Still working away like crazy. No time to talk. BPY had their softball playoffs yesterday. We won the first game, against the Bluenose Breakers, in a surprise 15–10 upset after two extra innings. In the second regular inning the score was 9–2 against us, so it felt pretty great to fight back so hard and prevail in the end. After that, we didn't even care that the Spacecats beat us into the ground. There was an end-of-the-season party at Steve's place.
Meg and KC's band, Bad Vibrations, as mentioned in the last post, rocked the rocks and blew some minds out at Peggy's Cove. Meg's drumming is so fantastic and right-foot-assured that her new nickname is "The Kick."
Gotta go watch The Amazing Race that we missed last night now.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Random Facts
It's starting to get cold here. The Lodge are going out for a big sushi dinner tomorrow night. Last weekend was our friend Krista's 40th birthday. I am so busy with freelance work I have no time to put my own marketing materials together. Alison and I have been watching TV interviews with John Lennon and Yoko Ono from the '70's. Dick Cavett is a good listener and charming host. Tom Snyder was neither. Sherman Hines has decided he doesn't feel like paying me for the two days I worked for him. Moby Dick is worth starting over from the beginning if you've gotten three quarters of the way through it and put it down for an extended period. A new film version of MB is being made here. David Foster Wallace killed himself over a year ago now. We went to a mediocre lecture about him at the library with our friends Ron and Kristina. On Thursdays we're taking a yoga class from our friend Gillian in her house. Last night I dreamed I was playing Scrabble with Neil Diamond. The night before, I dreamed I was walking around Montreal with Noam Chomsky. Tomorrow we're going to see our friends Meg and KC in their new band at an outdoor show in Polly Cove. Softball playoffs start the next day. I want to call my new business Fin Design. There's a goldfish pond in our backyard. I have to meet a new client now.
Friday, September 11, 2009
I'm Feeling Unlucky
Google has giant new buttons. With a giant search box and giant text. It's gross. I hate it. Please express appropriate disgust here.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Cancon on the Beach
I wanted to make a little right-hand column playlist out of this idea, but it's not working out with any of my song selections. I guess Canadian=obscure as far as iLike is concerned.
The thing is, we went camping a couple of days ago, at Thomas Raddall provincial park on the south shore, near Liverpool. It was beautiful and great to be out in the woods. The air got intensely cold at night, though, and it was hard to stay warm enough. Add to that the fact that we were using only thin yoga mats as padding between us and the rocky ground, and you've got a night full of crazy dreams punctuated by long bouts of staring into the blackness.
But so anyway, that was fine, and the campfire and hike in the morning warmed us up. We also went to one of the three beaches the park boasts, thinking we might go swimming, but there were no waves and it wasn't hot enough for that idea to seem refreshing. After we left the park, we drove to Carter's Beach in Port Mouton — and I know I keep digressing a lot but I simply have to tell you that it's pronounced muh-TOON, even though there's no way any English OR French person could possibly derive that pronunciation from that particular string of letters — which beach we'd been told is possibly the most beautiful in all of North America. Which caused us to temporarily wonder whether Hawaii is in North America, since it's part of the USA, but then we realized that continents, unlike countries, are not political areas but geographical ones, effectively dividing the world into its major land masses. Except then what's up with Europe and Asia? How does that division work?
So we went to Carter's with our swimming trunks and towels, and it was, in all fairness, quite beautiful. We couldn't even see all of it because you had to wade across a medium-deep stream to get from one section to the other, but there was a lot of bright white sand sheltered by gorgeous grassy dunes and descending into a clear azure pool the likes of which are usually only found behind high-priced tropical hotels. However, there were again no waves. I don't know why waves make a swim in the ocean so much more appealing as a prospect, but they do.
Then we noticed that a) there was no one else swimming, and, perhaps more tellingly, b) all the little kids at the other end of the beach with their youthful determination and their high insulating-fat-to-body-mass ratios were running full speed into the water, getting in just above their knees, hesitating, and running back out at least as fast, flailing their arms in a sort of panicked, shocked, and also disappointed way. A toe into the edge of the old crystal blue confirmed that there was no way in hell we would be approaching even that level.
So, we sat in our foldable Canada Day chairs (red with Canadian flags on the back, bought at Canadian Tire) and looked out at the icy water and the dense, scruffy evergreens populating its rocky shores, and I started thinking about what a different experience the beach may be to Canadians than it is to Americans. Our childhood television heroes are not the tanned and lovably spoiled youth of Beverly Hills 90210, but the nature-wise, pensive old scavengers of The Beachcombers. We have no Beach Boys singing about fun in the sun with their California Girls. Instead, a soundtrack to the Canadian beach would be a list of sad, introspective, and somewhat lonely songs:
Neil Young - On the Beach
Now I'm livin' out here on the beach
But those seagulls are still out of reach
Jane Siberry - Mimi on the Beach
If they pull you away from your bleaching pink surfboard
And stretch you across the wind
You'll make no sound
Martha and the Muffins - Echo Beach
On Echo Beach waves make the only sound
On Echo Beach there's not a soul around
The Inbreds - Whitecaps
Well I went to sleep
On the ocean floor
And I began to weep
My tears washed up onto the shore
Pukka Orchestra - The Cherry Beach Express
My ribs are broken and my face is in a mess
And my name on my statement signed under duress
The Super Friendz - Ocean Death Song
Remember when we walked along the sand
The castles washed away
Bruce Cockburn - Planet of the Clowns
As the waves roar on the beach like a squadron of F16's
Ebb and flow like the better days they say this world has seen
Gordon Lightfoot - Triangle
The mermaids have all gone to Davy Jones' ball
And it seems their first trip was their last
They had so much fun they don't wish to return
To the beach where they lay all day long
Sloan - The N.S.
We're following signs to the sea
So take your time
If you're leaving before me
And say goodbye
Honeymoon Suite - Wave Babies
When they lie with their tops undone
Cold water means a little bit of fun
OK, maybe that last one is a little more American in nature. Can anyone think of any others I'm missing?
The thing is, we went camping a couple of days ago, at Thomas Raddall provincial park on the south shore, near Liverpool. It was beautiful and great to be out in the woods. The air got intensely cold at night, though, and it was hard to stay warm enough. Add to that the fact that we were using only thin yoga mats as padding between us and the rocky ground, and you've got a night full of crazy dreams punctuated by long bouts of staring into the blackness.
But so anyway, that was fine, and the campfire and hike in the morning warmed us up. We also went to one of the three beaches the park boasts, thinking we might go swimming, but there were no waves and it wasn't hot enough for that idea to seem refreshing. After we left the park, we drove to Carter's Beach in Port Mouton — and I know I keep digressing a lot but I simply have to tell you that it's pronounced muh-TOON, even though there's no way any English OR French person could possibly derive that pronunciation from that particular string of letters — which beach we'd been told is possibly the most beautiful in all of North America. Which caused us to temporarily wonder whether Hawaii is in North America, since it's part of the USA, but then we realized that continents, unlike countries, are not political areas but geographical ones, effectively dividing the world into its major land masses. Except then what's up with Europe and Asia? How does that division work?
So we went to Carter's with our swimming trunks and towels, and it was, in all fairness, quite beautiful. We couldn't even see all of it because you had to wade across a medium-deep stream to get from one section to the other, but there was a lot of bright white sand sheltered by gorgeous grassy dunes and descending into a clear azure pool the likes of which are usually only found behind high-priced tropical hotels. However, there were again no waves. I don't know why waves make a swim in the ocean so much more appealing as a prospect, but they do.
Then we noticed that a) there was no one else swimming, and, perhaps more tellingly, b) all the little kids at the other end of the beach with their youthful determination and their high insulating-fat-to-body-mass ratios were running full speed into the water, getting in just above their knees, hesitating, and running back out at least as fast, flailing their arms in a sort of panicked, shocked, and also disappointed way. A toe into the edge of the old crystal blue confirmed that there was no way in hell we would be approaching even that level.
So, we sat in our foldable Canada Day chairs (red with Canadian flags on the back, bought at Canadian Tire) and looked out at the icy water and the dense, scruffy evergreens populating its rocky shores, and I started thinking about what a different experience the beach may be to Canadians than it is to Americans. Our childhood television heroes are not the tanned and lovably spoiled youth of Beverly Hills 90210, but the nature-wise, pensive old scavengers of The Beachcombers. We have no Beach Boys singing about fun in the sun with their California Girls. Instead, a soundtrack to the Canadian beach would be a list of sad, introspective, and somewhat lonely songs:
Neil Young - On the Beach
Now I'm livin' out here on the beach
But those seagulls are still out of reach
Jane Siberry - Mimi on the Beach
If they pull you away from your bleaching pink surfboard
And stretch you across the wind
You'll make no sound
Martha and the Muffins - Echo Beach
On Echo Beach waves make the only sound
On Echo Beach there's not a soul around
The Inbreds - Whitecaps
Well I went to sleep
On the ocean floor
And I began to weep
My tears washed up onto the shore
Pukka Orchestra - The Cherry Beach Express
My ribs are broken and my face is in a mess
And my name on my statement signed under duress
The Super Friendz - Ocean Death Song
Remember when we walked along the sand
The castles washed away
Bruce Cockburn - Planet of the Clowns
As the waves roar on the beach like a squadron of F16's
Ebb and flow like the better days they say this world has seen
Gordon Lightfoot - Triangle
The mermaids have all gone to Davy Jones' ball
And it seems their first trip was their last
They had so much fun they don't wish to return
To the beach where they lay all day long
Sloan - The N.S.
We're following signs to the sea
So take your time
If you're leaving before me
And say goodbye
Honeymoon Suite - Wave Babies
When they lie with their tops undone
Cold water means a little bit of fun
OK, maybe that last one is a little more American in nature. Can anyone think of any others I'm missing?
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Nintendo Jazz
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Back in the Saddle
Welp, we've made the move and are becoming nicely settled in our beautiful new apartment, thank you very much. We moved on the hottest day of the year, loading the U-Haul by ourselves at the Wolfville end.
Luckily, our friends Mike, Cliff, and Jesse helped us make light work of it at this end. The place is full of sunlight and storage space; has a big kitchen, high ceilings, a big deck, and hardwood floors; and is in a really pleasant little neighbourhood at an arm's length from the hubbub and hipsters of downtown. OK, maybe there are a few hipsters around...
Alison and I each have our own office. There's still a fair amount of stuff to be put away or on the walls, and we need a few more shelves, but so far it's working out really, really well. I've been getting a decent amount of design work to do from quite a few different sources, some of whom are telling their friends about me. On Friday I went back to Acadia to do a day's worth of little jobs for them onsite, at freelance rates, and pick up the files I'll need to finish off a couple of big projects I'd started before I left. There's barely been time, but I've also been trying to work on branding my own business so I can get some business cards out there, a website, etc. That's the real fun part.
On my first official day of freelancing, I set up my desk and computer and sat down to work on a couple of newspaper ads. Only the iMac wouldn't start up. I tried everything, but I couldn't get anything to appear on the monitor — not even a sad face or a little hard drive with a question mark on it. A trip to the local Mac store revealed that the RAM needed to be replaced. So, a hundred bucks and a few hours later it was working fine again. But that was quite a scare. I've since burned everything important on the hard drive onto discs.
Another little unexpected cost has been Buster, whose left eyelid started looking all swollen a week and a half ago. When we took him to the vet's, they discovered a large scratch in his cornea. To find it, they had to put drops of blue stuff in his eye and then shine something like a laser pointer into it. He wasn't very happy about being in there to begin with, so there was an episode wherein the vet and her assistant had to grab the screaming and spitting Tasmanian Devil off the floor, wrap him tightly in a towel, and put one of those lampshade collars around his neck. Somewhere in there he knocked out one of his lower front teeth. They gave us a tube of goo to put in his eye three times a day for a week, charged us 150 dollars, and told us if it didn't work he'd have to have eye surgery. Plus they strongly suggested we have his teeth properly cleaned and extracted where necessary. We thought about the thousands of dollars this would all cost in order to keep a fourteen-year-old cat alive who knows how much longer, decided a toothless Buster is not such a big deal, and crossed our fingers that having him hate us three times a day over the eye drops would solve that particular problem. Luckily, it appears to have worked. I.e. his eye seemed to us to be better and when we took him back into the vet she charged us another 85 dollars to tell us that his eye seemed to be better.
Since being back there've been band practices, some recording, softball games, a rock show taken in, a couple of decent movies rented (Wise Blood, Waiting for Guffman), and plenty of hanging out with pals. Two hurricanes in there too, but nothing very spectacular. Next weekend The Lodge play their first show in awhile. I can walk or bike everywhere I need to go. I randomly run into people I know all over the place. And the Commons was not even completely ruined by Paul McCartney and KISS. There's a reason why I love this town.
P.S. Here's some photos of our Maine vacation. It was pleasant as hell.
Luckily, our friends Mike, Cliff, and Jesse helped us make light work of it at this end. The place is full of sunlight and storage space; has a big kitchen, high ceilings, a big deck, and hardwood floors; and is in a really pleasant little neighbourhood at an arm's length from the hubbub and hipsters of downtown. OK, maybe there are a few hipsters around...
Alison and I each have our own office. There's still a fair amount of stuff to be put away or on the walls, and we need a few more shelves, but so far it's working out really, really well. I've been getting a decent amount of design work to do from quite a few different sources, some of whom are telling their friends about me. On Friday I went back to Acadia to do a day's worth of little jobs for them onsite, at freelance rates, and pick up the files I'll need to finish off a couple of big projects I'd started before I left. There's barely been time, but I've also been trying to work on branding my own business so I can get some business cards out there, a website, etc. That's the real fun part.
On my first official day of freelancing, I set up my desk and computer and sat down to work on a couple of newspaper ads. Only the iMac wouldn't start up. I tried everything, but I couldn't get anything to appear on the monitor — not even a sad face or a little hard drive with a question mark on it. A trip to the local Mac store revealed that the RAM needed to be replaced. So, a hundred bucks and a few hours later it was working fine again. But that was quite a scare. I've since burned everything important on the hard drive onto discs.
Another little unexpected cost has been Buster, whose left eyelid started looking all swollen a week and a half ago. When we took him to the vet's, they discovered a large scratch in his cornea. To find it, they had to put drops of blue stuff in his eye and then shine something like a laser pointer into it. He wasn't very happy about being in there to begin with, so there was an episode wherein the vet and her assistant had to grab the screaming and spitting Tasmanian Devil off the floor, wrap him tightly in a towel, and put one of those lampshade collars around his neck. Somewhere in there he knocked out one of his lower front teeth. They gave us a tube of goo to put in his eye three times a day for a week, charged us 150 dollars, and told us if it didn't work he'd have to have eye surgery. Plus they strongly suggested we have his teeth properly cleaned and extracted where necessary. We thought about the thousands of dollars this would all cost in order to keep a fourteen-year-old cat alive who knows how much longer, decided a toothless Buster is not such a big deal, and crossed our fingers that having him hate us three times a day over the eye drops would solve that particular problem. Luckily, it appears to have worked. I.e. his eye seemed to us to be better and when we took him back into the vet she charged us another 85 dollars to tell us that his eye seemed to be better.
Since being back there've been band practices, some recording, softball games, a rock show taken in, a couple of decent movies rented (Wise Blood, Waiting for Guffman), and plenty of hanging out with pals. Two hurricanes in there too, but nothing very spectacular. Next weekend The Lodge play their first show in awhile. I can walk or bike everywhere I need to go. I randomly run into people I know all over the place. And the Commons was not even completely ruined by Paul McCartney and KISS. There's a reason why I love this town.
P.S. Here's some photos of our Maine vacation. It was pleasant as hell.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Life: Faster than the Speed of Blog
I just can't keep up. We did the Maine trip. It was fabulous. I'll have to show you some pictures sometime.
Then I started my new job working for Sherman Hines. I worked out of his home office for the first two days, taking care of emergency rush work until we could figure out what stuff we needed to take to the new location in Halifax. Then yesterday I quit. Seriously.
It just wasn't the job for me. More production-oriented than I'd imagined, and even the design I would be able to do would all be based on previously done stuff that I really didn't like the looks of. Plus the files were all in a giant, systemless mess, the software was all out of date, the computer I was using was very slow, and I realized that I just don't like photo correction and cataloguing work enough to do it all day, every day. There was some other stuff too, involving work-style clashes and taxidermy. But mostly it just felt like a huge step backwards all of a sudden.
So I had a little breakdown and called Alison saying, "I think I've made a HUGE mistake!" and she very kindly said, "You don't have to do any job that's going to make you feel like this. You can just take on freelance work like you wanted to do before you got the Acadia job and before you got this job." So that's what I'm doing. Crazy, hey? This adventure just keeps on getting more adventurous.
I've already got a few jobs lined up, and more contacts promising me work, so I think I can do this. I spent yesterday wandering around Halifax, spreading the word, and then this morning emailing and phoning people. I suddenly feel less ambivalently excited about the move and more just plain happy. Everything about Halifax was inspiring to me yesterday, and I feel just as good about the decision today.
Of course, it would be nice to have some guaranteed income for awhile, especially as we seem to have built up a fairly heavy debt over the past year. But what good is debt if you can't multiply it cavalierly with no idea how or even whether it will ever get paid off? This is my new adult attitude I'm working on. What do you think? I may even get a cell phone.
And now, back to taping up cardboard boxes and stuffing them full of crap. We pick up the U-Haul truck tomorrow evening and move everything Saturday. Wish us luck! (Gulp.)
Then I started my new job working for Sherman Hines. I worked out of his home office for the first two days, taking care of emergency rush work until we could figure out what stuff we needed to take to the new location in Halifax. Then yesterday I quit. Seriously.
It just wasn't the job for me. More production-oriented than I'd imagined, and even the design I would be able to do would all be based on previously done stuff that I really didn't like the looks of. Plus the files were all in a giant, systemless mess, the software was all out of date, the computer I was using was very slow, and I realized that I just don't like photo correction and cataloguing work enough to do it all day, every day. There was some other stuff too, involving work-style clashes and taxidermy. But mostly it just felt like a huge step backwards all of a sudden.
So I had a little breakdown and called Alison saying, "I think I've made a HUGE mistake!" and she very kindly said, "You don't have to do any job that's going to make you feel like this. You can just take on freelance work like you wanted to do before you got the Acadia job and before you got this job." So that's what I'm doing. Crazy, hey? This adventure just keeps on getting more adventurous.
I've already got a few jobs lined up, and more contacts promising me work, so I think I can do this. I spent yesterday wandering around Halifax, spreading the word, and then this morning emailing and phoning people. I suddenly feel less ambivalently excited about the move and more just plain happy. Everything about Halifax was inspiring to me yesterday, and I feel just as good about the decision today.
Of course, it would be nice to have some guaranteed income for awhile, especially as we seem to have built up a fairly heavy debt over the past year. But what good is debt if you can't multiply it cavalierly with no idea how or even whether it will ever get paid off? This is my new adult attitude I'm working on. What do you think? I may even get a cell phone.
And now, back to taping up cardboard boxes and stuffing them full of crap. We pick up the U-Haul truck tomorrow evening and move everything Saturday. Wish us luck! (Gulp.)
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Movin' On Sideways
I'll have to put off telling you about Alison's grandfather's birthday and some of the other pleasant times we've had between then and now, because time's flying by and there's one very important piece of information I haven't been able to convey yet.
I guess just about everyone who would be reading this blog knows this already, but for anyone who hasn't heard, we're moving back to Halifax. I got a job working for a photographer, so it's so long, beautiful Annapolis Valley; hello, foggy, cold, mouldy metropolis. Are we crazy? Perhaps.
However.
This job of mine at the university has not been the exciting career-builder I'd thought it would be. I've been responsible for putting forth the institution's brand clearly and consistently, even though no one has ever come up with a clear statement of what that brand is. Why not? There are too many different political interest groups with too many different ideas of what the main point of the university should be, so no one dares to come up with any clear definition of its public character. That's fine, though — means I can visually express what I take the brand to be and just try to stay consistent with myself. Except that my hands would keep getting tied at every turn, and I'd be expected to just do whatever any individual wanted for their particular ugly marketing piece and forget about building any kind of brand, or else go along with whatever half-baked and ultra-expensive one-off campaign an outside agency would be hired to produce, and then shake my head in wonder along with everyone else when the question arose why there were not enough students enrolling to keep us from acquiring a massive debt. All I could say was that it certainly wasn't my salary that was causing it.
And then there's the town of Wolfville. Beautiful and charming. Lovely weather. Politically progressive. But just not very interesting. Where are the hipsters? Why is there no record store or college radio station? How come, with such a great music department at the university, the only bands that ever play around town are all composed of two guys simultaneously strumming acoustic guitars and maybe a woman earnestly whacking some bongos? I.e. where's the RAWK? Plus it smells like cow poop all the time, which is just extra depressing if you're already not into the vibe. I don't know. Maybe when we're ready to retire we'll want to move back here. "Retire". Good one! It is quite lovely, though, especially in the summer. Can you tell I'm ambivalent about this?
This'll also, hopefully, allow Alison to get some more work because she won't have to commute an hour in either direction. Which means maybe we'll be able to afford this somewhat expensive apartment we're about to rent. Sure has been nice having a whole house to rattle around in...
So anyway, we've found an apartment, I've quit my job, and we're set to move Haliward after we get back from a week in Maine, starting Saturday. This I can't wait for. We're meeting my parents and sisters and their families and another family that's friends of our family's, all at the same beach/cottage community we went to a couple of years ago and where we've been going sporadically since I was a little kid. Alison and I are driving, meaning Alison's driving. It should take us most of Saturday. I'm loading up the iPod right now, we're going to make some egg salad sandwiches, and the maps are in the glove compartment. Gobo's gotten an oil change and the thumbs up from our local mechanic, and Alison figured out why the high beams weren't working (they were actually the low beams and the low beams were actually the running lights; we drove all the way home from Chester at one in the morning Saturday night like that). I have the latest Believer and a new Kazuo Ishiguro book. Everything's set. Look out, rich white liberal Americans, here we come!
I guess just about everyone who would be reading this blog knows this already, but for anyone who hasn't heard, we're moving back to Halifax. I got a job working for a photographer, so it's so long, beautiful Annapolis Valley; hello, foggy, cold, mouldy metropolis. Are we crazy? Perhaps.
However.
This job of mine at the university has not been the exciting career-builder I'd thought it would be. I've been responsible for putting forth the institution's brand clearly and consistently, even though no one has ever come up with a clear statement of what that brand is. Why not? There are too many different political interest groups with too many different ideas of what the main point of the university should be, so no one dares to come up with any clear definition of its public character. That's fine, though — means I can visually express what I take the brand to be and just try to stay consistent with myself. Except that my hands would keep getting tied at every turn, and I'd be expected to just do whatever any individual wanted for their particular ugly marketing piece and forget about building any kind of brand, or else go along with whatever half-baked and ultra-expensive one-off campaign an outside agency would be hired to produce, and then shake my head in wonder along with everyone else when the question arose why there were not enough students enrolling to keep us from acquiring a massive debt. All I could say was that it certainly wasn't my salary that was causing it.
And then there's the town of Wolfville. Beautiful and charming. Lovely weather. Politically progressive. But just not very interesting. Where are the hipsters? Why is there no record store or college radio station? How come, with such a great music department at the university, the only bands that ever play around town are all composed of two guys simultaneously strumming acoustic guitars and maybe a woman earnestly whacking some bongos? I.e. where's the RAWK? Plus it smells like cow poop all the time, which is just extra depressing if you're already not into the vibe. I don't know. Maybe when we're ready to retire we'll want to move back here. "Retire". Good one! It is quite lovely, though, especially in the summer. Can you tell I'm ambivalent about this?
This'll also, hopefully, allow Alison to get some more work because she won't have to commute an hour in either direction. Which means maybe we'll be able to afford this somewhat expensive apartment we're about to rent. Sure has been nice having a whole house to rattle around in...
So anyway, we've found an apartment, I've quit my job, and we're set to move Haliward after we get back from a week in Maine, starting Saturday. This I can't wait for. We're meeting my parents and sisters and their families and another family that's friends of our family's, all at the same beach/cottage community we went to a couple of years ago and where we've been going sporadically since I was a little kid. Alison and I are driving, meaning Alison's driving. It should take us most of Saturday. I'm loading up the iPod right now, we're going to make some egg salad sandwiches, and the maps are in the glove compartment. Gobo's gotten an oil change and the thumbs up from our local mechanic, and Alison figured out why the high beams weren't working (they were actually the low beams and the low beams were actually the running lights; we drove all the way home from Chester at one in the morning Saturday night like that). I have the latest Believer and a new Kazuo Ishiguro book. Everything's set. Look out, rich white liberal Americans, here we come!
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Winnipeg » Saskatoon
We're in Saskatoon now, and have been for a couple of days. Alison's grandfather's 100th birthday celebration is this afternoon, in the seniors' complex in which we're staying. There is actually wireless internet here! It's sporadic, but it exists.
I have notes on the drive here from Winnipeg, which I was going to work up into a proper post, but there never seems to be an extended period of time for that. So I think I'll just give you the point-form version essentially verbatim, along with some photos and video:
• Rained the night before, so no Red River photos possible. But here's a shot out the motel window.
• Starbucks for coffee before leaving. Served by a younger version of Jack Black.
• Black line of clouds early on extends eerily downward and immediately becomes HEAVY rain, and then large hail (size of rock salt). Have to stop briefly. Skyscrapers of Winnipeg still visible on horizon. Clouds are so close here you can watch them move relative to each other.
• A few hawks seen.
• Stop at the "Chicken Corral" in Neepawa for fried egg & cheese sandwich lunch. Waitresses sing in Rankinesque 3-part harmony for monetary pledges in support of "Lily Infestation" festival.
• Which reminds me, and this is not in my notes, the restaurant we had lunch in the day before was called "P. I.'s Lounge" and was a total dive that smelled like vinegar, with weird pictures of babies on the walls and Christmas lights everywhere, and the food was really great. There was a pickup truck parked outside with the Ontario license plate "CHEZBRGR".
• Alison sees a coyote sitting by the side of the road.
• Ali and I figure out that the game of Cows is impossible to play on the prairies because when you see them they are in groups of ≥ 100, i.e. no fun to count. So we play Horses instead.
• Sky and land get bigger and bigger; another short shower.
• Eat left-over garlic broccoli & ginger fish fillet at Saskatchewan border.
• The 1-road town of Langenberg (Co-op store, Golden Bowl Chinese restaurant, Save Room for Dessert Bake (sic) & Eatery) has red-, yellow-, & green-striped banners lining its one half-km road, probably not indicating a strong Jamaican presence.
• 13–10 for me so far at 2:55, or 1:55, depending on whether Saskatchewan's shunning of DST means we have to set the clock back another hour, a question about which there's been some debate. Game goes to 50, and there haven't been any graveyards yet.
• Canada geese with babies by a pond in Yorkton.
• Today there are roads leading off in other directions, plus great visibility of sights in those directions besides dense, unpopulated forest, relieving us of the in retrospect fairly apt impression that we have been stuck going one way along a 1-dimensional track where if you stop moving for some reason good luck ever getting found by someone, not unlike a fat kid caught Augustus-Gloop fashion in a completely enclosed waterslide like the indefinitely out of order one at our motel two nights ago in S.S. Marie, our unanimous fascination with which only now strikes me as symbolically fitting.
• Ali moves into the lead — 16–13 — just past Yorkton.
• Stop at a tiny picnic park in Foam Lake. Throw a softball with Alison. A small bird sings insistently, defying us to find it in a dense tree. No one ever gets a clear look at it, even with the binoculars. Probably a red-eyed vireo, though.
• Graveyard! 16–0. 13 really is an unlucky number.
• A pizza place in Lanigan across from the gas station where I pull out the end of the infinite towel in the washroom claims to be "Home of the Big Slice," but I know it is lying because that's in Halifax.
• Realize in Plunkett looking out to the point where field meets sky that the oft-alleged similarity between prairie living and coastal living, viz. the proximity of large open spaces, does not exactly hold, because looking out at the ocean from the shore is always looking at an implied infinity that is other than oneself, whereas the prairies' endless distance surrounds you — you are in the centre of it. There is an extra, breath-stopping sense of utter freedom on top of that awe associated with the grandeur and ultimate imponderability of nature.
• < 1 hr. outside of Saskatoon: 10–0 for me after a few more graveyards on either side. How will someone ever get to 50?
• Of course they don't. We get into Saskatoon, check into the seniors' complex, meet Alison's grandpa, and eat dinner at Smitty's. Turns out I'm right about the DST thing and so we've gained another hour. Seinfeld and early to bed. It'll be weird not to be on the road again tomorrow. I kind of wish we could keep on going all the way to the Pacific Ocean. But I also feel dizzy from watching the land fly by all day, and am actually having a bit of a hard time walking.
And now I'm behind again, as there's already a couple of days in Saskatoon to add to this, but it'll have to wait. The birthday's about to get underway.
I have notes on the drive here from Winnipeg, which I was going to work up into a proper post, but there never seems to be an extended period of time for that. So I think I'll just give you the point-form version essentially verbatim, along with some photos and video:
• Rained the night before, so no Red River photos possible. But here's a shot out the motel window.
• Starbucks for coffee before leaving. Served by a younger version of Jack Black.
• Black line of clouds early on extends eerily downward and immediately becomes HEAVY rain, and then large hail (size of rock salt). Have to stop briefly. Skyscrapers of Winnipeg still visible on horizon. Clouds are so close here you can watch them move relative to each other.
• A few hawks seen.
• Stop at the "Chicken Corral" in Neepawa for fried egg & cheese sandwich lunch. Waitresses sing in Rankinesque 3-part harmony for monetary pledges in support of "Lily Infestation" festival.
• Which reminds me, and this is not in my notes, the restaurant we had lunch in the day before was called "P. I.'s Lounge" and was a total dive that smelled like vinegar, with weird pictures of babies on the walls and Christmas lights everywhere, and the food was really great. There was a pickup truck parked outside with the Ontario license plate "CHEZBRGR".
• Alison sees a coyote sitting by the side of the road.
• Ali and I figure out that the game of Cows is impossible to play on the prairies because when you see them they are in groups of ≥ 100, i.e. no fun to count. So we play Horses instead.
• Sky and land get bigger and bigger; another short shower.
• Eat left-over garlic broccoli & ginger fish fillet at Saskatchewan border.
• The 1-road town of Langenberg (Co-op store, Golden Bowl Chinese restaurant, Save Room for Dessert Bake (sic) & Eatery) has red-, yellow-, & green-striped banners lining its one half-km road, probably not indicating a strong Jamaican presence.
• 13–10 for me so far at 2:55, or 1:55, depending on whether Saskatchewan's shunning of DST means we have to set the clock back another hour, a question about which there's been some debate. Game goes to 50, and there haven't been any graveyards yet.
• Canada geese with babies by a pond in Yorkton.
• Today there are roads leading off in other directions, plus great visibility of sights in those directions besides dense, unpopulated forest, relieving us of the in retrospect fairly apt impression that we have been stuck going one way along a 1-dimensional track where if you stop moving for some reason good luck ever getting found by someone, not unlike a fat kid caught Augustus-Gloop fashion in a completely enclosed waterslide like the indefinitely out of order one at our motel two nights ago in S.S. Marie, our unanimous fascination with which only now strikes me as symbolically fitting.
• Ali moves into the lead — 16–13 — just past Yorkton.
• Stop at a tiny picnic park in Foam Lake. Throw a softball with Alison. A small bird sings insistently, defying us to find it in a dense tree. No one ever gets a clear look at it, even with the binoculars. Probably a red-eyed vireo, though.
• Graveyard! 16–0. 13 really is an unlucky number.
• A pizza place in Lanigan across from the gas station where I pull out the end of the infinite towel in the washroom claims to be "Home of the Big Slice," but I know it is lying because that's in Halifax.
• Realize in Plunkett looking out to the point where field meets sky that the oft-alleged similarity between prairie living and coastal living, viz. the proximity of large open spaces, does not exactly hold, because looking out at the ocean from the shore is always looking at an implied infinity that is other than oneself, whereas the prairies' endless distance surrounds you — you are in the centre of it. There is an extra, breath-stopping sense of utter freedom on top of that awe associated with the grandeur and ultimate imponderability of nature.
• < 1 hr. outside of Saskatoon: 10–0 for me after a few more graveyards on either side. How will someone ever get to 50?
• Of course they don't. We get into Saskatoon, check into the seniors' complex, meet Alison's grandpa, and eat dinner at Smitty's. Turns out I'm right about the DST thing and so we've gained another hour. Seinfeld and early to bed. It'll be weird not to be on the road again tomorrow. I kind of wish we could keep on going all the way to the Pacific Ocean. But I also feel dizzy from watching the land fly by all day, and am actually having a bit of a hard time walking.
And now I'm behind again, as there's already a couple of days in Saskatoon to add to this, but it'll have to wait. The birthday's about to get underway.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Winnipeg!
We made it to Thunder Bay yesterday and now tonight we're in a hotel in Winnipeg, getting ready for bed. Seen many many trees and a few animals (crows (dead and alive), turkey hawks, black bear (Andrew), deer, bald eagles). On arriving here, we ate way too much food at a really good Chinese restaurant across the street. Then we went for a walk by the Red River as the sun went down. Really pretty, especially with the trees growing right out of the water and birds skimming bugs off the surface of the water, but unfortunately no camera for that part. We might take some photos in the morning.
What I do have photos — and video! — of is our visit this morning to the Kakabeka Falls on the way out of T-Bay. It was gorgeous, and made a nice beginning to another day full of sitting in a car.
Tomorrow: Saskatoon!
What I do have photos — and video! — of is our visit this morning to the Kakabeka Falls on the way out of T-Bay. It was gorgeous, and made a nice beginning to another day full of sitting in a car.
Tomorrow: Saskatoon!
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
LOOOONG Road Trip
One thing about this one-subject blogging, it seems like I'm always a few weeks behind what's actually going on, and I'm never going to catch up. So here's a very short post to fill you in on what's happening RIGHT NOW.
We're in a hotel room in Sault Ste. Marie, having driven all day yesterday with Alison's dad and brother from Toronto. We're on our way to Saskatoon to see her grandfather, who is turning 100. We made this plan long ago and now it's starting to seem kind of crazy, but it's also pretty fun so far. I've got a paper cup full of horrible coffee beside me, Alison's in the shower, and her dad and brother are busy pacing around and repacking. There's a Dairy Queen across the street and a bowling alley connected to the hotel. Andrew (Alison's brother [confusing, I know]) and I considered doing a little bowling last night after dinner, but in the end we all just went to bed early, completely exhausted.
We were in Toronto for a full day before setting out on the drive, and we got to see our friends Jeff and Tim playing some softball in a nice little park off Christie.
It was very relaxed and pleasant. Almost made TO seem like a possible place to live. Then we got back to Alison's parents' for dinner and there was a homeless guy asleep on the lawn of the person across the street. Someone called 911, and they sent a fire engine and an ambulance. Two firemen went up to the guy and told him he can't sleep there. Then the ambulance driver used his public address system to bellow, "YOU CAN"T SLEEP THERE!" Then they turned their sirens back on and left, having earned their government salary for the day. The homeless guy looked slightly stunned and/or bemused before he fell asleep again.
Today we drive to Thunder Bay. Then Winnipeg tomorrow, and on to Saskatoon the next day. I'm reading David Foster Wallace's history and analysis of mathematical infinity. It's unsurprisingly fascinating. Assuming internet connections continue to appear as we head farther into the wilderness, I'll keep you posted.
We're in a hotel room in Sault Ste. Marie, having driven all day yesterday with Alison's dad and brother from Toronto. We're on our way to Saskatoon to see her grandfather, who is turning 100. We made this plan long ago and now it's starting to seem kind of crazy, but it's also pretty fun so far. I've got a paper cup full of horrible coffee beside me, Alison's in the shower, and her dad and brother are busy pacing around and repacking. There's a Dairy Queen across the street and a bowling alley connected to the hotel. Andrew (Alison's brother [confusing, I know]) and I considered doing a little bowling last night after dinner, but in the end we all just went to bed early, completely exhausted.
We were in Toronto for a full day before setting out on the drive, and we got to see our friends Jeff and Tim playing some softball in a nice little park off Christie.
It was very relaxed and pleasant. Almost made TO seem like a possible place to live. Then we got back to Alison's parents' for dinner and there was a homeless guy asleep on the lawn of the person across the street. Someone called 911, and they sent a fire engine and an ambulance. Two firemen went up to the guy and told him he can't sleep there. Then the ambulance driver used his public address system to bellow, "YOU CAN"T SLEEP THERE!" Then they turned their sirens back on and left, having earned their government salary for the day. The homeless guy looked slightly stunned and/or bemused before he fell asleep again.
Today we drive to Thunder Bay. Then Winnipeg tomorrow, and on to Saskatoon the next day. I'm reading David Foster Wallace's history and analysis of mathematical infinity. It's unsurprisingly fascinating. Assuming internet connections continue to appear as we head farther into the wilderness, I'll keep you posted.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
RIP, MJ (& FF)
I kind of can't believe Michael Jackson has died, even though it felt a little like he'd died a long time ago. That poor miserable guy. I hope he found some kind of peace with himself before the end. Not to be morbid or cynical, but in addition to feeling bad I also wonder what will happen to the publishing rights to all those Lennon-McCartney songs. Will they just be turned over to Sony in toto?
Meanwhile, unrelated icon of my youth Farrah Fawcett gets completely upstaged. As I didn't know either of these people personally and didn't have any strong emotional connection to their work, neither of their deaths should really affect me any more than any anonymous death I might hear about in the news. But of course they do, because they both figure largely in the shared, ridiculous history of my generation. Condolences to their families, friends, and fans.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Gobo's First Long Road Trip
We also went to PEI one weekend. Did I already tell you that? Probably not.
It was for Alison's birthday. We went to visit our friends Joan and Jason, who are expecting a baby any day. Joan's actually pregnant, so the expectation is not completely groundless.
We left on Saturday morning. Alison drove Gobo. Instead of the main highway which takes you pretty much all the way east back into Halifax before backtracking northwest up toward New Brunswick (figure a), we took a more scenic route (figure b) which is fewer miles but takes a little more time due to lower speed limits. It was worth it because that road was beeyooteeful, with cows and brooks and meadows and willow trees all up and down its windy length.
Ali needed to take a break once we got across the bridge.
Eventually, we got to J&J's house, which is in a nice little neighbourhood not far from downtown Cha'town. They put us up and fed us and showed us the sights and generally played the perfect hosts. We had some fantastic curry and chips in a British pub that night and played some Yahtzee before bed. The next day was spent wandering around. First we went to a park on the waterfront.
Then Alison and I walked around and got lost downtown, trying not to look like tourists.
We probably weren't too successful. There was a really great second-hand bookstore full of beautiful books on which it was a good thing we didn't have much money to spend. Lots of Maurice Sendak stuff and Japanese art books, in particular. At least in the one section I had a chance to look in before we decided we were just torturing ourselves and got out of there. But I also found On the Road on tape, read by Matt Dillon, which I just had to buy for the trip back.
Instead of Yahtzee that night, we figured out how to play a card game called Casino that Alison had played as a child. It's kind of weird. I'm still not sure whether I like it. Alison was immediately good at it.
The following day was Monday, but I'd taken it off work so we could drive back at our leisure. Which we did, after a warm goodbye to the J's. The bridge was closed for a few hours for an international bike race, so we had to wait in that weird little "Main Street, USA" type tourist area on the PEI end of it, where we ate some truly horrible grilled cheese sandwiches fried in rancid butter and served with a mountain of freezer-burned McCain french fries.
Once we got over the bridge, though, everything was fine. The sun came out and we had a long but pleasant drive back with Matt Dillon telling us all about Dean Moriarty's romantic escapades and the truck beds full of hitchhiking farm boys. We took the scenic route again and stopped for an ice cream cone just before home. Wish I'd bought that book of Japanese prints. Maybe when we go back later this summer to visit Jenny & Tom & MacKenzie...
It was for Alison's birthday. We went to visit our friends Joan and Jason, who are expecting a baby any day. Joan's actually pregnant, so the expectation is not completely groundless.
We left on Saturday morning. Alison drove Gobo. Instead of the main highway which takes you pretty much all the way east back into Halifax before backtracking northwest up toward New Brunswick (figure a), we took a more scenic route (figure b) which is fewer miles but takes a little more time due to lower speed limits. It was worth it because that road was beeyooteeful, with cows and brooks and meadows and willow trees all up and down its windy length.
Ali needed to take a break once we got across the bridge.
Eventually, we got to J&J's house, which is in a nice little neighbourhood not far from downtown Cha'town. They put us up and fed us and showed us the sights and generally played the perfect hosts. We had some fantastic curry and chips in a British pub that night and played some Yahtzee before bed. The next day was spent wandering around. First we went to a park on the waterfront.
Then Alison and I walked around and got lost downtown, trying not to look like tourists.
We probably weren't too successful. There was a really great second-hand bookstore full of beautiful books on which it was a good thing we didn't have much money to spend. Lots of Maurice Sendak stuff and Japanese art books, in particular. At least in the one section I had a chance to look in before we decided we were just torturing ourselves and got out of there. But I also found On the Road on tape, read by Matt Dillon, which I just had to buy for the trip back.
Instead of Yahtzee that night, we figured out how to play a card game called Casino that Alison had played as a child. It's kind of weird. I'm still not sure whether I like it. Alison was immediately good at it.
The following day was Monday, but I'd taken it off work so we could drive back at our leisure. Which we did, after a warm goodbye to the J's. The bridge was closed for a few hours for an international bike race, so we had to wait in that weird little "Main Street, USA" type tourist area on the PEI end of it, where we ate some truly horrible grilled cheese sandwiches fried in rancid butter and served with a mountain of freezer-burned McCain french fries.
Once we got over the bridge, though, everything was fine. The sun came out and we had a long but pleasant drive back with Matt Dillon telling us all about Dean Moriarty's romantic escapades and the truck beds full of hitchhiking farm boys. We took the scenic route again and stopped for an ice cream cone just before home. Wish I'd bought that book of Japanese prints. Maybe when we go back later this summer to visit Jenny & Tom & MacKenzie...
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Happy Father's Day!
This is my dad at the scenic end of a hike along Cape Split we took at Thanksgiving last year. Coincidentally, Ali and I are going to hike Cape Split today with some friends. Hope you've got something nice planned too, Dad.
[Hmm... OK, I just found out it's not Father's Day. Weird. I'm sure at least three people told me it was. Oh well, happy Father's Day in advance.]
Saturday, June 13, 2009
El to the Oh to the Dee Gee Ee
OK, I'm into this one-subject-per-post idea. This one's about The Lodge. There have been a couple of shows in the past little while — one an all-ages show at the Mic Mac Canoe Club in Dartmouth and the other at the Bus Stop Theatre in Halifax for adults only. They were both pretty loud and fairly scrappy. Neither as much fun for me as the previous show we'd played at the Foggy Goggle, where the crowd was super into it and five separate people mentioned Joy Division in talking to me about my bass playing afterward. That one was the official CD release show, although it wasn't really advertised as such so we only actually sold two CDs. I heard someone accidentally bought one of the other bands' CDs, thinking it was ours — that's how disorganized our marketing was.But now we've got a show coming up this Friday with The True Love Rules. That's the band Dave Marsh has put together to perform his own material. He's the drummer from the Joel Plaskett Emergency, and one of the drummers from the Super Friendz. His songs are fantastic. Should be a real good show, with lots of people our own age whom we actually know in attendance.
I put some The Lodge CDs in a local book store for sale today. We'll see if anyone buys any. They probably wouldn't know anything about the band out here in Wolfville, although anyone who works with me might make the connection. People also might be inclined to pick it up if they've read the latest Exclaim! magazine. Maybe I'll just randomly distribute some of those around town, lying on tables and benches open to the relevant page. Somebody's gotta give these hippy singer/songwriter/amplified-flappy-stringed-acoustic-guitar-strummers a run for their money.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
A Voice from Beyond the Grave
Another thing I did recently is quit Twitter. I'd been considering it for a long time, but something or other would always drag me back in. It's weird how guilty I felt about it. I guess there were quite a few people that I don't really have much contact with otherwise, which was why it was appealing in the first place. But I just can't get into this whole computer-as-social-venue thing. I think computers are pretty bad for society in general, in that they put us in a headspace where we become almost necessarily oblivious to our surroundings — a pattern that's already way too easy for humans to fall into anyway — and keep us there with a near infinity of potential diversions. It's one thing to (over)work that way, and to be (over)entertained that way, but when we start having to relate to each other that way too, well, there's just something a little creepy and Matrix-y about it.
Plus, having my work and entertainment and friendships all overlap and interrupt each other every three minutes is just way too distracting. I was losing my powers of concentration and starting to feel totally insane whenever the design I'd stopped thinking about to find an appropriate font I'd stopped choosing to respond to an email I'd stopped reading to look up an insignificant fact got interrupted by someone in another city telling me and all their other followers that their coworkers suck and they are just about ready to gouge their own eyes out. Basically, people just probably shouldn't converse when they're on a computer, as they are in a less-than-human state.
But so it was still a really hard decision to make, and I felt bad for all my friends I was deserting. Honestly, it's probably the closest thing to committing suicide you can do without actually hurting yourself. I felt it necessary to apologize and tell everyone it wasn't their fault; I just didn't want to exist in this environment anymore. I thanked them all for their many kind words totaling fewer than 140 characters; said I hoped to see them in some other, better medium; and then I pulled the plug.
I actually left a note too, via Twitpic, the site that lets you post pictures which show up as links in a Twitter "tweet". But I didn't realize that as soon as I deleted my account the picture would be deleted too, so it actually only existed in cyberspace for a couple of seconds. Here's what it looked like:
I predict it becomes THE cultural icon of this year.
Plus, having my work and entertainment and friendships all overlap and interrupt each other every three minutes is just way too distracting. I was losing my powers of concentration and starting to feel totally insane whenever the design I'd stopped thinking about to find an appropriate font I'd stopped choosing to respond to an email I'd stopped reading to look up an insignificant fact got interrupted by someone in another city telling me and all their other followers that their coworkers suck and they are just about ready to gouge their own eyes out. Basically, people just probably shouldn't converse when they're on a computer, as they are in a less-than-human state.
But so it was still a really hard decision to make, and I felt bad for all my friends I was deserting. Honestly, it's probably the closest thing to committing suicide you can do without actually hurting yourself. I felt it necessary to apologize and tell everyone it wasn't their fault; I just didn't want to exist in this environment anymore. I thanked them all for their many kind words totaling fewer than 140 characters; said I hoped to see them in some other, better medium; and then I pulled the plug.
I actually left a note too, via Twitpic, the site that lets you post pictures which show up as links in a Twitter "tweet". But I didn't realize that as soon as I deleted my account the picture would be deleted too, so it actually only existed in cyberspace for a couple of seconds. Here's what it looked like:
I predict it becomes THE cultural icon of this year.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
More Apple Blossom
The next day was the parade. It was really long and really great. We drove to Kentville to watch it with our friends Jen and Andy. All one and a half hours of it. With cheeseburgers and fries courtesy of the Lions Club. (Cheese on the side for some reason.) There was some rain again, but again it didn't put a damper on things. Just made them damper. Ha.
There were tons of homemade floats, Apple Blossom princesses, marching bands, Sparklettes, and of course Shriners. And pretty much everyone for miles around came out to line the sidewalks and sometimes step unceremoniously into the revelry. Sure felt like a celebration.
P.S. NDP got in in our riding, and it's looking like Nova Scotia has an NDP majority government! Whoa.
There were tons of homemade floats, Apple Blossom princesses, marching bands, Sparklettes, and of course Shriners. And pretty much everyone for miles around came out to line the sidewalks and sometimes step unceremoniously into the revelry. Sure felt like a celebration.
P.S. NDP got in in our riding, and it's looking like Nova Scotia has an NDP majority government! Whoa.
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