I was greedier than most. I had three.One of my favorite jobs, perhaps due to the whopping four dollars an hour, but more for my fascination of old things, was working with an antique auction company.Once a month the company would wheel into Victoria with a few semi containers packed to the rafters with antiques

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1094418415157363682004-09-05T14:06:00.000-07:002004-09-05T14:06:55.156-07:00

I have portrayed Santa now for about ten years, Maybe it was my size or my hearty laugh that got me started. My boss at work asked me if I would be Santa for his wife's daycare. He had a suite A red felt suite from Sears, white faux fir around the edges, a plastic belt and a rather cotton wool like beard. They had placed the gifts in a large red sack and tucked them in the back of a truck just

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1094418165131691042004-09-05T13:54:00.000-07:002005-08-24T18:51:45.806-07:00

A "Sadgoat" letter for Jan 15 2003, you have to love CBC's "Roundup"The call goes out for a Truly Canadian Martial Art.There can only be one. It would be CanDoA secret art practiced by many but mastered by few. There are several moves and stances that could only be Canadian,THE MOOSE: Stand with both feet firmly planted shoulder width apart. Place the thumb of each hand on the your temples,

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1094181134928857892004-09-02T20:08:00.000-07:002004-09-02T20:12:14.926-07:00

A comment, a comment, MY KINGDOM FOR A COMMENT!!! I once had a thought, that I could write publicly, somewhat like the scrawling on a bathroom wall. But attached to that thought was a thin wisp of an idea, feedback. If I could write and get feedback then my writing would improve. But I fear the wisp is broken. Either that or no one has reached this page from the obscurities of the net. The

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093872915644224882004-08-30T06:34:00.000-07:002004-08-30T06:35:15.643-07:00

Valentines is such a wonderful time of year, A time of romance, a time for a couple who have been married 24 years, who’s children are grown up to finally get away. Off season when rates are low. After looking in our local paper I came upon an ad for a romantic weekend away in Victoria, only $49 per night . Wow that is perfect, lots to see and do there. I booked the room only to find there are no

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093872851457564932004-08-30T06:33:00.000-07:002004-08-30T06:34:11.456-07:00

This is not so much how art has affected my life but more my fathers. I am not sure of all the details, but the story goes something like this. My father was in the Territorial Army in England, something akin to the reserves in Canada. At that time he was working for a company that designed packages, He had an unusual task of painting prunes for a canned product. Why would one paint prunes you

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093872334290492722004-08-30T06:22:00.000-07:002004-09-08T11:58:01.283-07:00

The artist has his palette, the minstrel has his strings The tapestry they weave tells of many things Our life is like a tapestry, its’ fibres so entwined It’s impossible to separate, body soul and mind My palette has no colours My lute it has no strings The Fabric of our tapestry Is made of other things We started on our tapestry the first day that we met Your deep blue velvet sweater, I

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The easiest thing I ever wrote, ironically, cost me the most. Frank Hird-Rutter Nov. 23, 1928-Oct. 20, 2003 Heaven became a richer place with the passing of Frank Hird-Rutter. Frank was truly a renaissance man. He held degrees in mathematics, economics, theology and everything in between. He was an artist, writer, philosopher and a scribe. He was a man of integrity, who as a journalist would

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093610476292907452004-08-27T05:40:00.000-07:002004-08-27T05:41:16.293-07:00

The sun gazed down on my head as I lay in the tall grass of the meadow. The blackbirds were singing on the fence. We had been living at the farm since New Years Day. There was so much to explore here, so many adventures coming our way.The barn was just across the creek in the back of our house. I imagine from the air it would look like a giant "F". Inside the barn were some of the strangest old

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093581782339457882004-08-26T21:41:00.000-07:002006-12-22T21:13:20.883-08:00

This is the letter that was included in Dear Sad Goat.I urge you to read the book, there are some incredible writers there. If you decide to buy a copy all profits go to charity......half way to fame nowhere near fortune!It is published byThis story takes place in Yorkshire England in 1964, I was just 6 years old. Winter and snow was a fascinating change from the rain. We dressed up in the woolen

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093581646280039392004-08-26T21:40:00.000-07:002004-08-26T21:40:46.280-07:00

The staff of the roundup always seem to get something going in my mind In 1975 I was in the reserves, the Canadian Scottish Regiment. That was a year where I had a little bit of an academic struggle at school, I was supposed to go to summer school to make up for a lack of understanding certain principles of mathematics. The rest of my regiment went off to Wainright for summer training.

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093581586096980362004-08-26T21:38:00.000-07:002004-08-26T21:39:46.096-07:00

I had forgotten just how many letters I wrote to roundup@vancouver.cbc I, being a man cannot begin to understand the fortitude required to deliver a baby, any size of baby. Sure I was there and supportive for all of my children's births, and nothing can compare with the feeling you get when your own child is brought into this world. I wonder how my mom must have felt almost 46 years ago. I was

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093581495533775552004-08-26T21:37:00.000-07:002004-08-26T21:38:15.533-07:00

"Roundup" again :D Today I heard the story of the kitty litter box and the bra, interesting concept. Mind you cats are interesting creatures. People do not own cats, cats adopt people, I know this to be true. My family has a cat, the creature I said they may have if I didn't have to clean the cat box, if I didn't have to feed it. Who would have thought the cat had different ideas. This little

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093581384771186132004-08-26T21:35:00.000-07:002004-08-26T21:36:24.770-07:00

Another "Roundup" story, I had forgotten how many I had written! So many years ago my wife and I rented a small house, our first house together. 500 square feet of bliss. It was on a tee junction and the bedroom closet was built in front of the window. Not much chance of car headlights waking you up, but all our clothes faded on one side from the sun. Our bedroom was small, so small that once

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The stream that ran between the house and the barn would spill its banks in the fall and the spring. The cold of winter would encrust the banks, creeping deeper into the water, by the second week the ice was thick enough to skate on. A pair of mitts and a touque made perfect goal posts. We couldn't skate too well, they don't have skating like this in England. Down to the local Canadian Tire store

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093581288942730362004-08-26T21:33:00.001-07:002004-09-05T14:04:32.083-07:00

Another Roundup Story The children were all nestled snug in their beds. Nadine and I started the Christmas baking, twelve dozen sugar cookies. These were going to be the best sugar cookies ever made! Santas, snowmen candy canes and Christmas trees. The santas and candy canes were decorated with red and white sugar. Glistening like a Christmas card. Each Christmas tree was sprinkled with green

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093581213521859562004-08-26T21:33:00.000-07:002004-08-27T05:49:59.666-07:00

In 1967 a ten year old English boy was just losing his accent moved from Toronto to a little village called Pefferlaw just south of Lake Simcoe. The television show Green Acres was still new and life paralleled it. Pefferlaw was a land forgotten by time. Telephones were wooden boxes still mounted on the wall. Party lines, the predecessors of chat rooms, were the only way of communicating with the

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8094348.post-1093581127180453662004-08-26T21:30:00.000-07:002004-08-26T21:32:07.180-07:00

This story was a letter I sent to Richardsons Roundup on CBC. Sometimes the stories we tell are not our own, the one I am about to relate belongs to my wife. I don't want to steal her thunder but the story has to be told, specially this time of year. When our oldest son, Jason was around three we got the family a dog. A cute fuzzy fellow with big black eyes. Jason named the dog Elliot after his

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My name is Carl and one of my hobbies is Scroll Sawing, another is writing, this is why I call the blog Scrollers Scrolls. My grammer will often be incorrect, and although there is a spell checker, I am sure I will never use it. I hope to write memoirs and tales to stimulate the imagination. I have a unique writing style, some will enjoy and some will pass by. I have no problem with that. I am

Scrollerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00832097391923951674noreply@blogger.com1