Random Thoughts
The Return of Sunday
Starting December 6th, a week from this Sunday, my blog will once again be updated every week on Sunday rather than every eight days.
The reason for the move is I’m returning back to AFIS at work. Gone is the CPSIC shift. No more weekend working or overnights... for now.
I say for now because management in my office continue to harp on about transition and change and unclear futures. They’ve been doing it for six years and there’s no sign of that stopping anytime soon.
They are able to see far enough into the future to tell me that, come December 7, I will be in AFIS. Beyond that, we’ll wait and see.
So after a year and a few months of a less set schedule, the old Sunday routine is coming back. No more need of digging through calenders and trying to figure out the mathematics of it all. Something will be there each Sunday... plain and simple.
The Culture of War
I’ve often hinted that I thought it was coming. I now think it’s fully here. I think North Americans have become way to comfortable with the idea of war. It’s to a point that I think we’d worry about what to do with ourselves if we didn’t have some military conflict to be a part of.
For one, I’m still not even sure if you can call what goes on in Afghanistan a war. It’s some form of military action, but war really seems to not fit it. Yet we insist and proclaiming it so... therefore, it is.
We have the “War on...” phrases. “War on Drugs”, “War on Illiteracy”, “War on Terror”. We really like the way “war” sounds.
To get fit, women go to “Booty Camp” (which always brings a very flamboyant group of soldiers preparing to go overseas to the tune of Bee Gee songs). They also have “Body Combat”, “Adventure Boot Camp”, “G.I. Jane Boot Camp”, and “Kickbutt Bootcamp Workout”. Perhaps this is all one big cover as women train to overtake the men and rule the world with kettle bells and the tune of Mambo #5.
In sports, it’s often been said that the game was “a war out there”. For a little while, after Iraq started, people stopped saying that. They spoke of putting things in perspective and “this is just a game, after all”... But that feeling has gone away and we’re right back to calling heated games “wars”.
Don Cherry has virtually given up all efforts to discuss hockey related issues in his Coach’s Corner segment. He’s somehow become the man to pay tribute to the fallen. I’ve never thought that’s a bad thing. But I have also never agreed with doing such a thing between the first and second period of a hockey game. It’s out of place.
Fly overs at sporting events are as popular as ever. Jets and bombers zip past sports stadiums as if they’re about to attack. And the fans go crazy for it every time.
The Ottawa Senators, always being an organization not quite able to know what’s best, decided to call their fans “Sens Army”. For one... it’s rather desperate to have to dub your fans anything. The Senators aren’t the only team to do it but that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing for them to do. And, for another, when the news is constantly beating us over the head with “war”, and our hockey teams now “go to war”, do we really need to make fans a part of the “army”?
Yesterday, a sports talk radio host asked an American commentator what he’s thankful for (seeing as it’s American Thanksgiving). Right off the top of his head, the answer wasn’t his family. Not his friends. Not the fact that he gets paid to follow around a pro sports franchise. No, predictably, he was “thankful for the troops”. Again, I’m not saying we shouldn’t pay respect to the soldiers who put themselves in harm’s way. But I don’t feel real comfortable with that being the first thing to be thankful for on a sports talk radio show.
Like it or not, we’ve become a continent that has grown very comfortable with the idea of war. Too comfortable. It’s become a part of our everyday lives.
Grey Days
Ottawa has become grey. For about a week, the sun has gone away. Probably it’s in Vancouver or St. John’s... cause it seems very much like Ottawa got their weather the last week or so.
And with that said, I kind of enjoy the grey. It for certain beats the extreme cold. Depression comes when nostrils freeze and I’m quite satisfied being able to wear sneakers outside here at the end of November.
Also, I’ve grown up with so little sun, that I feel kind of at home when the clouds sock in. On Tuesday morning, I drove home from work in such a thick fog, that I had to reduce speed in order to give myself time to maneuver the streets. A wall stood a constant fifty feet in front of the car. Never able to see further... never able to run into it. It just hangs there in front, drifting ahead as fast as you go. And then re-enveloping you from the back... chasing from that fifty foot cushion as well.
I enjoy foggy days in Ottawa. They are so rare here that you don’t get claustrophobic, like at home. Two weeks of fog in St. John’s can get to you. A day of it in Ottawa is just sort of nice. Quiet, mysterious, mild... there’s just something nice about a foggy day. Now if only they had fog horns around here!
I also find I like a drizzly day now. Again, St. John’s drizzle is not so good. Weeks of it coupled with winds that slap you wetly in the face... not so good. But a day of drizzle with little wind means you can carry on comfortably.
I find the puddles that build on streets and sidewalks are as city tidal pools. Yes, it’s unlikely that you’ll find fish and crabs milling about the pool. But you can’t help peaking in the pool, looking for worms.
FRIDAY...
— Fairly normal day at work. Last week day dayshift for me in CPSIC. The date is in... I’m back to AFIS December 7.
SATURDAY...
— Work... nap... then off to UFC night at the bar with Phil and Sarah to start... Osana joins us. Fun night.
SUNDAY...
— Chinese food at work makes a lousy slowpitch game not hurt so bad. Plus side of the ball game, my first game played without the thumb taped.
MONDAY...
— Last hour or so of the night shift was hard. Ran out of gas and wanted a nap... DIDN’T!... no sleeping on the job... but had to get up and walk around in order to keep the blood flowing.
TUESDAY...
— Up around 11:30. Laziness follows.
WEDNESDAY...
— Still sleeping in. After 11:00 again today. Laundry and drinks and supper with Sam and his friend from Toronto.
THURSDAY...
— Quiet day with groceries and some TV. The Ottawa Senator’s third jersey is most assuredly among the five worst jerseys in the NHL today. Thank goodness Montreal has never been so stupid to design a jersey with “Habs” on the chest.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Making It Up As I Go Along #391
Unicorn Prowlers
Great headlights of sun illuminate the darkness to a point of daylight. Shadows abound, birds rouse from their nests early, and raccoons scamper back to their lair.
Oops, it’s simply a car passing.
New headlights are advertised on TV now. Headlights that allow you to see so much more. And I’ve seen some of these things on the road. One of the things the ads don’t show you being able to see is the whites of the eyes of blinded oncoming drivers.
The way around the constant flicker from low beam to high beam... install sun beams. Why is this not illegal?
It shows the lack of common sense in today’s society. Where we need to spell everything out, and if we don’t, it’s our fault for not rather than their fault for not cluing in. For instance... soon after the law hit Ontario banning driving and talking on the cell phone at the same time, people had to specify driving and texting shouldn’t be done either. You’d think if we’re told not to hold a cell phone to your ear and talk, it goes without saying you shouldn’t look down at it and type as you drive.
Texting, for a short time, was a way around not being able to use your phone while driving. These halogen lamp headlights are a way around the high beam issue. “Cop tell me not to drive with my high beams on, I’ll show him... these ain’t no high beams!”
So now we can spot unicorns in the woods (so TV tells us). Talking unicorns!
Perhaps we don’t need to see so well at night that mythical beasts become reality. And what of the expression, “caught like a deer in the headlights”? Will driving around with halogen headlights cause all deer to remain motionless... blinded for hours... in the middle of our night time roads? Blinded deer statues propped up in the middle of the highway... an obstacle course of deer.
Flocks of birds must bounce of the windshields of halogen lit cars like some sort of living hail. Hail the size of golf balls? Try the size, and shape, of sparrows, finches, and robins all crashing into the car the way they do lit sky scrapers in the downtown core.
I guess, at this point in the game, it’s good for the small percentage of the population who drives around with the sun beams. The get to see as if driving by day, and it’s only a small part of society that has to endure the flash of blindness. You could even set up watches and post alerts on the news... Halogen lit car traveling eastward on highway 417, last seen at the Vanier exit ramp! Other drivers could change their route to avoid it as if avoiding rush hour traffic. But imagine if we all switch to halogen lights. Thousands of bird carcases, statuesque deer, confused unicorns, and a multitude of cars dropped into ditches or wrapped around trees. All as a result of headlight blindness.
For the religious amongst us, when you’re out driving at night and you think you must have died... for the love of God, DON’T go towards the light! It’s likely not the path to heaven... but just some guy who recently made a purchase at Canadian Tire... out on the prowl for Unicorns
THURSDAY...
— Long day thanks to bad sleep. I fell asleep around 10:45 last night... woke at 12:30... lay awake until 2:30... TV until 3:15... back to bed for another hour before the alarm for work.
— Make it through things better than I thought I would. Still, a general feeling of unsettlement in and around the office these days. It slowly drains.
FRIDAY...
— Busy day. Some very busy times and some quiet time near the end of shift. Out to supper from work... my first go of Vietnamese food. Good stuff.
— Home for some TV afterwards... very tired but staying up until around 2:00 to try to get set for night shift.
SATURDAY...
— Alone at work on a quiet Saturday night.
SUNDAY...
— Slept until 1:30. That’s late for me, even coming off night shift. Still fighting this cold/flu thing. A scratchy throat has got a cough on the go for the last two or three days. So tired of this... three weeks of feeling under the weather. But it’s not uncommon, many people have the month long virus.
MONDAY...
— When I get home from work I’m feeling like the sickness is just about out of me. Sleep for four hours or so and then catch up on the Sunday TV... bless PVRs. Geoff arrives in the evening and we hang out some before he hits the hay. Another round of the Keg is coming tomorrow.
TUESDAY...
— Laundry by day... steak by night. Meet Geoff at the Keg and have a great meal. Then home, stuffed and lounging in front of the tube watching the new nature program on Discovery, “Life”.
WEDNESDAY...
— Bowling is fun. Lucky comeback for me in the second game and I get the high score after being 5th through six frames. But it’s good with Jamie, Annick, Julia, and Tom as a team.
— Walk tonight. Hour and fifteen minutes. Need to do more of this stuff.
Great headlights of sun illuminate the darkness to a point of daylight. Shadows abound, birds rouse from their nests early, and raccoons scamper back to their lair.
Oops, it’s simply a car passing.
New headlights are advertised on TV now. Headlights that allow you to see so much more. And I’ve seen some of these things on the road. One of the things the ads don’t show you being able to see is the whites of the eyes of blinded oncoming drivers.
The way around the constant flicker from low beam to high beam... install sun beams. Why is this not illegal?
It shows the lack of common sense in today’s society. Where we need to spell everything out, and if we don’t, it’s our fault for not rather than their fault for not cluing in. For instance... soon after the law hit Ontario banning driving and talking on the cell phone at the same time, people had to specify driving and texting shouldn’t be done either. You’d think if we’re told not to hold a cell phone to your ear and talk, it goes without saying you shouldn’t look down at it and type as you drive.
Texting, for a short time, was a way around not being able to use your phone while driving. These halogen lamp headlights are a way around the high beam issue. “Cop tell me not to drive with my high beams on, I’ll show him... these ain’t no high beams!”
So now we can spot unicorns in the woods (so TV tells us). Talking unicorns!
Perhaps we don’t need to see so well at night that mythical beasts become reality. And what of the expression, “caught like a deer in the headlights”? Will driving around with halogen headlights cause all deer to remain motionless... blinded for hours... in the middle of our night time roads? Blinded deer statues propped up in the middle of the highway... an obstacle course of deer.
Flocks of birds must bounce of the windshields of halogen lit cars like some sort of living hail. Hail the size of golf balls? Try the size, and shape, of sparrows, finches, and robins all crashing into the car the way they do lit sky scrapers in the downtown core.
I guess, at this point in the game, it’s good for the small percentage of the population who drives around with the sun beams. The get to see as if driving by day, and it’s only a small part of society that has to endure the flash of blindness. You could even set up watches and post alerts on the news... Halogen lit car traveling eastward on highway 417, last seen at the Vanier exit ramp! Other drivers could change their route to avoid it as if avoiding rush hour traffic. But imagine if we all switch to halogen lights. Thousands of bird carcases, statuesque deer, confused unicorns, and a multitude of cars dropped into ditches or wrapped around trees. All as a result of headlight blindness.
For the religious amongst us, when you’re out driving at night and you think you must have died... for the love of God, DON’T go towards the light! It’s likely not the path to heaven... but just some guy who recently made a purchase at Canadian Tire... out on the prowl for Unicorns
THURSDAY...
— Long day thanks to bad sleep. I fell asleep around 10:45 last night... woke at 12:30... lay awake until 2:30... TV until 3:15... back to bed for another hour before the alarm for work.
— Make it through things better than I thought I would. Still, a general feeling of unsettlement in and around the office these days. It slowly drains.
FRIDAY...
— Busy day. Some very busy times and some quiet time near the end of shift. Out to supper from work... my first go of Vietnamese food. Good stuff.
— Home for some TV afterwards... very tired but staying up until around 2:00 to try to get set for night shift.
SATURDAY...
— Alone at work on a quiet Saturday night.
SUNDAY...
— Slept until 1:30. That’s late for me, even coming off night shift. Still fighting this cold/flu thing. A scratchy throat has got a cough on the go for the last two or three days. So tired of this... three weeks of feeling under the weather. But it’s not uncommon, many people have the month long virus.
MONDAY...
— When I get home from work I’m feeling like the sickness is just about out of me. Sleep for four hours or so and then catch up on the Sunday TV... bless PVRs. Geoff arrives in the evening and we hang out some before he hits the hay. Another round of the Keg is coming tomorrow.
TUESDAY...
— Laundry by day... steak by night. Meet Geoff at the Keg and have a great meal. Then home, stuffed and lounging in front of the tube watching the new nature program on Discovery, “Life”.
WEDNESDAY...
— Bowling is fun. Lucky comeback for me in the second game and I get the high score after being 5th through six frames. But it’s good with Jamie, Annick, Julia, and Tom as a team.
— Walk tonight. Hour and fifteen minutes. Need to do more of this stuff.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Making It Up As I Go Along #390
Self Cooked Stone Steaks
The service industry has become obsessed with ramming do-it-yourself down our throat. It’s made out to be some amazingly great thing. Where we are supposed to feel good about doing duties and tasks that others used to get paid to do... primarily because nobody else would want to do this for free.
We’ve become like children who get duped into cleaning up their room by a parent who says “let’s make a game of it!”
As a result... we now check ourselves in at airports. This started out good. Only a few adventurous sorts would tackle the machine while others lined up to be served. A quick line to drop your bag and you’re on your merry way.
Only now, everybody gets their own boarding cards. So the baggage drop off line is just as long now as the boarding pass line used to be. Nothing is saved unless you decide to travel with no baggage at all.
Still, airport self serve is a fairly painless one. How about the one that gets me the most... and the longest running one... all you can eat buffet.
So the deal here is that you can eat as much as possible as long as the people preparing the food have nothing to do with serving it to you. The long lines to get a scoop of rice are one thing. But we have to put an awful lot of trust into the idea that the strangers who wander up to the troff ahead of us are sanitary. Fingering an egg roll hardly seems beyond the realms of possibility. And what of the heat lamp? Should we feel good about eating food that’s been left to simmer under glorified light bulbs? The end result is that you eat more food than you actually need in you and it’s at a low end quality. Yet we go nuts for the deal and elbow each other out of the way for the last scoop of dried out lasagna.
Higher end restaurants have gone in on the action. Fondu places have been around forever. Raw meat and boiling water... somehow it seems to work. A social aspect to the meal enables it to be one of the few that get away with legitimate do-it-yourself. But yesterday I was at a restaurant that posted rock grilled steak.
For more money (about $3 extra) you have the privilege of finishing off the cooking process of your steak. It comes out to you half done on a stone that’s heated to 700 degrees. It’s then your job to turn it over, cut it, and see to it reaching your desired degree of cooking. Rare? Well done? Medium? From now on, you no longer have the option of sending it back to the kitchen complaining that it isn’t done to your liking. It’s all on you!
That’s a lot of pressure for someone who just wants to sit back, chat, and have a meal. The steak can be overdone by the simple slipping into too good of a conversation. And let’s not forget, you’re sitting inches from a 700 degree stone. Reach across the table for a napkin, and leave half the skin of your forearm sizzling there next to the meat. Your steak will surly be overdone as you take the time to get iced and gauzed. A perfect evening. All at an the bargain cost of $3 more!
Grocery stores are the worst though. We used to bring our food to cash registers and look at the cashier with a degree of pity. Remembering when we were a seventeen year old entering the adult world of the working. We’d watch as they fumble with an item, looking for a price tag or barcode. Exasperated, they’d get on the phone calling Bob to the cash for a price check. This was no job that I ever aspired to do. I was thankful for not doing it and sometimes felt like I should give them a little something extra just to help them out financially... anything to get them on to a better job.
Today, we are meant to feel overjoyed for stepping into the role of seventeen year old cashier. Bring your groceries to a scanner and do it all yourself! Only... I don’t want to weigh bananas... and I don’t want to try to scan a tin of soup. I don’t even know this Bob guy who’ll do my price check!
Somehow, businesses are giving us less service and trying their best to make the customer feel that this is a good thing. The funny thing is, quite a few people buy into it. They gleefully head for the self checkout line at the grocery store. And they seem confused as to the holdup, not knowing why that eighty-three year old woman is having trouble scanning her can of peas. What a glorious and advanced age we live in.
WEDNESDAY...
— Busy day at work. I’m pretty much doing it alone from 6 to 2:30. Once Phil gets in there, I’m pretty wiped out.
— Groceries and gas slow the getting home process. Just some baseball on TV to polish the night.
THURSDAY...
— Paranormal Activity... round two. It’s fun again to see.
FRIDAY...
— Quiet night at work... pizza comes in to make it go better. Getting cold... -10 with windchill tonight. Brrr.
SATURDAY...
— Scratchy throat, hot and cold, and some general aches... sick again. Work is quiet and I get through okay, despite feeling crumby.
SUNDAY...
— Get some much needed stuff at the store after work. Vitamin D and multi vitamins... and orange juice.
— Play ball even though I’m not feeling great. First game since I hurt my thumb where I don’t feel off in the field. Could still hit a bit better in this indoor league, but felt good in the field. Finally.
— Skip post game drinks in favour of a shower and soup... want to get rid of this sick thing.
MONDAY...
— Find out my new team to be at work. Come December I’ll be back in AFIS with a decent looking group. Pretty quiet day otherwise... Still not feeling 100% but improving for sure.
TUESDAY...
— Hockey night. Meet up with the crew and we eat at the Crazy Horse restaurant... then off to the stadium for the Oilers vs. Sens. Good game that goes to the cursed shootout. Ottawa pulls it out 4-3.
The service industry has become obsessed with ramming do-it-yourself down our throat. It’s made out to be some amazingly great thing. Where we are supposed to feel good about doing duties and tasks that others used to get paid to do... primarily because nobody else would want to do this for free.
We’ve become like children who get duped into cleaning up their room by a parent who says “let’s make a game of it!”
As a result... we now check ourselves in at airports. This started out good. Only a few adventurous sorts would tackle the machine while others lined up to be served. A quick line to drop your bag and you’re on your merry way.
Only now, everybody gets their own boarding cards. So the baggage drop off line is just as long now as the boarding pass line used to be. Nothing is saved unless you decide to travel with no baggage at all.
Still, airport self serve is a fairly painless one. How about the one that gets me the most... and the longest running one... all you can eat buffet.
So the deal here is that you can eat as much as possible as long as the people preparing the food have nothing to do with serving it to you. The long lines to get a scoop of rice are one thing. But we have to put an awful lot of trust into the idea that the strangers who wander up to the troff ahead of us are sanitary. Fingering an egg roll hardly seems beyond the realms of possibility. And what of the heat lamp? Should we feel good about eating food that’s been left to simmer under glorified light bulbs? The end result is that you eat more food than you actually need in you and it’s at a low end quality. Yet we go nuts for the deal and elbow each other out of the way for the last scoop of dried out lasagna.
Higher end restaurants have gone in on the action. Fondu places have been around forever. Raw meat and boiling water... somehow it seems to work. A social aspect to the meal enables it to be one of the few that get away with legitimate do-it-yourself. But yesterday I was at a restaurant that posted rock grilled steak.
For more money (about $3 extra) you have the privilege of finishing off the cooking process of your steak. It comes out to you half done on a stone that’s heated to 700 degrees. It’s then your job to turn it over, cut it, and see to it reaching your desired degree of cooking. Rare? Well done? Medium? From now on, you no longer have the option of sending it back to the kitchen complaining that it isn’t done to your liking. It’s all on you!
That’s a lot of pressure for someone who just wants to sit back, chat, and have a meal. The steak can be overdone by the simple slipping into too good of a conversation. And let’s not forget, you’re sitting inches from a 700 degree stone. Reach across the table for a napkin, and leave half the skin of your forearm sizzling there next to the meat. Your steak will surly be overdone as you take the time to get iced and gauzed. A perfect evening. All at an the bargain cost of $3 more!
Grocery stores are the worst though. We used to bring our food to cash registers and look at the cashier with a degree of pity. Remembering when we were a seventeen year old entering the adult world of the working. We’d watch as they fumble with an item, looking for a price tag or barcode. Exasperated, they’d get on the phone calling Bob to the cash for a price check. This was no job that I ever aspired to do. I was thankful for not doing it and sometimes felt like I should give them a little something extra just to help them out financially... anything to get them on to a better job.
Today, we are meant to feel overjoyed for stepping into the role of seventeen year old cashier. Bring your groceries to a scanner and do it all yourself! Only... I don’t want to weigh bananas... and I don’t want to try to scan a tin of soup. I don’t even know this Bob guy who’ll do my price check!
Somehow, businesses are giving us less service and trying their best to make the customer feel that this is a good thing. The funny thing is, quite a few people buy into it. They gleefully head for the self checkout line at the grocery store. And they seem confused as to the holdup, not knowing why that eighty-three year old woman is having trouble scanning her can of peas. What a glorious and advanced age we live in.
WEDNESDAY...
— Busy day at work. I’m pretty much doing it alone from 6 to 2:30. Once Phil gets in there, I’m pretty wiped out.
— Groceries and gas slow the getting home process. Just some baseball on TV to polish the night.
THURSDAY...
— Paranormal Activity... round two. It’s fun again to see.
FRIDAY...
— Quiet night at work... pizza comes in to make it go better. Getting cold... -10 with windchill tonight. Brrr.
SATURDAY...
— Scratchy throat, hot and cold, and some general aches... sick again. Work is quiet and I get through okay, despite feeling crumby.
SUNDAY...
— Get some much needed stuff at the store after work. Vitamin D and multi vitamins... and orange juice.
— Play ball even though I’m not feeling great. First game since I hurt my thumb where I don’t feel off in the field. Could still hit a bit better in this indoor league, but felt good in the field. Finally.
— Skip post game drinks in favour of a shower and soup... want to get rid of this sick thing.
MONDAY...
— Find out my new team to be at work. Come December I’ll be back in AFIS with a decent looking group. Pretty quiet day otherwise... Still not feeling 100% but improving for sure.
TUESDAY...
— Hockey night. Meet up with the crew and we eat at the Crazy Horse restaurant... then off to the stadium for the Oilers vs. Sens. Good game that goes to the cursed shootout. Ottawa pulls it out 4-3.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Making It Up As I Go Along #389
The Snow Tire Affair
There are connections between people. Connections that can span the globe where, without talking to or seeing them, you just know something is wrong. Such connections are most often spoken of between twins. One falls and breaks a leg... the other feels pain. One trapped under a fallen bookshelf... the other feeling a sudden urge to read. Hmm, maybe that isn’t completely right... but you get the idea.
The Brown family has had such a connection. Even though my sister is on the western end of the continent and my parents are in the far east. And even though I’m perched in the middle of them all... we came together last week. No phone, e-mail or text message played any roll. Perhaps we came together in our dreams. But last Wednesday, from coast, to middle, to coast... we all had winter tires installed on our cars.
Sure this isn’t as sexy a connection as those direct to video movies which star Pamela Anderson as a pair of twins. There are no double crosses, murders, or nation wide journeys where one can’t rest until they’ve reached the other, as they lay trapped. But it’s still pretty spooky. Hey, I mean really... if a Doritos chip can look like Jesus, this isn’t beyond the realm of the supernatural.
Some knowledge was shared the night before the event. A quick e-mail exchange between sister and I enabled us to realize we were both about to hit the garages the next day. But the plans were all set in motion well before these e-mails. Edena makes plans of this nature weeks in advance. It may have been first hatched as far back as May. You just really never know.
But in previous years, despite best intentions, I have found myself waiting until after the first major snowfall. When the car needs a good twelve hours of garage time before it’s ready to be picked up. For some reason, this year, something entered my subconscious. And I had to make the move while still able to walk back to work in a fleece and sneakers.
The eeriness peaked upon learning that dad had also brought the car in. Just a casual e-mail discussing the days events. Yet the mention of the snow tires stuck out on the electronic page as if it were written in blood and dripping down the wall. I sat dumbfounded at the coincidence.
Near a week has gone by since the Day of the Tire. I’ve been able to drive about with little need of them. Temperatures have stayed up and roads have remained clear. But this must have happened for a reason.
I suppose I should not be surprised in the fact that I can not understand this. The universe is a complex place... one that we are unable to fully comprehend. If a butterfly’s wings can create hurricanes, I’m sure the Simultaneous Snow Tire Affair also holds a greater meaning.
Last Wednesday, the Brown family set the wheels in motion for something magnificent.
TUESDAY...
— Work... not a real busy day... a staff meeting that meant nothing.
— Bit of TV in the evening.
WEDNESDAY...
— Officially out of CPSIC. It won’t happen until the beginning of December. At that time, it’s back to AFIS for me... mostly night shifts again. Back to eight hour days and regular weekends off. It’ll take getting used to in many ways.
— Movie night. After Phil drops me to get my car (snow tires put on) it’s supper at the mall and then Paranormal Activity at the movies with a crew of us. Sarah and I are the only two to really like it. Jamie thought it was alright. Everyone else (Phil, Jon, Sheila, Julia... disliked it).
THURSDAY...
— Find out that yesterday was a family bonding event from coast to coast... Edena, mom and dad, and I all put snow tires on the cars yesterday.
— Quiet time around the house waiting for night shift. Not a great afternoon nap, so we’ll see if tonight gets tough.
FRIDAY...
— Bad back. Big knot in the middle of the shoulders.
— Two phone calls before 9:30 this morning... which isn’t great when bedtime was about 7:20. Got back to sleep again after until about 12:15. So not too bad.
SATURDAY...
— Up around 11:30. Sleeping in to most but not when you consider I went down at about 6:30. Hang around the house... nap during the hockey game and watch a few movies.
SUNDAY...
— Quiet day around... then off to ball. We lose a close one. Supper with Nick, Dusty and Melissa afterwards and then home for some Sunday night TV.
MONDAY...
— More goalie masks in the house! I end a walk of the pond and go to the mailbox to find my miniature masks arrive from the Hockey Hall of Fame. Gerry Cheevers and Grant Fuhr join the Fuhr autographed rookie mask mom and dad gave me on their visit. I’m just a goalie mask junkie. I love to look at them.
There are connections between people. Connections that can span the globe where, without talking to or seeing them, you just know something is wrong. Such connections are most often spoken of between twins. One falls and breaks a leg... the other feels pain. One trapped under a fallen bookshelf... the other feeling a sudden urge to read. Hmm, maybe that isn’t completely right... but you get the idea.
The Brown family has had such a connection. Even though my sister is on the western end of the continent and my parents are in the far east. And even though I’m perched in the middle of them all... we came together last week. No phone, e-mail or text message played any roll. Perhaps we came together in our dreams. But last Wednesday, from coast, to middle, to coast... we all had winter tires installed on our cars.
Sure this isn’t as sexy a connection as those direct to video movies which star Pamela Anderson as a pair of twins. There are no double crosses, murders, or nation wide journeys where one can’t rest until they’ve reached the other, as they lay trapped. But it’s still pretty spooky. Hey, I mean really... if a Doritos chip can look like Jesus, this isn’t beyond the realm of the supernatural.
Some knowledge was shared the night before the event. A quick e-mail exchange between sister and I enabled us to realize we were both about to hit the garages the next day. But the plans were all set in motion well before these e-mails. Edena makes plans of this nature weeks in advance. It may have been first hatched as far back as May. You just really never know.
But in previous years, despite best intentions, I have found myself waiting until after the first major snowfall. When the car needs a good twelve hours of garage time before it’s ready to be picked up. For some reason, this year, something entered my subconscious. And I had to make the move while still able to walk back to work in a fleece and sneakers.
The eeriness peaked upon learning that dad had also brought the car in. Just a casual e-mail discussing the days events. Yet the mention of the snow tires stuck out on the electronic page as if it were written in blood and dripping down the wall. I sat dumbfounded at the coincidence.
Near a week has gone by since the Day of the Tire. I’ve been able to drive about with little need of them. Temperatures have stayed up and roads have remained clear. But this must have happened for a reason.
I suppose I should not be surprised in the fact that I can not understand this. The universe is a complex place... one that we are unable to fully comprehend. If a butterfly’s wings can create hurricanes, I’m sure the Simultaneous Snow Tire Affair also holds a greater meaning.
Last Wednesday, the Brown family set the wheels in motion for something magnificent.
TUESDAY...
— Work... not a real busy day... a staff meeting that meant nothing.
— Bit of TV in the evening.
WEDNESDAY...
— Officially out of CPSIC. It won’t happen until the beginning of December. At that time, it’s back to AFIS for me... mostly night shifts again. Back to eight hour days and regular weekends off. It’ll take getting used to in many ways.
— Movie night. After Phil drops me to get my car (snow tires put on) it’s supper at the mall and then Paranormal Activity at the movies with a crew of us. Sarah and I are the only two to really like it. Jamie thought it was alright. Everyone else (Phil, Jon, Sheila, Julia... disliked it).
THURSDAY...
— Find out that yesterday was a family bonding event from coast to coast... Edena, mom and dad, and I all put snow tires on the cars yesterday.
— Quiet time around the house waiting for night shift. Not a great afternoon nap, so we’ll see if tonight gets tough.
FRIDAY...
— Bad back. Big knot in the middle of the shoulders.
— Two phone calls before 9:30 this morning... which isn’t great when bedtime was about 7:20. Got back to sleep again after until about 12:15. So not too bad.
SATURDAY...
— Up around 11:30. Sleeping in to most but not when you consider I went down at about 6:30. Hang around the house... nap during the hockey game and watch a few movies.
SUNDAY...
— Quiet day around... then off to ball. We lose a close one. Supper with Nick, Dusty and Melissa afterwards and then home for some Sunday night TV.
MONDAY...
— More goalie masks in the house! I end a walk of the pond and go to the mailbox to find my miniature masks arrive from the Hockey Hall of Fame. Gerry Cheevers and Grant Fuhr join the Fuhr autographed rookie mask mom and dad gave me on their visit. I’m just a goalie mask junkie. I love to look at them.
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