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.
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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!