She Lost It... Literally

Oh, you should have seen it!

First, there was a sudden silence. My daughter had been watching some cartoons, having a snack, and chatting away to herself. Then... nothing. If you're a parent, you know exactly what I mean by silence. It's not like the TV quits making noise, or the hum of the refrigerator stops, but there's that eerie lack of sound from the direction of your child that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Either something bad has happened, or your little one is about to be caught doing something they shouldn't be.

In this case, it was the former.

She turned to me, hand clasped over her mouth, eyes as big as saucers, and I could tell she was terrified. She moved jerkily toward me, like some miniature cast member from Night of the Living Dead, holding her other fist out in front of her. As she slowly opened her fingers, I saw the blood. And so did she. I watched the color completely drain from her face as she began to tremble, then to do a panicky, tip-toe dance screeching, "Daaaaa-ddyyyyy!"

I looked back to her still-outstretched hand and, looking past the blood and slobber, saw what had caused this commotion.

It took a while to calm her down, to remind her she wasn't going to die, and to get her cleaned up. She was still pretty shaken by the whole event, but it was nothing a $4 visit from the Tooth Fairy couldn't fix, apparently.

The R&D Dept. Must Have Been Asleep

Chana and I both had our cellular contracts come up for renewal last month. She's with Telus and I had been with Rogers. I said "had been" because I dropped them like a hot potato as soon as I could! The service had been absolutely horrible over the last 2 years, and I was ready for a change.

Because she's so good at it, I left the negotiations of the new contracts up to Chana, knowing that she'd end up getting us the best deal possible... which she did. I now pay about half what I was paying, and I've got so many new features it's not even funny!

One of the coolest things (or geekiest, if you look at it that way) is that we were able to get matching Motorola Razr phones, mine in "Charcoal" and her's in "Metallic Pink". They are so much better than what we had been using!

Although I was excited about the new phone, I quickly became worried about its quality when I noticed I needed to charge it almost every day! And I hardly use it because I work at a desk all day where there's a perfectly good land line! I figured if the battery was that bad when the phone's brand new, what would it be like in a month? A year? How much money was I going to have to sink into this thing before I could afford to get a better unit?

Then, I noticed something... I had just taken the phone, in it's handy leather carrying case, off my belt, and I could see a glow coming from the crack where the flip folds over. The display was on and fully lit! And this despite the fact that I have the settings set to turn the backlight off after 10 seconds and the display off after 2 minutes. If I hadn't even opened the phone yet, why was it on?

It turns out that this cool little phone has an Achilles Heal in the form of an external menu button, located on the side. There's actually 3 of these little silver devils, conveniently placed right where your thumb or finger can reach when you're holding the phone, open or closed. Unfortunately, the button in question is in just the right spot to get pressed constantly by the tight interior of the above-mentioned leather carrying case! All this time I thought the battery was crap, and it was a simple little button!

So, I charged the phone up on Sunday night, carried the phone in my pocket instead of in the case, and today (Thursday) was the first day that the power indicator dropped below FULL. How sweet is that?

I'm still kind of choked because I need a way to carry the phone around, but all the cases I've seen create the same problem. I find it curious that Motorola didn't notice this and alter the design of the phone or the case to eliminate it.

Oh well, on the bright side, I suppose it's going to end up being easier and cheaper to find an alternate carrying solution than it would have been to replace the phone...

A Fellow Addict

I read this just yesterday in Anne Rice's novel "Lasher":

"Yuri loved the coffee. A pot of it. His hands would soon be trembling and he would have indigestion, but he didn't care. When you love coffee you abandon everything to that love."

I've been a fan of her writing for years, but this single paragraph has clinched it for me!

Way to go, Anne!

My Seven Favorite Songs...?

In an attempt to be something of a smart-ass by commenting on one of Quilldancer's recent blog posts (although "recent" is somewhat of a relative term for someone who posts more in a week than I do in 6 months!), I unwittingly called on the wrath of the "tag". I've now been challenged to list my 7 favorite songs of all time, including why I like them.

Let me begin by saying, I really don't go for these "tag" things anymore, but this particular one gave me a bit of an idea. Instead of doing as I've been told (which, according to my parents and so many teachers, is apparently not something I'm very good at), I'm going to change things up a bit and just leave it at that. The tag stops here.

With the broad range of music I have been exposed to in my 35 years on this planet, and the number of people who have influenced my musical tastes along the way, there's no chance that I can boil it all down to just 7 definitive tracks. However, just thinking about it caused me to stumble across something perhaps a little more interesting...

Have you ever noticed how certain songs will conjure up the same exact memory for you every time you hear it? Maybe it's a recollection of the first time you heard the song, perhaps it's the face of an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend with whom you declared the tune "Our Song", or even just the feeling of being a wallflower at a Jr. High dance. These "magical" songs don't necessarily have to be our "favorites" (in fact, sometimes we actually hate them), but they certainly carry a unique power all their own to instantly and invariably transport us backward through time, if only for a moment.

Below are a few selected songs that, whenever I hear them, make me tell Chana a story she's probably heard as many times as she's heard the song. And now you get to suffer the same fate! Aren't you lucky? I've tried to add a link to the video for the song where I could, but I've had to settle for 30-second audio clips in some cases...

Another Brick in the Wall - Pink Floyd
I can't count how many hard-earned quarters I ended up dropping into the jukebox at the little pizzeria in our neighborhood when I was 9, just so I could hear this one tune. And, considering I was addicted to video games and the arcade was right next door, you can tell how much I loved the song! The best moment, though, was when the old Italian guy who owned the place showed me how to reach behind the jukebox to turn it up!

Mr. Roboto - Styx
I think you need to be a true child of the 80's to tolerate, let alone like, this song... Hence the reason I love it to this day! It's one of the songs that I used to play when I was 13 and force my two younger brothers, J and M, into air-banding with me (just alone in the basement, not in front of actual people). I lip-synced into the power-head extension of Mom's Electrolux vacuum cleaner, J stood to the side on his trusty air-guitar, and M sat at the imaginary drum kit. M wasn't a very good drummer, though (at least, by my standards), so I'd usually end up yelling, showing him how to do it properly again, then turning the music off in frustration. Temperamental musician, eh? We didn't need Yoko to break up that band!

Axel F - Harold Faltermeyer
Cast your mind back to a time before Crazy Frog annihilated this song... When I was 14, we moved to Vancouver Island, to a little community outside Nanaimo called Cedar by the Sea. The house we lived in was absolutely awesome. It was built on a steep hill (I hesitate to say "cliff" lest it give the wrong image), had a fireplace in the main livingroom, and a huge balcony across the entire front which gave an unobstructed view of the ocean. It wasn't uncommon to see seals or dolphins out there. Once, we even saw 3 killer whales! Although it was a fair-sized home, I had to share a bedroom with my younger brother M. And, since we didn't have a lot of money, there was only one queen-sized bed for the 2 of us. Well, there was no way I, a teenager, was going to share a bed with my 8-year old brother! Instead, I set up a camping mattress on the floor and staked my claim. I would lie there at night and listen to the Top 10 at 10 on my clock radio, awash in the green glow of the LEDs, and wait to hear the synthesized sounds of Axel F, which stayed at No. 1 for a long time.

Money for Nothing - Dire Straits
While I was living on Vancouver Island, I had a best friend who lived a few miles away, in a beautiful house on a acreage by a lake. I think his Dad was an architect or an engineer or something... Anyway, he was the first person I ever knew who had satellite TV, with the gigantic dish in his yard and everything. It was on that satellite TV that I had the priviledge of watching MTV's World Premiere showing of the Money for Nothing video, an absolute technological marvel at the time. Now, I can't hear that signature Mark Knopfler guitar riff without immediately remembering all the fun we had at that house in the summer of '85.

One Night in Bangkok - Murray Head
Okay, one last one from the infamous Summer of '85... This one actually kinda creeped me out back then. You see, that best friend of mine had just started going to church and would tell me, heathen that I was, about all the evil in the world that we needed to protect ourselves from. So, after one of his baseball games in Nanaimo (in which he was the pitcher and took a ball to the face) when we heard this song and the lyric "I can feel the devil walking next to me" I practically jumped out of my skin! Okay, so I over-reacted... It wasn't until years later that I understood the song to be about the game of chess. Oddly enough, chess is something of a hobby for me now (more on that some other time).

The Way It Is - Bruce Hornsby and the Range
By the time I was in High School, I was no longer living with my parents and siblings. They had continued with the gypsy ways I had known only too well growing up, while I had opted to stay in the "big city" to finish my schooling. This meant that I saw them seldomly. But for Christmas of 1987, they came to Calgary for a visit, and took me home with them to Prince Rupert, BC for the holidays. It was a short visit (only a couple of weeks) but it was good to spend the time with my brothers again. J had received a "ghetto blaster" for Christmas and we played his "Rock '87" cassette over and over. I think this was actually the first track on the tape, or else it was the only good track... I'm not sure. It was always hit and miss with those K-Tel records... Either way, this particular piano melody always makes me think of the cold grey north Pacific skies over lush green lawns.

38 Years Old - The Tragically Hip
I riding around one evening in the car of a buddy from college (one who would eventually become a college roommate and one of my biggest musical influences) when I first heard the wavering, haunting voice of Gordon Downie, lead singer of the Hip. My friend asked if I'd ever heard of them before and, even though they are a Canadian band, I hadn't (don't all Canadians know each other?). He got me to listen to this song and I was immediately hooked. I can picture stopping at a red light near the Safeway by our college while the song played. That's the image that has stayed with me all these years. Ironically, it's a stop light I'm at frequently now as I live about 2 blocks from there!

That was the 7 I was obligated to post. Now for the bonus track:

Zoo Station - U2
As I mentioned above, the friend who introduced me to the Hip eventually became a roommate of mine. The day us guys (there were actually 4 of us) took possession of the townhouse we rented, that particular friend had to work, but he told me I could set up his stereo. Now, you have to understand just how "into" music this guys was: He owned more LPs than anyone else I have ever known, his stereo had more components than I knew what to do with, and he had even done a stint as a radio DJ at the University of PEI. I was, to say the least, nervous about setting up his gear. Of course, I was also young an stupid, so I did it anyway. Well... Once I had everything hooked up, I decided to throw in the U2 Achtung Baby CD, which had only recently been released. I knew a couple of the tracks, and U2 had always been a favorite of mine. The drawer slid shut silently, the LED read-out told me it was "loading..." and then the time flashed "0:00" and started counting up. As the music started to play, my heart jumped into my throat! Oh no! I'd hooked something up wrong and ruined his speakers! He was going to kill me! Of course, if you know the song "Zoo Station" as well as I do now, you'll know that the distortion I heard at the beginning is actually just an effect and was not my fault. I still think about how much money I would have owed him...

Photo of the Week: Light at the End

The Othello Tunnels along an old portion of the Kettle Valley Railway offer a sense of awesome majesty in a beautiful part of British Columbia.
Posted by Picasa

Boring Childhood Stories: Black Death

This one goes way back...

When I was four years old, my parents used to buy pop (soda, for you American readers) from a little place called The Pop Shoppe. The brand? Why, Pic-a-Pop, of course! It was the greatest thing ever! Practically any flavor of pop you could imagine, sold in the classic glass bottles (not that any pop actually came in plastic bottles back then), 350ml or 1 litre sizes. Heck, they even supplied these big plastic crates in case you bought that many bottles! To a kid, it was heaven.

Well, one day (maybe it was a birthday, maybe it was just a weekend) there were a bunch of people at our house, and everyone was drinking Pic-a-Pop. I had my grubby little fingers wrapped around a tall cold bottle of Black Cherry pop. I'd like to think that my parents saw me as a "big boy", able to handle a whole bottle of pop to himself, but it's probably closer to the truth to assume I had whined and begged until Mom finally gave in, just to make me shut up. But who cares? I had me some Black Cherry pop!

Now, my memory of the next few hours are pretty sketchy (we are talking over 30 years ago, you know) but suffice it to say that I eventually found myself at the hospital. I think the technical term my mother used was "non-stop puking", or something to that effect. And I'm not talking about your routine trip to the ER to wait for hours just to be told that you are sick and should be at home... No, I'm talking about checking in, undressing, and being confined to this horrible bed with huge metal railings along the side, not unlike prison bars.

I remember being told that I would be okay, that I wouldn't have to stay long, and that I'd be able to play in the playroom down the hall. Well, I had to endure a thermometer in a place I never would have dreamt of sticking one, the stay actually lasted 2 nights, and the nurses wouldn't let me go to the playroom. Instead, they brought me this lame little inch-worm riding toy that I already had at home and had already outgrown 2 years before.

For years after that experience (15 of them, to be precise) I lived under the assumption that I was deathly allergic to Black Cherry pop, and avoided it like the Plague. I wasn't actually told I was allergic to it, mind you, but it seemed entirely logical to my little four-year old mind.

Then came the year I was 17. You know the one... That time in your life when you not only know everything there is to know about everything, but are also completely indestructible. Well, while surrounded by a bunch of friends at a little get-together, I noticed someone had brought a couple litres of Black Cherry pop to the party. I stared at it for a long time. I think I even told my "non-stop puking" story to someone at one point. And then I made a decision. I decided to put the whole allergy theory to the test, once and for all.

I suppose I could have poured myself a little bit in a glass, told everyone to keep a close eye on me in case I needed help, a took a few tentative sips. But, it went more like this: Grab bottle, unscrew cap, drink entire contents of bottle, run around the room telling everyone, "I'm not puking! I'm not puking!"

I wonder why I didn't have more friends in High School?

Anyway, I guess I figured out that night that I wasn't allergic to Black Cherry pop after all. Something made me spew like the kid from the Exorcist when I was 4, but that particular demon had obviously left me. Maybe it was afraid of another visit from that thermometer...

We've All Been There

This one is sheer brilliance! Ironically, a co-worker who spends his days in a "cube" showed it to me... Enjoy!

Well! I'll Be a Monkey's Uncle!

This is the story of Marshmallow.

Marshmallow (despite the inevitable image this word conjures up) is not a sticky, sweet campfire treat. Rather, he is a cuddly, lovable, plush monkey. More importantly, he is a cuddly, lovable, plush monkey that belongs to Keka.

Or did, up until a few weeks ago. Let me explain...

Marshmallow entered little Keka's life last year, just before Christmas. As a matter of fact, it was during one of her many Christmas present shopping excursions that Chana stumbled across the adorable little monkey and the matching, twice-the-size Momma Monkey. As you may or may not already know, Chana has a bit of a soft spot for our furry primate friends, so she scooped the two of them up without a second thought. What a perfect present to share with her youngest daughter... a Momma and a Baby, just like them.

Well, even though Chana is the kind of person who will buy presents months in advance and keep them a total secret (or try to), I guess some gifts are just too good to hold on to because she "let the monkeys out of the bag" (to coin a phrase... sort of) as soon as she got back to the car! Keka fell in love instantly. She named her new best buddy "Marshmallow" and gave the Momma a name you would recognize as very appropriate if you knew Chana in person. And thus began the unbreakable friendship.

Now, let's skip ahead to the final days of this year's Summer Holidays. Chana and I, as you have probably read, took all six of our kids out to visit my Mom in Hope, BC and to Vancouver to see the ocean for the very first time in their lives. Even though it was a whirlwind tour and we could easily have stayed another 2 weeks, we had an awesome time and were able to show the kids some things they just don't have the opportunity to see back home. As silly as it may sound, one of these things was IHOP. Chana and I have always made a point of stopping at IHOP whenever we are on holidays, since there are none at all in Alberta, and decided to take the kids there for a "treat" dinner after visiting the Vancouver Aquarium all day.

I know what you're thinking... You're thinking, "What? Pancakes for supper?!?" Well, it may not be the most nutritious meal, granted, but they're only kids once, right? What's wrong with breaking the rules once in a while?

Well, about 4 hours later, in the middle of the night, we all knew what was wrong with the idea.

Apparently, when a 9-year old girl eats at IHOP for the very first time and finds it delicious ("yummy" in kid terms), said girl runs the risk of over-stuffing her little stomach ("tummy" in kid terms). Following such a stuffing, the "tummy", it seems, runs a high risk of engaging its "purge function" over the more traditional slow digestion. Should this occur while the child is in a wakened state, a simple panicked sprint to the nearest washroom can have the situation well in hand relatively quickly, with only minor discomfort, and virtually no mess.

However...

Should the child fall asleep shortly after the stuffing, as was the case with poor Keka, the "inverted digestion process" becomes much more uncomfortable, and the "collateral damage" to surrounding bedsheets, rugs, and monkeys named Marshmallow can be quite serious. While it was a simple, if unpleasant, matter of some scooping, scraping, bag-tying, scrubbing, and laundering to take care of the linen and carpets, I'm afraid the particular polystyrene inner components of Keka's plush pet prevented us from being able to adequately clean him, thus leaving him in a decidedly un-cuddly state.

I left the poor, soiled creature on the deck for a day, hoping to dry him out enough that we'd be able to rid him of most of his new, unpleasant coating, but it was to no avail. By the time we returned home to Calgary, Marshmallow was no more.

Keka was devastated. She came to accept the fact that Marshmallow was forever ruined and that she'd never again fall asleep with her little cheek pressed up against his, but she wanted to say one last goodbye. Chana tried to tell her that it was too "yucky", but Keka insisted. And that's when things went from bad to worse...

Although nobody recalls throwing the little guy out, neither he nor the tightly tied bag he was in were anywhere to be found. Keka fell asleep crying that night.

Fear not, for this story has a happy ending. You just have to be patient.

Last Friday after work, Chana and I took Keka and my daughter to the store where Marshmallow had originally been purchased because she had been promised we would at least try to find another one. Now, you have to understand something... This wasn't one of your more common stuffed animal that you're going to find dozens of on a shelf at Toys R Us. It was one of those cute, I've-never-seen-this-before-and-probably-never-will-again types. You know what I mean. So, even though we were going back to the same store, we had already warned Keka not to get her hopes up and to be prepared to possibly find a new best friend.

As we guessed, there was no Marshmallow. And, as we should have guessed, there was nothing there that could catch Keka's eye with the memory of Marshmallow still so fresh in her mind. Disappointed, we left and headed back home. On the way, though, I decided to stop at Toys R Us, just in case. Sadly, although there were a ton of cute and cuddly little furry friends to choose from, none of them were Marshmallow. There was only one more place to check before giving up... Zellers, at the other end of the mall.

Now, Zellers isn't exactly the greatest department store. They are what I'd call "almost-adequate". So, we told Keka in no uncertain terms that there would be no Marshmallow here, but possibly a different animal that she could learn to love. She may only be 9, but she understood and let us take her to the toy department.

On the way, the girls got a little side-tracked by the display of Halloween costumes, trying on mad-hatter hats and trying to scare each other with rubber masks. This meant that I arrived at the aisle with the plush toys before the rest of them did. I have to tell you, I'm not sure if I've ever seen a more pathetic collection of stuffed animals. There were very few to choose from, and what was there was not of the highest quality. It was sort of like the crappy prizes they give away at carnivals after you've spent $50 trying to get a stupid plastic ring to land just right on a soda pop bottle. Poor Keka.

And then I saw Marshmallow. I couldn't believe my eyes! There, right on top, was Marshmallow! Not ruined and smelly like the last time he was seen, but restored to his former state of glory... And he was the only one! In fact, there wasn't even a sign to indicate Zellers even sold this toy, or how much he cost. I felt like I'd just stepped into the Twilight Zone! In a heartbeat, I grabbed the monkey and ran to find Keka.

I'll never be able to properly describe the look in that little girl's eyes as she took Marshmallow and crushed him against herself. It was as if she had just witnessed a miracle.

Who knows? Maybe she had.

Unrequited Geeking

Last weekend, while Chana and I were just sitting around the house, she happened to show me something in a flyer. To be perfectly honest with you, I have no idea what that "something" was, though, because a completely different "something" caught my eye instead. And that "something" was a Skype-enabled USB phone. Now, whether you know what that is or not, you might be thinking that it sounds a little on the geeky side...

And how!

Okay, just so we're all on the same page here, Skype is a web-based service that allows you to use your PC to call other PCs also running Skype (voice chat, essentially), but can also be used to make and receive calls to and from mobile phones and landlines. The PC to PC method is absolutely free, PC to landline/mobile calls are dirt-cheap (or free in the U.S. and Canada until the end of the year), and a to purchase a number that landline/mobile users can call to reach you on your PC costs about $45CAD per year.

Basically, it's simply the freakin' cheapest telephone setup possible, short of tapping into your neighbor's line.

Don't want to sit around with a headset and mic every time you want to make a call? Yeah, me neither! And that's where the Skype-enabled USB phone comes in. You simply plug this little baby into an available USB port (has anyone ever tried to plug something into an unavailable USB port?) the way you would plug a normal phone into a walljack, get Skype running on your PC, and away you go. Simple, tidy, and (in case I haven't mentioned it) cheap.

So, after seeing that London Drugs, one of our local retailers, was having a sale on these phones, I made a point of stopping in to get one. You see, I don't have a home phone. I have a cell phone, which is better for me because I'm not home enough to have a real phone just sitting there collecting dust and costing money. But, if you've ever had a conversation on a cell phone for more than 3 minutes, you know what a pain it is to hold on to the stupid thing while you try to go about making dinner, washing dishes, or whatever. So, I figured, since this USB-thingy was so cheap, and Skype is so cheap, not to mention that I'm so cheap, I might as well get myself hooked up with the whole thing.

As is my luck, not only had the sale not started yet, but the product hadn't even been delivered. Now, I'm not exactly what you'd call the most patient person in the world, especially when it comes to geeking-out, so I immediately started looking around for other places to buy a Skype phone. Future Shop had one, but it was too expensive. Best Buy had one on sale, but the sale ended the day before. A small shop near where I work had one, but a little research online told me it was garbage. And then I stumbled across one with a name I recognized, got good ratings online, and only cost $26. And the store was right across the street from where I work! Awesome!

Knowing I was going to go get one on my coffee break, I decided to log into my Skype account and purchase a SkypeIn number... You know, sort of get everything set up so I could just go home, plug in my new gadget and wait for someone to call me. And that's when my whole plan came crashing down around me like a house of cards.

It seems that there are no Canadian SkypeIn numbers yet. I can get one in the States, in England, heck, I can even get one in Poland, but then people would have to call there to reach me. Kinda defeats the purpose! I can still use Skype to make calls from my PC, no problem, but nobody can call me.

Apparently, it has something to do with the Canadian Radio-Television Commission not releasing Canadian phone numbers to Skype because Skype does not offer a 911 service. I think that's a load of crap since Skype isn't trying to be a telephone provider, per se, and there are other applications similar to Skype that do offer Canadian numbers, like vbuzzer. I could go with one of those, but I'd be more comfortable sticking with a company and application with a good reputation. I don't want to buy something from somebody, only to find out the quality is crap, you know?

So, no Skype-enabled USB phone for me, for now. Until the CRTC relaxes a bit, I'll have to find something else to do with my computer to ease this current need to geek-out... Any suggestions?

Gratuitous Comeback

Last night, we took Chana's eldest and youngest daughters out for dinner to celebrate their respective birthdays. The place wasn't busy at all, and we only had 3 of the 6 kids in tow (mine was the third), but the service still started off a little slow. Usually this annoys me, but tonight I have to admit that I didn't really notice until the waitress apologized to us.

She started telling us about the crazy day she'd been having, in that way waitresses do... You know, like you're one of their friends whose just popped by for a visit. She explained that she'd had to go back to the kitchen four times on her shift already to make corrections, which didn't exactly instill any confidence in us, as we hadn't yet placed our soon-to-be-mixed-up orders. Then she went on to tell us that one of her tables had left a huge tip for her, but probably because they felt sorry for her, rather than for the service.

I had no idea how to respond to this, but Chana stepped in and saved the day with the funniest one-liner ever, delivered in her usual, deeply heart-felt voice:

"Oh, honey. Don't you worry... We won't make that mistake."

Child: Handle with Care

My day started off on a bit of a sad note... As we were walking up to the place where I leave my daughter for Before-and-After-School Care, she asked me, "Who's at the door?" I looked up and there was, in fact, a lady, with a baby in a stroller, standing on the stoop and talking to the caregiver. This may not seem weird, but it was because I drop my daughter off about an hour before anyone else does.

Now, I'm not the nosey type, so I just stood at the bottom of the stairs, out of earshot, waiting for the conversation to end. At one point, the caregiver leaned out, gave the lady a quick hug, then indicated that I was waiting to drop off my daughter. The lady moved aside to let us pass and, as we did so, I noticed the lady was crying and I heard her say, "...daycare is starving him. I was just hoping you had a spot open..."

The next couple of minutes were filled with me getting my daughter in the door and talking to the caregiver about the pick-up and drop-off arrangements for the new school year. The whole time, the lady with the baby stood on the steps outside, sobbing. If I'd had a bit more time to think about it, I'd probably have been quite uncomfortable with the whole situation (I don't usually know how to deal with "emotional people") but, as it was, I had a bus to catch and was feeling just a little rushed. As I made my way back down the walk, I turned to give my daughter a wave good-bye and saw that the caregiver was inviting the crying lady inside.

Once on the bus, I had some time to reflect on what I had just witnessed. Obviously, this lady was having a very difficult time with her current child care solution, based on the "starving him" comment and her being desperate enough to knock on the door of a complete stranger at 6:30 in the morning just because there was an "Approved Child Care" sign in the front window. Although I've never been pushed to this point myself, the whole scene reminded me of the few times that I've had similar predicaments and how helpless I felt. I once picked my daughter up from daycare (she was an infant at the time) and was told by one of the staff, "You should take her to a doctor. She's had a fever all day." What?!? And I'm hearing about it now? At the end of the day? Needless to say, I completely lost it and my daughter was out of that daycare faster than you can blink. It's a horrible feeling when you find yourself without someone to watch your child so you can go off to work. Worse still is having to leave your child with someone, then spending the whole day wondering if they are okay.

When I was a young lad, things were different. Most families had one parent who worked and one who stayed home to take care of the kids. Mom was always there to see us off to school, to have lunch waiting for us, and to make us do our homework before we went out to play. Nowadays, though, it's almost impossible to raise kids on a single income. Sure, I manage well enough on my own with my daughter, but it's still the same thing: Every parent in our house has to go to work. In turn, that means the kids have to go with someone in the meantime... someone that can be trusted and counted on to take decent care of them and see to their basic needs.

I don't know what's going to happen with the crying lady and her little baby. I do know that the dayhome I'm using is pretty full. Of course, I also know that my daughter's caregiver is a woman with a big heart and an amazing reputation in the neighborhood. Hopefully, even if she can't help the lady out personally, she'll be able to point her in the direction of someone who can.

Wee Wisdom

At the tender age of seven, my daughter is already beginning to question the constructs and immutable laws of her little universe. As we were walking to the store yesterday, she watched her feet for a while then turned to me and said,

"I step on cracks all the time, but when I go to Mommy's, she never has a broken back."

No One's Laughing Now

For years, the jokes and satirical impressions have made us laugh. In the end, though, it's just not funny.

(Thanks to Adem for the heads up...)

From Digg: Digg's Mysterious Ways

I have to admit... I'm relatively new to the whole "Digg scene". That's not to say that I don't know what it's all about, just that I haven't made as much use of it up to this point as many others have. And that's not because I don't think highly of it... But I'm getting off track here. Let me start again.

Digg is one of the coolest offerings on the web today, in my opinion. It's right up there with Google (the God of all Cool Web Offerings), blogging, and YouTube. It's one-stop shopping for surfers interested in the latest, coolest, most newsworthy items of the day. It's a dynamic, evolving collection of stories, links, and opinions on just about every topic imaginable. It's the way to keep your finger on the digital pulse of the world.

But does it work?

That, in essence, is the question asked by Napfisk in his write-up, "More of Digg's Mysterious Ways". Are we really seeing the best of the best when we click on a highly-Dugg story, or are we seeing the results of a web-based popularity contest? How much sway do the posting user's contacts and connections have over the actual "coolness" of the content being Dugg? And, most importantly, is Digg a vehicle for the sharing of interesting content (as I originally thought), or is it simply the latest web-game with users vying for spots on the front page?

Whatever the answers are to these questions, I'm pretty sure Digg will only continue to grow in popularity. That's the way it is with all good tools, which is (I believe) what Digg is meant to be. Perhaps, as with most "fads", this one will find it's own balance and we'll see less bias and more true social networking.

Here's hoping.

Anyway, if you're not already a Digg user, go sign up and give it a whirl. And be sure to let me know what you think.

read more | digg story

Photo of the Week:National Geographic, Here I Come!

An iguana perches on a rock by the ocean in the Virgin Islands. I couldn't have planned a more perfect shot.

Click here to see the complete Caribbean Cruise Vacation Photo Set.

Happy Birthday, Blondie!

I'm having a hard time believing it, but I guess the calendar doesn't lie... My little girl is a whopping seven years old today!

I hope you're having a great birthday party, hanging out with your Mom and brothers and sisters. The kids, the games, the cake, and, of course, the presents... Yeah, I'm sure you're having a blast! And just think... When you come back home to Dad, we're gonna do it all over again!

How awesome is that?

(And now for the mushy part...)

Thanks for being the best kid a Dad could ask for, and for making the last seven years the best ones of my life. I love ya lots, Kiddo!

(This concludes the mushy portion of this post)

Okay. Now, get back in there and show those kids how to party!

Boring Childhood Stories: Grin and Bear It

He refuses to discuss the incident. What he was thinking, I'll never know. How it happened, I can only guess.

Sssssst.

That was the sound I heard. No more than half a second, and I was alone in the room. But before I even had time to wonder what the sound was, a tickle in the back of my throat grew to a pinprick to a scratch to a spasm in the span of a heartbeat. Through the ensuing coughing fit I could hear others in the house having the same problem.

That Christmas, my brothers and I had driven 15 hours down a deserted, icy highway to reach our parents' cabin in the middle of nowhere. Actually, one of my brothers drove, the other slept in the back seat, and I rode shotgun, forcing myself to stay awake to make sure the driver didn't nod off behind the wheel. A couple of times, the exhaustion was just too much for the two of us and he'd pull over, shut off the car, and we'd grab a little shut-eye. Eventually, the car would cool off enough that our shivering brought us around and he'd start the car back up and we'd be on our way.

The trip ended at a hunting and fishing lodge high up in the mountains of British Columbia, closed for the season. The lake was frozen solid, snow had been blown into 8-foot high drifts, and the only people within 50 miles of the place were a few lumberjacks and a cook holed up in a logging camp down the road. The main lodge where my parents and sister lived was warm and inviting though... A rustic log cabin style building with great big windows and a deck overlooking the place. Inside, my stepfather kept a blaze going in the fireplace and there was almost good enough reception on the TV in the corner to make out who was playing on Hockey Night in Canada. Mom made sure there was a steady supply of hot coffee and the kittens chased each other or little balls of Kleenex across the hardwood floors.

One of the simple realities of living in such a remote part of the Canadian Wilderness is the presence of bears. Maybe not so much in the dead of winter, but certainly during the warmer months. So, I wasn't the least bit surprised to find a can of bear spray in my mother's kitchen. For those unfamiliar with this product, it's essentially pepper spray, but powerful enough to deter a 7-foot, 850lb mountain of teeth and claws. But how strong is that, exactly?

From what I now understand, a half-second burst (which tends to sound like "Sssssst", by the way) packs enough punch to inflict coughing fits in 6 people in 3 different rooms, render the brother who pulled the trigger teary-eyed, red-faced, and sullen, and inspire jokes for something like 11 years now.

(That's pretty strong.)

Somebody Light a Fire Under Me

Maybe I'm still in vacation mode... Or maybe I'm having a hard time re-adjusting to my busy work schedule (I almost typed that with a straight face)... Either way, I'm finding it very difficult to get motivated enough to crop, resize, and post the many photos I took while we were in the Caribbean. Chana has practically been begging me to get it done, but I'm still no more than halfway through.

So, this morning I posted a batch of pictures to my Cuppojoe's Trips Flickr account. Hopefully this little sample will buy me enough time to get the rest done...

Enjoy!

Putting the "Ass" in Mass Transit

Can someone explain to me what is with public transportation in this city? I mean, seriously, can it get much worse? Sure, taking the bus isn't supposed to be as convenient as driving your own car, but it really shouldn't make you wish you were walking the entire distance either!

This has been bothering me for quite a while, but I think I'm getting close to the boiling point, so I better get it off my chest. You see, I ride the bus to and from work everyday. I don't live terribly far from work, maybe 15 minutes by car, but I also need to drop off my daughter at her caregiver's house each morning, then pick her up on my way home, too. And I use the term "on my way" loosely because, in truth, I actually have to go out of my way to get there. But that's no big deal... I just wish I could say the same for the buses.

In the morning, it's not so bad. We catch a bus practically right outside our back door that takes us to within a 2 block walk of the caregiver's house. From there, I walk for another 5 minutes to catch an express bus toward the downtown core. I get off quite a way's away from downtown, though, and transfer to one of the crosstown buses that goes right past my warehouse. All in all, it takes about 40 minutes for the whole trip. Like I said, not so bad.

Then there's the ride home.

I catch the crosstown bus heading the other way after work. Of course, this bus is always late... usually by 10 minutes or more. Once, it was over 45 minutes late because it (and about 3 buses behind it) got stuck at a train crossing. Can you believe that? Here, in the "big city", one train managed to cripple a major bus route. Am I the only person who thinks this is ludicrous? Oh, and did I mention this bus is always packed, standing room only? Nothing quite like standing shoulder to shoulder with a busload of people who have had the entire day to work up some powerful body odor, let me tell you! Luckily, I only need to stay on it for about 15 minutes.

Then I transfer to an express bus back to within a 5-minute walk of my caregiver's house. Sometimes this bus is packed, sometimes it's empty. Sometimes it is on schedule, sometimes I don't see a bus forever and then 3 pull up at the same time. I can never figure out what the variables are that affect this behavior, because it seems entirely random. Anyway, that leg of the trip lasts another 20 minutes or so and I can finally pick up my daughter.

Now, here's where the real fun begins.

I live only about 4 minutes away from the caregiver, by car. By bus, it's a totally different story. There's one that goes right by the house, but always cruises by 4 or 5 minutes early, making me miss it every time. You see, it's the last run for that particular driver, and he seems to like getting off work a tad early. Lucky him. There's also a bus 2 blocks away (the same one we take together in the morning, but going the other way). This one would be perfect... if it ever came. As it turns out, this particular neighborhood happens to be the "end of the line" for many of the rush hour buses. What does that mean, you are wondering? It means that lots of buses bring people home to that neighborhood, but none travel back. Lucky me.

In all, my trip home from work takes about an hour and half.

Now, as I was riding one of the packed buses after work today, the bus driver made a little speech... He told everyone who was tired of the buses being late and overcrowded to call Calgary Transit and complain. Sure, good idea, but it's why he told us to do this that really got my attention... He said, "Because they don't do anything when us bus drivers tell them about the problems."

What the...?

I'm outraged! I have half a mind to take that driver's advice, call the transit people up, and give them a piece of my mind. Oh... wait. I've already done that. Their answer to my comments about the poorly planned after work schedules? They said they'd look into it before the new schedules were assigned... which has actually happened 6 times since then, but the problems are the same.

Oh yeah, and they raised the fares.

Great Way to Start the Day

The morning routine in my house starts pretty early... around 5 am for me and about 5:30 for my 6 year old daughter. Since our landlord lives directly above us and doesn't get up as early as we do, I've taught my little one to be especially quiet until we leave for work and daycare. So, this morning, as I was applying pineapple-scented pliable molding creme to my hair shaving my incredibly manly beard, her sudden cries of, "Daddy! Daddy!" brought me running.

Expecting the worst, I rushed out of the bathroom, prepared to tackle whatever calamity had caused her to be so uncharacteristically noisy first thing in the morning. "Daddy, look!" she said, pointing to her cereal bowl.

There, floating in the remaining milk, were the last few bits of her Cap'n Crunch, arranged to form a perfect smiley face. She was practically beaming with pride.

You know what? So was I.

Sunday Spotlight: DMC & Me

What better time to do a Sunday Spotlight than 16 weeks after the last one? Sixteen seems like a nice, round number...

If you were a teenager in the 80's and, more importantly, a teenage boy in the 80's, then you probably had dreams of owning a Delorean, running it up to 88 mph, and laying down two strips of fire as you propelled yourself back to the moment in time when you decided to watch "Airwolf" instead of studying for your Social Studies test.

(Much better than going back in time to watch your parents make out for the first time... Bleech!)

Although some of us lose sight of our childhood dreams, there are a rare few who don't. Rarer still are those who actually make those dreams come true. And one of those guys just happens to be the star of this week's spotlight, Martini from DMC & Me.

(Not a bad set-up, eh?)

Okay, so he hasn't managed to travel through time... yet. But he's already acquired the most crucial element: a 1981 Delorean DMC-12. How sweet is that? And I say, "yet" because he's already managed to construct the famed Flux Capacitor! How totally frickin' sweet is that?!?

Seriously though, I found Martini's blog through Chana, who has been a faithful reader for quite some time now, ever since she discovered he's also one of the writers over at Useless Advice from Useless Men. Anyway, a few weeks ago, I decided to expand my little blog-reading horizons a bit, and figured a good start would be one that she's already given her stamp of approval. So, off I went.

Now, I've only made it a few months into the archives, but I'm already loving this blog. Not only is Martini funny in a sharp wit sort of way, but his posts tend to border on actual "informativeness" without ever leaving you with the feeling that you've just read a brochure or product manual. And most of it is stuff we can all relate to, which is something that can't be said for many blogs! Sure, he knows and writes a lot about cars (not just his beloved Delorean), but he never goes over your head with it.

And it's not all about cars, either... In his own words (because plagarism is the lazy man's creativity), Martini's blog is "Not exclusively DeLorean-related, Blogs include stories, information, and things of varying levels of interest", which is great because I think we all experience varying levels of interest from time to time.

So, go check out DMC & Me while I start scanning the Auto Trader for a 1982 Trans Am I can outfit with auto-pilot and turbo boost...

Apocalypse Never?

They're everywhere. They're on our desks, in our cars, and, in some cases, even inside our bodies. They've been around less than a hundred years, in comparison to our supposed 100,000+ years, yet we've already reached a point where living without them is almost unimaginable. They keep track of our money, help us stay in touch, and even record TV shows they think we'd like to see.

But computers will never rule the world.

We'll never have to worry about an army of Terminators methodically wiping out the human race. We're not going to end up as human batteries, blissfully ignorant of our enslavement in a virtual reality. And we won't even have to consider resisting assimilation into a race of cyborgs. It's just not going to happen.

How do I know this? Is it because humans are more adaptive than machines? Or because we can reproduce relatively quickly and inexpensively? Or maybe because something as "simple" as common sense is too difficult to program in a machine? Sure, but I arrived at my conclusion in a much more personal way. Here's the breakdown:

I rock at Unreal Tournament. You set the difficulty of that game at whatever level you want, in any match mode, and I will kick ass. I'll side-step oncoming rockets like they were old ladies with walkers... I'll spin around corners, dropping enemies before they even see me... And I'll capture enough flags to end the game before the enemy even reaches my base. I've done it hundreds of times already, and I'm sure I'll do it hundreds of more times. Like I said, I rock at Unreal Tournament. The game even tells me I'm "Godlike!"

Of course, that's if I'm playing against computer opponents... Once I go online, any 14 year old kid living off of Coke and Doritos in his mother's basement can pwn my ass in about 16 seconds.

So, forget about SkyNet achieving awareness and nuking the planet. I'm more worried about the day little Johnnie finally figures out how to use a belt, gets a job, and becomes the leading target demographic.

Heaven help us.

The Caribbean in a Nutshell

You'd think, having recently come back from a vacation that involved 4 airplanes, 1 cruise ship, 4 cities, 3 islands, and more spent dollars than I'm willing to think about right now, that I'd have enough blog material to keep me going for a while... And you'd be right. So why, then, has it been a full week since I sent foot once again on Canadian soil and I haven't written a single word? Good question.

I was chatting about this very topic just this morning with my good buddy Napfisk, trying to figure out the cause for my lack of blogging. In the end, what I came up with was this: I've got enough stories to thoroughly bore each and every one of you six times over. I know if I were to write about everything that's spinning around in my head right now, it would be like forcing you all sit through 17 carousels of vacation slides... So, who's in?

Yeah, that's what I thought...

All right, so what I've decided to do (for now, at least) is just give you little glimpses of the trip. I figure you'll get a good enough idea of how incredibly awesome it was and, as Napfisk mentioned, I'll still have plenty of unshared material for future anecdotes.

The Flight to Miami

• Turbulence makes Chana think the plane is going to fall out of the sky, but lulls me to sleep like a baby in a cradle.
  
• Chicago's O'Hare airport (our one stop-over) doesn't seem very big, until you go looking for a quick bite other than McDonald's.
  
• No matter how hot and humid it feels inside Miami International at 10:30 at night, it's nothing compared to the blast of wet heat that hits you the second you step outside.

Chilling with the Family

• Nicaraguan food is unpronounceable, but delicious.
  
• Chana doesn't like to share things that are unpronounceable but delicious.
  
• Never trust Chana to teach you Spanish... She tried to get me to comment on her Grandma's butt as a way of saying "thank you". (I'll stick with "gracias")
  
• As embarrassing as this is to admit, a lot of Miami looked familiar from my many hours of playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. (I guess those guys at Rockstar Games deserve a few kudos)

The Cruise Ship

• Cruise lines should not serve alcohol prior to the Coast Guard-regulated, ship-wide safety drill.
  
• Even on a 952-foot, 110,000 tonne vessel, you will feel the effects of 8-foot swells.
  
• First-time cruisers are easy to spot... we were the ones spending the first 2 days aboard sticking our heads out of the elevator, looking back and forth, then saying, "Damn."
  
• People will look at you funny if the pianist in the main lounge begins playing the Titanic theme song at your request. (Chana bought him a drink for his trouble)
  
• Reading two blogs and checking one bank account costs a little over $30US via satellite high speed internet.
  
• When treating yourselves to a fancy 5-course meal (formal wear required), 2 glasses in is a bad time to ask the price of a bottle 1996 Dom Perignon. ($169US, in case you're similarly curious)

Nassau, Bahamas

• Women, you will be solicited to have your hair braided "island-style" at least every forty feet as you walk through town.
  
• The ferry that takes passengers to the Dolphin Encounter at Blue Lagoon is located a brisk 15-minute walk from the Cruise Ship. Said ferry passes within 100 feet of said Cruise Ship on its way to Blue Lagoon...
  
• Feeding, kissing, hugging, and dancing with a dolphin is cool.
  
• A poorly-made VHS tape of you feeding, kissing, hugging, and dancing with a dolphin is expensive.
  
• My shirtless body can be used to set the white-balance on a Handicam.

St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands

• A 32 square mile island is not big enough for 50,000 people plus tourists.
  
• Americans should never, ever drive on the left-hand side of the road.
  
• You've entered a whole new world when you visit a place with the need for public signs stating, "Please Don't Feed the Iguanas".
  
• Disposable cameras rated as "Water-proof to 30 feet" may not become water-logged during a helmet dive 20 feet below the waves, but they may not actually operate at the pressures of that depth either.
  
• A sea turtle swimming by has the ability to make Chana fill the inside of her helmet with tears of joy.
  
• Paying $90+ each to visit Coral World Ocean Park, being taken there an hour and a half before the staff leave for the day, and needing an hour of that time for the orientation and helmet dive is just plain bad planning on the part of the Shore Excursion Team.

St. Maarten, Dutch West Indies

• Women, you will be solicited to have your hair braided "island style" here, too... and they'll practically chase you down if you try to avoid them!
  
• The shops here are a haggler's paradise.
  
• Some of the best stores can be found down little alleys, away from the main streets.
  
• The water is clear, green, and absolutely awesome to swim in.
  
• The creator of Yoda is not much bigger than the Jedi Master himself.
  
• There are more kinds of rum available in St. Maarten than I ever would have dreamed existed.

Coming Home

• Parting truly is such sweet sorrow (just ask Chana).
  
• The initials for Miami International Airport are a little disconcerting, especially when they're emblazoned with a black jetliner everywhere you turn.
  
• The Boeing 777 is fast and relatively comfortable, even in coach.
  
• The airport at Dallas / Ft. Worth (our one stop-over) is big, by any definition.
  
• Boarding a plane for Dallas consists of a lot of pushing and shoving. Boarding a plane for Calgary consists of a lot of, "No, no... You first. I insist." (You can draw your own conclusions)
  
• If you pack all the gifts in a red suitcase, and plan to open that suitcase in front of 5 kids as soon as you get home, make sure you grab your red suitcase from the Baggage Claim. It will save you much disappointment and a trip back to the airport.

As you can see, there are a few stories in there, to be sure. And who knows? I might even get around to writing a couple of them for you... Some day. For now, though, suffice it to say we had an incredible vacation and can't wait to do it all over again next year!

P.S. I took a little over 300 photos. I'll post a few for you soon.

Something;s Messed Up

Warning to all computer users out there... I believe I am the first to discover an insidious new virus wreaking havoc on our beloved machines.

For the past few weeks, I have noticed that I can;t seem to type apostrophes properly. Whenever I attempt this normally mundane feat, it isn;t an apostrophe I see... At first, I thought maybe I;d managed to re-map a couple of keys on my keyboard, but that can;t be it. You see, it happens no matter which computer I;m sitting at!

As of yet, haven;t figured out a fix for this perplexing problem. While I'm working on it, though, please forgive any unusual characters you might see in emails, chats, comments, or posts from me. For now, I;m pretty sure it;s an isolated character set (I;m close to figuring out exactly which ones), but you never know how these virus things work... The situation could easily get worse before it get;s betteR.

Existence

Who am I once I fall asleep? Who is this dream-self, this person so like me yet so utterly different? How, once slumber has taken its hold, do I know his world, his life, his thoughts? We are like two people existing in one body. My consciousness becomes tangled in his, giving me the eerie feeling that I am at once a participant and a passenger here.

This again. This place that is both odd and oddly familiar. The concrete walls stretching high overhead, the gravel floor, the single massive doorway leading to a grey world outside, and the enormous ramp, obviously built to handle something very large or a great many small things at once. Where does it lead? Even my dream-self doesn't know. We never go there.

In the floor, near the wall, is a hole. Beside the hole, a pile of rock. The hole is shallow, empty, pointless. I made this hole, not now, but another time. A darker time. And there were others here then. Was I searching for something? I can't remember. I can't remember digging, I only know I did. The hole is a reminder that I've been here before.

Maybe not so pointless...

That ledge up there, just beyond the ramp... I've stood there looking down here. That time I came upon this place from above, climbing down a rocky ledge until my feet touched concrete. That time, there was no high cement ceiling to keep out the sky, but it was still this place. The hole was there then, too. And the others.

My dream-self moves about as though he knows our purpose here. We stand at the edge of the hole, but not looking at the hole. I am in awe at the sheer size of this bizarre structure, while my dream-self shows no interest in our surroundings at all. He is preoccupied. I know, because I feel it too, but by what I don't know. I am much more the passenger now.

But I want to know more. What is the purpose of this place? What lies outside the door? Where are the others? This body is my body too and I will it to turn around, to see the things I want to see, to go where I want to go. The hole is behind us now, the doorway looming ahead of us. Just a few more steps...

Like every time before this, everything is fading. The walls, the floor, the ramp... everything. I struggle to hold it all together, as if I have the power to keep this world from dissolving into nothingness. But I don't. Like every time before this, I swear I will remember everything, even after it ceases to exist, although I know in my core that I won't. But it doesn't matter... I'll be back. I always come back here.

Now, my dream-self has slipped off into the shadows, stealing his memories away with him. I am alone, in my bed, surrounded by the familiarity I call "life".

And there was something I was supposed to remember...

Edit: While I truly do have this weird feeling like I lead a totally different life in my dreams, reading over this I realize that I probably shouldn't blog under the influence of heavy cold medication!

My Eyes! I'm Not Supposed to Get Crap in Them!

It's official: The world of entertainment has hit the bottom of the barrel.

Sad to say, even I've become accustomed to flipping through the channels and seeing at least 3 different programs spotlighting the "sport" of Texas Hold 'Em Poker. I can't say that I've ever watched an episode, but I accept they are there and that some people think this is entertaining. Hell, if I played poker, I might watch just to get tips. But I don't, so I don't.

That being said, as I was sitting back and getting a cathode ray tan this weekend, I stumbled across what has to be the stupidest thing I've ever seen (and, let's face it, there's a lot of stupid stuff on TV).

It was on A&E. Remember that channel? In the early 90's it was often referred to as the "War and Comedy" channel, thanks to a line-up of shows focusing on World War II or stand-up comedy. Then it evolved into the "Crime and Punishment" channel with the likes of "Cold Case Files" and "American Justice". Although I'm not sure if these four topics could ever be considered "art", they were definitely "entertainment". So, close enough for me.

A terrible corner has been turned, however, with their latest offering: "Rock Paper Scissors Championship". Seriously. A full hour devoted to a school yard game used to decide which team captain gets first pick! Seriously. People from all across the U.S. who have apparently, through the use of "skill", risen to the top and earned the right to compete for the title of Rock Paper Scissors Champion.

Did I miss something? Have the Laws of Reality and Common Sense been turned completely inside out? How would you "train" for something like this? It would be like training to call a coin-toss, or studying how to buy the winning ticket in a 50-50 draw. Come on, people! It's luck... nothing else! And no self-respecting adult should be signing a waiver to allow their stupidity to be shown on national TV.

I only watched about 3 minutes of this garbage before surfing on the find something -- anything -- better, but I was "fortunate" enough to have caught a little bio on one of the competitors. She was asked how Rock Paper Scissors has helped her in life. Seriously... I can't even make this kind of stuff up. She told a rambling tale of living on the street, needing to anticipate the actions of others to protect herself. Then she told of a time that her and few friends only had enough money to buy one meal at McDonald's, and they played Rock Paper Scissors for it. Staring straight into the camera, she proclaimed, "Because of Rock Paper Scissors, I got to eat that day."

I swear, if they start televising Bingo, I'm canceling my cable package.

What It's All About

Like Dads everywhere, I awoke this morning to a little voice saying, "Can I give you your present now?"

Although I love my new change dish, and it will get an honored spot on my bedside table for years to come, I wonder if my tiny angel knows that the best present I ever got came 6 years ago.

Happy Father's Day!

Photo of the Week: Cast Away

A sight for stranded eyes.
Posted by Picasa

Ooo! That's Gonna Leave a Mark!

I logged into YouTube today, looking for something entertaining to watch while I ate my lunch, and I was hit in the face with this:

Thanks for the blow to my self-esteem, YouTube! If anyone needs me, I'll be stuffing my face with a gallon of Rocky Road...

I'm On Steroids!

It finally got to me... I tried to ignore it as best I could, but it wouldn't leave me alone... I thought I was going to go insane if I couldn't find a way to make it stop.

I'm not talking about Chana nagging me to go see a doctor... I'm talking about the itching!

The rash wasn't any better this morning. In fact, it was worse. The affected area seemed to have grown a bit, and the itching was definitely more intense. Still, being the guy I am, I tried to shrug it off and tough it out one more day before getting alarmed. Of course, the very second Chana saw me this morning, she demanded that I go get looked at or run the risk of killing her with stress.

Maybe someday she'll understand my point of view when it comes to doctors... but I doubt it.

Despite my "mind over matter" attitude, however, by the time I got to work I was ready to crawl out of my skin! As long as I had something to occupy my mind, I was fine, but it was a slow day and there was lots of time to sit there at my desk and think, "Damn! This itches!"

I decided I would leave work early and go see a doctor. I figured 2 o'clock would be good, so that I didn't miss too much time. We've got a cruise to pay for, after all! Well, I only made it to 11:30 before I told the boss I just couldn't hang in there any longer. Then I called Chana, and she was only too happy to come get me and take me to the clinic.

Big surprise, eh?

And if caving in like that wasn't a big enough piece of humble pie for me, Chana had to serve it up with a bit of ice cream. Here's how:

We were sitting in the waiting room and talking about all the things that could have caused the rash. As I said, I didn't do anything different on the weekend, didn't change any of my soaps or personal toiletries, and didn't wear any new clothes. It was then that Chana made a joke about me being allergic to my new camera. Ha ha ha.

Wait.

At that very moment, we both knew exactly what had caused the break-out. As stupid as it sounds, it had to have been my new camera... Or, more precisely, the neck strap. You see, there's a piece of soft rubber on the strap right where it rests against my neck. And this is the only new thing that was anywhere near me this weekend. On top of that, I remember having an identical reaction to a hands-free headset I bought for my cell phone. It, too, had that rubbery material on the behind-the-ear part. The resulting rash behind my ear nearly drove me nuts!

So, she not only got me to go to a doctor, but then she diagnosed me before I even got in the room... I'm not going to hear the end of this one any time soon.

Anyway, I've been put on this prescription cream that I have to apply 3 times a day to control the itching and reduce the inflammation. It's something called a "corticosteroid", but I'm going to go with "steroids" because it sounds cooler.

You can't expect me to give up all my Manly Silliness at once...

An Itch to Scratch

I woke up this morning with a that faint tickle in the back of my throat that usually signals the approach of a cold. Sometimes it goes away after my morning shower, but this time it didn't. Nor did a hot cup of Green Tea help at all (yesterday was Day 60, so I'm allowed the caffeine, just not the coffee... yet). It looks like I'm probably coming down with something.

Then, as I was putting on my jacket to leave for work, I noticed that my neck felt a little itchy. Of course, I have next to no wiggle room in my morning routine, so I chalked it up to an irritating shirt collar and promptly forgot about it... until I was on the bus, that is.

I checked to make sure the tag on my shirt wasn't rubbing my neck, causing the irritation. It wasn't. I checked to make sure it wasn't one of my uncomfortable scratchy shirts. It wasn't. So then I felt the back of my neck... I thought I might be just a wee bit paranoid, because I was pretty sure I could feel tiny bumps back there.

It wasn't until I finally got to work that I could check myself in a mirror. Sure enough, the back and sides of my neck are bright red and covered in little bumps. Where the heck did I get this rash from? In all my 35 years on this planet, I have yet to come across something I'm allergic too, so that's out of the question. And yesterday was just a relaxing Sunday at home, so I didn't come into contact with anything out of the ordinary. I even ate the same kinds of foods that I always eat, ruling out some sort of bizarre reaction.

So, what gives?

Much Going On

Okay, since I've been pretty lazy lately about posting, there are a few things to get you people caught up on.

Ready? Here we go...

First of all, as of today, I have gone without coffee for 55 days. For most of that time I was able to say I went without caffeine, but my little slip-up with the Green Tea ruined that. Oh well. Anyway, I've picked a couple of target dates for re-caffeinating this little ol' mind of mine... On Day 60 (June 11) I will allow myself to resume consuming foods and drink that contain caffeine, with the exception of coffee itself. I have decided that Day 75 (June 26) will be The Day... the day that I once again sip from the chalice of java goodness.

Why have I finally decided to go back, you wonder? Well, it all has to do with the third thing I'm going to bring you up to speed on.

Moving on...

Secondly, I made a purchase last Sunday. And, let me tell you, this was one doozy of a purchase! I have finally made the leap into the realm of digital SLR cameras with my acquisition of an Olympus EVOLT-500. This badboy boasts an impressive 8 megapixel resolution, dual media slots, and a 2-lens kit that will have me shooting like a pro in no time (I hope). I loaded 'er up with a 2GB CompactFlash card for some serious storage, and went so far as to spring for the optional remote control so I can take even more pictures of me and Chana that you'll probably never see!

And why would I spend so much money on a camera right before summer holidays, you're also wondering? Well, that too has to do with the third thing... and here it is:

Chana and I have officially booked our vacation for the summer of 2006. Not surprising, since we make a point to take at least one big trip every year, but this one is going to top any trips we've taken so far.

Are you ready for this? On June 30, we'll be leaving Canada for a 7-day cruise of the Eastern Caribbean! First, we'll fly to Miami and spend a couple days with Chana's family before boarding the magnificent Carnival Valor, one of the biggest "Fun Ships" in the Carnival fleet.

Can you believe it?!? A week of utter decadence on a floating paradise! The food... the shows... the sights! I think it might border on sensory overload! And we'll get the chance to do some cool things off the boat, as well, when we put in to places like St. Maarten and St. Thomas. Chana is having a hard time deciding between the Dolphin Encounter or swimming with the stingrays...

So, I decided to end my coffee-drought in time to enjoy some java while on holidays, and I bought the camera (obviously) in order to capture as much of the beauty of the Caribbean as I can.

Well, we're only 25 days away from departure, and there's still lots of stuff to get planned and arranged. In the meantime, check out these links and maybe give us your opinion on what we should try to do while we're down there:

Onboard Experience
Shore Excursions (Nassau)
Shore Excursions (St. Thomas)
Shore Excursions (St. Maarten)

Icefield / Jasper Weekend: Part 4 (a.k.a. "The End")

Okay, so it has taken me more days to tell the story of our long weekend getaway than there actually were in the weekend, and I'm sure you're all sick and tired of the pictures, but I gotta finish what I started...

Sorry.

On the way back to Calgary from Jasper, we had to go back down along the picturesque Icefields Parkway, and right past the Icefields Centre were the whole thing began. Fortunately, the weather was a bit nicer than it was on our way out, so I got the chance to get a better picture of the Athabasca Glacier.

I drove the whole way, which meant two things: We went just a wee bit over the posted speed limit (insert conspiratorial wink and nudge here), and Chana went camera crazy from the passenger seat. This combination seemed to work just fine, as long as she was taking pictures out the front windshield, but almost every shot she took out her window turned out to be a blur.

Once we were off the parkway and back on the main highway back to the city, I made the decision to slow our trip down a little and take a different route. There's a smaller highway that runs parallel to the main one all the way to Banff, called the Bow Valley Parkway. The speed limit is only 60km/hr instead of the 90km/hr posted limit on Highway 1 (where everybody does at least 110km/hr) and it's a lot more scenic. I hadn't been down that road since a buddy and I used it coming back from a weekend in Radium, BC 17 years ago, and Chana had never been on it, so it seemed like a great idea.

Usually after a line like, "it seemed like a great idea" I end up writing about some tragic or ironic twist... but not this time. In fact, it turned out to be the perfect idea. We saw more wildlife along that one stretch of road than we had seen all weekend! The elk were right along the side of the road, and they weren't shy about having their pictures taken.

Chana got a laugh after I pulled over in front of a couple in a truck who were looking at one of these beautiful creatures (that's not the funny part... wait for it). I grabbed my camera, jumped out of the van, and crossed the road toward the animal so I could get a nice close shot. I didn't see what happened in the truck behind me at the time, but Chana told me all about it afterward (and here comes the funny part). As I was framing my shot, the passenger in the truck pointed toward me, said something to the driver, and the driver slowly got out of his truck and timidly made it about halfway across the road to take a picture too. From what we can tell, the two of them had been weighing the danger of such an action until they saw little old me just strut right out there. The sad thing is, the "timid" guy was at least twice my size!

Okay, here's where I have to say that you shouldn't be as stupid as me... You should respect the power and unpredictability of wild animals, no matter how docile they look. And stay in school... And don't do drugs... But with that said, Wow! Did I ever get some good pictures! In your face, guy who is bigger than me!

Also, at one point, we narrowly missed a close encounter with a bear, but that's for Chana to tell...

I guess that about wraps it up... We stopped in Banff for a bite to eat and then it was straight on home to our kids. It was such an awesome, fun-filled weekend that the following Monday I felt like I needed another weekend right away!

And that, my friends, is the sign of a good time.

Boiled Flower Garden, Anyone?

I swear to you, my office smells like someone boiled a flower garden and dumped the water all over my desk.

Today is my 49th day without caffeine and, as such, I have had to be a little more creative than usual with my choice of hot drinks. For a couple weeks, I drank chamomile or apple cinnamon herbal teas that I purchased from Tim Horton's. Not bad at first, but I was glad to finally see the end of those tea bags last week, I'll tell you! "Chamomile" is now my word for "completely lacking in excitement, flavour, or inspiration" and I'll happily stay away from anything with cinnamon in it for a while.

So, last night, as I was picking up a few groceries for the week, I stopped to see what other sorts of teas there might be. Of course, outside of Orange Pekoe or Earl Grey, I'm a complete noob when it comes to these things. Which meant that I just stood and stared at row after row of those little boxes and tins for what seemed like forever. My eyes eventually fell upon a selection of Green Teas and, Green Tea being something I'd never tried before, I chose a variety pack that included things like "Green Tea and Raspberry" or "Green Tea and Peach". Not the most manly sounding drinks, I'll admit, but worth a go.

The Raspberry was my first try this morning, right after I arrived at work. Not bad, I must admit. Definitely more bitter than any of the herbals I've been drinking lately and, for a guy who likes his coffee, a pleasant change. But the one I've just brewed now is a totally different story...

It's called "Green Tea and Jasmine Flowers". And, in case you're wondering, it takes about as good as it smells.

If this doesn't shatter my willpower to stay off caffeine as long as possible, nothing will!

Icefield / Jasper Weekend: Part 3

As I'm sure I've mentioned in the past, Chana has a real love for waterfalls. She loves to look at them, feel their mist on her face, and surround herself with the sound of the crashing water. I'm not kidding when I say she can sit and stare at a waterfall for hours! That's why every trip we take to Banff includes a stop at Bow Falls, one of her most favorite places on Earth.

Well, this little trip to Jasper provided us with the chance to visit a place that neither of us had been before... An awesome display of power and beauty known as Athabasca Falls.

The Athabasca Falls are located on the Athabasca River (who would have thought, eh?), which originates at the Athabasca Glacier. That's right, the very same glacier that we had the pleasure of standing on. That means the same microscopic particles that makes the ice of the glacier look so amazingly blue also gives the river a distinctively milky-green color. That is, until it plunges over the falls and is churned it to a frothy white...

Now, my previous experience with natural attractions such as these told me that the best picture-taking opportunities would be found off the beaten path. You know, sneak out onto a rock here for a better angle, jump a guard rail there for a unique vantage point... That sort of thing. It's always easier to find a more picturesque view than the Park planners originally envisioned.

But I was wrong this time.

The paths and lookout points laid out around the Athabasca Falls couldn't have been more perfect. All the amazing sights that people drive hundreds of kilometers to see are actually visible from a multitude of breath-taking angles. And, on top of that, little things that would normally go unnoticed, such as channels carved by the falls hundreds or thousands of years ago and then abandoned in favor of easier routes, were pointed out. It seemed that around every corner there was something new to discover, turning a mere trip to the falls into a mini-adventure.

One of Chana's favorite spots had to be this little lookout on the south side of the falls. It was so near to the thundering water that mist fell like a heavy rain and drenched her within seconds. Despite the freezing glacier water, she laughed and screamed like a little school girl, trying to coax me over to "share the experience". Even though she called me a "chicken", I preferred to stay dry and take pictures from a distance.

Just when we though we'd seen it all, we discovered another path that seemed to lead away from the falls. In fact, it led right into the middle of one of those abandoned channels I mentioned, and ultimately ended where the water left the falls, widened, slowed, and continued its journey through the valley. It was an awesome sight! And it was here, too, that you could see the mark of Man and the influence of abundant tourism. Yet, unlike so many attraction that are spoiled by graffiti and litter, here, where the water was shallow and the jagged rocks plentiful, people had erected dozens of inukshuks, giving the place an almost mystical feel.

I'm glad we found that path.

After returning to Jasper from the falls, we spent the rest of the day exploring the little stores and shopping for souvenirs for our kids. In the evening, we treated ourselves to a viewing of The Da Vinci Code in the town's tiny little theatre. Although the movie was less impressive than I had expected (maybe I'll get into that another time, but not now), the theatre itself took me back to a time in my childhood before the giant Megaplexes that dominate our city now. It was nice.

And so ended our stay in Jasper. Next, the journey home.

Icefield / Jasper Weekend: Part 2

After leaving the Icefield Centre behind, Chana and I had about an hour's drive ahead of us before we'd reach our next stop... Jasper. Now, if I had been driving this leg of the trip, I'm sure we would have made it in less time than that because my foot tends to be a bit heavy and I rarely stop for any of the sightseeing attractions along the way. In my defense, these "attractions" are usually just plaques telling the story of how a particular mountain got its name, or marking the location where some long-dead pioneer made a mineralogical discovery... Interesting, but not worth losing valuable driving time over.

Fortunately, though, I wasn't driving as we made our way north. We had only been driving about 10 minutes when I felt the van slow down and Chana said, "I'm stopping". Before I could protest, I looked out my window and saw an absolutely amazing series of waterfalls that ended right at the side of the road. There was no plaque to tell us the name (if they even had one), but the Park officials had been wise enough to provide a bit of space for vehicles to pull over.

A few other people had also parked and were taking pictures of each other in front of the cascading water, or climbing up to explore the higher portions of the falls. The highway isn't a very busy one, though, so it wasn't crowded. We had no trouble getting a lot of great shots. I even managed to make my way up to the base of the first fall and found that some of it was still frozen... The sight and smells were amazing!

Eventually, we got back in the van and continued on our way. We were both feeling so good about our trip up to that point and commented to each other about how perfect the weekend was turning out. Too bad it wouldn't last...

When we arrived in Jasper, things took a turn for the worse. Chana had never been there before, and I hadn't been in the little mountain town in 14 years, so we had no idea where we should start looking for a place to stay. A quick drive around town (which only takes 10 minutes, driving slowly) only showed us an abundance of "No Vacancy" signs on each and every hotel, motel, or chalet. Not exactly an encouragement. But Chana, as usual, was the calm one, and she pulled out a pamphlet she had wisely picked up at the Icefields Centre that had all the phone numbers of the accommodations in Jasper.

Long story short, a half an hour and a dead cell phone later, we knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that everything was booked for the night. Not that it mattered too much... We also found out that the average rate for one night at a hotel in Jasper is between $250 and $350! Definitely not what we had expected and certainly not what we had budgeted for! As I began to rant and rave about how I would never return to Jasper, Chana began driving around town again, looking for some sort of inspiration, I guess.

And you know what? She found it.

Many of the homes we drove past had little "Approved Accommodation" signs on them. Now, I'm familiar with the idea of a "Bed & Breakfast", but I really don't like the idea of staying in someone else's home, sleeping down the hall from them, or having to sit down to a meal with a total stranger. But, Chana insisted that we had no choice but to give it a try or turn around and drive the 4 and a half hours back home. Faced with that kind of logic, I had to give in.

And I'm glad I did.

Most of the "Approved Accommodations" also had "No Vacancy" signs out, but we soon found one that didn't. Chana went up to the door (believe me, she's the great negotiator in this relationship) and knocked. It turned out that someone else had gotten there just ahead of us and was in the process of signing in, but the owner of the home explained that, even thought the population of the town was only 5000, there were over 200 Approved Accommodations to be found. And the beautiful thing was, the majority of them were not Bed & Breakfast style set-ups, but simply rooms done up to be exactly like a hotel suite, complete with cable TV, private washrooms, and separate entrances. Now that was something I could do!

We ended up spending 2 nights in Jasper, in 2 different places, and it only cost us a total of $140. That's a far cry from the $500 to $700 a hotel would have set us back! And the places we stayed in were easily as nice, if not nicer, than a hotel suite.

The weekend was saved!

Our first full day in town was Sunday, and we spent the early part of the day going up Whistler Mountain on the Tramway. Chana isn't exactly a fan of heights, but she was very brave on this trip and had her breath taken away by the beautiful view at the top. Of course, once we reached "the top", I realized it was still a fair hike if one wanted to reach the actual summit. No paved pathways or set of stairs here... Just a steep, gravelly path that twisted and turned up the side of the mountain. And, since we were above the treeline at this point, there was no vegetation larger than a tuft of grass to protect me from the biting wind as I climbed.

Chana stayed behind to explore the Gift Shop and eventually make friends with a nice lady from England as I trudged my way to the actual top of Whistler Mountain. I lost my breath a few times and my heart was beating like a jackhammer in the thin air, but I'm a stubborn sort and I'm proud to say that I made it. Of course, the wind has about 10 times worse up there, so I only stayed long enough to get a few pictures before making my way back down to Chana and a little bit of warmth.

Amazingly, that only brings us to about 10:30 in the morning, and the day had a few more adventures in store, but you'll just have to wait for the next post...