High

Yesterday wasn't the best day to go hiking. This was especially the case because I haven't been hiking for years. And even then, the most strenuous hike I had tackled was Dog Mountain at Seymour. It's nothing like the Grouse Grind. There are lots of ups-and-downs, but in the end, you've barely changed elevation.

That's what we were looking for from yesterday's hike. Not much of a change, but something interesting to look at. What happened, though, was that we didn't look too closely at the map. We took a wrong turn, and ended up going to High Knoll in Minnekhada Regional Park. It's a nice park in Coquitlam. There's a marsh with deep-voiced bullfrogs. There's an old hunting lodge that has been refurbished and can be rented for weddings and other occasions.

Look at some photos. The light-coloured part on the top right side of the mound is where I was standing for the first photo. In the bottom photo, I was standing on the path on the right side, about a third of the way up that side of the photo, in between the two bodies of water, to take the photo of the mound.

Draw the Line

Just came back from the doggy walk. It is hot out there. The thermometer on our front porch says that it's already 20C. I could feel the heat. It was almost tangible, like I was carrying something on my back. When we got back home, the poor dog's tongue was almost dragging on the ground.

It's his own fault, really. He's in charge when we're on the walk. I figure that it's his one moment of freedom (sort of), except that he's dragging this large thing at the other end of the leash. I can safely say that I'm not as enthusiastic about the walk as he is.

The route changes every day. We go wherever his nose takes us. Today, we started by cutting through the park that's next door to the school next door. We had walked part way up the street when I saw a beat-up van parked in the middle of the street, directly between two cars parks on either side, blocking any traffic that might come along this early in the morning. I realized that the van had stopped to talk to someone on the street. This person had walked out to one of the yards on the far side of the street, and was talking to the van's driver. Because the pedestrian was on the far side of the van, I couldn't see anything but his head. I was just thinking about how inconsiderate this was, when the van pulled away and the pedestrian turned to walk back to his house.

I envy people who are so self-confident that they can parade around in public nearly naked. Even if I didn't have the man-boobs, there is no way that you would see me without a shirt off, unless I was swimming. (You can thank me for this later.) I'm just not a shirt-off kind of guy. But the pedestrian was. There was not a shy bone in his scrawny body. He walked back up his driveway, smoking purposefully, with his greasy hair slicked back and his Spongebob boxers smirking at me. I've never liked Spongebob.

Later on the walk, after we had taken the grand tour of the neighbourhood, we were walking (thank god) down the long hill back to our house. This is when I really noticed the heat, because my back was to the still-rising sun. I was just thinking about how hot I was and noticing how much Sunny's tongue was dragging, when I saw a jogger coming towards us. He was wearing a black fleece jacket zipped up to his chin and a toque.

What?

Why would anyone be wearing that on an already too-hot day? As he gaspingly passed, I purposefully said "good morning" loudly to him. He choked out a "hi". He looked like he was struggling, and this awoke the snotty voice in my head that always starts yapping whenever I hear of someone who has found themselves in a crisis situation after skiing out of bounds, hiking off the trail, or jumping somewhere unwisely. Today, this voice was talking to the jogger. It said "buddy, you're on your own if you collapse". It's called Darwinism, and although it's a bitch, it certainly helps to sort things out.

Edited to add: I don't want to be misunderstood. If someone's in trouble, I'll certainly help. But when people are stubbornly, persistently being stupid (ie. jogging in a black fleece jacket zipped up to the chin), then I don't feel the need to step in and save them from themselves. It's better to just let natural selection do the sorting.

Did you find everything you were looking for?

That question is usually asked when you are buying something. I didn't hear it today. And do you want to know why? Because I couldn't find anything. I went to buy cds today (I know, I'm olde-fashioned and an enemy of the planet). I was prepared to buy many. But I couldn't find any of the ones I was looking for. And I just realized that because I wasn't buying any, I couldn't complain about the ones I couldn't find.

I went to three stores. One was in the mall (HMV), and looked pretty much unchanged. After I went there, I went to FutureShop and then Best Buy. Both have changed noticeably. Their cd section, and even the dvd sections, have shrunk and moved. Is this because people are file-sharing? Or is it because nobody could find what they were looking for in the stores, and were therefore forced to shop online? It's a chicken-and-egg kind of thing, really.

And what can we do as wannabe-consumers? Just now, I thought to myself that I probably should have gone up to someone and told them how disappointed that I couldn't find anything. Yes. How crazy would I have looked if I had marched myself up to one of the till-girls and said "I came to your store prepared to spend a lot of money on cds. But I could find nothing. NOTHING. So I am taking my business elsewhere. Good day"?

They would have taken my photo on the security cameras, and posted it at all the doors with a label underneath: Disgruntled...approach with caution.

So I left, cd-less.

Tummy Ache





I'm enjoying fresh strawberry shortcake while typing this. The strawberries were furnished by the famous Krause Brothers; the cake (more like a biscuit), was endorsed by Denny Boyd (it was his mother's recipe).

Sorry about the half-eaten shortcake. I couldn't wait to take the photo.

Funereal

Last night, Rita and I went to see Corteo, the Cirque du Soleil show that is in town. This had started out as a solitary venture. It hadn't occured to me that anyone else would want to spend the money. And I had decided at the last minute to go. I was going to go see a matinee and then meet Rita for dinner. Instead, she said that she'd like to see the show. So we got last minute seats for the 5pm Sunday night show.

We almost didn't make it in time, and C du S is particularly stodgy about latecomers. They usually punish the tardy by making them wait until the opening/first act is over, which can be up to a 15 minute wait. So I was rushing, trying to take shortcuts, trying to avoid possible delays.

Without realizing it, the route I took was the same road through New Westminster on which my cousin died a couple of weekends ago in a motorcycle accident. It didn't occur to me until we were nearly at the scene of the accident. I didn't know my cousin. There was a rift in the family before we were born. So we grew up separately, even though we were only a few months apart.

I was looking forward to the show; I thought it would be uplifting. Which it was. But ironically, the theme of the show is a funeral: "A clown pictures his own funeral taking place in a carnival atmosphere, watched over by quietly caring angels". It is beautiful; it is strange; it is musical; it is athletic; it is frightening; it is joyous; it is sad; it is silly; it is surreal. It is transporting.

And it was very accurately skewered on The Simpsons.

High Rollin'

So I've been sort of reprimanded (again) for the blogging dry spell. I go through these periods where I blog every day. Then I lose interest. But I only lose interest in my own life. I'm still reading other people's blogs. You know who you are.

Today, I met the delightfully worldy Josie and the sickly Meladuck at the educational Magazines West day of seminars. Last year, Meladuck and I freeloaded a day of seminars after enduring a few months of volunteer hell. Meladuck had called on me for support in coping with one particularly bitter event organizer. The mental scars are still healing. We tried to make ourselves feel better by absconding with as many gratuitous copies of magazines as we could carry. They are still in a pile on my desk, unread.

Ironically, or perhaps insightfully, this year's seminars are meeting at the River Rock Casino and Resort. Feeling lucky? Wanna have a career in magazines? You might as well place a bet, roll the dice, and sell your soul. Oh, yeah. The drinks are free.

I felt lucky. I managed to arrive early. I hadn't had a stroke in traffic. Things were looking up. But I had some time to kill, so I hit the slot machines. The first machine, which seemed to call out to me, was called "Barking Bucks". It features a family, including a son named "Rob" and a dog. Perfect. I fed it my $20, and after a few rounds, I won $70. Not bad. I'm up $50. I still had some time to kill, so I switched to another machine. I fed it another $20, and won $40. I quickly did the math. I was ahead $70, which means that I had more than paid for the afternoon seminars.

It was seminar time, so I left. Our favourite grammarian (for whom we have theoretically have formed a Fran Club), spoke brilliantly about grammar traps and myths, and about how the English language changes. She was funny and informative. Meladuck was excited. Frances had given her some ammunition for work.

I ate 4 delicious River Rock biscotti, and then Meladuck and I dove into the left over tiramisu. After one spoonful, we talked about bringing the bowl back to the table. We were only half joking.

When the seminars were over, I walked with Meladuck and Josie back to the parkade. We talked some more, and then parted ways. I decided to use the washroom before diving into the traffic jam that was surely between me and home. I couldn't resist stopping by the Barking Bucks machine one last time. I fed it a $20. I pushed some buttons, and I won another $102. Knowing that I had just made $150 over the last few hours, and knowing that I could easily lose it again, I decided to brave the traffic, take my winnings, and leave.

The traffic was very light. I got home quickly with my heavy wallet. In all, it was a pretty good Thursday.