so i'm seated on the bathurst 7 northbound this afternoon, and i've got my two-year-old asleep in (on?) my lap, and i can't move an inch because as i've just stated, i've got my two-year-old, my 36-pound two-year-old, asleep in (on?) my lap. and i'm hunkered down in a chair with my back to the window, near the rear of the bus. and at that very moment, a woman sits down in the chair in front of me and to my right. her seat is facing the front of the bus. while my seat is perpendicular to her seat. which means that her back is facing my side. my right side.
and so, at this stage, you might be asking yourself, uh, so, what's the point? well, the point is this: the woman who took that seat to my right just happened to be endowed with perhaps the most voluminous head of hair this reporter has ever seen. and when i say voluminous, i mean voluminous, baby. talk about your wall of hair. this woman had hair to spare. it was long, it was frizzy, it was jagged. it was also obvious that it had been dyed recently, as the hue was certainly something unknown to mankind. but most importantly, it was touching my right shoulder. yes, that's right. you heard me correctly. her hair was touching my right shoulder.
now make no mistake... i am no germaphobe. i don't wear rubber gloves in the kitchen. i don't scrub my hands 82 times a day. i don't own shares in purell's parent company. why, i still enjoy the occasional sneeze into my cupped hands every now and again. but at the same time, her hair was touching my shoulder. my shoulder. her hair. on my shoulder. shoulder.
and so, at this stage, you might still be asking yourself, uh, so, what's the point? well, the point is this: i had a 36-pound baby in (on?) my lap. a sleeping 36-pound baby. i couldn't move an inch. hell, i could barely feel my legs. and all the while, the woman to my right had unintentionally draped her hair over my right shoulder.
it's a miracle i lived to talk about it.
"why'd i cut my hair? well, it is easier to wash now." - anonymous
hair bands once ruled the earth... like the dinosaur
Saturday, September 18, 2010
what's a girl to believe
if you think about, it's a miracle that anyone can make it through a lifetime with even a hint of sanity left inside. 'cause if you think about it, as i often do, the amount of advice and guidance unloaded on vulnerable minds, like my daughter's, is probably more than most can bear. and so, i am left to wonder, how can anyone sort through all of that information and come to a sensible conclusion as to who to believe and who to dismiss?
in my daughter's case, i know that i have probably spent the better part of the last four years, from the time she could speak, providing her with some of the hard lessons that life has taught me. sometimes i am blunt, sometimes i am guarded in my delivery. the problem, of course, is that her mother has also spent the last four years doing the same, as have her grandparents, her teachers, her friends, and many others. and so, once again, i am left to wonder, how can anyone sort through all of that information and come to a sensible conclusion as to who to believe and who to dismiss?
in the end, i suppose it will be my daughter's decision as to the direction she takes over the course of her lifetime. but i still struggle with the approach i have taken thus far in terms of her upbringing. sometimes i wish i could jump ahead fifteen years into her future and view the fruits of my labour. then i could take what i have learned, crawl back into my time machine, and mend my ways for the benefit of her development. but even then, i would still represent only one solitary voice in the overall promotion of her character. and so, once again, i am left to wonder, how can anyone sort through all of that information and come to a sensible conclusion as to who to believe and who to dismiss? i know i can't.
"hey, i did my best, kid." - anonymous
ladies and gentlemen, pearl jam
in my daughter's case, i know that i have probably spent the better part of the last four years, from the time she could speak, providing her with some of the hard lessons that life has taught me. sometimes i am blunt, sometimes i am guarded in my delivery. the problem, of course, is that her mother has also spent the last four years doing the same, as have her grandparents, her teachers, her friends, and many others. and so, once again, i am left to wonder, how can anyone sort through all of that information and come to a sensible conclusion as to who to believe and who to dismiss?
in the end, i suppose it will be my daughter's decision as to the direction she takes over the course of her lifetime. but i still struggle with the approach i have taken thus far in terms of her upbringing. sometimes i wish i could jump ahead fifteen years into her future and view the fruits of my labour. then i could take what i have learned, crawl back into my time machine, and mend my ways for the benefit of her development. but even then, i would still represent only one solitary voice in the overall promotion of her character. and so, once again, i am left to wonder, how can anyone sort through all of that information and come to a sensible conclusion as to who to believe and who to dismiss? i know i can't.
"hey, i did my best, kid." - anonymous
ladies and gentlemen, pearl jam
Friday, September 17, 2010
sometimes the truth is so obvious
"be an opener of doors for such as come after thee.” - ralph waldo emerson
i'd rather have too much on my plate than too much time on my hands. 'cause when i'm busy, and i'm doing something i love, i don't really feel busy at all. i feel productive. and as the days grow shorter with each passing day, i feel like i'm slowly getting back into the swing of things. this past summer was a long one for me. so much happened. yet i accomplished so little. of use, that is.
but today, for the first time in a long time, i could sense progress. like the effort was finally starting to pay off. like the effort was finally starting to lead to good results. i may not have said this before, but these days i measure my progress by the progress of others. and today i sensed real progress in others. again and again and again.
"don't wait until everything is just right. it will never be perfect. there will always be challenges, obstacles and less than perfect conditions. so what. get started now. with each step you take, you will grow stronger and stronger, more and more skilled, more and more self-confident and more and more successful.” - mark victor hansen
exhale
i'd rather have too much on my plate than too much time on my hands. 'cause when i'm busy, and i'm doing something i love, i don't really feel busy at all. i feel productive. and as the days grow shorter with each passing day, i feel like i'm slowly getting back into the swing of things. this past summer was a long one for me. so much happened. yet i accomplished so little. of use, that is.
but today, for the first time in a long time, i could sense progress. like the effort was finally starting to pay off. like the effort was finally starting to lead to good results. i may not have said this before, but these days i measure my progress by the progress of others. and today i sensed real progress in others. again and again and again.
"don't wait until everything is just right. it will never be perfect. there will always be challenges, obstacles and less than perfect conditions. so what. get started now. with each step you take, you will grow stronger and stronger, more and more skilled, more and more self-confident and more and more successful.” - mark victor hansen
exhale
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
here fishy fishy
sardines in a can. mmmm. tastes good. smells bad.
of course, you can't really argue with the health benefits of sardines. especially when they're bathed in spring water, like the ones i normally purchase. they are, after all, a good source of iron, calcium and omega-3 polyunsaturates. not to mention an excellent source of protein, vitamin d and selenium. yes, selenium. whatever the hell that is.
but did i mention the smell? for it has been duly noted that the smell of sardines can be a tad off-putting to some. well, to all, to be more precise. even to those who actually enjoy the occasional container of oily, headless fish.
so here's the thing. when you finally muster up the courage to dig into a can of sardines, you have to keep one thing in mind. the moment one of those bite-sized aquatic vertebrates makes contact with the outside world, be it your counter top or your kitchen table or even the plate on which you serve them, you're in for a rough ride. how come? because once the distinctive odour of a sardine attaches itself to an item in your home, there ain't nothing, and i mean nothing, that is going to obliterate that odour. not windex, not ajax, not even the most powerful scouring pad on the planet is going to make a difference at that point. uh-uh. cause once it's on, oh it's on, baby.
and i should know. because about three weeks ago, i made the grievous error of spilling a little sardine juice onto my living room carpet. the upshot? three weeks and twelve s.o.s. pads later, i can still detect the nerve gas-like stench of sardines the moment i step off the elevator on my floor. that, my dear, is one powerful fish in a can.
so what's a single-minded sardine aficionado to do? simple? you just have to play by the rules if you want to win this war.
rule one, avoid the good silverware when handling sardines. i find that plastic cutlery works just as well and because it's also disposable, you can remove any evidence of the salty pilchard with one simple trip to the garbage chute. ignore this rule and your dinner guests will be commenting on the mysterious odour emanating from their fork or knife for years to come.
rule two, better to place the can on several layers of tissues or napkins while snacking on the silvery side dish. that way, in the event of spillage, you've already created a buffer zone between the wayward gill-breather and your eating surface.
and finally, rule three, whenever possible, endeavour to ingest your cold-blooded neighbours in the absence of your fellow warm-blooded compatriots. that is to say, make every effort to dine alone. focus is key when attempting to devour the slippery sardine species so do your best to keep any distractions to a minimum. after all, the last thing you need is a chunk of dead aqua life surreptitiously sneaking its way onto your floor. personally i prefer retiring to my bedroom with canned fish in hand so that i can enjoy a little peace and quiet while i concentrate on my dining technique. but that's just me.
that's not an extended 12" mix, that's a broken record
of course, you can't really argue with the health benefits of sardines. especially when they're bathed in spring water, like the ones i normally purchase. they are, after all, a good source of iron, calcium and omega-3 polyunsaturates. not to mention an excellent source of protein, vitamin d and selenium. yes, selenium. whatever the hell that is.
but did i mention the smell? for it has been duly noted that the smell of sardines can be a tad off-putting to some. well, to all, to be more precise. even to those who actually enjoy the occasional container of oily, headless fish.
so here's the thing. when you finally muster up the courage to dig into a can of sardines, you have to keep one thing in mind. the moment one of those bite-sized aquatic vertebrates makes contact with the outside world, be it your counter top or your kitchen table or even the plate on which you serve them, you're in for a rough ride. how come? because once the distinctive odour of a sardine attaches itself to an item in your home, there ain't nothing, and i mean nothing, that is going to obliterate that odour. not windex, not ajax, not even the most powerful scouring pad on the planet is going to make a difference at that point. uh-uh. cause once it's on, oh it's on, baby.
and i should know. because about three weeks ago, i made the grievous error of spilling a little sardine juice onto my living room carpet. the upshot? three weeks and twelve s.o.s. pads later, i can still detect the nerve gas-like stench of sardines the moment i step off the elevator on my floor. that, my dear, is one powerful fish in a can.
so what's a single-minded sardine aficionado to do? simple? you just have to play by the rules if you want to win this war.
rule one, avoid the good silverware when handling sardines. i find that plastic cutlery works just as well and because it's also disposable, you can remove any evidence of the salty pilchard with one simple trip to the garbage chute. ignore this rule and your dinner guests will be commenting on the mysterious odour emanating from their fork or knife for years to come.
rule two, better to place the can on several layers of tissues or napkins while snacking on the silvery side dish. that way, in the event of spillage, you've already created a buffer zone between the wayward gill-breather and your eating surface.
and finally, rule three, whenever possible, endeavour to ingest your cold-blooded neighbours in the absence of your fellow warm-blooded compatriots. that is to say, make every effort to dine alone. focus is key when attempting to devour the slippery sardine species so do your best to keep any distractions to a minimum. after all, the last thing you need is a chunk of dead aqua life surreptitiously sneaking its way onto your floor. personally i prefer retiring to my bedroom with canned fish in hand so that i can enjoy a little peace and quiet while i concentrate on my dining technique. but that's just me.
that's not an extended 12" mix, that's a broken record
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
maybe
as some of you already know, i've tried to encourage my eldest to participate in a variety of sports since she was barely a tadpole. so far i've tried baseball and basketball and soccer and tennis. hell, i've even tried golf once. but she just never seemed to take to any of those sports. those sports closest to my heart. she just never seemed to take any joy from them. and so, despite my best efforts, my sincerest efforts, she would always find one reason or another to beg out of practice early. to take a breather. to take a short rest. a short rest that would inevitably extend into hours. yet being the eternal optimist that i am, i never lost hope.
and then, earlier today, something magical unfolded at the park around the corner from my place. but first, a little background information. this morning at the breakfast table, my daughter informed me that she was interested in joining her school's cross country team. they have a cross country team for seven-year-olds at your school?, i asked. yes, she responded, and for eight-year-olds and nine-year-olds and ten-year-olds, too. she then inquired as to whether i could help her train for the try-outs scheduled for tomorrow at 8 a.m. uh, yeah, i blurted out, barely able to contain my enthusiasm.
and so, when i arrived home from work today, i told the kid to grab her sweats and sneakers and follow me to the aforementioned park around the block. to help you visualize the setting, you must imagine a tiny soccer pitch located on the property surrounded by a swath of small maple trees. once our stretching and warm-up exercises were completed, i went over the basics of running with her. you know, how to hold your head, how to position your arms, how to breathe, all that jazz. and then it was time to see her stuff.
i drew an invisible starting line in the dirt, told her to take her mark, and she was off. and you know what? with g-d as my witness, the kid can run. why, following her first circuit around the makeshift track, she was barely winded. i, on the other hand, was practically hyperventilating with excitement. and what's more, she even seemed to be enjoying herself, going so far as to suggest that she was actually having fun. do you wanna go for another spin?, i proposed. and before i knew it, she had already begun galloping around the ad hoc course for another go.
and here's the thing. normally when i try to introduce a new sport to my daughter, she responds with moderate to severe hesitation and stubbornness. but today, every time i attempted to show my daughter how to increase her stride or prolong her endurance, she seemed genuinely interested in what i was offering.
and as we finally left for home late this afternoon, i tried to explain to my child that a try-out meant some of the kids who wanted to join the team might not actually be selected to the squad. but quite frankly, the kid didn't seem too fazed by that caveat either. she even requested that i help her train again, tomorrow after school. but what if you don't make the team?, i posed to her delicately. so what?, she replied.
"any kid will run any errand for you if you ask at bedtime." - red skelton
somebody once asked, "could i spare some change for gas? i need to get myself away from this place."
p.s. she did play ball, and she was good, but she didn't love it. i did.
p.p.s. and by the way, she made the team.
and then, earlier today, something magical unfolded at the park around the corner from my place. but first, a little background information. this morning at the breakfast table, my daughter informed me that she was interested in joining her school's cross country team. they have a cross country team for seven-year-olds at your school?, i asked. yes, she responded, and for eight-year-olds and nine-year-olds and ten-year-olds, too. she then inquired as to whether i could help her train for the try-outs scheduled for tomorrow at 8 a.m. uh, yeah, i blurted out, barely able to contain my enthusiasm.
and so, when i arrived home from work today, i told the kid to grab her sweats and sneakers and follow me to the aforementioned park around the block. to help you visualize the setting, you must imagine a tiny soccer pitch located on the property surrounded by a swath of small maple trees. once our stretching and warm-up exercises were completed, i went over the basics of running with her. you know, how to hold your head, how to position your arms, how to breathe, all that jazz. and then it was time to see her stuff.
i drew an invisible starting line in the dirt, told her to take her mark, and she was off. and you know what? with g-d as my witness, the kid can run. why, following her first circuit around the makeshift track, she was barely winded. i, on the other hand, was practically hyperventilating with excitement. and what's more, she even seemed to be enjoying herself, going so far as to suggest that she was actually having fun. do you wanna go for another spin?, i proposed. and before i knew it, she had already begun galloping around the ad hoc course for another go.
and here's the thing. normally when i try to introduce a new sport to my daughter, she responds with moderate to severe hesitation and stubbornness. but today, every time i attempted to show my daughter how to increase her stride or prolong her endurance, she seemed genuinely interested in what i was offering.
and as we finally left for home late this afternoon, i tried to explain to my child that a try-out meant some of the kids who wanted to join the team might not actually be selected to the squad. but quite frankly, the kid didn't seem too fazed by that caveat either. she even requested that i help her train again, tomorrow after school. but what if you don't make the team?, i posed to her delicately. so what?, she replied.
"any kid will run any errand for you if you ask at bedtime." - red skelton
somebody once asked, "could i spare some change for gas? i need to get myself away from this place."
p.s. she did play ball, and she was good, but she didn't love it. i did.
p.p.s. and by the way, she made the team.
the shakes
oh, schnizzle. i knew this would happen eventually. my first craving. for salt, that is. it's been five weeks now. without salt, that is. i mean, i'm sure i've ingested a pinch or two of sodium here and there over the past five weeks. but nothing of any significance. and certainly nothing with any flavour. the flavour of salt. like the flavour of potato chips. and french fries. and chunky chicken soup. and frozen mushroom pizza. i'm talking 300% of one's recommended daily intake of sodium here. the salt that satisfies. the salt one can taste. it started about thirty minutes ago. first i could see the salt. then i could smell the salt. and finally i could taste the salt. yes, right now, as i am typing, i can actually taste the salt. mostly i am envisioning potato chips. tiny bite-sized potato chips dancing about my brain. it's been five weeks after all. and i certainly miss my old friends. like any loyal friend would. but for the most part, i haven't really thought about them too much. until now, that is. i'm reminded of my pregnant wife. and the ice cream. the midnight ice cream run during her first pregnancy. she said it was beyond her control. and i'm reminded of our childhood cat. hollywood. because my brother had a thing for the west coast. and hollywood had a thing for our hands. the salt of our hands. quick. i need a distraction. how about the blog? yes, the blog may just suffice. breathe. breathe. type. type. what about the window? what about the stars? the stars in the night sky. pretty, yes. but do they possess the necessary pull? and do i possess the necessary degree of self-control? time will tell.
thank g-d for f5
thank g-d for f5
Saturday, September 11, 2010
analogy
about six years ago this week, i suffered a serious back injury that caused me to miss the first eight weeks of school. those of you who know me understand that i tend not to take too many days off due to illness, so obviously this was no ordinary back injury.
what happened? while moving a window air conditioning unit, i somehow managed to herniate four discs in my lower spine. as a result, i was unable to straighten my back for the better part of two months.
i'm sure you've seen those unfortunate, mostly elderly persons bent over at an almost 90 degree angle as they struggle to make their way down the street. well, six years ago, that unfortunate elderly person was me.
accordingly, i was left a near invalid as i could not stand upright for more than a second or two without experiencing excruciating pain. it was almost comical, to be frank. a grown man forced to lie on his back while the sand slipped through the hourglass day after day after day. in fact, the only time i had occasion to rise to my feet during that dark stretch was to frequent the facilities or to take an occasional bath, with a visit or two to my doctor's office thrown in for good measure. but mostly i just sat on my couch with my feet up and grimaced.
similarly, today i spent the entire day cooped up indoors tending to my sick child. she has a mild temperature and so i decided to keep her inside until her fever runs its course. and because my wife spent the day volunteering at the local film festival, i have yet to taste the fresh air as of 8:39 this evening. i'm not complaining, mind you, but rather just pointing out what i've been up to for the past 12 hours or so.
and so, as i sat on my couch watching my sixth episode of "the backyardigans" this afternoon, i couldn't help but recall that eight-week blue period back in the day. that eight-week spell when i remained shuttered within my home practically every moment of the day due to my injury.
but more importantly, i recall that saturday morning in late october nearly six years ago when i stepped outside on a cool, breezy day and took my first tentative steps towards my rehabilitation. that was the first time i had enjoyed a leisurely stroll since my accident, and i distinctly recall the feeling of complete and utter satisfaction that washed over me as i shuffled my way up and down my street. and the feeling of complete and utter exuberance that enveloped me as i took in all the sights and sounds of my neighbourhood once again.
the point to all this? the other day i met with some truly extraordinary individuals and tried to explain why it is so important to accomplish as many things as possible within our limited run here on earth. i should have simply told them this story.
so trite that it hardly bears repeating
p.s. i did try acupuncture. and physiotherapy. and a chiropractor. and meditation. nothing worked. except time.
what happened? while moving a window air conditioning unit, i somehow managed to herniate four discs in my lower spine. as a result, i was unable to straighten my back for the better part of two months.
i'm sure you've seen those unfortunate, mostly elderly persons bent over at an almost 90 degree angle as they struggle to make their way down the street. well, six years ago, that unfortunate elderly person was me.
accordingly, i was left a near invalid as i could not stand upright for more than a second or two without experiencing excruciating pain. it was almost comical, to be frank. a grown man forced to lie on his back while the sand slipped through the hourglass day after day after day. in fact, the only time i had occasion to rise to my feet during that dark stretch was to frequent the facilities or to take an occasional bath, with a visit or two to my doctor's office thrown in for good measure. but mostly i just sat on my couch with my feet up and grimaced.
similarly, today i spent the entire day cooped up indoors tending to my sick child. she has a mild temperature and so i decided to keep her inside until her fever runs its course. and because my wife spent the day volunteering at the local film festival, i have yet to taste the fresh air as of 8:39 this evening. i'm not complaining, mind you, but rather just pointing out what i've been up to for the past 12 hours or so.
and so, as i sat on my couch watching my sixth episode of "the backyardigans" this afternoon, i couldn't help but recall that eight-week blue period back in the day. that eight-week spell when i remained shuttered within my home practically every moment of the day due to my injury.
but more importantly, i recall that saturday morning in late october nearly six years ago when i stepped outside on a cool, breezy day and took my first tentative steps towards my rehabilitation. that was the first time i had enjoyed a leisurely stroll since my accident, and i distinctly recall the feeling of complete and utter satisfaction that washed over me as i shuffled my way up and down my street. and the feeling of complete and utter exuberance that enveloped me as i took in all the sights and sounds of my neighbourhood once again.
the point to all this? the other day i met with some truly extraordinary individuals and tried to explain why it is so important to accomplish as many things as possible within our limited run here on earth. i should have simply told them this story.
so trite that it hardly bears repeating
p.s. i did try acupuncture. and physiotherapy. and a chiropractor. and meditation. nothing worked. except time.
best line of the day
teacher: where were you yesterday?
student: at a laws conference.
teacher: did they feed you, at least?
student: yes, as a matter of fact, they did.
teacher: really? hot or cold?
student: both.
teacher: oh, yeah? what was the hot dish?
student: uh, toast.
memories of summers past at jackson's point
student: at a laws conference.
teacher: did they feed you, at least?
student: yes, as a matter of fact, they did.
teacher: really? hot or cold?
student: both.
teacher: oh, yeah? what was the hot dish?
student: uh, toast.
memories of summers past at jackson's point
Friday, September 10, 2010
we to me
the other day i came home only to find that my daughters were at each other's throats once again. i say "once again" because this has become a fairly regular occurrence around these parts in recent months. what were they fighting about? um, does it really matter? they're sisters. they fight about anything and everything. big stuff and little stuff. important stuff and trivial stuff. you name it, they fight over it.
truth be told though, i was beginning to get a little worried about all of the squabbling of late. after all, the two treated each other with utmost respect and admiration (sort of) up until about six months ago or so. then everything started to change. and fast. i think it may have had something to do with two's sudden ability to verbalize her feelings. and especially her sudden ability to verbalize the word "mine." i mean, what is it about siblings and possessiveness? when did everything suddenly go from a "we" to a "me"?
(editor's note: what the hell is happening on "the vampire diaries" right now? i hear some pretty disturbing sounds going down just behind me.)
now you may have noticed that i said "i was beginning to get a little worried" in the preceding paragraph. the reason i used the past tense is due to the fact that on monday night, i caught the debut episode of the classic family sitcom "the cosby show" on cts. in the premiere episode, mother huxtable laments the fact that her children always seem to be at each other's throats. sounds familiar? hmmm.
and so, thanks to one of the most popular television comedies of all time, my mind was put at ease, at least somewhat. at least temporarily. funny how seeing one's problems reflected in the lives of others puts it all in perspective, huh?
"sisters are different flowers from the same garden." - author unknown
on and on and on and on
truth be told though, i was beginning to get a little worried about all of the squabbling of late. after all, the two treated each other with utmost respect and admiration (sort of) up until about six months ago or so. then everything started to change. and fast. i think it may have had something to do with two's sudden ability to verbalize her feelings. and especially her sudden ability to verbalize the word "mine." i mean, what is it about siblings and possessiveness? when did everything suddenly go from a "we" to a "me"?
(editor's note: what the hell is happening on "the vampire diaries" right now? i hear some pretty disturbing sounds going down just behind me.)
now you may have noticed that i said "i was beginning to get a little worried" in the preceding paragraph. the reason i used the past tense is due to the fact that on monday night, i caught the debut episode of the classic family sitcom "the cosby show" on cts. in the premiere episode, mother huxtable laments the fact that her children always seem to be at each other's throats. sounds familiar? hmmm.
and so, thanks to one of the most popular television comedies of all time, my mind was put at ease, at least somewhat. at least temporarily. funny how seeing one's problems reflected in the lives of others puts it all in perspective, huh?
"sisters are different flowers from the same garden." - author unknown
on and on and on and on
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