Riding above the level of mediocrity

A "duffshot" is an improperly planted sapling, planted too shallow in scree and not deep enough to reach the life giving top soil. It is usually a sign of laziness and means having to replant an entire plot. It is a reminder to me of doing things with integrity.

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Location: Calgary, Canada
Kiva - loans that change lives

Monday, November 27, 2006

THE HIGH IN CALGARY IS MINUS 24

exerpts from my Palm:

Nov 17 - Nov 22 : VACATION / D IN TOWN FOR PIPELINES CONFERENCE
- dinner @ Bow Bulgogi - owner refused us service, but then chased after us to serve us (after a change of heart?)
- dim sum @ Central Grand
- dinner @ The Cheng's: family trees and family traditions
- Nihahi Ridge Trail (K-Country): getting blown off the mountain face and discovering a burial site














- dinner @ The Tang's
- dinner @ Sushi Towa's
- the (successful) quest for Settler's
- lunch @ U and Me

- Casino Royale @ Chinook (this deserves special mention; my colleauge's husband works for an oil and gas company - they rented out the entire Paramount at Calgary's largest mall for all their employees, providing each with: choice of movie, popcorn, pop, Tim Horton's coffee - they couldn't go so I got the tickets instead!!!)
- Peking Duck dinner @ Ginger Beef
- squash @ U of C
- pork pull bun and deep fried pickels @ Bit T's BBQ

And with my sister's departure, COLD has become my next (unwelcomed) visitor (although it looks like she took some snow back with her to Victoria)...



Friday, November 17, 2006

BRIEFLY...

On vacation for the next few days as Camp Timmy's will be hosting my sister who is in town for a gas and pipelines conference. In the meantime, I just got selected to be Secretary for my condo's Board of Directors.

D's in town; what a wonderful excuse to go for a short hike in Kananaskis.












I am so small....








The gray jay, also known as the Whiskey Jack or Camp Robbers (confirmed by this one's rather aggressive, stalking behaviour)












Orikaso folding plate/bowl in action during picnic along the Bow












Mexican hot chocolate - melikes!

Monday, November 13, 2006

KISS, SLAP

This could work for any rivalry. I choose tennis because I'm passionate about it:

A train is taking the greatest tennis players to the World Championships. Like most athletes who are constantly jockeying for the title of "Top Dog", they didn't like each other. So, it was quite a surprise to find Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, Martina Navratilova, and Maria Sharapova sitting in the same box car. Each player barely said a word, focusing on the pending championship matches, strategizing on how to outplay the other.

The train passes under a tunnel and the lights go out. A kiss is heard, followed by a rather loud slap.

As the train exits the tunnel and the box car containing the tennis superstars is illuminated once more, each is looking at the other in shock, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Sharapova, the beautiful teenage sensation thinks that Nadal, the opportunist that he his, tried to reach over and kiss her when the lights when out, but missed, kissing Navratilova instead, causing Navratilova to slap him.

Navratilova, resigned that she is well beyond these childish shenanigans, thinks also that, as the lights went out, Nadal kissed Sharapova and was repaid with a slap.

Nadal, massaging his cheek, thinks that as the lights went out, Federer reached over and kissed Sharapova, but when Sharapova retaliated to this unwelcome advance, missed Federer and hit him, Nadal, instead.

Federer, being the number one player in the world by nearly 700 points and realizing that he got there by mostly outthinking his opponents, thought to himself: "Wow, I just kissed my own hand, slapped Nadal, and got away with it!"

Saturday, November 11, 2006

BEEP BEEP!

A brief chinook blew over Calgary for one day last week, causing the streets to perspire a city-wide fog as any remnants of snow melted away. Reaching +10C, it was pleasant enough to go for a run outside. Just my good fortunes, the moment I stepped inside, the wind started howling. This was followed by hard rain. Then it became snow. The one day relief was quickly forgotten as the citizens were made aware of the dozens of fender-benders that occured during the night. It was as if the city shed the old snow, like a layer of unwanted skin, only to replace it with a thicker, more brilliant layer. The temperatures went back down to -8C. SO WHAT WAS I THINKING WHEN I DECIDED TO RUN IN AN OUTDOOR RACE THIS WEEKEND?

The Calgary Road Runners organize a cross country grand prix, a series of 10 races throughout the winter, at various venues in and around Calgary. This weekend's stop was at Edworthy Park, a place where I had trained regularly for last year's marathon. But, I have always shied away from running outdoors in the wintertime, always finding myself spending more energy in trying to keep myself from slipping than enjoying the run itself. My only experiences with trails have been of the hiking variety, but I know that if I'm not paying attention, a protruding rock or mischievous tree root can lead to instant ankle turning. So, whenever I'm on a trail, I'm constantly spotting my next step, rarley looking up to take in the view. SO WHAT WAS I THINKING WHEN I DECIDED TO RUN IN AN OUTDOOR RACE THIS WEEKEND, WHICH HAPPENED TO BE A WINTERTIME CROSS-COUNTRY COURSE?!

There were a couple of different courses in this race. I signed up for the 8km, but there was also a 4km and a kid's 1km. The kids ran first, sporting a crowded field of 3. The first (and eldest) runner took off like a jack rabbit and finished strong. The other two, a brother-sister team, had to contend with shorter legs, so their pace was a little slower. The (younger) brother got off to a quick start but had to rest on a rock half way through. At the end, the two were running side by side. The older sister's hair was matted against her face, stuck on by a smattering of snow and tears. Apparently, some curious dogs in the dog park thought that she was interested in playing with them and approached her with much enthusiasm, which caused her to trip. The younger brother, wearing a Winnie-The-Pooh toque (with large googly eyes on the top) was trying to console his sister, and ended up tripping on a rock with less than 10m to go from the finish line. So, now they were both wailing and grasping for their father's leg. Truly, a touching finish.

Prior to
the "bigger kids" getting to run, we had a mini Remembrance Day ceremony. Some brave soul took out her trumpet and played The Last Post. It was amazing because this park, crowded with runners, supporters, dog walkers and dogs all of a sudden became silent and the only thing that was heard was the trumpet. Even the cars on the nearby major thoroughway seemed to hold still. There was a moment of silence and then she proceeded to play Reveille. Though we were all in our running attire, no one was fidgeting to stay warm. It was as if the temperature had warmed up just a comforting bit for that special moment.

Well, not to waste the trumpeter's ability to play in tune and loudly, she also set us off with a "CHARGE" anthem to start the race. The details of the race itself are pretty benign: a 4km loop that I did twice, each loop bookended by a steep downhill scamper and an even steeper uphill switchback struggle. At the end, I finished strong, but was breathing pretty hard. Thankfully, no spills, no turned ankles. But, lots of smiling faces at the finish as I think everyone was high on endorphins. Unlike a lot of other races that are organized for a larger scale, there was no t
iming chip. Instead, as each of us crossed the finish line, we received a popsicle stick with a number on it. We then had to go to a van that was parked nearby and hand in the numbered popsicle stick, telling them what our name is. This non-technological way of time keeping is efficient and in having to queue up to hand in the popsicle sticks, I had a good conversation with a fellow runner!

To ca
p this brilliant day off, we were all invited to go to a nearby community centre for a post race gathering. What I experienced was truly community: we all took off our shoes so as not to track in snow and dirt into this borrowed place; runners of all shapes and sizes were warming their tummies with delicious soup that was prepared by cheerful volunteers; strangers sitting around wooden tables sharing their running experiences; people bringing home-made desserts a la pot luck style to share with everyone; encouraging each other on with a final farewell of "see you at next race!"












Just before the end of the first loop.












STABILICERS oversoles, so as to be better prepared for the next race.


Sunday, November 05, 2006

THE QUEST OF CALINTHGORY

Happy lute music gently fades in...

The tiny pine needles were coated with a frosting of white dust, remnants of the recent early snowfall. A boisterous magpie whistled out an unfamiliar, yet inspiring tune. Nearby, a little creek was still flowing, alive, refusing to become sluggish even as its water thickened.


The Guide was sweeping the front porch, clearing the last stubborn leaves that had decided to squat there. He barely noticed the horse drawn wagon that approached. The driver gently tugged the horses to a stop and from the canvas covered compartment emerged two familiar faces: Ingram, the Elementalist, and Borghini, the Necromancer. The Guide smiled and put down the straw broom. Little ones were running gleefully throughout the hamlet.


The travelers were weary, navigating through some of the most treacherous and unmapped parts of the land. If it were not for the clever use of their skills, plus an unlikely visit from renowned court jester Sandler, who knows what fate may have befallen these comrades? The Guide lit the fire and set out the simple burlap blankets atop the straw beds. One of the little lambs stirred and lifted its head up to see what the commotion was all about.

The morning sun shone through the straw roof. The town was already awake, getting about doing busy things. Chickens had to be fed and fires needed stoking for whatever concoctions brewed. The Guide filled the iron kettle with water and set it atop the fire that, too, had just been aroused from slumber. After filling each tummy with some tatoes and eggs, the three set off on their first quest. This mission was not as simple as first envisioned. It seemed like the entire shire was here and there, rushing to and fro with their wares and buys. The dirt road seemed too narrow. A quick stop at the MECana proved fruitful as the three friends picked up experience points, as well as treasures for some fair maidens who were awaiting the return of the two travelers. While exchanging gold for these wares, Ingram was inquired by the shopkeeper about his famed toppling of pillars from a previous quest. Ingram also acquired a little Fire-That-Never-Dies, to add to his inventory of skills.

The rumbling noise was neither the fleeting footsteps of a dragon nor one of the common rockslides near the hamlet. Instead, it was the collective groan of hunger shared by the three friends. They were honored to meet the town's Fashionista, Genivere, for a quick meal. Alas, the keepers of the town's famed fresh fish market were away, again, brewing sake. Likewise, those that looked after the town manna shop were away. The only place to eat was at Mercato, a busy little cavern at the end of the dirt path. The three friends decided to play a caper; they were to assume the identities of some pirates from a distant, southern land. When asked for their names, the three friends replied: Jorge (correctly pronounced "Hore-hey"), Chico, and Carlos. Alas, the trick did not work, for, when it was time to call the next available seating, the hostess loudly proclaimed "George and friends". Genivere, like most Fashionistas, was fashionably late. But just a little.


The next quest was more challenging. Borghini, the Necromancer, had to search out that terrible monster, Highretailpricius, and slay it as swiftly as possible to capture the gold. There were quiet rumours throughout the hamlet that this monster devoured its last warrior at the eleventh pathway west of the centre divide below the river, deep in the forest, at an abandoned cave with the sign Saneal hung at its entrance. The three friends were warned that the monster is a Shapeshifter, even taking on the form of an empathetic humanoid. Borghini was reassured by his two friends that there was no pride forsaken should he decide to abandon this quest; but Borghini was determined. So, ever so cautiously, the three friends entered into the monster's lair. They were immediately accosted by a well groomed, well attired Scholar. He was very knowledgeable but the three friends were not deceived, hands resting on the hilts of their swords, ready to be drawn. This monster was very cunning, and one does not slay this aberration like one would slay a dragon. It is more like a dance, always trying to lull the other into a trance before the strike. The three friends proved to be too strong and Highretailpricius was slain. The humanoid form that it had possessed regained his body and was grateful to the three friends for his salvation. Borghini was triumphant and collected his gold. The legend of this victory will be told over and over again by the little ones back in Borghini's shire.

Slaying a monster is no easy task and the three friends' stomachs were groaning once again. The hamlet of Calinthgory is well famed for its cattle boar. Tales of this delicious meat has reached even the uncharted edges of the world. Famished, the three friends faced one more challenge, one that has reared its ugly head all day, called the Queue. The Queue is more of a disease than a monster because it takes no bodily form. Yet, it causes even the most noble of warriors to be depleted of time, time that is more valuable than gold pieces. Good fortune shone on these three friends as the Toymaker, Futorpippinshoop, was still open in the next stall, allowing the three friends to escape the spell of Boredom that the Queue often casts. After gandering at his new creations for seventy-seven long breaths, the three friends were summoned back to the Smuggler's Inn for their cattle boar feast. And what a feast it was, as sprays of meat juice burst with every bite, each devouring his fill and washing it back with fresh ale! The moon, in its ever so round glory, illuminated the dirt path as the three friends made their way back, reminiscing on their past quests and dreaming of future missions, while their bellies were very content. A little owl hooted a cheer as they strolled by.

The following morning, the three friends set off early to see the Monk. The Monk always had enlightening things to say and this fine day was no different. He spoke of relevance and the economies of a higher perspective. The three friends broke bread together, quite a fitting act of communion for brothers who have journeyed so much together. They returned to town, to the Central Grand, an outpost on the eastern outskirts of the Asiana Villa. Once again, they had to outthrawt the Queue and finally gained the experience points and sustenance needed for the rest of the day. A quick stop to Costcodo's ridiculous farm-shed of wares and the three were off to see Princess Ellaeena. The Princess was celebrating her passage into a new lifestage, a period of deeper wisdom, this being the second time that she will witness the poplars releasing their special cotton leaves. The brave knights guarding the lowered bridge to the Princess allowed them passage. For this occasion, the Princess had invited all of the lady bugs in the hamlet to celebrate as well. The Princess, with great enthusiasm, introduced the three friends to all of the other guests, and being completely enthralled that she had mastered the fine art of 2 word sentences, proceeded to introduce the three friends to all of her possessions. "Ellaeena's chair", "Ellaeena's shoes", "Ellaeena's toys". It was quite the joyous celebration, until the three friends were to depart. The Princess, an adventurer at heart, quickly donned her travel robe and insisted on joining on the next quest. Quite the little spirit!


And so, as the Guide bid fare travels to his brothers, a mysterious fog rolled into the hamlet of Calinthgory, a fitting backdrop for the sentimental conclusion of yet another adventure for these three friends. It would be a long trip for the travelers, but they were carrying a satchel of fond memories from this recent quest. The Guide added another log to the fire, staring past its cheery dancing form, gently stroking the head of the little lamb that had joined him for his company.


The happy lute music gently fades out...

Friday, November 03, 2006

COMING TO A BLOG NEAR YOU!

The lack of posting is indicative of how busy I've been, however, that does not mean I have not been "writing". In fact, I'm writing for nearly an hour a day, leaving comments or emails on blogs that I have found about Kiva.org or microfinance. I cannot describe the amazing blessing it is to discover that there are so many people out there who really care. At first, I was shy about leaving comments, but, more often than not, the authors always write back.

I'm usually very conscious about making sure my spelling and grammar is good, since I'm representing an organization. Well, that all went out the window this week. On Oct 31, PBS aired a documentary about Kiva.org The response that it generated instantly crashed their servers! They are still down, but have found another server to host their portal and should be up soon. I've been scrambling, trying to visit as many blogs as I can to tell them to keep trying! I've gotten so many responses from people who are not only understanding of this situation (when does this happen in the commerce world?) but are offering themselves to help out however they can!

I probably shouldn't post it, given our current internet traffic situation, but it's a very well done documentary. Grace and her peanut butter! Gotta love it....

Frontline documentary on Kiva