WHAT'S UP, DOC?

We have these locked bins scattered throughout the office, used to collect sensitive documents that are then permanently destroyed. Call me paranoid, but I will often bring in personally addressed letters and junk mail from home to dispose of in these bins. It happened right after a doctor's appointment where I had asked for a prescription for Malaria and traveler's diarrhea medication, for my trip to South Africa. It's pretty easy to guess what happened next when I transported both the destruction-destined documents and the prescription in the same knapsack. And so, I find myself slapping myself on the forehead as I rummage for the phone number of my doctor's office. And, as luck would have it, the doctor has just started her 2 week vacation. I was told to call back after she returned, which I did. I was then told that I could come by and pick up the rewritten prescription when it was ready, probably in a couple of days as the doctor settled back in after her vacation. I don't hear anything after a week, so I call again, making my request once more. I guess it doesn't help that I speak to a different receptionist each time and that they don't keep an account of each call that I make. This time, I'm told that they will fax the prescription directly to a drug store of my choice, citing some procedure that prevents them from writing prescriptions in an uncontrolled manner. I'm cool with that. They tell me to call back in 2 days to confirm. I do. This time, they say the doctor CAN re-write a prescription and that it should be ready in another 2 days. 2 days pass and this time I get a call from the office. Unfortunately, the doctor can't write the prescription because too much time has elapsed since my original appointment. I will need to book another appointment. I was patient up to this point. But when I heard I had to book another appointment to see the doctor, for whom I had to wait 4 months before getting an appointment in the first place, I just about lost it. Sensing my frustration, the receptionist mentioned that I could see one of the walk-in doctors, that it was not busy right now, and that I could probably see someone tonight quickly. Resigned, I hop over and wait. Thankfully, the wait wasn't too long and I'm asked to sit in an examination room within 10 minutes. Shortly after, the door opens and in walks a tall, dark skinned male doctor.

I explain to him my situation, my embarrassment for losing the original prescription and if he could write me another one. He speaks with an interesting accent and asks me where I will be traveling to. I tell him South Africa, in about 3 weeks' time. He pauses, and replies in that curious accent, "I'm from South Africa". We start chatting about where I am going specifically, and it ends up that I will be really close to his home town. We start chatting about how I will be helping an orphan aid organization, doing construction. He's looking at me, but his eyes are distant. "My country used to be a very prosperous country, but it is so broken now". We are done our visit and I can now obtain Cipro and Malarone without breaking any laws. As I leave, he shakes my hand (most likely because, in Canada, that is a more acceptable display of expressing deep gratitude between 2 men than hugging) and tells me how touched he is that someone is taking the time to care. Any feelings of frustration I had disappeared at that moment. I'm really no longer a believer of coincidences. Who would've thought that such a mindless act would lead to this encounter?

THE 203-401 FELLOWSHIP QUEST TO CT IS COMPLETE!

There's a bit of nostalgia, as I reconfigure this place back to "just my home" after having served as Camp Timmy's for the past week. There is something about just having extra bodies around that make a place feel more habitable, and now the silence here is deafening. I have the radio going, a live internet stream coming through and the washer and dryer running, just to give me some noisy company. In true Shakespearean pathetic fallacy, it is raining outside, as I deliver my soliloquy to this faithful laptop. I ponder the activities that the latest visitors to Camp Timmy's undertook: a nice visit to Drumheller's dinosaur museum and Hoodoos, prime rib dinner at Smuggler's, a nice hike through Edworthy followed by a visit to another Timmy's, New Music Tuesday shopping, Settler's, an impromptu jam session after N went through a bass guitar crash course (affectionately called Camp Timmy's music program), an amazing hike in K-country and some sight seeing at Lake Louise and Banff. Not only were the activities memorable, but the ride going from place to place was showered with great conversations, quick jaunts down memory lane and a lot of singing to the radio. Not surprisingly, TSX has been renamed the Camp Timmy's bus. For me, I'm a little embarrassed to say that I didn't have much mess duty as Camp Director. S and N found great pleasure in preparing most of the dinners and I was blessed with seafood chowder, Gai Lan (S's favorite), turkey bone soup with lotus root and mushrooms (authentically Chinese, I might add), T-bone steak and grilled vegetables. Aside from the great food and conversation, what really impressed me was how great a team they were, maneuvering through my kitchen with much grace, coordination and cooperation. It was great reconnecting with them after over 2 years; in fact, after racking our aging minds, we remembered that the last time we met was at the Toronto Marathon in September 2005, one day before I moved to Cow-town.

And, as of 2007, the Bruised Bananas of 203 Colbourne and 401 Johnson have completed the quest to Camp Timmy's!

The latest additions to Camp Timmy's - thanks N and S!

ONLY IN COW-TOWN!

After a fairly uneventful flight from D.C., through T.O., I grab the next cab, a maroon coloured sedan. Not more than 50 metres into the trip, the cabbie takes a call on his Bluetooth ear-piece. I'm not perturbed by his lack of client decorum and I stare out the window, just glad to be home. We pull up to a light. I see another cabbie return to his car, stopped behind a SUV. I assume that the SUV cut off the cab and the cabbie gave this driver a piece of his mind. Strangely, I'm disappointed that I arrived seconds too late to catch a heated exchange. Our cab is in the left turn lane and so we have to wait for the next green. The SUV and the cab behind him are in the lane beside us, one that proceeds straight and they have now a green. There's no movement. Oh boy! Perhaps the SUV is determined to really get on the cabbie's case - I might get to see something interesting! As if on cue, the cabbie dashes out of his cab and boldly approaches the SUV's driver side door. He swings it open. The driver of the SUV throws up his arms in surrender and the cabbie reaches into the cabin...

But, there's no fight, no altercation. Instead, the cabbie reaches down and disengages the emergency brake. The driver of the SUV reacts sheepishly and gives the cabbie a smile of gratefulness. The cabbie waves to the driver of the SUV, "no problem at all!". He returns to his cab, his fare patiently waiting for him.

THE FREEDOM OF MUSIC

Taking the stage were 8 men. Humble in their stride, they each walked confidently to a microphone that was, somehow, set to the right height. Clad in brightly coloured shirts, they waited until the applause had nearly extinguished. That was when they hit us. A wall of sound so powerful and pure, that my whole body trembled.

Ladysmith Black Mambazo is a multi-Grammy award winning group from South Africa. Their vision: peace, love and harmony. They deliver this through inspiring lyrics paired with gripping harmonies. With just weeks to go before heading off to Masoyi, South Africa, for a volunteer trip, our team gathered on this beautiful Friday evening. LBM is only in Canada for a weekend and, lucky for us, their first stop is in Calgary.

Sitting in an a capella performance, I'm not sure what is the right posture to take. Is it appropriate to tap my feet? Should I clap along? Or should I just sit still and listen? Not too much time passes and then I know. The singer on the end is one of the younger members. His slightly jolly build is complemented by his great smile. He begins shuffling, while the others are going through their rehearsed hand movements. The singer on the other end, also young, starts incorporating the slightest of a hip-hop action into this routine. Pretty soon, each singer, young or old, begins putting a little "somethin'-somethin'" of their own. Often, their dance routine resembles marching, followed by a dramatic front kick, often reaching above their heads, snapping down as quickly as it shot up. The booty shake, the Buddha belly rub - THEY LOOK LIKE THEY'RE HAVING FUN!

They have sung with Sarah McLachlan, Melissa Etheridge, Josh Groban and Paul Simon. Their style of music is Isicathamiya, a unique a capella singing style that originated from the South African Zulus. Its chief focus is achieving a harmonious blend between the voices, while incorporating tightly choreographed dance moves that keep the singers on their toes. These choirs are traditionally all male.

After the intermission, one of the singers reminded us that South Africa was hosting the 2010 World Cup and led us in a sing-along. I suspect that most of the audience didn't know what the words meant, but we sang along with much enthusiasm nevertheless, most likely butchering the original intent of the song. But that's the great thing about this music and how LBM delivered it. Their expressions and movements conveyed love ballads, freedom proclamations and plights of the homeless, without the requirement for words. Before we knew it, they were singing their encore song, a moving rendition of Amazing Grace. And so, this special evening ended by reminding us that not only did the journey of people who are separated by a 25-hour plane ride away come together. But we part ways knowing that it is grace that erases the walls created by geography, language and preference.

A night to remember...









A recent performance with Sarah McLachlan on The Tonight Show...

CHECK YOUR APPLICATION!

Our group is growing again and I find myself sifting through resumes to find suitable candidates to interview. One, with an attached cover letter, came across my desk. I couldn't help but share this with my manager. Boy, when he got a hold of it, it made its way around the entire group pretty fast. Goes to show that one's lack of attention to detail can be another's source of chuckling. You see, this applicant was one of those accountants who actually HAS a designation!

Candidate Name: xxxxxxxxxxxx
EPCOR Employee: no
Comments: I moved to Calgary to work asa coat accountnat, but the job was not as described. I am available for work. I expect to earn $60K+ per year.

Application received: Wed., September 5, 2007 08:24:42

So, we figured if any of us ever lost our coats, we know that there is someone out there to help us find it!!

Speaking of designated accountants, I began my CMA journey today. 22 gruelling full day classes, 5 tests and then I might be ready to challenge their entrance exam to actually get into the program. I met one guy today who felt lucky to just make it to class. He just had laser surgery and still had trouble focusing on things that are about 10 feet away. I was intrigued because the majority of my life has been lived having to deal with contact lenses and clumsy glasses. He then said something that kinda blew me away: "For another couple hundred, they'll give you new tear ducts". Blink-blink. No, literally I blinked because my eyes were dry. I never had this problem before in Toronto but Calgary is a very dry place, proven by the number of hand lotion bottles scatter throughout my house, in my car and at the office. My eyes have taken the brunt of it and I also have a number of eye drop bottles kicking around. But who would've thought that you can get new tear ducts?! So cool!