BUSY DECEMBER!

Who is Stephen that he inspired an entire avenue to be named after him? And not just any pedestrian friendly, Yorkville-isque road, but one with so many good places to hang out! The steak I had at Centini during our department’s Christmas dinner was one of the best slabs I’ve ever had. The boisterous conversation and delicious Shiraz accompanying this meal played a part in garnishing it. The following day, after-work drinks were to be had at Belgo, a French brasserie (not to be confused with a French brassiere). It’s always exciting for me to meet another triathlete, particularly one who is a CMA and “accidentally” got her brother’s fiancée drunk the night before the wedding.

The only time I’ve been in the Calgary Zoo was during the Calgary Marathon, when part of the route took me through. Pacing myself, while switch backing on this mainly uphill part of the course, meant that I couldn’t really pay too much attention to the animals. EPCOR organized a social event at the zoo and I got a chance to join the “Behind The Scenes” event. Where I got to meet Da Bears. Bear encounters are a real risk when venturing into the Alberta backcountry, so they have been on my mind a lot this summer. I didn’t run into one, probably because I constantly had my bear bell which annoyed my hiking companions to no end, causing them to shout curses at me, and thus scaring away any nearby bears. Thus, the prospect of meeting one of these mythical creatures caused me great excitement! Prior to visiting the bears in their enclosure (fancy name for prison), we were given an educational talk (fancy name for lecture) about bears. I learned a lot! Bears aren’t true hibernators but go into a state of lethargic torpor during the winter months, meaning it’s not a good idea to go and poke a sleeping bear in the winter time, because they will wake up and terminate the annoyance rather swiftly. They then passed around a plate containing plasticized bear feces (allegedly clean) that had bits of plastic shopping bags in it, highlighting the impact that humans have on bears and their way of living. At the enclosure, we saw a large black bear, resting its head on its paws. It saw us and, though we enticed it with food, it didn’t budge. All of a sudden, we hear a rustle behind us. Luckily, a double electrified fence separates us from the grizzly that crept up on us. It was interested in the bowl of treats that the zoo keeper had, tasty dog milk bones that would also succeed in maintaining the bear’s inspiring dental hygiene routine. It would sniff around, sit back on its rump and hold up its paws as if in submission. Then, it would launch itself up onto its hind legs and grab the food that was being passed through the fence on an extended pair of tongs. Watching the grizzly eat inspired us to become hungry, so we were all herded into the human enclosure known as the dining room where we lined up like well behaved little animals in front of the trough (fancy name for buffet table). And just like how they cheered when the grizzly bear entertained us, the same parents were now cheering their own little children who were helping out in a musical skit put on by the zoo, dressed up, ironically, as a grizzly bear! Full from the delicious meal of Flap Jacks and the irony of everything that surrounded me, I went to see the rest of the zoo with C and R.









This is usually what I see in the mirror when I wake up every morning.

My second winter in Calgary is marked by my second condo social. Having just been accepted to the Board of Directors, I figured that it would be a good thing to show up. And nothing adds street cred than being fashionably late! Still, I got to mingle a bit and sip on a nice Guinness (haven’t had one from on draught for a while). I was talking to one of the other residents who just came back from Panama. He went with GAP, an adventure group outfitter based in T dot. They keep things simple, connecting you with the locals and providing a range of programs that are off the beaten tourist path. He had an amazing time. This, along with my sister’s eco-tour trip to Costa Rica next week, is making think that this would be a good way to spend some time off.

A baby wails and vomits everything she eats. The parents start to worry and find themselves waiting in the emergency room until 3:00 a.m. By the time the doctor sees them and they return home, it’s 5:30 a.m. Probably 30 minutes before he was supposed to get up anyways for a day of riding at Sunshine. Understandably, G didn’t make it to snowboarding. M is okay, resting up and getting her fluids. So, Sunshine was delayed by about an hour, but Patience was rewarded by, well, sunshine. On a clear day, seeing the sun come up on Calgary is a breathtaking experience. And once again, another amazing riding day! One lesson learned: blue caution signs are not to be ignored. Pride once again got the better of me as 2 punk kid riders grinded to a halt in front of me. I zoomed passed them, shooting off a couple of evil glances, but failed to comprehend the caution sign in front of me. Before I knew it, I was flying off the lip of a 15 foot drop. Yeah, the landing was not so graceful. For the rest of the day, I did my best to avoid any of these signs. On the way home, we see 2 other riders hitchhiking. I have never picked up hitchhikers in my life, but something prompted me to do so this time. It’s neat to see how certain events happen which could pave the way to an opportunity to be a blessing, literally, down the road. Who knew that a 5 month old baby getting sick would lead to 2 seniors from Canmore Collegiate getting a ride home from complete strangers? I already had the roof rack set up and there was already room for 2 more passengers. Yes, the thought of a possible mugging or worse (still can’t shed that Toronto-induced anthropophobia) did cross my mind, but, at that one moment when I decided to stop, I realized how all the previous events were hints of a blessing to come. Yes, my anal neuroticism did agitate me for not being able to keep my morning’s schedule as I had envisioned it, despite the beautiful sunrise that was, as if, given to me as compensation for waiting. It is so easy to focus on one’s self and be oblivious to something more meaningful that is about to happen.

Someone should get smacked upside the head! For someone who rarely uses his dishwasher (to me, it’s a glorified drying rack), they should make the labels clearer. How am I supposed to know that DISHWASHING DETERGENT is not the same as DISHWASHER DETERGENT. My washer now has a case of the rabies, spewing out foam every time I try to run the rinse cycle. For this to happen at the end of an already long day and seeing that my dishes ARE STILL DIRTY, I’m ready to go postal. Or emo. Thanks to D who stayed and helped me clear out the foam.

Good luck to C on her Linguistics exam tomorrow.

THIS LAND IS MY LAND, THIS LAND IS YOUR MY LAND...

Road rage. A murderous glare when someone unknowingly steps in front. That extra jab at someone behind their backs. Feeling ripped off when we didn't first rip the other person off.

A lot of the freedoms we experience are based on the assumption that they will be there tomorrow. We don't assume otherwise. Thus, a lot of mental energy is then spent on protecting our sense of entitlement, our cultural practices and our personal space. But couldn't it happen, that one day, it's all taken away? It's unthinkable because most of this generation hasn't known what it's like to have something taken away, present company included. Or we believe, almost haphazourdly, that there is always some recourse that will keep us whole.

"Don't I have a choice?"
"That's not how it's supposed to be done!"
"Fine, I'll settle."
"They've forgotten about us..."
"If I change my name, will it be better?"
"How did that old song go?"
"Papa, why do all the other kids hate me?"
" I only know how to get food that way..."
"IT'S NOT FAIR!"
Imagine waking up and this is your reality.

Congrats to my sis who had a hand in the recent signing of the Maa-nulth treaty and what an experience it is for her to attend the initialling ceremony. "Listening to the speeches of some of the elders brought it all home though - of all the hard work and courage it took several generations of leaders to get to this point. One person put it into the international context, that in some other countries, people have resorted to violence in order to solve the question of land rights. In this case, it took 13 years of hard negotiating and patience. The focus was on the youths though - this treaty is for them to have a better future. To make that message more of a reality, they had the youths bring the treaty documents up to the front to be signed. It was really very special and very historic. The last treaty signed on Vancouver Island was in the 1850s."

CHICKENS QUARTERED, CAPTAIN CANUCK FLAMED, TENDONS SNAPPED, SHADOWS SUNSHINED

I chose to be a Barista for the night. I’ve never served in this capacity before, but I’m always willing to try something different. And the night was different. One of the local Swiss Chalets donated 250 quarter chicken meals, complete with cranberry sauce and a little Lindor chocolate house that served as dessert. Ironically, for all of our guests that night, this would be the only house that they would know of this Christmas season. Another special treat was having live music during the dinner hour, two ladies singing Christmas carols ala karaoke style to their track player. Two petite ladies, it turns out, who were their own roadies and Front of House engineers! I helped them tear down afterwards and they managed to fit their entire set up (2 200W JBL’s with stands, 2 near-field monitors, a 16 track mixer, a track player, a snake, a couple of music stands and a D’addario stool) into a Ford Focus! I’ve done some crazy sound gear packing into my little Acura before, but seeing how it all fit so perfectly into this smaller car just blew me away.

“Tim, I need to speak to you for a moment”. The seriousness on my manager’s face told me that this would be a private conversation. Unfortunately, the main board room in our group’s area was already occupied, so we found ourselves wandering to the space near the elevators, apparently the only available private spot on our entire floor at that moment. I close my eyes as he reaches into his pocket for something. I feel my heart drop as I envision a pink slip, even though I know I’ve been producing good work; it is a common fear that I suspect most workers have. Instead, he pulls out 2 tickets to the Flames vs. Canucks game. “Could you use these?”
Not having been to the Saddledome before, I had no idea where these seats were situated. I should have suspected that they were good considering the cost of each ticket could buy me a pair of high end running shoes. THEY WERE 10 ROWS BEHIND THE FLAMES BENCH! From this vantage point, the rink looks smaller, or maybe it’s because the hockey players look that much bigger! From where I was sitting, I KNEW that I wouldn’t have had to shout too loud and the player I was directing my heckling at would hear me. Not that I did any heckling, but just knowing… (evil sneer while rubbing my hands together!)

How seriously hurt can one get from playing dodge ball? Aside from the bruises that typically come from taking a rocket-propelled ball off the arm or the chest, there is the occasional scrape from diving after catchable balls. Well, after one of our games, I notice that one of my teammates is sitting on the sidelines, the rest of my team congregating around him. When some of the heads that were obstructing my view moved, I could see that he was holding his hand. Others were trying to help him. HELP HIM UNBEND HIS MIDDLE FINGER WHICH WAS LOCKED AT HIS LAST KNUCKLE AT AN AWKWARD 90 DEGREE ANGLE! He left for the hospital right away, partly because he was in pain, and partly he knew the sight of this was starting to make people sick. It turns out that he snapped a tendon that was attached to his finger.

.....
Awake from slumber, six months have passed.
Since the face of a mountain, I rode down last.
Muscles burning, resisting the ride,
But stop I cannot, for hurt would be my pride.

Gentle breezes slap my face, my contacts dry,
With each edge I carve, leaving snow spray to fly.
Catching our breaths on the chairlift flight,
Telling a joke or just drinking in the sight.

Yet the mountain, she welcomes me,
Her beauty not contrived, but so naturally.
I’m here not to conquer, but to submit,
For she alone determines if I live or die, I must admit.

And so, begins another season of riding…