Some things to note over the past week or so...
I have little reason to be a National Hockey League fan...
Gary Bettman is the biggest liar in pro sports (narrowly beating out Blue Jays GM JP Riccardi). Bettman once claimed that the NHL was not financially supporting the Phoenix Coyotes. Less than six months later, he claims that the owner of the team can not put them up for bankruptcy because the league has been paying the bills.
Paul Kelly is fired as the players association boss. Kelly isn’t confrontational enough. The players are doing quite fine in today’s economy, yet greed and power hungry morons have done enough to lead the great majority of players (who pay no attention to their union) away from a civil and reasonable leader. Eric Lindros and Buzz Hargrove are here to call the shots. The next strike/lock out will soon be upon us... 2011, here we come.
The Shoot out. Gimmick.
Southern Ontario is the greatest hockey market on earth but we have one team covering that zone while New York City has three teams within walking distance, Los Angeles has two teams, and even the state of Florida is equal to the province of Ontario with two teams a piece. All that said, with talk of moving the Phoenix franchise, rather than putting another team into one of the few markets that want hockey and don’t get enough of it, the league would rather look at Kansas City or Vegas. This is the only sports league in the world whose goal it is to keep franchises away from markets that desperately want them.
The Toronto Maple Leafs are the most greedy sports franchise on earth. Where the New York Yankees work for their money (building connections with other sporting franchises and owning it’s own television network). The Maple Leafs fight the idea of a hockey team in Hamilton because that would infringe upon their market. With an attitude like that, it’s no wonder the team hasn’t won a championship in more than forty years.
Indeed, there are few reasons why I should be a hockey fan. I have to overlook way more of the disgusting than I have wonderful things to draw me in. It’s sad.
Broken thumbs and Soy Sauce packets don’t mix...
It was an epic battle when I recently bought Chinese food and tried to zest up my rice. In the end, scissors were needed and I felt like I cheated by calling in relief to get through the fight.
Without babies and drunks, Facebook would not exist...
New privacy laws are being adopted by Facebook after it learns the site breaks Canadian privacy laws. But it seems a large portion of the population on this site could care less about privacy. And it goes from one extreme to the other. Pictures of babies, all pure and innocent, are sprawled across the pages of millions of Facebookers. Sometimes it seems as though you’re actually a Facebook friend with a toddler rather than a co-worker. Then, on the other extreme, drunken parties are no longer private. Back in the day, you could wretch over the side of a cabin deck with minimal intrusion. Today, such an incident makes it’s way to the World Wide Web.
I understand the baby pictures. I may be somewhat overwhelmed by them sometimes. When I see six friends online and five of them have pictures of six month olds as their profile pic, I tend to wonder if I’m in the wrong place. But I can’t understand why people regularly want to show off the fact that they may indeed have an alcohol problem. To have a somewhat crazy picture of yourself there once in a while, or to occasionally post status reports about how you’re feeling a bit under the weather due to tying one on the night before... that’s acceptable. But when the drunk status report comes up weekly and when pictures are regularly showing you licking a stranger’s face at the bar... maybe you’re sharing a little too much.
Slowpitch Softball can be exciting after all... huh...
See the MONDAY & TUESDAY status below.
The furnace comes on August 29...
I’m actually a believer of Global Warming. And I can understand how the general warming of the globe can cause cooler weather in given locales. But still, hitting the heat before you’re out of August is a hard thing to do. Yes it can happen in Newfoundland, with it’s sea breezes and the like. But in Ottawa? A depressing day this was.
MONDAY & TUESDAY...
— Busy times at work. Just me for two days... lots to do. Each day, by lunch, there’s no stop.
— Monday has the best slow pitch softball game I’ve been around. With me coaching third, the team rallies from being down 8-1 after two to win the game 18-17 in nine innings. Quite a playoff game... a bit of everything.
— Tuesday is movie night with Annick, Jamie, Sarah, Sheila, Jon and myself. Meant to see the Tarintino movie... but it’s sold out, so we see 500 Days of Summer. Quite good.
WEDNESDAY...
— Sort of a sudden day off. That is to say, I knew I’d always be late going in... but end up deciding not to go at all.
— Geoff and I head downtown for supper at the Fish Market Restaurant. Good time and a fine tuna steak for me. Could go to work after it’s done, but instead we hang out a bit, as Phil tells me it’s a pretty quiet shift.
THURSDAY...
— Work is quiet. Not much else.
FRIDAY...
— Groceries at Sobeys at 6:30 AM... right from work. Nice sunrise viewed from the parking lot.
— Sleep a few hours and then lay pretty low... a walk around the pond is about it.
SATURDAY...
— UFC night with Phil. Jamie comes part way through. A fun night of food and drink and fights... plus we saw some knob have to get carried out of the bar he was that drunk... classy!
SUNDAY...
— Quiet day. Naps and a talk with mom and dad on the phone.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Making It Up As I Go Along #380
More short stuff thanks to the stump that’s strapped to my hand.
Generations of Summers
Treeless.
The buildings of wood.
As much a wonder upon this land.
As Stonehenge across the sea.
Soil.
So common wherever we live.
Here it remains as scraps upon the rock.
Bits of peat where hard work gives a few potatoes.
Fog.
A daily event the comes with the breath of the sea.
From the horizon to the land within an oceanic gasp.
Obscuring the other side of the bay, known only by a haunting horn.
Sea.
The reason why we came.
Worked long hours.
Plots of ocean fenced by points and crags.
Destroying the families it provides for, with the turn of a breeze.
Families.
Have come from far and carved life here.
Generations venturing out into the fog by boat.
And tending small gardens upon the rock.
Gulls hover high above,
held in place upon the blue
by constant winds
which brings freshness to bed cloths by day...
By night, they tuck us into darkness, their smell bringing dreams of the sea.
SUNDAY...
— Not much sleep last night... I’m tired for work.
— Sheila brings me a Subway sub for lunch... yummy.
MONDAY...
— Not a bad Monday at work. Fairly quiet.
— Geoff comes tonight. We hang out a bit tonight then he’s off to bed as I stay up late for night shift.
TUESDAY & WEDNESDAY...
— Sort of a blur of night shift. Kind of busy Wednesday and not so much Tuesday. I get my eyes checked at the doc Wednesday and they’re about the same as three years ago.
THURSDAY...
— Quiet day. I sleep until about noon and then take off the splint and air out the thumb for the day while I do little around the house.
FRIDAY...
— Golf day. The RCMP tournament. I can’t do much... putting and some one handed nine iron shots. But we avoid the bad weather and have some fun.
— After the golf and supper, I hit the pub with some of the work crowd. A fun night.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day around the house. Leave the splint off to try and help with the pressure irritation that has come with the splint.
Generations of Summers
Treeless.
The buildings of wood.
As much a wonder upon this land.
As Stonehenge across the sea.
Soil.
So common wherever we live.
Here it remains as scraps upon the rock.
Bits of peat where hard work gives a few potatoes.
Fog.
A daily event the comes with the breath of the sea.
From the horizon to the land within an oceanic gasp.
Obscuring the other side of the bay, known only by a haunting horn.
Sea.
The reason why we came.
Worked long hours.
Plots of ocean fenced by points and crags.
Destroying the families it provides for, with the turn of a breeze.
Families.
Have come from far and carved life here.
Generations venturing out into the fog by boat.
And tending small gardens upon the rock.
Gulls hover high above,
held in place upon the blue
by constant winds
which brings freshness to bed cloths by day...
By night, they tuck us into darkness, their smell bringing dreams of the sea.
SUNDAY...
— Not much sleep last night... I’m tired for work.
— Sheila brings me a Subway sub for lunch... yummy.
MONDAY...
— Not a bad Monday at work. Fairly quiet.
— Geoff comes tonight. We hang out a bit tonight then he’s off to bed as I stay up late for night shift.
TUESDAY & WEDNESDAY...
— Sort of a blur of night shift. Kind of busy Wednesday and not so much Tuesday. I get my eyes checked at the doc Wednesday and they’re about the same as three years ago.
THURSDAY...
— Quiet day. I sleep until about noon and then take off the splint and air out the thumb for the day while I do little around the house.
FRIDAY...
— Golf day. The RCMP tournament. I can’t do much... putting and some one handed nine iron shots. But we avoid the bad weather and have some fun.
— After the golf and supper, I hit the pub with some of the work crowd. A fun night.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day around the house. Leave the splint off to try and help with the pressure irritation that has come with the splint.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Making It Up As I Go Along #379
Keeping things short these days as the thumb, while improving, doesn’t really lend to a comfortable hour or so of typing. So combining recent experiences with some poetic licence and a few phrases/words I’ve either heard or though up lately...
Emergency
A war zone.
That’s what it looks like outside of the hospital.
With barriers up and machines rumbling through.
Construction zones are battlefields to be crossed panicked and with vulnerability.
Inside is as if the war zone is true.
Defeated souls slouched in chairs clinging to blankets that pose as skirts.
Around the corner clatters an unstable man.
Drifting into a chair as if walking on the deck of a ship in a heavy swell.
He catches the dislodged chair, shuffles it back a few inches, and carefully raises finger to mouth.
Wide eyed, drooling out a pronounced “shhhhh” before stumbling on, content that he’s fooled us.
This is the life of a stealthy drunk.
I’m surrounded by a new family. A fellowship brought together by pain and misery.
An endurance of time and boredom brings us closer. We talk in an effort to survive the hours.
In the real world, talk is fake. Weather and sales noticed in mailbox fliers.
In this fake world, talk is real. The wish to follow parents into death. Without suicide, of course... nice to meet you.
My thumb brings me to this feverish biker.
Who misses parents so much he wishes for the grill of a big rig while enjoying the freedom of the highway.
The biker talks of Harleys. Unreliable bikes ridden by posers.
My eyes are opened as a mean machine is suddenly transformed into a bean dip bicycle.
Next to him sits a mover who battles demons within his head.
There with the wife of a church goer. She lends him strength as he waits to get his hernia seen to.
A hernia seven years in the making.
Seven years enduring a muscular protrusion.
And two weeks of a battered thumb.
Have brought us here together.
The roots of our meeting took hold when I lived on another land and his stability was not in doubt.
My life has been blessed compared to that of my new friends.
Perhaps the church goer’s wife is more fulfilled but the others are barely getting by.
Battered by life. Telling stories of crashes and falls and the use of three of their cat like lives already.
I’ve needed no extra lives so far. And my thumb was damaged in recreation on my left hand.
So the inconvenience for me is minimal. Seven years of hernia it is not.
Where they’ve had hard lives and I’ve had an easy time,
it seems only fair that they are seen and done first here today.
Tend to the more battered first. I’m destined to spend ten hours here while they’re due to leave happily and soon.
They know it. I’m resigned to it. And they seem happy, for once, to be catching the breaks.
But it is not to be.
Less than four hours in to the stay, I’m called in and seen.
My injury seems not as bad as first thought. No pain in the examination. No need of a cast. Surgery appears unlikely.
They tell me to go on home.
So I return sheepishly.
As my damaged family remains in that marathon sit in the hall.
I shrug apologetically and admit my freedom is at hand.
They smile and wish me well. But I can see the betrayal they feel. Another hope dashed.
And as I walk out into the daylight.
The war zone has disappeared. Sun shines down and birds praise summer.
I think of those I’ve left behind.
Such an odd way... to learn the truth... about a Harley.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day at work. I’m glad... me alone with a sore hand, headache and general tiredness. Timely drugs help.
SUNDAY...
— Work until around 10:00. Then I go home and sleep... and deal with my thumb.
MONDAY...
— Another day much like yesterday as far as the sticking close to home thing goes. Geoff arrives in the evening. We hang out for a bit catching up.
TUESDAY...
— On the way in to work I get a call from the doctor’s office. Got to go see them tomorrow about my x-rays. Such a call is never good news... oh dear oh dear.
— Work starts quite busy. I don’t stop to get supper before 7:30. By 1:00 it’s pretty quiet again though.
WEDNESDAY...
— Doctor day... part 1. Clinic says I indeed fractured my thumb. They tell me to go to hospital to get it seen to.
— Hospital tells me it’ll be about four hours before I’m seen. That’d ruin supper with Geoff so I leave. $3.50 parking for 15 minutes... good good.
— Supper downtown with Geoff is great. Keg steaks on the patio... lots of good catching up going on.
THURSDAY...
— Up early to go to hospital... part 2. Three and a half hours waiting to be done. Doctor there says the fracture isn’t too bad and the ligaments seem to not be overly loose. Three more weeks in the splint and the hope is it’ll be good. I also have fun listening to the stories of the biker dude who’s sitting in the waiting room next to me. All topics covered... from French women to Harley’s... from his buddy “Hillbilly” who had numerous bike accidents to his girlfriend’s ex banging on the door at night.
— Walk the pond in the afternoon. Hot out... around 35 with humidity and sun... great.
FRIDAY...
— Go for another pond walk. Bring the camera this time. Still 35 degrees. Nice.
— Watch some Fox News tonight. They are ridiculous. Everything they claim democrats did when Bush was in office... now they do. Just a constant democrat attack with commercials for the network saying “fair and balanced.” Idiots.
Emergency
A war zone.
That’s what it looks like outside of the hospital.
With barriers up and machines rumbling through.
Construction zones are battlefields to be crossed panicked and with vulnerability.
Inside is as if the war zone is true.
Defeated souls slouched in chairs clinging to blankets that pose as skirts.
Around the corner clatters an unstable man.
Drifting into a chair as if walking on the deck of a ship in a heavy swell.
He catches the dislodged chair, shuffles it back a few inches, and carefully raises finger to mouth.
Wide eyed, drooling out a pronounced “shhhhh” before stumbling on, content that he’s fooled us.
This is the life of a stealthy drunk.
I’m surrounded by a new family. A fellowship brought together by pain and misery.
An endurance of time and boredom brings us closer. We talk in an effort to survive the hours.
In the real world, talk is fake. Weather and sales noticed in mailbox fliers.
In this fake world, talk is real. The wish to follow parents into death. Without suicide, of course... nice to meet you.
My thumb brings me to this feverish biker.
Who misses parents so much he wishes for the grill of a big rig while enjoying the freedom of the highway.
The biker talks of Harleys. Unreliable bikes ridden by posers.
My eyes are opened as a mean machine is suddenly transformed into a bean dip bicycle.
Next to him sits a mover who battles demons within his head.
There with the wife of a church goer. She lends him strength as he waits to get his hernia seen to.
A hernia seven years in the making.
Seven years enduring a muscular protrusion.
And two weeks of a battered thumb.
Have brought us here together.
The roots of our meeting took hold when I lived on another land and his stability was not in doubt.
My life has been blessed compared to that of my new friends.
Perhaps the church goer’s wife is more fulfilled but the others are barely getting by.
Battered by life. Telling stories of crashes and falls and the use of three of their cat like lives already.
I’ve needed no extra lives so far. And my thumb was damaged in recreation on my left hand.
So the inconvenience for me is minimal. Seven years of hernia it is not.
Where they’ve had hard lives and I’ve had an easy time,
it seems only fair that they are seen and done first here today.
Tend to the more battered first. I’m destined to spend ten hours here while they’re due to leave happily and soon.
They know it. I’m resigned to it. And they seem happy, for once, to be catching the breaks.
But it is not to be.
Less than four hours in to the stay, I’m called in and seen.
My injury seems not as bad as first thought. No pain in the examination. No need of a cast. Surgery appears unlikely.
They tell me to go on home.
So I return sheepishly.
As my damaged family remains in that marathon sit in the hall.
I shrug apologetically and admit my freedom is at hand.
They smile and wish me well. But I can see the betrayal they feel. Another hope dashed.
And as I walk out into the daylight.
The war zone has disappeared. Sun shines down and birds praise summer.
I think of those I’ve left behind.
Such an odd way... to learn the truth... about a Harley.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day at work. I’m glad... me alone with a sore hand, headache and general tiredness. Timely drugs help.
SUNDAY...
— Work until around 10:00. Then I go home and sleep... and deal with my thumb.
MONDAY...
— Another day much like yesterday as far as the sticking close to home thing goes. Geoff arrives in the evening. We hang out for a bit catching up.
TUESDAY...
— On the way in to work I get a call from the doctor’s office. Got to go see them tomorrow about my x-rays. Such a call is never good news... oh dear oh dear.
— Work starts quite busy. I don’t stop to get supper before 7:30. By 1:00 it’s pretty quiet again though.
WEDNESDAY...
— Doctor day... part 1. Clinic says I indeed fractured my thumb. They tell me to go to hospital to get it seen to.
— Hospital tells me it’ll be about four hours before I’m seen. That’d ruin supper with Geoff so I leave. $3.50 parking for 15 minutes... good good.
— Supper downtown with Geoff is great. Keg steaks on the patio... lots of good catching up going on.
THURSDAY...
— Up early to go to hospital... part 2. Three and a half hours waiting to be done. Doctor there says the fracture isn’t too bad and the ligaments seem to not be overly loose. Three more weeks in the splint and the hope is it’ll be good. I also have fun listening to the stories of the biker dude who’s sitting in the waiting room next to me. All topics covered... from French women to Harley’s... from his buddy “Hillbilly” who had numerous bike accidents to his girlfriend’s ex banging on the door at night.
— Walk the pond in the afternoon. Hot out... around 35 with humidity and sun... great.
FRIDAY...
— Go for another pond walk. Bring the camera this time. Still 35 degrees. Nice.
— Watch some Fox News tonight. They are ridiculous. Everything they claim democrats did when Bush was in office... now they do. Just a constant democrat attack with commercials for the network saying “fair and balanced.” Idiots.
Friday, August 07, 2009
Making It Up As I Go Along #378
Why Play
Joints and muscles
Swollen inflamed and throbbing.
Getting into a car can be so painful.
Climbing from the bed becomes a chore.
Tying a pair of shoes seems to be a daunting task.
Stairs are as mountains and a handshake gives way to a wave.
Years of abuse brings on such bodily nicknames as
Weather knee, popping shoulder, and clicking wrist.
Body parts become as a native tribe in the world of the name.
The price for glory.
Championships are obvious and not the reason for the love.
What makes one endure is the feeling of a smooth swing
driving a ball into that perfect place.
The smell of a glove as it molds to your hand,
slowly becoming a part of you as your days together grow.
There is the wrist shot, burying puck or ball just off the edge of a post
as it glangs from there into the whoosh of the net.
Diving snags followed by a perfect roll and throw,
Getting the out and done so well, not a mark remains after the controlled tumble.
Making those plays, even once a season
That the pros make almost daily. You watch the play of the day on TV and remember when you did that too, not so long ago.
The pain is often there,
But the reason for risk is obvious...
For any who have done it... even just once.
FRIDAY...
— Work is backwards today. Busy in the morning and quiet in the afternoon. A normal day, lately, has been quiet until around 2:00 and then it gets nuts until about 5:30. Today it was busy from about 7:30 to lunch and then settled. You just never know.
— Halladay remains a Jay after the trade deadline goes by. I’m glad. I find I’ve reverted back to a kid in regards to the Halladay trade talk. I’ve heard lots of reasons why it’d make sense to do... but, in the end, I just wanted my favourite player to stay on my favourite team. How much longer it’ll go for, I don’t know... but I’ll appreciate the starts he has left in Toronto.
SATURDAY...
— Slow day at work. The time drags on pretty heavy. The nice day outside and our wall of windows showing it doesn’t help speed the time in the office.
— Sleep a few hours in the early evening. I was really tired by the time work ends. But have to stay up after I wake... night shift approaches.
SUNDAY...
— Sleepy day... quiet night at work... Greek food with Melissa and Phil is about the only noteworthy thing that went on all day.
MONDAY...
— Work is pretty quiet. A 2:00 AM walk in set of prints from Gatineau being the only unusual thing, or amount of real action.
TUESDAY...
— Slowpitch for the RCMP is rained out. Typical Ottawa... perfectly nice until game time when the thunder and lightning blast the place. Louis and I go to Tim Horton’s for a talk... and I get a sandwich for supper... so the trip out wasn’t a total waste.
WEDNESDAY...
— Walking day. I go for a half hour walk around the pond in the afternoon... and go for an hour and a half in the neighbourhood at night.
THURSDAY...
— Beat up my thumb at ball. I can swing the bat still but catching the ball is tough right now.
— Jeremy Roenick retires. I’ll miss the guy... a fun interview for the NHL.
FRIDAY...
— Doctor appointment. I’m in a splint for a week and we’ll see what’s up then. It’s either the thumb is badly hyper-extended, broken, or has tendon damage. I’m guessing summer ball is over for me but I’ll get a better read next Friday.
Joints and muscles
Swollen inflamed and throbbing.
Getting into a car can be so painful.
Climbing from the bed becomes a chore.
Tying a pair of shoes seems to be a daunting task.
Stairs are as mountains and a handshake gives way to a wave.
Years of abuse brings on such bodily nicknames as
Weather knee, popping shoulder, and clicking wrist.
Body parts become as a native tribe in the world of the name.
The price for glory.
Championships are obvious and not the reason for the love.
What makes one endure is the feeling of a smooth swing
driving a ball into that perfect place.
The smell of a glove as it molds to your hand,
slowly becoming a part of you as your days together grow.
There is the wrist shot, burying puck or ball just off the edge of a post
as it glangs from there into the whoosh of the net.
Diving snags followed by a perfect roll and throw,
Getting the out and done so well, not a mark remains after the controlled tumble.
Making those plays, even once a season
That the pros make almost daily. You watch the play of the day on TV and remember when you did that too, not so long ago.
The pain is often there,
But the reason for risk is obvious...
For any who have done it... even just once.
FRIDAY...
— Work is backwards today. Busy in the morning and quiet in the afternoon. A normal day, lately, has been quiet until around 2:00 and then it gets nuts until about 5:30. Today it was busy from about 7:30 to lunch and then settled. You just never know.
— Halladay remains a Jay after the trade deadline goes by. I’m glad. I find I’ve reverted back to a kid in regards to the Halladay trade talk. I’ve heard lots of reasons why it’d make sense to do... but, in the end, I just wanted my favourite player to stay on my favourite team. How much longer it’ll go for, I don’t know... but I’ll appreciate the starts he has left in Toronto.
SATURDAY...
— Slow day at work. The time drags on pretty heavy. The nice day outside and our wall of windows showing it doesn’t help speed the time in the office.
— Sleep a few hours in the early evening. I was really tired by the time work ends. But have to stay up after I wake... night shift approaches.
SUNDAY...
— Sleepy day... quiet night at work... Greek food with Melissa and Phil is about the only noteworthy thing that went on all day.
MONDAY...
— Work is pretty quiet. A 2:00 AM walk in set of prints from Gatineau being the only unusual thing, or amount of real action.
TUESDAY...
— Slowpitch for the RCMP is rained out. Typical Ottawa... perfectly nice until game time when the thunder and lightning blast the place. Louis and I go to Tim Horton’s for a talk... and I get a sandwich for supper... so the trip out wasn’t a total waste.
WEDNESDAY...
— Walking day. I go for a half hour walk around the pond in the afternoon... and go for an hour and a half in the neighbourhood at night.
THURSDAY...
— Beat up my thumb at ball. I can swing the bat still but catching the ball is tough right now.
— Jeremy Roenick retires. I’ll miss the guy... a fun interview for the NHL.
FRIDAY...
— Doctor appointment. I’m in a splint for a week and we’ll see what’s up then. It’s either the thumb is badly hyper-extended, broken, or has tendon damage. I’m guessing summer ball is over for me but I’ll get a better read next Friday.
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