Z Effects

I feel better knowing his name was Brock. You see, in a broken telephone way, I heard his name was Rock, and to be outsmarted to the tune of $100,000.00 by a guy named Rock was more than I wanted to bear.

"Friday October 27, 2006 Nat & Drew opened the phone lines at 8am... ...and took call after call of ZFX Guesses.
At 9:39 a.m., Brock of Vancouver Called and made this guess:
A PROPANE TANK VALVE OPENING"

We Have a Winner

To celebrate my birthday, a few of my friends joined Donna and I for a Lions game. We had a few drinks before the game and a few at the game. So by the time we darkened the door of the Kingshead, we were all, well, gooned. In fact, gooned enough for Donna, with just a little push from Claudio Lopez, to enter a beer drinking contest.
Four people lined up on stage - two men and two women. I don't know if it was supposed to be two different competitions. Somehow I don't think it was, but as I've implied already, I'm by no means a reliable witness. Either way, Donna was convinced that she only needed to beat the other woman. The man with the microphone may have had other ideas. None of which needed to be very clear as this contest had absolutely no prize on the line.
Now, the two men finished their respective pints with relative ease. They were neck and neck coming down to the last second, but I can't tell you which one won. I can't tell you because as the host was trying to announce a winner, Donna feeling ignored perhaps, started kicking him.
I believe she was very proud of the tremendous lead she had on the other woman. So proud she demanded recognition and not wanting to even pause in her attempt to finish the pint, all she could muster was, not one, but several kicks. He seemed puzzled. Still drinking her beer, still kicking our host, she started pointing at the other woman's virtually full beer.
Our host tried to ignore her. He tried to announce a winner. He tried to get some distance between himself and this mad woman abusing his shins. Donna would have none of it.
In the end, all he managed to say was, "But your not even finished your beer."

Group of Seven

These men are a few of the members of the Group of Seven. If I were to simply stumble across this photo, I would have assumed them to be businessmen or bankers. Instead, they represent my favourite artists. (Of course, when I say they by no means do I mean to limit the "they" bit to seven. Even without Tom Thompson - the best of the bunch - they numbered more than seven)

Perhaps I'm biased by nationalism. Or maybe, it's that I've seen some of those same places and from the rugged, windblown and bare to the quiet views, twisted and dripping with branches, they captured our landscapes like no one had before. To see a canvas from across the room is stunning.

I forget about them from time to time. They aren't in my art history books. Yet clearly to me, it is not because they don't belong with the likes of Monet and Turner. So thank you Barbara, for reminding me once again how much I love their work. I love the book you sent.

(Oh yes, and mother, they are so much better than those English bed-wetting types. I fart in their general direction. )

Loius Garneau

Louis Garneau joins the sample sale!

Wet Dog Soup

OK, I know Miso soup has nothing to do with canines. And I don't mean this as some ill-informed slur. (Which I suppose implies that there are well-informed slurs.)
Anyway, it is just that I think Miso soup smells a lot like a wet dog. It doesn't taste like a wet dog smells, but a good portion of taste is smell.
So, I finally found a sushi restaurant who serves a miso soup that is remarkably wet dog odour free.
(It's in Kerrisdale, just west of the Run Inn and by the way, I understand you can order a Sparky Maki if you are so inclined)
Anyway it is fairly tasty and I was all excited by the dog free bit, so I took this picture. And well, I guess it is fair to say that Miso soup is also pretty gross looking. Without stirring it looks like brain soup.
I guess Miso soup and I aren't meant to get along.

Sample Sale November 25th and 26th

Reebok and Saucony are teaming up once again for their semi-annual sample sale here in Vancouver. It's on the weekend of November 25th and 26th at the Granville Island Hotel. Cash Only. Cash Only. Cash Only.
Here's a link to the website for more details: www.sample-sales.blogspot.com
Feel free to send out the link and bookmark the page, as we will use that site to announce future sample sales as well.

Once Again the World is a Safer Place

Finally the people of Attleboro, Mass. have come to theitr senses. (I for one have never met a sensible person from Attleboro) They have cautiously followed in the footsteps (not too closely mind you) of the visionaries of Cheyenne, Wyo and Spokane, Wash. At last, one more school is safe from the wreckless hazards of recess horseplay - "a time when accidents can happen." Or so said Willett elementary school principal Gaylene Heppe.

Well that was then. Gaylene has not just approved an anti dodgeball ban. No, that safety measure has been in place for years. Willett Elementary is now free of touch football and the always dangerous tag. (Well, actually any unsupervised chase game is banned. And well it should be.)

Sure there are nay sayers. Debbie Laferriere thinks that "playing tag is just part of being a kid." Clearly this woman has no regard for the safety of her children let alone everyone else's. Reckless fool. She probably encourages running with scissors.

Celeste D'Elia has a much better head on her shoulders. She said that her son feels safer because of the rule. (He has a bright future, that kid. Next step: Hall monitor - Then: The world.) You see, like many sensible parents, she has "witnessed enough near collisions."

NEAR COLLISIONS. And for what? So a few kids can have their fun? That's not the kind of world I want to live in. Thank you Celeste for standing up for all of us.

Sleep Over at Timmy's

I recently found myself waiting in line in a Tim Hortons. It was downtown Toronto and very early in the morning. I was there to buy a breakfast sandwich and I won't be back any time soon. In part, because I don't live in Toronto. In part, because I don't really like Tim Hortons. In part, because the breakfast sandwich left a lot to be desired. And in part, because the other patrons kind of freaked me out.
I'm guessing that they were, after a long night of clubbing, waiting for the subway to open. What they looked like was a group intent on catching a ride on a nearby comet. Creepy.

Mouse Control?

Do we need an International Office Games? What sort of everyday mundane tasks would that involve? Perhaps speed dialing. Who knows? Anyway Sparky sent me this link for this time wasting game that tests mouse control. Maybe he's in training now for some future games.
Keep it up, Sparky, Keep it up!

The Final Borthwick?

(Note: for those not familiar with the Borthwick see this link - Borthwick )

As written on the back of a postcard:

"Dear Paul + Donna,
I saw a herse (is that how you spell that
word?)drive by the other day. A white one
with a light on top and I presumed it was
carrying a coffin. In the backseat window was
a computer printed sign - nothing fancy - that
said "BORTHWICK". And so I got to
wondering. If Borthwick were actually in
there having snuck off to his final slumber
without having said goodbye, but then if I
saw him or his hearse, would that mean in
the end he had actually pulled a

WANLESS??

...Laura xx"

Kiss My What?

Despite the overwhelming weight of an upcoming down payment and the subsequent mortgage payments (or perhaps because of that same weight), we got away this weekend. Nine of us rented a cottage on Bowen Island. It's a small island that sits in our harbour. Only twenty minutes by ferry and yet a world away. It is a quiet island that reminds me a little of cottage country in Northern Ontario. Or it did until we arrived.

The view from the cabin's large deck was spectacular. We looked out over a steep wooded hill into a bay and out to the ocean. Several islands broke up the horizon and there was a nautical map on the wall inside the cabin that let us take a decent guess as to which island was which.

Al noticed, in the middle of the bay, a clump of reeds or brush. It was hard to say what it was. All that Al could say for certain was that it was moving. Funny enough, all that Claude could say for certain was that it wasn't moving. And the first of two fine wagers was made. Island or flotsam: loser to do one hundred push ups in increments or in full at the winners behest.

If it was moving, it was moving too slowly to be sure. At least at first and we immediately postponed the judgment till morning. But, before dark it was clear that the island was gone. Claude's only hope was for the flotsam to get caught in some kind of eddy and be slung back into the bay.

Morning came and in the clear light it was even clearer who had lost.

Then came tennis. They had a nice court. It was in good shape, with a decent net. But it was the most beautiful tennis court I've ever seen, because of the view. It also looked out into the bay.

Now what goes around, comes around and the tennis court was complete with what might be a royal box or perhaps a press box. In our case, it was simply the peanut gallery. It was from this box, maybe 14 feet above the court, that we lobbed our comments and snide remarks. It was from there that we were able to goad Al into betting Donna: the loser to kiss the winners feet five times.

Al struggled trying to avoid kissing Donna's feet for so long that the moon came out. Ah, getting back to nature. Isn't it great. Thanks M. for that little bit of nature.

Whitecaps are the Champions

That's it. Season's over. We're the Champs. Here's to the Whitecaps. Here's to the Southside. Well done.