Just a quick note during Christmas time. Thanks to bad weather and Air Canada's less than swift fixing of a problem, I spent Friday night, all day Saturday, and all day Sunday in Montreal. What was supposed to be a two hour stop in Montreal prior to moving on to St. John's ended up as a two day wait.
I arrived in St. John's at 12:30 AM Christmas Day. So no pre Christmas shopping or visiting occured.
Also, no pre Christmas writing. And now is the time when lots is going on. So no writing will be put on the blog or e-mailed out before my return to Ottawa. A rundown of my time from last Sunday to January 2 will be done on the night of the 2nd... and a story will come back on Sunday, January 7.
Have a good one.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #249
MONDAY...
— Tiring evening dealing with pettiness and childishness. The events at work are really becoming annoying.
— My voice is pretty well back. Still not all perfect but I can talk normal now.
— Long walk tonight to try to unwind. Blah!
TUESDAY...
— Better night tonight. Not much out of the ordinary one way or the other today.
WEDNESDAY...
— Okay evening. Really tired from supper on though. An after work walk is pretty good.
— Will see no more of Melissa until the new year. She leaves for Christmas tomorrow and I’m gone before she gets back.
THURSDAY...
— Tired... plenty of sleep lately but just worn down.
— Do a couple more meetings (did three with my team yesterday).
— I decide to cut the week short. I have a bit of leave stored and decide Friday will be my Saturday... making today Friday. This makes the tiredness more tolerable.
FRIDAY...
— Day off work is nice. Nick and Sheila pop by for lunch and we join Casey, Isaac, Steve, and Anne-Marie for a junior hockey game in Gatineau. St. John’s are in town and they come back to beat Gatineau 4-3 in OT.
— From there it’s off to Father and Sons for some hanging out with Linda and some other co-workers while Read and Jonathan sing.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day around the house. Some napping and movies with hockey night in Canada in the evening.
Hockey Night in Quebec
It is an odd night of hockey. I travel from Ontario to go to Quebec to see a team from my home town in Newfoundland. It’s the first time I’ve seen my hometown team play as well.
I left St. John’s with the minor league Maple Leafs firmly entrenched with more than ten years experience. I had watched that team play out of two stadiums. I was there for the inaugural game. I was there for the trip to the Calder Cup finals. And it was a family event. For much of the time of the Leafs, dad and I shared season tickets with my uncle and a friend of his. And we’d get together each September to plan out the games of the season.
After I left, so did the Leafs. Now it’s junior hockey in St. John’s. The Quebec League’s St. John’s Fog Devils. I can’t say it brings any warm and fuzzy feelings for me in the way that the Maple Leafs did. The Leafs at least started out old school. It was a team with veteran players in an old stadium and a traditional name and uniform.
The move out of Memorial Stadium and into Mile One Stadium was needed... although it did remove some of the romance of the team. There was something about being in a little stadium with rusty rafters and wooden seats, thick with paint, that just felt like hockey. You’d trek through the snow and wind, climb in through the old wooden doors and breathe in the diesel of the Zamboni.
Mile One Stadium took away the warm and cozy, pull-up-a-chair-by-the-fire feel. In Memorial Stadium, you’d look across the building and recognize faces in the other sections. More than once I waved at a friend at the other end of the building. In Mile One, people have become more concerned with watching the jumbotron for their own faces than scanning the stands for those of others.
And now that the Leafs are gone, and the Fog Devils are in, I feel all the more separated from home. All tradition is gone. I hear they even removed the Stadium part of Mile One’s title. It’s now a Centre... just like all those other shopping mall wannabes.
And want on earth is a fog devil anyway? The desperate attempt to gain a foothold in the world of fad. Hoping to see rappers from LA adopt a new version of cool in the form of a horned Ziggy peaking out from behind a crest.
Still, when the Fog Devils came to Gatineau, a group of us from work decided it would be fun to go. I vowed not to cheer for St. John’s though. There betrayal to me as a traditional hockey fan has cut too deep. And besides, how can any self respecting fan cheer for a fog devil?
At the game, we get a treat. Entering the front doors of the old stadium brings back the feel of Memorial Stadium. Cramped corridors and thick coats of paint make the place feel like home. And walking the corridors has that same feel of hockey. I don’t recognize the faces but there’s a comradery in it all. They’re there... like me... for hockey. Nothing more, nothing less.
Before heading down to our seats, we stop to get a beer. It’s just a small stand with room for the one lady selling the beverages and her taps. I use my French to the best of my abilities... “Un Bleu?” Gets me a Labatt’s Blue and I even understand her quote the cost to me.
Sitting in the seats, it’s like I’m back home in old Memorial Stadium even more so. One Zamboni circles the ice in hypnotic fashion. No need for the two vehicles like in the newer arenas. And fans are left on their own for pre-game entertainment. There’s no jumbotron. There’s no entertainment coordinator. And even the public address announcer keeps things brief. People just mill about their seats, chatting to each other.
And through the game, it’s much the same. Back home, they’ve gotten caught up in the entertainment around the game. The have prizes to give away and trivia contests and kissing cam and the blasted jumbotron that searches out and rewards the most annoying children in attendance.
But here, throughout the game, it’s all about the game itself. Some shirts are fired into the stands during the intermissions... and some kids play a five minute game between the first and second periods, while a lone man takes a shot at an empty net during the second intermission. Other than that, the only times the public address announcer breaks the silence is to announce goals... penalties... and the attendance.
And like home, I do end up running into a couple of familiar faces, even here in Gatineau. Two other guys from work stop by, tapping me on the shoulder and standing in the isle to talk for a few minutes just as we would do with friends during those games in Memorial Stadium. It completes the feeling of pulling up that chair next to the fire. It’s this feeling that makes hockey a very real piece of Canada’s culture.
Of course, there are differences from home as well. All the announcements come in French before English. The people selling 50/50 tickets are calling out in French. And the team from St. John’s is not being cheered for.
Anytime I’ve seen St. John’s play in hockey, it’s been as the home team. But today, they’re on the road and getting booed. It’s surreal for me.
By the end of the second period, I’ve been brought back over. Where I went vowing not to cheer for a fog devil, I find myself drawn in by the familiar names on the backs of the jerseys as well as the “St. John’s” written into the crest on the front.
And even though the team is outplayed, they play hard, fight back to tie the game with two goals in the final five minutes, and score a beauty to win it in overtime.
I walk out of the old building with my co-workers talking about how it was a good game in much the same way as I would years previously, walking out of Memorial Stadium with my dad.
St. John’s will be playing a home game while I’m there for Christmas. And I’ll probably get down to Mile One to take a look at the Fog Devils on home ice as well. And even though the faces in the stands will contain some familiar to me, and I’ll be there with my father, there’ll be something missing from the night. Because we’ll be in plastic seats in a Centre rather than wooden ones in a Stadium. And jumbotron will be on throughout the night, trying to pull the mind away from the action on the ice.
Yes, there may be a fireplace at Mile One Centre on that night... but rather than the pop and crackle of the warm fire as we sit comfortably and in peace, it’ll be an electrical fireplace with a rotating light and no warmth what-so-ever. But at least a few kids will get on the jumbotron... and, after all, isn’t that what going to a hockey game is all about?
— Tiring evening dealing with pettiness and childishness. The events at work are really becoming annoying.
— My voice is pretty well back. Still not all perfect but I can talk normal now.
— Long walk tonight to try to unwind. Blah!
TUESDAY...
— Better night tonight. Not much out of the ordinary one way or the other today.
WEDNESDAY...
— Okay evening. Really tired from supper on though. An after work walk is pretty good.
— Will see no more of Melissa until the new year. She leaves for Christmas tomorrow and I’m gone before she gets back.
THURSDAY...
— Tired... plenty of sleep lately but just worn down.
— Do a couple more meetings (did three with my team yesterday).
— I decide to cut the week short. I have a bit of leave stored and decide Friday will be my Saturday... making today Friday. This makes the tiredness more tolerable.
FRIDAY...
— Day off work is nice. Nick and Sheila pop by for lunch and we join Casey, Isaac, Steve, and Anne-Marie for a junior hockey game in Gatineau. St. John’s are in town and they come back to beat Gatineau 4-3 in OT.
— From there it’s off to Father and Sons for some hanging out with Linda and some other co-workers while Read and Jonathan sing.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day around the house. Some napping and movies with hockey night in Canada in the evening.
Hockey Night in Quebec
It is an odd night of hockey. I travel from Ontario to go to Quebec to see a team from my home town in Newfoundland. It’s the first time I’ve seen my hometown team play as well.
I left St. John’s with the minor league Maple Leafs firmly entrenched with more than ten years experience. I had watched that team play out of two stadiums. I was there for the inaugural game. I was there for the trip to the Calder Cup finals. And it was a family event. For much of the time of the Leafs, dad and I shared season tickets with my uncle and a friend of his. And we’d get together each September to plan out the games of the season.
After I left, so did the Leafs. Now it’s junior hockey in St. John’s. The Quebec League’s St. John’s Fog Devils. I can’t say it brings any warm and fuzzy feelings for me in the way that the Maple Leafs did. The Leafs at least started out old school. It was a team with veteran players in an old stadium and a traditional name and uniform.
The move out of Memorial Stadium and into Mile One Stadium was needed... although it did remove some of the romance of the team. There was something about being in a little stadium with rusty rafters and wooden seats, thick with paint, that just felt like hockey. You’d trek through the snow and wind, climb in through the old wooden doors and breathe in the diesel of the Zamboni.
Mile One Stadium took away the warm and cozy, pull-up-a-chair-by-the-fire feel. In Memorial Stadium, you’d look across the building and recognize faces in the other sections. More than once I waved at a friend at the other end of the building. In Mile One, people have become more concerned with watching the jumbotron for their own faces than scanning the stands for those of others.
And now that the Leafs are gone, and the Fog Devils are in, I feel all the more separated from home. All tradition is gone. I hear they even removed the Stadium part of Mile One’s title. It’s now a Centre... just like all those other shopping mall wannabes.
And want on earth is a fog devil anyway? The desperate attempt to gain a foothold in the world of fad. Hoping to see rappers from LA adopt a new version of cool in the form of a horned Ziggy peaking out from behind a crest.
Still, when the Fog Devils came to Gatineau, a group of us from work decided it would be fun to go. I vowed not to cheer for St. John’s though. There betrayal to me as a traditional hockey fan has cut too deep. And besides, how can any self respecting fan cheer for a fog devil?
At the game, we get a treat. Entering the front doors of the old stadium brings back the feel of Memorial Stadium. Cramped corridors and thick coats of paint make the place feel like home. And walking the corridors has that same feel of hockey. I don’t recognize the faces but there’s a comradery in it all. They’re there... like me... for hockey. Nothing more, nothing less.
Before heading down to our seats, we stop to get a beer. It’s just a small stand with room for the one lady selling the beverages and her taps. I use my French to the best of my abilities... “Un Bleu?” Gets me a Labatt’s Blue and I even understand her quote the cost to me.
Sitting in the seats, it’s like I’m back home in old Memorial Stadium even more so. One Zamboni circles the ice in hypnotic fashion. No need for the two vehicles like in the newer arenas. And fans are left on their own for pre-game entertainment. There’s no jumbotron. There’s no entertainment coordinator. And even the public address announcer keeps things brief. People just mill about their seats, chatting to each other.
And through the game, it’s much the same. Back home, they’ve gotten caught up in the entertainment around the game. The have prizes to give away and trivia contests and kissing cam and the blasted jumbotron that searches out and rewards the most annoying children in attendance.
But here, throughout the game, it’s all about the game itself. Some shirts are fired into the stands during the intermissions... and some kids play a five minute game between the first and second periods, while a lone man takes a shot at an empty net during the second intermission. Other than that, the only times the public address announcer breaks the silence is to announce goals... penalties... and the attendance.
And like home, I do end up running into a couple of familiar faces, even here in Gatineau. Two other guys from work stop by, tapping me on the shoulder and standing in the isle to talk for a few minutes just as we would do with friends during those games in Memorial Stadium. It completes the feeling of pulling up that chair next to the fire. It’s this feeling that makes hockey a very real piece of Canada’s culture.
Of course, there are differences from home as well. All the announcements come in French before English. The people selling 50/50 tickets are calling out in French. And the team from St. John’s is not being cheered for.
Anytime I’ve seen St. John’s play in hockey, it’s been as the home team. But today, they’re on the road and getting booed. It’s surreal for me.
By the end of the second period, I’ve been brought back over. Where I went vowing not to cheer for a fog devil, I find myself drawn in by the familiar names on the backs of the jerseys as well as the “St. John’s” written into the crest on the front.
And even though the team is outplayed, they play hard, fight back to tie the game with two goals in the final five minutes, and score a beauty to win it in overtime.
I walk out of the old building with my co-workers talking about how it was a good game in much the same way as I would years previously, walking out of Memorial Stadium with my dad.
St. John’s will be playing a home game while I’m there for Christmas. And I’ll probably get down to Mile One to take a look at the Fog Devils on home ice as well. And even though the faces in the stands will contain some familiar to me, and I’ll be there with my father, there’ll be something missing from the night. Because we’ll be in plastic seats in a Centre rather than wooden ones in a Stadium. And jumbotron will be on throughout the night, trying to pull the mind away from the action on the ice.
Yes, there may be a fireplace at Mile One Centre on that night... but rather than the pop and crackle of the warm fire as we sit comfortably and in peace, it’ll be an electrical fireplace with a rotating light and no warmth what-so-ever. But at least a few kids will get on the jumbotron... and, after all, isn’t that what going to a hockey game is all about?
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #248
MONDAY…
--- Skip squash and have a tricky time at work due to my throat. I’m losing my voice and it’s pretty sore there when I swallow. It’s especially bad if I sneeze. I did it once at work and it felt like my tonsils were going to shoot out of my mouth.
TUESDAY…
--- Well the doctor was visited and my voice isn’t due to sickness but… a strained or pulled vocal chord. Not quite as glamorous as twisting a knee on the playing field in sports but what are ya going to do?
WEDNESDAY…
--- Kind of garbage day at work, largely based on a bit of a tiff with a friend. It’s a lot nicer at work when there are certain people you know you can see and laugh with at break or when you pass them by… And that’s not happening with one person in this place today.
--- Out with mom and her friend/co-worker after work. They’re in town for business so I meet them downtown and we do supper together… it’s good.
THURSDAY…
--- Nasty day. One of the worst ones in a few years actually. Not much went right on this day… but I’ll live.
FRIDAY…
--- Better day than yesterday but still some issues that aren’t super.
--- Real food day… Tom (the manager) gives us breakfast at HQ to start the day… then we have the office Christmas lunch at the Keg downtown… and tonight I have supper with mom and her co-worker at the Mongolian place. My voice just about dies over the day but I make it.
SATURDAY…
--- Quiet day around the house trying to get my voice feeling better.
Badges of Honour
Injuries are one of the badges of honour for an athlete. Most people I’ve played sports with have a story to tell of a time they got hurt. The stories come out... people relate and tell their own... and the whole process continues... sometimes, if enough alcohol is consumed, for hours.
I have endured many an injury over the years. And I can be fairly proud with my record of returning early or playing through problems.
Early one fastpitch softball tournament, while I was playing shortstop, I took a screaming line drive off of my ankle. With my leg numb from toe to shin, I scrambled to pick up the ball and make the out. And I continued with the tournament, playing three games in two days with a swollen and bruised ankle.
Prior to another fastpitch game, I took a ball off the tip of my left ring finger. The finger snapped back and swealed up within seconds. Still, I threw a bit of tape around the knuckle and proceeded to catch the game... catching many a hard pitch right on top of that finger. This was about ten years ago... I’ve never been able to bend that finger all the way since... but I finished the game!
My most proud ‘warrior’ story is of the time I tore my medial collateral ligament (MCL) in my right knee. In the third inning, it popped while I was making a quick stop along the base paths. But with my knee throbbing, I caught another two innings before finishing the game at first base. I didn’t play well for the rest of the game... but such details get left as unimportant.
My MCL story ends with the fact that I returned to the team three weeks later (at least a month before I should) to be a designated hitter in the playoffs. I hit the first pitch I saw to deep centre field for an sacrifice fly and a game tying RBI.
So now I can sit with old team mates and nod as they talk of sore shoulders. I pipe in that I had my shoulder checked out and was told there was likely calcification within the joint. Now that’s a war story for a ball player!
I have other stories of pain and injury. My sister sent my flying over the front steps in my childhood. Eyebrow met concrete walkway and the blood flowed. My uncle thought my eye was no longer within it’s socket... that’s how much blood was gushing from my tiny skull. The scar remains as a reminder for my only time receiving stiches.
I know co-workers who have endured injuries too. Anne-Marie tore knee ligaments in an office volleyball tournament. She finished the tournament and was part of the winning team. Devin was walloped with a curling broom so hard that he was almost killed! A lump of legendary status welled up in record time and the photograph was circulated for months afterwards. And Laura fractured a bone within her wrist while playing hockey... yet she played on, not even realizing that the bone was fractured until months later. Even then, she said “Forget the cast! It’s summer time!” She played golf as my team mate at the RCMP tournament... fractured wrist and all.
And me? Well, we’re getting to me now.
Three weeks ago, I was sitting at my home computer without a care in the world. Healthy, killing some time, enjoying the sun coming through my living room window. And, without warning, I had a mighty sneeze!
It was one of those mega-blast sneezes that explodes from deep down. Not one of those messy sneezes where you’re left to towel off mind you. It was neat and titanic. And with it, I felt an ache in the side of my throat.
My first thought was a small curse. It was me wondering if that was the first sneeze of an oncoming cold. That the ache in my throat would soon develop into a scratchiness, and that would be followed by sinus congestion.
But I was lucky. Over the following days, no symptoms developed and the ache disappeared. Yet, from time to time after that, another quick sneeze would flare the ache. For the following two weeks, It never fully goes away.
Six days ago, the ache graduates from occasional irritant after a sneeze to a constant annoyance. Swallowing is by no means agonizing... but it isn’t a simple pleasure either. It’s sort of like trying to swallow a peanut. And with an oral presentation days away, I began to fear the cold catching up to me. Would I be miserable on the day when my thoughts would have to be clear and my voice strong?
But that day passes without incident. The ache is still in my throat but no other symptoms come.. I make it through the presentation alive.
Still, I’m tired and emotionally drained, so Saturday is a quiet day around the house for me. By Saturday night, an amazing thing... my voice changes! I talk to myself.. Likely in complaint about some commercial I see on TV... and suddenly I can barely recognize the voice that comes out. It’s Johnny Cash’s voice... no... no it’s Barry White’s voice. Deep and with a base that would shake the water in a glass like when the T-Rex approached the heros in Jurassic Park. And then I knew... at age 34, I would begin my life as a singer. Not just singer... I’d be a crooner! No more single life for me my friends! The girls would be running for me wildly.
For the rest of the evening, I walked around testing my voice. Not through song, but simple sentences. “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash”... “This is the sound of my voice.”... “Oooo baby.”
On Sunday, trouble begins. My deep voice that’ll make me millions vanishes. A couple of crackles and things begin to close down.
By Sunday night, I’m down to a weak gravely thing to communicate with. There is a shade of Cash still in there... Barry White is long gone... and fear of the flu comes back.
Monday I have co-workers trying to coax me into saying those famous words... “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.” I refuse... my voice will not be turned in to a mockery!
At lunch, it’s too late. Johnny is long gone and all that’s left is a troll that lives under a bridge. Nick even offers to go look for some Billy Goats.
This morning, I’m down to a whisper. Instructions at work are given by me secretly telling the closest person to me so that they can broadcast it to the crew. I’m a whispering mob boss now. “Never go against the family.” I belong in the Godfather movies.
So I’m off to the doctor. Three and a half years into my stay in Ottawa, I finally have to go to see a doctor. And what is it he tells me? Strep throat? Pneumonia? Bronchitis? No... it appears that I have a pulled vocal chord! It takes six weeks for these things to heal!
Quite a warrior I am. Torn MCL... finish the game. Blasted finger... catch the game. And a shoulder joint turning to bone due to years of intense use!
And my latest injury... six weeks of voice trouble due to a sneeze. Millions of dollars gone, simply because my vocal chords shifted from Barry White to the troll under the bridge.
--- Skip squash and have a tricky time at work due to my throat. I’m losing my voice and it’s pretty sore there when I swallow. It’s especially bad if I sneeze. I did it once at work and it felt like my tonsils were going to shoot out of my mouth.
TUESDAY…
--- Well the doctor was visited and my voice isn’t due to sickness but… a strained or pulled vocal chord. Not quite as glamorous as twisting a knee on the playing field in sports but what are ya going to do?
WEDNESDAY…
--- Kind of garbage day at work, largely based on a bit of a tiff with a friend. It’s a lot nicer at work when there are certain people you know you can see and laugh with at break or when you pass them by… And that’s not happening with one person in this place today.
--- Out with mom and her friend/co-worker after work. They’re in town for business so I meet them downtown and we do supper together… it’s good.
THURSDAY…
--- Nasty day. One of the worst ones in a few years actually. Not much went right on this day… but I’ll live.
FRIDAY…
--- Better day than yesterday but still some issues that aren’t super.
--- Real food day… Tom (the manager) gives us breakfast at HQ to start the day… then we have the office Christmas lunch at the Keg downtown… and tonight I have supper with mom and her co-worker at the Mongolian place. My voice just about dies over the day but I make it.
SATURDAY…
--- Quiet day around the house trying to get my voice feeling better.
Badges of Honour
Injuries are one of the badges of honour for an athlete. Most people I’ve played sports with have a story to tell of a time they got hurt. The stories come out... people relate and tell their own... and the whole process continues... sometimes, if enough alcohol is consumed, for hours.
I have endured many an injury over the years. And I can be fairly proud with my record of returning early or playing through problems.
Early one fastpitch softball tournament, while I was playing shortstop, I took a screaming line drive off of my ankle. With my leg numb from toe to shin, I scrambled to pick up the ball and make the out. And I continued with the tournament, playing three games in two days with a swollen and bruised ankle.
Prior to another fastpitch game, I took a ball off the tip of my left ring finger. The finger snapped back and swealed up within seconds. Still, I threw a bit of tape around the knuckle and proceeded to catch the game... catching many a hard pitch right on top of that finger. This was about ten years ago... I’ve never been able to bend that finger all the way since... but I finished the game!
My most proud ‘warrior’ story is of the time I tore my medial collateral ligament (MCL) in my right knee. In the third inning, it popped while I was making a quick stop along the base paths. But with my knee throbbing, I caught another two innings before finishing the game at first base. I didn’t play well for the rest of the game... but such details get left as unimportant.
My MCL story ends with the fact that I returned to the team three weeks later (at least a month before I should) to be a designated hitter in the playoffs. I hit the first pitch I saw to deep centre field for an sacrifice fly and a game tying RBI.
So now I can sit with old team mates and nod as they talk of sore shoulders. I pipe in that I had my shoulder checked out and was told there was likely calcification within the joint. Now that’s a war story for a ball player!
I have other stories of pain and injury. My sister sent my flying over the front steps in my childhood. Eyebrow met concrete walkway and the blood flowed. My uncle thought my eye was no longer within it’s socket... that’s how much blood was gushing from my tiny skull. The scar remains as a reminder for my only time receiving stiches.
I know co-workers who have endured injuries too. Anne-Marie tore knee ligaments in an office volleyball tournament. She finished the tournament and was part of the winning team. Devin was walloped with a curling broom so hard that he was almost killed! A lump of legendary status welled up in record time and the photograph was circulated for months afterwards. And Laura fractured a bone within her wrist while playing hockey... yet she played on, not even realizing that the bone was fractured until months later. Even then, she said “Forget the cast! It’s summer time!” She played golf as my team mate at the RCMP tournament... fractured wrist and all.
And me? Well, we’re getting to me now.
Three weeks ago, I was sitting at my home computer without a care in the world. Healthy, killing some time, enjoying the sun coming through my living room window. And, without warning, I had a mighty sneeze!
It was one of those mega-blast sneezes that explodes from deep down. Not one of those messy sneezes where you’re left to towel off mind you. It was neat and titanic. And with it, I felt an ache in the side of my throat.
My first thought was a small curse. It was me wondering if that was the first sneeze of an oncoming cold. That the ache in my throat would soon develop into a scratchiness, and that would be followed by sinus congestion.
But I was lucky. Over the following days, no symptoms developed and the ache disappeared. Yet, from time to time after that, another quick sneeze would flare the ache. For the following two weeks, It never fully goes away.
Six days ago, the ache graduates from occasional irritant after a sneeze to a constant annoyance. Swallowing is by no means agonizing... but it isn’t a simple pleasure either. It’s sort of like trying to swallow a peanut. And with an oral presentation days away, I began to fear the cold catching up to me. Would I be miserable on the day when my thoughts would have to be clear and my voice strong?
But that day passes without incident. The ache is still in my throat but no other symptoms come.. I make it through the presentation alive.
Still, I’m tired and emotionally drained, so Saturday is a quiet day around the house for me. By Saturday night, an amazing thing... my voice changes! I talk to myself.. Likely in complaint about some commercial I see on TV... and suddenly I can barely recognize the voice that comes out. It’s Johnny Cash’s voice... no... no it’s Barry White’s voice. Deep and with a base that would shake the water in a glass like when the T-Rex approached the heros in Jurassic Park. And then I knew... at age 34, I would begin my life as a singer. Not just singer... I’d be a crooner! No more single life for me my friends! The girls would be running for me wildly.
For the rest of the evening, I walked around testing my voice. Not through song, but simple sentences. “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash”... “This is the sound of my voice.”... “Oooo baby.”
On Sunday, trouble begins. My deep voice that’ll make me millions vanishes. A couple of crackles and things begin to close down.
By Sunday night, I’m down to a weak gravely thing to communicate with. There is a shade of Cash still in there... Barry White is long gone... and fear of the flu comes back.
Monday I have co-workers trying to coax me into saying those famous words... “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.” I refuse... my voice will not be turned in to a mockery!
At lunch, it’s too late. Johnny is long gone and all that’s left is a troll that lives under a bridge. Nick even offers to go look for some Billy Goats.
This morning, I’m down to a whisper. Instructions at work are given by me secretly telling the closest person to me so that they can broadcast it to the crew. I’m a whispering mob boss now. “Never go against the family.” I belong in the Godfather movies.
So I’m off to the doctor. Three and a half years into my stay in Ottawa, I finally have to go to see a doctor. And what is it he tells me? Strep throat? Pneumonia? Bronchitis? No... it appears that I have a pulled vocal chord! It takes six weeks for these things to heal!
Quite a warrior I am. Torn MCL... finish the game. Blasted finger... catch the game. And a shoulder joint turning to bone due to years of intense use!
And my latest injury... six weeks of voice trouble due to a sneeze. Millions of dollars gone, simply because my vocal chords shifted from Barry White to the troll under the bridge.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #247
MONDAY…
--- Little bit annoying/tough day at work.
--- It’s Melissa and visitors for lunch prior to work.
--- Me falling asleep on the sofa after I get home.
TUESDAY…
--- Busy night with trouble with the computer system.
--- Chinese food with Megan and Laura is a good break though.
--- Tom Waits is on the Daily Show tonight and man… that guy commands attention when he sings.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Crazy day. Starts nice enough with office bowling. My team has Melissa, Megan, Laura and I on it and it’s fun with that group.
--- Work is pretty insane afterwards. System troubles to fix up… helping workers… just lots of craziness.
THURSDAY…
--- Another busy day at work. Lots of work getting things ready for temporary employees to apply for other jobs.
--- After being friends for almost a year and a half, I find out I’ve been pronouncing Laura’s last name wrong. Everyone at work has been. She just let it go. Craziness.
FRIDAY…
--- Tough day with pre work stuff that is stressful and wearing on the nerves. And then work starts with a bang as well. Supper at the officer’s mess for the staff Christmas supper. I sit with Laura, Megan, Melissa, Janice and Phil and that’s good… but I’m too worn out to have any real input into the evening.
--- Home a bit early and it’s time to decompress from a tough week.
SATURDAY…
--- With little sleep last night, I go lazy around the house today. I need it anyway… feeling pretty worn out from the last week or so.
--- Liberal convention stuff is odd at times and mildly entertaining. Stephane Dion is fine by me as the winner.
A very busy week keeps me away from the story for update #246. There was just no good time to sit and come up with anything. Actually, I think it’s the busiest week I’ve had since 1998… when I was finishing up my university degree.
Anyway…
Stanley Cup for Geeks
After a week that smacked me around and left me bruised and battered mentally, I was in hide away mood Saturday. The curtains didn’t even open, I was able to figure the weather outside based on hearing some wind against the windows and seeing some brightness against the kitchen blinds late in the day.
So on hide away day, the TV is on from 9:00 AM to midnight… and much of the watching is of the Liberal leadership convention.
Politics is a bizarre field to study. Not necessarily the issues behind the politics but the human element of it all. Seeing the people drawn in to the production of it all is what’s fascinating.
And, after watching a dozen of hours of the Liberal game, here’s my conclusion... democratic nations are run by dorks!
That’s right, the people in political power are largely the same people that were beat up and wedgied in high school. And the delegates who vote for the leaders on a day like Saturday are the biggest set of dorks and nerds in society today. They’re stuck in this frantic bubble of flash. For many of the 4500 people in attendance, this is the Stanley Cup… the World Series… Woodstock… Live Aid. It’s their moment to be a part of a group that ‘makes a difference’ and they go wild in nerdish, dorky delight.
What makes them this way? Let’s observe examples shall we…
Straw hats. Even the commentators made a joke of straw hats. Those cheap hats with “liberal” written on them (although they could have any political slogan taking the place of that moniker). And I thought “no, surly people don’t still wear those hats.”
Not ten minutes later there’s some dishevelled old man with a straw hat perched atop his head. In fact, this seems to be a man of straw. His beard is bristles of an old style curling brush and the bits of hair poking out from under his lid is that of the common kitchen broom variety. It appears that this guy was pulled in from off the street to be given a cup of coffee and a bit to eat prior to being deposited back on a nearby street corner. He doesn’t even appear to be aware of what’s going on around him.
Spin is another topic even the TV commentators joke of. How every supporter spin the situation to make things sound just peachy. Every candidate is being made out to be the next Pierre Trudeau or John F. Kennedy. And after every vote, even the candidate near the bottom of the popularity has loyal followers touting how “this is where we want to be”… “We’re building momentum”.
Some of this isn’t even spin. Some of it is just bold faced lies. Nobody got on camera, during the entire twelve hours of live broadcasting, and said “This doesn’t look good, I think we’ll lose.”
And for some, it seems like they’re drinking the kool-aid of a cult leader. They’re blindsided by defeat even though the rest of us are seeing it come some six hours before it got there.
It got me thinking… who are these people trying to convince anyway? Everyone able to vote for this show is already right there. As far as the TV audience goes, they could tell the cameras the absolute truth and it won’t make any difference. A supporter can say that their candidate will lose and the vote will remain the same as when they proclaim to the nation that their man will lead the free world. I have no 1-900 number to call. I can’t get my friends to call either. There’s no internet site to point and click for my choice. They’re in their bubble with all the power to decide the turnout, and they’re trying to convince us of something other than reality.
And so I continue to watch the insanity, wondering more and more about this question. Who are they trying to convince? Why do they bother to do this? I’m looking at seas of signs with candidate names on them as they bounce along the auditorium floor almost like living bits of cardboard that dance across human heads. And I wonder “Why?” There could be 4000 signs with one candidate’s name floating through the throngs but, when it comes time to vote, any of these sign holders could punch any other name they wish. It’s not like it’s a sign counting democracy we’re in.
Then there’s the prop to prove anyone’s inclusion in the world of fanatic dork. That invention brought to us through Japanese baseball. I speak, of course, about Thunder Sticks!!!
For those who never knew their name or where they came from, Thunder Sticks are those inflatable contraptions that look like a creation of a really bored clown at a kid’s birthday party. Giraffe? Horsey? No kid, you don’t want that… here’s an inflatable 2x4! Actually, here… take another and have some fun.
That’s Thunder Sticks. Two inflatable 2x4’s that the fanatic will pound together. It has taken the place of the normal human ritual of applause. For the dork, hands just won’t do, you have to slap together inflated plastic to show your support. This began in Japanese baseball. Fans throughout Japanese stadiums would eat their sushi and slam their Thunder Sticks.
The sushi failed to make it to North American sports facilities (unless you have seats in a luxury box) but the Thunder Sticks came in hoards and all over North American sports facilities, annoying Thunder Sticks became the rage.
That rage has died down in sports. Only the desperate franchise, looking to latch on to a fade a few years too late, break them out. But the dorks in politics have found a whole new level of ‘cool’!
I picture them now, prior to the convention, digging through their closet for the straw hat while yelling to the wife asking “where’d you put my Thunder Sticks???” The horror.
The press get caught up in the dorky fanaticism. For the first few hours, they aren’t too bad but… by hour four… you’re clinging to every reaction and looking for gold on film. A candidate gets up to go to the bathroom and a dozen camera people jump up, flick on the lights, and run to cut him off. Microphone yielding reporters are trampled as they try to extend their arm far enough to get a snippet of political thought from a guy who needs to drain the kidneys. This is, after all, important stuff.
And no discussion of political dorkiness would be complete without mention of the music.
A political convention is a time warp to a 1980s concert of all the worst musical acts together on one stage… on one night. The delegates dance and clap, completely out of sequence, to the most horrid collection of tunes a music lover could ever hear. But they love it. It’s like they’ve returned to their teenage years when they got their first kiss in the middle of a Journey concert. Or maybe Starship… or the worst moments of Fleetwood Mac. But even though their minds take the geeks back, we at home get to watch forty-five year old, delusional, straw hat covered twits as they put down their Thunder Sticks long enough to do some out of time jig to Mambo #5! Now I tell you people… that truly is horror.
And, in closing, what in the name of God is up with the thumbs? An enthusiastic thumbs up to anything went out the day after Happy Days was taken off the air. Maybe if you review movies, you can give a very easy going and slow paced thumbs up… maybe. But if you’re a political person of any kind, and you have some insane grin plastered to your face with a straw hat perched atop your skull… for the love of all that you find holy!... keep your hands in your pockets! Some spastic thumbs up to show how all is wonderful in your world is the greatest tip off to the rest of the world that… you are very much insane.
Yes indeed. After twelve hours of watching the Liberal Leadership convention, I have come to the conclusion that democracies the world over are run by crazy dorks. And after watching his candidate win, last night some guy named Eugene, skipped home, gave passing cars an enthusiastic thumbs up, and lost his straw hat in the wind. But he didn’t even mind much cause when he gets home, his mom will make him some hot coco and he’ll retire downstairs to his basement apartment, having won his Stanley Cup. And forty-five year old Eugene will drift off to sleep with a smile on his face and the tune of Mambo #5 racing through his head.
--- Little bit annoying/tough day at work.
--- It’s Melissa and visitors for lunch prior to work.
--- Me falling asleep on the sofa after I get home.
TUESDAY…
--- Busy night with trouble with the computer system.
--- Chinese food with Megan and Laura is a good break though.
--- Tom Waits is on the Daily Show tonight and man… that guy commands attention when he sings.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Crazy day. Starts nice enough with office bowling. My team has Melissa, Megan, Laura and I on it and it’s fun with that group.
--- Work is pretty insane afterwards. System troubles to fix up… helping workers… just lots of craziness.
THURSDAY…
--- Another busy day at work. Lots of work getting things ready for temporary employees to apply for other jobs.
--- After being friends for almost a year and a half, I find out I’ve been pronouncing Laura’s last name wrong. Everyone at work has been. She just let it go. Craziness.
FRIDAY…
--- Tough day with pre work stuff that is stressful and wearing on the nerves. And then work starts with a bang as well. Supper at the officer’s mess for the staff Christmas supper. I sit with Laura, Megan, Melissa, Janice and Phil and that’s good… but I’m too worn out to have any real input into the evening.
--- Home a bit early and it’s time to decompress from a tough week.
SATURDAY…
--- With little sleep last night, I go lazy around the house today. I need it anyway… feeling pretty worn out from the last week or so.
--- Liberal convention stuff is odd at times and mildly entertaining. Stephane Dion is fine by me as the winner.
A very busy week keeps me away from the story for update #246. There was just no good time to sit and come up with anything. Actually, I think it’s the busiest week I’ve had since 1998… when I was finishing up my university degree.
Anyway…
Stanley Cup for Geeks
After a week that smacked me around and left me bruised and battered mentally, I was in hide away mood Saturday. The curtains didn’t even open, I was able to figure the weather outside based on hearing some wind against the windows and seeing some brightness against the kitchen blinds late in the day.
So on hide away day, the TV is on from 9:00 AM to midnight… and much of the watching is of the Liberal leadership convention.
Politics is a bizarre field to study. Not necessarily the issues behind the politics but the human element of it all. Seeing the people drawn in to the production of it all is what’s fascinating.
And, after watching a dozen of hours of the Liberal game, here’s my conclusion... democratic nations are run by dorks!
That’s right, the people in political power are largely the same people that were beat up and wedgied in high school. And the delegates who vote for the leaders on a day like Saturday are the biggest set of dorks and nerds in society today. They’re stuck in this frantic bubble of flash. For many of the 4500 people in attendance, this is the Stanley Cup… the World Series… Woodstock… Live Aid. It’s their moment to be a part of a group that ‘makes a difference’ and they go wild in nerdish, dorky delight.
What makes them this way? Let’s observe examples shall we…
Straw hats. Even the commentators made a joke of straw hats. Those cheap hats with “liberal” written on them (although they could have any political slogan taking the place of that moniker). And I thought “no, surly people don’t still wear those hats.”
Not ten minutes later there’s some dishevelled old man with a straw hat perched atop his head. In fact, this seems to be a man of straw. His beard is bristles of an old style curling brush and the bits of hair poking out from under his lid is that of the common kitchen broom variety. It appears that this guy was pulled in from off the street to be given a cup of coffee and a bit to eat prior to being deposited back on a nearby street corner. He doesn’t even appear to be aware of what’s going on around him.
Spin is another topic even the TV commentators joke of. How every supporter spin the situation to make things sound just peachy. Every candidate is being made out to be the next Pierre Trudeau or John F. Kennedy. And after every vote, even the candidate near the bottom of the popularity has loyal followers touting how “this is where we want to be”… “We’re building momentum”.
Some of this isn’t even spin. Some of it is just bold faced lies. Nobody got on camera, during the entire twelve hours of live broadcasting, and said “This doesn’t look good, I think we’ll lose.”
And for some, it seems like they’re drinking the kool-aid of a cult leader. They’re blindsided by defeat even though the rest of us are seeing it come some six hours before it got there.
It got me thinking… who are these people trying to convince anyway? Everyone able to vote for this show is already right there. As far as the TV audience goes, they could tell the cameras the absolute truth and it won’t make any difference. A supporter can say that their candidate will lose and the vote will remain the same as when they proclaim to the nation that their man will lead the free world. I have no 1-900 number to call. I can’t get my friends to call either. There’s no internet site to point and click for my choice. They’re in their bubble with all the power to decide the turnout, and they’re trying to convince us of something other than reality.
And so I continue to watch the insanity, wondering more and more about this question. Who are they trying to convince? Why do they bother to do this? I’m looking at seas of signs with candidate names on them as they bounce along the auditorium floor almost like living bits of cardboard that dance across human heads. And I wonder “Why?” There could be 4000 signs with one candidate’s name floating through the throngs but, when it comes time to vote, any of these sign holders could punch any other name they wish. It’s not like it’s a sign counting democracy we’re in.
Then there’s the prop to prove anyone’s inclusion in the world of fanatic dork. That invention brought to us through Japanese baseball. I speak, of course, about Thunder Sticks!!!
For those who never knew their name or where they came from, Thunder Sticks are those inflatable contraptions that look like a creation of a really bored clown at a kid’s birthday party. Giraffe? Horsey? No kid, you don’t want that… here’s an inflatable 2x4! Actually, here… take another and have some fun.
That’s Thunder Sticks. Two inflatable 2x4’s that the fanatic will pound together. It has taken the place of the normal human ritual of applause. For the dork, hands just won’t do, you have to slap together inflated plastic to show your support. This began in Japanese baseball. Fans throughout Japanese stadiums would eat their sushi and slam their Thunder Sticks.
The sushi failed to make it to North American sports facilities (unless you have seats in a luxury box) but the Thunder Sticks came in hoards and all over North American sports facilities, annoying Thunder Sticks became the rage.
That rage has died down in sports. Only the desperate franchise, looking to latch on to a fade a few years too late, break them out. But the dorks in politics have found a whole new level of ‘cool’!
I picture them now, prior to the convention, digging through their closet for the straw hat while yelling to the wife asking “where’d you put my Thunder Sticks???” The horror.
The press get caught up in the dorky fanaticism. For the first few hours, they aren’t too bad but… by hour four… you’re clinging to every reaction and looking for gold on film. A candidate gets up to go to the bathroom and a dozen camera people jump up, flick on the lights, and run to cut him off. Microphone yielding reporters are trampled as they try to extend their arm far enough to get a snippet of political thought from a guy who needs to drain the kidneys. This is, after all, important stuff.
And no discussion of political dorkiness would be complete without mention of the music.
A political convention is a time warp to a 1980s concert of all the worst musical acts together on one stage… on one night. The delegates dance and clap, completely out of sequence, to the most horrid collection of tunes a music lover could ever hear. But they love it. It’s like they’ve returned to their teenage years when they got their first kiss in the middle of a Journey concert. Or maybe Starship… or the worst moments of Fleetwood Mac. But even though their minds take the geeks back, we at home get to watch forty-five year old, delusional, straw hat covered twits as they put down their Thunder Sticks long enough to do some out of time jig to Mambo #5! Now I tell you people… that truly is horror.
And, in closing, what in the name of God is up with the thumbs? An enthusiastic thumbs up to anything went out the day after Happy Days was taken off the air. Maybe if you review movies, you can give a very easy going and slow paced thumbs up… maybe. But if you’re a political person of any kind, and you have some insane grin plastered to your face with a straw hat perched atop your skull… for the love of all that you find holy!... keep your hands in your pockets! Some spastic thumbs up to show how all is wonderful in your world is the greatest tip off to the rest of the world that… you are very much insane.
Yes indeed. After twelve hours of watching the Liberal Leadership convention, I have come to the conclusion that democracies the world over are run by crazy dorks. And after watching his candidate win, last night some guy named Eugene, skipped home, gave passing cars an enthusiastic thumbs up, and lost his straw hat in the wind. But he didn’t even mind much cause when he gets home, his mom will make him some hot coco and he’ll retire downstairs to his basement apartment, having won his Stanley Cup. And forty-five year old Eugene will drift off to sleep with a smile on his face and the tune of Mambo #5 racing through his head.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #246 (week)
Busy week and a busy weekend to go with it. Lots going on at work and visitors for a few days… so the story will come Wednesday night. Only the weekly portion of things is here.
MONDAY…
--- Busy day… lots of work stuff and then a presentation to go to… and I have to get the car to the garage before that… and get back there after it (all thanks to Melissa)… and groceries… and squash. Bah, tiring day.
TUESDAY…
--- Fine enough day at the office with a rare lunch with Kiyomi. Take it easy in the evening.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Busy day at work with a bit of the old days coming back to CNI… Karen and Laura work with us for the day. That’s kind of fun.
--- Well it looks like Quebec will be a nation within Canada no matter what. I am really disgusted by the panhandling our politicians do to one province. Spending so much time seeing to Quebec’s needs while lumping the rest of the country into some non-Quebec group is a slap in the face to the individuality of all other parts of the country. But it’s all about votes for the politicians.
THURSDAY…
--- Busy day of work and also take some time to look over a few resumes for a few of the temporary employees as they go for permanent jobs in the office.
--- I still am bad at squash… but the new racquet does give promise of a new day… it’s just not today!
FRIDAY…
--- Busy and somewhat annoying day at work.
--- Quiet night with some cleaning around the house and a pretty long nap.
SATURDAY…
--- Work half a day of overtime. Kind of nice being back on the AFIS side of work for a day.
--- Visitors in town, and Melissa come and we have pizza for supper.
--- Off to James Bond in the night. Solid movie. Daniel Craig is a very good Bond… he really does have a chance to be the best of the bunch.
MONDAY…
--- Busy day… lots of work stuff and then a presentation to go to… and I have to get the car to the garage before that… and get back there after it (all thanks to Melissa)… and groceries… and squash. Bah, tiring day.
TUESDAY…
--- Fine enough day at the office with a rare lunch with Kiyomi. Take it easy in the evening.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Busy day at work with a bit of the old days coming back to CNI… Karen and Laura work with us for the day. That’s kind of fun.
--- Well it looks like Quebec will be a nation within Canada no matter what. I am really disgusted by the panhandling our politicians do to one province. Spending so much time seeing to Quebec’s needs while lumping the rest of the country into some non-Quebec group is a slap in the face to the individuality of all other parts of the country. But it’s all about votes for the politicians.
THURSDAY…
--- Busy day of work and also take some time to look over a few resumes for a few of the temporary employees as they go for permanent jobs in the office.
--- I still am bad at squash… but the new racquet does give promise of a new day… it’s just not today!
FRIDAY…
--- Busy and somewhat annoying day at work.
--- Quiet night with some cleaning around the house and a pretty long nap.
SATURDAY…
--- Work half a day of overtime. Kind of nice being back on the AFIS side of work for a day.
--- Visitors in town, and Melissa come and we have pizza for supper.
--- Off to James Bond in the night. Solid movie. Daniel Craig is a very good Bond… he really does have a chance to be the best of the bunch.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #245
MONDAY…
--- Day off work and I have lunch with Christina (friend from home) before taking her to the airport. Other than that, a few groceries and some relaxing.
TUESDAY…
--- Sick day. Feeling run down and my throat and sinuses are not too happy today… so I stay home and rest.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Work is pretty normal. I split a pizza with Megan for supper and watch a show about global warming and the quacks hired by big business to pretend to be scientists who believe people have no influence over the climate.
THURSDAY…
--- In early for some supervisor type stuff… to go with lunch. Work is alright, pretty busy but alright.
FRIDAY…
--- Quiet morning… work is fine, keep pretty busy but not run silly. It’s a reduced Friday staff too so that makes it easier to work in peace.
SATURDAY…
--- Laziness for a while and then off to Shannon’s with pizza in tow and a night of The Life of Brian. Possibly the funniest movie ever made.
The Greyness of Home
One’s environment can make all the difference in life. I come from a grey place. Newfoundland has spectacular views and a wildness to it unlike most of North America. But one thing it can not boast is an abundance of sunshine. Fog, drizzle, cloud, snow… through the year you can literally go weeks without seeing your shadow.
When I moved to Ottawa, I came to a place that is much warmer in the summer, much colder in the winter, and there is actually a season called Spring. And one other thing that actually took getting used to for me in Ottawa… the sun. Summer is a sunny time and, despite the cold, winter days are often cloudless. Sunglasses are a must in Ottawa.
However, the last month has been a time of familiarity for me. When friends and co-workers walk around mumbling about the drizzle and cloud, I’ve actually picked up a bounce in my step. For this fall has been like home.
It makes me realize how messed up Newfoundland can make a person. Or, if messed up is too harsh a characterization, unique can surely be used. You see, growing up in a land of grey has rubbed off on me.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a sunny day. I’d take sun over cloud most any day. But it wasn’t until this extended period of cloud cover that I realized an astounding fact. For me, grey is home.
I have never felt more at home within the city of Ottawa as I have over the last month. Drizzle moistens the face. Pavement is in a constant state of dampness. And that familiar cloud pattern I grew up with hangs over the city. Shades of grey… some near white and others more dirty, as a reflection of roadside snow that has been painted by the exhaust of cars. The shades of grey give the sky depth… it feels almost like a great wool sweater pulled over the city.
A fleece and my hiking rain shell are all I need. A ball cap keeps the wet away from my glasses and I comfortably stride through the city feeling solid with the damp air around me.
Others are annoyed. They’re used to sun and ready for the cold that overtakes the city around this time of year. I’ve never gotten used to that coldness though. It rips the breath from my lungs and leaves me huddling for salvation.
Yet this month, where temperatures have stayed above normal, it is the locals huddling. I had huddled against cold… they huddle against the wet. But I embrace the wetness and am thankful for the mild temperatures.
One day this week, I walk to the office with Laura. Gusts of wind spit the drizzle at us and she almost jumps with fright at each gust. Being a friend, she offers her umbrella to me… trying to hold it between us… to shelter us from the weather.
But the gusts try to turn the umbrella into a kite. Laura struggles to control it and I back away and tell her to keep it for herself.
I’ve never been used to umbrellas. I own one but it hasn’t moved from its perch in over a year. In Newfoundland, the wind is too strong to make an umbrella practical. A rain coat and good cap beat an umbrella every time.
So on a day like mine with Laura, I prefer the damp cheeks and walk with hands in pockets. I feel free this way. I’m comfortable… at home.
And next to me, Laura yelps and curses as the wind wrenches the umbrella within her grip. For her the walk can’t end soon enough… yet for me, it’s nice and memorable as a stroll with a friend just before work.
--- Day off work and I have lunch with Christina (friend from home) before taking her to the airport. Other than that, a few groceries and some relaxing.
TUESDAY…
--- Sick day. Feeling run down and my throat and sinuses are not too happy today… so I stay home and rest.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Work is pretty normal. I split a pizza with Megan for supper and watch a show about global warming and the quacks hired by big business to pretend to be scientists who believe people have no influence over the climate.
THURSDAY…
--- In early for some supervisor type stuff… to go with lunch. Work is alright, pretty busy but alright.
FRIDAY…
--- Quiet morning… work is fine, keep pretty busy but not run silly. It’s a reduced Friday staff too so that makes it easier to work in peace.
SATURDAY…
--- Laziness for a while and then off to Shannon’s with pizza in tow and a night of The Life of Brian. Possibly the funniest movie ever made.
The Greyness of Home
One’s environment can make all the difference in life. I come from a grey place. Newfoundland has spectacular views and a wildness to it unlike most of North America. But one thing it can not boast is an abundance of sunshine. Fog, drizzle, cloud, snow… through the year you can literally go weeks without seeing your shadow.
When I moved to Ottawa, I came to a place that is much warmer in the summer, much colder in the winter, and there is actually a season called Spring. And one other thing that actually took getting used to for me in Ottawa… the sun. Summer is a sunny time and, despite the cold, winter days are often cloudless. Sunglasses are a must in Ottawa.
However, the last month has been a time of familiarity for me. When friends and co-workers walk around mumbling about the drizzle and cloud, I’ve actually picked up a bounce in my step. For this fall has been like home.
It makes me realize how messed up Newfoundland can make a person. Or, if messed up is too harsh a characterization, unique can surely be used. You see, growing up in a land of grey has rubbed off on me.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a sunny day. I’d take sun over cloud most any day. But it wasn’t until this extended period of cloud cover that I realized an astounding fact. For me, grey is home.
I have never felt more at home within the city of Ottawa as I have over the last month. Drizzle moistens the face. Pavement is in a constant state of dampness. And that familiar cloud pattern I grew up with hangs over the city. Shades of grey… some near white and others more dirty, as a reflection of roadside snow that has been painted by the exhaust of cars. The shades of grey give the sky depth… it feels almost like a great wool sweater pulled over the city.
A fleece and my hiking rain shell are all I need. A ball cap keeps the wet away from my glasses and I comfortably stride through the city feeling solid with the damp air around me.
Others are annoyed. They’re used to sun and ready for the cold that overtakes the city around this time of year. I’ve never gotten used to that coldness though. It rips the breath from my lungs and leaves me huddling for salvation.
Yet this month, where temperatures have stayed above normal, it is the locals huddling. I had huddled against cold… they huddle against the wet. But I embrace the wetness and am thankful for the mild temperatures.
One day this week, I walk to the office with Laura. Gusts of wind spit the drizzle at us and she almost jumps with fright at each gust. Being a friend, she offers her umbrella to me… trying to hold it between us… to shelter us from the weather.
But the gusts try to turn the umbrella into a kite. Laura struggles to control it and I back away and tell her to keep it for herself.
I’ve never been used to umbrellas. I own one but it hasn’t moved from its perch in over a year. In Newfoundland, the wind is too strong to make an umbrella practical. A rain coat and good cap beat an umbrella every time.
So on a day like mine with Laura, I prefer the damp cheeks and walk with hands in pockets. I feel free this way. I’m comfortable… at home.
And next to me, Laura yelps and curses as the wind wrenches the umbrella within her grip. For her the walk can’t end soon enough… yet for me, it’s nice and memorable as a stroll with a friend just before work.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #244
MONDAY…
--- Not a bad day… meeting in the afternoon breaks it up.
--- Squash is alright. I win more than lose but it’s all against the one person… so I’m not the worst player out there anyway!
TUESDAY…
--- Busy busy day. And by 2:30 I’m dead tired. So it’s snoozing for much of the evening between 6 and 8.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Not a bad day at work and Grace O’Malley’s (a pub) for a drink and supper with some co-workers.
--- I don’t sleep well again… going to bed around ten to eleven Wednesday night but not getting to sleep much before one.
THURSDAY…
--- Run down with lack of sleep and maybe fighting a cold (hard to tell when you aren’t sleeping). Work half day and take in a presentation for the other half of the day.
--- Skip squash tonight, no energy for it.
FRIDAY…
--- Work is madness today. I’m run everywhere for much of the day. A big crowd at lunch doesn’t really take away from the madness either.
--- To Grace O’Malley’s again after work for a bite and a few drinks. It’s alright.
SATURDAY…
--- Quiet day around the house while the rain pours down. Louis, Casey, Nick and some of Nick’s friends come over for the hockey game tonight. A fine night of foolishness.
--- I may still be catching a cold… a possibility that displeases me.
Curse of Dayshift
A sleepless week is a tough thing to endure. It seems like such an easy thing to do. I mean to fall asleep should be as simple as deciding not to do anything. Turn off the lights, lie down and just allow yourself to get bored.
But the mind works in peculiar ways and sometimes it seems like it’d be easier to fly to the moon than have a good night’s sleep.
This week has been a tough one sleep wise. Each night I’d go to bed tired, ready to drift off within moments of my head hitting the pillow. Yet, for some reason the sleep wouldn’t come.
Tossing and turning, looking for the position that will whisk you away to dreamland, all that comes is frustration with each glance at the clock and, with it, the realization that morning will come with aches, a foggy head, and a general feeling of malaise.
One afternoon, I force myself not to nap in the hope that sheer exhaustion will grant me a peaceful night’s sleep. And the other afternoons have me succumb to fatigue for anywhere between twenty minutes and two hours of restless sleep. It’s the type of sleep where you can hear other things going on around you. You can hear the TV or the e-mail notification. You can hear neighbours coming home from their day of work. But you hear it from a semi-dream state where rest doesn’t really come. You awake groggy.
At 8:30, the thought of bed is appealing. But what good would going be? I’d wake up at 2:30 or 3:00 and be more messed up than I am currently.
So I push to 10:30 and venture off to bed hoping this will be the night I dream peacefully and awake refreshed.
And each night, 10:30 turns to 11:00 and 11:30 soon follows. On the worst such night, 12:40 is seen before any real sleep comes and I mull over the idea of taking the next day off from work.
By midweek, the lack of rest brings other unwanted issues. I feel like I’m fighting a cold. A tired immune system is just not a good immune system I guess.
It’s one of those colds where you generally feel okay through the day. Maybe it’s the aches of sickness or maybe just those that come with being too tired. But then at night, when the head hits the pillow, the nose rebels.
And when you want to be at your most comfortable and peaceful, my nose clogs and begins to leak… all at the same time.
So on two occasions this week, when sleep finally came, it was with a tissue clasped between sleeping fingers.
Yet hope is about to dawn. For here is a long weekend followed by evening shift. And evening shift at work has always suited my sleeping patterns better. Going to bed when the feeling comes upon me rather than when the clock says I better… and awaking when the level of rest has reached maximum rather than when a CD of music jerks me into consciousness.
Of course, thanks to cloggy the hose nose, Friday and Saturday night both only brought minimal rest. I just feel like I need one night… one good night that will bring back the strength to ditch the germs in my head and get me back on track.
Maybe that night will be tonight… hopefully tonight… it better be tonight.
--- Not a bad day… meeting in the afternoon breaks it up.
--- Squash is alright. I win more than lose but it’s all against the one person… so I’m not the worst player out there anyway!
TUESDAY…
--- Busy busy day. And by 2:30 I’m dead tired. So it’s snoozing for much of the evening between 6 and 8.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Not a bad day at work and Grace O’Malley’s (a pub) for a drink and supper with some co-workers.
--- I don’t sleep well again… going to bed around ten to eleven Wednesday night but not getting to sleep much before one.
THURSDAY…
--- Run down with lack of sleep and maybe fighting a cold (hard to tell when you aren’t sleeping). Work half day and take in a presentation for the other half of the day.
--- Skip squash tonight, no energy for it.
FRIDAY…
--- Work is madness today. I’m run everywhere for much of the day. A big crowd at lunch doesn’t really take away from the madness either.
--- To Grace O’Malley’s again after work for a bite and a few drinks. It’s alright.
SATURDAY…
--- Quiet day around the house while the rain pours down. Louis, Casey, Nick and some of Nick’s friends come over for the hockey game tonight. A fine night of foolishness.
--- I may still be catching a cold… a possibility that displeases me.
Curse of Dayshift
A sleepless week is a tough thing to endure. It seems like such an easy thing to do. I mean to fall asleep should be as simple as deciding not to do anything. Turn off the lights, lie down and just allow yourself to get bored.
But the mind works in peculiar ways and sometimes it seems like it’d be easier to fly to the moon than have a good night’s sleep.
This week has been a tough one sleep wise. Each night I’d go to bed tired, ready to drift off within moments of my head hitting the pillow. Yet, for some reason the sleep wouldn’t come.
Tossing and turning, looking for the position that will whisk you away to dreamland, all that comes is frustration with each glance at the clock and, with it, the realization that morning will come with aches, a foggy head, and a general feeling of malaise.
One afternoon, I force myself not to nap in the hope that sheer exhaustion will grant me a peaceful night’s sleep. And the other afternoons have me succumb to fatigue for anywhere between twenty minutes and two hours of restless sleep. It’s the type of sleep where you can hear other things going on around you. You can hear the TV or the e-mail notification. You can hear neighbours coming home from their day of work. But you hear it from a semi-dream state where rest doesn’t really come. You awake groggy.
At 8:30, the thought of bed is appealing. But what good would going be? I’d wake up at 2:30 or 3:00 and be more messed up than I am currently.
So I push to 10:30 and venture off to bed hoping this will be the night I dream peacefully and awake refreshed.
And each night, 10:30 turns to 11:00 and 11:30 soon follows. On the worst such night, 12:40 is seen before any real sleep comes and I mull over the idea of taking the next day off from work.
By midweek, the lack of rest brings other unwanted issues. I feel like I’m fighting a cold. A tired immune system is just not a good immune system I guess.
It’s one of those colds where you generally feel okay through the day. Maybe it’s the aches of sickness or maybe just those that come with being too tired. But then at night, when the head hits the pillow, the nose rebels.
And when you want to be at your most comfortable and peaceful, my nose clogs and begins to leak… all at the same time.
So on two occasions this week, when sleep finally came, it was with a tissue clasped between sleeping fingers.
Yet hope is about to dawn. For here is a long weekend followed by evening shift. And evening shift at work has always suited my sleeping patterns better. Going to bed when the feeling comes upon me rather than when the clock says I better… and awaking when the level of rest has reached maximum rather than when a CD of music jerks me into consciousness.
Of course, thanks to cloggy the hose nose, Friday and Saturday night both only brought minimal rest. I just feel like I need one night… one good night that will bring back the strength to ditch the germs in my head and get me back on track.
Maybe that night will be tonight… hopefully tonight… it better be tonight.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #243
A hazy lighthouse courtesy, if I remember correctly, of Sam Dhargalkar. It seems to be a fitting image for today's story...
MONDAY…
--- Not a bad evening of work. Start the day alright too as I meet up with Melissa and we grab lunch and go for a walk over in Gatineau.
--- An hour long walk around my neighbourhood after work is good too.
TUESDAY…
--- Go to work a touch early to stop at the mall for the new Jeff Tweedy DVD. Good music needs to be bought!
--- Work is fine… kind of busy with electronics but you do what you must.
--- Nick and Mike pop over to my place after work for a few drinks and some talking. Not a bad time.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Tweedy (Lead singer of Wilco) on DVD in the morning. Work is normal in the evening. A movie when I get home… Saw II is pretty creepy.
THURSDAY…
--- Work is fine. Full area with four AFIS people joining CNI to pump out the work. So, in a weird twist, I’m Melissa’s supervisor for a day.
FRIDAY…
--- Hectic like day and I’m in a fog for most of it. Sleep in until 10:00… Have to be at the restaurant for the CNI luncheon at 11:30… work for two hours in QC next to Kiyomi (CNI work but no room to do it there so I take it to QC)… that’s nice for a change. Evening shift is with a minimal team and I’m there until 8:00. Not the most productive day really.
SATURDAY…
--- After a day of lazing… it’s an evening of mingling. First it’s Linda Jackson’s for a little party celebrating her degree. Melissa picks me up and we meet Isabelle while there… fun time.
--- After that it’s to Melissa’s hanging out with Melissa’s friend, Anne-Marie.
--- From there the three of us go to a house party downtown… meet up with Brenda (from work) and meet several interesting people as well.
--- A $50 cab ride home ends the night at around 2:15 in the morning… wouldn’t want to shell that out for a cab every day but once a year or so is fine and dandy for an interesting night.
A late night last night followed by a really interesting round of shark shows on the Discovery Network… and with me having a rather tired and foggy type of week this week, this seems fitting…
Living in a Fog
One of the things I miss about home, now that I’m living in Ottawa, is fog. Sure, Ottawa gets fog from time to time… but it’s almost always a morning event that burns off as the temperatures rise. If you aren’t up before 8:00 AM, you’d likely never see it. Other than that, I think there was one day, in the three plus years I’ve been here, that fog lasted all day long.
In Newfoundland, Spring time will bring weeks of fog with only occasional glimpses of the sun. For a portion of my life, I hated this. It felt claustrophobic and left people with headaches. But after a while, I started appreciating the feel of it. The mystery… and how it obscures the world around us. And now that I’m away, I miss it.
Fog can give serious topics added weight. In the Robert McNamara film “The Fog of War”, McNamara explains the term “fog of war” by saying “war is so complex it's beyond the ability of the human mind to comprehend all the variables. Our judgment, our understanding, are not adequate. And we kill people unnecessarily.” With that in mind, it makes one stop and ponder many of the events in the world today. If more people saw war like this, the world would likely be a safer place today.
And there are still more types of fog to consider. The fog of the mind that makes ordinary tasks as complex as nuclear science.
Whether it’s a lack of good sleep… hectic times around me… my mind drifting on to other things… or simply not eating enough vegetables… On Friday I had one of those foggy days that come about once every couple of months. It’s a day where the IQ drops to Forrest Gump levels and the simplest of tasks becomes a chore.
And I knew it was coming. I woke up late and was tempted to even call in and say I won’t be at the staff luncheon. Waiting until 3:00 and having a reduced number of workers felt more appealing than going in for 11:30, eating Chinese buffet and then working for several hours with a large crew.
But I went in anyway and plodded through the day. On days like these, my answer to many work questions goes as follows… “What does your manual say?”
Sure it gets me out of the jam of trying to answer a question… but it’s also good for the worker to find the answer for themselves. So it’s a win win situation. I don’t look stupid and they get smarter. Now that’s management!
After a while, a question is bound to come that the manual doesn’t cover. With that, I have to show my cards and just be honest… “My brain isn’t working today” is a common explanation. And, when these situations occur, I at least don’t try to make something up. Searching out the answer may be a pain but it avoids trouble.
And with those last words, a fog once again envelops my mind. Clear thoughts are nowhere to be found. I have to wander about, searching my brain, knowing that if I stumble close enough, like in real life, the haze dissipates and the thought sits there clearly for me to examine and discuss. But right now, it’s way off on the horizon with little more than a silhouette dimly visible.
Yes, there can be much frustration, but at the same time, intrigue when one is wandering through the fog.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #242
MONDAY…
--- Work is alright. Pretty busy but fine.
--- Squash night is fine for the sweat but I’m not winning much. Bah!
TUESDAY…
--- Work is pretty good. Not too busy but not sitting around bored either. After work it’s movie night with Missy… double feature at the Mayfair. Two very different and good movies. I especially like Half Nelson… but it’s no feel good, cheery flick… for the most part anyway.
--- Thanks to the movie it’s a late night to bed.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Work is sort of busy with a tour coming through for me to deal with and a few extra hours after the day is over with Linda and me working on resumes.
--- Little early evening nap.
THURSDAY…
--- Near that time when I have to say I just stink at squash. I think I’m getting worse! Racquet sports have never been my thing.
--- Work is alright… sort of slow morning and busy afternoon.
FRIDAY…
--- Work’s okay. Meatloaf for lunch is quite good actually, that cafeteria does it all.
--- Some after work drinks with Nick, Louis, Casey and Isaac.
--- Evening in front of the computer, and with the World Series, and some other TV… and a nap.
SATURDAY…
--- Quebec is a nation again. The Liberals are starting to talk about calling the Province of Quebec a nation within the nation of Canada. If this becomes a serious Liberal push whenever the next federal election comes, I won’t vote Liberal. Quebec is a nation just as Newfoundland is. The two provinces are just as unique… there’s more to it than language and I, as a Newfoundlander, won’t accept special rights given to Quebec while Newfoundland gets lumped in with the rest of the country. Stupid stuff… if this is the way politics will go, Canada will die. There’s probably at least six or seven ‘nations’ within Canada. Pacific Nation… Prairie Nation… Quebec… Ontario… Maritime… Newfoundland… Northern Nation… Native Nation. For me, Quebec is either part of Canada or it isn’t… and the people of Quebec have to make up their mind what they want and that’s it. And perhaps, the people of Quebec is nothing more than a minority of outspoken ones… cause when it came to a vote historically, the people choose Canada.
Rocket Leaves
So much would be missed with blindness. And no, I’m not going blind… I just recently got a new pair of glasses and see things a bit more clearly than I had for the last year or two.
And sitting here, wondering what to write about today, I was looking out the window on a grey, blustery day… and I just watched leaves shot up through the air.
Talk of blindness always goes back to the basic visions we’d lose. Sunsets… the face of a loved one… mountain vistas. It’s all true. I’d miss all of these things if I was never able to see again.
But there’s the other things like… skyward shooting leaves. Fall always gives the image of red, yellow and orange leaves drifting gently to the ground. The tree lets go and watches them drop to the earth.
It’s the unique that we need to pay attention to though. I’m sitting in my second story living room with no tree visible from my seat, and I just saw several leaves launched upwards by the gusts of swirling wind.
There are many things not to be taken for granted. Moonlight on the sea. Mischievously gleaming eyes. Looking down at the lights of a small town from atop a mountain, just as dusk fades to night.
I’ve enjoyed seeing my father standing in the airport, looking around the arrivals room and not seeing me until I’m standing there slapping him on the shoulder.
I’ve enjoyed seeing my niece’s eyes. You can see their thoughts through their eyes… one working through and analysing and the other plotting and demanding your love.
There’s my sister’s laugh… which although it can be heard, the visual adds to the moment.
Sometimes vision is needed to protect ones safety. Walking with my mother is often a hazardous event. Only once have I felt the ache but I’ve feared it often and watch her pendulum of pain closely. You see, mom walks a touch faster than I do and she walks with her right arm swinging back and forth in a most energetic way. And mom is shorter than me… leaving her club like hand perfectly in line for delicate locations on the men of this world.
If I walked faster, I’d be along side rather than slightly behind… if I were taller, my thigh would take the brunt of the damage… shorter, and my stomach’s abs could be tightened in time for protection. But at my height and pace of walk… I must watch my mom closely at all times.
There’s much to see. Some of it you fear, some of it you love. And some things just trigger the imagination to dream up all sorts of thoughts and emotions. Just look what a skyward bound set of leaves did for me.
--- Work is alright. Pretty busy but fine.
--- Squash night is fine for the sweat but I’m not winning much. Bah!
TUESDAY…
--- Work is pretty good. Not too busy but not sitting around bored either. After work it’s movie night with Missy… double feature at the Mayfair. Two very different and good movies. I especially like Half Nelson… but it’s no feel good, cheery flick… for the most part anyway.
--- Thanks to the movie it’s a late night to bed.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Work is sort of busy with a tour coming through for me to deal with and a few extra hours after the day is over with Linda and me working on resumes.
--- Little early evening nap.
THURSDAY…
--- Near that time when I have to say I just stink at squash. I think I’m getting worse! Racquet sports have never been my thing.
--- Work is alright… sort of slow morning and busy afternoon.
FRIDAY…
--- Work’s okay. Meatloaf for lunch is quite good actually, that cafeteria does it all.
--- Some after work drinks with Nick, Louis, Casey and Isaac.
--- Evening in front of the computer, and with the World Series, and some other TV… and a nap.
SATURDAY…
--- Quebec is a nation again. The Liberals are starting to talk about calling the Province of Quebec a nation within the nation of Canada. If this becomes a serious Liberal push whenever the next federal election comes, I won’t vote Liberal. Quebec is a nation just as Newfoundland is. The two provinces are just as unique… there’s more to it than language and I, as a Newfoundlander, won’t accept special rights given to Quebec while Newfoundland gets lumped in with the rest of the country. Stupid stuff… if this is the way politics will go, Canada will die. There’s probably at least six or seven ‘nations’ within Canada. Pacific Nation… Prairie Nation… Quebec… Ontario… Maritime… Newfoundland… Northern Nation… Native Nation. For me, Quebec is either part of Canada or it isn’t… and the people of Quebec have to make up their mind what they want and that’s it. And perhaps, the people of Quebec is nothing more than a minority of outspoken ones… cause when it came to a vote historically, the people choose Canada.
Rocket Leaves
So much would be missed with blindness. And no, I’m not going blind… I just recently got a new pair of glasses and see things a bit more clearly than I had for the last year or two.
And sitting here, wondering what to write about today, I was looking out the window on a grey, blustery day… and I just watched leaves shot up through the air.
Talk of blindness always goes back to the basic visions we’d lose. Sunsets… the face of a loved one… mountain vistas. It’s all true. I’d miss all of these things if I was never able to see again.
But there’s the other things like… skyward shooting leaves. Fall always gives the image of red, yellow and orange leaves drifting gently to the ground. The tree lets go and watches them drop to the earth.
It’s the unique that we need to pay attention to though. I’m sitting in my second story living room with no tree visible from my seat, and I just saw several leaves launched upwards by the gusts of swirling wind.
There are many things not to be taken for granted. Moonlight on the sea. Mischievously gleaming eyes. Looking down at the lights of a small town from atop a mountain, just as dusk fades to night.
I’ve enjoyed seeing my father standing in the airport, looking around the arrivals room and not seeing me until I’m standing there slapping him on the shoulder.
I’ve enjoyed seeing my niece’s eyes. You can see their thoughts through their eyes… one working through and analysing and the other plotting and demanding your love.
There’s my sister’s laugh… which although it can be heard, the visual adds to the moment.
Sometimes vision is needed to protect ones safety. Walking with my mother is often a hazardous event. Only once have I felt the ache but I’ve feared it often and watch her pendulum of pain closely. You see, mom walks a touch faster than I do and she walks with her right arm swinging back and forth in a most energetic way. And mom is shorter than me… leaving her club like hand perfectly in line for delicate locations on the men of this world.
If I walked faster, I’d be along side rather than slightly behind… if I were taller, my thigh would take the brunt of the damage… shorter, and my stomach’s abs could be tightened in time for protection. But at my height and pace of walk… I must watch my mom closely at all times.
There’s much to see. Some of it you fear, some of it you love. And some things just trigger the imagination to dream up all sorts of thoughts and emotions. Just look what a skyward bound set of leaves did for me.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #241
MONDAY…
--- Some morning movies and e-mails. Work is fine… not much out of the ordinary one way or the other really.
--- Long walk after work. An hour around the neighbourhood with the MP3 player blasting.
TUESDAY…
--- Fairly good day in the office. A couple of meetings to start the day and I’m in for an hour longer than normal… but it’s some banked time to use later on.
WEDNESDAY…
--- A couple of work meetings again today. And a few drinks after work with some of the boys. Not a bad time.
THURSDAY…
--- Four meetings and an hour pulled out of the normal to help the boss to try to retrieve a document. Not much work gets done with a schedule like that… well, regular work anyway.
--- In keeping with the week, I fall asleep on the sofa for a while tonight, wake around 3:30… and aim for bed around 4:00. Not great for the sleep schedule.
FRIDAY…
--- Work is busy but good. Supper is Pizza Hut. First time I’ve had the stuff in years… and thanks to the likes of Laura and Megan, I can even eat a Hawaiian pizza without having to bribe someone into it.
--- After work drinks with several of the guys from work and some of the friends of one of them… it’s a pretty good time.
--- The sofa takes me to dream land.
SATURDAY…
--- Some morning e-mails… off to Shannon’s for Dick’s Diner and some baseball on TV. I’m hoping it’ll be a good World Series.
First Snowfall
Leaves of orange, yellow and red.
Yesterday, they glowed
With a clear blue background.
Today, they wilt in grey.
Lovers in sweater and fleece.
Yesterday they walked entwined along the canal
With squirrels exploring fallen leaves.
Today, they huddle indoors with lights on at noon.
Snow is spoken of with romance.
Gentle flakes floating in dream worlds
With mittened children and the smell of wood stoves.
But first snow is wet, rainy and drives the living into hiding.
February snow is that of forest trails.
Skiing, skating, laughter and hot chocolate
With miniature snowshoe tracks of bunnies.
First snow is that of cold, wet concrete.
It falls but the ground remains green.
Colourful leaves stay today but will be gone tomorrow.
From 7:30 to 6:00, all daylight is dusk.
First snowfall is here.
--- Some morning movies and e-mails. Work is fine… not much out of the ordinary one way or the other really.
--- Long walk after work. An hour around the neighbourhood with the MP3 player blasting.
TUESDAY…
--- Fairly good day in the office. A couple of meetings to start the day and I’m in for an hour longer than normal… but it’s some banked time to use later on.
WEDNESDAY…
--- A couple of work meetings again today. And a few drinks after work with some of the boys. Not a bad time.
THURSDAY…
--- Four meetings and an hour pulled out of the normal to help the boss to try to retrieve a document. Not much work gets done with a schedule like that… well, regular work anyway.
--- In keeping with the week, I fall asleep on the sofa for a while tonight, wake around 3:30… and aim for bed around 4:00. Not great for the sleep schedule.
FRIDAY…
--- Work is busy but good. Supper is Pizza Hut. First time I’ve had the stuff in years… and thanks to the likes of Laura and Megan, I can even eat a Hawaiian pizza without having to bribe someone into it.
--- After work drinks with several of the guys from work and some of the friends of one of them… it’s a pretty good time.
--- The sofa takes me to dream land.
SATURDAY…
--- Some morning e-mails… off to Shannon’s for Dick’s Diner and some baseball on TV. I’m hoping it’ll be a good World Series.
First Snowfall
Leaves of orange, yellow and red.
Yesterday, they glowed
With a clear blue background.
Today, they wilt in grey.
Lovers in sweater and fleece.
Yesterday they walked entwined along the canal
With squirrels exploring fallen leaves.
Today, they huddle indoors with lights on at noon.
Snow is spoken of with romance.
Gentle flakes floating in dream worlds
With mittened children and the smell of wood stoves.
But first snow is wet, rainy and drives the living into hiding.
February snow is that of forest trails.
Skiing, skating, laughter and hot chocolate
With miniature snowshoe tracks of bunnies.
First snow is that of cold, wet concrete.
It falls but the ground remains green.
Colourful leaves stay today but will be gone tomorrow.
From 7:30 to 6:00, all daylight is dusk.
First snowfall is here.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #240
MONDAY…
--- Downtown with mom and dad. We do the canal and have a snack at a patio in the Market. After that it’s around the house with Melissa and her folks visiting in the evening.
TUESDAY…
--- End of the six day weekend and it felt like only a couple of days. Bought new glasses with mom and dad’s input… should get them by the weekend.
--- Drop mom and dad off at the airport in the early afternoon. It was a nice visit with them here.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Busy day at the office. And a typical day shift day with me having a nap after work.
THURSDAY…
--- Little sleep and a busy day moving CNI back to the first floor. It all makes for a bit of a tricky day.
--- After work nap and squash… and I stink at squash tonight. A few good moments but I beat nobody and seem to run out of gas or something.
FRIDAY…
--- Sort of busy day at work. Some wet snow through the morning and evening and I have to scrape the car for the first time this season.
--- An easy going night with some groceries and e-mail writing and baseball on TV.
SATURDAY…
--- Quiet day. But I should feel a little unwanted. The business world has been known to hustle for your business but, in the last week, I’ve been ignored by Toyota when it comes to getting my replacement driver’s side mirror… and now the same goes with my glasses. A call saying they were ready for yesterday… I go in to see only sunglasses ready. They say both pairs will be ready by 4:00 Saturday and that they’ll call me then… the call never comes. Businesses, as reliable as… well… as… umm… well they aren’t very reliable at all. Anyway, I call them… go get the new specs… and now I realize that my eyes were getting a fair bit worse… good change.
--- Little Stevey Harper was at it again this week. I’ll call him Little Stevey cause he’s saying very adolescent things. When a Liberal candidate claims an individual Israeli attack on a Lebanese town was a war crime, that doesn’t give the Prime Minister free reign to claim the entire Liberal party is anti-Israeli. And anyway, claiming an act was a war crime has nothing to do with overall support. Support for an ally doesn’t include blindly supporting everything that ally does. Little Stevey would be a dangerous player on the world stage if Canada had any real say in world events. This is one time I’m glad Canada has a small voice cause Stevey is an embarrassment with his generalizations.
Grandpa Simpson Said it Best
I find image a fascinating thing. Everybody has some level of concern regarding their image. Even those that claim they don’t care about image are portraying a particular image. The fact is, no matter what you do in this world, there will be an image of you that others will pick up on. Sometimes it’s the image you wish to give off, and other times it’s not. And acceptance of different images are always changing.
An example of the change of image acceptance is found in the world of rap and hip hop music. Back when I was in high school, this was seen as a purely black form of music. The thought of white rappers was on par with the black country singer.
Still, some in our school wanted to be seen as a rapper. They didn’t rap though… they just liked the image of it. So you’d see white Newfoundlanders trying to dress and talk like black men from the ghettos of American cities.
To the credit of most, we saw this as people trying to be something they aren’t. They were being fake and caught up in an image rather than reality and, like any respectful high school student would, we put them in their place.
Ridicule, shunning, physical abuse all acted as deterrents to the black wannabes. They were made to reform or their lives would be hell.
Today, the wannabes have won the war. It’s now okay to be a white hip hop or rap performer. To be from suburban, white Canada and to try to live like the downtown, black American has now been seen as a form of acceptable expression.
Does this make us better for being tolerant or accepting of other styles and beliefs? Or does it make us more superficial and searching for our identity through the mainstream media? Probably it’s a bit of both.
Changes in images go beyond music. Sports have also seen a shift in style.
Once upon a time, an athlete was expected to show class, sportsmanship, and manliness. Today, we see trash talking at an all time high with the sports journalists, by in large, supporting the practice. And we see a change in what makes a man… well… a man.
Maurice Richard was thrown in the box for two minutes for “looking so good.” This was during his time selling a hair product that covered grey hair. Even then, Richard took some heat for it… real men didn’t put products in their hair. If they went grey, they went grey and others would support their manhood.
Today, hair products have been overtaken by sexual enhancement drugs. Last night, I watched the home opener for the Montreal Canadiens (Ironically enough, Maurice Richard’s team). At the boards, to the right of centre… for the entire TV world to see… was a banner for Viagra. Twenty years ago, an athlete talking about needing sexual help in the form of a pill would be thrown in the corner and beaten for his weakness. This would fall under the same cloud as homosexuality in the sporting world. After all, athletes are virile men.
Have we become more tolerant when it comes to the athlete? I guess we have to a degree. But again, it falls under what’s acceptable. In the same way that we now accept trash talk and classless behaviour, we accept the fact that an athlete will endorse a product (any product) to make an extra buck. Selling Viagra is now seen as being no different than selling a Ford truck. So maybe we’ll see Wayne Gretzky jump from the automobile world to that of the bedroom… and then we’ll be in for a real treat.
Some images flat out lie. Body building is supposed to show strength and health. But the reality of it is that of supreme superficiality. Tanning beds, drugs and nutritional supplements are as key to that way of life as training. Men all strive to be black in the same way that Michael Jackson has become white and many women are expected to get their boobs done so that they can still be seen as feminine. Neither image comes off as very healthy to me.
And when you think of it, body builders once held the image of being among the most manly of all men… but some of their main concerns now are enough tanning time at the salon, shaving their bodies, and putting blonde highlights in their hair.
Talking about shaving male bodies (a topic I never thought I’d write about… and I feel slightly disturbed having written the phrase “talking about shaving male bodies”) what’s with the increased desire to shave anyway? Most men on TV have hairless chests now. Come to think of it, they have hairless legs too. Will we start seeing evening television with a heterosexual man running a razor down his leg in a bubble bath?
How is it that men who behave more and more feminine are becoming more and more desired by women? Twenty years ago, if you shaved your chest you were seen as a pansy and too worried about the superficial. Today, you’ll get the girl. It’s all quite confusing for those of us trying to “keep it real”.
It all reminds me of a Simpson’s quote. And it pretty well speaks for how I view this entire image makeover that we’re seeing in society. Grandpa Simpson put it so eloquently when he said…
“I used to be with ‘it’, but then they changed what ‘it’ was… now what I’m with isn’t ‘it’… and what’s ‘it’ is weird and scary to me.”
Bless the Simpson’s.
--- Downtown with mom and dad. We do the canal and have a snack at a patio in the Market. After that it’s around the house with Melissa and her folks visiting in the evening.
TUESDAY…
--- End of the six day weekend and it felt like only a couple of days. Bought new glasses with mom and dad’s input… should get them by the weekend.
--- Drop mom and dad off at the airport in the early afternoon. It was a nice visit with them here.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Busy day at the office. And a typical day shift day with me having a nap after work.
THURSDAY…
--- Little sleep and a busy day moving CNI back to the first floor. It all makes for a bit of a tricky day.
--- After work nap and squash… and I stink at squash tonight. A few good moments but I beat nobody and seem to run out of gas or something.
FRIDAY…
--- Sort of busy day at work. Some wet snow through the morning and evening and I have to scrape the car for the first time this season.
--- An easy going night with some groceries and e-mail writing and baseball on TV.
SATURDAY…
--- Quiet day. But I should feel a little unwanted. The business world has been known to hustle for your business but, in the last week, I’ve been ignored by Toyota when it comes to getting my replacement driver’s side mirror… and now the same goes with my glasses. A call saying they were ready for yesterday… I go in to see only sunglasses ready. They say both pairs will be ready by 4:00 Saturday and that they’ll call me then… the call never comes. Businesses, as reliable as… well… as… umm… well they aren’t very reliable at all. Anyway, I call them… go get the new specs… and now I realize that my eyes were getting a fair bit worse… good change.
--- Little Stevey Harper was at it again this week. I’ll call him Little Stevey cause he’s saying very adolescent things. When a Liberal candidate claims an individual Israeli attack on a Lebanese town was a war crime, that doesn’t give the Prime Minister free reign to claim the entire Liberal party is anti-Israeli. And anyway, claiming an act was a war crime has nothing to do with overall support. Support for an ally doesn’t include blindly supporting everything that ally does. Little Stevey would be a dangerous player on the world stage if Canada had any real say in world events. This is one time I’m glad Canada has a small voice cause Stevey is an embarrassment with his generalizations.
Grandpa Simpson Said it Best
I find image a fascinating thing. Everybody has some level of concern regarding their image. Even those that claim they don’t care about image are portraying a particular image. The fact is, no matter what you do in this world, there will be an image of you that others will pick up on. Sometimes it’s the image you wish to give off, and other times it’s not. And acceptance of different images are always changing.
An example of the change of image acceptance is found in the world of rap and hip hop music. Back when I was in high school, this was seen as a purely black form of music. The thought of white rappers was on par with the black country singer.
Still, some in our school wanted to be seen as a rapper. They didn’t rap though… they just liked the image of it. So you’d see white Newfoundlanders trying to dress and talk like black men from the ghettos of American cities.
To the credit of most, we saw this as people trying to be something they aren’t. They were being fake and caught up in an image rather than reality and, like any respectful high school student would, we put them in their place.
Ridicule, shunning, physical abuse all acted as deterrents to the black wannabes. They were made to reform or their lives would be hell.
Today, the wannabes have won the war. It’s now okay to be a white hip hop or rap performer. To be from suburban, white Canada and to try to live like the downtown, black American has now been seen as a form of acceptable expression.
Does this make us better for being tolerant or accepting of other styles and beliefs? Or does it make us more superficial and searching for our identity through the mainstream media? Probably it’s a bit of both.
Changes in images go beyond music. Sports have also seen a shift in style.
Once upon a time, an athlete was expected to show class, sportsmanship, and manliness. Today, we see trash talking at an all time high with the sports journalists, by in large, supporting the practice. And we see a change in what makes a man… well… a man.
Maurice Richard was thrown in the box for two minutes for “looking so good.” This was during his time selling a hair product that covered grey hair. Even then, Richard took some heat for it… real men didn’t put products in their hair. If they went grey, they went grey and others would support their manhood.
Today, hair products have been overtaken by sexual enhancement drugs. Last night, I watched the home opener for the Montreal Canadiens (Ironically enough, Maurice Richard’s team). At the boards, to the right of centre… for the entire TV world to see… was a banner for Viagra. Twenty years ago, an athlete talking about needing sexual help in the form of a pill would be thrown in the corner and beaten for his weakness. This would fall under the same cloud as homosexuality in the sporting world. After all, athletes are virile men.
Have we become more tolerant when it comes to the athlete? I guess we have to a degree. But again, it falls under what’s acceptable. In the same way that we now accept trash talk and classless behaviour, we accept the fact that an athlete will endorse a product (any product) to make an extra buck. Selling Viagra is now seen as being no different than selling a Ford truck. So maybe we’ll see Wayne Gretzky jump from the automobile world to that of the bedroom… and then we’ll be in for a real treat.
Some images flat out lie. Body building is supposed to show strength and health. But the reality of it is that of supreme superficiality. Tanning beds, drugs and nutritional supplements are as key to that way of life as training. Men all strive to be black in the same way that Michael Jackson has become white and many women are expected to get their boobs done so that they can still be seen as feminine. Neither image comes off as very healthy to me.
And when you think of it, body builders once held the image of being among the most manly of all men… but some of their main concerns now are enough tanning time at the salon, shaving their bodies, and putting blonde highlights in their hair.
Talking about shaving male bodies (a topic I never thought I’d write about… and I feel slightly disturbed having written the phrase “talking about shaving male bodies”) what’s with the increased desire to shave anyway? Most men on TV have hairless chests now. Come to think of it, they have hairless legs too. Will we start seeing evening television with a heterosexual man running a razor down his leg in a bubble bath?
How is it that men who behave more and more feminine are becoming more and more desired by women? Twenty years ago, if you shaved your chest you were seen as a pansy and too worried about the superficial. Today, you’ll get the girl. It’s all quite confusing for those of us trying to “keep it real”.
It all reminds me of a Simpson’s quote. And it pretty well speaks for how I view this entire image makeover that we’re seeing in society. Grandpa Simpson put it so eloquently when he said…
“I used to be with ‘it’, but then they changed what ‘it’ was… now what I’m with isn’t ‘it’… and what’s ‘it’ is weird and scary to me.”
Bless the Simpson’s.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #239 story
A bit of a short commentary on things. A weekend of mom and dad is good but it doesn’t make for lots of writing opportunities. So I’ll get back to a more regular thing next week and be somewhat brief with this week’s story…
Thanksgiving
What makes Thanksgiving? Family for sure. I think I could go through a Thanksgiving weekend without family. It’s not like there’d have to be a suicide watch or something like that. But having family around makes it all the better.
I may not say much when they’re around and living in my space with two other people does take getting used to (since I’m alone in this space 90% of the time) but it’s a solid feeling not to have to be speaking and, in a world where interactions come with limits, it’s good to not worry about the things I say.
Leaves. A week before mom and dad arrived, the leaves began to change colour. And with the parents here, the sun shone down and the multicoloured world began to glow around us.
Of course, mom made it her mission to search out red leaves. Anything red had to be photographed. Small bushes of red would gain her attention while great forests of gold were viewed with a shrug.
Fleeces. You know when Thanksgiving is here when you can wear a fleece comfortably. Canada may be all about hockey and Tim Horton’s coffee but nothing feels more Canadian than wearing a fleece while walking through a multicoloured forest.
Turkey. It is a family tradition to eat turkey. And I know everyone eats turkey at Thanksgiving but my mother’s family goes insane on the bird. Twenty-five pound birds feed two or three people. Great mounds of Turkey carcass sit after a meal… a sign of the meals for the coming four or five days.
Naps in front of football games. It happened again this year. Me in the chair and dad laid out on the sofa. Bits of commentator dialogue reach us like a distant foghorn. It can be heard but it’s almost more a figment of imagination than an audible sound.
And when the room darkens around us, I wake, check the score… become disgusted with what I see… and tell dad to wake up and turn the channel. I walk away and see what mom is doing while dad leaves the soothing drone on as he snoozes some more.
Back home it was all about the smells. Going to my parent’s house to have a warm house wafting with aromas. And when the evening was over, I’d return to my own place and carry buckets full of leftovers.
Now it’s a gathering at my place. Bacon and coffee greet me when I go down the stairs (not that the smell of coffee does anything for me). Where Uncles Wayne and Wince would see me back home, Uncle Bill comes around here in Ottawa. And evenings are quite in my living room. A movie or some episodes of Fawlty Towers on DVD. And my parents starting to drift off prior to bedtime.
Thanksgiving is a combination of sightseeing, walking, eating and relaxing with family. In Newfoundland or Ottawa, it’s a holiday that’s all about togetherness.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #239 (week only)
A story and some pictures will come sometime on Tuesday coming. But with the folks here and busy times for the Thanksgiving weekend, all I can offer for the Sunday fill is the weekly portion of things. And, if you only get the e-mails and don’t check the blog, the pictures won’t be coming for you.
Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving and check in or expect another e-mail on Tuesday evening.
MONDAY…
--- Back is improving still but not great yet.
--- Work is alright. Work an extra hour tonight to bank some time… also, thanks to Laura, I see my first ever pink Ottawa Senator jersey. The whole team should use those… it suits the pansies.
TUESDAY…
--- Eye exam and either new glasses or laser eye surgery will soon be bought or planned.
--- Busy night at work.
--- And by the end of the night, my back is up to about 90%. I have flexibility and can walk with energy once again. Health is a thing to never take for granted.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Back is a little delicate but, by the time I go to work, pretty well 100%. I skip staff appreciation day. That means no BBQ… no staff picture… no extra long lunch… all to work my regular evening shift.
--- Greek for supper and a busy but longish night at work… but then I’m done until next Wednesday for Thanksgiving.
THURSDAY…
--- Off work… get mom and dad around 1:00… lunch, some groceries… a walk… supper… a little TV. Nice having them around but I found it weird not being at work when I’m in Ottawa. Anytime I’m off work, I usually go out of town. So it’s odd thinking of where co-workers would be at a given time and I’m not where I would be. Stupid me… I need to take more time off if this is what I think about.
FRIDAY…
--- Museum of Civilization with the folks. Two Imax movies and the Petra exhibit. Deep Sea is a good Imax movie… but Kate Winslet and Johnny Depp aren’t top notch narrators.
SATURDAY…
--- The Wakefield Steam Train ride today. Good stuff with the Fall leaves. We get lost in Quebec before getting back home though. Those roads over there… it’s a maze!
Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving and check in or expect another e-mail on Tuesday evening.
MONDAY…
--- Back is improving still but not great yet.
--- Work is alright. Work an extra hour tonight to bank some time… also, thanks to Laura, I see my first ever pink Ottawa Senator jersey. The whole team should use those… it suits the pansies.
TUESDAY…
--- Eye exam and either new glasses or laser eye surgery will soon be bought or planned.
--- Busy night at work.
--- And by the end of the night, my back is up to about 90%. I have flexibility and can walk with energy once again. Health is a thing to never take for granted.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Back is a little delicate but, by the time I go to work, pretty well 100%. I skip staff appreciation day. That means no BBQ… no staff picture… no extra long lunch… all to work my regular evening shift.
--- Greek for supper and a busy but longish night at work… but then I’m done until next Wednesday for Thanksgiving.
THURSDAY…
--- Off work… get mom and dad around 1:00… lunch, some groceries… a walk… supper… a little TV. Nice having them around but I found it weird not being at work when I’m in Ottawa. Anytime I’m off work, I usually go out of town. So it’s odd thinking of where co-workers would be at a given time and I’m not where I would be. Stupid me… I need to take more time off if this is what I think about.
FRIDAY…
--- Museum of Civilization with the folks. Two Imax movies and the Petra exhibit. Deep Sea is a good Imax movie… but Kate Winslet and Johnny Depp aren’t top notch narrators.
SATURDAY…
--- The Wakefield Steam Train ride today. Good stuff with the Fall leaves. We get lost in Quebec before getting back home though. Those roads over there… it’s a maze!
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #238
MONDAY…
--- Work is fast going… busy day. Lunch across with Melissa, Janice and Shawn. Squash is fine… not as good as last time around but okay. My hamstring was a little sore today anyway so I’m not surprised I was less effective.
TUESDAY…
--- Busy day at work… do some reading at lunch… and it’s a Woody Allen movie tonight (Scoop is pretty good).
WEDNESDAY…
--- Work is okay… but there are some people issues in my life right now and that is somewhat exhausting.
--- Prepare for the hockey pool draft on Friday… figuring the forwards is kind of hard this year.
THURSDAY…
--- Bad back all day today… slept funny or stress or fighting a cold or something. Lunch is a rare thing today… me and Kiyomi. We aren’t on same shift very often anymore.
--- Supper out with family… Ruby and Lee… my friend and their God Daughter, Melissa… and me. Nice evening.
FRIDAY…
--- Back is not doing well today. Still, I get through work and host the office hockey pool alright. I like my team, we have pretty good pizza, and it’s kind of fun having a group in the house for the evening.
SATURDAY…
--- Spent mostly on my back. It’s still very sore and I figure a day of as much rest as I can give it will help. By the end of the day it seems to be working… or it may just be the drugs kicking in. Either way, movies and some news and lots of sleep are all that happens today.
Another quick story. I’m working Sunday afternoon and was laid up trying to fix my back Saturday. So writing time has been at a premium. And for parents that may worry upon the reading… today, the back feels like it’s on the rebound. So don’t be too concerned.
Week of Pain
A week of pain. And it’s not the pain of my youth. Not the pain of playing a half dozen games of ball over two and a half days. The pain of bruises and hyper extended fingers and twisted ankles.
No, this week’s pain is that of less honour. On Sunday I hit a bucket of golf balls with my uncle Lee. We almost didn’t do it because of the wind gusts of the day. Such a defeatist attitude… a sign of the times to come.
After hitting the balls, there was the pain in my thumb. A little blistering from a lack of a golf glove.
The next day, I walk around my world with a tight and sore hamstring. I’ve had hamstring problems over the years. Running bases with explosive speed as the finely tuned pistons that are my legs chucked me around the base paths. Of course, from time to time, such a machine will develop kinks. And, by the fall of the season, it wouldn’t be uncommon for me to have to tape up my thighs in hopes of keeping my hamstrings from popping right out of the back of my pants. And many times, playing goal in the sauna heat of the summer ball hockey league, my hamstrings would cramp or strain.
But now… after an hour at the driving range and a night’s sleep, I have a sore hamstring. Simply pathetic.
Still, warrior athlete that I am, squash was played on Monday night and I took the tightness and pain and used it as motivation to play.
More problems on Wednesday. I wake in the morning and climb out of bed with tightness in my lower back. Is it a three day delay from that bloody driving range? Is it the squash of the day before yesterday? Stress? A cold? Or did I just role over funny sometime in the middle of the night? Either way… once again, it’s pathetic.
Thursday has back problems remain. And, when I’m getting the garbage and recycling ready to put out for the morning, I brush my toe off of a recycling box. Not even a hard stub… just a brush. I suppose I’ve been fighting a slight ingrown toenail. Or perhaps I’m just growing into my wimpy ways.
For the next minute, this slight brushing of my toe causes shots of pain to shoot through my foot and half way up my knee. What has happened to me? I used to play fastpitch softball and ball hockey on the same day… taking my equipment for one and leaving it in the car while playing the other. And now I have a body breakdown by driving some golf balls, playing squash, and taking out the trash all within a 96 hour timeframe.
It’s a sad state of affairs when such things beat me down. Yesterday, I slept for four or five hours through the day, trying to regain my back’s strength… and it did little. My toe has finally seemed to recover though… and my hamstring is back in piston-like order. So, I guess like the song says… two out of three ain’t bad.
--- Work is fast going… busy day. Lunch across with Melissa, Janice and Shawn. Squash is fine… not as good as last time around but okay. My hamstring was a little sore today anyway so I’m not surprised I was less effective.
TUESDAY…
--- Busy day at work… do some reading at lunch… and it’s a Woody Allen movie tonight (Scoop is pretty good).
WEDNESDAY…
--- Work is okay… but there are some people issues in my life right now and that is somewhat exhausting.
--- Prepare for the hockey pool draft on Friday… figuring the forwards is kind of hard this year.
THURSDAY…
--- Bad back all day today… slept funny or stress or fighting a cold or something. Lunch is a rare thing today… me and Kiyomi. We aren’t on same shift very often anymore.
--- Supper out with family… Ruby and Lee… my friend and their God Daughter, Melissa… and me. Nice evening.
FRIDAY…
--- Back is not doing well today. Still, I get through work and host the office hockey pool alright. I like my team, we have pretty good pizza, and it’s kind of fun having a group in the house for the evening.
SATURDAY…
--- Spent mostly on my back. It’s still very sore and I figure a day of as much rest as I can give it will help. By the end of the day it seems to be working… or it may just be the drugs kicking in. Either way, movies and some news and lots of sleep are all that happens today.
Another quick story. I’m working Sunday afternoon and was laid up trying to fix my back Saturday. So writing time has been at a premium. And for parents that may worry upon the reading… today, the back feels like it’s on the rebound. So don’t be too concerned.
Week of Pain
A week of pain. And it’s not the pain of my youth. Not the pain of playing a half dozen games of ball over two and a half days. The pain of bruises and hyper extended fingers and twisted ankles.
No, this week’s pain is that of less honour. On Sunday I hit a bucket of golf balls with my uncle Lee. We almost didn’t do it because of the wind gusts of the day. Such a defeatist attitude… a sign of the times to come.
After hitting the balls, there was the pain in my thumb. A little blistering from a lack of a golf glove.
The next day, I walk around my world with a tight and sore hamstring. I’ve had hamstring problems over the years. Running bases with explosive speed as the finely tuned pistons that are my legs chucked me around the base paths. Of course, from time to time, such a machine will develop kinks. And, by the fall of the season, it wouldn’t be uncommon for me to have to tape up my thighs in hopes of keeping my hamstrings from popping right out of the back of my pants. And many times, playing goal in the sauna heat of the summer ball hockey league, my hamstrings would cramp or strain.
But now… after an hour at the driving range and a night’s sleep, I have a sore hamstring. Simply pathetic.
Still, warrior athlete that I am, squash was played on Monday night and I took the tightness and pain and used it as motivation to play.
More problems on Wednesday. I wake in the morning and climb out of bed with tightness in my lower back. Is it a three day delay from that bloody driving range? Is it the squash of the day before yesterday? Stress? A cold? Or did I just role over funny sometime in the middle of the night? Either way… once again, it’s pathetic.
Thursday has back problems remain. And, when I’m getting the garbage and recycling ready to put out for the morning, I brush my toe off of a recycling box. Not even a hard stub… just a brush. I suppose I’ve been fighting a slight ingrown toenail. Or perhaps I’m just growing into my wimpy ways.
For the next minute, this slight brushing of my toe causes shots of pain to shoot through my foot and half way up my knee. What has happened to me? I used to play fastpitch softball and ball hockey on the same day… taking my equipment for one and leaving it in the car while playing the other. And now I have a body breakdown by driving some golf balls, playing squash, and taking out the trash all within a 96 hour timeframe.
It’s a sad state of affairs when such things beat me down. Yesterday, I slept for four or five hours through the day, trying to regain my back’s strength… and it did little. My toe has finally seemed to recover though… and my hamstring is back in piston-like order. So, I guess like the song says… two out of three ain’t bad.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #237
MONDAY…
--- Work is alright and I watch a movie or two before going in… actually, movie and a half… I see half of Walk the Line on the movie network (good flick) and then put my Friday Night Lights DVD in.
TUESDAY…
--- Work is alright. Get Greek for supper with Melissa and we pack up our stuff at the end of the evening. Tomorrow, CNI will be moved to the fourth floor of the building where we’ll stay for three weeks before another move back to a different part of the first floor. Office renovations can be a bit of a pain.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Work in the new CNI… up on the fourth floor with a good view. I’m going to get in good shape going up and down four flights of stairs. Supper is good with Melissa at Wendy’s.
THURSDAY…
--- Clean up around the house… more or less complete. Work is real busy but one of those nights when you don’t have much to show for it at the end of it all. Potluck for the team goes pretty well too.
FRIDAY…
--- Ruby and Lee arrive today. It’s good seeing them. Work is fine… supper is pizza with Melissa, Casey and Mike… and some drinks after work with a bunch of the work people.
SATURDAY…
--- Rainy day. I hang around the house… watch Raiders of the Lost Ark with Melissa, Ruby and Lee… and we all have Chinese food for supper. Pretty relaxing family day.
SUNDAY…
--- Hit the driving range with Lee. By the end I seem to have my slice under some degree of control… for now.
Fairly brief on the story this week. It’s been busy with work and visitors and now I’m fairly tired. My depth of thought or creative process is not at the forefront today… so with that…
Renovations or SOS
We’re alone among others. Well some of us are alone anyway. I live in an area with four units stacked on top of and around each other. In my segment of the building, there is an older woman next to me… a younger woman (and occasionally her boyfriend) below… a middle aged woman diagonally below me and a couple next to me on the other side… and we barely see each other.
It gets me thinking… how long would I be left helpless if I fall down the stairs and am laid out paralyzed next to my TV?
This weekend, the girl living below me has been working on installing flooring. So we’ve been hearing hammering much of the day yesterday and today. But it got me wondering… what if she was down there pounding on the floor or wall… hoping to attract attention. She’s been at it two days now and I’m not doing anything to check on her. She could be going for another week and I doubt I’d knock on the door to check on things.
My first year in this place, there was a car parked in the lot and it didn’t move. And that’s no exaggeration. For more than a year, that car was planted in its space. Dirt from snow ploughs piled up under its rear wheel. And even a bit of orange paint coated the wheel when the parking space lines were sprayed on in the Spring.
So seeing a car stuck in a lot will take at least a year before bringing people to alert status. That poor soul who never came out to their car may have spent weeks banging on walls… hoping a neighbour would come to see what’s going on.
Well, in that case, the car is now gone. So maybe they towed the old one away and bought a new one. Or maybe a neighbour began to smell something to alert that all is not right!
I’ve been picky about girlfriends. I haven’t been one to just go to whatever girl is out there… I’d rather be alone then in a relationship for the sake of relationships. I know too many bad relationships for me to want to be in that game. But now that I’ve been thinking of a home as a potential tomb, maybe a girlfriend for the sake of a girlfriend wouldn’t be so bad an idea. I may not love her but at least she’d be able to find me before the sense of smell gets involved in the location of trouble game. It brings new meaning to the “can’t live without you” phrase. Here I thought it was a matter of the heart… when in reality, it’s more about safety.
--- Work is alright and I watch a movie or two before going in… actually, movie and a half… I see half of Walk the Line on the movie network (good flick) and then put my Friday Night Lights DVD in.
TUESDAY…
--- Work is alright. Get Greek for supper with Melissa and we pack up our stuff at the end of the evening. Tomorrow, CNI will be moved to the fourth floor of the building where we’ll stay for three weeks before another move back to a different part of the first floor. Office renovations can be a bit of a pain.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Work in the new CNI… up on the fourth floor with a good view. I’m going to get in good shape going up and down four flights of stairs. Supper is good with Melissa at Wendy’s.
THURSDAY…
--- Clean up around the house… more or less complete. Work is real busy but one of those nights when you don’t have much to show for it at the end of it all. Potluck for the team goes pretty well too.
FRIDAY…
--- Ruby and Lee arrive today. It’s good seeing them. Work is fine… supper is pizza with Melissa, Casey and Mike… and some drinks after work with a bunch of the work people.
SATURDAY…
--- Rainy day. I hang around the house… watch Raiders of the Lost Ark with Melissa, Ruby and Lee… and we all have Chinese food for supper. Pretty relaxing family day.
SUNDAY…
--- Hit the driving range with Lee. By the end I seem to have my slice under some degree of control… for now.
Fairly brief on the story this week. It’s been busy with work and visitors and now I’m fairly tired. My depth of thought or creative process is not at the forefront today… so with that…
Renovations or SOS
We’re alone among others. Well some of us are alone anyway. I live in an area with four units stacked on top of and around each other. In my segment of the building, there is an older woman next to me… a younger woman (and occasionally her boyfriend) below… a middle aged woman diagonally below me and a couple next to me on the other side… and we barely see each other.
It gets me thinking… how long would I be left helpless if I fall down the stairs and am laid out paralyzed next to my TV?
This weekend, the girl living below me has been working on installing flooring. So we’ve been hearing hammering much of the day yesterday and today. But it got me wondering… what if she was down there pounding on the floor or wall… hoping to attract attention. She’s been at it two days now and I’m not doing anything to check on her. She could be going for another week and I doubt I’d knock on the door to check on things.
My first year in this place, there was a car parked in the lot and it didn’t move. And that’s no exaggeration. For more than a year, that car was planted in its space. Dirt from snow ploughs piled up under its rear wheel. And even a bit of orange paint coated the wheel when the parking space lines were sprayed on in the Spring.
So seeing a car stuck in a lot will take at least a year before bringing people to alert status. That poor soul who never came out to their car may have spent weeks banging on walls… hoping a neighbour would come to see what’s going on.
Well, in that case, the car is now gone. So maybe they towed the old one away and bought a new one. Or maybe a neighbour began to smell something to alert that all is not right!
I’ve been picky about girlfriends. I haven’t been one to just go to whatever girl is out there… I’d rather be alone then in a relationship for the sake of relationships. I know too many bad relationships for me to want to be in that game. But now that I’ve been thinking of a home as a potential tomb, maybe a girlfriend for the sake of a girlfriend wouldn’t be so bad an idea. I may not love her but at least she’d be able to find me before the sense of smell gets involved in the location of trouble game. It brings new meaning to the “can’t live without you” phrase. Here I thought it was a matter of the heart… when in reality, it’s more about safety.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #236
MONDAY…
--- Pretty busy day at work… a little post work nap… and squash tonight. I’m not in great shape but things will improve as the games go on… I hope.
TUESDAY…
--- Not too busy a day. Lunch with Leslie and Melissa is good today. Get a few groceries after work.
--- An evening walk has me avoiding the frogs around the pond. Fairly nice though.
WEDNESDAY…
--- A few things going on at work take me from the daily routine… which is good. I’m not feeling great today though… sort of run down and a little out of sorts.
THURSDAY…
--- Not a great day at work… busy and some people stuff to deal with.
--- Squash is good tonight though… I’m starting to get my share of wins.
FRIDAY...
--- Another not super day at work but it’s largely the same as yesterday minus the busy. I leave at 11:00 and head home for a bike ride, some e-mails, and lunch.
--- Supper is Subway and I see the Deer Hunter for the first time tonight. It’s long but good.
SATURDAY…
--- Up a bit early… for a Saturday anyway… and watch The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe on the movie network. It’s alright.
--- Talk to the folks and Melissa on the phone… spend most of the day in and around the sofa… decompressing.
Why Hibernate
Would I like to write funny today? Sure I would. I get a kick out of writing things that I think may make someone smile or laugh… and I get another kick out of being told such things have happened.
But sometimes it seems that the only things I’m inspired to write about are serious matters… or things that just bog a spirit down.
These days I’m tired. I’m tired of all the useless things that surround the world I live in and, for some bizarre reason, are seen as important.
I’m tired of the fact that the internet is one of the most useful tools ever created for society but that the most common e-mails I receive are advertisements from strangers for such things as online university degrees, banking, and ways to improve my sex life. I swear, when 90% of the e-mails I receive are of this manner, I openly wonder if I even want to continue getting e-mail.
I’m tired of the telephone and mail. Both of these methods of communication are following directly in the path of the e-mails I have already mentioned. More than half of the phone calls I receive are from strangers wanting to get money from my for charity, sell me some product, or ask my opinion about something. Too often I hang up a phone before ever hearing a sound on the other end of the line. And postal carriers have become little more than flyer deliverers. The current state of the postal service has made a mockery of the proud slogan of how neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow shall interrupt the mail. This is a group that needed communal boxes to deposit letters in (rather than bringing them to my door) and, to tell you the truth, I’d be much happier if the mail were interrupted from time to time if 80% of what I pull out of that box is a menu for the pizza joint a few blocks away.
I’m tired of chest thumpers and loud talkers. Of the people who feel they must win every discussion as if it were some War on Opinions. Too many people that I have dealt with feel like if they can say the most in the most definite terms, they must also be right. They see listening and pondering of ideas as weakness and I get to a point where I can barely tolerate dealing with it anymore.
I’m tired of not knowing what goes through the minds of my friends. I should qualify this… I have several good friends who I feel I know inside and out. I think they know me and they are willing to tell me their actual feelings on a matter. But I also know people who I think are friends, but I can never be totally sure. One day things seem totally fine between me and them… I feel like I know where I stand in their world and things are solid. And the next day it feels as though I was just through a major fight with them… a fight where you make up and agree things are fine but there remains an awkwardness in your dealings with each other. I just don’t want to deal with friends after our imaginary fights. Friendships aren’t supposed to be this way. This ties in to another thing I’m tired of…
When did open communication become a wrong thing? I’m tired of dealing with people who seem to get offended by openness. You’ve crossed some line of decency if you say what you really feel. I deal with too many people who feel we must hide truth from each other and share niceties that mean nothing.
I’m tired of catchphrase politics. Where complex issues are boiled down to “you’re with us or against us”. Where speaking against the WAR ON TERROR is like speaking against God Almighty. Where “support our troops” is said in a tone that’s meant to suggest there should be no more discussion on the matter.
I’m tired of having to include everyone I know in every event that goes on. I can no longer go to supper with a friend at work because that will insult other people… so a group of ten have to go in order for everybody to be happy. Workplace suppers have become such a production that I just find myself refusing to be a part of them. The last time pizza was ordered in my office, I was told I could be in on it as long as I went together with a group of others who were getting a deluxe. My desires for a Hawaiian pizza meant nothing… it would screw up life for the greater good in the complex world of food ordering… so I just threw up my hands and said “I’ll just eat my sandwich.”
I mean just think about it… we live in a world where people over simplify the justification of going to war and make the ordering of a pizza incredibly complex. Now that’s backwards.
I’m tired of TV commercials. Like with the phone, mail and e-mail, we are constantly bombarded on TV with pitches to sell us junk. The most important issue in too many lives is getting a good deal on something.
I’m tired of the drama created to sell news. Reporting a story isn’t enough… newscasters don’t want to give us a story, they want to give us emotion. They’d rather show footage of an angry and crying parent being quoted as saying they want the murderer of their child to die and burn in hell than actually try to understand the events of a story and inform people objectively. And why the public needs to know that the girl, who was killed in Montreal this week, was shot nine times is beyond me.
Needless to say, it’s been a tiring week. I’ve dealt with too much silliness and let my mind be too occupied with some of that silliness. Times like these are why I give myself weekends of hibernation. Weekends when I don’t make any plans to do anything with anybody. I went for a bike ride after work on Friday and that helped. I had some real e-mails with friends and that helped too. And a phone call or two with people who are grounded and know what really matters is welcome… cause at least then I know that it isn’t the whole world that has gone insane.
--- Pretty busy day at work… a little post work nap… and squash tonight. I’m not in great shape but things will improve as the games go on… I hope.
TUESDAY…
--- Not too busy a day. Lunch with Leslie and Melissa is good today. Get a few groceries after work.
--- An evening walk has me avoiding the frogs around the pond. Fairly nice though.
WEDNESDAY…
--- A few things going on at work take me from the daily routine… which is good. I’m not feeling great today though… sort of run down and a little out of sorts.
THURSDAY…
--- Not a great day at work… busy and some people stuff to deal with.
--- Squash is good tonight though… I’m starting to get my share of wins.
FRIDAY...
--- Another not super day at work but it’s largely the same as yesterday minus the busy. I leave at 11:00 and head home for a bike ride, some e-mails, and lunch.
--- Supper is Subway and I see the Deer Hunter for the first time tonight. It’s long but good.
SATURDAY…
--- Up a bit early… for a Saturday anyway… and watch The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe on the movie network. It’s alright.
--- Talk to the folks and Melissa on the phone… spend most of the day in and around the sofa… decompressing.
Why Hibernate
Would I like to write funny today? Sure I would. I get a kick out of writing things that I think may make someone smile or laugh… and I get another kick out of being told such things have happened.
But sometimes it seems that the only things I’m inspired to write about are serious matters… or things that just bog a spirit down.
These days I’m tired. I’m tired of all the useless things that surround the world I live in and, for some bizarre reason, are seen as important.
I’m tired of the fact that the internet is one of the most useful tools ever created for society but that the most common e-mails I receive are advertisements from strangers for such things as online university degrees, banking, and ways to improve my sex life. I swear, when 90% of the e-mails I receive are of this manner, I openly wonder if I even want to continue getting e-mail.
I’m tired of the telephone and mail. Both of these methods of communication are following directly in the path of the e-mails I have already mentioned. More than half of the phone calls I receive are from strangers wanting to get money from my for charity, sell me some product, or ask my opinion about something. Too often I hang up a phone before ever hearing a sound on the other end of the line. And postal carriers have become little more than flyer deliverers. The current state of the postal service has made a mockery of the proud slogan of how neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow shall interrupt the mail. This is a group that needed communal boxes to deposit letters in (rather than bringing them to my door) and, to tell you the truth, I’d be much happier if the mail were interrupted from time to time if 80% of what I pull out of that box is a menu for the pizza joint a few blocks away.
I’m tired of chest thumpers and loud talkers. Of the people who feel they must win every discussion as if it were some War on Opinions. Too many people that I have dealt with feel like if they can say the most in the most definite terms, they must also be right. They see listening and pondering of ideas as weakness and I get to a point where I can barely tolerate dealing with it anymore.
I’m tired of not knowing what goes through the minds of my friends. I should qualify this… I have several good friends who I feel I know inside and out. I think they know me and they are willing to tell me their actual feelings on a matter. But I also know people who I think are friends, but I can never be totally sure. One day things seem totally fine between me and them… I feel like I know where I stand in their world and things are solid. And the next day it feels as though I was just through a major fight with them… a fight where you make up and agree things are fine but there remains an awkwardness in your dealings with each other. I just don’t want to deal with friends after our imaginary fights. Friendships aren’t supposed to be this way. This ties in to another thing I’m tired of…
When did open communication become a wrong thing? I’m tired of dealing with people who seem to get offended by openness. You’ve crossed some line of decency if you say what you really feel. I deal with too many people who feel we must hide truth from each other and share niceties that mean nothing.
I’m tired of catchphrase politics. Where complex issues are boiled down to “you’re with us or against us”. Where speaking against the WAR ON TERROR is like speaking against God Almighty. Where “support our troops” is said in a tone that’s meant to suggest there should be no more discussion on the matter.
I’m tired of having to include everyone I know in every event that goes on. I can no longer go to supper with a friend at work because that will insult other people… so a group of ten have to go in order for everybody to be happy. Workplace suppers have become such a production that I just find myself refusing to be a part of them. The last time pizza was ordered in my office, I was told I could be in on it as long as I went together with a group of others who were getting a deluxe. My desires for a Hawaiian pizza meant nothing… it would screw up life for the greater good in the complex world of food ordering… so I just threw up my hands and said “I’ll just eat my sandwich.”
I mean just think about it… we live in a world where people over simplify the justification of going to war and make the ordering of a pizza incredibly complex. Now that’s backwards.
I’m tired of TV commercials. Like with the phone, mail and e-mail, we are constantly bombarded on TV with pitches to sell us junk. The most important issue in too many lives is getting a good deal on something.
I’m tired of the drama created to sell news. Reporting a story isn’t enough… newscasters don’t want to give us a story, they want to give us emotion. They’d rather show footage of an angry and crying parent being quoted as saying they want the murderer of their child to die and burn in hell than actually try to understand the events of a story and inform people objectively. And why the public needs to know that the girl, who was killed in Montreal this week, was shot nine times is beyond me.
Needless to say, it’s been a tiring week. I’ve dealt with too much silliness and let my mind be too occupied with some of that silliness. Times like these are why I give myself weekends of hibernation. Weekends when I don’t make any plans to do anything with anybody. I went for a bike ride after work on Friday and that helped. I had some real e-mails with friends and that helped too. And a phone call or two with people who are grounded and know what really matters is welcome… cause at least then I know that it isn’t the whole world that has gone insane.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Salmonier Nature Park
A couple of pictures from the Nature Park outside of St. John's. Unfortunately for the animal lovers, the best pictures were void of life! Above, we have a river running through the park. You can see some boardwalk to the right and a touch more in the distance to the left.Below is another river that cuts through the forest. This one flows right under the boardwalk.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #235
Put your feet up and relax as summer quickly comes to an end. A last round of golf with friends and other thoughts from the week gone by...MONDAY…
--- Quiet day around the house. I was thinking baseball (last Lynx game of the year) and also of the balloon festival. But the weather is grey and iffy today and I just sit around, watch the Jays on TV, and catch a movie or two… plus a nap.
--- Night time walk is nice.
TUESDAY…
--- Busy day at work and I stay late too. So it’s midnight before I pack up and I end up running in to and chatting with Mark and Bill until close to 1:00.
WEDNESDAY…
--- A morning movie… work is busy with four meetings and I stay on until midnight again.
--- Home and book my ticket for Christmas. It cost more than last year but I can also stay longer… three days of leave give me nine days home for the holidays. Not bad.
--- Mom and dad are booked to be here for Thanksgiving. So Air Canada did well off of us today.
THURSDAY…
--- Busy day. In early for a luncheon… so I work 11:30 to 7:30… although I stay an extra couple of hours too. Meetings now done with my team. It made for a long week.
FRIDAY…
--- Up early. Going from evening shift to day in mid week isn’t usually good for me with sleep. So at 4:20, I’m up for good.
--- Work until 9:15 today and then it’s the office golf tournament. Laura, Leslie and Linda are my team mates and they all do more to help the team than I do. Playing off the men’s tees don’t help me on this course as, for some holes, it added a good hundred yards to my drives compared to them… but Laura would have kicked my butt either way and today, it’s all fun among the team anyway.
SATURDAY…
--- Quiet day around the house. A few movies and some news on TV. Plus some naps… catching up on the missed sleep of Thursday and Friday.
Some Thoughts as Summer Ends
I’ve got nothing today. Too much going on and none that I particularly want to devote an hour or so to covering… so a little bit of a mixed bag today.
The office golf tournament happened Friday. This is my favourite office event and really, only one of two that I have any degree of enjoyment doing (The curling was okay too). This year, the weather was great and the course was quite nice to look at. And history was made for me personally… in my fourth RCMP tournament, this is the first time that I played with another person for a second time (Laura being the answer to that exciting bit of trivia).
But this course hurts my game in a pretty big way. My best golf shots are either from the fairway, about two hundred yards out… or within one hundred yards of the pin. I’m inconsistent off the tee and down right bad if I’m a hundred and fifty yards away (and needing to choose between my five and seven irons). Well this course had narrow tee shots and lots of times when I found myself one hundred and fifty yards out.
Still, despite my awfulness, it was a fun time.
The anniversary of Sept. 11 is fast approaching. There’s not much needs saying about this. It’s still a vivid memory when I spent some 17 hours glued to my TV in the loft of my St. John’s house. I do think back and wonder if I should have walked down to Mile One Stadium and offered my home to a family of stranded passengers on that day.
And rather than bringing those responsible to justice and acting as a jumping off point for the western world to learn how our foreign policies have alienated others we see conspiracy theories and nauseating repetition of “they hate us because we’re free”. Bush’s administration has been strong arming the world ever since Sept. 11 and feeding us slogans rather than reality. And Canada decided to elect a government that was just chomping at the bit, waiting to join in with the “they hate us because we’re free” garbage too.
The most that has come from the terrorist attacks of five years ago was the removal of a dictator that had nothing to do with it.
On a personal level, September 11th has had a gigantic effect on me. Had the events of that day never happened, I’d likely still be living in Newfoundland doing who knows what. The increased desire for security is what started the RCMP’s hiring process and the rest is history.
It always strikes me how interconnected the world is. Saudi terrorists based in Afghanistan took planes from Boston and crashed them into buildings in New York and Washington… and this influences me moving from St. John’s to Ottawa and working in a field I barely ever thought about previously. I have many Ottawa acquaintances and some friends… all of whom I’d never have gotten to know at all had September 11th, 2001 gone the same way as September 10th did.
The Crocodile Hunter dies this week. Steve Irwin was a likable fellow that anyone who watches more than twenty minutes of TV a day would recognize. Of course CNN made his death out to be some vile attack by the deadly and threatening sting ray population of the world. They went on for days about the Sting Ray Attack! It’s laughably predictable how 24 hour news networks distort the facts of life. The reality is, Irwin died of a one in a million accident. A startled sting ray will strike defensively and, on the rare occasion when such a strike occurs, it’s barb hits a leg or arm and you’re in lots of pain but your life isn’t in danger. By simple bad luck, Irwin took the barb in the heart and nothing could be done.
Still, CNN decides this is a good time to ask the question “Are we safe to go into the water!” For 24 hour news agencies, every event is their next Sept. 11th. And that’s just sad.
I end things with thoughts of travel. Mom and dad are all booked for Thanksgiving in Ottawa. This has become a tradition with us ever since my move here and it makes Thanksgiving one of my more favourite holidays now. We’ve already booked our steam train ride that will take us into the small Quebec town of Wakefield. And we’ve begun planning a few other things to do at the Museum of Civilization. Plus I’m sure we’ll be down in the Byward Market to pick up the vegetables and dessert that’ll go with mom’s turkey. Less than a month and this will all have happened and be done… time goes by so fast.
Also this week, after Canjet went belly up, I decided I better hurry up and book my Christmas trip home. So I’ll be there for a nine day period (much more than the four or five days of last year) and hopefully I’ll be able to find some of that magical time of St. John’s. Being with family and friends is great but I do admit to missing the alone time in my home city. It’s the quiet, night time walks alone downtown that inspire. And times at Cape Spear when you walk where you will and hear nothing but crashing waves or the wind meeting the land… these times have become rare for me now that I live in Ontario. It’s not that I don’t like sharing these things with others… and if I only have the time to do it once while I’m home, I’d pick to go with mom and dad rather than alone. But the times alone are special too.
Monday, September 04, 2006
More of the summer trip home
Two pictures today... The first is from Brigus. I think a yacht trip around the island would be quite the event. The second is "Pop's Place" in Placentia. I don't know who "Pop" is but he's got quite the place. You can only get there by boat... you can see a hammock to the left of the Canadian flag... and Pop himself is at the door, probably wondering why someone is taking his picture. (click images to enlarge).
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #234
MONDAY…
--- Work is alright… go for a bike ride afterwards and make some spaghetti for supper. A few e-mails end the night.
TUESDAY…
--- Alright day at work and a nap when I get home.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Really busy at work. I’m not very busy at all until about 9:00 but from then on it’s go time right until about 2:30. Makes the day go by fast though. Lunch is good too with lasagna at HQ with Leslie and Melissa.
--- After work drinks and a snack at the bar nearest me.
THURSDAY…
--- Kind of busy at work and it’s pizza day so we get extra time off to line up and get it.
--- After work I go to the movies with Melissa. The Mayfair has “An Inconvenient Truth” and it’s good… well done and makes you think.
FRIDAY…
--- Busy day again today. Lunch with Leslie and Melissa is good… Laura cracks me up once or twice… I have a few quick e-mails with Jim when I get home… and then watch a movie on the movie network. Derailed is alright… Clive Owen is good and Jennifer Aniston is doing about as much as she can.
SATURDAY…
--- Wedding day. I go to Carole’s wedding with Kiyomi. It’s fine as far as weddings go and it’s fun hanging out with Kiyomi… good roast beef too.
Public Torture Chambers
So I have come to a conclusion. It has taken years of research to figure it out but last night swayed my opinion to one very important statement. Public washrooms are to be avoided at all costs!
Sure I’ve been in baseball stadium washrooms. They feel like you’ve just stepped into a room of infinite pee. Like every wall and spot of the floor has, within the last two hours, been coated with urine.
But last night was the final straw. The washroom at Carole’s wedding was clean enough. There was nothing obscene going on in there either. But I found myself standing perplexed at the door of a stall wondering if I would have to crawl out from underneath the locked door.
The first time in there, I made the mistake of pulling the lock latch across, while also flipping the little handle part down (for extra security). The problem with this is the fact that, once dropped into the mega lock position, the latch froze tightly. Latch riggormortis set in.
So when I was ready to exit the stall, I had to try to tear my fingers apart, digging that jagged little latch into my flesh in the hopes of gaining a good enough grip to free myself from my toilet tomb.
Finally, desperate, I took my key out of my pocket and pried it between the metal and wood of the door. A muscled twitch of my wrist popped the lock and enabled me to slide it open. I ran from the stall and towards freedom… with a stop at the sink to wash my hands of course.
A second journey into the room came an hour or so later. Truth be told, I was feeling nervous about it. I was tempted to head outside, venture out into a farmers field and find myself a bush.
But the decision was to push the metal bar across yet not to drop the bolt down. Surly I’d be able to escape without the need of a lever this time.
There would be a price to pay for such a plan. And that price was paid in blood.
The metal slide stuck in the open position this time and, with my tug to get it moving, my hand slips off and my finger slices across the protruding handle. A bubble of blood wells up out of the divot just above my top knuckle of my pointer finger.
So I’m using the washroom while attempting to stem the bleeding. All while others enter and leave the room, seemingly with total ease.
I get the door open again without any aid. But I’m defeated and go to the sink while watching my wound well up again. Washed up, all that’s left is the paper towel… how hard can that be?
Well, with an audience of the father of the bride, my pushes on the towel dispenser yield minute amounts of paper. Five or six pushes, either done with quick force or with a slow and patient compression, only give me a few centimetres of towel. I pluck at it and try to tear off all I can… hoping to manage to pull more out from within the dispenser.
It isn’t to be. I dry my hands with torn squares of brown paper and push it into the trash with Mr. McKay proclaiming “They don’t make it easy do they?”
I laugh wearily and agree before exiting the torturous world of bladder relief. I make up my mind right there and then that my next trip to the washroom will be when I return to my own house. At least there I’ll be confident to find relief without bloodshed.
--- Work is alright… go for a bike ride afterwards and make some spaghetti for supper. A few e-mails end the night.
TUESDAY…
--- Alright day at work and a nap when I get home.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Really busy at work. I’m not very busy at all until about 9:00 but from then on it’s go time right until about 2:30. Makes the day go by fast though. Lunch is good too with lasagna at HQ with Leslie and Melissa.
--- After work drinks and a snack at the bar nearest me.
THURSDAY…
--- Kind of busy at work and it’s pizza day so we get extra time off to line up and get it.
--- After work I go to the movies with Melissa. The Mayfair has “An Inconvenient Truth” and it’s good… well done and makes you think.
FRIDAY…
--- Busy day again today. Lunch with Leslie and Melissa is good… Laura cracks me up once or twice… I have a few quick e-mails with Jim when I get home… and then watch a movie on the movie network. Derailed is alright… Clive Owen is good and Jennifer Aniston is doing about as much as she can.
SATURDAY…
--- Wedding day. I go to Carole’s wedding with Kiyomi. It’s fine as far as weddings go and it’s fun hanging out with Kiyomi… good roast beef too.
Public Torture Chambers
So I have come to a conclusion. It has taken years of research to figure it out but last night swayed my opinion to one very important statement. Public washrooms are to be avoided at all costs!
Sure I’ve been in baseball stadium washrooms. They feel like you’ve just stepped into a room of infinite pee. Like every wall and spot of the floor has, within the last two hours, been coated with urine.
But last night was the final straw. The washroom at Carole’s wedding was clean enough. There was nothing obscene going on in there either. But I found myself standing perplexed at the door of a stall wondering if I would have to crawl out from underneath the locked door.
The first time in there, I made the mistake of pulling the lock latch across, while also flipping the little handle part down (for extra security). The problem with this is the fact that, once dropped into the mega lock position, the latch froze tightly. Latch riggormortis set in.
So when I was ready to exit the stall, I had to try to tear my fingers apart, digging that jagged little latch into my flesh in the hopes of gaining a good enough grip to free myself from my toilet tomb.
Finally, desperate, I took my key out of my pocket and pried it between the metal and wood of the door. A muscled twitch of my wrist popped the lock and enabled me to slide it open. I ran from the stall and towards freedom… with a stop at the sink to wash my hands of course.
A second journey into the room came an hour or so later. Truth be told, I was feeling nervous about it. I was tempted to head outside, venture out into a farmers field and find myself a bush.
But the decision was to push the metal bar across yet not to drop the bolt down. Surly I’d be able to escape without the need of a lever this time.
There would be a price to pay for such a plan. And that price was paid in blood.
The metal slide stuck in the open position this time and, with my tug to get it moving, my hand slips off and my finger slices across the protruding handle. A bubble of blood wells up out of the divot just above my top knuckle of my pointer finger.
So I’m using the washroom while attempting to stem the bleeding. All while others enter and leave the room, seemingly with total ease.
I get the door open again without any aid. But I’m defeated and go to the sink while watching my wound well up again. Washed up, all that’s left is the paper towel… how hard can that be?
Well, with an audience of the father of the bride, my pushes on the towel dispenser yield minute amounts of paper. Five or six pushes, either done with quick force or with a slow and patient compression, only give me a few centimetres of towel. I pluck at it and try to tear off all I can… hoping to manage to pull more out from within the dispenser.
It isn’t to be. I dry my hands with torn squares of brown paper and push it into the trash with Mr. McKay proclaiming “They don’t make it easy do they?”
I laugh wearily and agree before exiting the torturous world of bladder relief. I make up my mind right there and then that my next trip to the washroom will be when I return to my own house. At least there I’ll be confident to find relief without bloodshed.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Making It Up As I Go Along #233
MONDAY…
--- Bike day. I pick up my bike that I bought yesterday. My first bike in 18 years… should be fun.
--- Work is fine with walks at each break and lunch outside with Laura, Louis and Sandra.
--- Hour walk at home after work.
TUESDAY…
--- Walks at breaks… a sandwich for supper… not a real heavy workload tonight.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Not a real good day. Lots of serious or conflict talk both at work and away. It was generally handled well all around but I’m not sure if it will be something that everyone will be satisfied with in the end… at least the work stuff. The out of work stuff doesn’t involve me. BLAH to all of it… today’s a day I should have stayed in bed and not answered the phone.
THURSDAY…
--- Work is normal. I head to Wendy’s with Mike and meet Bill and his son there for supper. After work, I do an hour long walk of the neighbourhood.
FRIDAY…
--- Nick, Louis and I on evening shift… busy evening but not too bad. Chip Wagon for supper… the driving range before work with Atlas and Laura… a few drinks after work with Nick, Louis, Sheila and Isaac.
SATURDAY…
--- Have my first game of catch in two years. I go to Shannon’s and we grab the baseball… it feels good and, even though I don’t try much that’s very strenuous or tricky, my shoulder feels great doing it.
--- Dick’s Diner is followed by picking up Shannon’s friend, Ian, and going to the Lynx baseball game. Good game that they win, 9-0. In the game, I see my first ever live Grand Slam home run.
Popping an Eye
There’s nothing more relaxing than a late summer evening at a minor league baseball stadium.
After a meal of burgers and onion rings, Shannon and I pick up his friend, Ian, and head out to see a Lynx game. Tonight, they’re playing Toronto’s AAA team (Syracuse). We park at my office. It beats the $3 fee of the lot and is much less hectic trying to get out of once the game is done.
So we do the five minute walk from my office to the stadium and come upon a horde of people trying to get baseball tickets at the last minute. The game has already started and we’re not in the mood for the back of this line… so we wander over to the sidewalk outside of left field, and we watch an inning and a half through the chain link fence. The grass of the outfield shines green with the low sun. The sound of pitched balls hitting the catcher’s glove echoes to us an instant after the strike. Pulses drop with the ease of summer.
After that inning and a half, we head back to the ticket booth and get our tickets without any line. We grab three beers and head to our section, ready to grab whatever seats are most deserted of surrounding fans. After all, in a stadium that’s one third full on the best of nights, why would you restrict yourself to the seats you purchased only to be crammed in next to some family of four throwing popcorn at each other.
So we walk through the tunnel from the concourse to the openness of the field. I always like going from inside a baseball stadium to the outside of the field and seats. It’s like opening a door to activity and it takes the senses a few moments to take it all in.
We pick our seats and I put my beer down to get my glasses case and exchange my sunglasses for the regular ones. However, upon opening, I see that a lens has popped out… a screw is missing.
I am not shocked by this, it has happened before, so I poke through the case to get the screw out and twist it back in place. It isn’t there. I stand up again and search my pockets… perhaps the screw got out of the case. Not there either. A search about the ground proves fruitless as well.
Not to panic, with Shannon’s longer fingernails (there’s an advantage to not picking your nails) he’s able to remove one of the screws from my sunglasses. We’ll just transplant the screw to my regular specs and it’s ball watching time… a small ‘tink’ of metal on concrete followed by a searching lean forward of Shannon tells me plan “B” is hitting a snag. Another screw is gone.
The woman in front of us hears our commotion and searches the dusty concrete at her feet… but the screw is gone. Another half inning goes by with me only glancing at blurry ball players on the field as I see a fuzzy white ball getting tossed around by faceless fielders.
It’s off to the emergency response people I go. They calmly treat my injured glasses with some medical tape… I can watch the game now in geeky serenity. I’m a pocket protector away from a high school beating.
Through the rest of the game, I sit as still as possible… not wanting to risk the tape job and have my lens drop to it’s concrete demise next to the two screws from two pairs of glasses.
But the tape holds… a grand slam is witnessed and the pulse rate finally does drop back to baseball viewing levels as I slump into my seat.
An eighth inning trip to the washrooms isn’t worth mention… but the return through the tunnel to the field is noteworthy. Where walking through the door to activity takes the senses a few moments during the daylight hours, it can take your breath away completely during the darkness of night.
It truly is the light at the end of the tunnel. You walk out of the darkness and into the light. People mill about the walkways… they’re chatting in seats on a calm summer night... and the field glows. Infield dirt is dark and rich and the grass looks like a field of ivy. Players are performers under spotlights. With two good lenses, I can see them playing with relaxed concentration on their faces. The crack of the bat shoots the ball towards the shortstop… a crisp two hopper that’s transferred from glove to hand in a flash and thrown to first for the out.
I return to my seat for one last inning of summer tranquillity.
--- Bike day. I pick up my bike that I bought yesterday. My first bike in 18 years… should be fun.
--- Work is fine with walks at each break and lunch outside with Laura, Louis and Sandra.
--- Hour walk at home after work.
TUESDAY…
--- Walks at breaks… a sandwich for supper… not a real heavy workload tonight.
WEDNESDAY…
--- Not a real good day. Lots of serious or conflict talk both at work and away. It was generally handled well all around but I’m not sure if it will be something that everyone will be satisfied with in the end… at least the work stuff. The out of work stuff doesn’t involve me. BLAH to all of it… today’s a day I should have stayed in bed and not answered the phone.
THURSDAY…
--- Work is normal. I head to Wendy’s with Mike and meet Bill and his son there for supper. After work, I do an hour long walk of the neighbourhood.
FRIDAY…
--- Nick, Louis and I on evening shift… busy evening but not too bad. Chip Wagon for supper… the driving range before work with Atlas and Laura… a few drinks after work with Nick, Louis, Sheila and Isaac.
SATURDAY…
--- Have my first game of catch in two years. I go to Shannon’s and we grab the baseball… it feels good and, even though I don’t try much that’s very strenuous or tricky, my shoulder feels great doing it.
--- Dick’s Diner is followed by picking up Shannon’s friend, Ian, and going to the Lynx baseball game. Good game that they win, 9-0. In the game, I see my first ever live Grand Slam home run.
Popping an Eye
There’s nothing more relaxing than a late summer evening at a minor league baseball stadium.
After a meal of burgers and onion rings, Shannon and I pick up his friend, Ian, and head out to see a Lynx game. Tonight, they’re playing Toronto’s AAA team (Syracuse). We park at my office. It beats the $3 fee of the lot and is much less hectic trying to get out of once the game is done.
So we do the five minute walk from my office to the stadium and come upon a horde of people trying to get baseball tickets at the last minute. The game has already started and we’re not in the mood for the back of this line… so we wander over to the sidewalk outside of left field, and we watch an inning and a half through the chain link fence. The grass of the outfield shines green with the low sun. The sound of pitched balls hitting the catcher’s glove echoes to us an instant after the strike. Pulses drop with the ease of summer.
After that inning and a half, we head back to the ticket booth and get our tickets without any line. We grab three beers and head to our section, ready to grab whatever seats are most deserted of surrounding fans. After all, in a stadium that’s one third full on the best of nights, why would you restrict yourself to the seats you purchased only to be crammed in next to some family of four throwing popcorn at each other.
So we walk through the tunnel from the concourse to the openness of the field. I always like going from inside a baseball stadium to the outside of the field and seats. It’s like opening a door to activity and it takes the senses a few moments to take it all in.
We pick our seats and I put my beer down to get my glasses case and exchange my sunglasses for the regular ones. However, upon opening, I see that a lens has popped out… a screw is missing.
I am not shocked by this, it has happened before, so I poke through the case to get the screw out and twist it back in place. It isn’t there. I stand up again and search my pockets… perhaps the screw got out of the case. Not there either. A search about the ground proves fruitless as well.
Not to panic, with Shannon’s longer fingernails (there’s an advantage to not picking your nails) he’s able to remove one of the screws from my sunglasses. We’ll just transplant the screw to my regular specs and it’s ball watching time… a small ‘tink’ of metal on concrete followed by a searching lean forward of Shannon tells me plan “B” is hitting a snag. Another screw is gone.
The woman in front of us hears our commotion and searches the dusty concrete at her feet… but the screw is gone. Another half inning goes by with me only glancing at blurry ball players on the field as I see a fuzzy white ball getting tossed around by faceless fielders.
It’s off to the emergency response people I go. They calmly treat my injured glasses with some medical tape… I can watch the game now in geeky serenity. I’m a pocket protector away from a high school beating.
Through the rest of the game, I sit as still as possible… not wanting to risk the tape job and have my lens drop to it’s concrete demise next to the two screws from two pairs of glasses.
But the tape holds… a grand slam is witnessed and the pulse rate finally does drop back to baseball viewing levels as I slump into my seat.
An eighth inning trip to the washrooms isn’t worth mention… but the return through the tunnel to the field is noteworthy. Where walking through the door to activity takes the senses a few moments during the daylight hours, it can take your breath away completely during the darkness of night.
It truly is the light at the end of the tunnel. You walk out of the darkness and into the light. People mill about the walkways… they’re chatting in seats on a calm summer night... and the field glows. Infield dirt is dark and rich and the grass looks like a field of ivy. Players are performers under spotlights. With two good lenses, I can see them playing with relaxed concentration on their faces. The crack of the bat shoots the ball towards the shortstop… a crisp two hopper that’s transferred from glove to hand in a flash and thrown to first for the out.
I return to my seat for one last inning of summer tranquillity.
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