Work on a Tuesday
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
The silence broken by a co-worker’s throat.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
Again... twice within a minute.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
Twice a minute... every minute... minute after minute... after hour... after day... after week... after month.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
Insanity comes from all kinds of reasons.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
An ordinary moment in time driving nice people to thoughts of violence.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
He ventures to the bathroom and the office murmurs unheard complaints.
Send him home... shove him in another room... kill him, kill him to make it stop.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
His return is met with office silence... unable to voice the issues to the face... issues we all feel.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
Who will be first to crack?
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
Who will leap to their feet... pointing a Pythonian Reaper finger... “shut up, shut up...”
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
Such reaction will be of a hero... accepted by all... praised as legendary for years.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
But it’s not done. Decency clings to the society of work... fraying with each bout... but remaining... for now.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
We discuss his murder... two of us...
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
Unviolent by nature...
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
plotting a share of the event...
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
Pulling the trigger together.
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
A moment of comradery...
Uhhh hmmmm mmmm mmmmm.
A beauty in the violence of peace.
This is work...
On a Tuesday.
MONDAY...
— Not much sleep last night. Got to sleep around 1:00 and the alarm goes off at 5:30. Oh dear.
— Work goes okay all the same. I’m up and down a lot... that helps. Lunch with Shannon and after work I go to the old slow pitch team’s ball game. Keep score and catch up with some of the old team mates.
TUESDAY...
— Rough day tired wise. I wake at 3:30 this morning and sleep no more. Work is difficult due to two straight poor sleep nights
WEDNESDAY...
— Mornings at work are tough. Even though I slept better last night, very tired until lunch.
— Post lunch earthquake. That doesn’t happen every day. Magnitude 5.0 quake had me first thinking a truck hit the building and then wondering if one of the other buildings in the complex was bombed. We all go outside for half an hour while the buildings are checked out. Work is pretty much done at that point.
— Longest tennis match in history... and it’s still not over. When it’s 59 games a piece in the fifth set, you know there’s something crazy going on. Ten hours of play over two days... day three coming up.
THURSDAY...
— Only thing I will mention is, for the first time ever, I slept through my alarm. Lucky I woke 10 minutes later and looked at the clock.
FRIDAY...
— Exhausting day... the drive home showed it with the feeling as though a massive weight lifts. Lay low and talk on the phone with sister for a while during the NHL Draft.
SATURDAY...
— House day with lots of Playstation baseball. Up early because they told me they’d be around to paint the front door, needing me to open it, between 8:00 and 3:00. Hate the non-narrowed time line. They show just before 1:00.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Making It Up As I Go Along #421
Land of Cougars and Shirtless Firefighters
It’s always been said that men are more concerned with looks while women see beyond that... they look for goodness, or loyalty, or a sense of humour... or some such unseen thing.
Well it’s either in my office or in the world as a whole... but whichever it is, I believe this belief is a thing of the past. In fact, not only would I argue men are equal to women now when it comes to superficiality vs. seeing beyond looks... I think we’re better.
Political correctness and the feminizing of society has made it wrong for a man to outwardly objectify a woman. No matter what a woman wears, or does to her hair... no man is ever allowed to object. Any man who does so will become a villain. In fact, the odd thing is that women get dressed up and put on the makeup more for their own benefit than for men’s. The few times a man would speak negatively about a hair style or the clothes a woman has on, the most common answer is “what would you know, you’re a man.”
Swimsuit calenders do still exist... but they are usually looked down upon. The devices of the lonely single man, living in a basement... he may or may not be a serial killer in the making.
And guys do still notice attractive women... still look at tight shorts, long legs, and cleavage. But any such notice is now expected to be done privately... quietly... and nonchalantly. Guys who make more of a deal of such things are mocked by women. Told to grow up. And called “silly boys”.
Looking at the people I know, I would think the five most superficial ones are all women. I’ve seen topless fire fighter calenders proudly displayed within the workplace. I’ve heard more than a few women proclaim how much they love a tall men. And the show put on by the girls in my office when a man walks by in full police uniform (or if a fire alarm goes off, bringing the above mentioned calender boys to the scene) is anything but subdued.
The latest example... the World Cup of Soccer.
Facebook has become the land of the overheated. Female status updates have many all capitalized words with many extra vowels... and many many exclamation marks. “OOOOOOH BABY!!!!”. “IIIIITALY!!!!” (Proclaiming admiration of the players more than support for the team). “HEEEEE’S GORGEOUS!!!!”
I can only imagine the reaction if Facebook fellas began hooting and hollering about female tennis players during Wimbledon. We’d be silly boys... or showing proof of how we don’t think with our heads.
It’s not so much that I take offense to any of this. I will admit to some level of offense when I’m standing right next to a few girls and they proclaim that if any guy stands under six feet tall, they don’t find him attractive. And I find it ridiculous that a woman would take pride in the amount of toe cleavage she’s showing (a term I didn’t even know existed until about a year ago). But I think the moral high ground, in the world of gender superficiality, has become very much up for grabs.
MONDAY...
— Work is long and somewhat dull. But get through it all the same.
— Watched a good documentary called Bio-Dad... all about searching for the sperm donor. During the making, the documentarian finds out he had a daughter he never knew about (through an affair 23 years prior). And he finds out his sister is really only his half sister (they had both thought they had the same donor as a father). Lots of stuff going on.
TUESDAY...
— Done with physio. About time. Tired of the people who go to that place. Today, while on the stationary bike, I heard the guy across from me yawning like he just woke up and it was 6:30 on a Sunday morning... then he let one rip. Too comfy fella.
WEDNESDAY...
— Pre work lunch with Megan is fun. Good catching up.
— Work is fairly uninspiring. This job would work much better if we had one week off each month.
THURSDAY...
— Run down, sore, headache. I stay home from work. Some TV... a short walk in the early afternoon to see if the outdoors refreshes... not much else.
FRIDAY...
— Long day. Up at 7:00 to go to Mazda with the car. There three hours waiting... good thing that the Bullpen Gospels is a good read.
— A few hours lazing before work... then working alone. Half the shift in certification and half in AFIS. Eat outside with Annick... Chinese food... and It’s nice out.
— Groceries after work. Load up this time... and gas for the car after that. So I’m not relaxing in the house until a few minutes before midnight.
SATURDAY...
— Lazy Saturday. Sleep in a bit... play video game baseball for a bit... watch some soccer and some real baseball on TV.
It’s always been said that men are more concerned with looks while women see beyond that... they look for goodness, or loyalty, or a sense of humour... or some such unseen thing.
Well it’s either in my office or in the world as a whole... but whichever it is, I believe this belief is a thing of the past. In fact, not only would I argue men are equal to women now when it comes to superficiality vs. seeing beyond looks... I think we’re better.
Political correctness and the feminizing of society has made it wrong for a man to outwardly objectify a woman. No matter what a woman wears, or does to her hair... no man is ever allowed to object. Any man who does so will become a villain. In fact, the odd thing is that women get dressed up and put on the makeup more for their own benefit than for men’s. The few times a man would speak negatively about a hair style or the clothes a woman has on, the most common answer is “what would you know, you’re a man.”
Swimsuit calenders do still exist... but they are usually looked down upon. The devices of the lonely single man, living in a basement... he may or may not be a serial killer in the making.
And guys do still notice attractive women... still look at tight shorts, long legs, and cleavage. But any such notice is now expected to be done privately... quietly... and nonchalantly. Guys who make more of a deal of such things are mocked by women. Told to grow up. And called “silly boys”.
Looking at the people I know, I would think the five most superficial ones are all women. I’ve seen topless fire fighter calenders proudly displayed within the workplace. I’ve heard more than a few women proclaim how much they love a tall men. And the show put on by the girls in my office when a man walks by in full police uniform (or if a fire alarm goes off, bringing the above mentioned calender boys to the scene) is anything but subdued.
The latest example... the World Cup of Soccer.
Facebook has become the land of the overheated. Female status updates have many all capitalized words with many extra vowels... and many many exclamation marks. “OOOOOOH BABY!!!!”. “IIIIITALY!!!!” (Proclaiming admiration of the players more than support for the team). “HEEEEE’S GORGEOUS!!!!”
I can only imagine the reaction if Facebook fellas began hooting and hollering about female tennis players during Wimbledon. We’d be silly boys... or showing proof of how we don’t think with our heads.
It’s not so much that I take offense to any of this. I will admit to some level of offense when I’m standing right next to a few girls and they proclaim that if any guy stands under six feet tall, they don’t find him attractive. And I find it ridiculous that a woman would take pride in the amount of toe cleavage she’s showing (a term I didn’t even know existed until about a year ago). But I think the moral high ground, in the world of gender superficiality, has become very much up for grabs.
MONDAY...
— Work is long and somewhat dull. But get through it all the same.
— Watched a good documentary called Bio-Dad... all about searching for the sperm donor. During the making, the documentarian finds out he had a daughter he never knew about (through an affair 23 years prior). And he finds out his sister is really only his half sister (they had both thought they had the same donor as a father). Lots of stuff going on.
TUESDAY...
— Done with physio. About time. Tired of the people who go to that place. Today, while on the stationary bike, I heard the guy across from me yawning like he just woke up and it was 6:30 on a Sunday morning... then he let one rip. Too comfy fella.
WEDNESDAY...
— Pre work lunch with Megan is fun. Good catching up.
— Work is fairly uninspiring. This job would work much better if we had one week off each month.
THURSDAY...
— Run down, sore, headache. I stay home from work. Some TV... a short walk in the early afternoon to see if the outdoors refreshes... not much else.
FRIDAY...
— Long day. Up at 7:00 to go to Mazda with the car. There three hours waiting... good thing that the Bullpen Gospels is a good read.
— A few hours lazing before work... then working alone. Half the shift in certification and half in AFIS. Eat outside with Annick... Chinese food... and It’s nice out.
— Groceries after work. Load up this time... and gas for the car after that. So I’m not relaxing in the house until a few minutes before midnight.
SATURDAY...
— Lazy Saturday. Sleep in a bit... play video game baseball for a bit... watch some soccer and some real baseball on TV.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Making It Up As I Go Along #420
The World’s Game
The World Cup of Soccer is here again. An odd event. I’m usually drawn to it myself, but I’m not a big soccer fan. In fact, I find it strange that people’s biggest hockey complaints, over the last ten years, have been predominant aspects of soccer. Low scoring... too much diving... too many ties. Hockey hold conferences and debates to search for ways to fix the problems. Soccer is celebrated as the greatest game on earth.
So I can’t demand much change out of soccer. Who am I to say the game loved by more than any other needs to change. But I still find myself puzzled how it has escaped the criticism that hockey has endured.
For a short time, I played soccer. Back when I was a kid, I was put in the city league with all the other thirteen year olds. Many of the kids were also hockey players. I’d been in school with them, seeing them walk through the halls with their hockey jackets. I was expected to give way to these people. Step aside. They were royalty.
And here I am, playing alongside them on the soccer pitch. I wasn’t very good.
Practices had us run. Run around the field. Run towards the goal. Run this way and run that way. Always a good sprinter, but never a long distance type of runner, I’d often have to be prodded along to keep up.
The fine details of the rules of the game weren’t within me. I knew not to grab the ball with my hands. I knew which goal to go for. When there was a throw in and when it was a free kick. But direct free kick versus indirect. Or why sometimes a goaltender would pick up the ball and other times just kick at it as I would... I never understood. This type of thing gave more reason for coaches to yell at me and shake their heads at my hesitation.
My skill came accidently and sporadically. As a defender, I once dove and kicked the ball off an attacker’s foot. He tripped over my foot afterwards and all was accepted. I was congratulated and accepted.
Later that game, the same play occurred and I dove for the ball with increased confidence. I missed the ball, and got the attacker’s legs. And the finite difference... that inch I was too slow to make up... it got me a scolding from the referee and the attacker a free kick. Thirteen year old me took it as failure, and my defensive aggression disappeared.
Blood also caused me to shrink away. I remember a practice where we took kicks at our own net, giving our goal keeper some work. He was one of the leaders. Never shaken and always in command. But on this day, one of the kicks brought his head towards a goal post. And the square block style of wooden post won the encounter... a corner of wood got the best of his scalp... and the always in command, never shaken leader squealed in pain.
A coach poured water over his head and what left the bottle as pure and clean left his hair and showered to the ground red and violently. For me, it was as if I had seen someone’s throat slit there in front of me. Soccer suddenly became dangerous.
I did have good times playing soccer. The majority of the good times came in the form of hockey. My favourite hockey player back then was Guy Lafleur. I always loved watching him fly over the ice, zooming by slower players with flowing blonde hair acting as zipping lines of comic book super heros... those lines that trail Superman or the Flash to show the speedy motion on a static picture. This was Guy Lafleur’s hair... making Guy a real life super hero.
Having long blonde hair myself, and being able to run as fast as anyone, I would run along a soccer pitch dreaming of being Super Hero Guy. But my dreams stuck with the motion of the hair. Maybe if I had dreamed of leaping over defenders with the ball remaining in my possession until I would launch a screaming kick into the top corners of the net... maybe then I’d have been something. But my dreams remained simplistic and it put me on the pitch as a running fool.
I knew where the ball was, and would run towards it, making little jukes and jives along the way so I could feel my hair flutter behind me... the Superman theme song on replay in my mind... and a change in possession of the ball happening several seconds before I would realize. Team mates adjusted to the ever changing play at a moment’s notice... I juked and jived with “da da duh duh daaa, DA Da daaaa” playing in my head.
But one day, I once again became sporadically good. In all previous matches, my presence on the field gave no goal keeper any pause. I’d never hit the net with a kick. But in this game, things came together. I laced one kick high and to the right, and it forced the goal keeper to make a fine stop.
And a short time later, I walloped an even better strike even higher and further to the right... beyond the goal keeper’s reaches... it echoed off of the upper post... inches from my first goal.
Days later, my coach called me at home. Checking to make sure I’d be at the next game. After weeks of scolding and ignoring, he must have felt like he’d finally reached me. He must have believed that he had beaten through the Guy Lafleur dreams and Superman theme song and made me a real soccer player.
But I was not able to make that next game. Nor the game after. My greatest match came in my last game prior to summer vacation. I told my coach I’d be out of town for the next few weeks and the disappointment I heard on the other end of the phone sealed my fate as a soccer player. From my coach’s point of view... in a soccer sense of the phrase... I was dead to him.
I returned from vacation but never re-found the rhythm of that greatest game. And my coach looked down at me. A dedicated player would have found away around summer vacation. Would have dictated the facts to my parents that I would stay home alone, in order to guide my soccer team. I remained... dead to him.
But my dedication was not at his level. And I returned to Guy Lafleur hair dreams and Superman theme as I stayed back from the most intense action, running juke jiving routes and rarely seeing the ball. Playing the world’s most popular game, wishing I was a French Canadian hockey player instead.
MONDAY...
— Depression, thy name is physio. Knee feels okay but I wasn’t able to do the entire treadmill routine at the higher difficulty and, as a result, they want me back on Friday... when originally, Wednesday was to be my last day.
— Evening shift is ok.
TUESDAY...
— Work is long... burger at the chip wagon is great though. A pre-work bike ride was nice but the gears still need some tuning. May be bringing it back to the shop to see if they can smooth it out.
WEDNESDAY...
— Treadmill difficulty is dropped some compared to Monday and I make it fine. More to come Friday... be over soon!
— Nice to see Hawks win the cup. I’m not a fan of the yappy, in your face stuff that a few of them do... but it’s a cool hockey city and Toews is good in my books.
THURSDAY...
— Dentist in the morning. A little cavity. Oh well.
— Work at 1:30. Kind of nice. Gets me home earlier although dayshift awaits.
FRIDAY...
— Work days for physio. Physio takes a good three hours of annoying time. Stupid kid playing with balls... sisters talking to each other from across the room (with me on an exercise bike between them)... just too much stuff.
— Out for a bite and a few drinks with Roz and Phil in the evening. Nice times.
SATURDAY...
— Some PPV UFC tonight. Good fights with good chilli to eat. Before that it was a day of soccer and computer baseball. I did walk to the bar for the UFC... so a half hour of exercise.
The World Cup of Soccer is here again. An odd event. I’m usually drawn to it myself, but I’m not a big soccer fan. In fact, I find it strange that people’s biggest hockey complaints, over the last ten years, have been predominant aspects of soccer. Low scoring... too much diving... too many ties. Hockey hold conferences and debates to search for ways to fix the problems. Soccer is celebrated as the greatest game on earth.
So I can’t demand much change out of soccer. Who am I to say the game loved by more than any other needs to change. But I still find myself puzzled how it has escaped the criticism that hockey has endured.
For a short time, I played soccer. Back when I was a kid, I was put in the city league with all the other thirteen year olds. Many of the kids were also hockey players. I’d been in school with them, seeing them walk through the halls with their hockey jackets. I was expected to give way to these people. Step aside. They were royalty.
And here I am, playing alongside them on the soccer pitch. I wasn’t very good.
Practices had us run. Run around the field. Run towards the goal. Run this way and run that way. Always a good sprinter, but never a long distance type of runner, I’d often have to be prodded along to keep up.
The fine details of the rules of the game weren’t within me. I knew not to grab the ball with my hands. I knew which goal to go for. When there was a throw in and when it was a free kick. But direct free kick versus indirect. Or why sometimes a goaltender would pick up the ball and other times just kick at it as I would... I never understood. This type of thing gave more reason for coaches to yell at me and shake their heads at my hesitation.
My skill came accidently and sporadically. As a defender, I once dove and kicked the ball off an attacker’s foot. He tripped over my foot afterwards and all was accepted. I was congratulated and accepted.
Later that game, the same play occurred and I dove for the ball with increased confidence. I missed the ball, and got the attacker’s legs. And the finite difference... that inch I was too slow to make up... it got me a scolding from the referee and the attacker a free kick. Thirteen year old me took it as failure, and my defensive aggression disappeared.
Blood also caused me to shrink away. I remember a practice where we took kicks at our own net, giving our goal keeper some work. He was one of the leaders. Never shaken and always in command. But on this day, one of the kicks brought his head towards a goal post. And the square block style of wooden post won the encounter... a corner of wood got the best of his scalp... and the always in command, never shaken leader squealed in pain.
A coach poured water over his head and what left the bottle as pure and clean left his hair and showered to the ground red and violently. For me, it was as if I had seen someone’s throat slit there in front of me. Soccer suddenly became dangerous.
I did have good times playing soccer. The majority of the good times came in the form of hockey. My favourite hockey player back then was Guy Lafleur. I always loved watching him fly over the ice, zooming by slower players with flowing blonde hair acting as zipping lines of comic book super heros... those lines that trail Superman or the Flash to show the speedy motion on a static picture. This was Guy Lafleur’s hair... making Guy a real life super hero.
Having long blonde hair myself, and being able to run as fast as anyone, I would run along a soccer pitch dreaming of being Super Hero Guy. But my dreams stuck with the motion of the hair. Maybe if I had dreamed of leaping over defenders with the ball remaining in my possession until I would launch a screaming kick into the top corners of the net... maybe then I’d have been something. But my dreams remained simplistic and it put me on the pitch as a running fool.
I knew where the ball was, and would run towards it, making little jukes and jives along the way so I could feel my hair flutter behind me... the Superman theme song on replay in my mind... and a change in possession of the ball happening several seconds before I would realize. Team mates adjusted to the ever changing play at a moment’s notice... I juked and jived with “da da duh duh daaa, DA Da daaaa” playing in my head.
But one day, I once again became sporadically good. In all previous matches, my presence on the field gave no goal keeper any pause. I’d never hit the net with a kick. But in this game, things came together. I laced one kick high and to the right, and it forced the goal keeper to make a fine stop.
And a short time later, I walloped an even better strike even higher and further to the right... beyond the goal keeper’s reaches... it echoed off of the upper post... inches from my first goal.
Days later, my coach called me at home. Checking to make sure I’d be at the next game. After weeks of scolding and ignoring, he must have felt like he’d finally reached me. He must have believed that he had beaten through the Guy Lafleur dreams and Superman theme song and made me a real soccer player.
But I was not able to make that next game. Nor the game after. My greatest match came in my last game prior to summer vacation. I told my coach I’d be out of town for the next few weeks and the disappointment I heard on the other end of the phone sealed my fate as a soccer player. From my coach’s point of view... in a soccer sense of the phrase... I was dead to him.
I returned from vacation but never re-found the rhythm of that greatest game. And my coach looked down at me. A dedicated player would have found away around summer vacation. Would have dictated the facts to my parents that I would stay home alone, in order to guide my soccer team. I remained... dead to him.
But my dedication was not at his level. And I returned to Guy Lafleur hair dreams and Superman theme as I stayed back from the most intense action, running juke jiving routes and rarely seeing the ball. Playing the world’s most popular game, wishing I was a French Canadian hockey player instead.
MONDAY...
— Depression, thy name is physio. Knee feels okay but I wasn’t able to do the entire treadmill routine at the higher difficulty and, as a result, they want me back on Friday... when originally, Wednesday was to be my last day.
— Evening shift is ok.
TUESDAY...
— Work is long... burger at the chip wagon is great though. A pre-work bike ride was nice but the gears still need some tuning. May be bringing it back to the shop to see if they can smooth it out.
WEDNESDAY...
— Treadmill difficulty is dropped some compared to Monday and I make it fine. More to come Friday... be over soon!
— Nice to see Hawks win the cup. I’m not a fan of the yappy, in your face stuff that a few of them do... but it’s a cool hockey city and Toews is good in my books.
THURSDAY...
— Dentist in the morning. A little cavity. Oh well.
— Work at 1:30. Kind of nice. Gets me home earlier although dayshift awaits.
FRIDAY...
— Work days for physio. Physio takes a good three hours of annoying time. Stupid kid playing with balls... sisters talking to each other from across the room (with me on an exercise bike between them)... just too much stuff.
— Out for a bite and a few drinks with Roz and Phil in the evening. Nice times.
SATURDAY...
— Some PPV UFC tonight. Good fights with good chilli to eat. Before that it was a day of soccer and computer baseball. I did walk to the bar for the UFC... so a half hour of exercise.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Making It Up As I Go Along #419
Burning Ottawa
Distant fires feel so close.
Smokey haze hangs throughout.
Rising sun, a climbing spot of blood
The smell hangs with the haze.
Flashing memories of fire.
In house, on beach, at camp.
Home fires crackling a blanket of warmth.
Sitting cross-legged and staring.
A dog curled alongside, content.
Gathered with family by the sea.
Watching flames climb higher than me.
Watching the light dance upon an uncle’s face.
Around the camp fire.
Passing on stories of fun and horror.
Slurping roast mussels that had been sea harvested hours ago.
MONDAY...
— Fires in Quebec make it smokey in Ottawa. Haze makes for a nice sunrise and it smells like campfire for much of the day.
— Physio is a pain. I’m forgotten or over looked three times and this extends my stay to make it a 2 hour 45 minute time. Forget my water bottle when I leave so I go back, get some groceries while I’m in the area, and also a shwarma from Yala Yala. Makes the return worth it.
TUESDAY...
— Proof it’s easy to make a story in hockey. Chris Pronger took the winning pucks away from the Black Hawks in the first two games of the finals. And it’s talked about more than any other issue from the two games. It’s nothing.
— Knee is a bit tired today. No pain but just feels a little stiffer than the past few days. Give and take.
WEDNESDAY...
— Annoying day at work. I just generally work better in the evening. Plus I’d kill for a cubical rather than working in this bloody open concept.
— Physio is good and a little thunder storm in the evening catches the attention.
— Poor Armando Galarraga in Detroit. Got robbed of a perfect game by a horrible call with two out in the ninth. But good for Jim Joyce (the ump) who really stood up and took responsibility. Both men acting with class, understanding and respect. Feel bad for both of them. Much more inspiring story than “who took the game puck at the end of the hockey game” silliness. Good example of why baseball is edging hockey in my books.
THURSDAY...
— Before work, I watch the Bettman vs McLean interview online. Gary Bettman is another reason why baseball is edging hockey. Slime. And I’ve never seen a sports league so willing to take it’s biggest fans for granted. The NHL bows to American network TV and cling to the hope of American dollars, all the while thinking “Whatever we decide, Canada will be there”. This attitude will come back to haunt the NHL someday. Probably will take another couple of work stoppages though.
FRIDAY...
— Empty office, more or less. Five people in all of QC with another two or three in certification. Weird... but makes my day better.
— Physio is pretty good. Knee feels good but I have to fight and concentrate to make it through this new treadmill program. Didn’t want to fly off the back of it.
— Some baseball... less hockey... and some of the Olympic blue rays I got... that’s the evening.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day. Escape From Alcatraz... first time I ever saw the movie. Never realized how many ideas Shawshank Redemption borrowed from it.
— Some baseball on TV and much on the video game. Fun times in the most realistic baseball game I’ve ever played. I’m playing in AA ball and struggling. Was in the Blue Jays system but they traded me for Ted Lilly. I guess, in video game world, Toronto is making a push for a playoff spot. And I’m off to play for the Cubs AA team instead.
Distant fires feel so close.
Smokey haze hangs throughout.
Rising sun, a climbing spot of blood
The smell hangs with the haze.
Flashing memories of fire.
In house, on beach, at camp.
Home fires crackling a blanket of warmth.
Sitting cross-legged and staring.
A dog curled alongside, content.
Gathered with family by the sea.
Watching flames climb higher than me.
Watching the light dance upon an uncle’s face.
Around the camp fire.
Passing on stories of fun and horror.
Slurping roast mussels that had been sea harvested hours ago.
MONDAY...
— Fires in Quebec make it smokey in Ottawa. Haze makes for a nice sunrise and it smells like campfire for much of the day.
— Physio is a pain. I’m forgotten or over looked three times and this extends my stay to make it a 2 hour 45 minute time. Forget my water bottle when I leave so I go back, get some groceries while I’m in the area, and also a shwarma from Yala Yala. Makes the return worth it.
TUESDAY...
— Proof it’s easy to make a story in hockey. Chris Pronger took the winning pucks away from the Black Hawks in the first two games of the finals. And it’s talked about more than any other issue from the two games. It’s nothing.
— Knee is a bit tired today. No pain but just feels a little stiffer than the past few days. Give and take.
WEDNESDAY...
— Annoying day at work. I just generally work better in the evening. Plus I’d kill for a cubical rather than working in this bloody open concept.
— Physio is good and a little thunder storm in the evening catches the attention.
— Poor Armando Galarraga in Detroit. Got robbed of a perfect game by a horrible call with two out in the ninth. But good for Jim Joyce (the ump) who really stood up and took responsibility. Both men acting with class, understanding and respect. Feel bad for both of them. Much more inspiring story than “who took the game puck at the end of the hockey game” silliness. Good example of why baseball is edging hockey in my books.
THURSDAY...
— Before work, I watch the Bettman vs McLean interview online. Gary Bettman is another reason why baseball is edging hockey. Slime. And I’ve never seen a sports league so willing to take it’s biggest fans for granted. The NHL bows to American network TV and cling to the hope of American dollars, all the while thinking “Whatever we decide, Canada will be there”. This attitude will come back to haunt the NHL someday. Probably will take another couple of work stoppages though.
FRIDAY...
— Empty office, more or less. Five people in all of QC with another two or three in certification. Weird... but makes my day better.
— Physio is pretty good. Knee feels good but I have to fight and concentrate to make it through this new treadmill program. Didn’t want to fly off the back of it.
— Some baseball... less hockey... and some of the Olympic blue rays I got... that’s the evening.
SATURDAY...
— Quiet day. Escape From Alcatraz... first time I ever saw the movie. Never realized how many ideas Shawshank Redemption borrowed from it.
— Some baseball on TV and much on the video game. Fun times in the most realistic baseball game I’ve ever played. I’m playing in AA ball and struggling. Was in the Blue Jays system but they traded me for Ted Lilly. I guess, in video game world, Toronto is making a push for a playoff spot. And I’m off to play for the Cubs AA team instead.
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