There’s an ice cream truck that circulates in our neighbourhood on sunny summer days, which typically causes one of two reactions in the general adult public. Reaction 1: nostalgic tears spring to your eyes as you lean out onto your doorstep to watch the neighbourhood children toddle after the slow-moving musical freezer on wheels, a loonie clutched in their sweaty little hands. Reaction 2: you try to fling yourself off of the highest altitude location in your residence to stop the ear-piercing agony of the Piano Man Re-mix: fucked-up boogaloo.
In our house, the typical reaction is that Paul’s head snaps up and (I swear) his ears perk up like a hound on the hot scent of a criminal. The words ‘ice cream truck’ leap unbidden to his lips and he’s at least four steps towards the door before he comes to his senses. I typically start laughing, not at Paul, but at the fond memories of my post-university roommate’s ongoing battle with the ice-cream truck.
We lived together on the 9th floor of a University area high-rise apartment complex which the ice-cream trucks frequented regularly (the street out front, not our 9th floor apartment). Doug was a textbook reaction type 1: nostalgic joy and the burning desire for just one more Rocket Popsicle frozen to his lips to cap off his summer experience. I was more type 2: “Does that bloody thing have to drive so slowly? Surely it must be out of earshot by now!”
The first time we heard that haunting Piano-man remix, Doug checked his pocket for change and wandered to the elevator. I didn’t even look up from my book. He was back within minutes empty handed. “I couldn’t hear it anymore from the main doors.” The second time the truck went past, Doug dove for his change and sprinted for the stairs. I sauntered out onto the balcony to watch him chase the snail’s-pace treats down the street. Sure enough, the truck was out of sight by the time he reached the road. He returned to the apartment empty handed, strategizing for the next appearance. There was a third performance, later in the season, but as before he came no closer to attaining frozen treat nirvana. From then on, when the ice cream truck went past Doug would just go out onto the balcony to shake his fist and mutter obscenities in its general direction.
Most people mature a bit after University but with the help of the ice cream man Doug went straight from carefree youth to crotchety old curmudgeon. At least that’s my best explanation and I'm sticking to it.(Happy Birthday Doug!)
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Inspired
I was informed at work today that I have inspired my coworker to wear sweater-vests. I'm not really sure how to take this. It's not like I inspired her to write the great Canadian novel or to travel the world or help others. But then it's not like I inspired her to do coke or slit her wrists either. I guess inspiration just isn't my superpower.
Monday, January 21, 2008
WWF meets WWF
It's been a hockey couple of days.
On Saturday night we went to watch a Panda's game at the U. It was a choir alumni event and we were booked into the "skybox". For 5 bucks, we got our game tickets, pizza, pop, munchies, door prizes and cheap booze. Not bad at all for a Saturday night. We were left wondering why on earth we didn't do this when we were students. It was a good game. We won 5-2 and scored an empty net goal in the last 8 seconds.
The game was against the Winnipeg Bison and we're the Pandas. Of course this match up had me speculating when on earth bison and pandas would come in contact without the intervention of man and what would happen if they did. It was a case of WWF meets WWF: World Wildlife Fund meets World Wrestling Federation. I was of the opinion that the bison would take the panda easily, while Paul said that the Panda could just take a bamboo shoot and stick it between the bison's legs, just like shoving it into the spokes on a bicycle. I maintain that even taking into account the use of tools the bison would prevail. Having worked with bison I have a more than healthy respect for their power (I saw an experienced worker get gored through the shoulder despite the chute and cattle prod.) We then debated a match up between a polar bear and a bison (polar bear wins), brown bear and bison (bison wins), a grizzly and a bison (tie). Really we should have been speculating about why our team is called the Pandas when Pandas are indiginous to China.
Tonight was my first hockey game in a year. I injured my wrist in January and so was out for that term, then I injured my foot and was out for fall term. I was pleasantly surprised with how well my foot held up; I was able to play the entire game. It took me a while to get used to playing again but after a few shifts it all started coming back to me. I missed both the physical activity and the team environment. It's good to be back.
On Saturday night we went to watch a Panda's game at the U. It was a choir alumni event and we were booked into the "skybox". For 5 bucks, we got our game tickets, pizza, pop, munchies, door prizes and cheap booze. Not bad at all for a Saturday night. We were left wondering why on earth we didn't do this when we were students. It was a good game. We won 5-2 and scored an empty net goal in the last 8 seconds.
The game was against the Winnipeg Bison and we're the Pandas. Of course this match up had me speculating when on earth bison and pandas would come in contact without the intervention of man and what would happen if they did. It was a case of WWF meets WWF: World Wildlife Fund meets World Wrestling Federation. I was of the opinion that the bison would take the panda easily, while Paul said that the Panda could just take a bamboo shoot and stick it between the bison's legs, just like shoving it into the spokes on a bicycle. I maintain that even taking into account the use of tools the bison would prevail. Having worked with bison I have a more than healthy respect for their power (I saw an experienced worker get gored through the shoulder despite the chute and cattle prod.) We then debated a match up between a polar bear and a bison (polar bear wins), brown bear and bison (bison wins), a grizzly and a bison (tie). Really we should have been speculating about why our team is called the Pandas when Pandas are indiginous to China.
Tonight was my first hockey game in a year. I injured my wrist in January and so was out for that term, then I injured my foot and was out for fall term. I was pleasantly surprised with how well my foot held up; I was able to play the entire game. It took me a while to get used to playing again but after a few shifts it all started coming back to me. I missed both the physical activity and the team environment. It's good to be back.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Valiant Monkey
Last week we went for lunch with Doug before his flight. After lunch, I noticed that our driver's side lock looked a bit funny. Sure enough someone had broken into our car. The contents of the console and glove box were strewn about; the change from the Monkey Pit* (about $10) and our pink card were missing. We got off incredibly easy since all of Doug's luggage was in the trunk, including his backpack and iPod.
The whole incident was filled with irony. Firstly, we lived roughly two blocks from there for 2.5 years without ever having a problem, even though I left my car unlocked on more than one occasion (unless you're a mechanic there is no way you can steal my car, nor would anyone want to) and yet the first time we returned to the area someone broke in. Secondly, everyone warned us about the perils of moving to Millwoods. We haven't had a single problem here but back by Southgate we got robbed. Thirdly, Paul has been searching for his cell phone headset since April. Somehow the thief managed to find it and leave it conveniently on the seat. We searched for 9 months and didn't find it, the thief randomly pulled things out for 5 minutes and did. He actually saved us 20 bucks.
Had it just been the small change we would likely have shrugged off the incident, but the missing pink card added a new dimension to the issue. What can be done with a pink card? Well, the police pointed out that it is usually taken for identity theft purposes, although I don't really know what you can get with just our insurance information and address. Secondly, it includes our full address and since we were out, the thief would know that we were out and could therefore feel free to burgle** our place. We rushed home to see if this was the case, but again we were lucky.
I had trouble sleeping that night, tossing and turning and starting awake. I was left with a vulnerability, a sense that security was lost; someone had pawed through part our lives and taken what they wanted with unknown motivation. The car felt dirty and tainted and so did I, by association. It surprised me that such a small loss, coupled with the potential for much greater violation, had such an emotional impact. It's taken a while for that security to return; some areas still feel stained and I'm uncomfortable when forced to touch them. They're like a bruise on the psyche, not a lasting damage but a real one nonetheless.
* Years ago, Kaley was in the car with one of her toys, a banana full of plush monkeys. One of the monkeys got left behind and Paul stuck it in his ashtray with the spare change, so when searching for change we would say, "check in the monkey". Loanly, our newer vehicle, has a little pit with a lidded bin where we keep both the change and the monkey***, hence: The Monkey Pit.
** "Burgle" is a funny word, don't you think?
**Fortunately the thief took the money and left behind the monkey, though his ear was torn in the struggle to defend his home. Valiant monkey.
The whole incident was filled with irony. Firstly, we lived roughly two blocks from there for 2.5 years without ever having a problem, even though I left my car unlocked on more than one occasion (unless you're a mechanic there is no way you can steal my car, nor would anyone want to) and yet the first time we returned to the area someone broke in. Secondly, everyone warned us about the perils of moving to Millwoods. We haven't had a single problem here but back by Southgate we got robbed. Thirdly, Paul has been searching for his cell phone headset since April. Somehow the thief managed to find it and leave it conveniently on the seat. We searched for 9 months and didn't find it, the thief randomly pulled things out for 5 minutes and did. He actually saved us 20 bucks.
Had it just been the small change we would likely have shrugged off the incident, but the missing pink card added a new dimension to the issue. What can be done with a pink card? Well, the police pointed out that it is usually taken for identity theft purposes, although I don't really know what you can get with just our insurance information and address. Secondly, it includes our full address and since we were out, the thief would know that we were out and could therefore feel free to burgle** our place. We rushed home to see if this was the case, but again we were lucky.
I had trouble sleeping that night, tossing and turning and starting awake. I was left with a vulnerability, a sense that security was lost; someone had pawed through part our lives and taken what they wanted with unknown motivation. The car felt dirty and tainted and so did I, by association. It surprised me that such a small loss, coupled with the potential for much greater violation, had such an emotional impact. It's taken a while for that security to return; some areas still feel stained and I'm uncomfortable when forced to touch them. They're like a bruise on the psyche, not a lasting damage but a real one nonetheless.
* Years ago, Kaley was in the car with one of her toys, a banana full of plush monkeys. One of the monkeys got left behind and Paul stuck it in his ashtray with the spare change, so when searching for change we would say, "check in the monkey". Loanly, our newer vehicle, has a little pit with a lidded bin where we keep both the change and the monkey***, hence: The Monkey Pit.
** "Burgle" is a funny word, don't you think?
**Fortunately the thief took the money and left behind the monkey, though his ear was torn in the struggle to defend his home. Valiant monkey.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Momentum
Our New Year’s party included the traditional burning of regrets and tying wishes to the hope tree. This year, I had no regrets to burn. There are many things that I regretted, particularly work related, but I’m not in any way ready to let go of them yet. There were things that I should regret, particularly in the past couple of months, but I don’t and I refuse to feel bad about it because I’m already seeing how much good will come from them. I did have a list for the hope tree, starting with the fervent wish that my brother’s girlfriend will beat cancer, and while there are things that I hope for myself and the rest of my family and friends, everything pales in comparison to that.
Now, poised in this moment of stillness at the beginning of a fresh new year, I’m in a different mental space. I don’t in any way feel compelled to compile a traditional ‘New Year’s Resolution’ post. Instead, I give you a list of what I do not resolve:
- There will be no resolution of personal wellness as there is no point: I woke up sick this morning, having succumbed to whatever Ivy brought back from Porto Vallarta.
- There will be no resolution of weight loss: I have already been losing weight thanks to a change of attitude, a change of body chemistry, and a change of environment. (I can’t even measure this change since the battery in the scale died last night and the hell if I know where the batteries are packed.)
- There will be no financial resolution: we will just keep chipping away at the mountain that is our mortgage. Right now all of our debt is good debt and hopefully my car limps along for another year so that the situation stays that way.
If I were forced to make a resolution (Really, who would do that? Hands up! Give me all your resolutions!) it would be to do more things that make me happy. This is more of a change in attitude than a resolution. I do far too many things that make me miserable; why on earth would I do that? Possibly because I think they are expected of me and I don’t know how to say no, or more likely because I live my life on the basis of delayed gratification. My actions reveal that for some reason I believe if I work hard and suffer deeply things will be that much better for me in the future, that there’s some hidden scale that will balance out in the end. Since I don’t really believe in an afterlife, I’m not really sure what I’m waiting for. I’m living for the future, but I don’t really know why. Doing what makes me happy sounds like a selfish goal, but if you know me you will realize that it’s not. I donate, I volunteer, I organize events for large groups to donate and volunteer, I’m responsible, dedicated and I like to make people happy. The good of the world makes me feel good, so why not be guided by what makes everyone feel a little better year-round?
No resolution of change is required for this year because I am already in motion toward change. I am somehow altered on a fundamental and subconscious level, and I’m gaining momentum. I am more comfortable in my skin now, but less comfortable in my life. This inevitably leads to growth: keeping the core and shedding the restrictive exoskeleton.
Now, poised in this moment of stillness at the beginning of a fresh new year, I’m in a different mental space. I don’t in any way feel compelled to compile a traditional ‘New Year’s Resolution’ post. Instead, I give you a list of what I do not resolve:
- There will be no resolution of personal wellness as there is no point: I woke up sick this morning, having succumbed to whatever Ivy brought back from Porto Vallarta.
- There will be no resolution of weight loss: I have already been losing weight thanks to a change of attitude, a change of body chemistry, and a change of environment. (I can’t even measure this change since the battery in the scale died last night and the hell if I know where the batteries are packed.)
- There will be no financial resolution: we will just keep chipping away at the mountain that is our mortgage. Right now all of our debt is good debt and hopefully my car limps along for another year so that the situation stays that way.
If I were forced to make a resolution (Really, who would do that? Hands up! Give me all your resolutions!) it would be to do more things that make me happy. This is more of a change in attitude than a resolution. I do far too many things that make me miserable; why on earth would I do that? Possibly because I think they are expected of me and I don’t know how to say no, or more likely because I live my life on the basis of delayed gratification. My actions reveal that for some reason I believe if I work hard and suffer deeply things will be that much better for me in the future, that there’s some hidden scale that will balance out in the end. Since I don’t really believe in an afterlife, I’m not really sure what I’m waiting for. I’m living for the future, but I don’t really know why. Doing what makes me happy sounds like a selfish goal, but if you know me you will realize that it’s not. I donate, I volunteer, I organize events for large groups to donate and volunteer, I’m responsible, dedicated and I like to make people happy. The good of the world makes me feel good, so why not be guided by what makes everyone feel a little better year-round?
No resolution of change is required for this year because I am already in motion toward change. I am somehow altered on a fundamental and subconscious level, and I’m gaining momentum. I am more comfortable in my skin now, but less comfortable in my life. This inevitably leads to growth: keeping the core and shedding the restrictive exoskeleton.
Triple Threat
The end of the year found us with over 50 people packed into our new house to celebrate the Triple Threat of New Year's Eve, our housewarming and Paul's 30th birthday (at midnight we rolled over to both the new year and Debbie's 30th birthday).
Gary, Steve, Tara and Debbie hanging out in the living room.
The kitchen was full all night (possibly due to the chocolate fountain).
Gary played high-stakes go fish with Julia.
We had the Wii set up in the living room and the Xbox 360 in the basement (unfortunately neither of them are ours).
Contrary to appearances, Paul and Keith are swimming.
Paul's parents rocking the Guitar Hero.
Baby Tara loved our water wall.
Kristy played with Julia and Elena for a very long time. (Please ignore the dead body in the background, she was trying to stay out of the picture).
Jacob hung out with Doug.
Steve, Tara, Paul, me and Ira.
We received some very cool housewarming gifts, most notably the 'devil duck' from Melly and the Housewarming Kit from Tara and Steve (gift cards to HBC, Home Depot, IKEA, Earls, and movie passes in a giant jar of jelly beans).
We decided that Devil Duck could hang out with Literary Ninja Duck.
Happy New Year!
Somehow we jammed about 50 people in our living room/kitchen area at midnight. The photo doesn't do it justice.
Paul's chocolate cheesecake birthday cake (with Elf Poop decoration).
Debbie's ice cream cake, which turned out to be the bane of my existence. I didn't take it out of the deep freeze early enough and it took an hour to hack off 7 slices. I honed my technique and bruised my palm on that bastard. More than 10 people told me to put it in the microwave but I couldn't get it off of the styrofoam.
You can tell it was a good party because we ended up with frosting in unusual locations (this is just one example). Also, someone left behind an octopus that says "brown" in a Marvin the Paranoid Android voice. I'd say that by the end of the night our house was thoroughly warmed.
Gary, Steve, Tara and Debbie hanging out in the living room.
The kitchen was full all night (possibly due to the chocolate fountain).
Gary played high-stakes go fish with Julia.
We had the Wii set up in the living room and the Xbox 360 in the basement (unfortunately neither of them are ours).
Contrary to appearances, Paul and Keith are swimming.
Paul's parents rocking the Guitar Hero.
Baby Tara loved our water wall.
Kristy played with Julia and Elena for a very long time. (Please ignore the dead body in the background, she was trying to stay out of the picture).
Jacob hung out with Doug.
Steve, Tara, Paul, me and Ira.
We received some very cool housewarming gifts, most notably the 'devil duck' from Melly and the Housewarming Kit from Tara and Steve (gift cards to HBC, Home Depot, IKEA, Earls, and movie passes in a giant jar of jelly beans).
We decided that Devil Duck could hang out with Literary Ninja Duck.
Happy New Year!
Somehow we jammed about 50 people in our living room/kitchen area at midnight. The photo doesn't do it justice.
Paul's chocolate cheesecake birthday cake (with Elf Poop decoration).
Debbie's ice cream cake, which turned out to be the bane of my existence. I didn't take it out of the deep freeze early enough and it took an hour to hack off 7 slices. I honed my technique and bruised my palm on that bastard. More than 10 people told me to put it in the microwave but I couldn't get it off of the styrofoam.
You can tell it was a good party because we ended up with frosting in unusual locations (this is just one example). Also, someone left behind an octopus that says "brown" in a Marvin the Paranoid Android voice. I'd say that by the end of the night our house was thoroughly warmed.
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