Cuppojoe's Caffeinated Mind

With Regards to Manfred Mann

2012-01-11T14:08:00.000-07:00

There's something I've been meaning to rant about for quite some time. Sadly, I'm at an age now where, when this certain something occurs, I instinctively say to myself, "I'm going to rant about this!" but then forget about it completely once it passes. Well, for some strange reason, I was reminded of this certain something today while not experiencing it and while in the vicinity of my laptop.

Lucky you.

A couple years ago, the city I live in joined a growing movement to reduce "light pollution". As such, the majority of all street lights have now been changed to cast only a small amount of light directly downward, instead of spilling it frivolously in large pools. The effect is such that we no longer have to worry about about our sidewalks, pathways, and roads being safely illuminated. Instead, we can rest assured that the deep, penetrating darkness of night is only marred by near-illumination every hundred feet or so. The "light pollution" that so threatened us in the past is, well... a thing of the past.

Or is it?

Another trend of late is the ever-increasing brightness of car headlights. It would seem that automobile manufacturers have determined that safety is best provided by bathing an area 50 feet wide and 100 feet deep in front of the vehicle with a blue-white light of an intensity normally reserved for police helicopter spotlights. Headlights operating in the normal mode are now brighter than "hi-beams" used on highways and rural roads as recently as 15 years ago, allowing drivers to make out every crack in the asphalt, every blade of grass alongside the road, and every pore on the face of the oncoming driver.

Perhaps this shift is in response to the change in the street lights. Possibly, auto manufacturers are simply helping to compensate for the reduced lighting. Regardless, it is having another, far more negative, effect.

You see, the human eye is a marvel of evolution with its ability to adjust to different light levels by widening or constricting the opening of the pupil. In darkness, it dilates to allow more light to pass through to the retina. In bright situations it contracts, restricting the amount of light and preventing our optic nerve from being "over-loaded". Yet, as amazing as this organ is, it still has its limitations.

One of these limitations is never more obvious than when I am driving at night.

Our less-than-adequately-lit streets cause my pupils to dilate enough to allow me to see where I am driving. No problem so far. Let's add an oncoming Porsche SUV with high-intensity, broad-angle, halogen headlights and see what happens, though. Instantly my pupils contract and all I can see are the headlights. The rest of my world is a blackened void, into which I am driving at 50 km/hr, hoping the clear stretch of road I remember seeing before being blinded remains that way long enough for the SUV to pass and my sight to be restored.

Heaven help the black-clad jaywalking jogger that gets in my way.

In a by-gone era where the amount of light provided by street lights and headlights was not so vastly different, my eyes would never have had to make such radical adjustments and neither the safety of myself nor that of the fashion-conscious jogger would have been jeopardized. In that same by-gone era, however, we wouldn't have traded safely-lit streets for less "light pollution" (for which I will continue to use quotes until I'm convinced it's a real thing) and we wouldn't have believed that a car driving 50km/hr in the city requires headlights strong enough for one doing 110km/hr on a pitch-black highway.

But what did we know?

It Makes for a Long Night

2011-10-18T21:06:00.000-06:00

By and large, parenting is a pretty easy gig, if you ask me. Sure, the first few months are an evil experiment in sleep deprivation, potty training can test the patience of a Tibetan monk, and puberty turns your sweet, innocent offspring into something out of a Roman Polanski film, but the rest is a cake walk. True, there are exceptions, and it's these exceptions that keep it all so... interesting.

For example...

Quite possibly three of the most fearsome words any parent will have the misfortune of hearing their child utter are, "My head itches." For those without kids, that phrase probably carries no more power than, say, "The sky is blue" or, "I'm hungry". Any parent, however, who has heard their 5 year old son or daughter say it, is likely already experiencing an elevated heart rate and their own phantom scalp itches, just from reading it here. That's right, I'm talking about the most disruptive force from the smallest source...

Lice.

Although I'm a bit of a veteran in this area, having battled the micro-invaders twice before in the past 10 years of being a single father, I was still taken off-guard when my daughter complained of an itchy head last night, right before bed. I was optimistic, however, as I went to the bathroom to retrieve a comb, thinking she was probably just suffering from some minor dandruff now that the drier winter weather is upon us.

I could only be so lucky.

About 3 minutes into searching her scalp by running a comb through line after line of fine, blonde hair, I spotted the tiniest of black spots... and it was moving. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, or that it was a piece of dirt. A couple seconds of, "Hold still!" and holding my breath proved me wrong. Somehow, my daughter had contracted lice and I was about to enter the battlefield for a third time.

I wasted no time in getting to the pharmacist which, luckily, was still open. I asked the man in the crisp, white lab coat for a lice treatment kit I could use on a 12 year old girl, knowing that the stuff that works best is always kept behind the counter. He was quick to get me the product that, in his opinion, has the highest success rate (probably based on who returns to buy a second kit and who doesn't, I guess) and to give me a tip that was new to me.

You see, the normal procedure goes something like this: You wash and dry your child's hair. You apply the treatment, which is usually a creme rinse type solution that smells of chemicals. After the creme rinse has been in the hair for 10 minutes, you rinse it out and dry the hair. Then you settle in for a long session of hunting down dead (hopefully) lice and lice eggs (called nits) with a fine-toothed metal comb. It takes forever because you have to inspect every row of hair on your child's head, and the nits are attached to the hair with a sort of cement that makes them difficult to remove.

The pharmacist told me, though, to try something different before I started the store-bought treatment. He told me to soak my daughter's hair with a solution of 50% water and 50% white vinegar, to loosen the nits' bonds on the hair, remove as many lice and nits as I could with the metal comb, then wash and dry her hair in preparation for the treatment. I have to say, although going through her hair twice with the comb (once before treatment and once after) seemed to take longer, I think it actually worked better. Following the treatment, I only found a couple of dead lice nymphs in my daughter's hair, and they were super easy to remove.

However, we were far from finished.

The delousing took us until after midnight, at which point the rest of the work had to be done. Bedding, towels, clothes, and jackets all had to be collected and washed in hot water (four loads of laundry in all). Combs, brushes, and lice removal tools needed to be sterilized in boiling water. Stuffed animals, pillows, and whatever else couldn't be washed in hot water had to be put in a black garbage bags, where they will stay for the next three weeks to ensure any lice or nits that may have transferred are dead.

It's a stressful ordeal, to say the least. It is important, though, for every parent that finds themselves faced with this scenario to remember it is even more stressful for their child. The lice brings with it not only feelings of shame and embarrassment, but also a lot of unwarranted guilt. It is important to let your son or daughter know that getting lice doesn't mean they are "dirty", because it has nothing at all to do with hygiene, and that none of the work that goes into getting rid of the infestation is their fault.

It's all just a part of growing up and, subsequently, a part of helping someone grow up.

Still Judged

2011-09-29T09:02:00.002-06:00

Today I happened to find myself reading the blog of an exgirlfriend, which I found in the blogroll (who knew these still existed?) of another old friend's blog because Google Reader suddenly decided to serve up some updates from 2009. I only read the first few lines of her latest entry, which was from 2010, before my finger flicked the scroll wheel and my eyes scanned across numerous entries and photos, none of which inspired me to read further. That is, until...

I saw an entry that started, "I dated this guy in college..." Well, I couldn't exactly pass that one by, could I? It turns out, I probably should have.

I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that the entire blog post was about this boyfriend of hers that was unemployed, lazy, and basically made her realize all the things she didn't want in a husband. It was pretty disparaging, not at all forgiving or understanding... and totally about me.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I was somewhat lacking in direction when I was younger. In fact, I've used the term "lazy" myself when referring to the me from those days. I guess what really irked me was that someone (ironically, a Christian and former Bible College student) would carry around that image of me for 20 years and feel the need to base a blog post on it. Sure, I'm a different person now. Yes, it's true that it has been over 14 years since I was unemployed for even a single day. Of course I've been a responsible single father for the past 10 years, raising my 12 year old daughter without any financial assistance. Yet, it still stings to be thought of as that guy who liked to sleep in, skip classes, and play pool instead of going to work.

Next time Google Reader dishes out a serving from the past, I'm going to be a little quicker on the "Mark As Read" button.

Steamed

2008-06-09T14:07:00.003-06:00

Little by little, I realize that I am, indeed, getting older.

I recently celebrated my 37th birthday, but my realisation of the aging process comes not so much from events you can mark on a calendar. Instead, it's a collection of little observations that, taken individually, can be easily explained or overlooked. Put all of these "little observations" into the Big Picture, however, and the result is somewhat more depressing.

I do my best to stay young. Some might even say I'm childish or immature. Others may say that I'm trying to recapture my lost youth. Well, to those I say, "Pshhht!" I'm plenty grown-up, and you can't recapture something you haven't let go. Still, though my brain insists we are only 20-something, my body has begun to point out that 40-something isn't far away.

For instance...

I've always liked to play Frisbee. Most of all, I like jumping for high ones or diving for just-out-of-reach ones. There's nothing more satisfying than the look on someone's face as you magically snag out of mid-air a Frisbee that they were sure was going to send you running across the park. During coffee breaks at work, we used to go out in the back lot and toss a couple discs around. I'd always try for the catch, no matter how impossible it looked. I'd grab one skimming an inch off the pavement... I'd lunge and trap one just about to hit a wall... I'd jump over the guy in front of me to make sure I got the next one instead of him...

I can still try to do all of these things, but a recent trip to the park with an 11-year old has shown me that 180lbs does not achieve the same height or hang-time that 135lbs used to. Nor does it tend to stop very easily once urged into a lunging motion. Such maneuvers are now typically followed by a tumble in the grass and a 5-minute time-out for recovery.

Damn inertia.

And then there's food. I used to have an iron stomach and unbeatable metabolism. I could eat absolutely anything I wanted, without consequence. As an example, there was a time when I was counselling 9- to 12-year old boys at a summer camp, and I was challenged to a lasagna eating contest by another counsellor of, shall we say, greater corporeal girth. Well, as heavy as that pasta can be, I packed it away and kept pace with the big guy, bite for bite. In fact, about 1 full tray into the contest, it became obvious he was on the verge of throwing in the towel. So, he sent one of the young boys from his cabin to sabotage my lasagna with a big scoop of ice cream (the rest of the campers and counsellors had long since moved on to dessert). Nonplussed, I stirred the extra dairy into my meal and, by the time a tray and a half had been consumed between the two of us, I was declared the winner. The big guy moaned and groaned for the rest of the evening, but I was more than ready for hot chocolate and marshmallows at campfire time.

There's no way I could repeat that performance today. For starters, my relationship with dairy has taken a turn for the worse in recent years. We just don't seem to see eye-to-eye like we once did. Cramming that much cheese and ice cream down my throat now would either have me running for the nearest washroom equipped with an industrial-strength ventilation fan, or wishing that I was. It's a purge-or-bloat scenario, if you catch my drift.

Aside from that, I've also been introduced to this lovely phenomenon called heart burn. All I can say about that is, "WTF?!?" Apparently, the supposed one-way valve at the top of my stomach has become confused with the definition of "one-way". No longer does my stomach have a monopoly on all that wonderful acid some foods seem to produce. Now my esophagus gets to enjoy all that burning goodness too. Yay. It's especially fun when it happens in the middle of the night and my brain is too sleepy to differentiate between acid reflux and a heart attack.

Fun times.

There are lots of other physical manifestations of this thing called "aging": a 100-foot dash to catch a bus that feels like sprinting the last 100m up Mt. Everest... joints that tend to fuse solid if allowed to go unmoved for more than 10 minutes... a knee-cap that enjoys wandering around the general knee region without actually staying on the knee itself... muscles that spasm and cramp in places I didn't even know I had muscles...

The list goes on but the reality of it all hit home yesterday, not with a pain, or a burp, or the crack of a hip. It was something that just sort of snuck up on me...

We were at the wavepool last night with our kids, enjoying being out of the rain. The place we go to is pretty cool, too. The wavepool is shallow enough for the two younger girls, who aren't the strongest swimmers, to go without life jackets, there's a portion called "The River" where they run a current you can float in or swim against, lots of fun water toys for the little ones, and a nice big hot tub that never seems to have too many people in it. My favorites, though, are the steam room and dry sauna. Unlike at most facilities, these amenities are right beside the pool (as opposed to down the hall to the change rooms) so I don't have to abandon the kids just to enjoy a little heat.

Well, as I was contemplating going in the sauna last night, I noticed a couple of girls, probably no older than 13 or 14, going in and out, holding the door open, and letting all the heat out. I could actually watch the temperature drop on a digital thermometer outside the room. As I walked towards the sauna, one of them snaked past me with two flippers full of water from the hot tub and dashed it on the hot rocks. Great idea if this was a steam sauna, but totally forbidden by the facility because... well... it's not.

As they were about to run back for more water, I stopped one of them and said, "Hey! Can't you read? This is a dry sauna!" Then, jerking my thumb toward the foggy glass door not two feet away, I said, "If you're looking for the steam room, it's RIGHT THERE!!!"

Yep, I'm the cranky old guy at the public pool. It's all downhill from here, I'm afraid.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go yell at some kids on my lawn, Wil Wheaton-style.

Friday's Foto: Industrial

2008-06-06T10:54:00.001-06:00

The top of the Waterworks at Glenmore Dam.

Boring Childhood Stories: Farmhouse on Fire

2008-06-04T14:08:00.002-06:00

When I was 13, we lived on a farm. We weren't farmers, but we lived on a farm. To be exact, we lived in a house on a farm. We lived in a house on a one-acre portion of a 160-acre farm. The other 159 acres were rented to somebody else who used the land to raise cattle. So maybe we lived on a ranch. Anyway, since that "somebody" was only ever there to feed his cattle from time to time, we had the run of the whole place.

Now, don't be put off with the idea of living on a farm (or ranch). You're probably picturing something like endless flat fields of wheat, a big red barn, a couple grain silos, and broken down farm machinery. In short: Boring. Until I moved to ours, that's exactly how I envisioned a farm, too. Luckily for me, they aren't all like that.

What we called the Upper Pasture looked like typical farmland. For the most part, it was flat, bordered by barbed-wire fences and forest. Though it looked ideal for planting, there was nothing but wild grass growing for the cattle to graze on. A narrow, dusty gravel road snaked its way from the main gate to the house, sitting at the edge of a forested bluff overlooking the Lower Pasture. A second "road", really little more than two tire ruts in the grass, ran out from behind the house, skirted the bluff, and eventually made its way to the Lower Pasture.

The Lower Pasture was much more interesting and was where my brothers and I spent most of our time. Where the road wound down from our house, there was an old abandoned homestead and a swayback barn. These would have been a blast to explore and use as forts, but our parents warned us of a dangerous gas leak there that could kill us... and we were young enough to believe them.

The other way down was to follow the cattle trails through the forest and down the bluff. These ended at a flat plain of more wild grass, bordered by more forest, more fence, and the meandering Little Red Deer River. And smack-dab in the middle was an honest-to-goodness marsh. Amidst all that grass, here was a spot with low scrub-brush, mucky ground that would suck the boots right off your feet, and the remains of an old wooden hay wagon half-sunk into the earth.

As if this wasn't enough to keep three boys busy with exploring and make-believe, there was also "The Island".

As I said, the Little Red Deer River did a few twists and turns through the Lower Pasture. As it did so, it created "The Island", a few acres of land bordered by water on three sides and a neighboring farm on the fourth. The great thing about this little bit of land wasn't just that you could only get to it by wading in bare feet or jumping from stone to stone, it was "The Hill". That's right... "The Island" had "The Hill", a hill nearly as high as the bluff and the Upper Pasture. From here, we could look out over the entire Lower Pasture... homestead, barn, marsh, river, and all.

The real magic, however, happened in the winter when "The Hill" was transformed into "The Toboggan Hill"!

One sunny winter Saturday, our parents made the 3-hour round-trip into Calgary for groceries, taking my younger brother, Jeff, and baby sister, Crystal, with them. That left my other younger brother, Mike, and me to figure out what to do with the day. As I said, getting groceries was only a 3-hour venture, but my parents often took time to visit other family and friends when they "went to town", so we knew we'd be on our own for quite a while.

I can't say for sure, but in all likely-hood, we sat around in our underwear eating Corn Flakes and watching Saturday morning cartoons until noon. You see, up until puberty set in well and good, this was just a natural part of the weekly routine for us boys. Once the two-and-half channels we could get reception on started broadcasting sports and fishing shows, though, we would have been looking for something a little more entertaining. Sure, we had tons of dinky cars, loads of GI-Joe, and even a few Transformers, but what we really wanted to do was go tobogganing.

The two of us suited up in ugly parkas, mitts still damp from the day before, and running shoes (because we were too cool for boots) and made our way down the bluff, across the frozen river, and up "The Hill", toboggan in tow.

The snow was good and deep, I remember. The sun was out and it wasn't exactly warm, but not so cold that the snow was fluffy or crunchy. Instead, it was that perfect "packable" kind of snow that lets you carve trails on your first few runs down the hill that become like bobsled tracks your toboggan will follow faithfully forever after. I don't know how long we were out there, but the sun was still high in the sky when we got the fright of our lives.

Although we could see the entire Lower Pasture from "The Hill", the Upper Pasture and, subsequently, our house, was obscured by the line of trees at the top of the bluff. Those trees weren't nearly tall enough, though, to hide the thick, black smoke billowing from the exact spot we knew our house to be.

Had I used the stove that morning? Was I doing any ironing before we left? Had Mom left her blow dryer on and had it somehow slipped off the counter and into a pile of damp towels left behind after being used to mop up the water that overflowed the tub when my step-father fell asleep in the bath the night before, sparking into a smoldering fire that grew into an all-consuming blaze? These and other equally-improbable thoughts flashed through my mind before being replaced by, "FIRE!!!"

We dropped the sled and took off at top speed for the house, half-tumbling down the hill, skidding across the ice, and scrambling blindly up the cattle trail. The entire way, images of everything I owned going up in flames flashed before my eyes. The thought of my parents coming home to find us standing beside the smoking ruins of what was once our home was too much to bear.

The smoke was thicker and blacker than ever.

All of a sudden, Mike called out breathlessly, "Oh no! Boots!" Boots was our cat. Clearly, Mike was also contemplating losing everything dear to him, and the family pet was at the top of the list. I learned later that all Mike could picture as we raced to the house was that little cat, surrounded by flames, hurling himself through the fire and smashing out through the glass of the sliding French Doors on the balcony. Years later, an incident involving myself running full-tilt into a similar set of sliding French Doors would sink, once and for all, the notion of Boots saving himself this way, but that's another story.

As we broke from the trees at the top of the bluff, the house came into full view. No flames poured from the windows or lept from the rooftop. In fact, there were no flames to be seen at all. And there was an eerie silence, not the snap, crackle, pop of a house ablaze. Still, thick, black smoke continued to billow into the sky. From our new vantage point, however, it was obviously coming from the other side of the building. The garage?

I held apart 2 strands of the barbed wire fence for my brother, then hastily climbed through myself. My mind was numb at this point, completely incapable of understanding what was going on. But, as we rounded the corner of the house, it all become clear in a flood of relief and spent adrenaline.

There, in the driveway, stood my step-father, back from town far early than expected. In his hand was a stick which he was using to poke and prod a pile of burning tires. Although this Indian Smoke Signal approach was an effective way of calling us in to put away groceries, I can't help but think there must have been another way that was easier on the environment... not to mention our hearts!

Friday's Foto: Flare

2008-05-30T08:42:00.002-06:00

Taken on a photowalk from my house to Nose Hill Park and back.

A shot into the afternoon sun.

Bunged Up

2008-05-29T15:01:00.002-06:00

It has been brought to my attention that I don't write enough. And it's true... A dehydrated fat man subsisting on a diet of cheese and codeine is more regular than this blog.

You just pictured that, didn't you? Come on, if I can take the time to think it up, the least you can do is visualize...

Well, I'm putting on a pot of strong coffee and we're gonna get this thing flowing again, all right?

Oh, and you can stop visualizing now.

Rubik's Revenge is Right

2008-05-01T12:53:00.004-06:00

As a thank you for helping them out with a small computer problem, my girlfriend's parents insisted on thanking me with a present, despite my protests to the contrary. However, I was very pleasantly surprised to see that they had managed to track down a Rubik's Revenge Cube. I've been looking all over town for one, only to be told that they are sold out.

Okay, time for a little back story...

I've been obsessed with the Rubik's Cube since the summer after 8th grade. For hours and hours I studied a How to Solve the Rubik's Cube paperback, committing to memory the multitude of color combinations, twists, and turns that ultimately make up a very monotonous formula for solving the Cube. Now, more than 20 years later, I can still actually "solve" a scrambled Rubik's Cube in under 3 minutes almost every time.

So...

My daughter got a 2x2x2 Pocket Cube in her stocking from Santa this past Christmas. I don't know what the jolly old elf was thinking, though... He should have put it in mine because I'm the one always playing with it! It didn't take me long to discover that the original formula I had memorized (with a few minor modifications) was all I needed to solve the smaller cousin. Well! That got me thinking... How hard could the 4x4x4 Rubik's Revenge be?

I may never know the answer to that question. Although no less than 18 hours ago I became the proud owner of a Rubik's Revenge Cube, no less than 30 minutes ago said cube became little more than a pile of useless plastic pieces.

Those of you who know me (maybe a little too well) have probably already jumped to the conclusion that I became easily frustrated by this new puzzle and flung it at a wall. A pretty fair guess, considering a similar incident with Rubik's Magic back in the early 90's. But that's another story. No, this one can't be blamed on my immaturity or lack of patience.

It turns out that 24 of the 56 moving pieces on a Rubik's Revenge Cube are only held in place by a piece of plastic about 1mm thick. It also turns out that turning the portions of the cube containing these pieces with any more force than what is absolutely necessary to overcome friction and inertia can cause this incredibly thin piece of brittle plastic to break, resulting in the rapid disintegration from cube to the aforementioned pile of useless plastic pieces.

The first thing I did was swear. The second thing I did was swear again. The third thing I did was to see if I could glue the broken piece and reassemble the puzzle. Yes, it can be glued. No, it can't be put back together the way the original 3x3x3 Rubik's Cube could. So, with gluing not an option, I went to Google.

I'd say it's a bad sign that it took me all of 12 seconds to discover that I'm not the first person to uncover this design flaw.

So, I guess we'll have to see if this puzzle can be returned, which I honestly have mixed feelings about. On the one hand, I don't want my girlfriend's parents to be out the money, but I also don't want to be the guy that says, "Hey, thanks for the present. By the way, it's junk."

Maybe, after all those years of mocking Rubik by making his puzzle look like child's play, this is just his way of getting back at me from beyond the grave.

Yeah...

That, or a little phenomenon I like call "Made in China".

'Nuff said.

The Greed Consumes

2008-03-27T15:30:00.002-06:00

It's a plain and simple fact that Microsoft is here to stay. No matter what the Linux-Heads and MAC-Daddies of the world say, Good Ol' Bill has secured his company's presence in our marketplace for a long time to come. Whether through better innovation, clever marketing, or sheer dollar-power, Microsoft has stood its ground against all comers so far.

Something tells me that's about to change...

It's no secret that Microsoft has been eyeing a piece of the Web 2.0 pie currently dominated by Google, the Little-Search-Engine-That-Could. And why not? The "Do No Evil" start up has not only made a name for itself with quicker, more relevant search results, but they are rapidly becoming an integrated part of life for anyone who spends any amount of time online. Be it blogging with Blogger, sharing photos with Picasa, surfing videos on Google Video and YouTube, or emailing friends and family gargantuan attachments with Gmail, we're all skinny-dipping in the Google-Pond or, at the very least, dipping our feet in to test the waters. Why wouldn't Microsoft want to join in the fun?

Traditionally, Mr. Gates' response to the Google-Pond (if I'm allowed to extend the analogy just a bit too far), would be to build an overly complicated and outrageously expensive Sports-Plex, complete with wavepool and waterslides. Of course, there would be no less than 12 checkpoints to pass on the way in (just to make sure you're authorized to be there and really want to use the hot tub), the pools would spontaneously drain at random times for no reason whatsoever, and lifeguards would only be added to the staff after a sufficient number of drownings proved their necessity.

And there you'd have it: The Leisure Center del Vista.

But, not unlike getting a Blue Screen of Death right after applying the latest Windows Updates, Microsoft doesn't always do things the way we expect them to. Such is the case with the news yesterday that the software giant is planning to go head-to-head with Google in the free apps arena with a project code-named "Albany". You can read the PCWorld article here: http://www.pcworld.com/article/id,143873/article.html

Aside from the fact that I feel Microsoft is like a teenage girl who has taken too long to decide on a dress for the Prom and is now rushing off, late to the dance, with her garters unfastened, hoping to snag some poor desperate boy before the night is over, I see a couple of problems with this approach.

For starters, Microsoft has a penchant for re-inventing the wheel. Granted, they've come up with some pretty astounding advances in home and business computing because of this habit, but it's no way to play catch-up. Google's headstart can be credited as much to their acquisition of smaller start-ups who have already put in the hours and hours of R&D, beta testing, and quality assurance for their Web 2.0 services as it can to their foresight and vision. If Microsoft wants to have any chance of narrowing the gap, they can't waste time by sending their team back to the drawing board. Perhaps I am as mistaken about this as I would have been about the wavepool analogy... so we'll have to wait and see.

Another stumbling block that I'm sure Microsoft is bound to stub its multi-billion dollar toe on is its reputation... good or bad.

On the one hand, there are going to be users out there who will adamantly avoid these services, free or not, based purely on the Microsoft brand and the flying Window logo. Is this fair? No. Is it rational? Certainly not. Is it inevitable. Yup. Brand-power is a double-edged sword and it's next to impossible to win back people you have disappointed in the past. It's going to take more than a flamboyant stage appearance by Steve Ballmer and clever use of a Golden Oldie by The Stones, Tom Cochrane, or Van Halen to sway the nay-sayers this time around.

On the other hand, you're going to have die-hard fans of Microsoft's apps who just can't wait to take the Web 2.0 plunge. I'm thinking specifically of Microsoft Office users. Let's face it, when it comes to productivity software, Office is the be all and end all... so far. Sure, there are plenty of less-expensive alternatives out there (OpenOffice, Google Docs, et al) but, for the serious user, nothing beats the raw power that Microsoft has put into its industry-leading products. But will this same power make the cut when Microsoft trims the fat for the online environment? Sadly, I don't think it will. We've already seen the inferiority of Mobile Office in comparison to it's desktop predecessor, why should we believe a web-based version will be any better? Heck, it will likely be worse!

In the end, Microsoft is obviously committed now and my mere arguments aren't enough to even give a programming supervisor holed up in a basement lab somewhere on the Redmond compound pause, let alone stop the wheels of the massive machine from rolling forward. It won't be long before "Albany" gets released under a name-way-less-cool-name-than-its-codename and we'll see the results of Microsoft's efforts.

Just Google it.

Our Maiden Voyage

2008-01-17T10:27:00.000-07:00

I finally got out to the mountains last Sunday with that special someone for our very first road trip ever. It was just for the day, but we had a great time.

Surprisingly, she had never seen Bow Falls... I didn't think that was even POSSIBLE for a native Calgarian!

I fully intended to take a ton of pictures, like I usually do, but somehow only came home with 7 or so decent shots. I guess I was too busy enjoying the real world to put a camera between me and it.

2008-01-08T05:56:00.000-07:00

And I thought I had a good eye...

A Nightmare Indeed

2007-12-04T21:05:00.000-07:00

In retrospect, it has been a nightmare... but I'm awake now.

Cancer Sucks

2007-11-20T09:44:00.000-07:00

Do I have your attention now? Good.

There's a story I want you to read. And please, don't just skim through it. This is a real story, and one that deserves your time, if anything on the Internet does.

It's the story of Crystal, a new Mom who has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I know many of you have either received the same devastating news or watched a close friend or family member suffer through this horrible disease. If you haven't, count your blessings.

This is Crystal's story.

Now, if you read the front page of Crystal's site, you will have noticed that, in addition to accepting donations for support, Crystal and her husband Tony have also been selected as one of 10 finalist couples to receive a $50,000 Dream Baby Shower from Vibe 98.5, a local Calgary radio station. If you'd like to vote for them, you can do so by following this link: http://www.vibe985.com/node/623721

I know that I usually use this blog for humor, occasionally to rant, and often to point out the blatant absurdities of our day-to-day world, but I just had to pass this story on.

I hope it touches you as much as it has touched me.

It's All About Timing

2007-10-30T13:10:00.000-06:00

Now, it's no secret that the job I do allows for a little bit of "free time". And, because my job requires me to be on the Internet, that "free time" usually translates into reading blogs and watching videos on YouTube. In fact, on days when it's really slow, there's more YouTube than work...

So, the other day my boss came walking into the warehouse. As he approached, I asked, "Hey, did you get a chance to watch that clip I sent you?"

Without answering my question, he handed me a scrap of newspaper and said, "I have no idea why I thought of you when I read this", then walked away.

I looked down at the paper in my hand and saw this: http://www.dilbert.com/comics/dilbert/archive/dilbert-20071019.html

D'Oh!

Something Wicked This Way Comes

2007-10-28T20:55:00.000-06:00

This year marks a turning point in my daughter's life. She's only 8 years old, but I'm afraid my little girl is transforming before my very eyes.

Until now, she has been all about Barbie's and cuddly stuffed animals, playing with dolls and drawing pictures of flowers and butterflies. And, when it came to Halloween, it was all unicorns, chubby elephants, and princesses.

Not so anymore.

Okay, her bedroom floor is still absolutely littered with girly girl toys, and she still likes to paint girly girl pictures with her art set. But this Halloween is going to see her take a full 180.

Since I'm the only one in the family to not have a boy, I never imagined that I'd be out shopping for a black cape, fangs, and fake blood. That's right... My little blondie will be going door-to-door this year as a vampire. Sure, she'll be a girl vampire, but she'll be a little blood-sucking, bat-loving, cape-flourishing vampire none the less.

I can only hope this is a Halloween thing... I don't think I could handle being the father of the Littlest Goth in Elementary...

Why?

2007-02-07T12:21:00.000-07:00

NYC Gadget Ban

Coming soon: $250 fine for running with scissors.

What Ever Happened To...?

2007-02-04T15:15:00.000-07:00

I've been told there are people who wonder what's become of me. The ever-growing comments on my previous post seem to support this statement, at least in part. It's been suggested that I break my silence, if only long enough to let you know where I've been, what I've been doing, where I'm heading.

Well, here I am.

Truthfully, I never went anywhere. I've always been right here. I just haven't been there, you know? Out there amongst the rest of you, sharing your daily thoughts, hopes, dreams, and laughs. Instead, I've been off in my own little world, letting my creative urges express themselves in a different way.

Have a look: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cuppojoe_trips/

Right now, I feel a drive to explore my world through photos, rather than words. Right now, I'm at a loss for words... at least, ones that can make me feel like I'm really doing something, you know?

Don't worry. The blog will stay, and I know I'll be back to it. It won't be tomorrow, and at may not be next week, either. But, if I know anything about myself, I know that the part of my brain that aches to create will not let me stay away for long.

She Lost It... Literally

2006-11-10T19:21:00.000-07:00

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

2006-11-09T19:43:00.000-07:00

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

2006-11-08T06:53:00.000-07:00

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...?

2006-10-17T12:39:00.000-06:00

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

2006-10-05T06:42:00.000-06:00

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

2006-10-01T22:30:00.000-06:00

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

2006-09-28T06:02:00.000-06:00

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!

2006-09-19T21:45:00.000-06:00

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

2006-09-14T20:42:00.000-06:00

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

2006-09-07T03:21:00.000-06:00

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

2006-09-06T12:36:00.000-06:00

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

2006-09-05T07:02:00.000-06:00

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

2006-09-04T09:31:00.000-06:00

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

2006-08-30T10:44:00.000-06:00

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!

2006-08-06T16:48:00.000-06:00

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!

2006-08-05T17:47:00.000-06:00

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

2006-08-02T20:40:00.000-06:00

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

2006-07-29T12:26:00.000-06:00

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

2006-07-26T21:31:00.000-06:00

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

2006-07-25T21:30:00.000-06:00

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

2006-07-23T01:00:00.000-06:00

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?

2006-07-19T20:49:00.000-06:00

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

2006-07-17T18:04:00.000-06:00

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

2006-06-22T19:40:00.000-06:00

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

2006-06-20T05:49:00.000-06:00

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!

2006-06-18T22:00:00.000-06:00

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

2006-06-18T09:05:00.000-06:00

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

2006-06-16T21:58:00.000-06:00

A sight for stranded eyes.
Posted by Picasa

Ooo! That's Gonna Leave a Mark!

2006-06-14T12:26:00.000-06:00

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!

2006-06-13T19:46:00.000-06:00

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

2006-06-12T07:16:00.000-06:00

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

2006-06-06T12:06:00.000-06:00

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")

2006-05-30T00:03:00.000-06:00

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?

2006-05-29T15:09:00.000-06:00

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

2006-05-29T00:37:00.000-06:00

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

2006-05-28T00:14:00.000-06:00

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...

Icefield / Jasper Weekend: Part 1

2006-05-27T14:06:00.000-06:00

Whenever Chana and I go away, whether it be for the day, a weekend, or a full holiday, there's one thing you can always count on: There will be pictures. In fact, there will be lots of pictures. I've become something of a shutter-bug over the last couple of years and, I have to admit, I usually spend a large portion of any outing with my camera in front of my face.

On our most recent getaway, Chana and I managed to snap over 500 pictures in 3 days! Of course, as can be expected in this era of digital cameras, many of those shots are the "errors" in the "trial and error" method of photography. Still, we ended up with plenty of fascinating pictures (in my opinion) that will help us preserve the awesome memories of the trip for years to come.

Now, I not only struggled with summoning the ambition to get some of these pictures ready for the web, but also how to show them off without either uploading them all to Google or overloading my own personal webspace. I wanted to post them in a way that would allow you go see them anytime you want, no matter how far into the archives this particular blog post recedes. After much thought, I settled on setting up a Flickr account separate from the one I use for my "Photo of the Week" pictures. Since Chana and I tend to leave the city any chance we get, I'll use this account strictly for posting pictures from these little trips.

This first set of snapshots was taken during our stay at the Icefields Chalet. Clicking on any one of them will take you to the Flickr page for that photo. There you can find a description of the picture, and even see it full size for maximum effect. If you'd like to see the whole set from this "Icefield/Jasper Trip", click here. There are only 7 pictures so far, but more will be added following future blog posts. To do it all at once would not only be tiring for me, but probably a bit of an overload for you as well.

Pretty considerate guy, aren't I?

Anyway, I can only hope you enjoy looking at these photos half as much as we had taking them...

Wait for It...

2006-05-25T12:21:00.000-06:00

Looking for some cool pictures of the glacier we visited? Chana sent you, didn't she? Well, my apologies, because I've been way too busy to deal with the ton of snapshots I collected last weekend... And by "busy", of course, I mean watching Ask a Ninja clips and laughing my ass off!

So, while I'm waiting for my new butt-implants to arrive from eBay, I'll see if I can't get a couple of pictures edited and worthy of Chana's claims of excellence... But not tonight. Tonight a friend and I are going to see Disturbed! Let the ear-bleeding begin!

In the meantime, I'd suggest you check out the Ninja. His wisdom is quick and deadly...

I look forward to writing a real post for you... real soon! HYAH!

In Search of a Sunrise

2006-05-15T20:56:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, on a weekend when my daughter was away visiting her Mom, I happened to get up nice and early and go out for a stroll. Luckily, I live quite close to one of the most amazing locations in our city... Nose Hill Park.

If you check out that link, you'll see that it holds the record as Canada's largest municipal park and measures a whopping 2784 acres! Now that's a park!

Anyway, as I was saying, I went for an early morning walk, camera in hand, and headed for Nose Hill. At first, I was just going to walk up the east side of the hill to see if I could get some good sunrise shots. Unfortunately, facing east meant I was facing the flattest, most unattractive part of Calgary. So, I walked a little farther into the park.

Before long, it was easy to forget that I was in the middle of a city. I was surrounded by nothing but wintry scrub grass, leafless trees, and silence. I guess it was early enough that the growl of traffic hadn't grown loud enough to penetrate the solitude of the park. I was smack-dab in the middle of one of the most peaceful walks I'd ever been on.

It occurred to me that I might get a good photo of the morning sun shining off the Rocky Mountains. The only problem there was the fact that the mountains weren't visible from where I was. I'd have to walk across to the west side.

Did I mention how big Nose Hill is?

One pond, three ducks, and four dog-walkers later, I arrived at a place that gave me a magnificent view of the west side of Calgary, complete with the majestic Rockies as a backdrop.

This is a 170-degree panorama of what I saw that morning. Those of you who remember the '88 Olympics should have little trouble locating the ski jumps at Canada Olympic Park...

Revelation: Part Two

2006-05-09T20:35:00.000-06:00

It's true. No coffee. 29 days. And counting.

April 10 was the last time I had a cup of coffee. In fact, it was the last time I had any form of caffeine. That's right... No cola, no tea, and no chocolate either. Can you believe it? Do you know how hard it is to have 6 kids in the house at Easter and not eat chocolate? Torture!

Now, those who know me might be considering stocking up on water and non-perishables as this has generally been thought to be one of the signs of the Apocalypse. But you might want to read on before you max out your Home Depot card on building supplies for your bomb shelter...

As Chana quite correctly pointed out to me, I've done this little "decaffeinated" routine before... It was 2 years ago, almost to the day, that I started an impromptu "Caffeine De-Tox Program" which lasted a whole 30 days. You can read about it here, here, here, and here. The reasons are the same this time around and, as with last time, I will definitely be going back to drinking coffee sometime in the near future. For now, however, I'm curious to see how long this will last. Now that the physical addiction has been broken (the headaches were a killer!) and the habit of always having a coffee cup in my hand is almost gone, I'm sure I'll be able to go as long as I choose.

We'll see.

So, the name of the blog will stay the same... The caffeine may have left my bloodstream, but I can assure you it hasn't left my mind! And when I do decide to sip from the blessed chalice of java once again, I want my first one to be memorable, so be prepared with some good suggestions, okay?

Revelation: Part One

2006-05-08T10:23:00.000-06:00

The codes have been cracked! The puzzles are solved! And, most importantly, the secret has been discovered! All that remains is to reveal it to the rest of you...

Wudrich emailed me early Friday morning with his very analytical breakdown of all the clues given, summarizing with an accurate deduction as to the nature of my clean little secret. I'm quite happy that he did, too, because the next puzzle would have involved me breaking into the Louvre and defacing some highly prized works of art and I was beginning to get cold feet about the whole thing!

Unfortunately, a busy weekend prevented me from posting this any sooner... But better late than never, right? So, without further ado, here is Wudrich's email, word-for-word:

Everything in quotes is direct from your page

"I have a secret." - Not anymore.

"It's not a dirty little secret. True, it is a relatively small one, but quite clean, really." - Depends on which part you talk about. That filter is questionable.

"Some people already know my secret, but I've been lying to the rest of you for 16 days now." - here is where it gets interesting.

"For the first few days, my secret was nothing but one big headache... First there was the dull throbbing in my forehead, followed by tension around my temples. Before long, it was the sharp, stabbing pain behind my left eye that I've come to know as a "cluster migraine"." - also known as Caffeine withdrawl

"... I still can't seem to get it off my mind. I get up in the morning, shower, dress, and start thinking about my secret." - What else do you think of after doing those things.

"... friendship began when I was 16 years old... (...if I'm not mistaken, over breakfast) that a long-lasting relationship was forged." - Or perhaps Folgered?

"... in High School, I really only saw my friend on weekends. In college, we were practically inseparable. When I was unemployed, we got together a lot less frequently." - obviously the last due to lack of funds.

"... I've become more of a "home body", put on some much-needed weight, (I'd say) and become a Dad. My friend hasn't really done anything dramatic, per se, but has definitely become a lot less complicated than when we met. In fact, I think some of the very things that I found most appealing originally are completely gone now. Yet the friendship remains because I can appreciate this friend for what they really are when everything else is stripped away." - hmmm some body went black and didn't go back.

"Lately, though, I've been thinking that maybe we hang out together too much." - oh addiction, is there anything better

"I've recently found myself feeling kind of "needy" toward my friend, and I don't want to be that person." - Isn't admitting it the first step?

"So, I decided to "take a break" " - step two

In conclusion Dr. Watson the black liquid in the large cup is the culprit. Hopefully going on 25 days now you have quit the coffee habit and are no longer a caffeinated mind, well maybe not completely. You never know how long it takes for its affects to wear off and those cola products can offer a substitute. Well, I say congratulations if I am right or "wwwhhhaaaaatttt????" if I am wrong. Either way I can't wait for more clues.

Well, since the secret is out, there won't be any more clues. However, there are more details to follow... I promise...

Stay tuned...

Clue #2: A Poem

2006-05-02T18:24:00.000-06:00

Making You Work For It

2006-05-01T12:52:00.000-06:00

In light of all the hype surrounding Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code" and the ever-approaching release date of the movie by the same name, I've decided to play a bit of a game along those lines...

For those of you who haven't read the book, it involves a series of ever-more-complicated codes and ciphers that lend clues to the ultimate puzzle of the location of the Holy Grail (there's more to it than that, like religious zealots try to reveal supposed Church cover-ups, but you get the picture).

Now, about my game...

As most of you probably know, I have a clean little secret. Well, what better way to reveal said secret than by letting you figure it out for yourself? You see, this way, you get to have a bit of fun and I get to keep my secret a little longer. The fact that it's a cheap way to get some easy blog mileage is irrelevant...

Hidden in my next few blog entries, then, will be puzzles or codes that will lead you to a series of clues. These clues can then be used to figure out what I've been keeping under my hat for 21 days now.

You may discuss within the comments, if you wish, and I will acknowledge the first reader to properly decipher each clue. Once all the clues have been given, though, I would encourage you to email me with your answers, just so you don't accidentally give it away to someone else (how many times have you seen that happen on Wheel of Fortune?).

Will there be a prize for figuring out the secret? Good question! Right now, I don't know... But you'll be the first to know when I find out!

So, sharpen your wits, get your pencils and Ovaltine Decoder Rings ready, and see who among you will be the first to uncover Cuppojoe's Clean Little Secret.

(Certain individuals are exempt, as you already know the secret... You know who you are.)

And a Jam-Packed 3 Years It's Been!

2006-04-29T23:12:00.000-06:00

I'd like to start by saying that I'm not your typical male and I didn't miss my anniversary with Chana. In fact, I had this really creative idea for a blog post to celebrate "our day", but ran out of time to pull it off before going out to dinner with her. Does it count that I told her all about what could have been? Well, it counted in her books, and she encouraged me to go ahead and do it anyway. But, since the whole idea was to surprise her, I think the moment has passed. Instead, I figured I'd do a "Day One of Our Fourth Year Together" post.

Here we go.

I can believe that we've only just passed the 3 year mark... It feels like a lot longer than that... and I mean that in a good way. With everything that has happened since we met, all the places we've gone, all the memories we've made together, it feels more like we've been a couple for a decade! Never before in my life have I ever had so much fun as I've had since I met Chana! In the short time I've had the priviledge of calling her my girlfriend we have:

Spent a weekend in Radium... Her very first trip to British Columbia.
Driven 7 and a half hours to Kelowna and had our caricatures drawn in the park.
Spent a romantic weekend in a Polynesian Fantasy Room at the Fantasyland Hotel in West Edmonton Mall.
Watched our kids play together in Sylvan Lake while spending a weekend in a cottage.
Made countless trips to the mountains and Banff National Park so she could visit her favorite waterfall.
Watched Killer Whales swim within a few feet of our boat off the San Juan Islands.
Marveled at genuine Egyptian artifacts at the Royal British Columbia Museum.
Taken pictures of our feet in almost every place we've visited together.
Hunted down 2 street signs: Chandler St. and Bing Ave. ("Friends" fans will get it...)
Had our portraits drawn in Stanley Park.
Tried (unsuccessfully) to get good pictures at every one of our kids' school concerts.
Collected many turtles (her) and chess boards (me).
Worked through her near-blindness following laser eye surgery.
Walked along the main streets of little towns near our city, just for the sake of doing it.
Left the house at 4:30 in the morning on a weekend, just to go see a sunrise in the country.
Used binoculars to find our neighborhoods from high atop the Calgary Tower.
Introduced me to platanos fritos... Yum!
Shown her every house I lived in as a child (and there are 16, spread across 3 cities and 2 provinces!).
Spent 3 magical Christmas' together with our 6 kids.

That is by no means the entire list, because there's just no room or time for it all! But I think it gives you a good idea just how awesome the last 3 years have been for us!

In all, it's a great feeling to have finally found someone that I can truly call a "companion"... Someone I can share life with (ups and downs) and never get tired of doing it. I can't wait to see what kind of memories we make in the next three years!

I love you, Chana.

I Have This Friend...

2006-04-27T18:47:00.000-06:00

One of my greatest friendships began when I was 16 years old. This friend wasn't exactly "new" to me, but it wasn't until my uncle formally introduced us (it was a Saturday morning, if I'm not mistaken, over breakfast) that a long-lasting relationship was forged.

While I was in High School, I really only saw my friend on weekends. In college, we were practically inseparable. When I was unemployed, we got together a lot less frequently. Ever since I became a "productive member of society", though, I've seen my friend almost everyday.

As with most friends, we've both changed a lot over the years... I've become more of a "home body", put on some much-needed weight, and become a Dad. My friend hasn't really done anything dramatic, per se, but has definitely become a lot less complicated than when we met. In fact, I think some of the very things that I found most appealing originally are completely gone now. Yet the friendship remains because I can appreciate this friend for what they really are when everything else is stripped away.

Lately, though, I've been thinking that maybe we hang out together too much. Maybe I see more of this friend than is actually healthy. Maybe I should think about making some new friendships. It's not that I don't like my friend anymore... far from it, in fact... But sometimes you just need a little space. You know?

I've recently found myself feeling kind of "needy" toward my friend, and I don't want to be that person. I don't want to give the impression that we have to hang out. I'd rather just go back to the casual friendship we started out in. So, I decided to "take a break" from my friend for a while and see what happens.

Oh, and by the way, did I mention that this friend plays a pivotal role in my clean little secret? I can't end the post without dropping that clue, now can I?

Shhh...

2006-04-26T17:53:00.000-06:00

I have a secret.

It's not a dirty little secret. True, it is a relatively small one, but quite clean, really. Come to think of it, I'd say this particular secret could nearly be marketed as "Mountain Fresh" were it a detergent of some sort. But it's not soap, just a secret.

I have a clean little secret.

Some people already know my secret, but I've been lying to the rest of you for 16 days now. For over two weeks I have been aware that most of you are living under a false impression, and I've done nothing to correct the situation. So, since omission of the truth is still a lie, I am a liar.

I'm a liar with a clean little secret.

For the first few days, my secret was nothing but one big headache... First there was the dull throbbing in my forehead, followed by tension around my temples. Before long, it was the sharp, stabbing pain behind my left eye that I've come to know as a "cluster migraine".

Nasty.

My secret is no longer painful to me, but I still can't seem to get it off my mind. I get up in the morning, shower, dress, and start thinking about my secret. I go to work, sit down at my desk, and the first thing that pops into my head is my secret. Break time comes and I chat with a few co-workers, but the only thing on my mind is my secret.

Now, the time is near to let go of the secret. Soon I will reveal to all what has been occupying my thoughts all these 16 days. Before long you will all understand how, and why, I have been letting you all believe a lie. And who knows? You may even understand and forgive me for it.

I am a liar with a clean little secret that will soon be known...

Soundtrack of My Life...

2006-04-20T20:54:00.000-06:00

...or at least a large part of that which I've already lived.

Adem, over at the big blog posted about this little gem and I just couldn't resist giving it a try myself.

How much of your soundtrack is in here, too?

Create your own Music List @ HotFreeLayouts!

Photo of the Week: Big Alberta Sky

2006-04-19T05:33:00.000-06:00

A glimpse of simpler times in our prairie past.
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The Teflon Birthday Boy

2006-04-17T21:59:00.000-06:00

Okay, so most of you have already figured out that last Saturday was my birthday. For you astrological types, that means I'm an Aries. Not the 80's Dodge that almost single-handedly revitalized the popularity of public transit... No, I'm talking about the Ram. Not the latest line of Dodge 18-wheeler-wannabe pickups that urban cowboys drive so they can pretend to live the glamorous life of a trucker... No, I'm talking about the Zodiac. Not the yellow, inflatable, Green Peace-carrying, outboard Master of the Open Seas...

I can do this all day, you know...

Anyway, thanks to the likes of Chana and Wudrich, I didn't really have a prayer of avoiding the realities of another year going by, so I guess I'll just have to come to grips with the fact that I'm 35 and must now officially use the term "mid-30's" without the comforting prefix "almost".

Damn.

What I was able to avoid, however, was the dreaded Birthday Prank.

Those of you who know me will be able to confirm that I have something of a mischievous streak, especially when it come to other people's birthdays. In the last year, I have had a major hand in the planning and/or execution of the following:

Completely filling our boss's office with empty boxes and hiding a laptop in his ceiling that played Calgary Flames Fan music on an endless loop (he's a Toronto Maple Leafs fan).

Stealing, bubble-wrapping, and shrink-wrapping a co-worker's brand new SUV.

Shrink-wrapping our Shipper to a chair at the end of the day and leaving him to free himself with his ball-point pen, MacGyver-style.

Needless to say, I've sort of "had it coming" for quite some time now... Which is why I was on High Alert the last day of work before my birthday! Still, the day came and went without incident. Did they forget? Were they afraid of my potential wrath? Doesn't anybody love me? Who cares! I didn't get pranked!

Booyah!

I actually found out later than Chana had been calling around, weeks before my birthday, to plan the ultimate "Gotcha!" against poor little old, defenseless me. Oddly enough, two different male acquaintances of mine, who don't even know each other, put forth the opinion that the best way to "get me" was with a male stripper. Now, while I have no urge to watch some guy dance for me, wearing nothing but a banana-hammock, wouldn't he also be grinding away in front of my pranksters? Wouldn't they, too, have to see the naked man-flesh gyrating its way around the room?

Either these two didn't think the plan through very far, or there are some disturbing desires buried deep in their psyches that I'm not going to touch with a ten-foot pole... no matter what sex of stripper happens to be dancing around it!

In the end, all plans were called off because Management has decided we need to tone down the pranks. It seems that somebody has gone over-the-top with the joking one too many times. How ironic that the new "rules" should come into effect just in time to save that jokers butt!

I Feel Like I've Been in One...

2006-04-15T08:33:00.000-06:00

I can't remember the last time a movie has left me as emotionally drained as I feel right now.

I missed all the hype the first time around, and I was one of the few people on the planet who first heard about the movie when it won the Oscar for Best Picture. But today, I sat down alone, first thing in the morning, and watched "Crash".

That was 2 hours ago, but I feel like I've run a marathon.

Living in Canada, I guess, has sheltered me from a lot of the racial discrimination and unfounded hatred people experience elsewhere as an everyday occurrence. Or, maybe the fact the I'm Caucasian, living in a predominantly Caucasian society has blinded me to harsh realities of the world. Whatever the cause, and no matter how much I thought I "knew" about racial tension from TV and other media, I wasn't prepared for "Crash".

All those people, so tangled up together in a web of hate, distrust, suspicion, and stereotypes, yet never touching, never understanding, never seeing each other for what we all are... People. Just people.

I'm glad that the movie wasn't preachy... I'm glad that it showed the situations, emotions, and inner turmoil of each character as they came face-to-face with the realities of who they are... I'm glad that it let me experience the pain, the struggle, and the eventual enlightenment, without spoon-feeding me moral platitudes like some ABC After School Special. For a change, Hollywood did it right.

If you've seen "Crash", you'll understand why I, with a 6-year old daughter of my own, was brought to tears late in the movie by the scene with the Hispanic father and daughter... If you haven't, and especially if you are a parent, make sure you've got a box of tissue handy.

You've been warned.

Those Wacky German Scientists...

2006-04-11T10:22:00.000-06:00

I needed a good laugh this morning... And now that I've had it, I thought I'd share it with you good folks and see if it doesn't just brighten your day up a little bit too.

This one's a few years old now, but it never fails to pick me up. If you're a fan of Clerks, you'll recognize Randal and Dante right away. If you've never seen Clerks, this will either make you glad you missed it, or make you run right out to rent it.

Without further ado, I give you, "The Flying Car"...

Will Someone Just Take My Money, Please?

2006-04-10T00:26:00.000-06:00

It happened again last night. I was at Wal-Mart, picking up a few groceries before the start of the week, and I used a couple of $50 bills.

"CSM to Till 14, please... CSM to Till 14."

As usual, the girl working the checkout didn't have the authority to accept my $50 bills. As usual, I had to wait until a different girl, in a different colored smock, came over to Till 14 to examine the bills. As usual, she simply held them up to the light, rubbed them a couple of times, and handed them back to the first girl with a solemn nod. As usual, my bills passed the intense scrutiny of the Wal-Mart CSM.

It could have been worse, I guess... I could have had the misfortune to get a far-sighted CSM incapable of seeing whatever they see when they hold the bills up to the light. Or, worse... She could have pointed to a little sign that says something to the effect of, "Due to counterfeit problems, we no longer accept $50 or $100 bills."

Believe me, I've seen that sign way too many times in recent years!

It's true that, with the increasing quality, availability, and affordability of laser reproduction, counterfeit bills have become a bigger threat than ever before. In response, the Bank of Canada has gone to great lengths to minimize this threat through the use of multiple security features on our money. In addition to the distinctive colors of ours bills, they've also added things like watermarks, holograms, micro-printing, and fluorescence, just to name a few. Of course, not all of the features became available, or were put into effect, at the same time. So, the bills have been redesigned a couple of times. In my lifetime alone, I have seen three different styles of bills (all still in circulation), and the replacement of the $1 and $2 bills by coins.

I'm not even going to get started on the fact that we have no less than 43 different quarters in circulation!

Although these steps have been made primarily to introduce more secure, more difficult to reproduce, paper currency, it has actually created a bit of a Counterfeit Catch-22. You see, with so many different versions of the same denomination bills floating around out there, and the fact the we've become so used to our bills changing so often, you could practically print just about anything with the Queen's face or Sir John A. MacDonald on it and pass it off as the new $7 bill. It's ridiculous!

Here's what I'd like to see:

The Bank of Canada picking a style and sticking with it until it becomes the only one left.

Wal-Mart employees who are trusted enough to handle a float in their till being trusted enough to hold the $50's up to the light and rub them.

Legislation that forces retailers to accept all Canadian currency, despite their fears of counterfeit. If they can't be bothered to learn the security features, they deserve to lose the $50.

A commemorative coin (preferably the dollar... the quarter has had the spotlight long enough) with a coffee cup on one side and my face on the other. Now that's what I'd call a Loonie!

Sunday Spotlight: Paper Sack Lifetime

2006-04-09T09:55:00.000-06:00

Every once in a while, I come across a blog that, right from the first two sentences, has me laughing. Let's face it, there's a lot more comedy out there on the web than we give credit for... There are some truly incredibly funny people sharing their thoughts with a faceless audience when they could easily have their own sitcom or HBO special. And is there anything more refreshing after surfing through blog after blog of the same re-hashed news than a good laugh?

I think not.

Well, about a year ago, I found myself reading Paper Sack Lifetime by Mr. Kyle. I don't remember how I got there... Maybe it was a link from another good blog, or a random thing from BlogExplosion... What I do know is that it only took me a couple minutes of reading before I added the page to my Favorites.

There was nothing visually flashy about the site, nor is there to this day. It simply doesn't need it. Mr. Kyle's writing is so well composed and so original in it's take on life that the color of the background is the last thing on the reader's mind.

His earlier posts were like a voyeuristic look at the stupidity of people in public... all the brainless things people say to each other when they don't think anyone else can hear, or the things that truly clueless people will say no matter who happens to hear. Most of these "conversations" took place in or around a coffee shop, giving the impression that the author was probably a cog in the massive Starbuck's machine... or he just chose a very convenient venue for his "inspiration".

Of late, the theme of the writing has changed a bit, as will happen with all good blogs. Now, the situations are obviously fictitious... but no less funny. I'm reminded more now of the quirkier comedy of Monty Python or Kids in the Hall. Not that it is actually anything like those, but it's the only way I can think of to describe the oddly hilarious scenes Mr. Kyle paints.

All right, then. The seed has been planted and my recommendation given. Now it's up to you to find out for yourself just how funny this guy can be. Go ahead... Go have a laugh or two... You've earned it.

Photo of the Week: Desktop

2006-04-06T10:19:00.000-06:00

This one's a bit of a departure from my usual subject matter... It's actually a picture I took a couple years ago of some trackballs and a pool ball I keep on my desk at work. I've always liked the near-Black & White quality of the shot, and it's been my Windows desktop background since the day I took it. Hence, "Desktop".
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I Got Lucky Last Night

2006-04-05T05:27:00.000-06:00

I'm what I would consider to be a "heavy sleeper"... Not that I actually gain mass as I lie there unconscious, but once I'm asleep, there's no waking up until the alarm goes off in the morning. I don't even have to get up in the night to use the washroom... After all the times I've ordered the Jumbo Jumbo Drink at the movie theatres (for the low, low price of only half of your next paycheck!) then had to force myself to "hold it" through the last 20 minutes of the show, my bladder is one tough hombre!

In High School, this was particularly a problem for the aunt and uncle I lived with. Waking me up in time for school was a challenge in and of itself... And believe me, they tried everything! My uncle hid my alarm clock so I couldn't just reach over and hit "Snooze"... He poured cups of water on my head...He even set off the smoke detector outside my room once. It was a little disconcerting that that last one was the least effective method of pulling me from my comatose state...

I'm telling you all this so you'll understand just how weird last night was.

For no apparently reason what so ever, I woke up in the middle of the night. Weird, huh? Wait, it gets better... I sat up and took a look at the clock, just to see how close my estimate of "middle of the night" was. I'll admit it took me a second or five to comprehend what the flashing "1:27" meant... Does my clock flash in the middle of the night? It doesn't do it in the daytime, I'm sure... Did I hit a button without realizing it? Am I just blinking really fast?

It turns out that, roughly 1 hour and 27 minutes prior to my unexpected awakening, we had experienced a short "power disruption". My lightning quick nocturnal mind surmised this fact as I went out of my room and found the clock on the stove flashing "1:28", the clock on the microwave blank, and my PC (which is always on because you never know what hour of the day a hacker may need to sneak past your firewall and corrupt your data) absolutely silent.

The clock on the VCR hasn't stopped flashing "12:00" since the day I hooked it up, so I can't say that helped any in my brilliant deduction.

So, I chugged a bottle of water from the fridge, reset the clocks, peeked in on my kid, then settled back into bed for a few more hours of sleep. It was then that I noticed both alarms on my dual-alarm clock had reverted to the default "OFF" setting during the power outage.

5 minutes and a few curse words later, I finally figured out how to reset them, without having to go on a hunt for a manual I'm positive I threw away, and I was off to sleep.

Now, this whole episode may seem rather mundane to most of you, but to me it was like a one-in-a-million thing. When I consider how screwed up my morning would have been, how late for work I would have been, and how bitchy this would have made me had I not uncharacteristically awoken in the night in time to avert disaster... Well!

I think I might just go buy a lottery ticket today... Or at least a backup battery for my alarm clock.

I'm A Two-Gum Kinda Guy

2006-04-03T20:20:00.000-06:00

There once was a time when chewing gum either came in a stick, a ball, or a mouth-filling brick. Back then, I was definitely a one-gum guy. Nowadays, however, almost every brand of gum comes in a little blister pack of "Chiclet"-style pieces. As such, I am now a two-gum kinda guy.

(As a side note... How old am I that I feel the need to use the words "back then" and "nowadays"??? Sheesh!)

The fundamental problem with being a two-gum kinda guy is that an even number of pieces per pack is required to achieve a consistently acceptable gum-chewing experience. I have yet to come across a brand of gum that doesn't provide an even number of pieces per pack, so you'd think there wouldn't be a problem.

But you'd be wrong.

Gum is the universal share-treat... Anyone can ask you for a piece of gum and you won't even hesitate before handing it over. It's just a given that gum is to be shared. Period. Because of this phenomenon, the equal distribution of gum by two's is never totally under the control of the two-gum kinda guy... At anytime, a one-gum person could ask for a piece, completely disrupting the balance of the pack.

If this happens early enough in the pack, the two-gum kinda guy has a good chance of encountering another one-gum guy and restoring order. But, if the single piece is removed when the pack is down to its final four, the two-gum kinda guy finds himself smack-dab in the middle of a dilemma in which he really only has 3 options:

He can offer a single piece to whoever wants it, running the risk of looking like a cheap-skate if he encounters another two-gum kinda guy.
He can stuff all three remaining pieces into his mouth and spend the next hour or so looking like a cow chewing its cud.
He can throw the odd piece away and suffer the nagging regret of good money wasted.

No matter how you look at it, it's a toughie!

I suppose the only real way to get around this problem would be to carry two packs of gum... One for yourself and the other two-gum kinda guys, and a back-up pack to be used only in a one-gum emergency. In fact, you could take it a step further and make sure the back-up pack is one of the truly horrible flavors, thereby ensuring that the one-gum guys will eventually come to know you as "the guy with horrible gum" and stop asking you for a piece. This is definitely a long-range plan that will require focus and determination, but I think it just might work...

Now, try to imagine all this and walking at the same time!

Sunday Spotlight: Wudrich

2006-04-02T11:32:00.000-06:00

This being Sunday and me knowing about this cool new blog I want to throw a spotlight on, I thought I'd go out on a creative limb with this oh-so-clever title... I'm crazy like that. So crazy, in fact, that I'm hoping to make this a regular feature here at the Mind.

Of course, the word "regular" should in no way be taken to mean that this feature will appear on a consistent or frequent basis. I'm nothing if not a man who knows his limitations. Anyway...

Do you like movies? Music? How about TV shows? Yeah, of course you do... We all do! But I can honestly say I've never met somebody who likes all those things as much as Wudrich. This guy is like a giant media sponge! You'll already be familiar with this phenomenon if you've ever taken the time to click on Wudrich's Rants and Reviews in my Daily Reads. If you haven't, don't bother looking for it now... it's gone. You had your chance. In its place is the re-vamped and re-named Wudrich.

Gone is the stark white, advertisement-cluttered Angelfire journal with the annoying pop-ups... Now a part of the BlogSpot "big leagues", Wudrich sports a sleek, sexy new template that is much easier on the eyes and far better suited to the main theme of this blog: An in-depth analysis of all things entertainment.

One of the things I like best about Wudrich's reviews is what I call the Common Man Breakdown. He doesn't rate movies on an arbitrary 4- or 5-star scale... He doesn't leave you wondering about the grey area between a thumbs-up and a thumbs-down... He gets right to the point and tells you what you really need to know: Buy It, Rent It, or Skip It. Although this might look more like a rating system for DVD's than theatrical releases, think about it for a second: If it's the kind of movie you'd want to own, go see it in the theatre. If it's purely rental quality, wait for the DVD.

I think Skip It pretty much speaks for itself.

Another great thing about Wudrich is the guy's broad range of taste. If I had to put a word to his movie, music, and TV preferences, it would be "eclectic", not only because it's the right word, but because I spent a whole 3 minutes looking it up to make sure it was the right word and time is money, baby! There's nothing worse than reading a review written by somebody who you just know never strays from one corner of his local Blockbuster Video... "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: No spaceships... It sucked!" Well, you won't find that at Wudrich. Sci-Fi, Drama, Chick Flicks, you name it... He'll give you the low-down on all of them without prejudice.

As a bonus, Wudrich is also quite the budding photographer... Seriously. He's got a great digital camera, and he's not afraid use it. So look for a showcase of his work in his "Photo Friday" posts.

Are you still here? Come on! I've left more than enough links to this great new site... Get clicking! Just remember to tell him Cuppojoe sent you so I can tell him he owes me one...

Spoon-Fed Marketing

2006-03-31T18:17:00.000-07:00

So here I am, sitting in front of the TV, and on comes a commercial that I've seen about a hundred times. It's for the "Big Dodge Ram Mega Cab", where these 4 huge, lumberjack kinda guys pile out of buddy's pickup at some little restaurant in the mountains because one of them just has to have pancakes. As they go inside, the camera pans to show a giant Paul Bunyan statue at the end of the parking lot, and ol' Paul's got his eye on that big truck.

You know which one I'm talking about now?

Well, after the voice-over is finished reciting all the specs of the truck and the legal mumbo jumbo involved in leasing the beast, the guys come out of the restaurant, only to find the truck missing. "Where's the truck?" one of them so-intelligently asks.

The commercial finishes with a shot of the truck driving away down the highway with a giant axe in the back. Ha ha... Clever marketing... The truck's even big enough for Paul Bunyan.

I noticed something different today, though. This time, when they showed Paul checking out the truck, they added a little "thought-voice" saying, "That sure is a big truck..."

It's not uncommon for ad agencies to change commercials a little bit, especially if market research shows that the audience isn't getting the point. So, I'm led to believe that there were enough people out there who were completely stumped by this one that they had to clarify it. I suppose some schmoe was sitting in his house thinking, "Hey... After those guys found their missing truck, why did they steal Paul Bunyan's axe? They'll never be able to swing that!"

You watch, we're gonna start seeing commercials with the director's commentary anytime now...

Scenes from the Forklift: Job Knowledge

2006-03-30T18:16:00.000-07:00

I was sitting at my desk this morning, going over a couple emails, updating a few things in the system, when I looked up and saw 2 guys from "The Other Company" (really, just a division of our company, but "different" enough to deserve the title) approaching. The two of them stopped in my doorway and just stared at me until I finally gave in and asked, "Yes?"

With Number Two Other Guy leaning over his shoulder, Number One Other Guy held up a keyboard for me to see.

"Can we leave this on your cleaning bench for one of your guys to clean?"

Now, a couple of things ran through my mind at that moment... I wondered why I would want to have a member of my staff clean a keyboard for "The Other Company"... I wondered why it took two of them to come ask me this inane question... I wondered how two guys could stand so close together without feeling just a little creeped out...

I believe my response was something to the effect of, "No", after which I went back to what I was doing, hoping they would go away.

If wishes were fishes...

I gave it a good 5 seconds before looking up again and saying, "Why don't you just clean it yourself?" I was just itching to hear them say they were too busy so I could rip into them about it taking two really busy guys to walk one keyboard back to the warehouse. Alas, all I got was a blank stare and the response, "We don't know which chemicals are involved in that process."

Let me clarify... We're talking about a keyboard for a computer here. And, from what I could see, it was a little dirty. I really didn't think we were going to have to resort to some exotic chemical treatment in order to render this particular piece of equipment safe for public use. Looking over at the aforementioned cleaning bench, I saw the usual array of sanitation apparatus: Namely, a bottle of Windex and a pile of rags.

In the end, I think the two of them got it all figured out... But now I'm wondering if these might be the guys that left the "Snickers Bar, please" note and dollar taped to the snack machine...

Photo of the Week: The One Less Traveled By

2006-03-28T18:05:00.000-07:00

Living in Alberta means the possibility of beauty and adventure around every bend in the road... Something I need to take more advantage of.

By the way, check out my sidebar for links to past "Photo of the Week" features.
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Analyze This: The Good, The Bad, and The Glowing Blue Goo

2006-03-25T12:10:00.000-07:00

It's been a little while since I've given you all a glimpse at what caffeine can do to a sleeping brain, so let's see if you can wrap your heads around this one...

Ready? Here we go...

It started off with my boss handing me what can only be called a ridiculously small kayak with a paddle about the size of two wooden spoons strapped together. Looking around, I noticed the aqueduct we were in was full of "boaters"... I say that in quotes because I'm not sure I saw an actual "boat" among them. Lots of inner tubes, inflatable mattresses, and even a few bathtubs, but no boats. Slipping off the concrete wall and into my kayak, I quickly made my way to the head of the pack.

Little did I realize, this meant being the first person to paddle his way into my great-aunt's living room.

I negotiated the turns around the ottoman and coffee tables without too much trouble, and even made it so far as the guest bathroom on the main floor before I was stumped by an insurmountable obstacle... The stairs. Fortunately, that seemed to be the end of the race, since my little kayak had mysteriously disappeared.

Up the stairs I went.

Now, maybe my memory of my great-aunt's house is a little sketchy, but I'm pretty sure she didn't have a shopping mall upstairs. Still, there it was... A two-level, gallery-style mall that looked nothing like any mall I'd ever been in. It was full of garish colors, sunlight streamed in through the glass skylights, the stores were tiny little shops all packed together, and the place was crowded. I imagine it's the kind of thing one might see in Japan...

Looking around, I spotted someone I know, but haven't seen in many years. He was standing on the second level, right at the railing, holding what looked like a Nerf gun or Super Soaker, and smiling down at me. In the next instant, he raised the gun and fired, just missing me but leaving a glowing blue puddle of goo not far from where I stood.

The chase was on.

For how long I dodged and weaved through the crowd in the mall trying to avoid being shot by the mysterious blue goo, I don't know. I always managed to stay a step ahead of my attacker, but every time I looked back he was right there, relentlessly pursuing me like something out of a Terminator movie. A couple of times I saw him stop long enough to fire a shot into the ground where he stood, almost like we has marking his path. Who needs a Mall Directory when you've got a gun that makes puddles of glowing blue, goo, eh?

I took a turn down a hallway devoid of shops and found myself facing two doors. One was marked "Gas Meter Room" and the other "Boiler Room". Having been a Building Operator at one time, and knowing my way around these types of rooms, I was momentarily encouraged that I had finally gained the upper hand. Until, that is, I remembered I hadn't ever been a Building Operator in this mall and likely didn't have a key to either of those doors. So, I turned to leave the hallway and find a new route, but there he was.

Still smiling, he approached. I had nowhere to go and nothing to defend myself with. I was defeated. He raised the gun a final time and held the barrel about an inch from my chest.

The next thing I saw was my own arm flailing out and knocking the gun out of line with my body. "Interesting," I thought, since it hadn't occurred to me to try a move so daring. Even as I thought this, my other hand shot out and twisted the gun from my attacker's grip. I spun around, aimed, and fired.

A glowing blue spot seemed to blossom on his chest. With the same empty smile still tattooed on his face, he began to fall backwards.

And I woke up.

All right, kids, have at it... There's got to be plenty of imagery in that one for you to dissect. Don't hold back... let me have it!

Me vs. The School, Part 2

2006-03-22T12:49:00.000-07:00

We now return to our regularly scheduled program in progress...

Well, I called the principal of my kid's school, as promised. In an unprecedented wise move on my part, I actually waited two days before making the call. Had I not, I'm quite certain a few of you would have seen me on the local news with a graphic proclaiming, "Preposterously Pugnacious Parent Provokes Public School Principal into Pugilistic Pairing". Those Channel 3 guys love alliteration. And the letter "P".

I have to hand it to this guy... He's quite the diplomat. Before I even had a chance to get worked up, he had me eating out of his hand and saying things like, "Oh, definitely. I completely understand." and, "No, no... Of course. I can't see it being any other way." and even, "I must kill the Malaysian Prime Minister."

(That last one is a lot funnier if you've seen Zoolander... trust me.)

The long and the short of it is, I have a Parent Teacher Conference to attend this Friday, during which I have been encouraged to have the teacher provide her "evidence" for the marks given (all "3's", in case you've forgotten). I'm looking forward to the imperical proof of my child's absolute averageness, I tell you.

While I had the guy on the phone, I decided to bring up another issue that my daughter has been complaining about lately, namely the fact that she has been the victim of some bullying on the playground. It seems that a few of the boys have been pushing her down on the ice, or grabbing her ankles when she's on the monkey bars. I'm not ready to explain to her that these actions are likely indications of affection, so I'll just let good ol' Mr Principal deal with it for now.

Wait... There's more.

I happened to be telling a co-worker about these bullying problems, and he related the following story to me.

Apparently, when his son was about the same age as my daughter is now, he too was being bullied at school. His dad (my co-worker... come on, follow along here!), tried giving all the politically correct advice he could think of, from, "Try to stay away from the kid" to, "Tell a teacher when you get bullied".

Not surprisingly, especially with children this age, whose grasp of logic is somewhat less than fully developed, the bullying continued. At the end of his rope, the dad (my co-worker... remember?), finally sat his son down and said, "Look, violence is not the answer to your problems, but, sometimes you just have to stand up for yourself when you are being picked on. The next time it happens, if you can't resolve it any other way, just give the kid a smack. Maybe you'll get beat up, but maybe showing that you aren't afraid to defend yourself will put a stop to all this."

Some time after that, the dad went to pick his son up from school, only to find out that he had been to the Office for fighting that day. "Well, what happened?" the dad asked.

"It's like this,", his son replied. "She just kept trying to kiss me. I warned her not to 3 times, like you taught me, and then I hit her."

A Father's Crushing Defeat

2006-03-21T20:41:00.000-07:00

Well, I was pretty jazzed as I left work today because I had the most awesome idea for a blog post. Unfortunately, the best laid plans of mice and men...

Before I could even make it home, I had the pleasure of catching my little girl, my angel, the apple of my eye trying to steal a toy from one of my girlfriend's kids. I discovered, after much questioning and about a gallon of crocodile tears, she did it because, as she said, "he has really cool stuff".

*sigh*

Suffice it to say, the wind has kind of been taken out of my sails for this evening. So, my apologies for teasing you with the thought of a good laugh, but I'm sure I'll be more up to the task tomorrow.

I Have The Most Average Child

2006-03-19T20:42:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was the day that children everywhere dread. It was also the day that parents everywhere look forward to with an evil little smile and the wringing of hands in a very 1950's B-movie mad scientist sort of way. I'm speaking, of course, about Report Card Day.

(insert creepy pipe organ music here)

The last time report cards came home, I was sure that I was going to open the envelope to find out that my little girl wasn't only a genius, but that she was the most genius-est kid they had ever seen. "Light-years ahead of the rest!" and, "Mind-bogglingly brilliant!" would surely be just a couple of the glowing comments.

Okay, maybe I was a tad over-optimistic...

What I saw was a veritable parade of "3's" right down both pages of her Report Card. I don't know how they score kids where you are, but apparently the "Scale from 1 to 5" method is preferred in my neck of the woods. So, "3" being the absolute middle-ground between a failing "1" and Beautiful Mind "5", it appeared that my daughter was dead average... in all 38, count 'em, 38 categories.

My first reaction was to proclaim her teacher too lazy to put an effort into the report. I wanted to get in touch with every other parent so we could compare just how little effort was put in on the rest of the reports. I wanted to take the papers and wave them in the principal's face, demanding the teacher's immediate expulsion from the school and teaching in general.

In the end, I tried a more sane approach and went to the Parent-Teacher Interview.

I was assured that the reason for all those "3's" was that the students had not yet done enough testing to produce definitive grading results. She told me that my daughter was doing fine and not struggling at all. She promised I would see more accurate grading in the next Reporting Period.

So, it came as no little shock when I saw a second column of "3's" when I opened the latest Report Card. Now I'm livid.

Maybe my kid isn't the next Einstein. For starters, she has way better hair... But I know that it's impossible for her to be average in every single way that our illustrious school board has decided to evaluate our children. Like every other kid out there, she has her strengths, and she has her weaknesses. I see them, so why hasn't her teacher made the same observations?

What good does it do to "gloss over" a Report Card? There's no way to tell what she needs to work harder on, or where I should be giving her praise for a job well done. And what's going to happen next year when she gets a teacher who actually gives a crap about the job (my fingers are already crossed), and it turns out that my little girl is behind everyone else in some fundamental area? Who pays? My kid, that's who.

I can tell you one thing: There will definitely be a phone call to the principal tomorrow. Will I speak with him rationally about my concerns with a member of his staff? Or will I snap and "go off", making a fool of myself? Right now, folks, it's a 50-50.

Stay tuned...

Photo of the Week: Treasure in the Trees

2006-03-15T18:01:00.000-07:00

I've been saving this one for a while... A shady forest setting along with a slow shutter speed made for a great shot just below Bridal Veil Falls, near Chilliwack, BC.
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Get Ready to Kiss Prince Edward Island Good-Bye

2006-03-14T18:43:00.000-07:00

That's right... It looks like our beloved little potato-producing province's days are numbered. I sure hope Anne of Green Gables knows how to swim...

According to the "experts", and by that I mean those select individuals who appear to get some weird kick out of analyzing weather patterns, Canada is currently experiencing the warmest winter on record. In fact, they go so far as to point out that 35 of the last 36 seasons (I'll save you doing the math and tell you that amounts to almost 9 years) have been warmer than average.

It's Global Warming, people! Let the mass-panic begin! Better stock up on End-of-the-World supplies now! I saw "The Day After Tomorrow"... I know how this goes down.

Okay, okay... That's not really me. I'm no where near being that much of an extremist. To be honest, when I saw that movie, that wonderful piece of cinematic excellence, that veritable buffet for the senses (seriously, we have to work on your grasp of sarcasm...) Anyway, when I endured "The Day After Tomorrow", and I saw all that snow and ice blanketing New York City, my first thought was, "Man! They better plug in their cars tonight!"

Regardless of my level-headed approach to this "news", though, you just know there are a bunch of crackpots who are more than eager to hold it up as "proof" that the end is near and that mankind only has itself to blame. Our flagrant use of hairspray in the 80's has angered Mother Nature and she's about to get her revenge...

On a much more serious note (unusual for me, I know)... For anyone interested in a little perspective on this subject, I would highly recommend Michael Crichton's novel, "State of Fear". While it is a work of fiction, Crichton has not only based much of it on factual articles, journals, and the like, but has taken the time to footnote these references where possible. The story itself is a definite eye-opener, to be sure.

Give it a try... Besides, what else are you going to do when the power goes out?

Withdrawl Sucks!

2006-03-08T20:08:00.000-07:00

I had no idea I was addicted as I apparently am...

For once, I'm not talking about coffee. Although, truth be told, I don't see how anyone has the right to judge my deep and abiding love of the greatest drink ever as an "addiction". That implies I return to the Fount of Caffeinated Heaven time and again out of need, rather than want. Believe me, it's a want.

Oh boy, is it a want!

But, as I said, this isn't about that. I'm referring, instead, to the Internet... The World Wide Web, as it were... This global collection of computers, inextricably bound together by high-speed and dial-up connections alike. And, for what seems like longer than I can remember, I have been a part of all this... One small link in the greater chain... A daily commuter on the Information Super Highway... A surfer on the electro-charged waves of Cyberspace.

And not a bad metaphorist either, I might add.

Okay, on to the meat and potatoes of this working man's entrée...

My cable modem packed it in Saturday evening. Dead. The only warnings I had were a couple dropped connection hiccups... the final death-throes, yet unbeknownst to me. I tried my darndest to revive the little sucker, though... checked the cables, rebooted the system, rebooted the router, rebooted the modem, checked the cables again, struggled with tech support. In the end, I called the time of death at 5:25pm. As luck would have it, my ISP's customer service closed at 5:30, meaning I'd have to wait until the next day for a replacement.

Of course, there wasn't anything I needed to do on the 'net for those 21 hours, 32 minutes, and 7 seconds (roughly), but as soon as I wasn't able to get on, I wanted to get on. Did I have email? Was there a clever comment to one of my less-then-clever blog posts? Was it cold outside? I don't trust just stepping outside... these things can be very local, you know.

I was cut off from the world, people, and I didn't like it! Not one bit, I tell you!

Thankfully, once the new modem was home... I've named him Herb, by the way... Anyway, once Herb was home, and everything was back to normal, I let out a sigh of relief and "got connected" once again. Of course, no new email, no comments, and it really was cold beyond my back porch.

It figures.

It Would Seem That I'm "It"

2006-03-06T19:02:00.000-07:00

I had this brilliant idea for a post today, and even got half-way through composing it in my mind. That was when I noticed that somebody had decided to tag me. Okay, in the spirit of the game then, here we go:

Four Jobs I've Had:

1. Chimney Sweep Solicitor
2. Water Salesman
3. Assistant Stage Manager / Sound Operator
4. Building Operator

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over:

1. Goodfellas
2. Garden State
3. Can't Buy Me Love (don't judge me...)
4. The Matrix (especially the lobby shoot 'em up!)

Four Places I’ve Lived:

1. 160-acre farm 7 miles northwest of Cremona, Alberta
2. Cedar by the Sea, Vancouver Island, BC (I saw killer whales out my front window... seriously!)
3. All four corners of Calgary, Alberta at one time or another
4. My mother's couch (good old college poverty, eh?)

Four TV Shows I Love(d):

1. Six Million Dollar Man
2. Knight Rider
3. Scrubs (by far the best sitcom ever!)
4. Hockey Night in Canada (did you expect any less?)

Four Places I've Holidayed:

1. Yellowstone National Park
2. Kelowna, BC (still haven't spotted the Ogopogo, though)
3. Mexico
4. Right here at home

Four of My Favorite Dishes:

1. Coffee Cups (of course)
2. Cereal Bowls
3. Plates
4. Gravy Boats

Four Sites I Visit Daily:

1. MSNBC.com
2. The Weather Network
3. Gmail
4. My company's web-based Inventory Tracking Program (only because I'm paid to...)

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now:

1. In line to cash my paycheque
2. Sleeping
3. Getting my photo taken with a giant make-believe cheque for winning the Lotto 6/49
4. Sleeping

Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:

1. Chana (known to most who visit my site as "Me"... My gf who has just started her own blog)
2. Torfeida (because it has been far too quite Down Under lately)
3. T (because I love his perspective on life)
4. Napfisk (because an informative mind like his must have some interesting answers)

Photo of the Week: Life's a Beach

2006-03-04T11:31:00.000-07:00

Just one of many "gnarly" sights on the beaches of Parksville, BC.
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I Should Do It More Than Twice Every Couple Decades

2006-03-01T20:31:00.000-07:00

Okay, look... I was in college at the time, and it only happened once... All right, twice, but no more than that, I swear. Come on, the guy was definitely the experimental type, very experienced, and knew I'd be totally into it once I gave it a try... I just had to trust him. Boy, am I glad I did! My only regret is that it hasn't happened again in the 15 years since.

If you've made it this far without lunging for the Close Window button in a homophobic panic, you're about to be either pleasantly relieved to find out that I haven't gone all "Brokeback Blog" on you, or terribly disappointed if you were expecting a sordid tale of man-on-man action.

(Wow, I almost lunged for the Close Window button after typing those last four words!)

Sorry, cowboys... I'm actually talking about the two times that my college roommate (whom I'll call "Ron"... because that was his name) made mix tapes for me. Okay, maybe that didn't sound very heterosexual either, but stay with me for a minute and it will all make sense... I promise.

When I say Ron was experienced and experimental, I'm talking about music. He had the most massive collection of records, tapes, and CDs I had ever heard of, he practically lived in HMV, and he was always into the hottest new music before it even became the hottest new music. He used to come home with a new CD, invariably by somebody that no one else in the household had ever heard of, lock himself in his bedroom, slap on his big Sony headphones, and play it over and over and over until he knew the whole thing front to back, inside out. Then he'd come out, go straight to the big stereo, and dub the disc to cassette so he could listen to it in the car. Once that was done, he'd give the rest of us his review, telling us if the artist would "make it" or not, and which songs would be hits. And you know what? He was almost always right.

Before I met Ron, I was stuck in High School, musically speaking. It was the early 90's, a time of some great alternative bands (that's alternative with a lower-case 'a', when it wasn't just a cooler sounding label than 'Pop') and awesome new sounds, but I was deaf to it because I wasn't adventurous enough to leave George Michael's "Faith" or INX's "Kick" behind.

Sad.

But Ron was a good guy... He knew a buddy in need of new tunes when he saw one. And so, he made me a couple of cassettes that introduced me to a bunch of new stuff. Well, some of it was actually old stuff, but it was new to me, and I loved it all.

For the first tape, he shuffled through piles of LPs and jewel cases, setting some aside, saying, "Oh! You'll like this!". Most of the songs on that one were completely new to me... Some Screaming Blue Messiahs, the Pixies, a little Big Audio Dynamite... All oldies now, but exactly the fresh sound I was looking for back then. I called that tape "Oh! You'll Like This!!! (The Force-Fed Mix)".

The second tape was a little different, but no less spectacular. It featured bands like The Housemartins, the Posies, They Might Be Giants, and The Mighty Lemon Drops. What made it great, though, was the amount of tracks that actually came off of honest-to-goodness records. Great sound, with just a hint of that vinyl hiss, pop, and crackle... Very cool. And I remember him waving me out of his way and telling me not to walk around when he had an LP on, or it might skip. So I ended up calling that tape "Steppin' Lightly Past the Vinyl (The One-Skip Mix)".

Like I said, that was 15 years ago now. I have gone 15 years without a knowledgeable, adventurous musical influence to get me excited about slappin' on the old headphones. I've had to make do with radio airplay and its pathetic parade of Classic Rock and cookie-cutter groups that are no more original than a 3-piece cover band at your local pub (yeah, I'm talking about you, Nickleback). That is, until last weekend...

I was doing a little blog surfing last Saturday and, no surprise if you know me, I went on over to the Zach Braff Blog (see "Daily Reads" in my sidebar) for a long overdue look-see. And what do you think good old Zach had chosen to talk about in his latest entry? Yep, music. Specifically, an up-and-coming artist by the name of Joshua Radin. Obviously this was a sign, right? Like Ron was speaking to me again, this time through the online writing of a celebrity neither of us have, or likely ever will, meet. Some crazy, cosmic tie that... Oh, fine... It was a coincidence. But it got me thinking.

I surfed a bit more and, long story short, ended up downloading... er... I mean, legitimately and legally purchasing about 40 tracks or so from one of the seasons of Scrubs, including 3 by Mr. Radin himself. And I gotta say, they are awesome! As I sat back and let my mp3 player do its thing, I got the same chills that my 2 mix tapes used to give me. At last!

I'm now definitely ready to explore some new musical horizons again, and I'm going to start by "legitimately and legally purchasing" some more stuff along the Zach Braff-y and Scrubs-y line... And, hey! If any of you have recommendations for stuff I just have to hear, drop me a comment or email and I'll try to check it out.

See, that was pretty heterosexual after all, wasn't it?

Hey! Hold That Band Wagon!

2006-02-26T15:22:00.000-07:00

Forgive me, friends, for I was unable to resist the latest gimmick for increasing my blog traffic. I know, I know... If I'd just post a little more often (and, perhaps, a little more interestingly), the traffic would increase on its own. Well, I am a man who is at One with his shortcomings, and I know that my caffeinated little blog needs all the help it can get. Hence, BlogMad.

It hasn't been launched yet, but BlogMad is letting bloggers sign-up early. Once the official launch comes, membership will be by referral only.

Seriously, who doesn't want more traffic? So, do yourself (and me, admittedly) a favor by clicking on the graphic above and sign up before it's too late.

Photo of the Week: Final Approach

2006-02-25T09:32:00.000-07:00

The days of flying through the clouds are long past for these two (look close and you'll see the frame of a helicopter beside the plane).
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Today's Not-So-Funny

2006-02-22T19:58:00.000-07:00

Hey, gang! I've just thought of the most clever riddle...

Q: What do you get when you cross some of the best Canadian NHL talent with the coaching skills of Pat Quinn?

A: Nothing.

Ha! I kill me!

But seriously... Finally, the rest of the country can now experience that exquisite, pit-of-your-stomach disappointment that Toronto Maple Leaf fans have come to refer to as "the usual". That's right, in case you haven't heard (seriously, who the heck hasn't heard?), Team Canada has been eliminated from Men's Olympic Hockey in the quarter-finals by Russia.

Not that I'm surprised.

Leading up to the Olympics, all you heard on TV or the radio was how talented Canada's Men's team was... How, with the depth available to us, we could have put together two medal contending teams... How they were going to bring home the gold for the second time in a row.

Ouch. Missed it by that much.

Everybody went nuts when Canada won their first two games, out-scoring their opponents 11 goals to 3... But I think we forgot that these games were against Italy and Germany. Come on! Italy and Germany? What did we expect? It wasn't until the Swiss beat them in a 2-0 shutout that eyebrows started to raise. Switzerland? Better known for bank accounts and army knives than hockey? Huh. Must have been an off day.

Yeah, I wish.

The loss to the Swiss (and the subsequent losses that have landed the team in the same embarrassing boat as our American counterparts) pointed out the one glaring flaw in Canada's quest for the gold: There is no "Team" in "Team Canada".

Plain and simple, the boys never gelled. Instead of looking like the powerhouse they were professed to be, they looked more like a bunch of NHL Alumni playing an impromptu exhibition game. No cohesion, no jump, no fire.

Some will say that it was the absence of guys like Lemieux or Stevie Y... Some will say it was the distraction of the controversy surrounding Gretzky... Some will say it was the tough NHL schedule leading up to the Games. Whatever. These were all things they knew about before they even left for the Olympics. It wasn't like they got to Italy, looked around and said, "Hey! Where's Mario?" or "We have to play Olympic hockey? But I just played 2 months of gruelling NHL hockey!" or "I'm so upset and distracted by this whole Gretzky scandal... I'm not sure I can concentrate on my game. Did you even know you could bet on sporting events?" No, they knew it all going in and I doubt any of these things had anything to do with their, shall we say, less than admirable performance.

So, I stand by my belief that the blame lies on Pat Quinn's shoulders, and his shoulders alone. As the coach, it was his job to take this group of All-Stars and mold them into an All-Star team. It was his responsibility to put together lines with players who complimented each other ("My, those are lovely shin guards you have on today, Joe.", "Why, thank you, Iggy!"). And it was his responsibility to motivate those players to bring their "A" games... as a team. He can't point the finger at anyone, unless he's facing a mirror. Period.

Oh well. You lose some, you lose some, eh Quinn?

Thanks for nothin'.

SpongeBob Says: Canadian Girls Kick Ass!

2006-02-20T17:27:00.000-07:00

Way to go Canadian Women's Ice Hockey Team! Good job bringing home some more of those gold CD-lookin' thingies!

Wanted: Coach for Team Canada

2006-02-19T20:06:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty steamed about this subject, so I'm going to keep it short, irrational, and based on as little actual knowledge of the situation as possible...

If you're anything like me, you've got a healthy self-esteem (read as "ego"), an infrequently updated blog, and piercing headaches when you go more than 24 hours without a coffee. You also would have been up early this Saturday morning to have the pleasure of watching the highly-touted Team Canada get shutout by Switzerland, hockey powerhouse that they are, in Olympic Men's Ice Hockey. Moreover, you would have shaken that dismal performance off as a "bad day", an "anomoly", a "momentary lapse", as it were... And then you would have watched with a sickening sense of deja vu (which, I believe, is French for "I don't speak French") as they got shutout by Team Finland today.

Enough is enough already.

I don't blame the guys for this... I don't blame the jetlag, either... I don't even blame the gruelling NHL schedule leading up to the Olympic break. I blame Pat Quinn. And I blame whoever it was that named Pat Quinn coach of Team Canada, even if that someone is The Great One himself (I'm referring to Wayne Gretzky this time, not me).

There are 6 Canadian teams in the NHL, all but 2 of them who have been having great seasons of late. Among those 2 is the Toronto Maple Leafs, coached by Quinn. This guy can't get the Leafs out of the basement of the League, and yet we expect him to take a bunch of guys who don't normally play together and lead them to Gold at the Olympics? Ridiculous!

I just hope that we see a real coach like Darryl Sutter or Marc Crawford behind the bench when Vancouver 2010 rolls around...

Really Stupid Mistakes Are Often the Most Obvious

2006-02-14T17:40:00.000-07:00

Your girlfriend should never have to call you on Valentine's Day to find out why you haven't called to wish her a Happy Valentine's Day yet.

Dummy.

10 Things That Bug Me in the Kitchen

2006-02-13T05:25:00.000-07:00

1. That stepped-on piece of cooked macaroni that fuses with the bottom of my sock and forces me to drag my heal in vain for 10 minutes before I give up and finish cooking one-side barefoot.

2. The last raviolli that clings to the inside of the can while I shake little bits of sauce all over the stove-top.

3. Plastic wrap that refuses to stick to any of my containers, but will happily fold over in a heartbeat and become inseparable from itself.

4. Trying to get peanut butter from the bottom of the jar and getting more on the knife handle and my knuckles than on the blade.

5. Rice Krispies that, having been previously soaked in milk, bond with super-glue-like strength to the side of the cereal bowl and must be chiseled free.

6. Any recipe that involves boiling milk and water. It's a timebomb concoction that waits until my back is turned before instantly frothing over the top of the pot and coating the burner.

7. Cleaning burnt milk from under the burners on my stove.

8. Smoking burners that haven't been properly exorcised of their burnt milk.

9. The bags inside cereal boxes that have obviously been sealed too well. The ones that, no matter how careful I am, end up tearing open jaggedly, ensuring that every pour will include 9 pieces of cereal skittering across the counter and down beside the fridge.

10. Sinks that aren't big enough to handle a 4-day backlog of dishes... What's up with that?

Not the Way it Should Be Played

2006-02-12T08:40:00.000-07:00

16-0.

That's the humiliating score Canada posted over Italy in the first round of Women's Ice Hockey at Torino 2006. And I say "humiliating" not from the perspective of the Italians, but from that of hockey in general.

No team should lose a hockey game by 16 goals.

Fine, the Italian team wasn't as good as Canada... That was expected. In all fairness, this year's Women's Ice Hockey is being called a "two-team tournament" because of the dominance of Canada and the U.S. Okay, so we can pretty much bank on those two teams facing each other for the gold... But we still have to play the tournament and get past all of the other teams who have put so much time and effort (not to mention blood, sweat, and tears) to get to the Olympics.

But do we really need to crush them? To flaunt in their faces how much better we are than them? To make them feel as if they wasted their time in showing up?

Sadly, yes.

The Olympic Ice Hockey rules dictate that the team with the most goals in the tournament will have Home Ice Advantage in the Gold Medal game. This means that Canada and the U.S. (who are assuming they will be facing each other) are not only playing each game of the tournament to win, but also to stack up as many goals as possible along the way. It's the most classic case of adding insult to injury.

This isn't the way hockey is normally played, and it's not the way it should be played when the world is watching. The good sportsmanship these players have had instilled in them since they first laced up their skates has been thrown out the window. Where they were previously encouraged to "let up a bit" on a team they were beating handily, they are now being told to "show no mercy". Pathetic.

Apparently, a simple coin toss to determine Home Ice is out of the question...

I'm not a hockey player, and definitely not a woman, but I'd like to apologize to the world in advance, on behalf of the Canadian and the U.S. teams for the misery they will be forced to inflict on the rest of the teams. Let's just hope the Olympic Committee realizes what a gong show they've created with this rule and that they get it sorted out before Vancouver 2010.

There's "In a Rut", and Then There's This

2006-02-07T13:32:00.000-07:00

Man, am I in a slump lately... Yeah, with regards to this blog, sure, but personally, too. I feel like my life of late has been a test pattern interrupted only occasionally by infomercials for obscure and mundane products. And not the cool infomercials either... Remember back in the late 80's and early 90's when they weren't even full-motion commercials, more like slideshows of real commercials? And the "slides" updated based on a set interval, so you didn't always get great shots... If it refreshed during a part of the infomercial where there was lots of motion, all you got to see for 5 seconds was a frozen blur.

That's me lately: Boring, blurry, and hard to watch.

I doesn't help that everything around me is conspiring to ensure I remain as unexcited as possible, either. Take TV, for example... This is one of the longest dry spells for entertainment that I can recall. Sure, lots of stuff to see, but very little of it worth the time. I don't care to watch celebrities dance or figure skate... Whether or not somebody can be the best singer out of 8 or 10 other people and still not make anything of themselves doesn't interest me in the least... And how many police/crime/trauma shows do we need to have on the air before we consider it "enough"?

Even the programs that show promise are ending up as disappointments... "Lost"? Great idea, but milking the suspense ever-so-slowly over the weeks gets too tedious to bother with. "Arrested Development"? Classic example of, "Smart, witty, and entertaining... Let's cancel it." (Anybody else having "Dead Like Me" flashbacks?) Even my personal favorite, the one shining star in the darkness that is network television, "Scrubs" got held back for half a season to allow room for crappier, destined-to-fail shows in the Fall Schedule. And now that it's back (Hooray!), what do they do? Constantly put it up against specials and award shows so it can't help but fail in the Nielsen ratings. Brilliant.

Big Screen Hollywood hasn't been much better, either. I don't think there have been more than a couple movies worth spending the $12 per ticket to see (not to mention the $30 for popcorn and soda). And believe me, I've tried! Although, "King Kong" was awesome, I could have waited for "Fun with Dick and Jane" to hit Blockbuster, and "Munich" was simply 3 tedious hours of predictability and repetitiveness that I'll never get back. Maybe there was a deeper political or social agenda at play there, but you need a more recent event and a lot more action if you want to flog it over 180 minutes (Take note, Spielberg).

What's left, then, to keep me from nodding off and drooling on my chest? It's winter in Canada, the sun goes down by 4:30 in the freaking afternoon, and I work until 5! And don't even get me started about the weekends... Winter in Calgary means one of two things: Bone-chilling cold, or howling wind, both of which drive me nuts. I could do without ever seeing snow again in my lifetime, and the migraine headaches brought on by the infamous chinook winds are no picnic, let me tell you. So, I either get to wander the malls that are 90% women's clothing stores, full of people who are oblivious to the fact that you exist or that they have just cut you off in their determination to get to that prized sweater that's just gone on sale, or I can sit in my home, staring at the walls until I'm ready to climb them.

I'm telling you, summer better get here quick or you might end up reading "Cuppojoe's Psychotic Mind"...

Midweek Miscellaneous

2005-10-05T06:04:00.000-06:00

Pondering
Lots of people refer to Wednesday as "Hump Day". I wonder what prostitutes call it...

He Shoots, He Scores!
NHL Hockey returns tonight... Oh, baby! And, in case you haven't heard, Sport Illustrated has already picked my hometown Calgary Flames as the Stanley Cup favorite for 2006. Oh yeah! Iggy and Kipper are gonna rock the 'Dome this year!

Help Wanted
Lookin' for a job in fun, high-paying, fast-paced environment? Well, I can't help you there... But, if you live in Calgary, are lookin' for work, and don't mind having embellished stories of your workplace performance posted to the Internet, drop me an email. Who wouldn't want Cuppojoe for a boss, eh?

The Other Cup Fever
My thumbs are almost completely healed... Must be about time for Tim Horton's to bring back their Roll Up the Rim to Win contest. I swear, if I don't at least get a free cup of coffee out of them this time around, I'm gonna... Well... I'm gonna... Uh... Damn! I probably won't do anything, but I'll sure be pissed! (Curse this cursed addiction...)

War... What Is It Good For?
Can anybody help out a poor Canadian and explain the Iraq War in a non-biased, non-partisan way? I've heard about a thousand people give their fist-shaking, frustration-venting accounts, but I still don't get it. What is the fight about? Is Iraq evil? Is Bush the spawn of Satan? What's going on here? Please, just a simple breakdown is all I ask for!

Analyze This: Up the Creek Without a Pilot

2005-10-03T22:26:00.000-06:00

Standing at the open cargo bay door of the Hercules aircraft, I watched the clouds crawl past below and marveled at the fact such a huge plane could even get off the ground, let alone stay aloft.

Looking back, I saw the fighter jet holding position a little below and behind us, despite the lack of a pilot. I guessed the autopilot must have been engaged. Without question, someone would have to land the plane, or it would eventually run out of fuel and plow into the ground. What were the odds the impact would occur in an unpopulated area? Not good, I was sure. Bottom line, we had to find a way to bring it down safely.

I turned to see if either of my companions had a brilliant idea that would save the day. Alec Baldwin stood holding onto one of the massive hydraulic arms that operated the hatch, staring back at me with his patented cold stare. Or maybe it was a blank stare and I have over-estimated him all these years... It was hard to tell. Rockstar (of "Scenes from the Forklift" fame), on the other hand, was already springing into action. Without a word, he hurled himself out the back of our plane and plummeted the 40 or 50 feet separating us from the jet.

Miraculously, he hit the fuselage about midpoint and was somehow able to cling to the smooth metallic surface. Turning himself around, he straddled the fighter and inched his way forward until he was positioned just behind the canopy. Then, gripping two small handles that I hadn't seen before, Rockstar gave a tug and remotely activated the ejection seat. With a violent burst, the canopy came away from the plane. Half a heartbeat later, the empty pilot's seat erupted upwards, climbing for a few moments before the chute deployed. I quickly lost sight of it as we left it far behind.

Knowing we had little time left to avert a potential disaster, Alec and I jumped as well. I suppose I should have been terrified, jumping out the back of an airplane without a parachute, hoping to hit what seemed an impossibly small target, but it all happened too fast. Before I knew it, I was standing on the wing of the fighter, looking at the profile of Mr. Baldwin and wondering how his hair stayed so perfectly still as we screamed through the sky. Come to think of it, should I have been able to stand up and walk along that wing without the airflow ripping me from it and sending my body tumbling to the ground far, far below? Probably not, but I didn't have time to think about it. We still had a plane to land.

I climbed into the cockpit and situated myself on the floor. Without the seat, I wasn't able to sit high enough to see out the front of the plane, but the wind whipping in my eyes probably would have prevented me from seeing anything anyway, even if it didn't blow Alec Baldwin's hair out of place. So, gripping the flight yoke, I disengaged the autopilot and, using instruments alone, settled the fighter into a level course.

As I got everything under control, Rockstar and Alec climbed into the cockpit as well, one on either side of me. While trying to stay focused on the little floating ball with the white line that told me I wasn't about to flip the plane over, it crossed my mind that the inside of the jet had quite a bit of elbow room, considering we were sitting three abreast, much like Cylons from the old Battlestar Galactica series. Being the experienced pilot that I somehow sensed he was, Rockstar began barking out orders and Alec jumped to flip various switches and turn assorted dials in response to his instructions. Working together like a well-oiled machine (but not in the homo-erotic sense), the three of us were on the verge of landing the plane and saving the day.

Suddenly, the cockpit was filled with a raucous noise that threatened to break my concentration. I turned to find out were the sound was coming from and realized it was chatter from my headset. No... Wait. Not from my headset. It was coming from the radio...

...on my nightstand.

Time for this Fly Boy to hit the showers and get ready for work.

Simple Pleasures

2005-10-01T12:17:00.000-06:00

I like my toast made with 100% whole wheat bread, lightly toasted so it has that nice, crispy exterior with a core of breadiness to it. Then, I slop on a healthy helping of margarine, spread to all corners so as to avoid any dry spots. Sometimes this is good enough for me, as is... But, more often, I like to put a thin layer of pasteurized honey on for flavor. Barring that, there's always the old standby: Peanut Butter. There's nothing quite like 6 slices done this way and washed down with a hot cup of black coffee as a late Saturday morning snack...

Just thought you might like to know.

Incidentally, thanks again to Mrs. Joe for the new toaster...