The Belt

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

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

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

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.

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

I Am The Champion, My Friends

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

Imagine crossing roads like these.

Extreme Ironing

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

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

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

Second half of photos