.

Roy o' Roy

2008-01-31T21:24:00.000-08:00

I don't mean to pick on Roy Arden. I've never met the man. I'm sure I've laid eyes on him, but I can't pretend to know him. In fact I assume I've seen him because I was at his opening tonight at the Monte Clark Gallery. The irony of which doesn't escape me.
After seeing his work at the Vancouver Art Gallery, you may recall that I ranted about the quality of art in our cities art galleries and suggested that anyone who wanted to see some interesting work would have better luck on the South Granville Rise. If you haven't been to Monte Clark Gallery, I guess I should tell you that it is in fact on the South Granville Rise. So that shows you what I know - not too damn much.
Here's to you Roy - whether I get you or not, you're a much more successful artist than I am.

AFRO ROBICS

2008-01-27T02:01:00.000-08:00

That's what the sign said. It wasn't a big yellow sign on wheels with a trailer hitch. It wasn't the kind that people rent and park outside of their store when they are having a sale, but it did have the same style of lettering.
It was a big white sign in front of the community center not far from the parking lot where I saw Ninjas. When I saw the Ninjas, which was after I saw the sign, I started to doubt that I had seen the words AFRO ROBICS. I started to second guess myself. Perhaps it did say aerobics.
But that wasn't my first thought. My first thought, before seeing the Ninjas, was that they had lost their letter E's and thought that an F was close enough. I couldn't explain the gap and I was thinking about the gap when I saw the Ninjas, which as I've said made me question myself.
But in the end, they meant AFRO ROBICS. Who knew?

Ninjas

2008-01-27T01:58:00.000-08:00

I was out for a run and I saw Ninjas training in the park. They were swinging swords at each other in what looked an awful lot like choreographed moves, but of course I'm no Ninja. I just feel fortunate to have seen them in the wild and I suppose, fortunate that they did not see me.

Unlikeable Characters

2008-01-17T19:57:00.000-08:00

The Hollywood on Broadway is showing a pretty good double feature right now. Good in the sense that both films are good, but also in the sense that they are well paired. Some would say that 2 Days in Paris is a comedy and Before the Devil Knows Your Dead is a tragedy and so they aren't well paired. But I would argue that they are both about unlikeable misfits and frankly 2 Days in Paris would have been a hell of a lot better if it ended with a break up. Instead it ended, well ... how did it end? What exactly was going on in the very end. I don't know, but I wanted them to dump each other, which would not have been tragic.

Local Theater

2008-01-15T07:20:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it is a pseudo New Years resolution, but I just don't think I go to enough live theater. Donna and I had a good run one year where we went to several shows of varying sizes and we really enjoyed it. And since then, it has always been the sort of thing one us would bring up from time to time.
"You know, we should go to more plays."
"Your right, we should."
As simple as that. Except that we don't. It is just that sort of thing we say we should do and then forget about it. Last night we tried to break that run. We went to the Vancouver Playhouse to see The Blonde, the Brunette, and the Vengeful Redhead. It is a one woman show with actress Lucy Peacock playing 7 different characters. To be frank, outside of playing a child, she does an excellent job. Her transformations were masterful. My hats off to Peacock.
So I say pseudo resolution because I didn't really think of it until after New Year's day, but I'm hoping last night kicked off a string of performances for us.

Uspset Sunday

2008-01-14T07:57:00.000-08:00

Wow, both favourites go through on Saturday and both upsets advance on Sunday. I feel like it has set us up for a less interesting Sunday next weekend. The favourites are once again the home teams and I am now really hoping for a Brady/Favre match up.

NFL Weekend

2008-01-12T08:03:00.000-08:00

No surprise that the betting money is on homefield advantage today. And while I can't blame them, I for one am looking forward to seeing the games this weekend. I admit I have no faith in our Seahawks. But I didn't have any faith last week either, so clearly my faith ain't required. I do have faith in Belichick, but Jacksonville did look good in Pittsburgh. Sundays games should be closer.
At this point some epic battles are still possible for the big show: Patriots vs Anyone for the undefeated season, Patriots vs Cowboys for the T.O. vs Moss show, Colts vs Giants for the Manning show. At least one of those possibilities disappears this weekend.
But I suppose what I am actually hoping for is for all the home teams to win this week, because I think that would give us the four top QBs going into next weekend all playing for the big game. That would be exciting.

NFL
Sat, Jan 12
Seattle at Green Bay Green Bay -9 1:30 PM
Jacksonville at New England New England -13.5 5:00 PM

Sun, Jan 13
San Diego at Indianapolis Indianaplolis -9.5 10:00 AM
N.Y. Giants at Dallas Dallas -9 1:30 PM

Happy Birthday

2008-01-11T14:50:00.000-08:00

Let the festival begin. Donna's Birthday celebration begins today. While this festival has been known to stretch out over a month, there are only two days of festivity planned this year, or at least so far.

Best Ads

2008-01-10T14:33:00.000-08:00

Time has published their top ten TV ads of 2007. Notably missing is the Mac vs PC series. A couple of their choices are questionable, but some of these are really good. My favourites are listed below. Click on them for links.
Dos Equis
Gatorade
American Express (mostly cause it's Tina Fey, alright more than mostly)
Nationwide Insurance

and best of all

Dove

Glorious HD

2008-01-08T19:57:00.000-08:00

Watching Sarah watching our TV this Christmas, I'm afraid that the world's most expensive TV, may just have gone up in price. First it cost us an extraordinary amount, but at least it came with a house. Then it cost Dylan a renovation. Then came that damn HD box for us. Now, Sarah agrees it is better. And maybe their TV needs to be bigger.
Sorry Kevin. You may want to talk to Dylan. I think he's happier in the long run. But no, I don't know where it would fit.

What Me?

2008-01-08T09:03:00.001-08:00

For some reason attempts to breakdance were made on our table on New Years. I can't explain it. I have trouble explaining breakdancing at all. Yet, I recall writhing on grade school hallway floors in what was an attempt at the worm.
The funny thing is none of the people pictured below recalled themselves breakdancing, so here are some photos for those who don't recall their attempts at the New Years edition of So You Think You Can Dance:

Soynogg

2008-01-05T10:15:00.000-08:00

I have to say that Soynogg is a definite disappointment.

I'm Nuts

2008-01-04T08:09:00.000-08:00

As a kid I was told that I was allergic to walnuts. Or at least I have some vague memory of being told that. As an adult it never really mattered much to me. You see, I don't like walnuts. Actually I dislike them. Pecans too. Which, incidentally taste an awful lot like walnuts to me.
The thing I was never sure about was whether I always had disliked walnuts and had made up a story about being allergic to them or if because I was told I was allergic to them, I had begun to dislike them. Childhood memories are to say the least unreliable.
As an adult, I doubted my sanity even further. I believed that when I ate walnuts, my throat would be just a touch scratchier, drier than normal. Not being a fan of walnuts, I rarely ate them. In fact the only time I would eat a walnut was when it was hidden in something. Something like a muffin. And what I'm about to tell is something that I know is a little crazy and so knowing that casts doubt on the rest of what I had been thinking. This is it: I like all sorts of other nuts, but I hate any nut inside a cake like found - notably muffins, because it seems bakers love to put nuts into their muffins. It is a texture thing I suppose and I don't think that is too crazy. What is crazy is that I don't like brownies even if I know there are no nuts in it.
Now obviously brownies represent the double whammy - not only are they are cake like food with nuts in it, but invariably those nuts are walnuts. Disgusting really. The crazy part is that even when I am told there are no nuts in them (which essentially makes it a short little bite sized chocolate cake and I do like the sound of a short little bite sized chocolate cake), I just have to look at them and I can't help but get the taste of walnuts out of my mouth. I'm like Pavlov's dog.

Walnuts on a Plane

2008-01-04T08:07:00.000-08:00

I told you that, so I could tell you this:
I was flying back to Vancouver from Montreal with a bag of mixed nuts. I love nuts, when they aren't hiding in cakes. Nuts in ice cream by the way is perfectly acceptable. Salads. Chocolate. Just not cake. In fact I even like them on top of a muffin, which is far from hidden. So nuts in a bag - perfect. Unless of course they are walnuts. And or pecans, the walnut wannabe. But in this bag of nuts, I found no walnuts, nor any pecans. And if I had, I would have simply picked around them.
Having nearly finished the bag of nuts and wanting the last few tucked in the edges of the bottom of the bag, I chose, rather than to pick them out, to pour them out. Delicious. Having finished the bag, I put it away in the seat pocket in front of me and thought nothing more of it.
A short while later, I began rubbing my eyes. I suppose I had been doing it all along. I was tired. More to the point, I was rubbing my eyes incessantly. It was a strange sensation that seemed to be getting worse. Of course, denial was my first reaction. I'm just tired, I said. It will go away soon, I thought. And as I headed towards looking more and more insane, denial made way for concern.
Through red swollen eyes I read the back of the bag of nuts and in the list of ingredients I found walnuts. It was my best guess that in the powder at the bottom of the bag was at least a trace amount of crushed walnuts and when I poured that into my hand some of that trace stayed on my fingers.
No one wants to experience an allergic reaction. And the first time is probably the worst, because you don't have a sense of its limits. Now what you certainly don't want is to have that first allergic reaction on a five hour plane flight. In fact, on first glance, I would say it is the worst place to do so.
The cure was pretty simple and straightforward. I washed my hands and face and stopped touching my eyes. By the time we landed, I just looked tired and upset.
The lesson for me is a pretty easy one to live by: Don't rub walnuts in my eyes.

Muffin Attack

2008-01-04T08:02:00.000-08:00

I told you that story, so that I could tell you this one:
I went to the art gallery the other day and on the way I bought a muffin to share. Not a muffin I would have chosen. It was chocolate chip zucchini with walnuts on top. The nuts didn't look like walnuts through the glass case. Like icebergs, they were poking through the top and honestly I thought they were peanuts. No it was the zucchini that made me doubtful, but in that regard I was quite mistaken. It is a delicious muffin. All I needed to do was pick the walnuts off the top. Not difficult.
Actually that's not all I needed to do, but that was all I did. So on my way into the art gallery, my eyes were swollen and red and I couldn't stop rubbing them. You'd think the rule - Don't rub walnuts in my eyes - would be an easy one to learn. Me, I'm still working on it.

Velodrome

2008-01-02T21:40:00.000-08:00

I just got back from the velodrome,where I saw a series of races ranging from the clear cut - through somewhat confusing - right on to mayhem. At first we sat in the balcony, but from there we could see a small Red Truck beer garden in the middle of the oval. Getting there was a mystery at first, but soon we found a tunnel that went under the track. It was a cool event with a few nights of competition left. Although I have to admit sitting in the beer garden with our head swiveling to watch races tear around an oval was a little like NASCAR. Except of course, much quieter.

News

2008-01-02T17:35:00.000-08:00

I was just watching the Daily Show and Al Gore was the guest. It was an old episode that I hadn't seen. Gore was talking about his book The Assault on Reason. In the discussion, he and John Stewart were talking about the blurring of entertainment and news. For example, the degree to which the news media cover the lives of people like Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. And lack of coverage around politics beyond White House press releases. The result is a congress that is more concerned with raising money for 30 second sound bites than it is with debate on its own floor. With this change in debate style and medium, we have lost a lot.
To be fair the irony of talking about the blurring of news and entertainment on the Daily Show was not lost on either of them.
But as I was listening, I thought how I was a good target audience for a news agency willing to explore real global issues and yet I don't watch the news. I'm an educated professional and yet I don't engage with modern news media.
I wonder about this disconnect. I wonder if it is a character flaw of mine, a lack of concern for world affairs. I don't think that I can blame the media entirely. I can't hide behind disenchantment as if it is all their fault. Further, I am certainly not alone. Few people I know are interested, genuinely interested in world affairs.
Personally, I'm not sure if people cared more or less in the past. What is true is that many of us are acutely aware of the gap between world affairs and world interest. I suspect that it has always been there, but that we are now more aware of it. I guess my question is one of causality and direction: Are we growing more or less interested? (I suspect less or static) Are we disinterested because we feel we can't change events, that we are powerless or are we disinterested because we can sense that if we took a real interest we could make a difference and frankly that would take a lot more effort?
I have long suspected that talk shows like Jerry Springer are a modern form of public flogging - a way of confirming morality for the pack. I suppose stories about Paris Hilton are similar. Certainly they take no effort.

Happy New Year

2008-01-01T19:26:00.000-08:00

I don't know if it was a sign of vanity, but I've never been fond of making resolutions. I don't deny my vanity I just don't know if that was why I never had any resolutions. It may actually be more about my aversion to saying anything untrue. Not that I am very honest or forthright. There are a lot of ways of saying truthful words and never saying anything honest. In the end, I tend to avoid any definitive statements. Notice I say tend. I think it has always been the latter rather than the former. Although a touch of vanity probably helped.
Well this year that's changed.
I resolve to make some resolutions.
That said my aversion to strong statements kicks in and I want to keep them to myself. So let me start with any easy one:
I will write here more often.

Hollywood

2007-12-29T11:42:00.000-08:00

I went to the Hollywood Theatre on Broadway, which is my favourite theatre because they show double features for one low price. I went to see Eastern Promises and the Telus movie website listed Eastern Promises first and the second film listed was Rush Hour 3. Now, I don't mean to imply that Telus was mistaken and likely had I looked at the times they were showing I would have seen that Eastern Promises was the later film. Considering the nature of the two films, it makes to show Rush Hour 3 before Eastern Promises. Well that is in the event that you are somehow committed to showing them together, which is an entirely different question.
The thing about the double bill at the Hollywood is that every once in awhile the pairings are fantastic. Even when they aren't I end up seeing films that are ok and that I wouldn't see otherwise except on late night TV when I really should be going to bed, but will stay up watching any thin excuse for television. In the end, I often feel I am paying a fair price for the 'other' film at the Hollywood, if I even stay to see it. And that is the question, I'm not sure I would have stayed for Rush Hour 3, but then I thought I would have to decide after seeing Eastern Promises.
What I can say in the end, is that Eastern Promises was well worth the wait. Excellent. Well done. Could have been longer. Rush Hour 3, well really how could they top Rush Hour 2.

Museum Art

2007-12-28T10:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I visited the Vancouver Art Gallery and that trip has left me depressed about art. The gallery is currently exhibiting two artists: Georgia O'Keefe and Roy Arden. You will likely have heard of O'Keefe, but I can't imagine that you will have heard of Arden. Although I am told:

Roy Arden has been active as an internationally exhibiting artist since the late 70’s. He has played a major part in the development of Vancouver as an internationally recognized centre for the production of contemporary photographic art. Regularly seen in significant local, national and international exhibitions, Arden's work is included in important museum collections in Canada, Europe and the U.S.A., including The Art Gallery of Ontario, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, The Museum of Modern Art, New York and the Staatsgalerie in Stuttgart.

He is a photographer and although I read the intro piece written in letraset on the wall, I just don't understand how his work can be called Allegorical Realism. Actually, I don't even know what that means. Certainly I was hoping that seeing his work would shed light on the glorious intro he was granted. After all, half the current gallery is either an exhibition of his work or an exhibition of work he likes by other artists.
In the end what I saw did not provide "a questioning of photography's 'truth value'." nor did it "present evidence of the social and economic history of Vancouver and it's environs, what he has termed ‘the landscape of the economy’". And while I think I saw "A photograph such as Landfill, Richmond B.C. (1991)", I definitely didn't see anything that could be described as "a searing image informed by a contemporary ecological consciousness", nor could I say that any photograph I "invokes the problematic history of the picturesque landscape."
Instead, I saw a collection of mundane, pedestrian photographs that I would discard had I took them. And maybe that is the point. Maybe someone thinks the selecting of these mundane pictures makes them valuable. But damn it if I didn't want my money back.
The thing is, by most standards, I'm an artsy fartsy kind of guy. I go to see galleries whenever I travel and I have fallen in love with works of art before. I have wished for the talent of Monet. I have dreamed of painting even half as well as Tom Thompson. So, I find it hard to understand how Roy Arden's work gets revered. I don't mean to pick on Roy. I think this inaccessible art is rampantly revered by galleries across North America. But I just don't get it.
I would like to say that thankfully I was there to see the Georgia O'Keefe exhibition, but it too was disappointing. A good portion of that exhibit was dedicated to photographs of O'Keefe. Fair enough. Another section was a hands on bone display encouraging you to give drawing a animal skull a crack. Fair again. Finally, a good portion of the work were styles for which she isn't famous. Fair still. In the end, there were only three pieces that you would want to make a trip out to see. Ok, but disappointing.
But then I got to thinking about the crappy little landscapes they had on the wall, which held absolutely no merit other than they were done by a famous artist. And it left me even further depressed to think that between O'Keefe and Arden occupying almost three entire floors of the Vancouver Art Gallery, there are only three pieces that are noteworthy. I mean museum quality noteworthy. That's the best we can do.
That is of course unless you like soundless video panning across a parking lot - cause there was plenty of that in the remaining portion of the museum. One of a lake. One of a stone wall with some trees behind. etc.
Maybe someone can explain to me what makes the photo at the top worthy of museum status but until then I will have to stay a little angry with our curators. Surely they can do better. Show us something that makes us feel awe. That makes us feel envy for the artists creativity and skill.
In the meantime, if you want to see some good art try the South Granville Rise.

Am I Alone?

2007-12-22T19:22:00.000-08:00

Now, lots of people have heard me rant about gender specific single occupancy public washrooms, and my annoyance with them hasn't subsided. I am still uncomfortable and awkward standing in a hallway at the back of a restaurant waiting outside the men's washroom, while the women's door is wide open almost mocking me. I still think that if we allow ourselves to divide up our world along gender lines in the back hallways of restaurants, then we can expect no less a division in critical places.
But lately, my new confusion with single occupancy washrooms only applies to the men's version. It seems there is a trend towards putting a urinal into these types of washrooms, which I think confuses most of us. Do we lock the door or don't we? If we do, we feel ridiculously prudish and if we don't we risk a much more awkward situation as someone may choose to use the toilet. Can't say that I am a fan.

Canadian Ambassador

2007-12-20T18:28:00.000-08:00

A future Canadian Ambassador was born earlier this week. If it follows that my mother turned out to be a great cook because neither of her parents could cook, then Shaen and Rou gave birth to a little boy who surely will be the most adept conflict manager this world has ever seen.
At least that's my hope little acorn. Roll as far as you can little guy.

Welcome Kaeden Greyson

2007-12-03T07:25:00.000-08:00

Just outside the delivery ward, along the corridor, is a long wooden bench. Well more of a shelf really in that it has no shape to it. Just long flat and hard. That's where families wait. Wait and speculate.
Around the corner, down the hall, and around another corner you can find another waiting area. One with chairs and even a small sofa, but at 2am it seems awfully distant. And while it is clearly a better place for waiting, it certainly isn't the best place for speculating.
Whereas while seated on the bench you are privy to a constant trickle of activity. Nurses, or could they be doctors, come and go, carrying bundles, pushing stretchers, fetching mirrors. What's in the bundle, why is someone being moved, who is the mirror for? Then a cry.
Families hover listening, friends fret wondering and finally news is carried from father to friend to grandparent to other waiting families.
Twice we heard the sound we were all waiting to hear and both times we watched as news trickled out and down to us. Twice we were the other waiting family and twice we were left to wonder.
Then, at 4:32am our wonders ceased as the real wonder arrived. Little Kaeden weighing 7 pounds 12 ounces, who wasn't so sure he wanted to come out of the womb, finally did so in a rush. If he cried, we hadn't heard it.
His father came out to give us the news and like paparazzi we poured into the room cameras flashing and video rolling. And, to be honest, quiet little Kaeden didn't seem to mind.

You're Late, We're Waiting

2007-11-30T16:54:00.000-08:00

I am a patient man. Sometimes too patient. Sometimes I wait patiently when I should be approaching the counter and confirming that my name is actually on the list instead of assuring Donna that we just need to be patient. Few things cause what impatience I have to stir. Most notably Claudio Lopez. It is as if he has a gift.
But lately, it is my sister-in-law. I have been patiently waiting for my new nephew. But it is getting a little ridiculous. She was due days ago. Days!
I don't know if she isn't concentrating, if she is not focused, or maybe she is just not trying. And well, apparently the whole medical community is on my side. Word is, Sarah, if you don't get the job going they are going to get it going for you. You have till tomorrow to do it yourself. Your hear!

P.S. Woke up to snow this morning. Great day for a birthday. Very memorable. You know Dec 1st and snow in Vancouver - good stuff. Now let's get this going.

Safety First

2007-11-24T11:40:00.001-08:00

I have been traveling a lot lately. Too much, to be sure. Enough to have missed a connection in Chicago and thereby lose my luggage. Which, I understand is not extraordinary. Losing your luggage between Austin and Toronto, then not staying put long enough for it to catch up to you until you reach Montreal is less ordinary. Even more so, if in that time you'd been to Vancouver and Boston as well.
Leaving Boston, heading towards my luggage, working with a tight rotation of clothes and toiletry travel bag given to me by a courteous United Airlines representative, I was reluctant to check my luggage. I opted instead for carry on, which for me is unusual. In my carry on was a small tube of toothpaste. Granted, not as small as the one I first found in my complimentary toiletry bag. That was ridiculous. Nonetheless, I had forgotten about the tube of toothpaste and as it passed through the x-ray machine I am sure it looked ominous. Ominous enough to search my bag.
Now, being a passenger I am all in favour of safety. I don't want people boarding my flight with tubes of toothpaste packed with high explosives. So had that meant that I had to surrender my potentially lethal Colgate, then so be it. I can understand that level of paranoia.
What I don't understand is how this lethal weapon of mass destruction was a danger to our safety inside a zippered nylon bag buried in amongst clothes inside a zippered duffel bag, but that if that same weapon of mass destruction was inside a plastic ziploc bag, well then we would be safe. Safe as houses. It is as if John Cleese is the director of security.
"What's this? Is this C-4, a highly explosive device?"
"Why yes, yes it is."
"Do you have a Ziploc bag?"
"No, no I don't."
"Well then I don't see how we can let you on the plane with it, can we?"
Are there Lobbyist of the year awards? If so, someone from Ziploc has got to be a shoe in.

Trick or Treat

2007-11-03T08:22:00.000-07:00

Halloween was great this year. I had lost hope after previous years of living in different places around Vancouver. Year after year in Kits we put out Pumpkins and bought candy, ready to great a wave of trick or treaters. Looking forward to seeing al those little faces struggling to be polite as you drop candy into their bags and yet the whole time dying to see what they got. Most years we just ended up with a big bowl of candy, which isn't such a bad thing, but no waves of costumed kids.
This year, in our new place we got somewhere arround a hundred and fifty kids. What a blast. Among my favourites, we had a little tiger, and princess, and a Thomas the Tank engine.

Betty Jull, Oct 24 RIP

2007-10-31T16:32:00.000-07:00

I used to send her cards. Not addressed to Betty Jull, but simply addressed to Grandma. She would tease me saying that she didn't know how they ever got to her without her name on it. It was Betty Jull who taught me the importance of names.
Looking back, I can see that everything I ever needed to know about what it means to be family, I learned from Julls. From Barb and Gary and Frank, and especially my Grandma Jull, Betty.
Technically speaking, I wasn't her grandson. We weren't blood related at all. We weren't even legally related. But I never doubted, not for a single moment of my life, that she was my grandmother and I was her grandson. She had a gift for making you feel loved.
My favourite childhood memories revolve around holidays when our house would be bursting with grandparents. Great times full of great stories of forgotten stuffings and misplaced teeth, of phonograph records and kitchen tables cleared for card games.
It was through cards that Betty taught me it's OK to curse at loved ones. If they steal your trick you can call them all sorts of names and trust me, my Grandma Jull called me all sorts of names.
But what she really taught me is that making someone feel special is in the details. It is often the smallest thing that means the most. Like how she never forgot to bake my favourite cookies at Christmas, just because I liked them. Or how she kept toys for me in a special hidden room in the basement. Or how she saved Oor Willie comics, because she thought that I might like them. No matter what, she took the time to make me feel special.
I live on the other side of the country now and on my first road trip out here a friend and I had an old Datsun that we painted to look like a race car: complete with racing stripes, numbers, and sponsors logos. We needed a name for the car and nothing captured her spirit quite like Betty. So in yellow and orange fluorescent on the rear quarter panel, we wrote her name: Betty.
I wanted to call her Betty because it made me feel connected to a her. Sometimes I would be asked if Betty was an old girlfriend and it was then that I felt connected to her youth and a place long since lost that was full of dancing and singing at the Palais.
But mostly, I wanted to call her Betty because my grandma taught me about the little things that count the most. And the littlest thing that counted the very most with me was every Easter my grandma brought me a chocolate egg with my name written on it in white icing and nothing ever made me feel quite so special as that.

Halloween

2007-10-23T06:22:00.000-07:00

Here's my pumpkin.

(Stole the basic idea off the web. Thank you anonymous internet poster.)

Singing in Public

2007-10-19T18:55:00.000-07:00

On my way home from running circles around our local duck pond, I was not thinking about how absurd and gerbil like it is to run in circles around our local duck pond even if you put in variations in some futile attempt to fooling yourself into thinking that you are not running circles around our local duck pond, but rather I was thinking of little more than how much I would rather be at home, inside, out of the rain. That is to say that I was less distracted than normal and even somewhat alert. Just after I crossed the first of the two somewhat busy streets that lay between my house and the duck pond, I heard the sound of a voice.
I looked up to see a guy in a grey hoodie coming towards me, bouncing slightly as the walked, and all the while ranting. My first thought was that he was likely nutters. He was short on meds and now he was talking angrily to himself, likely of himself, and likely in third person.
As he neared, I could see that under his hoodie he was wearing what on first blush I charming wanted to call a Walkman, but really I all could see were earphones. They were large earphones and not the typical white earbuds that are ubiquitous these days and I suppose that is what made me think that he had a Sony product on the other end that would be older than him.
Actually he was young enough to wear his jeans half off his hip and crumpling around his ankles as if he had left the house that morning several pounds heavier. And as he approached, the ranting melted into a rhythm and that rhythm became rap. None of which is particularly unusual or unique.
What caught me was that at a certain distance, and I can't tell you now if it was five, ten, or twenty feet, but at a certain distance he stopped. He stopped echoing the angry words in his head. He passed me without a break in his stride and then at another, closer distance began again.
I was caught by how similar we were despite outward appearances. Despite me running by him in close fitting run clothes with shorts that are riding up as I run, as if I had the house a little thinner. Despite my being roughly double his age. If I had been the one with headphones on, I'd have done the same thing.

The Belt

2007-08-10T09:36:00.000-07:00

I've held the unified belt for several days straight now, but I fear it looks a little sunny out and we are about to try a little Sudoku challenge.

Take That Mother Nature - I'm the Household Grand Champion

2007-08-07T20:04:00.000-07:00

It seems obvious now, Mother Nature is rooting against me. Ha, I say, ha.
You see, it's not so much that she is conspiring against me, and let's face it, there is little she can do to me to hold me back. Well at least, there is little she can do to me that won't also affect Donna. She can get overcast and gloomy, she can rain and bluster, but short of a lightning strike, she's getting us both. And really now, don't you think that a lightning strike would be a tad too obvious.
No, I don't mean to imply that she is cheating, that she is providing any extraordinary assistance like a wind at someone's back say. It is more that she wants Donna to win. I mean, let's face it she probably has an in with fate. They probably went to the same school or they met at a party and now she knows ahead of time whether ... well I suppose, she knows a lot of things. Not the least of which is who will be our household grand champion. And it would seem she has taken an interest in the outcome.
Only a few days ago, she was in a grand mood. Couldn't wait for us to get up and get going on our morning Sudoku. Couldn't wait for me to lose.
And how about today? She has been miserable all day. Dark and brooding. Spitting all day. I suspect it's 'cause she knew. She knew I'd win at Sudoku and she knew I would win on the grind. She knew I would regain my rightful title as Household Grand Champion.
Well, at least for today.

Donna's Still Champ

2007-08-04T10:32:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday morning and for the first time in what has seemed to be a very long time the sun was up and out eagerly waiting for us to rise. Prying at the bedroom blinds. Peeking in the kitchen window, as if straining to see whether the kettle was on the stove yet.
So you'll forgive me if I felt optimistic returning up the stairs. It's become a part of our morning ritual that as she finishes her second bowl of cereal, I head downstairs to print of a few Sudokus. Two sheets, each with an easy and a medium level puzzle. She uses pen and I a mechanical pencil. Which speaks volumes in itself.
I sunk into the big chair that sits in front of the large north facing window wearing my glasses. "Oh, your serious," she said. I don't often wear my glasses. Not out of some sense of vanity, as I don't think they look badly on. Rather, more out a sense of bother. I never really seem to have them at hand and not needing them to function, I rarely feel impelled to search for them. But this morning I had noticed them on my desk and without thinking had put them on. Not really a wise strategy I'll admit.
Sure they are helpful and I may even complete the puzzles in question a tad faster, but just by wearing them I have thrown down the gauntlet. I have spurred on my opponent.
"Are you ready," she asked? It wasn't so much a question as a prod.
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"No."
Not surprisingly, I failed to supplant our household champion once again. Which, in case your counting, I'm told makes six losses in a row. But, I thought, while listening to the Vinyl Cafe and the wonderful voice of Stewart McLean, at least it's sunny and we've no plans to climb the grind today.

The Fall

2007-07-31T18:10:00.000-07:00

It would seem that I have lost the title of Household Champion and let's face it my chance at regaining the unified belt is slim. It isn't the Grind, it is the Sudoku. Sure the Grind favours Donna. She isn't dragging up the same massive carcass that is glued to my bones. While I'm not quite double her weight, I'm closer to double than I am to her actual weight. Disconcerting, isn't it? And of course, being an Ironman finisher, she certainly has a better endurance background than I do. Except of course when it comes to movie marathons, which let's not kid ourselves presents a certain physical challenge. So, although the scale, if you will, is certainly tipped in her favour, I do have one card to play: I am more willing to hurt myself in order to win. So the Grind will be mine again.
Sudoku on the other hand, well, no degree of effort will change the outcome. I'm averaging roughly a victory roughly 1 in 8 times. So, combining the two, ain't looking so hot.
Oh well, it was good while it lasted. At least Donna is gracious in victory. Like, this morning when she offered me more coffee, "Would you like a top up, Loser?"

Bill Walsh R.I.P.

2007-07-31T18:06:00.000-07:00

Few, if any, have left as clear and as indelible a mark on the NFL.

I Am The Champion, My Friends

2007-07-14T23:57:00.000-07:00

That's right, I am the household Sudoku champion and the household Grouse Grind. Well at least for now. And since I'm about to go travelling for a couple of weeks, I can think of no better time to announce any such title, fleeting or otherwise. Although I must say, I've been the household Grind champion for quite some time already. Go Me.

UFC Upset

2007-05-27T11:05:00.001-07:00

Another upset. The last three UFC main events have been upsets and while I didn't like seeing GSP, the good Canadian kid that he is, go down to the little terror, I must admit this was a great upset to see. Sometimes the world of sports isn't a ladder. Sometimes times it is a little more like Rock Paper Siscors. I'm curious to see if Rampage can hold his own against other contenders or if he just has Chucks number.

Me and Barry

2007-05-25T15:27:00.000-07:00

Just me, hanging out with Barry Bonds. Kinda hoping he'd hit one out of the park for the historic I was there thing and yet still hoping he never hits one out of the park again, for the historic Hank thing.

Pussy Cat Dolls Upset

2007-04-26T08:50:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I care in the slightest. I can't tell you anything about the Pussy Cat Dolls, but I can tell you how I feel about their latest choice. How did this happen? How did the Search for the Next Pussy Cat Doll suck me in?
The strangest thing to me is that I'm disappointed in the outcome. I think they made the wrong choice. It is strange to me because I've never considered buying their CD in the past, I wouldn't buy their CD now and I wouldn't have bought their CD if they had a different new face in the band. They just don't interest me in the slightest. And yet, I'm disappointed.
For those who don't know, it came down to three: Melissa R, Chelsea, and Asia. For the record, I would have chosen Melissa R. because she was all round the 'hottest'. In second place, for me, was Chelsea. She was clearly the most talented.
Wow, I meant that. Weird.
Anyways, the finale was far more interesting than the drumming the Canucks took in the opening game of round 2.

Air Travel

2007-04-11T19:11:00.000-07:00

I'll readily admit that I like the current state of airline meals, or
rather the lack thereof. I can't recall any great meals on a plane and were
they offering two prices (with and without meals), I would opt for the
lower fare every time.
What isn't working for me is the headset deal. I have a collection of
headsets from various airlines. Each has been kept with the intention of
reusing them. Each with more and less success.
I appreciate that asking us to bring our own saves both cost and cuts down
on our already massive environmental footprint. But why can't they just
reuse them. I don't need a new set. Is it a paranoid hygiene issue? I say
let anyone who has a big issue with the used headset buy a new one or
bring their own.

GSP Goes Down

2007-04-09T22:48:00.000-07:00

I still can't believe that George St Pierre, sometimes known simply as GSP, lost to Matt Serra. Now, I'm not saying, not even for a moment, that I would even remotely consider the notion of getting into the octagon with Matt the Terra Serra. I don't care how much reach advantage or weight advantage I may have. And if I say he just isn't in the same class as GSP, I still recognize that he is a world class fighter. On the other hand, I am a pussy. So, please understand that I have a great deal of respect and admiration for the fighting skills of Matt Serra.
But how could that little washed up, second tier shrimp do it?
Kudos to you Matt Serra. You just made the UFC that much more interesting. And it was already interesting.
I was down at the local pub with a few friends to watch the match and before the undercard began the place was full. Not since Tyson, has boxing seen that kind of interest.

Signs

2007-04-06T12:15:00.000-07:00

Warning: Jane and Lucy please note that despite the following entry's positive view on children, I am well aware of the joy of temporary visits. We (despite Donna's apparent weakness for 9 year old girls) aren't softening. There are no kids in our future. Well at least not ours anyway. In fact it looks like there will be a lot of kids in our future. Enough I'm sure.
You see lately, it seems that every couple around us is pregnant or trying to get pregnant. All except one, but I'll come to that.
Thankfully, this recent pregnancy affliction doesn't seem to be contagious. It's kind of exciting though. We had friends over recently with their newly adopted little one and he was adorable. He cried only once and we were given ample warning from his mother. "As soon as this bottle is done, he'll start crying."
I wanted to comfort him - to let him know that feeling never goes away. That to this day I need to suppress that same urge when, say, the ice cream carton, or the Pringle tube, or the lasagna tray have nothing left to give. I suppose that wouldn't be much comfort though. Especially at his age.
Well anyway, before I knew it he was distracted and forgotten that the bottle was empty. He returned to the smiley face drunken midget he had been a few minutes earlier. All was well again and soon he was put to bed.
Now truth be told, it would seem that not every mother in our life would see us a good parents. As I alluded to earlier, we have a friend who has stopped trying. Is on a trying hiatus so to speak. You see, for reasons of her own, she doesn't want either a Scorpio child nor a Capricorn child. Too many other birthdays, she said. Too many other festivities, she said. Nothing whatsoever to do with Donna and I being both a Scorpio and a Capricorn.
So a word of warning to those other women. You are playing with fire. You've been trying right through the Scorpio - Capricorn window. You could end up with a kid like Donna or me. Or even Claudio Lopez.

Me? Golfing?

2007-04-04T20:28:00.000-07:00

I went golfing and I have to say I kind of liked it. I went with a friend who is a pretty good golfer and a funny guy. Without his advice it would have been a lot longer round than it was and without his humour it would have seemed a lot longer than it was. In the end, it turned out to be a nice walk with an interesting distraction along the way.
What I didn't realize going into the endeavour - we wouldn't be golfing alone. I mean it is one thing to be an idiot firing balls off into the woods in front of a buddy. It is another thing to invite strangers to witness.
Actually, truth be told, I couldn't care if people thought I sucked. You see, I do suck, so they shouldn't be misled. No, I was actually worried that my shortcomings would slow the group down too much and they would get pissed off. Turns out 2 hours and 30 minutes is not the average marathon time any more than par applies to middle age men showing up to 9 hole courses as singles. I could have been a whole lot worse and still not dragged them down too badly.

Settled In

2007-04-03T18:42:00.000-07:00

It's been nearly two months now and we've completely settled in. We are a few pictures shy of completion. Well ... besides the garage. It's kind of funny how close the word garage is to garbage. And it certainly is a dumping ground for us.

Hair Cut

2007-02-09T17:46:00.000-08:00

As we approach our moving date, I've recently begun playimg the silly little game of no more this and only three more times of that. My latest injection of sentimentality into the most unsentimental of acts, comes on the heels of having my last haircut in Kits.
Now I've not lost my mind so far that I'm getting misty eyed on fourth ave thinking about it. But I did think that thought. I've also started thinking about how many more times I'll park in our driveway and climb our stairs, etc. Truth be told, I've never liked our stairs and I've never liked getting my haircut in Kits. In fact, I don't think I've started counting the things I like nearly as much as the ones I don't.
So get ready, Jackson, of Blue Bird Beauty salon, I'll be ready for a new do in roughly six weeks time.

Ha Noi Traffic

2007-01-31T21:53:00.000-08:00

Imagine crossing roads like these.

Extreme Ironing

2007-01-23T18:39:00.000-08:00

I love a private joke taken past too far and down the road to full out nutters. On that note, I welcome you to the world of Extreme Ironing. Enjoy.

Rocky Mountain Flatbread Company

2007-01-19T17:25:00.001-08:00

Our new favourite restaurant - the Rocky Mountain Flatbread Company has amazing food and a great eco friendly attitude. But let's be real, it's the food that counts and it was fantastic.
Very reasonable prices - on First just west of Burrard.

A Question of Judgement

2007-01-19T17:23:00.001-08:00

My grandfather described it as "homogenized weasel piss" and perhaps that's a tad harsh. I would, in an effort to be as fair as possible, say that it is the Baby Duck of beer, that it is a pre-made Shandy, that it is the worst beer with the best marketing. So when friends bring over a six pack of the silver bullet, I try to look the other way. I try to look past it, if you will, and see more as a friend than as a drinker of homogenized weasel piss.
The more "chick", the more glam and fabulous that friend is, the more apt I am to see past it. When Mich'Elvis' leaves her left over Coors Light in the fridge, it kind of makes sense. She probably didn't want a beer to begin with. She was probably looking for something a little more fabulous, a little more chic than beer and had simply left it too late. After all, there is very little that's chic about a Cold Beer and Wine off sales store in the back of a hotel, but sometimes that's all you got.
All of which does very little to explain away the behaviour of Dylan. He not only drinks Coors Light quite willingly (passing up on quality brews, I have seen him reach into a cooler full of tasty suds and come up with a smile and a silver bullet), but recently I think he has taken things a little too far.
Left over from watching Playoff Football (no less), sitting in the bottom of my fridge are two "near beers". What has the world come to? Will someone talk sense to this man?

More Photos

2007-01-09T13:53:00.000-08:00

Second half of photos

First Batch of Photos from Vietnam

2007-01-08T21:36:00.000-08:00

Saigon to Hoi An

Seperate Ways

2007-01-01T22:41:00.000-08:00

Back in Hanoi, our band of six went in three seperate ways. Claudio Lopez and Samantha went south in search of sun and sand. Rob, unwilling to risk the smell of more train travel, held down the fort in Hanoi with Harumi, who's flight was soon to go anywhere else. And Donna and I went north into the hills of Vietnam.
We took an overnight train north northwest to the Chinese border of Lai Cau. From there we took a minibus south southwest into the mountains to the very small town of Sapa.
The French, reminded of the Alps, established this small town high on a slope overlooking a winding valley. When the clouds lift (which isn't often), the views are wonderful. While our hotel was higher than most, it didn't offer a great view. It was, however, wonderful.
We stayed at the Baguette & Chocolat. An old French building that has been converted into a bakery / restaurant / mini-hotel. They only have four rooms and each is giving a pastry name in lieu of a number. We stayed in the croissant room.
It was very cold in Sapa and our hotel offered no central heating. With big french doors opening on to a small balcony and large windows and high ceilings, our room was cold. In the corner they had a small electric heater which was better at lighting the room than heating it. Knowing that, the hotel drowned our bed in with two enourmous duvets - making it the coziest room we had in Vietnam.
In the morning, the smell of croissant and pain au chocolat would waft up the stairs and as we made our way downstairs for a continental breakfast by the fireplace the smell would overwhelm us.
What makes the hotel special is its purpose. It is a training facility for disadvantaged youth. They take in orphans and street kids and give them an education and teach them a skill.
Sapa itself doesn't offer much, but the trek's through the valley are interesting. The surrounding area isn't populated by Vietnamese, but rather by hill tribes of ethnic minorities. We hired a private guide for a day to show us a few villages. She was a local and had a very interesting perspective on the politics of her world. She was bright and clever and spoke English very well - which is amazing as she has only learned it from speaking to tourists.

Comical Hats

2007-01-01T22:33:00.000-08:00

Not surprisingly, Donna and I couldn't find any Happy Birthday stuff in Hanoi before heading out to Ha Long Bay. We had meant to buy some before we left, but, well, things happen. And so we found ourselves searching for something festive that didn't say Happy New Year on it. We failed. The best we could do was steal some ribbon off of a Christmas display and loosely attach it to a conical hat. Sure it's a little plain looking, but they are everywhere (only the baseball style hat is more common in Vietnam) and they do kind of look like party hats - just a little oversized.
Besides we did look comical.

Internet Disruption

2006-12-31T19:14:00.000-08:00

Apparently, the earthquake in the Pacific has severed our internet connection to the outside world. Google is quickly adding itself to the list of survivors in the event of a holocaust as they were back on line first. Hotmail took longer and Blogger is now back up and running just in time for me to leave Vietnam.

Warning At Sea

2006-12-31T18:58:00.000-08:00

From Hanoi, we took a tour to Ha Long Bay. The ancients described this dappling of limestone islands as the Descending Dragon. The story has it that Hanoi was chosen as a new capital based on a dream of a dragon flying towards it and it was called Ascending Dragon and Ha Long Bay was formed by a dragon crashing into the shoreline of the sea.
We took to the seas in a modernized version of a Junk. We had sails, but we also had a motor and airconditioning if needed. Along with our party of six, our junk carried eight other tourists - two more Canucks, two Thai, two Koreans, and two Russians.
We ate and drank and sailed around little islands stopping at a few sights. The islands are riddled with caves and we had the chance to go inside one of them, but it wasn't that interesting and our guides childish riddles made it a little painful at times.
Our junk carried several small open style Kayaks. (The kind that you can't sink even if you try.) And the highlight, for me, was taking them out on short little trips. We explored the edges of several islands and even had the chance to paddle through a tunnel into a bay that would otherwise be hidden.
Claudio Lopez turned a year older on the trip. It was a beautiful place to celebrate a birthday.
That night, while most played charades and I strummed the old guitar I found on board, the staff watched TV. So it was that we were at sea in a little Junk, when we heard the Tsunami warning. Not where you want to be.
Still, despite a 6'3" bed squeezed into a room not much larger and the possibility of the world's fastest Junk ride, I slept like a baby.

Hoi An

2006-12-24T04:35:00.000-08:00

It seems that I have greatly underestimated the appeal of having tailors make your every whim. I have out spent Donna. I'm not sure how it happened. It seems to have crept up on me one garment at a time and then in the guise of a tailor made suit (cashmere blend) it leapt upon me. It seems that we may need a suitcase to get our loot home.

Travel Alert

2006-12-24T04:28:00.000-08:00

Hanoi, VIETNAM - In conjunction with the offices of Interpol, the following travel advisory has been issued: Claudio Lopez is on the move. Once again, women of foreign nationalities with names not native to their culture are in the most danger. Last seen in Hoi An, it is believed that he was purchasing disguises a la Hugh Hefner and James Dean. It is possible that he is traveling with both a Japanese woman and a Canadian woman. Thankfully, each has a name appropriate to their culture.

Was it Something I Said?

2006-12-21T22:11:00.000-08:00

It has been quite some time since I've seen my own blog. For reasons unknown, I can post to the blog, but not see it. Although, I can generally surf the web without any problem.

Tailor Made for Tourism

2006-12-21T22:00:00.000-08:00

Hoi An is the cutest cleanest place yet in our travels. Things are generally more expansive here, but the place is worth it. After a week, I'm ready to pay for sidewalks.
While the traffic overall is quieter in this small town, the real joy lies in there being less cars and trucks here. Mopeds and scooters are easier to deal with when they don't have to deal with cars. The town is picturesque with a heavy influence of both French and Chinese in style. But it is a great town because of the shopping.
Every other shop in Hoi An is a clothing store except that they have very few items on display and in lieu of stock they simple have bolts and bolts of fabric. Everything is made to order. Everyone is a tailor. Half now, half later. Whether you want a different colour or collar, nothing is a problem. You can look through fashion magazines or pick from mannequins.
We've ordered a few things (which are almost ready) and if we like them, or packs could get a lot heavier.

Vietnam, brought to you by Heineken

2006-12-20T16:38:00.000-08:00

I forget who said, 'To be a legitimate country you have to have your own army, your own airline, and your own beer.' Vietnam has plenty of good beer and I have put in a better than good effort to sample them all. When you are paying anywhere from fifty cents to a dollar, it is hard to turn your back on the brew.
Not many foreign beers are available and even if they were, I wouldn't be interested. Heineken is doing its best to change all of that. I don't know if it is a red star/yellow star connection or if they are like this everywhere, but they are one of the biggest corporate sponsors in Vietnam. For Christmas, they seem to be putting up a giant Heineken bottle Christmas tree everywhere we go.

Hue

2006-12-20T03:59:00.000-08:00

Our train pulled into Hue early in the morning. (Deb had left us in Da Nang in search of a beach. Rob was still with Donna and I.) Trains, as you may know, don't always stop for the same amount of time. Smaller towns often get smaller stops and neither Donna nor I are strangers to the dangers of missing your stop. I have pushed a friend from a moving train and Donna, with the aide of her sister, has pushed complete strangers from a still train. So when we pulled into this small town and the conducter started yelling "Hue" over and over again at us, we jumped into action. We were off the train in a flash, pushing anyone aside who stood in our way. We got off the train with several minutes to spare. I think Rob still doubts our sanity.
Hue is much more enjoyable than Nha Trang. It is a smaller town and with it a slower pace. The tourism is also far more historical and a whole lot less "party". It is a shame that we haven't left more time for it. We've arrived today and we are leaving tomorrow. Still, it has been a great day.
It all began with finding a beautiful hotel for $20.00 (That includes free internet and breakfast.) If the building is new, and I can't say that it is, its architecture certainly was influenced by French colonialism. We are on the six floor, which is high for Hue. Our room is behind a heavy wooden door at the end of a wide hall that feels extraordinarily big due to its high ceilings. We have large windows, heavy wooden furniture, and a small balcony overlooking the Perfume River.
Having secured a room very early in the morning,

Hard Sleeper

2006-12-19T20:23:00.000-08:00

Last night, we left the hustle and bustle of Nha Trang behind. Left behind too was the luxury of the Asia Paradise Hotel. Instead we took the overnight train to Hue. In booking the train, we were mislead a few times - not deliberately I think, just more of a language barrier. There was a great deal of confusion as to when the tour agency closed and opened and how that coincided with train office. In the end, it was our third visit in twelve hours and our agent had the train office on the phone and he confirmed that there was space in first class, but felt the need to reconfirm the price which we had known for quite some time and was not an issue. Having hung up to check with us again on the price, he needed to call back again to book and by that time the space was gone. So second class it was.
The difference between first and second class lay in two features. The first being 4 vs. 6 per room. We being a band of 4 definitely wanted 4 per room. The second being "Soft Sleeper" vs. "Hard Sleeper".
Now, being in marketing, I can see right off that the name of Hard Sleeper is not a good selling point. But what I can say is that it is an accurate description of the bunk they provide. The soft sleeper comes with a 3 inch mattress on top of a rock hard board. The hard sleeper, we were told, just has a thinner mattress. Truth be told, I've had many blankets that were thicker than what served as a mattress.
Not surprisingly, I slept like a baby. The rocking motion of the train put me to sleep as soon as the lights went out.
Donna and company had a rougher time of it. She also has a more sensitive nose than I do and even I noticed the smell was a little more than ripe. In fact, it was really gross whenever the train stopped for a while. As soon as we got moving again, it always smelled a little better.
While it didn't smell any better in first class, and I can always sleep - even on a board, I still want to make the following NOTE TO SELF: Book ahead.

A Day Lost at Sea

2006-12-18T21:50:00.000-08:00

We took a tour on a boat. We read snorkeling and Aquarium and water sports. What they should have said is a strange attempt to mimic Mexican party boats aimed at 20 year olds looking to get drunk enough to think Brother John sounds good in Vietnamese.
We promise to ask more questions.

Let the Chips Fall

2006-12-18T21:33:00.000-08:00

The Nha Trang Beach Hotel is, by local standards, a nice hotel. So when I say that it only cost $12.00, you must understand that many backpackers are staying in decent places for the standard rate of $6.00 We are far from slumming it. In fact, at $12.00, we're a little upscale.
Now it looks as if the hotel was built in two phases and those phases don't quite line up in height. So from one building to the next is a half flight of stairs.
Our friends have a $16.00 room in the front half and we have our less expensive room in the back half. The key difference in the two rooms is that their window faces the street and our window faces the hallway. We have air conditioning and the window locks and so it doesn't seem to be a big deal when we book in, but in the night the wind picks up and the window begins to rattle.
I am awakened not by the window, but rather by Donna wanting me to resolve this rattle problem. Which I do - by opening the window.
I am awakened again, this time to discover that Donna can't sleep. She is afraid that someone is going to get into the room while we sleep. I try to convince her that it is far more likely that they would break in while we are away, but this is doing no good in a dark hotel room in a foreign country with the Loop-O-Matic in full effect.
Why do I say that she is the Loop-O-Matic 3000? Not because she is afraid, however unlikely, that someone is going to reach through the window and open the door. Not because I discovered in the dark that she had lodged a chair under the door knob - a locking mechanism that is far superior to the hotel locks and should someone be able to reach through the window and unlock the door would then foil them somehow. No, it is because I was able to get her to sleep by placing a bag of chips on the edge of the curtain. Yes it was the additional security provided by the ancient Chip Trap that let her get to sleep.
Of course, we found a new hotel the next night that met her security standards for the low low price of $50.00

Teretz

2006-12-18T21:06:00.000-08:00

The road from Mui Ne to Nha Trang begins with a brand new stretch of road. It winds its way along the windswept coast. The road climbs over the foothills of mountains as they tumble to the sea. A new road, it is open and uninhabited and really quite beautiful.
The Vietnamese have a very different sense of driving and in particular driving safety is certainly not foremost in their minds. Not only do they see lanes and stop lights as 'suggestions', they don't really adhere to which side of the road is appropriate for driving in any given direction. All of which works to some degree. Now safety, in say the form of helmets, is sorely lacking. Still, it seems that they can get away with driving 8 motorcycles to a lane with up to 5 people on a bike including a 4 year old standing on the crossbar - all without helmets. They get away with it, because they just aren't going that fast. They cut each other off at low speeds and no one gets angry. No one gestures or yells. They just slow down or stop. Likewise when the pass on the highway, they don't wait for a clear view. They pass on corners and hills, knowing that should an oncoming bus appear, the driver won't be angry he'll just swerve. All of this in my view depends on speed.
Having said that, I have yet to see a speed sign. It is likely that I've just overlooked the obvious, but I just haven't seen one. I think they go slow because the roads are always clogged. Well except on that stretch of new highway heading north out of Mui Ne. Where our driver seemed determined to test the gripping power of the bus as her sped through corners.
The sound of the luggage sliding back and forth underneath of us was making me very uncomfortable, so you may not find it hard to imagine Donna, looking frazzled, suddenly raising out of her chair and yelling, with an angry tone that didn't match the politeness of her words (a politeness I'm sure was lost on her audience), "Would you please slow down!"
When our team, and there was a team, of drivers turned to look - partly trying to see who the mad woman in the back was and partly trying to understand what she was shouting about - Donna ducked back into her seat as if it hadn't been her.
Perhaps she made the difference, perhaps we just joined back to the old clogged highway, either way we took everything a little slower after her outburst.

On the Move

2006-12-15T22:24:00.000-08:00

We're leaving the luxury of the Sailing Club behind. And it has been luxurious. We've been waited on hand and foot, eaten royally, played billiards, soaked in the pool, swam in the warm surf of the South China Sea, and been massaged in a private hut with white flowing curtains blown by the sea breeze.
We're off to Nha Trang by bus. A five hour ride virtually devoid of luxury as we've come to expect it.

Pho Ga

2006-12-15T22:21:00.000-08:00

For lunch today, I had Pho Ga, which is a very common lunch offering. Of course that sounds distinctly Vietnamese and perhaps even an adventurous exotic choice. Well, unless you order by the English translation of Chicken Noodle Soup.

Donna's a Softy

2006-12-15T19:27:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, we hired a driver to take us around the local area. He didn't speak any English, but to be honest it wasn't at all neccessary. At the tour office, they spoke English and so we knew where he was taking us already.
He drove an army style jeep that, other than a brand new steering wheel, looked circa 71. (The new steering wheel did look odd up against the matte army green.) Rob jokingly offered to drive when our driver picked us up and just outside of town - perhaps away from watchful eyes or clear of conjestion, we'll never know - our driver pulled over and let Rob take the wheel. It seemed to amuse him to recline in the back and let Rob do the work. Once we got to the off road section of our trip, he took over once again. To be honest, I was glad to have him dodging both potholes and scooters.
Around Mui Ne there are a few sand dunes that appear from nowhere. Ocean on one front, a lake on the other, and forest around the rest, they seem inexplicable. Local children swarm tourists looking to sell packs of postcards and to rent what looks like crazy carpets. A pale comparision to snow, crazy carpeting down the sand dunes is a little slow. And while you aren't cold, you do have sand everywhere.
The area is also rich in clay and which has eroded to form mini canyons of deep red spires. At one such stop, a pair of little girls were selling postcards. Donna was looking to buy some postcards anyways and so this seemed like as good a time as any. Not having the right change she ended up buying two packs from a nine year old girl named Bo.
We had read in the guide book that the children's aim is twofold. They are certainly there to sell their wares, but they are also interested in speaking English. Bo was no exception. After Donna had bought her two packs, Bo was stuck to her like glue and the two of them were talking up a storm. Bo's English may have been the best English we've heard here in Vietnam.
To say that Bo followed us up the canyon would be a lie. It is far more accurate to say that she dragged Donna up the canyon. She would scramble up steps ahead of Donna and then grab her by the hand and pull.
After seeing the canyon, we climbed into the jeep and waved goodbye.
The next stop, the yellow sand dunes, was probably 2 km away. But by the time we'd climbed out of the jeep and crossed the road, Bo was right beside Donna again. This time we were swarmed by a dozen children, each selling postcards and/or renting a crazy carpet. While the rest of us struggled through the swarm, Bo cleared a path for Donna - half explaining and half bragging that Donna had already bought not one pack from her, but two.
It's a good thing we didn't bring more luggage, or I fear we'd be coming home with a bright little girl named Bo.

Kite Surfing

2006-12-14T20:23:00.000-08:00

The wind did pick up yesterday and dozens of kite surfers took to the sea. They raced back and forth and when the more experienced riders hit waves they were shot into the air. Some could do flips, while others were lucky to land safely. It looked like with a few days of work you could be competent enough to enjoy it - somewhat like snowboarding. What was surprising was that with over 30 kites in the air, they never got tangled in each others lines.

Pets or Meat

2006-12-14T20:16:00.000-08:00

Westerners are particularly freaked out by the idea of dog meat on a menu. We haven't seen it yet and we probably won't. That's certainly not to say that it isn't just around the corner. Guide books suggest it is more common in the North.
That said, we have seen a lot of pet dogs here in Mui Ne. Last night we were at a restaurant and the family that runs it have two dogs. They are little puppies full of energy and as happy as you could hope to see. What struck us as interesting was their lack of names. They were household pets to be sure and the family would play with them and paid attention to them, but they didn't pet them or name them.
It is the lack of names for their pets which sticks out most to me and not the willingness to eat them, because if you have ever seen Roger & Me or the follow up film Pets or Meat, it is clear that we feel the same way about rabbits.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

2006-12-14T20:06:00.000-08:00

Or at least there are a few touches here and there to indicate the season is upon us even here. In fact, a number of nicer storefronts in Ho Chi Minh were decorated with snow scenes in the window. They didn't seem to be stores aimed at Westerners, but more the Ying of our Asian tattoo Yang.
In these expensive stores, (the fact that they have windows makes them expensive right off) they often had very Caucasian mannequins and fake white snow swirling in the breeze of a fan. In more typical stores, if they went for a Christmas theme it was more likely to involve a few red and green lights and a whole lot of tinsel.

The Calm Before

2006-12-13T20:55:00.001-08:00

It seems that Mui Ne is well-known for its winds, making it a bit of a Vietnamese mecca for sailing and kite surfing. Which seemed odd to me since, despite the strong wind, no one can be seen doing either. It turns out that the wind I thought was strong is considered a 'still wind' and they are simply waiting for what will surely come.
Thanks to the diligent work of a Ms. Grey, reporter for the Kitsilano Record, we can say that we aren't expecting a typhoon to make landfall anywhere near where we are. Even so, on the beach a gaggle of would be kite surfers anticipating winds to go from the current 15 knots to 30 knots by the weekend as the most recent typhoon heads west.
I, for one, would like to see that.

A Rare Sighting

2006-12-13T20:55:00.000-08:00

Rob, a childhood friend of Donna's with whom we are travelling, believes he spotted an Alaskian Cochwalloper, although he seems doubtful of their migratory pattern. I for one have little to add on the subject other than to wonder if that make him a naturalist or a naturist.

Mui Ne

2006-12-13T19:06:00.000-08:00

What a welcome respite Mui Ne is from the frantic noises of Ho Chi Minh. We've arrived in this fishing village just as it is set to explode with tourists. The resorts seem to outnumber the tourists for now, but it may just be a matter of time. We are staying at The Sailing Club, which is likely to be our most expensive stay throughout the trip. It is beautiful and the service is everpresent and yet unobtrusive. Time to be pampered.
I'm big on being pampered.
The resort is stunning. I believe it is owned by a Kiwi. Certainly it has the details that appeal to foreigners and likely don't make sense to locals. We have a semi-detached bungalow with a thatched roof and a giant mosquito net that is draped over a king sized bed. The furiture is natural local wood. Why would we want a thatched roof? Crazy rich people.
The water is extremely warm and the waves are strong. The sea here is rich with shellfish and so getting in the water means navigating a stretch of shells that swirl around your feet for the first few metres. But after that the sand is soft and slowly slopes away.
There are other tourists here, but the sea is virtually free of the typical tourist clutter. No banana boats or jet skis. It's just quietly beautiful.

Mekong Delta

2006-12-13T19:00:00.000-08:00

From Saigon, we took a bus to the northern edge of the Mekong Delta. There we were given a very touristy tour of a few islands. We were treated to local candy which was tasty and to local singing which was not. Actually, truth be told the singing was pretty painful. The instruments sound out of key as well, which kind of works with the singing since it sounds out of key as well. But they were quite proud and so we were kind with our applause and even tipped them. "Ha!", I say to the tourists who follow, for we only encouraged them.
Still, it was good to get a sense of the Mekong, however limited.

Cu Chi Tunnels

2006-12-13T03:44:00.001-08:00

Totally freaky. We took a guided tour of a preserved section of the Cu Chi Tunnels. Originally 350 km in length, we had the chance to crawl through a few hundred yards of westerner widened tunnels. I'm certainly glad they widened them or I could't have even tried. The first entrance they showed us is preserved as it was: a small rectangular block hidden in the forest floor. I tried to climb down into the hole - feet first - and at my hips I was stuck fast. I was floating in the air unable to touch bottom. Rob could climb through, but had some geniune trouble getting out and need the guides instructions. Like a puzzle, he had to take particular positions and rotations to get back through the opening.
The widened section was far from wide. Those who were brave enough or curious enough climbed down 7 or 8 feet and then started crawling down little tunnels in relative darkness punctuated by the odd red light set into the wall and the occasionaly camera flash. Donna thought the better of it. I, being bigger than the average westerner, still didn't fit very well and where others were hunched, I had to crawl.
I have a photo I took of myself in the tunnel. It was pitch black and I held out the camera infront of myself, hoping that it was aimed at me, and when the flash went off my eyes weren't prepared for that burst of light. The result is a human version of a deer on a highway.
All the while, in the distance, live ammunition is being fired by tourists - M16's and other era rifles. And you can't help but imagine what it must have been like - for both sides. How frightening for American GI's to know that the enemy could pop up behind you at any time. And how desperate you'd have to be to live in those tiny tunnels underground.

Cao Dai Temple

2006-12-13T03:37:00.000-08:00

While I often struggle to grasp the appeal of religions, the Cao Dai religion particularly seemed odd. It is, from what I've gathered, a mix of other religions. It elements from each of the competing religions in Vietnam and roles them into one brightly coloured bundle. The temple we visited is the marquee temple in Vietnam and while it was kind of cool, it was also kitchy looking and a little too Crayola for this kid.

War Remnants Museum

2006-12-10T02:55:00.000-08:00

We've learned to cross the street. It took some courage, but we wanted to see some sights and the best way is by foot. Our morning was comprised of breakfast and a stroll around the neighbourhood. Around noon two of our friends arrived. We had a couple of cold beers and feeling brave we took to the streets.
The highlight of the afternoon was War Remnants Museum. A sombre place, it took us through the Vietnam War from a very different perspective. It begins with the obvious, they don't call it the Vietnam War, but rather the American War.

Time

2006-12-09T20:48:00.000-08:00

Barb, I'm told that we are 12 hours ahead of you in Ontario and 15 hours ahead of Vancouver.

Traffic

2006-12-09T20:31:00.000-08:00

Waiting for us at the airport was a man with a sign with our name on it. Did we feel special? Wow.
He had a minivan, with airconditioning, and another two people to pick up. Once we were all assembled we took off into the flow of traffic. "Flow" is the best word to describe what amounts to traffic rules. I've seen a few big cities in a fair number of places and this is the craziest traffic I've seen. The shear number of scooters (well scooters and there various deformed cousins) is boggling. But how they flow is the amazing thing.
Think of a stadium concourse just before kick off. Big streams of people flow left and right and there is an informal sense of the right and wrong side of the concourse, but if you want to move more quickly you dodge and weave against the flow of traffic. If you get to your gate, you turn into the flow and slowly make your way over. If you waited for a break, well the game would be well on its way before you got to your seat.
Now imagine that madness on motorized vehicles. Lanes are suggestions. Turn signals are warnings. Horns are constant. Most intersections have neither stop signs nor lights.
It is absolutely amazing to me that I haven't witnessed an accident yet. Rush hour was unbelievable, but it is pretty amazing even at what passes for quiet times.
Crossing the street has become an adventure. A steady movement combined with faith is the only recipe. Without faith that they will weave around you, you would be confined to a single block. It may be that come rush hour we will catch a cab just to cross the road.

Customs

2006-12-09T06:08:00.000-08:00

On the flight to Vietnam, we sat next to a man who was born in Vietnam and moved to the US at the age of ten. He had recently returned to Vietnam to work for a foreign multi-national. A very western man with an inside scoop, he gave us a page full of what are hope are to be invaluable tips. From taxi companies to itineraries and he wrote it all down.
It's funny how some people can't resist the urge to be helpful. He was that sort of man. He wasn't satisfied with a list of tips. He encouraged us to get out ahead of the crowd and race towards customs with him as the line up was about to swell. Which we did to no avail as there was a prior flight just ahead of us.
Customs was a large room with a dozen chaotic lines. Each one growing quickly and looking daunting. Each one save for three. The three short lines all had signs that clearly ruled us out - not having a diplomatic passport or other such ID. Our new found guide told us to follow him into a short "Investors" line. He was satisfied there. He spoke to a guard and walked to the front of the line, still beckoning us to follow. He took our passports and told us he was going to tell them that we were investors.
Before we could discuss it, he was gone. Gone only three feet, but an important guard controlled three feet. Both of us were nervous. Too nervous to want to admitt we were nervous. Donna braved the words,"I'm not sure how comfortable I am with this."
But then the customs guard called us over. He asked if we were there as tourists and not wanting to lie and not wanting to go back and get in a now massive line, I quietly said, "Yes." I don't know if I thought that the quiet part would help somehow or if it was just a typical twelve year old reaction.
But that was it. Two stamps and we were through. I guess we'll just have to see about getting out.

First Stop - Hong Kong Airport

2006-12-08T20:12:00.000-08:00

Last night, no wait, maybe earlier today, oh who knows when - anyway we were to start our trip at one o'clock in the morning in Vancouver, but that didn't happen. It took a few hours longer than planned to get off the ground. First off, our plane was delayed leaving New York and we, tired and cold in an empty airport, had to wait. Then when we got on the plane they discovered an engine problem. I for one was more than willing to wait. By the time it was resolved, someone on board had a baby with a fever. Or I suppose I mean someone's baby had a fever. Of course, it would have been a much bigger deal if she had had the baby on the plane. Either way, she and the baby were suddenly not fit to travel and they had to get off - which is the quick part. The slow part is finding their luggage. Another good rule in my mind as I never want to fly with people's unaccompanied luggage. So by the time we were ready to go, Russia was closed and we were no longer allowed to cut through their yard. This meant we needed to be in the air longer, which meant we needed more fuel, which meant we had to wait.
I mention all of this not as a complaint. I was prepared for 24 hours of travel and with a planned eight hour layover in Hong Kong, it made no real difference to me. I mention it instead for those who know my wife. She can go a little squirrelly in a car ride. A three hour flight stresses her out. So, you must understand that I feared she would go mad. Anxious about the flight without its delays, she had packed sleeping pills and planned to drink them with wine if needed.
What I am happy to report is a one-hundred-percent incident free flight. No outbursts. No tirades. Instead she slept for hours unassisted by either wine or pills.
Now all we have is a short flight from Hong Kong to Saigon. Should be no problem.

Science World's Body Works

2006-12-03T08:15:00.000-08:00

Science World Body Works
I can't tell you why looking at plastic preserved actual humans was so massively more engrossing than looking at plastic models, but it was. I was fascinated. The odd part is that they don't even look real. They are saturated with plastic and exposed and there is nothing normal about that. I had to remind myself that these weren't artists' creations. These we actual people. Or at least parts of them.
The two lungs - healthy and unhealthy - side by side were startling. The cross section of an obese person was captivating. But I had imagined them or seen photos. It was the vast array of things that I had never seen before that keep running through my mind.

The replacement hip - so different than I had imagined.
The head reduced to skull and veins - the veins suspended three dimensionally, amazingly complicated and yet efficient.
The appendix - so small, so insignificant looking.
The brain and all its main nerves separated from the body - made us look like an alien invader from science fiction.

Well worth the trip.

Smoking

2006-11-22T20:18:00.000-08:00

I understand that smokers feel put out. We've pushed them out of our restaurants and bars, out of theatres and stadiums, out of offices and airplanes. (well maybe not literally out of planes, but it sounds like we could) And for the most part, as a non-smoker, it seems we've been winning.

We've managed to coral smokers. Keeping them confined to little glass boxes in airports and alleyways outside of office towers. Typically, they have been left either hotboxing themselves or shivering outdoors in forgotten, unwanted spaces.

Well except for the patio. With the summer having been drowned away by a few pineapple expresses, it isn't front of mind, but we non-smokers have been losing the war on the last remaining front: the Patio.

Sure, you might think, on a cold November day with wind and rain driving against the glass, as you sit toasty and warm in your smoke free restaurant, "Give them the Patio. Let them have it. Let them shiver and drown for their addiction." And I'd agree, except that I know summer will come again and the sun will come out and I will want to sit out there on the patio enjoying a cold beer.

Victory may be at hand. Vancouver is considering expanding its ban on smoking to include patios. I for one truly hope it succeeds. I'm just not happy winning nine months of the year.

Big Things in Small Places

2006-11-20T22:15:00.000-08:00

We are a nation strangely obsessed with giant statues. Not monuments like Mount Rushmore or the Statue of Liberty. For the serious statues, we stand aside for our American friends. No we like craziness, we like inane. I don't know the intentions of the creators of Sudbury's Big Nickel or the Wawa Goose or the giant Muskie in Kenora. Who needs a big nickel looming over their town. Or for that matter a giant fish or bird or lobster or wheel of cheese? At which planning meeting did the they pass that intention? Was it to increase tourism?
"Listen Frank, I'm sure that people would drive to Wawa to see a big goose. Where else would they go to see a big goose?"
As inane as the goose and nickel are, I have two favourites in inanity. One I've seen and one I've not.
The first I have yet to see: The Giant Pierogi. I guess my main question is simply, 'How does one recognize a Pierogi, giant or otherwise?' It really doesn't have much of a shape to it and the colour couldn't be more bland. Certainly it isn't a food that appears in a great deal of still life and so I find it remarkable that someone would make a giant version of it.
The second I saw recently: The Giant Gnome. An oxymoron of enormous proportions. A gnome is a gnome because it isn't giant.
Got to love that Canadian identity.

Remembering My Grandfather

2006-11-11T14:51:00.000-08:00

Craig's List

2006-11-06T22:35:00.000-08:00

I am suddenly a huge fan of Craig's List. Now that we've bought a place, we have furniture that will fit and some that won't. "Won't" ranges of course to include the armoire for which there is no room and the corner stand which will not do, not in the new place.
Since putting our things on Craig's List, we've sold our patio set, heat lamp, bedroom suite, wine rack/side table, two lamps, and corner stand. All of which is fueling our missing furniture fund. While I strongly suspect we won't come out ahead, we haven't lost nearly as much money as I thought we would.
I'm not surprised at the interest we had in the patio set and the bedroom suite. What amazed me was the fervor for the lamps. Who would have thought that anyone would give us money for those old Ikea lamps. Even crazier to me was the notion that someone would drive in from Richmond to buy our corner stand.
Anyway, if you know anyone that is looking for an armoire or an area rug, send 'em to Craig's List for us, would ya.

Knife Thrower

2006-11-01T21:01:00.000-08:00

I can't say that I took a lot of pictures this halloween. A little video of Claudio Lopez of course and a couple of shots with my phone at Michelle's place. Once I was in costume (a blindfolded knife thrower) it was hard to see.
I could get around, but I had thought that it would be very annoying for me to wear a blindfold all night. The truth is I loved it, if only because it made others uncomfortable, which is sort of the point on Halloween. Isn't it?

MimeTime with SB-1

2006-11-01T20:43:00.000-08:00

More Halloween Pictures

2006-11-01T20:41:00.000-08:00

Z Effects

2006-10-27T15:11:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-25T22:16:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-24T18:30:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

Louis Garneau joins the sample sale!

Wet Dog Soup

2006-10-24T04:34:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-21T11:10:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-19T21:18:00.000-07:00

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

2006-10-18T21:22:00.000-07:00

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?

2006-10-06T11:40:00.000-07:00

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?

2006-10-06T11:26:00.000-07:00

(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?

2006-10-05T13:53:00.000-07:00

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.