Riding above the level of mediocrity

AT THE MOMENT

2007-12-28T10:51:00.000-05:00

I find myself sitting at the newly "regifted" piano, headphones on, as everyone else is sleeping. It's like visiting the elementary school, years after graduation. The waves of sights, sounds and smells, preserved in the glass cases of forgotten memories, are pleasantly suffocating. I flip open the tattered blue binder, whose cover is decorated with stickers I once thought were cool. It dawns on me that all of my Grade 10 music was photocopied, the implications of copyright infringement not quite appreciated then. My fingers reach for the keys. Despite the fact that I've dabbled in jazz lessons, shown off familiar riffs to sell the occassional grand piano, and even accompanied a good friend for a singing contest, I find my fingers nervous, confronted with the task of playing songs they once mastered but have now mostly forgotten. Very gingerly and slowly, I go through each song. They're familiar enough that I know when I've played a wrong note, yet I cannot command my fingers to avoid hitting the incorrect keys. After slowly stumbling my way through each song, 45 minutes have passed. There's one song left and I deliberately left it to the end. Chopin. His' was the music that would make a kid pee his pants. Too many chords that spanned more than an octave (a constant challenge with my small Asian hands), too many embellishing 32nd notes, too many double sharps. Each song was a painful try out that, if you survived the gory affair, led you to some of the world's most beautiful music. Feeling no bladder urgencies, I position my fingers, scanning the myriad of black dots populating the page before me. These dots seem random, but in some way, they are a road map for my fingers, its journey will, hopefully, create a decent sounding Valse. I apologize ahead of time to Chopin for the butchering I am about to do.

My fingers putter at first, threatening to stall, but I press on. I grab the next bar, quietly celebrating my triumph over the first passage. Then something happens: my fingers remember! They start taking a life of their own, awaken from what amounts to be a 14 year slumber, when I was last in Chopin-performing shape. The sheet music is now just a point of reference, reminding me of when to move on to the next section. It was both a shocking and exhilirating experience all at once!

So, perhaps that's the hallmark of greatness. It is often measured by AT THE MOMENT: how breath taking the sight of a mountain top is AT THE MOMENT, how tantilizing a well prepared meal tastes AT THE MOMENT, how hearty the embrace by someone you care deeply about is AT THE MOMENT. But when the moment passes, so does our experience, along with the perception of that experience's greatness. We tend to be a forgetful creatures, needing tokens and trinkets and photos to remind us of that moment. However, something is truly great when no intentional reminding mechanism is needed; it's just remembered. Spontaneous re-experience!

NEWS FROM MASOYI

2007-12-19T11:55:00.001-05:00

His name is Colin. I cannot claim that I knew him. We passed each other often, him with a bucket of water being delivered to another room that he was about to stucco; me with another wheelbarrow of dirt. We barely exchanged words, just the occasional, dismally delivered "Kwan Jani" greeting first thing in the morning. He always had a silly grin on and I'd like to believe that this was a reflection of the happiness he felt inside.

"Unfortunately I'm writing to you guys today to inform you of some bad news. Today I learned that Colin was stabbed and killed on Friday night. I feel like I should say more than this, but I don't know what else to say. I think that it's safe to say that we all knew that he was a gentle soul, and it goes without saying that he will be missed."

May my current reality not allow me to forget a the one I recently connected with.

SANTA, EWWW!

2007-12-16T11:40:00.000-05:00

The large coffee that kept me warm as I visited both of my grandpa's wanted a quick exodus. The most logical place in a mall would be the food court. So, as I'm finishing up, the door of one of the stalls behind me opens up as the toilet flushes. Out walks Santa! I guess, after how many hours of having scared/whiny/indifferent kids sitting on his lap and taking a pic, he probably needs a bio break as well. Had my hands not been occupied, I might have whipped out my phone to snap a cool candid shot of Santa. Before I have a second thought, he bolts, to join his rent-a-cop escort waiting outside. What?! SANTA DIDN'T WASH HIS HANDS AS HE RETURNS TO THE MOB OF KIDS WAITING TO GET A PICTURE WITH HIM!!

Don't mess with him, though!

CAREER LIMITING MOVES

2007-12-15T07:59:00.000-05:00

Tis the season to be merry. The weather gets nippier, malls are buzzing more than usual and neighborhoods get colourfully brighter. It is also a time of increased work-related celebration functions, making it nearly impossible to make reservations at most restaurants or finding an available cab at this time of year. It is also a time of higher occurrences of career limiting moves.

After a full day at the manager's meeting, a social function thoughtfully name The Cocktail Creation, was planned and we were personally invited by our Senior VP to attend. I arrive at the Suede Lounge in Edmonton and am ushered towards the bar, where our event is to take place. Just my luck, the Senior VP is sitting there with one of our other VP's. I plop myself in the seat on the other side of our distinguished host. Armed with stories from my recent South African adventures, I start chatting it up. At some point, he invites me to try one of the martinis. As any good employee would do around essentially the most powerful person in the business unit, I want to toast him congratulations on the spectacular year we've had. I swing my glass towards him and it is at that moment that I learn that liquid in a martini glass does not behave like liquid in a wine glass or beer pint. Before I can retract, there is gin and vermouth flying towards my Senior VP.

We are all having a great time at the Chicago Chophouse. This is after we've picked up our jaws off the floor because we notice that on page 35 of their 35 page wine list there is a $50,000 bottle of wine. But, based on the quality of the food we had that night (the only way I can describe their truffle macaroni and cheese is orgasmic), I'm not surprised to find such luxury here. Personally, I was happy that they served Hoegaarden beer as there seems to be a shortage of Belgium blonds in Calgary. By the time we got to dessert, everyone was in great spirits. I have learned that I start articulating more with my arms when I am in greater spirits. This is not good when they've placed the good wine at the other end of the table and one's manager decides to go and pick up for himself 2 full glasses of said wine. I don't remember what I was talking about or why I needed my arms to illustrate the point but, just as my manager was returning to his seat beside me, I was at the climax of my arm swinging exaggeration. The said wine never made it into my manager's mouth. Instead, it ended up all over the front of his shirt. I'm not sure who was more shocked, him or I. After gratutitous amounts of Wine Away and apologies, things got back to normal. In fact, I think he thought it was hilarious that this happened a week before he was to do my annual performance review.

Time to polish the resume.

SOUTH AFRICA PICTURES

2007-11-25T12:17:00.001-05:00

South Africa pictures

FAREWELL FAITHFUL FRIEND

2007-11-25T11:51:00.000-05:00

If memory serves me correctly, it would have been 1995. I became better friends with D because we were both in the "advanced" Phys Ed program at Port Credit (although one look at my grade 12 mug and, clearly, I didn't get in because of my physique). He was into biking then and told me about an awesome deal. Though it wasn't a recognizable brand name, it had all the latest components: Shimano LX (yes, this is even pre SIS days), quick lock wheel nuts and saddle post and, best of all, a light weight Cromoly frame! After a bit of haggling with my parents, I was the owner of a new Mingo 6700. I quickly retrofitted it with fluorescent green (only because anything fluorescent was cool back then) bar ends and cages for the pedals. Throughout the years, I learned a lot about how a bike works on her, as she allowed me to do a lot of routine maintenance and repairs. I've never been in a single accident with her, despite the many miles she accumulated while commuting me to various work places, countless Sunday bike rides, and even one triathlon. Recently, the bottom bracket has become irreparable, and I've been commuting in on my mountain bike. Well, I found out that Bow Cycle was taking in old bikes, refurbishing them and then donating it to a Bike-For-Kids program. So, I bid Mingo a heart felt farewell. Thank you, faithful friend!

THIS IS MY FATHER'S WORLD

2007-10-10T20:42:00.000-04:00

God bless my father's heart. His motivations are always pure, just the execution is a bit clumsy.

I received a call from my Mom who was a bit frantic. I was worried, because she was calling me from her land-line, and not Skype. I just spoke to her yesterday and it would only be an emergency to hear from her 2 days in a row. She had arrived home to find a new computer sitting in the place where her old computer sat. New gear excites me, but it frightens my Mom. After finally figuring out how to turn the thing on, alien blue lights and all, she tries to open a document she was working on. No dice. After some fussing around, she realizes that this new one cannot connect to the Internet.

When my Dad returned home that night, he had some great news to share. "I took the computer to one of my deliveries asked a guy how to make my computer faster. He laughed and said there wasn't much that could be done. So, I bought a new one!" Obviously, my Mom didn't receive this as good news at all, and immediately got on the phone with her son.

After 2 post sale service calls, a transfer of all the files from the original computer, a long distance call to Calgary for the router WEP key, the computer finally gets set up.

And kudos to my Mom. She is able to do some pretty advanced things: composing spreadsheets and documents in Chinese (through keystrokes, not with a tablet), emailing people in various languages and with various attachments and, if said recipients can't view the various attachments, she knows how to scan a "hard copy" and then resend as an attachment! She shared with me that most of her peers have steered clear of computers, perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of laziness. I'm really proud of my Mom!

I'm proud of my Dad too. He is always thinking not of himself, but of others. No one can fault him for that.

HEARD IN THE FIELD (PART 2)

2007-10-05T23:15:00.000-04:00

We celebrated the birthdays of 3 of my colleagues today with cake and song. As we disbanded, I wished Nick happy birthday...

Hey Nick, happy birthday man! Thanks for giving us a reason to have cake today!
Actually I was induced by my parents 2 weeks early.
(*blink blink*)
My parents won a sales award, a Safari trip to Africa. They weren't going to let me stop them from going, so they induced my birth 2 weeks early.

HEARD IN THE FIELD

2007-10-05T23:01:00.000-04:00

An excerpt from We Africans Have Long Stories by Laura Pope (a book written by a daughter of one of my South African teammates)

A GOAT

Pinky, Gift, Presilla, Dauna and I are walking single file along a dirt path surrounded by maize crops on the way to our next Home Based Care patient. Dauna is talking with Presilla.

Presilla, what a beautiful dress! It looks so good on you.
Why does it look good?
It fits your shape and your figure. You have a beautiful figure.
But what use is a figure when I have no husband?
Would you like to marry?
No, I don't need a man.
That's right, you don't need a man. You're a strong woman.
I just need gode.
O, a goat? Yes, then you can milk it and provide for your family?
No, GODE.
Well a goat provides a better relationship than a bad man anyway.
No, GODE.
Yes, a goat. That's a good goal.
GODE!
Goat?
I finally interrupt: Dauna, she's saying GOD!

WHAT'S UP, DOC?

2007-09-27T14:16:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-09-23T00:21:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-09-22T23:45:00.000-04:00

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

2007-09-15T01:52:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-09-09T01:46:00.000-04:00

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!

DON'T QUIT!

2007-08-26T21:59:00.000-04:00

Being in Edmonton on a Sunday gave me a chance to worship at a different church. Sometimes the change in scenery is good because it's easy to start feeling that there's only one way of spiritual feeding. J, D and I went to City Centre Church, an abandoned movie theatre in the heart of downtown Edmonton converted into a sanctuary. Elements were familiar: good worship band, coffee break, gifted communicators, communion. Some things that were unique: live webcam feed from one of their missionaries in Slovakia, a backpack drive for the upcoming school year. But, the thing that touched me the most was this...

From "Facing The Giants"

GOOD BYE, OLD FRIEND...

2007-08-13T23:38:00.000-04:00

Almost eight years, one masters degree, numerous digital pianos carted to happy customers, countless trips to mountains and hills of various heights, one big accident, 275,000 kms and many hours risking getting crushed by her underbelly, I bid a good friend farewell. Good bye EL.

Hello TSX.

CLOSE ENCOUNTER OF THE SECOND KIND

2007-08-04T14:46:00.000-04:00

It was the second long ride of the season. I relished the break at my usual turn-around point, the little hamlet of Bragg Creek. I slowly savored the Triple Threat Power Bar and washed it down with the still-cold water from my bottle, while sitting at my usual picnic table. The town was just getting up as the Chinese lady wheeled out the decorated horse in front of her Ice Cream Shop.

For some reason, the ride back always seems faster, which is a good thing, because it's on the way back that my sore legs and butt do their most protesting. I'm getting into a good cadence, contemplating whether or not to get into Aero position.

A brown blur, hidden in the grass, scurries in my peripheral vision.

There are some leftover shards of nuts in my mouth and I play with them a bit before dry swallowing them. I think they're remnant nut bits; could be unfortunate bugs for all I know.

Now the brown blur emerges. I can't believe my eyes: it's a brown bear! It's clearly not an adult bear, but certainly not small by any means. And he's crossing the road from the opposite shoulder, dashing over to my side.

At that moment, I am all reflex. It doesn't seem like I'm processing any of my thoughts, but the fact that I can write it down now means that I did have them. As it approaches, it doesn't appear to be aiming at me, but it does appear a little agitated as if it were lost. I am not that used to the gearing system on my road bike but, somehow, I remember how to gear down. I am slow enough that I can clip out, but then I have to make a decision. Do I ditch the bike and try to outrun it? Or stay clipped in and try to outride it? Retrospectively, staying on the bike seemed to be a better option because I realize now that I probably couldn't have run very fast on hard-soled cycling shoes.

The bear cub crosses my path less than 5 feet away. He scurries pass and ducks underneath the barb wire fence beside the shoulder.

Relief doesn't set in yet, though I'm staring at the vanishing bear in awe. It's been pounded into me that, in bear country, when there is a cub brown bear present, momma bear isn't that far away. I'm now scanning both sides of the road erratically, all the while trying to build up my cadence again for a quick get away. After about 5 minutes of sprinting, I'm convinced that I will only have one bear encounter today.

I've always told people that I've never seen a wild bear before and I prefer it that way. Every year, more than a few hikers and bikers are killed by bears here, so the dangers are real. Now that I'm safely back on my patio, blogging, I can say that this was just an indescribably amazing experience, to see an uncaged bear that close. I had no bear spray, nothing to protect me should that bear have decided that I was its next meal. I think the feeling of that vulnerability is what is magnifying that experience for me.

ADVENTURES IN MOVING

2007-08-01T14:09:00.000-04:00

It's summer time. It's a good time to move and, with the Calgary housing market cooling down a bit, a few of my friends are moving. I believe that helping someone to move is one very practical way of serving others.

So, after much tortuous indecision, S finally took the plunge and bought himself a townhouse on the edge of town. It couldn't have been a nicer day to move, as there was a break from the heat wave Calgary has been enduring. It just so happens that, a few days later, I had committed to help out with another move. This time, it was for a senior lady that I didn't know, but which was arranged through the church who often spearheads emergency moves of endangered women into shelters. Having done two moves in less than a week, I have discovered some muscles that have been recently neglected and they let me know with much enthusiasm that they were still there.

By all accounts, one would think that moving S, a single bachelor guy, might be more challenging. Guys typically don't pack very well, if at all. Plus, in an effort to save some money, he opted with the cargo van from U-haul. But, everything fit and it only took us one trip, a relatively painless move.

The move for F was not so painless. She had nothing packed and what was packed was done so rather inefficiently: half empty boxes, some boxes that were extremely heavy while others were extremely light, and all the small items were in the doorway leaving us with no choice but to pack the little things first before getting to the large items. As well, she had some paranoia about having the bed disassembled, so we had to move the frame as is. The U-haul van used for this move was a 14' truck, more than twice as large as the cargo van. By looking at everything she had, I was worried that there wouldn't be enough room. And it wasn't the physical labour that grieved me most about the move. IT WAS THE FACT THAT SHE HADN'T DUSTED HER PLACE IN 8 YEARS. I'm typically not allergic to dust, but very shortly, I was sneezing and my nose was sprinting. The walnut cabinet where the TV sat was the worst: the dark brown shelving plank was solid white with a layers and layers of dust. I believe I now know the worst way that anyone can die, and that is suffocation by dust.

Anyways, this doesn't deter me from wanting to serve this way. It was just interesting contrasting the 2 moves. In fact, I am loving this "manual labour" thing so much that, from October 20 to November 12, I will be going to Masoyi, Mpumalanga (about 200 km east of Johannesburg in South Africa) to assist Hands At Work in building a new facility.

GO CARMEN GO!

2007-07-23T01:09:00.000-04:00

I take it for granted that I can walk into the Sunterra across the street and purchase a fresh slab of pork. A $50 purchase might get me enough tenderloin to serve to 10 for one meal. Yet, for someone many miles away, a $50 microloan may result in the sale of pork that represents a future for their children. At the time of publishing, she's only 10% there. This is bound to change.

Go Carmen Go!

E.T. PHONE HOME

2007-07-17T00:50:00.000-04:00

We find ourselves in world where our dependence on connection, the umbilical cord to the familiar, is an eerie fulfillment of a prophetic catch phrase from a 1982 movie.

You haven't experienced Calgary, really, until you've been through the Calgary Stampede. It's not defined by one single event over this more-than-week-long period. Whether you grew up on a rural farm or in a dense metropolis, EVERYONE discovers that they are a cowboy at heart. It's not that the kickoff parade shuts down the entire downtown core for most of the morning that is impressive. Rather, it is the throngs of families that start claiming the choice spots on the sidewalks with their lawn chairs at 4 a.m., just to be better positioned for the parade that starts at 9. And then it begins. Pancake breakfasts every morning. Stampede lunches and "business" functions. Cowboy hats and boots of all shapes and colours. The rodeo. The midway. The food. The grandstand show. The Western hospitality. The nightly fireworks. The marquee concerts. There is a special energy that is created and willingly shared. And then it's all over.

It made sense to take the bus to the Stampede grounds, considering it picked us up right outside the condo. It was going to be a scorcher and so we prepared by lathering on the sunscreen, donning the cowboy hats (well, I've not quite adopted all traditions of Stampede, so I wore my running cap), and threw a couple of full water bottles into my knapsack. As we approached the bus stop, a bus was just pulling out and we thought that we would have to catch the next one. However, a quick wave to the driver and I was reminded once more of how blessed Western hospitality can be. The bus was full of other cheery Stampede goers, most dressed more fittingly than me. It was going to be a great day.

The light turned green and the driver proceeded through the intersection, following one or two other cars in front of it. I was using my arms to excitedly describe all the things I wanted to see at the Stampede, feeding off the collective excitement and anticipation in the bus. A LOUD BANG. All of a sudden, the bus was sliding sideways and even more all of a sudden, people were flung out of their seats. A sharp pain shot up my arm as two other passengers were thrust against me. At some point, my bag flew out of my lap and landed somewhere. I don't remember much screaming, but a lot of gasping. The bus eventually came to a stop. An elderly gentleman was slumped in the aisle between the two seats next to me. The window that he was just sitting beside, moments before, was smashed and the blood trickling on his forehead indicated what caused the damage to the window. Another passenger, a young teenaged girl was also on the floor near the rear doors. She was crying. Behind me, another lady was on her hands and knees, scouring the floor for something. SHE WAS LOOKING FOR HER CELL PHONE. When she couldn't locate it quickly, she bolted up, ignoring the pain in her twisted ankle. She cried out for someone to call a certain number, a number that neither contained 9 or 1 in it. The girl on the floor, in between heavy sobs, had her pink RAZR in her hand and was either texting an entire encyclopedia, or had difficulty dialing one particular number. Some passengers near the front started making their way back, asking if everyone was okay. The gentleman with the cut forehead was attended to. He kept muttering "I saw the red truck coming but it was too late..." What sounded like a swarm of sirens were quickly approaching. The girl finally got through to whomever she was dialing, but, hearing that familiar voice only made her sob louder. At that moment, I noticed that my knapsack was near this girl, by the door. Somehow, one of the water bottles had slipped out and was lying next to it. This was a good thing because it was drunk from by the gentleman, the frantic woman looking for her cell phone, and finally by the girl on the floor once she stopped crying. Others were on their phones as well, breaking out into tears once they connected to someone they knew.

It's always been an irritation to me when I observe people who have chosen to make their phone a permanent prosthetic for their head. I feel offended when someone picks up a call in the middle of a meal or conversation that I'm sharing with them. There is nothing wrong with the technology and the conveniences it provides; it's more about how it's made people behave that annoys me. I now have seen first hand how this technology has become a surrogate for live connection. I do wonder, though, if we didn't live in an age of cell phones, how it would have forced the passengers on this bus (who are sharing the same extreme experience) to relate to each other. Instead, I see how good we've become at phoning home.

RATLOM

2007-07-13T01:36:00.000-04:00

Dear blog,

It's been a while since I last visited you. Let me share some things with you:

I received a visit from S and N. Nice it was to catch up with them and nicer even still to hear about their imminent addition. I'm glad to see that they are starting this miracle child on the right foot as we enjoyed a wonderful prime rib dinner together. Even the impromptu jam session brought me back to an enchanted place called 401 Johnson Street, where such things happened often.

At 2 hours, I knew I was in trouble. But this run was important for me because I felt like I was defeated so badly on a psychological level the year before. I had to push through, and push I did. Never mind that I had not trained nearly as hard this year. Never mind that I put way too much confidence in the long run I did in Toronto just two weeks before, forgetting that Calgary is at a much higher elevation. Never mind that though I was still technically jogging, I was getting passed by the walkers. So, nearly 5 hours after the shotgun was fired (yes, only in Calgary would they start off a marathon with a shotgun; no wimpy air pistols here!) I crossed the finish line. As I always do, I vow never to do such stupidity again. And as I always do do, I find myself thinking of the next race as I recover my legs.

Much too happy for someone who just endured near 5 hours of physical pain...

I heart tennis. After over a year of sitting in storage, I have been able to use my racquet on more than one occasion this summer. Fortunate for me, I have met a neighbor and fellow board member who used to be an avid player. She's a good rally partner because she is recovering from a recent injury. So, we typically hit for no more than 30 minutes and then she's done. Well, we hit for 45 minutes today and find ourselves sitting on the bench, packing up. She offers me half of an apple. I'm agreeable, but I wonder how she's going to give me half. Will she eat half of it then give it to me? Will she offer me to eat half of it then give it to her? Will she rip the thing in half with her bare hands? She opens the front pocket of her racquet cover. AND PULLS OUT A 8" KNIFE!! "I can only eat my apples when they are sliced". Apparently, she doesn't share the same the feeling that is causing my jaw to drop to the ground. I ask if she always carries a knife of that size with her to all of her tennis games. She pauses, then lights up. "Oh yeah! That would work well for strategic intimidation!" I eat my half of the apple very quietly.

Is it possible to be a blacklisted guest? Even if there is no actual list that is physically kept, could one be less inclined to host this person in the future, based on a current experience? For example, let say I hypothetically invite S over for dinner. I hypothetically make 4 cups of rice, "muck" they call it in Chinese, thinking that I will have leftovers for the next few meals. I hypothetically cook up 2 heads of broccoli (and not just the crowns, but stalk and all). I also hypothetically reheat leftover roast beef, oyster pancakes and another Chinese green. I find myself hypothetically looking at a spread that is plentiful enough to feed 5, but this should impress my one guest. Hypothetically, S hasn't eaten all day and begins to work on the spread. Hypothetically, he goes through 4 and half bowls of rice (I typically go through 2) and picks at the remaining food, "sowng" they call it in Chinese, until all the plates are empty. Hypothetically, my Family Sized 3.78L jug of Tropicana stands empty, as are 2 1L bottles of Gerolsteiner. I am reluctant in introducing S to my neighbor's Shih Tzu for fear that he will eat that too. Of course, HAD this happened in real life, I would never blacklist my friend S (who is 5'6" and no more than a buck fiddy by the way). I would just make more food for him! But that got me thinking about whether or not it's possible to get blacklisted from people's hospitality...

Confirmed. Another 2 sets of guests will be gracing Camp Timmy's. And they are also 97's (well, N is an adopted 97, but we can't all be perfect - CHA CHEIL!). B's in town next week and S and N are confirmed to be here in September.

Oh blog. I don't even know if that's your name. It sounds so impersonal. Maybe I should call you RATLOM or something smart like that. Anyways, you've been a faithful golden retriever to me, always waiting for me to pay you some attention, attention that you always embrace and never act like you're entitled to. Please know that it is not because of a lack of inspiration that I have left your recent pages empty. I have found other outlets, 'tis all. But, it's nice to talk to you again!

STAIRWAY FROM HEAVEN

2007-07-13T01:16:00.001-04:00

It started as a conversation about how literal to take the Bible. Honestly, I was just trying to break the silence that nestled between the four of us as we perched on the shale, almost squatting on the slope just to get comfortable. A strong breeze persisted, turning the layer of sweat from the hour long hike into an uncomfortable damp blanket on our bodies. Perhaps because we all called Queen's University our alma mater and perhaps we all grew up with strong science backgrounds, all of us employed in areas where empirical evidence means livelihood. The conversation quickly led to creation and evolution. Darwin was quoted, not for his support of evolution but for his admission that something so complex can ONLY have come from a Creator. Anyways, our wraps were welcomed hungrily by our tummies and we all seemed pretty pleased with the somewhat post-modern, yet somehow pat, answers that we gave, convincing no one, really. All of a sudden, there was a loud thunderous roar. We looked to our right to a common alleyway at the end of the Point Of Six Glaciers hike. The rolling mist at the ridge's top wasn't too visible at first. But then, the first of the snow started falling. But "falling" would be the wrong word to use to describe what we witnessed. Unlike other straight drop avalanches that I've witnessed from this point, this one took the form of a waterfall, cascaded from the ridge and down one invisible step to another. The pile was slow at first but gained momentum as it dropped and changed direction with each step. The roar was now a gentle, but continuous rumble, and I had to keep reminding myself that what I was seeing were large, deadly chunks of snow and ice, not water. This avalanche lasted for more than 2 minutes, a lot longer than any I've ever witnessed. It was the most spectacular 2 minutes I have ever stood still for. Yet, it was definitely not the most silent. It was God speaking. He was saying "silly children. Don't get into arguments about this or that. It doesn't matter. I did this for you".

Resting by the tea house, on the way back.

THERE ARE MANY FOBS IN MY LIFE

2007-06-04T22:47:00.000-04:00

Despite the often unspoken criticism against them, they definitely do serve their purposes in my life. But one recent day, I actually stopped and pondered, no, ANATOMIZED just how much I have taken my relationship with fobs for granted. They are an oft misunderstood and forgotten segment of our society, banished to the likes of our keychains, waistbands and trinket boxes. Yet, when their absence causes a moment of inconvenience or, worst yet, crisis, that is when I must proclaim "I love my fobs! I need my fobs!"

Without my fobs, I can't get in and out of my condo. I'm sure my communal mailbox could be retrofitted so that a fob could get my mail for me (or at the very least grant me access to the mail slot). I can't get into my office without a fob, which includes the main doors, the security gates, the elevator and the actual door leading to my cubicle. Which means I can't go to the washroom without my fob. I can't lock up my bike or take a shower. And from what I hear, there are fobs that pay for your gas. In fact, you don't even need your keys to get in and out of your car or to start it for that matter. Your fob just needs to be close by! Amazing what these fobs can do!

Yes, I love this RFID technology. All you have to do is have your fob (or access card) within a couple of feet of the sensor and all is good: access gained, payment made, engine started. I must admit that having so many of them does cause some minor inconveniences. So, the point of this post stems from one of those hallucinatory moments I had while doing a recent long run. I am certain that there is a pretty coin to be made if, somehow, a programmable RFID transmitter can be embedded into a cell phone or PDA, feeding the right code to the right sensor. This way, you only have to carry one item and discard the many fobs that clutter our lives.

I typically do my long runs on Sundays before service. This usually means that I hobble into church and it is quite a struggle to stay “focused” (read: awake) for the 35 minute sermon. So, as an aid, I’ve been bringing my trusty MEC mug filled with something that has caffeine in it. Thankfully, the consumption of coffee is actually encouraged during service (we have a coffee break right in the middle of the service, which is also time that can be used to greet those sitting nearby). Today, before hobbling into church, I hobble into a nearby Second Cup for a cup of their thickest black gold. No, the other type of black gold as this is Alberta after all. And I am reminded that while living in a smaller city, there is a certain sense of simplicity that accompanies that. I don’t mean less intelligent or incompetent, just a different way of seeing things. Like installing security systems on the houses and cars, yet leaving both unlocked always. Like getting very helpful assistance while shopping at Home Depot from someone who doesn't even work there. So, I'm waiting for my drink and the baristas are talking about how Prince Harry had visited a local nightclub and supposedly hit it up with one of the shooter girls. I didn't what this term was originally; apparently, it's a waitress who delivers the shooters to the patrons). It a really big deal here and has made the front page of the local newspaper. So, the following dialogue ensues between the two baristas:

"I can't believe he was Cowboys. And, he's got this crush on one of the shooter girls" (honestly, I don't remember the last time I heard the term crush not used in the context of high school or below relationships)
"Yeah, I was planning on going but was like too tired. But it's all here in the newspaper."
"Oh, oh! Can I see the pictures?!"
"Finish making the drink first!!!!"

Sounds like they're still looking for Prince Charming...

MA, SANG YUT FIE LOCK!

2007-05-21T23:25:00.000-04:00

DIDN'T DODGE BALL

2007-05-10T10:02:00.000-04:00

I don't remember if I've always been stubborn or if it's something that develops with age. Or perhaps I'm good at finding excuses to put things off when they should be looked after right away.

February 14 is romantically meaningful for many people. Me, I spent it playing dodge ball. I'm not sure if it was because the team that we were playing against had a large number of people who dreaded this day (for them, it's known as Singles Awareness Day), but there was a lot of aggression on the court that night. For a supposedly fun game that has its roots in an elementary school gymnasium, it got ugly. To make things worse, I took a rocket directly off my right pinky finger. Right away, I knew that something was wrong because it was locked in a curled up position - I couldn't unbend my finger.

Convinced that it would heal on its own, time passed without seeking proper attention. Finally, after about 2 months of staring at my finger that looked like it was ready to give birth, I caved in and walked into a medical clinic. The first doctor that saw me scolded me, though I had just met him, for not getting this looked at earlier. He said that the tendon is probably unrepairable and that I might need surgery. He sent me to go get x-rays. No broken bones, which was good news. I returned to the clinic about a week later to get further advice. A second doctor also scolded me for not having this looked at earlier. She was not shy at all in mentioning that this might be a permanent disability. Ouch. She referred me to a hand specialist. Finally, on April 23, I got an appointment to see Dr. Campbell at the Foothills Medical Centre.

After waiting for almost an hour, a tall, young man strolled in, decked out in matching hospital green scrubs. He was a very friendly person and immediately shook my hand. Darn, I wished he read the chart first, because he had a pretty firm grip and just about ripped my very tender pinky out of its socket. After regaining consciousness, I was able to explain to him what was wrong with my finger. He took a very quick glance at it and knew right away what the issue was. He is a hand specialist after all. He quickly pulled up a rolly stool, whipped out his pen, and began detailing his diagnosis on his pants. What?! No word of a lie, he started drawing the metacarpal and phalange bones that made up my pinky finger (proper orientation of the diagram facing me, nonetheless) and finished off by drawing the damaged tendon that connects the metacarpal to the 1st row phalange and the 2 lateral bands that support it. Basically, I had damaged this one centre band and the 2 sides ones were trying to compensate, thus causing my finger to stay in a permanently curled position. Mentally prepared to hear the S word, he proceeds to tell me that surgery is NOT required! The idea is to immobilize the finger in a splint so that the damaged tendon can heal (scar tissuing) and the 2 side bands will fall back into place. I had what is known as a Boutonniere Deformity. This intrigued him and he casually whipped out a digital camera and took a spare towel that was lying around. "My interns have read all about this but they rarely get to see it. Would you mind?" So, my scrub drawing doctor proceeds to stage my finger in various poses and starts snapping away. Interesting to think that some aspiring hand surgeon will have to pass an exam with a picture of my finger!

With the increasingly nice weather, people are more inclined to play outdoors, so dodge ball season is now over. We capped it off with a dodge ball party where we feasted on prosciutto wrapped shrimp, phyllo Mediterranean pizza, sangrias, a healthy game of Scattegories and some very evil mini eclairs.

My original full pinky splint...

I've graduated to a half pinky splint...

AURAL PLEASURES!

2007-05-09T22:10:00.000-04:00

Imogen Heap - "Just For Now"

Virtual Haircut - MUST USE HEADPHONES!!

MY DOG, MY DOG, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?

2007-04-18T23:33:00.000-04:00

I was asked to lead this week's small group discussion. One just has to look to the news to find a relevant topic that could be explored. Unfortunately, this week's news focused mainly on the Virginia Tech shooting (is the real tragedy that 30+ died or that this happens so often in American schools that they can label this "the worst"?) Rather than depressing the group, I digg.com'd the following topic:

ANIMAL RESEARCH

Warm Up

Describe your fondest memory in interacting with an animal. It could be a pet, a farm animal, a hunting experience, the zoo.
Raise your hand and keep it raised if you have consumed the following in the past month: Arm & Hammer baking soda, Bic pen, Herbal Essence or Pantene shampoo, Palmolive dish soap, Purex laundry detergent, Right Guard or Speed Stick deodorant, Aveeno or Lubriderm hand cream, Oil of Olay skin cream, Glade air fresheners, Playtex feminine products.

Animal testing (animal research) refers to the use of animals in experiments. It is estimated that 50 to 100 million animals worldwide (from fruit flies and mice to non-human primates) are used annually and may either be killed during the experiments or subsequently euthanized. The research is carried out inside universities, medical schools, pharmaceutical companies, farms, defense-research establishments, and commercial facilities that provide animal-testing services to industry. Most laboratory animals are bred for research purposes, while a smaller number are caught in the wild or supplied by pounds.

Some highlights of animal research outcomes: development of penicillin (mice), insulin (dogs), organ transplant (dogs), and development of the polio vaccine (mice, monkeys).

History

First recorded references: 3^rd century B.C. Greece (Aristotle)
1880’s: Louis Pasteur demonstrated the germ theory of medicine by giving anthrax to sheep
1890’s: Ivan Pavlov used dogs to demonstrate classical conditioning
1957: Laika (dog) became the first of many animals to orbit the earth, paving the way for human space flight
1996: Dolly (sheep) became the first mammal to be cloned from an adult cell

Types of Research

Pure Research: increase knowledge about the way organisms behave, develop, and function biologically; most research animals fall into this category.

Applied Research: solve specific and practical problems, often relating to the cure of a disease and disorder; typically driven by pharmaceuticals.

Alternatives

Reduction: obtain comparable levels of information from fewer animals, or to obtain more information from the same number of animals.

Replacement: use of non-animal methods over animal methods whenever possible to achieve the same scientific aim.

Refinement alleviate/minimize potential pain, suffering or distress, and enhance animal welfare for the animals still used.

The Views

Testing advocates argue that:

Unethical to test substances/drugs with potentially adverse side-effects on human beings.
Complex animals are good test subjects because of their similarities to humans.
There is no substitute for psychiatric studies (e.g., antidepressant clinical trials) that require behavioral data.
There is no substitute for studies of the infection of a host
Animals have shorter life and reproductive spans; several generations can be studied in a relatively short time.
Animals bred especially for animal-testing purposes arrive at the laboratory free from disease.
Humans that use medicine derived from animal research are healthier (many examples of substances causing death or injury to human beings because of inadequate animal testing)
Over 10 times more animals are used by humans for other purposes (agriculture, hunting, pest control) than are used in animal testing. 100 million animals are killed by hunting each year. 150 million large mammals are used in agriculture each year. Hundreds of millions of rats are involved in pest control. Over seven million dogs and cats are euthanized from animal shelters each year, and a million animals are killed each day by automobiles.

Opponents argue that:

Animal suffering is excessive in relation to whatever benefits may be reaped. Any benefits to human beings cannot outweigh the suffering of the animals. In practice, it leads to the widespread abuse of animals.
Animals do not consent to being tested upon.
Bad science: many animal models of disease are induced and cannot be compared to the human disease.
Some drugs have dangerous side-effects that were not predicted by animal models
Some drugs appear to have different effects on human and other species
The most vocal proponents of animal testing have vested interests in maintaining the practice.

Bible Quotes/Misquotes

Genesis 1:29-31 – God’s vegetarian diet

Genesis 9:1-2 – God’s carnivore diet

Act 9 – Peter’s Vision

Isiah 11:6 – the complete picture

It is very easy to use (partial) scripture to support a position; yet, if one reads the verses before and after, it usually paints a different picture.

Q & Eh?

Is it nutritionally possible to survive without eating meat? Why don’t people choose that type of diet?

Who can stand spiders, mosquitoes, flies, cockroaches? How easy is it for you to kill one (or convince someone to kill one for you)?

Do animals possess souls?

Some interesting discussion came out of this. At times, it veered towards herbivore vs. carnivore diets, to hunting (there were at least 3 in the group who were hunters or whose husbands were hunters), to the idea of stewardship of not only animals but all of Creation, including nature. Some memorable quotes:

"What's the difference between me killing my own meat or going to the supermarket and getting meat that's been killed by someone else?"

"My husband grew up with 3 brothers and they all hunted, but he would cry each time he shot a gopher. His dad spanked him for that."

"All the examples in the second warm up question are from companies that test on animals."

"My dad is not a Christian, but he hunts. It gets him out to exercise, he connects with nature and he has a sense of peace. He will eat what he kills and will also give to those who are down on their luck. He had a deep sense of respect of the animal that he hunts."

BYE WINTER, HELLO STRING

2007-03-20T23:20:00.000-04:00

I'm always impressed, as a guitarist, by all my friends who are violinists. On a guitar, I'm lucky because there are frets and I stand a higher chance of hitting my notes in tune. For violinists (and any other fretless string instrument), a combination of good intonation and dexterity is required.

FOREFATHERS

2007-03-18T22:30:00.000-04:00

It's important to me that, each time I visit Toronto, I take the time to go visit my grandfathers. Curiously, there is a trend of the male side of my family being outlived by their female counterparts. Yet, I find the visit to the respective cemeteries of my grandfathers very consoling. It is a reminder to me of where I come from and who I am currently. Things that I do today can have lasting impacts, even beyond my living life. In my stash of memories, I have many meaningful ones of these visits (although I find that as each year passes, the exact location of the specific plots become more faint - thank goodness for PDA's). During the time of "ching ming", our entire family would gather at my grandfather's plot. We would take the time to make his area nice, removing the old flowers and replacing them with fresh ones. We would also pour my grandfather some wine and bring some food to him. Paper money would be placed on his headstone or burned in a makeshift oilcan, to ensure that he could have enjoyable spending sprees at whatever after-life retail outlets he might find himself in. We would then proceed to eat lunch with him, often a spread of roasted suckling pig, an amazing collection of buns, sticky rice and various fruit. At this point, the cousins would be chatting it up, catching up since family gatherings like these become less frequent.

Today, it was just my immediate family. Still about 2 weeks ahead of when ching ming is, the cemeteries were quiet. No crowds, no fuss about finding a parking spot, no overflowing garbage bins. The four of us gathered around the plot, placed the fresh bouquet of tulips at the base of his headstone and secured it with some stones. At one point, there often is a moment of reflection that is spent differently by different members of the family. Some will do the tradition bowing, some will talk to the headstone, some just stand in silence. Today, my dad said a few meaningful words to his father. Me, I relished the fact that our clan of 4 was together once again, albeit the gathering catalyzed by trying circumstances. I wondered at what words of wisdom my grandfather would have said to us, looking up at us from where he laid. I am certain that he would see how strong our family ties are, that no matter what things happen upon our lives, we are resilient and will successfully tough it out. I also thanked him because I know that, somehow, he plays a part in keeping the scales of trials/blessings balanced.

THE BEAR ESSENTIALS

2007-03-17T22:50:00.000-04:00

It's been rather busy these past few weeks. To not fall off the blog wagon, a slightly light entry:

Because this pertains to my childhood, I suppose this entry poses little risk to any current reputation damage. I'm guessing that most kids, boys and girls alike, have a stash of plush animals that kept them company and served as props for many silly stories. During a recent visit to my parents' house, I took a stroll down memory lane:

"Cheurn-Cheurn"

Though his name is clearly marked on his muscle shirt (?), Quan-Quan was renamed to Cheurn-Cheurn because that's how I heard it pronounced on the news. He, and a buddy, were all the craze at the Toronto Zoo in the early eighties: celebrity pandas who were visiting from China. My parents took my sister and I to visit them and I was absolutely delighted!

"My Friendly Bear"

Yeah, didn't get too creative with this guy's name. My Friendly Bear (MFB) was Cheurn-Cheurn's best friend, and helped to defend against my sister's scarf bear gang. MFB was a Christmas gift from a church friend.

"Beary-Bear"

I swear my sister named him "Beary Bear" but, somewhere down the road, he became "Bearington Bear". He was usually docile, but sometimes would be found sitting on Cheurn- Cheurn and making me very upset. That's when I would unleash MFB's fury. I feel bad now, because Bearington Bear isn't able to quite sit upright (here, he's propped up against the wall).

"Charity Bear"

I believe Charity was one of the later additions to my sister's scarf bear gang. When you purchased him from Eaton's, a portion of the purchase was donated to charity. Charity was like the leader of the gang, never getting his paws dirty but always apt in deploying his minions to incite terror on my bears. Notice how his coat is still so pristine white!

After many years of unsolvable conflict, the bears are at peace now.

MY VISIT TO HEAVEN...

2007-03-16T00:33:00.000-04:00

Once again, I find myself blessed with the opportunity of going to Whistler for some sick riding! Rather than making the incredibly crazy (and incredibly dangerous) drive, we decided to fly to Vancouver and then get driven up to the resort. Of course, a seat sale also helped to make this mode of transportation easier.

The moment we landed in Vancouver, it was raining. It rained during the entire drive up to the resort and pretty much all of the next 2 days. A rain jacket wasn't an item I even contemplated bringing. Yet, as we got up to the heavenly heights of the runs, all that precipitation turned to snow. It was a little wet but very ridable. The temperatures dropped after the second day and it stopped raining. The slush from the previous day turned into ice and this made for some interesting riding. Instead of giving up, we rode up the other mountain and discovered that conditions can vary greatly from one peak to the other. It's about persistence and the willingness to ride on different terrains. Overall, it was a great trip and I'm glad I got in 4 solid days of riding before having to head back to Calgary. The great thing about Whistler is that it's not just about the awesome riding. There is a whole other schedule once that board comes off: the apres-ski at Zog's (yes, had the artery clogging Great Canadian poutine, TWICE!) or Old Spaghetti Factory (I've never seen such a huge nacho platter before), the walking around the village and, of course, the dinners at various restaurants (another amazing dinner at Sushi Village).

Although it may appear that I'm getting some sick air, in fact, I'm sitting on a slope with my board's tail resting into the snow. Still, I think it's a nice shot...

My riding partner, D.

View from a chairlift.

My helmet resting in the snow, contrasting the awesome cliff behind me.

WE ARE JUST HERE FOR A WHILE...

2007-02-27T23:31:00.000-05:00

Having just recently celebrated his second year as a visitor to planet Earth, E enters a vaguely familiar, well lit food place. Above him is a small plasma screen (sadly, he will grow up not knowing that televisions were ever large and clunky), flashing pictures of overly delectable desserts that can be had at East Side Mario's. Of course, E's attention is drawn to this and he

a. quickly forgets that he is in a foreign place with foreign people, thus no longer requiring his wall of shyness
b. is now determined that he is hungry for nothing else except for ice cream!

There is a stranger sitting in the seat in front of him, someone he has not seen before, someone with a monosyllabic name. The bigger people speak throughout the meal and E gets frustrated that

a. they're not paying attention to him
b. the bigger people keep speaking gibberish that he doesn't understand.

E makes a mental note that he must stop thinking in bolded, bulleted lists as he devours the ice cream.

It's easy to take friends for granted. It's easy to think that they will always be around, a phone call or MSN message away. For me, my circle of friends first gathered together in the common rooms of various dormitories at Queen's University. Then it was in the dining room/living room/Saturday night singing room/make shift blue angel competition area of our respective houses off campus. Then, we all grew up, acquired adopted housemates, found a mortgage, and were soon gathering in our own houses. Not much has changed: it still involves a lot of eating (albeit not 4 BK Whoppers at a time), laughing our butts off (albeit Stephen Chow and Homer Simpson seem to be missing from the mix) and still, someone is gaming. Yup, imagine a room full of 30+ year olds playing tennis on the Wii! It doesn't really matter where the venue is anymore; it's more about the gathering. And nothing is as special as having this same group crowd into a small hotel room, order some pizza and pop, tune in to the Raptor game and play some poker!

Tim is down to his final chips. He's gotta make his move soon. He is dealt an Ace and a seven. It's risky but this might be the last Ace he'll see.

"All in." J, sees Tim's bet as mere chump change, decides to humor him and calls. He's got a Queen and a nine. Tim has the lead in probability right now.

Tim says a half hearted prayer once the cards are revealed: "Please, please, no Queens, no nines."

Flop: six, nine, nine

Tim: "crap". He has a better chance now of having a bird fly in through the window and smack him upside the head than winning this hand.

Turn: nine

To add insult to injury, J just landed a 4 of a kind.

Really, even if THAT didn't happen, that night will be forever etched in my mind. If you asked those same guys when they were snot-nosed froshies, they would've never said that one day, they would find themselves in that hotel room. Yet, even as they were leaving, there was this sense of connection. Never minding the fact that this night just ended, we WOULD pick up where we left off the next time we met. We've accepted the fact that we've changed, or more like, life has changed and we've become willing participants. But our friendships, thankfully, were never frozen in time. We all decided to go along for the ride.

Speaking of travel, where to go next?

OH BABY BABY!

2007-02-11T21:03:00.000-05:00

I sit myself down in one of the back rows after our final set, in a seat beside a rather burly gentleman, his bodily form occupying a bit of my seat. No worries; I would just hold my breathe for the remainder of the service! Besides, I think there is a lack of physical contact in this society where everyone has their own established "no-fly" zones.

It is hard to see the communicator clearly on the stage from my position. So, I find myself looking up at one of the 4 screens where the live feed is projected. At one point, I am stopped in my tracks. The communicator was speaking in his usual, animated fashion. But something on the lower left hand corner of the screen caught my eye. It was my guitar! The way that they had framed the speaker was such that my guitar was sitting there, on its stand, in plain view the entire time.

At that moment, I must have felt what many proud parents feel when their child is given some honour. Perhaps they receive an award for a piano competition, or has scored the winning goal. THE PARENTS BEAM. And there I was, beaming at the fact that my guitar was part of this backdrop, not really due to anything else aside from its random placement. I had to fight the temptation to turn to the guy beside me and exclaim "That's my guitar there!"

That sent me drowning in a flood of nostalgia. Probably the same routine a beaming, proud parent experiences at these type of moments, unbeknownst to their child. I started reflecting on the times of my life that was shared with this, more than just a musical instrument. My "baby"!

1993 - baby is born; actually, it was picked up at a guitar store in Brampton, after having returned an Ovation knock-off that was my original purchase; frustrated, I said to the salesman "I just want a guitar that will last me forever!" He brings me into the special guitar room which is behind glass and is properly humidified. He says "Do you know that song More Than Words ?" C'mon, what hormone-excited high school senior doesn't know the top love song of that time? "Well, they play that song on this guitar, a Washburn EA-20". He doesn't have to say anything else and baby is brought home.

1993 - Still amazed that they chose my song to be that year's theme song, I get to lead it in front of 800 people on my baby!

1993-1996 - Unable/unwilling to lug my piano to university, my much-more-portable baby comes along for some higher education. Many, many, many hours which should have been spent prepping for med school were spent with my baby instead. Hence, I am not a doctor today, but an okay guitarist.

1994 - Never trust your baby to unscreened "baby-sitters"! I left baby in the care of a fellow classmate over reading week, thinking it would be safer in an all girls dorm than in my ghetto house north of Princess. I come back to find a huge crack in the case because, while the guitar was kept underneath the bed, that person decided to do a rendition of "No more monkeys jumping on the bed". Luckily, the case did its job and baby was not hurt.

1994 - 2004 - A multitude of John 424 gigs, ranging from various churches to the Metro Convention Centre to various outdoor venues: Mel Lastman Square, Earl Bales Park and a float during a (now questionable) parade.

2001 - In my lap while on my knees in front of Lake Ontario in Kingston, while persuading someone to say yes.

I think that I can proudly say that I've taken care of my baby for all these years. Yes, it's not the gleaming white that it originally was, leaning more towards cream. Yes, she's been good to me and nice to my fingers. At first, I remember (shamefully) feeling uncomfortable when people's usual first comment was: "It's a white guitar?" But, now I'm proud of the fact that she's different, like me. She's been the source of inspiration and expression, when many times I feel misunderstood. And, although I continually dream about getting a Taylor, she will always be my baby!

HOW TO MELT A GROWN MAN'S HEART

2007-02-11T20:58:00.000-05:00

When I'm asking the question "So, what do you feel like eating tonight?" and the response comes back "How about some Alberta beef?". I don't care how far Cattle Baron is, anytime I have an "excuse" to go, I am in heaven!

As if it couldn't get any better, a nice cab sauv and some D-lightful conversation to go along with it...

POCKET BELLS

2007-02-09T00:21:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, you just have to laugh!

RECOVERY

2007-02-04T23:29:00.000-05:00

Should not have stayed up to 4 a.m. to watch the Australian Open finals. Only got to catch the first set of a very predictable match anyways. The cost: one full week of being sick, having my entire sleep schedule thrown off and having to skip a whole week of working out. Grrrr.

To "celebrate" the departing last remnants of my cold, I found myself across the street at Shillelagh's, an authentic Irish pub, to catch yet another sporting event final. I believe so that my celebration was well paced, a pint per quarter, evening out the layer of absorbant material in my stomach that consisted of wings and Quesadilla. I had a friendly bet with C. on who would win. Her main selection criteria was uniform colour. So she picked the Colts. I knew that Peyton's crew looked better on paper, but I had to disprove her theory. And now she is one lunch up on me and another $50 richer off her misguided Bears friends.

I've recently discovered a "new" radio station in Calgary and have been listening to it all the time. It's a flavour of contemporary jazz/rock/electronica that I haven't heard in awhile. Some would probably argue that this type of music belongs in an elevator but I like listening to it because it's a more challenging type of music to play live. It's got a nice chillin' groove to it and I was first introduced to it while working in my former sales life. It's called West Coast Jazz and I first got hooked on it while in LA back in 2000. The station here that plays it is appropriately name California 103.

Work's been busy as we just wrapped up the interviewing and selection of a new accountant. I still can't get over the fact that someone put "Microsoft Spreadsheeting" as one of their skills! Less than 10 more sleeps and I'll be in T dot. I'm looking forward to that. To make it go by even faster, I'll be shredding my axe at Westside this weekend, gonna meet up with Z who's here on training from the Toronto office and D, who'll be here this weekend.

THE GOOD EARTH

2007-01-24T01:50:00.000-05:00

"Now Wang Lung had never in his youth or at any time learned the meaning of letters upon paper, and he could not, therefore, make anything out of such paper covered with black marks and pasted upon city gates or upon walls or sold by the handful or even given away. Twice he had such paper given him.

The first time it was given by a foreigner such as the one he had pulled unwittingly in his ricksha one day, only this one who gave him the paper was a man, very tall, and lean as a tree that has been blown by bitter winds. This man had eyes as blue as ice and a hairy face, and when he gave the paper to Wang Lung it was seen that his hands were also hairy and red-skinned. He had, moreover, a great nose projecting beyond his cheeks like a prow beyond the sides of a ship and Wang Lung although frightened to take anything from his hand, was more frightened to refuse, seeing the man's strange eyes and fearful nose. He took what was thrust at him, then, and when he had courage to look at it after the foreigner had passed on, he saw on the paper a picture of a man, white-skinned, who hung upon a crosspiece of wood. The man was without clothes except for a bit about his loins, and to all appearances he was dead, since his head drooped upon his shoulder and his eyes were closed above his bearded lips. Wang Lung looked at the pictured man in horror and with increasing interest. There were characters beneath, but of these he could make nothing.

"Surely this was a very evil man to be thus hung."

But Wang Lung was fearful of the picture and pondered as to why a foreigner had given it to him, whether or not some brother of this foreigner's had not been so treated and the other brethren seeking revenge. He avoided, therefore, the street on which he had met the man and after a few days, when the paper was forgotten, O-lan (his wife) took it and sewed it into a shoe sole together with other bits of paper she picked up here and there to make the soles firm."

ABRACADABRA!!

2007-01-23T00:34:00.000-05:00

Kids come up with the wackiest of ideas. At some point, most of us lose that innocent way in viewing the world, as different experiences and disappointments start diluting the brilliant colours that is life, until we start seeing everything in different shades of gray. There are a fractional few who can keep an unfiltered outlook, no matter what happens in life.

I am sitting in my most recent BSF class, fighting the urge to burst out in complete disagreement, as a conversation about prosperity theology emerges. The question was posed: "What physical or material advantages have you been given, and how have you used them to serve God?" It is this kind of thinking that I feel often misleads people to the church, that somehow by acquiring faith, you also acquire the entitlement to material wealth. Anyways, people are naming off their "things" and how these "things" have helped them in their spiritual walks, and then B puts up his hand, as if we were back in grade school and he didn't want to speak out of turn.

"I'm thankful for magic. I can do magic tricks, get kids' attention and tell them about Jesus".

He goes on to explain how magic is like an international language, that everyone "gets" it. Here is a twenty-something-year-old man, recently married, and working as an electrician. And, without fail, he brings a certain refreshment to the class, reminding all of us jaded people that innocence is not only for the naive, but for everyone because that is where we came from.

"Hey Tim, did you know that if you say Allah three times, you stop being a Christian?"

Being 8 years old and very impressionable, I really have no choice but to believe M. He is one of my closest friends and I never doubt his smarts, even though he makes me laugh all the time. Especially when we're at church and hiding behind the wooden pews while some boring adult talks for what seems like forever.

He keeps whispering over: "Allah, Allah, A.....Psych!"

I'm sitting there, unable to hide my anxiety, petrified that at any second, my best friend was going to Hell! He keeps torturing me.

"The CN Tower is T-Allah, Eaton Centre is a big M-Allah, I like to play basket-b-All....Psych!"

Just then, the boring adult stops what he's saying in mid-sentence and glares angrily over at us: "You two, please pay attention!" We both sit very still, but I'm relieved, for I'm thinking that since we both have to keep silent, my best friend has just been saved from Hell.

THE HOLE THAT NEEDS TO BE FILLED

2007-01-21T10:37:00.000-05:00

I saw Apocalypto recently, Mel Gibson's latest production. It was quite the intense movie that struck me as a truthful commentary on the human nature, no matter what era you find yourself in. During a time of peace, the community was gathered together, listening to wise one:

And a man sat alone, drenched deep in sadness.
And all the animals drew near to him and said:
"We do not like to see you so sad. Ask us for whatever you wish and you shall have it."
The Man said: "I want to have good sight."
The Vulture replied: "You shall have mine."
The Man said: "I want to be strong."
The Jaguar said: "You shall be strong like me."
Then the Man said: "I long to know the secrets of the earth."
The Serpent replied: "I will show them to you."
And so it went with all the animals.
And when the Man had all the gifts that they could give he left.
Then the Owl said to the other animals: "Now the Man knows much, he'll be able to do many things, suddenly I am afraid."
The Deer said: "The Man has all that he needs. Now his sadness will stop."
But the Owl replied: "No. I saw a hole in the Man. Deep like a hunger he will never fill."

If I think of all the bad things that happen in this world, globally and to me personally, I can only attribute them to this unending motivation to fill this hole.

LIFE'S PURPOSE

2007-01-21T10:25:00.000-05:00

Is living life to the fullest finding a way to live the longest life you can or is it living it just long enough to do the one thing that you were meant to...

INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE; PLENTY INSANE, GOT NO BRAIN!

2007-01-17T02:24:00.000-05:00

Typically, it is not socially acceptable to cry in public, at least not for a guy. You are definitely forbidden to shed a tear even after experiencing intense physical pain (like getting drilled in the jewels by a red rubber ball while playing dodge ball) or watching a sappy movie (if you haven't already had your masculinity questioned for even making the mistake of being in the theatre where one is showing in the first place).

33 Dec. 25 FERNIE ALPINE RESOSRT TICFERNIE BC $
For the second Christmas in a row, I find myself up at 5 a.m., loading up the car with food, various items of clothing, my ARCHOS mp3 player, and my snowboard. Again, I find myself heading west, into BC, in search of glorious powder. This time, instead of driving through the mountains (which really aren't that visible at this time of day anyways), I am now driving through rolling plains, the occasional midget peak popping up here and there. I am absolutely blown away as we drive through Frank, a small town completely buried in a rock slide in the early 1900's. The road I drive on snakes through the rubble. The irony of a town built right beside this rubble, with the guilty mountain who spewed its unwanted shale still looming, is lost on me. Another hour and a bit and we pull into Fernie, the start of a 3 day adventure in riding some of the best powder ever! I had no fears of being borderline reckless because I knew that if I fell, I would be landing in 30+ cm of the biggest, fluffiest pillows you could imagine. Sandwiched in between 2 days of Fernie was a jaunt to Kimberley. With it mainly groomed trails, this provided a much needed rest for the spent legs from doing the more technical powder bowls the day before. And it was perfect in ensuring that there was enough juice for the following day's visit to the more technical side of Fernie.

At our dodge ball party this past weekend (c'mon, dodge ball people can be cool too!) we ended up playing Cranium. One part of the game involves selecting an "artist" from both teams to draw on a pad with enough clues to entice your team members to successfully guess the answer. Sort of like Pictionary. Each artist is handed the answer card, looks at what they need to draw, and then the round begins. Our team was stoked, knowing that correctly identifying the answer would surely tip the momentum of the game in our favour. Our artist was even more stoked at the surety of his drawing skills. It started off well, as our team was able to guess that there were two words to the answer, the second one being "cat". Our artists was now working furiously to try to provide enough for us to guess the first part of the answer. "Tomcat", "Bobcat", "Thundercat", and anything else that ended in "cat" was shouted enthusiastically by my team, certain that we were going to get this before the other team, who, up to this point, was fairly quiet. Suddenly, someone on the other team shouted "spotlight" and the round was done. All of my team was dumbfounded by the actual answer. I could not, for the life of me, see how "spotlight" and "something-cat" were related. Our artist was protesting, exclaiming that "spotlight" was not the right answer. We all look at the card now, automatically assuming that the other artist had forgotten what they were supposed to be drawing. We all peer in, closely.

45 Dec. 31 GASBAR # 1777 CALGARY AB $
Spoiled by the conditions seen in BC, Lake Louise lacks lustre, especially since it appeared that everyone in Calgary decided to come here, today. The long lines reminded me of Blue Mountain, which I had heard wasn't even able to make snow because of the warm weather blanketing Ontario. With so much driving (most memorably the drive back to Calgary from Fernie in near white-out conditions and having all-you-can-eat rice at downtown Sushi Tokyo), these GasBar transactions are frequent. New Year's Eve was fairly quiet, but pleasantly bejewelled by J&D dropping by to toast it in with some Bicardi Breezers. Horray for 2007!

Data Head. Star Performer. Word Worm. And one more. Each category demands a different skillset, whether it is knowing trivia, being able to hum a tune so your teammates can guess the name of it, or being able to spell a word sdrawkcab without writing it down. The last category is the one that requires the use of tactile and creative skills, like sculpting putty or drawing something on a piece of paper, which is what we were doing. The name of this category, Creative Cat. So, while the other artist saw the actual answer on the card (spotlight), our artist saw Creative Cat (every game card has the category name on it) and thought that was the answer. The look of frustration and desperation on his face was priceless as he was trying to think of how to draw "Creative". After realizing what had happened, I was laughing so hard I started crying. We all were. So, masculinity preserved!

MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES, FRIEND!

2007-01-15T02:24:00.001-05:00

I swore that I would never be one of those that would let a month pass without speaking to you. It seems that since the last time we spoke, I anticipated a hectic few weeks to follow, but never did I imagine how my life would have been completely flipped inside out, following a schedule so foreign to me. Sadly, one of the joys of speaking to you have been to capture the impressions of my ever failing memory as things happen, yet, by not doing so, I now find myself trying to remember exactly what had happened by, even more sadly, going through my credit card receipts. For these are the only shards of evidence that prove that I truly had experience, like someone suspected of a crime in CSI that has to come up with an alibi. And yet, life proceeds. New memories are created as new experiences imbibed. And who else could I even dare dream of using a word like "imbibe" with, without getting laughed at? Please forgive me for my neglect and unfaithfulness. Let me make it up to you by covenanting to restart sharing my experiences with you. Let me also amuse you with the things that I had neglected before.

18 Dec. 22 CALGARY ZOO-ADMISSION CALGARY AB $
Having been in Calgary for over a year now, I have driven by the Calgary Zoo many times. I thought I had outgrown the zoo, that it was a place reserved for parents seeking solitude from screaming kids and, letting the kid's imagination be whisked away into the animal kingdom, or installing the fear that should they ever misbehave, they will go "meet the lions". Yet, I find myself in the zoo for the 3rd time in as many weeks. Sure, the 2nd time didn't really count because it was for their famed night time "Zoo-lites", but I was starting to feel like I knew my way around without a map.

Don't look at my fingers which are in such a decrepit state. I actually don't remember the last time I picked up my guitar for longer than a few strums. Probably a John424 event. The idea of leaving it out on its stand was to encourage me to continue playing. Unfortunately, the visitation has been sporadic at best, the guitar succeeding more in collecting dust than play. I was recently accepted to play on a worship team at Westside and this week was my first time. The music program is pretty heavy into gospel and jazz. So, not only did I have to get my guitar chops back up to speed, I also had to figure out 9,11,13 voicings!

27 Dec. 24 IMPERIAL BOWL RESTAURA CALGARY AB $
Having no desire (and, really, noone for) to cook a turkey, I found myself a little hardpressed in finding a place to eat before the Christmas eve service. Having just returned from a hike out to Prairie View, my growling stomach only exasperated the problem. You can count on the good ol' Chinese restaurants who, when every other restaurant closes in a city, will remain open. Despite its obvious catering towards the Western palette, it was one of the most delicious meals I've had, fortune cookie included.

I have always found playing the guitar easier with shortened fingernails. One drawback is that I also tend to be quite clumsy with the nail clippers, cutting too short. I quickly discovered that I did this (once again) at my afternoon activity: beach volleyball! Yes, beach volleyball in the middle of January when it is -15 outside is quite an insane thing to do. Luckily, I was playing in a heated indoor volleyball bubble (a facility similar to TO's NorthBeach, but which housed hard courts as well). We were warming up and, at one point, I looked at the ball and saw blood splotches. My middle finger was covered in blood (some of it already dried) as a result of the (shortened) nail coming plied apart from the cuticle. Carry on. The sand was soft and the play was quite decent. I was playing with many whom I just met, mainly PHD candidates or post-docs at the U of C. And all whom are from abroad. In fact, I was the only one that didn't speak with an European accent, which I thought was really cool (especially when people started swearing in their mother tongues!) Only as I was towelling off did I realize that 3 hours had passed and that I was severely dehydrated. I seem to recall, sentimentally, having these same feelings during many hot, summer Sundays down at Ashbridges in TO.

BUSY DECEMBER!

2006-12-18T14:22:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-12-16T18:53:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-10T14:51:00.000-05:00

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…

THE HIGH IN CALGARY IS MINUS 24

2006-11-27T01:03:00.000-05:00

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)...

BRIEFLY...

2006-11-17T00:48:00.000-05:00

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!

KISS, SLAP

2006-11-13T23:29:00.000-05:00

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!"

BEEP BEEP!

2006-11-11T18:41:00.000-05:00

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 timing 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 cap 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.

THE QUEST OF CALINTHGORY

2006-11-05T10:06:00.000-05:00

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...

COMING TO A BLOG NEAR YOU!

2006-11-03T21:36:00.000-05:00

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

MY NEW YORK ADVENTURE

2006-10-24T17:04:00.000-04:00

The yellow cab pulled up in front of the hotel. Being in the state of New York (although not directly in the famed city part for which this commuting experience is more commonly known for), I instinctively, though not entirely consciously, put on the seat belt. I was somewhat distracted. I had to do a double take, because it was Kevin Federline (or least someone who resembled the few glimpses I've ever seen of this supposed celebrity) behind the wheel. The slightly off-centred, backwards tilted baseball cap and the large gold chain that hung around his neck, along with a face that couldn't have been older than 17 years, should have set off some warning bells that perhaps my original cab driver was a victim of a robbery and this impersonator had his next victim strapped in. But his authenticity was validated as he radioed in his status. Except he wasn't familiar with the road of where my destination was, and relayed this back to the dispatcher. "What the F*&#! Are you trippin'? It's off Western!!" As this exchange was going on, I had whipped out the Google Map that I had printed off ahead of time, showing the step by step direction of how to get from the hotel to my destination. The next thing I knew, Kevin took the map from me and, as he was whipping down the road in what I envision as typical New York cabbie breakneck style, carefully studied it. While doing so, he managed to dodge through traffic and speed through 2 amber lights. At the one red light that he couldn't make (maybe because there was already cross traffic that was blocking his path), he throws the map back at me and reaches into the driver's side door pocket. For an Egg McMuffin. Obviously, he appears not to be able to drive with BOTH hands free. After inhaling the breakfast sandwich, he proceeded to finish off an extra large coffee. I finally arrived at my destination, wishing I hadn't agreed to the hotel's free continental breakfast.

I'm not sure what these things do to your brain, but at some point during an all day training session, you start losing it. Or you start hearing what should be benign things that just make you crack up hysterically. Anyone in energy knows that it's an industry that has way too many acronyms. People can carry entire conversations without using a complete word. I'm trying my best to comprehend the information about an accounting and settlements system that I've just been pummelled with for the past 5 hours when I hear: "Back in my office, I'm having problems downloading the B.O.; can you send me something for my B.O.?" I look around and people are agreeing, apparently experiencing the same challenge. But they all look so serious and that makes me want to crack up even more! "Have you tried customizing your A.D.D.?" I can't contain myself. I have to step out because if I bite my tongue any harder, I would never be able to taste food again.

And I love the accent of the people here. They sound like they could be from Toronto. Then, all of a sudden and without warning, they'll say "awwwwwwl" with the deepest of Brooklyn drawls. It's like a switch that can be turned on and off!

2006-10-15T13:23:00.000-04:00

Give a man a fish and he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish and he eats for life. BUT WHAT HAPPENS IF THE EMPORER OWNS ALL THE EXCLUSIVE FISHING RIGHTS?

GO LEAFS GO!

2006-10-15T01:23:00.000-04:00

At this time of year, the leaves start turning into their flamboyant colours, detaching themselves and slowly pirouetting to the ground. As if they can't wait to remind us of the other stuff that will soon be slowly floating to the ground. This time of year always sparks memories from my childhood. It is cold enough that, by the time I had run back to the house, the sweat from playing outside all day had already turned into a cold, damp towel around my body. After a quick, warm shower, I would make my way to the kitchen, usually to help Mom get the table ready for dinner. Any stubborn chill still remaining in my body disappears as I drink some of her warm "tong", a Chinese soup that was always present at dinner. But, despite her efforts at preparing, yet, another amazing meal, I would wolf down the food as fast as I could. That was because at 7:30 p.m. sharp, I would always be found, religiously, in front of the TV, watching Hockey Night in Canada. My weekly devotion to my beloved Maple Leafs. My mom actually started objecting to me watching hockey at one point because I would get so excited (or so upset, depending on the outcome of the game), that I couldn't sleep properly. For the better part of the past year, I've had to be a closet Maple Leaf fan. Living in Calgary, EVERYONE is a Flames fan and there's a reason for their passion. (Pro) Sports fans here really only have hockey and (Stampeder) football to choose from, so their loyalties tend to be less divided. And if you're not a Flames fan, you might as well change your name to Sophie and declare that you have six toes. So, I managed to pick up tonight's game between the Leafs and the Flames on my bunny ears (it's odd, when I refer to my TV antenna that way, people give me strange looks) and it turned out to be a great game. Especially when Mats Sundin scored the winning goal in overtime with the Leafs shorthanded due to a very questionable, very late penalty! I was hooping and hollering (probably the only in the entire city). Yeah, I don't think I'll be sleeping too well tonight!

PROPS TO YUNUS

2006-10-15T00:26:00.000-04:00

Well, my work with Kiva just got a little busier. I suddenly remember back in February that it was just announced that Bono was nominated for this year's Nobel Peace prize. Well, this year's winner is Muhammad Yunus, founder of the Grameen Bank in Bangladesh. Many consider him the founding father of microfinance. And now, I'm seeing a lot more posts about microfinance in general, and the growing interest in Kiva.

From reading these blogs, I get the sense that people living in an affluent society don't think that giving is necessarily a bad idea. The challenge is finding the right vehicle that is practical and relevant. The fact that Kiva loaners can follow how their "investment" is doing through frequently updated journals and to actually see the progress of how much the loan has been paid back, makes one feel more connected to the cause. YOU START TAKING OWNERSHIP OF WHAT HAPPENS. Plus, most people in this society could easily spend $25 on coffee alone in one week's time without thinking twice. This is more than just giving money out of charity; this is about creating something that is sustainable. This is something that prompts all who are involved (the ones who are in more need and the ones who are in less need) to become better people. Quick, band-aid solutions rarely offer the opportunity for ongoing community and dialogue. But I also realize that this is a journey that everyone needs to travel down (for me, it started with the question "What should I do if a homeless person asks me for money?") and different people will arrive at different intersections.

So, what does Bono do when, in the rare occassion, he doesn't win an accolade for his humanitarian efforts? He goes RED! It's an interesting concept of trying to engage an already materially distracted society for a good cause. Although it's amazing (well, depends on how cynical you are, because it could be seen as an attempt to gain good social responsibility PR credits) to be able to gather such an all star line up of lifestyle branded corporations, it doesn't help to stave our addiction to things. In fact, if you didn't own an iPod up to this point, you might even convince yourself to buy a red one just for the sake of that $10 being donated. It's a good first step; but back to people becoming better people. Nevertheless, the manifesto is worth the read..

HEADS UP!

2006-10-13T14:43:00.000-04:00

I've come to really enjoy my current Wednesday night ritual, where you will find me in some high school gym playing some elementary school game. DODGE BALL. It's actually quite funny thinking about the concept: grown women and men, running around an enclosed space, chucking red rubber balls at each other. And because grown people have bad memories, they've really dumbed down the game: it's not King's Court or any sophisticated variation. When you get hit, you're out until one of your teammates catches the ball. The team of six that doesn't have all of its members eliminated wins. I certainly see the appeal amongst grown-ups playing this game. What better way to work out life's stresses than by projecting them onto the ball and throwing it away as hard as you can? And it's quite a work out, running around, squatting to avoid being hit, launching the ball as hard as you can. But the thing I find most interesting about this game is that you can win this game defensively; if a team decides not to throw a single ball at all, they can still win. This is because whenever you throw the ball and it is caught before it hits the ground, you're out. So, playing a defensive game has many appeals.

1. It's so awesome seeing your competitor become deflated after they throw the ball as hard as they can and it's caught (plus, the rubber balls make quite the smack when you catch it in your chest, adding even more of a dramatic effect)
2. When you catch the ball, one of your teammates who was out gets to come back in (you're actually doing communal good)
3. Catching requires less energy than throwing the ball, accurately, as hard as you can.

So, in my opinion, they should call this game Catch Ball, although it probably wouldn't have the same marketing appeal. Time to go practice. I'm sure I can find a willing participant, because, as they say "If you can dodge wrenches, you can dodge balls!"

STRANGEST LUCK

2006-10-10T14:24:00.000-04:00

I must be living one of the most ironic lives. Take for example this morning. I'm riding my bike to work and get to the point on my route where I need to ride over a gravel road to get to the joining pathway. The tires on my bike are "slicks", manufactured with no grooves for traction. I turned too sharply and, before I knew it, I was tumbling to the ground, unable to unclip out of my pedals fast enough to brace myself against the fall. Having fallen enough times this year, the shock or embarrassment no longer bothers me. I did see, however, that my chain had fallen off the rear cog. Thinking that it would be easier to replace the chain with the bike upside down on its handlebars, I proceeded to flip the bike over. In doing so, I pulled something in my back. So, not even a scratch from falling off my bike, but I now have a screwed up back from trying to fix the bike!

Kind of like the time I went and did the CN Tower climb with some friends. Excited about my results, I decided to jog back to my (then) place at Harbour Square. I turned the corner too fast on a patch of mud and was sent sprawling to the ground. It wasn't until I got home and washed off the mud did I see the huge chunk of skin that was missing from leg. Again, not another battle scar worth bragging about.

Or that year in high school, after an injury free season of full contact football, I get put in the hospital after taking a badminton shuttlecock in the eye (during intramurals, of all times).

VIDEO BLOGS ON HOLD - I'M WITH KIVA!

2006-10-07T11:34:00.000-04:00

I am going to put making video blogs on a hiatus for now. I've gotten involved with something that could use the 2 hours that I normally set aside for making a video.

It's been a lingering desire of mine to get involved with microfinance. My recent transfer to my company's finance department couldn't have been more timely, although corporate finance (at EPCOR) is slightly different from the idea of eradicating poverty through microloans. However, the ideas of valuation, risk management and capital costs are part of the same language that is found in both. I stumbled across an organization called Kiva (Swahili for "agreement" or "unity") who facilitate microloans to entrepreneurs in developing countries. On their site, you choose a business initiative that interests you, find out what their loan is going to be used for and then make a loan. The loan (most people loan out $25 at a time) is done securely through Pay Pal. The loan is for a set period of time at which point the money is returned to your Pay Pal account for which you can then withdraw or reloan to another intiative. There is no interest earned on this loan, but then, most who engage in this initiative are probably more concerned about the social returns. Well, they were looking for volunteers and I contacted them. I received a response right away asking if I had time to help with some of their marketing initiatives (weird how another part of my work history now comes back into relevance). Basically, I "crawl" through the blogosphere, looking for posts on Kiva and thanking the writers. I then ask if they would consider placing a permanent link or banner on their site (there's no cost to this, just pasting some code into the blog). What this does is extend the shelf life of Kiva's message as readers return to their site. It's about 10 hours a week but I'm loving it: I get to read about other people's involvement in microfinance and I get to stay up to date with how microfinance is developing in the world! Of course, I would't be adding much credibility to my comments if I didn't put a Kiva.org banner on my own blog!

Standing at a bus stop, a teenaged kid is grinding his skateboard on the edge of an overturned newspaper box. What else is a kid with a skateboard, waiting for his bus, supposed to do? Back and forth, back and forth, riding up to the metal box, and then hopping onto it, sliding the entire length of the box with the skateboard's tail. Clearly, the lady sitting on a nearby bench was not impressed and I'm sure she was reinforcing the ongoing bun fight between the general public and skateboarders in her mind. The bus pulls up. The kid does one more grind. THEN HE PICKS UP THE NEWSPAPER BIN AND PUTS IT BACK IN PLACE ALONGSIDE THE OTHER NEWSPAPER BINS. He even takes an extra 5 sections to straighten it out!

WHAT THE MUCK?

2006-09-27T00:22:00.000-04:00

That was one of the team names at the Muddy Buddy race. Along with team "This Mucks" and the Streakers (2 girls who were wearing beige coloured running suits with maple leaves taped to 'strategic' parts of their bodies), me sis and I were reppin' the Chan Clan in this cool race. It was quite a gorgeous route, as most of it coursed through a forest. In fact, I'd say that this was a mini adventure race, as the running was mainly trail running and the biking was pretty technical. The obstacles.... well, you had your usual fare of tire hopping, balance beaming and mud pit slinking. But, the weirdest one was obstacle #4. Borrowing a chapter from Fear Factor, participants got to choose between eating 8 crackers or half a dog biscuit. And then you had to wash it down with a half cup of cola! I do believe my sis now has a better appreciation of what her yellow Lab snacks on!

Actually, the race was just a small part of the short visit to the 'other' side of the Rockies. I had a great time cruising around with D and got to meet some of her friends. We stayed at B & B's for the first night, where I was introduced to an electric motor assisted bike. At first, I was uninterested, maybe even critical, as I supposedly pride myself to being a purist rider. I once got passed on a steep hill by someone riding what looked like a hybrid bicycle-scooter and remember trying to convince myself that I enjoy the ripping pain in my legs. But this was different; it wain't yo typical granny cycle. B had retrofitted his mountain bike with an encased, brushless motor that fits on the hub. He persuaded me to try it and I was skeptical at first. The thing was heavy, weighing nearly 70 pounds. But the moment I tapped the throttle switch on the handle bar, I took off like a jack rabbit! I was still pedalling, but now I was going twice or three times as fast!! It's great because you don't need to run it all the time, just when you need a little boost, like to first get going or up a steep hill. B no longer requires a car, except for really long road trips. He's fashioned a chariot type cart that has a big plastic bin on it for his groceries. His commute to work is nearly 40km round trip and he can ride in any weather (Vancouver weather is pretty temperate all year round). He's actually tinkered with a number of these motors and has already retrofitted 3 other bikes (typical engineer!). His next project, a recumbent bicycle enclosed in a fibreglass body. This way, he is even more protected from the elements and has more cargo room! Actually, the whole concept of this Velomobile, as they're called, led to a very lengthy discussion about the definition of bicycles and the provincial Motor Vehicle Act!

Well, there's no corresponding video blog becuase I'm totally swamped with month-end and quarter-end at work, so I fear that by the time I actually get around to doing one, much of this information will be stale. I've also just got connected with a really cool organization and will be doing some volunteer work for them. More to come on that!

At the start line; there's my sis taking the first leg of the bike ride.

About a minute later, the runners were started. I'm there somewhere, I swear!

How the race got its name! The final obstacle was crawling through this mud pool. Yummy! That's not me (I guess I didn't get muddy enough to warrant the photographer wasting digital space on his camera!), but it absolutely captures the spirit of this race.

I didn't really get that muddy; still it was a lot of fun (and a lot of fun trying to get it out of my shoes!)

Yeah, the Chan Clan!

Taking a stroll along English Bay Park after some good Thai food at The Banana Leaf.

A short visit to the Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden in downtown Vancouver after post race dim sum in Chinatown.

A nice meal of oysters, West Coast seafood and Quail's Gate Chardonnay at Cafe Brio. Wine selection courtesy of one Dr. Gedalof from Toronto via my sis' Crackberry!

THE PEN IS MIGHTER THAN ADMIN PRIVILEGES WHEN SOAKED IN MUD FROM SCHENECTADY

2006-09-22T19:33:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

A little boy is walking out with his mom after an hour of swimming.
"What's in there?"
"Oh, that's the gym. That's where the big boys and girls play basketball and run around."
"But I don't see him!"
"Who don't you see?"
"Jim, I don't see Jim!"

The English language; often stifling, yet it can be so innocent when wielded by the right person.

Well, this is the third time that it's happened, so I think I've stumbled on how to get full computer administrative rights at work! Especially in larger organizations, restrictions on what you can install on your computer is meant to safeguard against nasty viruses and things that might cause the worker to be counterproductive. So, once again, I put in a request to have my PDA connected to my computer, so I can synchronize my schedules, an innocent enough request aimed at improving productivity I guess. What always happens is that IT sends someone to install the right drivers. For some weird reason, the PDA's driver never agrees with the operating system. So, after spending most of the day trying to connect the two, inevitably, the IT person gives up in frustration, and grants me full computer administrative privileges, just to make it work!

I'll be off to Van-town shortly for the Muddy Buddy Race. Originally, I was going to throw my bike on top of the car and make the drive out. Last week, my partner emailed me and said that due to some flight complications, she couldn't make it. I was going to just forfeit the race. But then I talked to my sister who is out that way right now and she agreed to race with me! It's a short trip, but it'll be great hanging out with her.

And speaking of traveling, I'll be flying to Schenectady at the end of October and to Toronto during the second week of November for some courses. Already liking the perks of this new position!

ALL IN CONVERSATION

2006-09-15T23:06:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

There are some things that you probably shouldn't say to your boss. He is in the process of moving from Edmonton to Calgary and is expecting most of his possessions to arrive this week, including his prized Martin guitar. Another colleague of mine also plays guitar and so the two of them were engaged in an enthusiastic conversation about musicality and influences. Me, not wanting to feel left out, waited for the right moment to pipe in, anxious to showcase what little knowledge I have left over from the music store days. Unfortunately, I learned a lesson in timing and delivery. Me: "So, manager, have you ever tried a Taylor before?" Timing and delivery is not only WHEN you say something (the 2 second pause that I waited probably didn't help), but context is also important. Because my manager has never heard of the Taylor brand of guitars before, AND because my manager prefers wearing tattered golf shirts to work, this is what he heard: "…have you ever tried a tailor before?" And so, a very awkward moment of silence ensued, for what seemed like an eternity, as he looked down at his fashion choices. Until my colleague, who is familiar with the brand, rescued me: "Oh, you mean Taylor guitars. Yeah, they're awesome!" Thankfully, my manager is a pretty easy going guy and we all had a big chuckle over it.

I found that by the time 4:00 p.m. rolled around, I was pretty exhausted, after spending most of the day pouring through spreadsheets. At that point, I was having an intense debate with myself about whether or not to go to the Seed that night. I just wanted to lay my head down and close my eyes. I toughed it out until 6:30 p.m. when I headed over, thinking that maybe having something to eat might help my state of mind. But, when I got there, we had a meeting because they were rolling out a new program. So, no food. Well, I was assigned to the task of serving and thought this would be a good way of just getting through the night, as carrying food to our guests on trays is a pretty mindless task. Because of the new program, there weren't many guests, so it was soon clear that there were too many servers. Instead of just standing and waiting with a full tray of food, I handed the rest of my plates to a fellow server and decided to walk around. I sat down beside one of the guests, an elderly gentleman with a slightly crooked nose and about 2 days' worth of beard growth. He looked at me with hazy eyes as I asked him "How are you?". He replied "How are you?" I said "I'm fine". He said "I'm fine." Mmmmm. "How did you like tonight's dinner?" "How did you like tonight's dinner?" What?! But before I let my imagination of how a conversation with a man who repeated everything I said get the better of me, we actually started talking. We talked about the recent cold weather that has swept into Calgary and he asked me if I had enough blankets. Huh? I told him I had one and he was surprised. He said he had 3 and offered me one! I politely declined and told him that my blanket was actually a cover, and it was pretty thick. But thanks! I walked around a bit some more and talked to another guest. He was eating by himself, working on his third helping of delicious macaroni. I asked him how his week was and he said, with a very quiet voice, that it was lonely. He had just lost his wife and is reluctant in calling his family, because they always think he's calling from a bar, which leads to some fundamental right wing scorning. We had a pretty decent coversation. At the end of the night, despite staying for more than an hour than I told myself I would, I was thoroughly refreshed. Any hints of previous fatigue were gone and I was pretty pumped. It's amazing how good conversation really helps to lift the spirit. That's the cool thing about the Seed; often, one is tempted to go there with the thought of "How can I help you?" Yet, I've discovered it is usually the other way around. My private prayer each time I go is to meet Jesus there. And every time, He has shown up, each time in a different guest.

LABOUR (OF A DIFFERENT TYPE) DAY

2006-09-09T15:00:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

THINGS I LEARNED FROM MY RECENT CAMPING TRIP TO RIBBON LAKE IN KANANASKIS COUNTRY:
- not to be surprised when, even on a hike rated as easy, that a nearly insurmountable obstacle will stop you from your final destination. Say, for example, the need to scale a 50 foot vertical cliff face with an attached chain as the only climbing gear available to help haul you and your pack up.
- that Oakley makes incredible sunglasses, as I dropped mine from said cliff at about 15 feet up, with only a small ding on the left lens to show for it
- if you have the good fortune to go camping with a couple of rugby players, packing like a weight Nazi is not as crucial for these beasts of burden; as such, you can bring in fresh corn-on-the-cob, whole peppers, fruit, an entire block of garlic butter and a pepper mill!
- incredibly, there are fish that live in Ribbon Lake, by all accounts a glacial lake; understandably, they don't grow to be very big, but if you happen to catch one, and are friends of the mentioned rugby mules, it makes for one heck of a campfire dinner! (although I won't complain about my delicious freeze dried gourmet fare)
- that campfires are a lot of fun! I haven't sat around one probably since high school days...
- one very dirty joke involving deers, mud and Italy!
- that "suggested" trails on a Gem-Trek map mean there is NO trail and you better have a compass with you
- the top of a mountain range is all loose shale and it's very easy to start rock avalanches just by walking on it
- and if you happen to slip and become a Tim-valanche, the slide can be controlled (poor hiking boots), allowing for a pretty fun slide all the way down to the valley
- that my UV AquaStar water filter absolutely rocks! I even completed an entire Sudoku puzzle in my tent by the comforting blue glow of it's lantern
- THAT I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT I CAN DECIDE AT THE VERY LAST MINUTE TO THROW MY GEAR IN THE CAR, DRIVE FOR LESS THAN AN HOUR, AND BE CAMPING LIKE THIS!!!!!

T DOT TIME

2006-08-24T20:11:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

It was my intention to keep my recent visit to Toronto low key, however, when I list everything I did, it seems like it was a pretty busy 2 weeks. As expected, there was lots of eating involved, particularly of things I've been craving for. More importantly, I spent a lot time with my family. So, I return to Calgary recharged and refreshed.

The Montreal Smoked Meat on rye at Katz Deli complemented the good conversation I shared with J, before heading over to Yorkdale to look for Ecco's and pens. The recently converted Devon Sleigh, now the Casa Imperial Fine Chinese Cuisine, served as an interesting venue for C's full month celebration (who is actually 2 months now, but held off celebrating until both sets of grandparents were in town). Since old habits never die, Mom and Dad took me to Wolfdale, our favorite hangout for dim sum. A cloudless, sunny sky set the stage for a rare Saturday beach volleyball session down at Ashbridges Bay (partly to make way for the next day's special event). That helped to work up a humongous appetite for Congee Wong, noodle house fare that I have been desparately craving for. I really have missed having such large spreads of food, the constant chatter of conversation and the astonishment by all at how small the bill is. Then it was Texas Hold'em at K & C's., which eventually led to another interesting (and very entertaining) flavour of the game: Indian Poker. A dinner at Rex Saigon and I was off to visit S & I, wanting to learn more about their short term missions trip to Peru. Crazy guy; he was driving down to Pittsburg the following day to visit the Steeler's training camp. A couple days later, he sends me an email with a newspaper clipping attached. He managed to get Hines Ward to sign his Hines Ward Jersey, after skillfully maneuvering through some interesting challenges. Talledega Night's at Fairview (actually, any movie at Rainbow would have sufficed for sentimental reasons). A quick visit to C & J's new digs, then a nice Honey Brown in the patio at St. Louis' and then off to a gratuitous sushi feast at Sushi Bong with D and C. A monster concert (no, seriously, that's what they call this kind of music) at Mel Lastman Square, featuring 10 pianos, 20 pianists and pretty cool renditions of some very recongizable pieces. I particularly liked their rendition of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody #2. A tame nightcap at Ten Ren ended my day in North York. Pho lunch at the "We-want-to-be-like-Spring-Rolls-so-we're-gonna-buy-all-of-the- going-out-of-business-Caban's-lighting-fixtures" Pho West 88. After being denied renting a kayak by the snobs at the Habourfront Canoe and Kayak Centre, took a ferry across to Toronto Island and rented a kayak there. Kayaked across the harbour to my old digs at Harbour Square and then back to the island. Dinner that night was at the Hot House Cafe. A visit with 6 month old S, then off to The Overdraught with the old EPCOR gang. Next, some delicious butter chicken and an interesting reading of Romans 5 at B & J's. Early the next morning, I dropped S & I at the airport (5:30 a.m. for their 8:30 a.m. flight; new airport security measures, ya kno'). I had a lot of pleasure shopping for my cousin who's turning 9 this week. I remember a time, when I was younger and looking for a baseball glove, my parents could only afford the vinyl ones as I drooled over the nicer leather ones. What goes around, I guess; I picked up a nice leather Wilson for P. I hung out with them before heading to the Pickle Barrel for dinner. It's really cool catching up with my cousins and I'm reminded of how much time has passed: one has graduated and is now working full time, another is starting high school, and my other cousin, the one who just received the glove, has one mean arm! He was whipping this tennis ball at me with laser precision and my hands started to sting after a few catches. He asked me to throw him a moon shot, as high as I could. My aim ain't so good. Needless to say, both of us ran pretty quick when the ball came down and set off the alarm of the neighbor's car. After dinner, it was off to (again, sentiment filled) Blackmore for some tennis under the lights. Man, I'm rusty, but I'm glad I lugged the extra piece of luggage carrying my racquets. Some feng-shui inspired Big 2 finished the night. The next meal was a dim sum one at Sapphire and then a visit to Silent Sports to drool over biking gear. Another dim sum lunch at New World (technically, they've changed their name to Emerald and have reinstated the push carts) with C & T, and then back to Ashbridges Bay for another afternoon of beach volleyball. After a quick shower, dinner with the Queen's gang at Aji Sai. Yet another beautiful day was the setting for a quick hike through Sibbald Point Provincial Park, and then dinner at Lone Star with Dr. B. The final lunch was at Dangerous Dan's (yikes) with my cousin V. I wasn't planning on it, but I decided at the very last second to order the Colossal Colon Clogger Combo. My cousin was floored that I finished it, fairly effortlessly. I think I impressed him even more when I told him how I earned the nickname "48". One final meal with moms, some wontons with noodles, and I was dropped off at the airport, armed with some Chinese buns for the flight.

Roger's Cup final at Rexall Centre.
There is something about being in the presence of greatness that is inspiring. I don't know the man personally, but Roger Federer has earned a lot of my respect. Not only is this person dominating his trait, he has done a lot with the exposure that comes from being that position, namely starting the Roger Federer Foundation, which focuses on disadvantaged children through sports, with close attention to those in South Africa. After spending the night at K's, he and I made our way to the Rexall Centre on a glorious Sunday morning. After finding our seats, some 15 rows from the court, we began our day by watching the Bryan brothers win the doubles finals. A quick walk around the complex, taking in some free snacks at the Amex tent and an overpriced hotdog at the concession stand, and it was then time for the men's final. We were disappointed that Rafael Nadal (number 2 in the world) didn't make it to the finals but were pleased as pie that we were going to watch the number 1. Federer lost the first set quite easily, and we were a little worried that fatigue from the week long tournament may have set in. But, I think Federer knows how to put on a show, winning the next two sets and making the Roger's Cup, Roger's Cup once more. Thanks to K for such a memorable highlight of my vacation!

Lunch with grandmas.
At 82 and 79 respectively, both of my grandmothers have lived very fruitful lives. Both having made it through arranged marriages, both having lost their husbands to illnesses, both having raised 6 children each. It's amazing what independent lives they both now live. But the fact that one of my grandmas is a vegetarian and the other has an allergy to MSG made choosing a suitable eating place a challenge. So, McDonald's it was! The grandmother with the aversion to MSG really likes the McChicken there and I ordered a delicious grilled cheese sandwich for my other grandmother. I've noticed, for a while, that people that are further along in their years like to repeat themselves. Well, multiply this by 2 and the 3.5 hours I spent with the 2 of them over lunch just flew by! I was still replaying the different conversations through my head even after dropping them off to their respective homes, smiling to myself.

A Midsummer Night's Run.
Ok. I have to admit that I was pretty bummed by my results with the Calgary Marathon. As much as I tell myself that it's always more about the training for it, it's hard to get away from my (self) competitive nature and comparing the results to past runs and future expectations. So, when I found out that there was a race in Toronto when I was visiting, I was excited about this opportunity to somehow vindicate myself. The only problem is that I haven't trained since mid July, plus I was nursing some lovely blisters from my recent camping trip into the Rockies. So, I tried a long run in Mississauga on the third day of my visit. A 22k route I've done many times before while preparing for the Toronto Marathon. It went smoothly, and my legs weren't any worse for the wear, so I jumped online and registered for this 30k race which was supposed to happen 7 days later (meaning, though, I had to pay the full registration fee as all early bird discounts had already expired). Instantly, I was in training mode, which ended up being a blessing in disguise. It is way too easy to not think about what you eat when you're on vacation, but being in this mindset made sure I always kept hydrated and I stayed away from eating things I should not (I cannot describe the pain in my heart for having to deny myself a single bite of that amazing all-you-can-eat dessert spread at Hot House Cafe). I continued training as race day quickly approached, following a condensed schedule that saw me do one more long run and a couple of taper off runs. The forecast was for rain, and I was cool with that, since I believe that it was heat that did me in, in the last run. So, both A and I made our way down to the Beaches and picked up our timing chips. I downed a PowerBar and before I knew it, I was being corralled into the starting area with about 400 other runners. Because the run is based on Shakespeare's famous play, and the race organizers encouraged this to be a "fun" event, people were dressed in various theme costumes. Instead of the pace bunnies, they had race "fairies". There was a little confusion at the start because, instead of firing off a gun or sounding a blowhorn, they had a kid yell "go". But, soon enough, the mass of bodies started moving and I was soon crossing over the starting mat. The first part of the run was very nice, winding through the beaches area with the sun setting. It was flat and well lit and Lake Ontario gifted a nice breeze to the passing runners. The night was rain free, but humid. It wasn't even a 10k but I was already soaked from head to toe. In fact, my shorts were so heavy with sweat that they started falling down! My profuse sweating worried me as I wondered if dehydration would set it. So, I was very intentional about grabbing water at each aid station, either to pour on myself or supplement what I already had in my Fuel Belt. As we exited Ashbridges Bay and started our way towards the Leslie Spit, it was clear why the race organizers gave out glow sticks and flashing blinkers. The people that I went down with are kids at heart and begged for my glow sticks so they could play with them. I conceded, thinking that I probably didn't need them anyways. But, once we started running in the spit, which has absolutely no lighting at all, I wish I hadn't given them away. There were times when the only thing keeping me on the path was seeing the glow sticks of the runner in front of me. As well, there were times when we were running on the same path as opposing runners. Had it not been for the things that made them visible, I might have run right into them! The runners who had looped these glow sticks around ther ankles were orginally the source of my ridicule. Now they were the source of my respect as these glow sticks illumnated the path below their feet, a path which was, at times, uneven and pot-holey. Finally, we made it out of the spit. I was feeling pretty good and decided to kick it up a bit, leaning slightly forward and shortening my strides. I made it pass the single lane bridge and into Cherry Beach, a path that brought back memories because it was the last leg of the triathlon I was in last year. In my mind, the finish line would be there as I turned the corner on Villiers. Imagine my shock when I round the corner to see the finish line on the other side of the street, after another 800m loopback! What torture it is be so close, yet still have to mount another effort just to get there! Well, I mustered enough strength to give one final push and ended up crossing the finish line at 2:36. I had told my friends that I was expecting to finish between 2:45 and 3 hours. Sure enough, they weren't there when I crossed the finish line! So, I received my medal and walked over to the food tent and grabbed a bagel, a banana and 2 bottles of water. I then headed back to the finish line to see if I could cheer A (and the other runners) to the finish line. My friends showed up about 10 minutes later, and their look of surprise was priceless. They were taking their sweet time, each armed with a double double from Timmy's not paying much attention. After A crossed the finish line to some hearty cheering, we took a picture with Queen Titania and Puck. I actually don't envy their disposition, having to pose in a picture with all these sweaty people. We then made our way up to The Owl Of Minerva (what an interesting name for a 24 hour Korean diner) for some delicious pork bone soup. The perfect post race meal!

Nothing like running in the dark then, all of a sudden, a bright flash blinds you silly. Hence, the stunned look.

At the finish line. Where is my cheering section, I wonder.

A and I with Queen Titania and Puck.

@%#$!!!!

2006-08-09T15:32:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

There probably isn't a more common time for Calgarians to be cursing than when they open up their mailbox and find a letter from the Calgary Police Services. That's right, I got my very first speeding ticket in Calgary. I was doing 63 km/h in a 50 km/h zone. I don't know what it is about 50 km/h zones and me, but this is the only place that I ever get caught speeding. Sometimes I wish I was caught doing 250 km/h in a 120 km/h; at least that would sound more macho! But, alas, my car does not go that fast... And I was trying to remember what I was doing the day that this supposedly happened because I was in the middle of a 4 shift rotation. With the nice weather, I've been mainly riding by bike to work, so it's uncommon for me to drive. Then it dawned on me: we were relocated for one of my recent shifts to a remote location because they were doing power upgrades to the main building. Just my luck; the one, rare time I drive to work, I get caught speeding!

In about 4 hours, I will be hopping on a plane for Toronto. I'm quite excited about this trip because I will get to see family and friends whom I haven't seen in a while. One of the highlights of this trip is going to the finals of the Roger's Cup tennis tournament. I'm one that's hoping for a Federer vs. Nadal final!

ROCKY ADVENTURES; FAREWELL FRIEND

2006-08-05T15:08:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

My latest visitors from Toronto spent hardly any time in Calgary. For we went from the airport straight into the Rockies. The plan: camp at various parks and make our way towards Jasper, where one of my visitors would then catch a bus to Edmonton for a wedding. I was quite excited about this trip, my first time camping in the Rockies, so much of my free time in July was spent helping to plan the itinerary, booking the permits and visiting my good friends at Mountain Co-op.

Our first stop, a picnic lunch at Johnson Lake, feasting on Viet subs and fruit salad. We then took the scenic drive along the Bow Valley Parkway towards Lake Louise, our first overnight stop. After making camp, we headed to the infamous Chateau Lake Louise, to gawk at the over-gawked view from the hotel across the lake. This was our starting point. 7km later, we reached the tea house which looked back at the Chateau, now just a tiny doll house, far off in the distance. Along the way, we admired the various rock formations, the different flowers, an odd looking snowpile and the brave rock climbers. Not wanting to stop at the tea house, we continued on to the furthest point on this route, where one can basically reach out and touch the glacier. We sat beneath a rock face where glacial runoff was coming down like a gentle shower. Deceptively hidden beneath layers of loose rock laid a monster glacier, its only signs being the surface claw-like cracks formed when it moved. As we finished off our remaining Viet subs, a thunderous clap sounded next to us; we looked up in time to see a plume of snow coming down the rock face about 100 meters away - AN AVALANCHE!!! After hiking it back, we washed up and made ourselves as presentable as possible, for we had reservations at the Fairview Dining Room inside the Chateau. Not your usual campground fare, but a very enjoyable treat (thanks to B) at the end of an amazing hike!

The next morning, we broke camp early and headed over to Moraine Lake. The hue of blue of this lake is unreal, tempting you to dip yourself in this shallow body of water. Yet, this was all glacial water, so cold that there was no life in it. We found a big, flat rock nearby and set up our stove to have a lakeside breakfast. This was fun, despite spending a lot of our time chasing away 2 very chubby chipmunks who were interested in joining us for breakfast. We left just in time, as a number of tour buses started arriving. We traveled northward on the Icefields Parkway, escorted by the fascinating mountain peaks. About 2 hours later, we arrived at Wilcox Creek campground. This campground was slightly different and more minimal than Lake Louise. This site employed a self check in system and had very little in the way of comfort facilities. We made camp, then headed down to the trailhead of the Wilcox Creek Pass, our next hike. We learned that all hikes in the Rockies ALWAYS start with a huge uphill climb. After the brutal initial ascent, the view opened up to reveal snowcapped towering peaks. The silly tourists riding the ice buses part way up the icefields now looked like ants and we were just blown away by the view. We had meat sticks as a snack. The trail continued upwards for what seemed like forever until, finally, it leveled off and now we were in the pass itself, a wide pathway between two mountains. Odd looking snowpiles didn't surprise us anymore. In fact, there was one point, while seeking some refuge from the sun, we decided to rest on a glacier. I dug out a divot in one of these inclined ice walls, creating a make shift seat for me to sit on (I didn't care that my shorts were getting wet while I rested, in fact, it was very refreshing). So, there is some glacier in the Rockies that now has my bum print on it! At one point, B looked over to the left and noticed something moving. It was off in the distance and we all could see that it was a young deer or goat, maneuvering quite gracefully on steeply inclined rocky terrain. Then, it started making its way down, at a pretty quick clip. I had read somewhere that rams can be aggressive. So, I quickly whip out my bear spray, ready to click off the safety. Well, this beautiful creature could've cared less about us and crossed our path less than 20 feet away. As it galloped off to the other side of the mountain, I put away the spray, feeling a little sheepish. As we continued hiking, we started getting hungry and worn by the sun. There was no shelter anywhere. Then, as if an answer to some unspoken wish, we stumble upon this flowing creek, which sprung from beneath some rocks and disappeared back into the ground just ahead of us. It was a glacial runoff and because the water was moving at such a fast rate, it was perfect for drawing from; the cold water was so refreshing! There also happened to be a nice flat rock nearby, perfect for setting up the stove. We had an amazing freeze dried lunch by this creek. We made our way back to camp, looping back the same way we came and being treated to a mostly downhill descent for the remainder of this 15km trek. Dinner that night was a nice summer salad and curry beef over rice. And wine! We had good discussions as we waited for an "inky black" star studded night sky, hoping that we'd catch some northern lights. Alas, our heavy eyelids were not in agreement and the sky was still a little light when we called it quits.

After breakfast, we broke camp and made our way towards Jasper. The next stop would be the final excursion for B but was also one of the treats on our itinerary. The Miette Hot springs are nestled in the mountains, on top of a geothermal source. Because it's a little off the beaten path, it's not as frequented as much by tourists, unlike the other hot springs found in Banff. It was just what we needed, after two days of sweat and grime. We lazed in this warm pool, staring at the mountains that surrounded us on all four sides. After a nice shower, we headed into the town of Jasper for a quick lunch and then parted ways with B. C and I retraced our steps back towards Banff. We arrived at our next destination some 2 hours later: Mosquito Creek. Having already trekked over 30km in the past 2 days, our feet weren't exactly in the best shape to start another 15km route to get to our campsite at Upper Fish Lake, especially now that we are carrying more gear for this overnight trip. But, C and I are always up for the challenge, memories of our first trek into Frontenac together still pretty fresh in our minds. The initial part of the hike was amazing: a fast, rushing rapid showed us the way into the interior. What's amazing about hiking in the Rockies is the different terrain that one goes through. Thick Aspen forests during the initial ascent. Then, the trees thin out as you approach the tree line, opening up to subalpine meadows. The meadows we wandered across were stunning - as far as the eye could see purple and yellow meadow flowers. Apparently, bears love to hang out in these parts, feasting on this all-you-can-eat buffet. We never saw any. We then exited the meadows towards a large body of water, where we were greeted by a marmot, a creature that reminded me of a beaver, but slightly heftier. We continued climbing upwards until there was no vegetation left, heading for one of the highest points in the Rockies that is accessible by a hiking trail. When we got there, after scrambling on some pretty loose shale, we started a steep descent, dropping 100 meters in a literal instant. It was getting dark now, as the sun was hiding behind the tall mountains. Still, we thought there would be enough ambient light to get to the campsite. Of course, in my enthusiasm to get to camp quicker, I got us lost as the trail we were following suddenly ended at a creek. We wandered around a bit, walking through thick brush, trying to avoid gopher holes until we met up with the braided trail again. By this time, it was dark and we had to whip out our headlamps. Finally, we made it to camp in total darkness. After wandering around for a bit and determining that there were no tent pads, we decided to pitch the tent on a flat area of grass just beside a picnic table. This camp site had a really cool food storage system: a tall pole with a built in clip and pulley contraption! Foregoing dinner, we decided to just turn in. Before doing so, I had my second incident where I pulled out the bear spray. As we were walking towards the food pole, we saw these 2 shiny beads floating in midair, about 15 feet away. Although not quickly, it was approaching us. As we flooded the area with our headlamps, we see this deer just meandering through the campsite, looking for shrubs.

About an hour after we went to sleep, we hear this rustling outside the tent. In my sleepy daze, I think that it's the deer, grazing nearby. The sound gets closer, so C opens up the vestibule and sticks his head out for a look. He mentions something about chipmunks and goes back to sleep after putting our packs on top of the picnic table. Perhaps there were scraps of food near the table that attracted these (nocturnal, really?) critters. About 1/2 an hour later, the sound is back. This time, it's louder and sounds like gnawing right outside the tent! I pop open the vestibule, stick my head out and look right into the eyes of a porcupine! It was chewing on the backpacks. I was still half asleep, so I wasn't really sure why it was doing this. It took about 2 minutes before I realized that this creature might actually be doing damage to our gear! I found a pebble nearby (since my assaulting it with LED light and verbal shooing didn't seem to work) and 'skipped' it towards this creature (I didn't have the heart to hit it directly). That got it's attention. It quickly turned its back to me, quills fully erected into the air. I don't know why, but at that moment, my brain was cotton candy. I didn't remember if porcupines can launch their quills or if it was just a passive defensive mechanism. So, I quickly grabbed as much of the vestibule flap as I could and shielded my face! Well, nothing happened, except this creature sauntered off and since it wasn't able to give me the finger, it displayed to me the only other part of its body to tell me off. After it was gone, I quickly hopped out of the tent and inspected the damage. It had chewed on C's backpack straps. Thankfully, the main strap was not chewed entirely through, but the damage was pretty extensive. I also saw that it had chewed on the foam hand grips on C's trekking poles. I looked at my own pack and nothing. We determined, in a discussion later that day, that the salt in C's sweat was more appetizing to that porc! I went back to the food pole with our packs and hung them up with our food bag. I was awake now and it was about 4:30. The sky was still inky black, but, just over one of the nearby mountains, there was a hint of the sun coming up. So, I sat on the picnic table, armed with a trekking pole, guarding our tent, half expecting the porc to come back with reinforcements. It didn't, so I was able to admire the view. But, with the sun rising, the mosquitoes started coming out. So, I crawled back to sleep, praying that the porc would not come back and start eating our tent.

I'm sad to say that horseflies ended our trip short. We had an amazing hike back, especially when we reached the "notch" with its breath-taking view of the whole area. But the flies just kept with us the entire time. Deet doesn't work on them and their bites really have bite. Both C and I were sunburned from the previous days, our feet were sore and blistered, and I was breaking out in a heat rash. So, we decided to just hike to the car and head back to Calgary. Along the way, we "snuck" into the Lake Louise campgrounds to use the shower facilities. Once back in Cow-town, I learned that one of the best cures for what the Chinese call "yeet hay" (when the body has been in contact with extreme heat, such as long term exposure to the sun or when eating deep fried food) is beer! So, over a delicious sushi meal on 4th St., C and I Kampai'd with sake and remedied ourselves with Sapporo! No doubt, our bodies thanked us for being able to sleep on soft beds that night. We went to church the following morning, and after a hearty dim sum lunch, I dropped C off at the airport.

I never did get a chance to use my new water filtration system. It's pretty cool: it uses UV light to kill waterbourne nasties like protozoa, bacteria and viruses. It's even got a built in LED lantern! But what really impresses me is the company that designed it, Meridian Designs. They're into all sorts of things, ranging from avionics to medical centrifuges to kitchen composters. Their stuff is well built and practical. For example, the bottle came in a simple cardboard shipping box and the instructions are printed right on the bottle, so there's no need for a wasteful printed manual. More importantly, they're working on a low cost solar powered version that can be used in developing countries where clean water problems kill over 2 million people a year.

So, after more than 3 years as a faithful companion, I received a call last week from a Mastercard CSR. She told me that an unusual transaction took place, where someone charged $400 on my credit card in a Walmart in Florida. She asked me to destroy this one right away, as they were going to send me a new one. Good bye, dear friend.

REMEMBERING THE 9TH

2006-07-24T12:22:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

Sunday July 9, 2006, was a very memorable day for me. It also happened to be the day of the 2006 Calgary Marathon. There are many things that would've made this day very memorable. I guess I could remember the fact that this race coincides with the Calgary Stampede, and that the race was started by the marshall firing a long barreled shotgun into the air! I guess I could remember being welcomed into Stampede Park by the RCMP marching band. I guess I could remember the jaunt through Calgary Zoo, which up to that point, I have never been in. I guess I could remember the nice run along Memorial Drive, where we bid farewell to the Half Marathoners who turned around. I guess I could remember how excited I was when, reaching the half way point of the race, I looked down at my watch and saw 1:50. I guess I could remember the turn around point at Bowness Park and when things started to fall apart for me. I guess I could remember all the volunteers at the aid stations, especially the ones with the sponges, and the realization that one can never be over hydrated during a marathon in the middle of July (props also to the residents along the route who sprayed me with their Supersoakers or garden hoses). I guess I could remember finishing the race in 4:22, and feeling a little disappointed that I didn't make my personal goal, which was under 4 hours.

But what made this day memorable was what happened AFTER the race. For, G&J, along with J&P&E were at the finishing line, cheering me home! Words cannot describe the phenomenon when one can easily forget the pain of the last 4 hours, when getting showered by encouragement by familiar ones. There is a concept in the business world called leveraging. Good leveraging is when small amounts of inputs create a significant, greater outcome. When it comes to friendship and relationships, leveraging good leverage can happen. Often times, we forget that it doesn't take a whole lot of time or effort to create an effect that it eternally lasting. Whether it's a quick email of encouragement or just standing at the finish line to welcome the runner back. Of course, the amazing Dim Sum lunch we had afterwards was fabulous too! But, through this, I'm reminded that I'm not running the race alone. That those around me, my family, friends and community, run this race with me.

So, what stands out at the end of the day are not the blisters, which will eventually heal, nor the blackened toenails, which will eventually grow back, or even the excruciating pain brought on by 4 hours of physial exertion. These memories will fade with time. But what is more lasting is the blessing of family, friends and community.

Congratulations to G&J who welcomed Megan Midori into the world on Friday July 21!

The various looks of 42k. Yeah, it got progressively hotter.

Happy Birthday Megan!

CANADA'S BIG DAY!

2006-07-11T16:42:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

Well, another Canada Day has come and passed. This one was spent attending a baby shower hosted by my friends G&J, who are expecting some time in the next 3 weeks. We had some awesome food and I had the chance to meet their family and friends. From there, I returned home to prepare my rendition of the Canada Day BBQ that normally happens in Ottawa at S&N's. Call it the satellite location! Since there were only 3 people attending the Western BBQ, I decided to "enrich" the offering: cheese and wine to start off, a spinach/strawberry salad next, fall-off-the-bone Hoi Sin ribs, Montreal-spice rubbed AAA top sirloins, and salmon/roasted pepper skewers served with fried rice for the main and a refreshing watermelon/honeydew fruit salad for dessert. Since the weather was cooperating, we consumed this spread on my patio, making good use of my transformer picnic table! Once we were done, we headed over to Stampede Park for some fireworks. I had heard earlier in the day that the show had originally been cancelled (because the organizers didn't have the right permits) and that this relocated show was only going to be 10 minutes long. So, I didn't have much in ways of expectations, but I was pleasantly surprised after the near 1/2 hour show! Sitting in the grandstand at Stampede Park meant that we were less than 200 feet away from the field where the pyrogear was being set off. So, it really felt like the fireworks were cascading down right at us! It was a great show.

Actually, the Canada Day celebration started much earlier in the day, when I received the following message at 12:00 a.m. sharp! That means those crazy kids out east stayed up til 2:00 a.m. to get this out!!

Special Message

LIME GREEN HAT

2006-07-10T18:54:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

I drove my car slowly through the intersection, trying to avoid the debris that was strewn all over the road. A police officer had just arrived and was making her way to the other car, which managed to become stranded on the sidewalk, facing the wrong way. A black Cavalier sat just across the intersection, its front end heavily damaged. A lady was sitting in the passenger seat of the first vehicle, a maroon coloured Sunfire, and was being consoled by a younger lady. The Sunfire also sustained heavy damage to its front end. I speculate that one car was making a turn, while the other coming head on, did not. What impressed upon me was that both front air bags in both vehicles had deployed, its limp forms now draped out like neglected balloons. Thankfully, there didn't appear to be any injuries. A little boy wearing a lime green hat was walking on the sidewalk with an older man, someone who could be his grandfather. Perhaps they were making their way to the Mac's across the street, in search of a refreshing Frostee to beat back the scorching day. Perhaps they were heading to the park just down the road past the church. Whatever the destination, the boy was excited. But this excitement turned to wonder and then apprehension as they reached this particular intersection. It may be an intersection that this boy with the lime green hat has crossed many times before, but today was different. And perhaps this little boy, like most little boys, has a set of miniature cars at home and has had many hours of glee driving them on the home's well worn carpet. And, as most young boys with little cars do, he immerses himself in a world where he drives the different cars to their unknown destinations. The cars arrive separately or as a caravan. It doesn't matter, because each iteration is different, a different destination, a different purpose. Perhaps one time, the little boy decides that it is more exciting for the cars to crash into each other; why does scaled down carnage bring such joy to little boys? But today, it's different. What he sees are not his toy miniatures crashing into each other. He has seen what happens when big cars crash; they don't just bounce off each other. Big cars break into lots of pieces when they crash. And people get hurt. So, the little boy in the lime green hat, grasps his grandfather's hand just a little bit tighter as he takes one more glance at the lady being consoled by another lady, as the police officer approaches. And in a world where tragedy can only be easily erased through the eyes of child, he sets his sights back on where he was going.

ON MY MIND

2006-07-07T22:06:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

Anxiety...
Preparation...
Pace...
Community...
Pain...
Uncertainty...
FUN!!!
Desire...
Regret...
The wall...
Perseverance...
More...
Accomplishment...

Ready for...The Calgary Marathon...July 9, 2006 0700

LEAVING YOUR MARK

2006-06-29T23:50:00.000-04:00

Video version of this blog

It seems to be a common human trait, posessing the desire to leave some sort of impression, a legacy expressing who you are, in the present time or even at a time when you are no longer around. Like the time, as a young boy, I inscribed my name into the freshly poured concrete in front of my house. Or another time, when no one was looking, I spray painted my initials onto one of the walls inside the (former) warehouse at Mississauga Chinese Baptist Church. (yikes, vandalizing a church?!?!) Many of my visitors to Camp Timmys have noticed some large, white numbers etched onto the side of a hill just south of where I live.

How big are the numbers? The screen capture on the right is a Google Maps shot from outer space!

This is Battalion Park, created by Canadian soldiers during WWI. While these soldiers where waiting for their next mission, they were stationed here for training. During their days off (read "for fun"), the soldiers would carry sizeable white stones up the hill and form what would be the numbers corresponding to their battalion. So, troups 113, 51, 151, and 137 have permanently left their marks on Signal Hill. In total, over 16,000 stones were carried up to accomplish this!

While patiently standing in line for a much needed double double fix, I notice a family who has just picked up their order and is about to exit the coffee shop. They stop at the door and notice a colourful strip posted just beside it, bearing the markings that indicated specific height levels. The son is the first one to stand with his back against this strip while the father notes how tall he is. Then the father takes his turn. The mother, who was carrying all the food, whips out her camera and snaps a few pics. They were having a blast! I didn't have the heart to tell them that they already had their pictures taken by the security camera and that the height strip is meant to help police catch would be/successful robbers by providing an accurate height description!

And it's not just humans who like to leave marks. I just had one of the most bloody beach volleyball experiences. And it wasn't from all the diving that I normally do, although there was an incident where my shin collided with my partners big toe, leaving a healthy gash. I'm talking about mosquitos. I have never experienced being assaulted by some many aggressive mosquitos! THEY JUST KEPT COMING!! It got to the point where I gave up trying to swat them because I had to focus on the game. I think, at one point, my entire left arm felt like it was being stung all at once. Once the last game was done, I sprinted to the car and dove in, not even bothering with towelling down and not really caring that I was dumping all this sand inside. Only after I had rolled up the windows and closed the sunroof did I even dare to look down at the carnage. Blood smears everywhere, on all my limbs from the very few times I successfully swatted one of these blood thieves. It really looked like I was in a fight or something. The sight after showering off all the sand and blood wasn't any better. Bumps of varying sizes landscaped all my exposed skin area, including my (hair deficient) head because these buggers managed to get underneath my cap!

Well, here's a kid who will definitely leave his mark!

FANTASTIC REALITY: GUNS, SOCKS AND HYGENISTS!

2006-06-23T17:00:00.000-04:00

After carefully placing my coffee on the raised table near the window, I flip open my laptop . As I usually do when not thinking hard about anything, I'm running a scenario through my head. I was thinking about how it would be neat if the guy sitting at a nearby table decided to strike up a conversation with me, having seen me open my laptop. I envisioned him asking me if I was using the laptop to connect to the Internet. I would tell him that, unfortunately, this coffee shop doesn't have a wifi connection. He would then reveal himself to me as the owner of this Second Cup, one of those savvy entrepreneurs who likes to connect with his customers (the type of entrepreneur I imagine myself being), conducting some covert customer surveying to help improve his business. He would then exclaim: "Surprise! I just installed a wireless router!" As I was just concluding that heart warming thought, a message pops up on my laptop, proclaiming that there was an unsecured wifi connection nearby. I snap back to reality from my thoughts to confirm that this message was real. Sure enough, this Second Cup now has wifi. How weird is that?!?!? Anyways, my fantasy of this business owner implementing some altruistic gesture remained just that, a fantasy. For it will cost me $6 an hour to use their Internet here. Grrrr!

Only in Cow-town, a recent announcement at a church I attended: "We want to thank everyone for coming out to the gun range with us yesterday. The highlight of the night was when we got to fire off a 357 Magnum hand cannon!"

As a runner, I go through socks. Now matter how gently I wash them and even if I switch them from foot to foot, they inevitable get "hole-y". I especially like the technical socks which seem to cause less blisters and last a bit longer than your typical cotton socks (though costing at least double). I'm so delighted when J&P return from a recent trip to Portland and gift me 3 pairs of Airmax socks from their visit to Nike Town. Yah!

When going to certain places to conduct business, one expects to see a certain age range in the people providing the service. You would not be surprised to see a high school aged worker if you, say, went to a fast food restaurant. Perhaps a college aged barista at the local coffee shop. As is usual before any first appointment at a dental office, I had to fill out an information and consent form, which was handed to me by college-aged-looking receptionist. Nothing unusual about that. The door opens as they are ready to receive me and I am greeted by this girl (and I use this term in a very respectably accurate manner) who looks like she could be the daughter of said receptionist. Except, she's wearing scrubs and a surgical mask hangs around her neck. She is my dental hygenist! It's not even how young she looked, but by the way she asked me how I was doing, I was ready to tell her to stop playing hooky and go back to school right that instance! All throughout my session, I was just lost in the irony that, as my dental hygenist was cleaning my teeth, she was chewing gum the whole time! Mind you, she did a really good job. She took her time, making sure that she got to all the hard to reach places. Still, as she was working, I couldn't get the image out of my head of someone sitting in a classroom carefully colouring in a map of Canada.

My legs hate me. The weather in Calgary changes every 10 minutes and weather forecasts are useless. So, whenever a window of "non-rain" opens up, you have to take advantage of it. So, after finishing a long run yesterday, I noticed the nice weather this morning and decided that this would be the perfect time to try a long ride. So, I hop on my bike and ride out to Bragg Creek, some 34km away. By the time I finished this near 70km loop, my legs are spazzing out. I am beyond hobbling, and I drag my legs along like 2 useless stumps. Still, it was worth it: while riding to Bragg Creek, the mountains loom towards you, getting larger and larger with each pedal stroke. You need to focus, though, because you are riding on the shoulder as trucks and cars are whizzing by at 100km/h. Then, you need to dodge the curious pocket gophers who like to crawl up to the shoulders, pretending to be hitchhikers, then dart away at the last second!

Video version of this blog

It looks like I've been blogging for some time now. Like anything else, something that starts to become a routine makes the mind lazy. So, in order to keep my creative juices fresh, I've taken on the challenge of creating a matching video log to each blog. This will allow me to express myself in ways that written text could not allow. It will also have me practice "public speaking", although in this case, my audience is a camera.

MATT

2006-06-22T19:44:00.001-04:00

A great video. An even better story: www.wherethehellismatt.com

EYE HEART TENNIS!

2006-06-16T23:35:00.000-04:00

1 week.

That was the last time I took off my contact lenses. What!?!? Am I wishing for blindness? When I was younger, I had a problem with contacts: I wore them for longer than I should have. The eye, craving for more oxygen would deploy blood vessels to the surface. When enough oxygen was received, the vessels would retract. However, in doing so, my vessels became entangled. That really scared me and I was much more careful about my eyes from that point on. So, when visiting with an optometrist recently, he tells me about how contact lens technology has vastly improved in the past few years. To the point where people can now wear contacts that are so permeable that you can sleep in them. In fact, you can leave them in your eyes for an entire month before replacing them. So, every time I've woken up in this past week, I've had to take a second as I get over the shock of not having blurry vision as I reach for my glasses! Actually, my glasses have sat in their case for all this time. Sure, my eyes are a bit dry when I wake up, but nothing a drop of Refresh Tears in both eyes can't fix! And no, the lens has never escaped to the back of the eyeball!

So close!

Ever since moving to Calgary, my Babolat racquet and my Prince shoes have sat in my tennis bag. Not meaning to neglect them, I've been trying to get out in this warmer weather to play. Alas, this is not an activity that you can do very long by yourself. Most people I ask here are not into tennis. Until one day when I had a conversation with one of my colleagues. He seemed really excited about playing, so we were just about to set up a time to play. That is until I find out after that weekend, he broke the tibia and fibula in his right leg after almost successfully executing a trick on his motorcross bike. Almost. So, he's off work for a couple of weeks and won't be playing tennis anytime soon. :(

Just booked my tickets with Westjet. So, I will be visiting Toronto from August 9 to August 22. Maybe I can fit in some tennis then!

GENUINE COMMUNITY

2006-06-14T00:52:00.000-04:00

To the zoo and back.
Up John Hextall Bridge, to 85th and underneath the tracks.
Up and down the hill.
Up and down the hill.
Flies and mosquitoes as my snack.

It's June, and it looks like it's snowing,
Poplar trees sneeze out cotton snowflakes when the wind starts blowing,
Up the nose, in the mouth.
Up the nose, in the mouth.
Must stop running, because now I'm choking.

This sums up most of my runs in the past couple of weeks as the marathon quickly approaches, whether it's a short run, hill repeats, Fartleks (no farting involved) or long runs. The geese have stopped hissing, as I notice the young'uns are nowhere to be seen, probably off learning how to fly.

I was out for my long run this weekend, a 35 km route that was sure to take me to "the wall". It was a quiet morning and I was going at a decent clip, just enjoying the solitude. There are a few segments of the Bow River Pathway that split into 2 sections. A narrower path that has a pictorial sign indicating no bikes or blades allowed. Then there is a wider path with a yellow dividing line, headed by a pictorial sign showing a person in forward motion (one foot in front of the other, arms swinging) with a big, red circle/slash around it. I interpret this as "no pedestrians" on this wider path. What a brilliant idea! Except, on this particular morning, I was informed that my understanding of this system was incorrect!

I have this habit (though probably a detriment to a better finishing time) where I wave to all runners that run towards me. It's meant to be a gesture of encouragement and camaraderie. As I was running on the "no pedestrian" side, there was another runner coming towards me on the "no bikes, no blades" side. I waved to him just as he shot out "you're on the wrong side!" to me. That took me by surprise because 1. people don't usually shout a response back to my greeting (usually it's just a smile or a return wave) 2. his tone was very terse. And then I went from being shocked to being angry. I would expect something like this if I was blocking a large portion of the wider pathway, posing a hazard to passing cyclists and bladers. Or if I was distracted from my running by talking on a cell phone (which I have seen), thus creating a danger to those near to me. I tried to understand the motivation of what seemed to me an increasingly silly remark.

Strange, the things that people will rise up to. Whether it's which way the toilet paper should sit on a roll, a silly movie based on a silly book, or "which side of the pathway you're running on". Is it that people need a cause in order to feel like they're contributing to the community? Or do people actually feel more "in community" when they are able to exclude others. I'd like to think that the real essence of community is more about making oneself vulnerable to those around you, so that others can adopt your joys and pains. If this is a valid definition, instead of relying solely on membership, then how many of us are actually in community? What a lonely world we live in... These ideas were galvanized in a recent message by Jeremy Duncan at Westside King's Church: Christ-like Community

I am embarrassed to admit that this had me steamed for most of this long run. Ironically, the mulling of this incident may have been a blessing in disguise. For it made the time pass rather quickly and I never did encounter "the wall" after 35km and finished in good time. So, I think I've discovered something! I need someone to get me worked up at the starting line!

IT'S SAND IN MY CRACKS SEASON AGAIN!

2006-06-03T02:40:00.000-04:00

One thing I knew I would miss from T.O. would be my weekly ritual of burying myself in sand, more often than not as a result of chasing a Wilson beach volleyball. Well, to console myself, I searched the internet to see if there was much beach v-ball action in Calgary. There's only 2 organized leagues and not that many venues to play at. I didn't really have much expectation because this city does not sit close to a lake. Hence no beaches. I stumbled across the Calgary Beach Volleyball Association, a non-profit league that plays out in SE. They host league games throughout the week, but Friday is reserved for "drop in". Well, I decided to drop in and check it out. I was a little reluctant at first because I didn't know anyone and most courts were already filled with people who seemed to know each other or were already playing a game. There was a couple that was just hitting around on an empty court and I asked if I could join. Before I knew it, others joined and, by the time I left, 2.5 hours and 4 games had passed. As I was standing in the parking lot, toweling off as much sand as I could, a strong sense of deja vu hit me. Except, in this instance, I knew that these feelings HAD happened before. The individual grains of sand grinding against my arms as I brush them off. The smell of sunscreen still lingering even after a couple of hours since its application. The sweaty top that acted as a magnet for sand. The dry gritty feeling between my toes as I walked from the courts in my sandals. SAND IN EVERY CONCEIVABLE PART OF MY BODY! It was amazing!

Although the venue is nowhere near a body of water (it's a field that has been designed specifically for beach volleyball, housing 10 courts - on one side sits a church, on the other side a school field), it's an amazing place. The wooden poles that support the net are straight and have nice metal brackets containing hooks at different heights, allowing the net to be adjusted depending on what competitive level is being played. Gone are the days when a net had to be secured by ratchet tie downs and having to use water coolers as stepping stools to reach the hooks: each pole has its own crank and a wooden block nailed to the pole that serves as a step! In fact, gone are the days where you even need to bring your own gear: at the entrance to the courts sits a shed where they keep the court kits, each one housed in a large canvas bag. Each bag contains a thick-taped heavy duty net, line tape, bungee cords and a Wilson AVP ball! As I was laying out the line (the net took less than 2 minutes to put up and can easily be done by one person), I noticed that there were ropes anchored to the ground at set spots near the boundaries. This is where you secure the bungee cord, which is connected to one of the 4 corners of the line tape. No hammering required, no having to shift the court because one side is longer than the other! And the best kicker: each pole had a speaker secured to it, so we enjoyed great music all evening as we played. It was awesome! Did I mention that drop in is free?

I was "high" as I was driving back when I realized what time it was. The car's clock said 9:05 (p.m.) But I was still wearing sunglasses. And it wasn't because of a fashion statement based loosely on a Corey Hart song from the 80's; the sun was still at a high enough angle that it was blinding my view of the road. In fact, it doesn't really get dark here until after 9:45 and we're not even in summer yet. JUST AWESOME!!

KAMPAI!

2006-05-31T00:34:00.000-04:00

Give a man a fish and he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish and he eats for life. Show a man how to make sushi, and he's eating in heaven! Tonight, for our latest company "event", we were graced by the expertise of Steve, one of the head sushi chefs at Sakana Grill. Sitting around a teppanyaki grill, 18 of my colleagues and I had our own bamboo mats, aprons and tons of ingredients. First, Steve distributed the sake, a warm rice wine. We then toasted ("Kampai!") together, the first of many to come in the night, and he proceeded to show us how to make a basic cucumber roll, a salmon roll, an outside California roll (outside, because the rice faces outwards, instead of the seaweed), and the Sakuna special house roll. Of course, we got to eat everything he made plus anything we made as well (and most of us washed it down with sake or plum wine). Wow, there was so much food! We were basically told to eat half of what we made and then transform the remaining half into a creative presentation that would be judged, the winner taking home a bottle of sake. Most people were beyond stuffed after eating half. Well, knowing that this meal was coming, and having a severe craving for sushi for a few weeks now, I was prepared to eat everything. Needless to say, I did not bring home the sake because I ate my presentation! They let us take the mats home, though. Now I just have to remember all the technique that we were shown...

YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW TO USE CLIPLESS PEDALS UNTIL YOU CAN USE THEM DURING CITY RIDING. Having gotten fairly comfortable with these new pedals, I decided to ride into town for our company event. I approached an intersection that is currently under construction, where the bike path has been "displaced": a barrier now blocks the original path and a new path has been created. So, I descend this new path towards the intersection. There's no much room from when the path ends and the road starts, so a rider has to break pretty hard to avoid throwing oneself into traffic. As I was watching the flurry of cars approach quickly, I had to also maneuver around loose rocks and construction debris. In that moment, I forget about my pedals. So, as I quickly stopped, I started toppling. Funny how time all of a sudden grinds to a halt when something terrible (well, in my case, embarrassing) is about to happen. It wasn't a hard fall, but I can recall every sliver of time as it occured. Of course, only AFTER my fall, was I unclipped from the pedals. And of course, the group of young high schoolers I passed at the top of the path saw the whole thing and were just howling.

With just 6 weeks left before the Calgary Marathon, I'm finding that most of my "spare" time (i.e. when I'm not in the office or hosting royalty) is spent on the Bow River Pathway. Since the marathon route will criss-cross this pathway, it makes for good training for the actual race. There's even a nice hill by where I usually start that has a 45 degree plus incline that goes for at least 200 metres (although my legs are usually burning by the time I do 100 up that slope!). WHAT IS UP WITH THE GEESE HERE? On a recent run, I approached one of these creatures. Or, should I say, one was coming at me! And it was hissing!! I seriously thought this thing was going to lunge at me and take a bite out of my leg. Then, it happened again just a few days later. I didn't notice it the first time, but nearby, was another goose and about 5 or 6 gosling. These gosling were just wandering around, bumping into each other and pecking at the ground. So, it appears that the aggressive stance by the attacking goose was a way of protecting its family. What an interesting display of familial care in the animal kingdom!

Speaking of familial care, I sometimes hear the funniest things on my run:

Grandmother: Ok, Charlie, you have to wear this helmet (click)
Charlie: Oww, oww, oww, oww
Mother: Mom, the helmet is pinching Charlie!!
Grandmother: Did his head get bigger?
Mother: No, just his hair.

A ROYAL VISIT TO CAMP TIMMY'S

2006-05-25T00:33:00.000-04:00

Day 1...
Dim sum lunch at Central Grand... the Royal Couple were so hungry that we wolfed down the meal in 20 minutes flat!

Walk through Princess Island Park, past the River Cafe, through Eau Claire and up the TD Square to visit Devonian Gardens.

Home cooked meal for the Iron Chef matriarch herself; a hallmark of greatness, in culinary terms, is acquiescing yourself to dish washing assistant while your son stumbles through the preparation of a full course meal!

Blade II. Actually, my dad fell asleep during the movie, but my mom, though easily frightened by gory scenes, kept strong til the end!

Mom and pops sitting in Devonian Gardens.

Day 2...
Morning service at the Calgary Chinese Alliance Church Chinese Service.

Lunch consists of Viet subs at Pacific Place.

Shopping/culinary workshop by mom at T&T. I now know the difference between "duong gwa" and "geet gwa".

Wisk the royal couple to Drumheller to see the badlands and hoodoos.

Dinner is all-you-can-eat snow crabs at Booker's Crabshack, celebrating my mom's birthday, generously sharing her birthday with another kinda famous queen.

Games 2 Oilers/Ducks with pops back at home.

The King and Queen at Horseshoe Canyon, me messing with their camera's panoramic feature.

Day 3...
Leave for Edmonton. The royal couple is supposed to keep the driver awake. But, alas, even their superpowers can't overcome the EXTREMELY boring drive from Calgary to Edmonton. They're out by the time we hit Gasoline Alley. The drive resorts to naming cows, wishing he could go over and tip one over....WAKE UP!!!

Lunch at Good Buddy's with the King's sister and husband. Man, I haven't had this kind of food in quite a while. I am nostalgic about Congee Wong.

Visit to cousin L and their beautiful poodles, Bruin and Franky. Or should I say, ACTING SARGENT cousin L! I part ways with the King and Queen, knowing that they are in good hands. I follow cousin L to Sears where we have one terrible experience with 2 of their managers. Then off to Spruce Grove.

Visit with cousin V and M, and their cute kids L and C. Play some Candyland, catch up and then the King and Queen arrive. We feast royally on some awesome steaks. Top it off with strawberry rhubarb pie a la mode.

Spend the night in Edmonton.

Family portrait in Spruce Grove. Gotta stop wearing technical shirts with 3M reflective logos when taking flash pictures!

Day 4...
I left their royal highnesses to sleep in while I join D for breakfast, who is making a homecoming herself. Amazing breakfast at Alberta Family Restaurant (what a quirky name for a business? well, there's no confusion about what this business does, where it's located and who it caters to...) Actually, the conversation was even more amazing. A stroll along Whyte Avenue (in its full, undefecated glory, prior to tonight's probable shenanigans) and a drive to D's old high school.

I remind myself that I REALLY, REALLY miss (and love) tickling the ivories.

Leave Edmonton for Calgary.

The Royal Couple zonked out again. This time, the driver stays awake listening to the new Starfield CD. AWESOME!!

Stop off at the Deerfoot Outlet Mall, only because I haven't been there yet. This mall that has, at most, 15 stores has 2 dollar stores!

Dinner is at home, sirloins on the barbie.

Game 3 Oils and Ducks on the tele. Crazy game.

The Incredibles, part one. This time, my mom zonks out first, so they decide to call it a night.

Day 5...
Banff - Cave and Basin (apparently, the cradle of the entire Parks Canada ministry)

Picnic lunch along the Bow near downtown Banff.

Quick drive to Sulphur Mountain gondola and hot springs. Then, I realize that we've been here before, on a previous visit to Alberta when my cousin V got married. So, no sense in tracing old tracks.

Quick visit to Lake Louise. The ice castle is gone and the lake is in a neat semi-frozen state.

Dinner at home wherest the Queen cooks up a meal for our friends J, P and E.

Mom and dad are offered the continuation of The Incredibles. They politely decline, opting instead for reading and watching the, how appropriate, crowning of the new American idol.

They start packing...

A twist on the typical Lake Louise shot, where the merging mountains are seen only in reflection.

Oh, oh! Let me hold the camera too long and I start fooling with the settings and taking candid shots (never was a big fan of portrait shots). I believe that candidacy captures an unscripted and unrehearsed sincerity.

Unfortunatley, in a place of such stunning beauty, racism still rears its ugly head.

Here's E kickin' it live with the Queen and King!

Day 6...
Nothing planned today. It was a quiet day, with Mom and Dad waking up at around 8, having a small, simple breakfast and then going for a stroll. The weather has been just amazing for their entire visit and they wanted to soak in the fresh air one more time. Around noon, we put all the bags into the car and headed for the airport. They got their boarding pass and we said our farewells. Until the next royal visit!

A tribute to a royal set of hands. Each wrinkle line represents a soiled diaper changed, a life-giving meal prepared, a deserved spanking prescribed. One of many hems sewn, too many heavy shopping bags lugged, another lecture articulated. An apple peeled, a watermelon deseeded, another mess cleaned up. A desparate phone call picked up, another piano lesson driven to, a guilty tear wiped, and a scared hand held. She really only needs one, but with two, she has done some amazing things.

WARMER TEMPERATURES

2006-05-18T23:02:00.000-04:00

Warmer temperatures, at points soaring past the 30 degree mark, make it forgivable to think that Calgary went straight from winter (albeit a mild one, probably best described as an early spring that showed up sometime in January) to summer. Runners and riders are teeming on the paths, more than usual, donning tank tops and shades. Despite the obvious strain from working out, everyone seems to be in a good mood, smiling or waving to those passing in the opposite direction. There are definitely more Canada Geese now, waddling from one side of the path to the other, leaving fresh, umm, mementos which serve as obstacles to dodge on the course. Aside from the endorphin rush that comes from a nice run or ride, I look forward to the beautiful backdrop and the communal gathering of people who just love being in the outdoors.

With warmer temperatures, there are also other things that one notices. Especially whilst blazing down one side of Edworthy Park. The speed of this downhill descent fills me with glee and causes me to grin. But I soon regret this, as without warning, I ride right into a swarm of bugs. Soon, I find myself choking on the unfortunate few who have found their way into my mouth, my nose. Trying to hold my balance while fighting the urge to heave, I quickly swallow whatever's in my mouth. At least I can be grateful for nature's complimentary on-trail protein boost! This experience is not restricted to riding only. A couple of times, these unplanned "snacks" have also occurred while running. Oh well, you kind of get used to it...

Warmer temperatures are also bringing out another interesting phenomenon. I heard about it a couple of weeks ago and thought it was just silly. When I actually saw it, feelings of silliness turned to admiration. DINGHIES ON THE BOW RIVER! Apparently, one can jump into a dingy (or another type of inflatable conveyance) in Banff and laze the down this river which takes you all the way into the city's centre. Commonly, one travels with 2 of these devices: one for human transportation and one for beverage transportation. So, when I was out for my latest run along the Bow, I see fleets of these dinghies, moving slowly along the river, the occupants seeming to have a great time catching rays, laughing, and keeping well "hydrated"!

Warmer temperatures also have caused me to set my sights on camping in the Rockies. Having lugged with me my meager inventory of various camping gear, an Ontario hike leader certification (which I'm sure is not recognized here) and an awesome new 2-person tent from my loving small group, I'm so stoked about making the mere 1 hour drive west into open backcountry. Well, to solidify this whimsical desire into reality, members from the aforementioned small group will be making their way to Calgary in the middle of July. To do camping, of course. And not at the comfortable, amenity-filled Camp Timmy's, but the real thing surrounded by one of God's most magnificent creations. Though it's still a couple of months away, I am so excited, to the point that I'm starting to study different trail maps and thinking about what other gear I "need"!

Warmer temperatures was also one of the reasons why my parents chose May to come visit me. Sadly, they're not as into snowboarding or the cold as I am, so it would probably be a wasted trip for them to come in the winter. So, after arriving this Saturday, they will be here for the better part of a week and I'm looking forward to that!

FAITH AS SMALL, MOUNTAINS SO BIG

2006-05-13T23:41:00.000-04:00

The lingering aroma of sweat. The fact that 40% of homeless people have an addiction (but no mention of what percentage of volunteers have addictions that are somewhat better hidden). The tour of emergency housing, "step-up" housing and finally, the low income rental units. The "store" where guests are afforded one new outfit after every dinner (and where 1 Calgary Flames jersey and what appeared to be a new pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans were waiting to be sorted). The Sikh group from the local temple that prepares an ethnic lunch every Saturday (and lucky for me, today is Saturday). The conversation with "Mike" about how he used to work for a dairy farm and how impressive it was that he knew so much about the Great Lakes and rock maple. The misconception that there is an "us vs. them", when truly, most of "us" are 1 or 2 paychecks away from "them". The revelation that true compassion is being able to love when there is no reason to love, to understand not from an intellectual level but through shared experiences. And Don's sharing with us his journey through abuse, countless group homes, equal time spent in and out of jail, Yonge Street Mission, stealing cars, and his current journey with the Seed.

Today was the volunteer orientation at The Mustard Seed.

From last week's visit:

Just moments before this picture was taken, Ella has a "run in" with Nina. See, Nina has gotten use to little kids. Or, should I say, she's gotten use to finding food remnants on the faces of little kids. So, upon introducing Ella to Nina, Nina gives Ella a big slurp on the face, sending Ella on her butt. Ella cried for a bit and was more cautious after that!

Ah! The life of a yellow retriever!! This was the day that this retriever's owners tricked her into swimming across a large creek and doing multiple hill repeats!

FAMILY, WINE, SETTLERS, AND CHEAP BBQ!

2006-05-04T15:18:00.000-04:00

A 36 hour visit is pretty short but we sure crammed in quite a bit in that time period. D & Z (and, of course, their beautiful retriever Nina) are trekking their way to Victoria. Prior to their arrival, I find myself at Petsmart looking for a "gift" for Nina. How does one buy a gift for a dog? It seems that dogs can never have enough toys so I find myself stuck in the toy aisle, confused by the selection of chew toys that loom around me. Why do they make toys that are "cute" by human standards (like a cuddly monkey or a chubby rabbit)? Can dogs really make that distinction? Just then, a lady enters the aisle with her dog. The dog makes a B-line towards this toy found on one of the lower shelves and snatches it. It's a chew toy shaped like a jack (those multi-sided things that you play with on a sidewalk while bouncing a ball). It's plush, the size of a basketball and is in different colours (wait, aren't dogs colourblind?). Thankful for the impromptu focus group survey, I grab one of those jacks and a red Petsmart tennis ball.

As they pull in, I help with some of the bags. Nina has a much needed conversation with Mother Nature and then we head inside. As soon as Nina steps in, she spots the tennis ball and darts for it. Instantly, the ball is in her mouth and she retreats to a corner, wagging her tail wildly in contentment. The plush jack is pretty much ignored, but she would eventually grab it and play with it too. That's when I find out that, embedded at the ends of each arm of the jack is a squeaker, chirping each time she bites down on it.

Dinner at Sushi Towa, breakfast at Second Cup, lunch at Saigon Palace. Romps through Edworthy and Fish Creek. Lessons in limnology and river ecologies. AND LOTS OF SETTLERS! The second dinner was a full course steak dinner (not like the simple ones that I usually prepare). Z's culinary prowess proved that a great meal can be prepared in the simplest of kitchens. To help compliment the meal, we welcomed a troop of eventual empties that would contain: Big Red House California Red, Fat Bastard Limited Release Cabernet Sauvignon, NKMIP Merlot, Jackson Triggs Cabernet Sauvignon, and Sandhill Chardonnay. Dinner was topped off by some delicious mousses. Originally, we were going to head down to the Red Mile after dinner, since it was game 7 of the Flames vs. the Ducks. But, because of a certain choking incident, we agreed that the now famous stretch of 17th Avenue would be pretty quiet. So, we played more Settlers. Z is a really good player. But, we figured that with all the wine consumed, this should help level the playing field. No such luck, as Z whooped us! Still, both D and I managed to win a game during those two days of playing.

So, they're off now, on a spectacular drive through the mountains to eventually arrive on the coast. Meanwhile, back in Calgary, I'm discovering the wonderful community of Craig's List. Convinced that broiling steak is not safe in the long run (a couple of steaks have already set on fire due to being so close to the oven's broiling element), I've long considered a BBQ grill. There is a natural gas hookup in my patio so a natural gas BBQ grill would be preferable. Yet, the fact that natural gas grills are typically more expensive than the propane equivalent has made me gun shy. "Broil King NG BBQ - $20". What?! Apparently, there is someone in the NW that just recently purchased a new grill and is looking to unload his old one. So, after a quick inspection to make sure that all the elements work, I walk away with a CHEAP GRILL! MUCH THANKS TO G WHO HELPED ME CART THE THING BACK IN HIS F-150!!

Now, to prepare for my parents' visit in a couple of weeks...

BEING LOST BECAUSE OF TENTATIVENESS IS BAD!

2006-05-02T03:04:00.000-04:00

With nicer weather taking up residence in Calgary, it's hard to let a sunny afternoon pass by without doing something outside. So, I decided to explore the Glenmore Resevoir (I was there with D in the winter time and we were on foot, so we didn't make it very far). I was told that there was quite an extensive contained trail here. Gentle slopes, flanking trees, and lots of wildlife made for a great ride! Part of the trail went behind a hospital, and it was nice seeing some patients and their families sitting on the benches along the trail, taking in the warm spring air and beautiful scenery. I passed kids on their bmx's, joggers and a couple who were rollerblading. I remember them because they were pointing out some of the houses near the trail and how they thought the renovations looked nice. It's hard NOT to be distracted by the different kinds of scenery found on the trail. Anyways, I'm blazing along when I see some orange constructions signs, indicating a detour of the path. The detour leads me onto a bridge that crosses over one of the larger roadways, the Glenmore Trail. I suddenly realize the mental picture of the trail map I took is now useless because I'm feeling lost. If memory serves me correct, I'm pretty far from where I parked my car, and judging by the direction that this trail was now heading, I'd be heading even further away. I decide to turn around. So I pass the hospital, the kids on their bikes and the observant rollerbladers; I go by the same ravine and the same marshes. I finally reach the beginning of the trail, some 40 minutes later. I'm just about to get off my bike when I see a familiar face. Actually, 2 familiar faces: the rollerbladers that I had passed were now out of their blades and loading up the car! They were relaxed and looked like there were there for a while. I kicked myself for not staying on the trail. I kicked myself even harder when I get home and look at the trail map once more...

Kinda reminds me of a time when C and I went to Frontenac Park for some early autumn camping. We had a trail map (a nice one with topography from MEC) which indicated where the different junction points and campsites were. There was this one part of the trail that snaked its way through a valley deep within some towering trees. The path that we followed soon faded and we had to go by topography and distances. Well, this proved not to be effective as we suddenly found ourselves lost. We ended up pacing back and forth for quite some time. At one point, we decided to drop our packs and do some unencumbered reconnaissance. Frustrated, we decided to eat lunch, feeling terrible for eating our Clif bars because we expended energy trying to get unlost. Well, after about an hour, we decided to go back to the point where we first determined that we were lost. It was on a wooden bridge that overlooked a marsh. We stopped on the bridge to ponder. Then C turns his head and looks up. There, on a ledge just a few metres up was the junction marker! Ah, we felt like such idiots - it was there all the time and if we hadn't stopped the first time, we probably would've seen it!

I see a recurring theme. Tentativeness can be such a destroyer of progress. I think tentativeness is a result of fearing the unknown. So, rather than taking the risk and deciding, the fallback position is just to do nothing. Or retrace steps, since what has passed is familiar, comfortable. I wonder how much more can be accomplished (from a humanity point of view) if we cast aside defaulting to familiarity. Most of my peers are first generation progeny of landed immigrants. Obviously, our parents took the plunge into the unknown at some point, not really knowing what lay ahead for them in a foreign land. I can't personally say that my parents intentionally instilled a fear of taking risks, so I have to think that the rest of my upbringing did that do me.

FOOD MUSINGS

2006-04-27T00:38:00.000-04:00

The Delta Hotel, joined to the Calgary International Airport, is located on the departure level, making it a very convenient place to stay. That is where G decided to stay overnight, before heading off for a meeting in Kelowna. So, we met up for breakfast at the hotel's restaurant. This restaurant has a buffet option, or you can order from the menu. Wanting to spend more time seated and catching up, we both decided on the menu option. Feeling patriotic, I order the "Great Canadian" from the menu, a mouth watering montage of eggs (anyway you like), bacon/ham/sausage, potato hash and toast, with unlimited coffee and juice. When my plate arrives, I look at it, then look at the person sitting at the table next to us who has gone for the buffet option. No word of a lie, I could have just gotten up, walked to the buffet table and assembled a more appetizing (and certainly more plentiful) plate! Luckily, food wasn't the main focus my unexpected get-together with G. It's always a blessing to spend time with someone whom I consider a good friend and mentor.

I had a much better breakfast (food-wise) experience this past weekend, when I was introduced to The Cheesecake Cafe by G & J. D and I met up with them after church for brunch. Huge portions, delicious flavours (I had the smoked salmon benedict) and, when you first walk in, you are welcomed by this amazing, glassed display of cakes! To soak up the resulting uncontrolled drool, they offer a plate of steaming fresh baby muffins for you to choose from. Most of our conversation centred around camping and biking and trailblazing. I AM SO STOKED FOR THE SUMMER! Technically, July and August are the summer months here and June and September are the "shoulder" months. It's actually better to go during the shoulder months as there are less tourists!

The night before, I went to Velvet with J & D, a quaint little lounge in the freshly renovated Grand Theatre. This theatre reminds me a lot of The Grand Theatre in Kingston. They have a decent menu and a pretty impressive wine list (the first place in Calgary that I have found to carry bottles from Alsace, France). I opted for dessert since I already had dinner. HAND MADE MACADAMIAN NUT ICE CREAM!! It was so good!

NEED MORE SHINY HAPPY PEOPLE!

2006-04-27T00:21:00.000-04:00

I've become familiar enough with my work routines that it now takes me no more than 4 hours to finish everything. During a 12 hour shift, that means I have 8 hours to do "other things". I recently subscribed to the Calgary Herald, a city newspaper offered by the same people who bring you the National Post. So, I usually spend the first couple of hours of a shift reading through it. Yet, I have found this routine to be more and more taxing. News just doesn't develop that fast, so it's usually the same stories with slight modifications from the previous day. Plus, it's usually the more depressing stories that are highlighted and written about by at least 6 different people. Like the 12 year old girl who allegedly murdered her parents and brother with her 23 year old boyfriend. Or the different bombings of people and places (which ends up killing people). Or the standoffs. Or the "oil crisis". If I was strictly an information gathering machine, it would be okay. But to think about the impact on peoples' lives that these "stories" have is just depressing. Why would anyone want to gather and collect this type of information? So, I find that I'm just going straight to the puzzle page to work on the words scrambles and word searches. I've become very good at the "can you spot 12 differences in these 2 pictures?" activity. I'm not smart enough for crosswords.

But, in the mire of so much sadness in the world, we have music and muppetry to pick us up!

TORTURE!

2006-04-22T12:33:00.000-04:00

For about 3 days now, I've been nursing a sore throat. It's not a symptom of a broader illness like the flu, because the rest of my body feels fine: no fever, no runny nose, no nausea. Just an extremely annoying itchy throat. It's fine during the day, because I can a. induce the coughing mechanism as a means to scratch this itch when I'm by myself or b. hold the cough in when I'm in public but work on my abs (funny how the coughing mechanism uses so much of your core!) But at night time, when one is trying to sleep... when I breathe, it irritates the throat just enough to induce the coughing reflex. Which means no sleep. I got so fed up one night, that I went to Shopper's (yes, even in Calgary they are open until midnight) and picked up some Benylin. Helped just a bit, but after about 2 hours, it would be back. Torture in its most cruelest form...

Because of this, I've been putting off doing a long run until I'm fully recovered. These past 2 days, temperatures have hit the low 20's and so it was looking quite promising for a nice, outdoor run. Well, it's now back to 0 again and it's actually snowing. So much for that...

During one of the nice days, I had a chance to break out the old baseball glove. EPCOR has a softball team and were holding a practice. I don't think I've put that glove on for years! But it felt really good once I got back into it.

Oh well, G is flying through Calgary on Tuesday so I'll have a chance to have breakfast with him! And then next week, D and Z and N are driving from Toronto to BC, stopping off in Calgary for a couple of days. And then, 3 weeks after that, my parents are here! May is going to be a busy month.

POWDER POWDER!

2006-04-16T13:04:00.000-04:00

As temperatures in Calgary climb to the high teens, I can't believe that I'm still writing about snowboarding. But that's just the thing about Calgary: travel less than 1.5 hours west and you are in a completely different world. During the gondola ride up, we chatted with a couple who were there for the 100th time this season. Wow! Imagine riding for a third of the year! When we got off, there was about 20cm of fresh powder waiting for us. The skies were clear and the sun was beaming. Which made it a little warm, which meant that the fresh powder quickly became slushy and chunky. Which meant that our particular riding approach was somewhat challenging. There are 2 schools when it comes to riding: technical and speed. G happens to be of the latter school and so most of my day was spent zooming down the mountain at super-sonic speeds. After lunch, it started snowing. REALLY HARD. It got to the point where each time we went up, there was another 2 cm of new powder. So, the afternoon was just amazing! Some of the best riding this year. Now, my dilemma. According to my Sunshine pass, my next visit is free. Obviously, I need to go again! Luckily, Sunshine is open all the way until May "too-fer"!

After cooking for D, we shot some stick at his parents' condo downtown. We then hopped over to Eau Claire to watch Lucky Number Slevin. He bumped into some of his university friends and we were both invited to join them at Joey Tomato's. As we sit down, one of his friends whispers to look behind us. There, sitting 2 tables away were a handful of the Colorado Avalanche and Calgary Flames, just having duelled at the Saddledome. Honestly, I didn't recognize them due to the fact that I don't follow either of these teams. But, I was quickly chastised for not recognizing Dion Phanuef, the Flame's popluar rookie (highly popular amonst the female followers for his charming good looks). He was walking around, signing autographs and just chatting it up with some of the other patrons.

I guess I can now officially mourn the Leafs, although it's a private mourning as everyone else in this town seems to be getting geared up for the Flames' playoffs.

INSOMNIA

2006-04-10T04:21:00.000-04:00

I find myself sitting here at 2:00 a.m., trying to get tired enough to fall asleep, as I just finished a set of night shifts. I am reading over last my entry and I'm a little disappointed. I think I had conceded to the OCD part of me that makes me anxious when I haven't posted anything in nearly a week. And so, it seems, the highlight of the week was the birthing of a new radio station!

The last glint of sunlight retreats over the jagged edges of the distant mountains. Oddly shaped clouds that seemed to have invaded the moonlit sky can now be seen, barely reflected off the Bow River. The rider races along the paved path, leaving the blinding city lights and nonsensical chatter of urban hum. He passes a couple, clearly near the end of their evening stroll, mindlessly shifting up and down his gears as the topography demands. Soon, the path of pavement becomes a line of earth, pounded down by many footsteps and other bicycle wheels. It is eerily silent now, except for the soft rustling of the dry yellow grass as the wind starts to pick up. A split in the path appears and now the rider must depart from the comforts of the wide path that continues invitingly along the river. Instead, he crosses over a set of train tracks and begins his ascent into a forest...

I've actually been spending a lot of time outdoors as the weather is starting to pick up in Calgary. And with the marathon just around the corner, I've been increasing my mileage. A short run is now 15km. I'm also keeping up with the triathlon training, although I haven't registered for any races this year. So, this gets me to the pool every other day (working on that bilateral breathing thing) and likewise on my bike.

His concentration on keeping the bike on a path that cannot be seen is annoyingly interrupted by the steep pitch of the ascent. Shifting to an easier gear proves useless as his rear tyre starts spinning. Breathing rather deeply and rapidly, he makes it to the first bend. Despite the moon being shrouded by the clouds, he can almost make out the treeline which escorts this winding path on either side. The trees are leaf-less at this time of year and it's like he's riding through an army of tree skeletons, each peering down at him with menacing limbs stretched forth. Yet another hill. In his strain, the landscape blends into a grey, formless mass. Except for a patch of white that he barely catches out of the corner of his eye. He looks a little closer as his bike slowly passes by. It is a bunny.

I had lunch with J&P&E today (who invited their friends G&J) at Central Grand, probably one of my favorite places in Calgary for dim sum. G&J are expecting their first child this summer, so, lunchtime conversations eventually turned to strollers. Apparently, the Ferrari of strollers is a Bugaboo, and Nelly Fortado was recently spotted in Toronto sporting one of those (and not necessarily for a baby but for carrying her shopping bags). I guess there is a market for everything! G is also an avid snowboarder - well, who can blame him?! He was born in Calgary and has lived here most of his life. So, I guess I'm not done this season after all! We're going to do some spring time riding 2 days from now at Sunshine. Spring, relatively speaking, because they still got 10cm over the past 5 days!

The rider thinks he is hallucinating, as his legs are just burning from this incredible climb. Yet, the bunny remains there, curiously watching the rider struggle by, wrinkling its whiskers in disinterest. A twig snaps to the rider's other side. Without warning, and in true tag-team velociraptor fashion, another bunny darts out, baring down on the rider. Its fangs are exposed, dripping a thick, hunger-induced drool and its eyes are glowing blood-shot marbles. In the silence, a deep growl is let out. As the rider braced himself for the final strike, he closes his eyes and reflects on what a ridiculous way this was to die. When the pending darkness of life's expiration did not come in what seemed like an eternity, only then did he dare open his eyes. Just then, he caught a small glimpse of the second bunny, scooting off with the first bunny, both swallowed by the thick yellow grass and fence of naked trees. The rider turned his sights back to the path and saw a clearing quickly approaching, where the path ended and opened up to reveal a street, one familiar to the rider and one that would be leading him home. Only when he felt that he was at a safe distance did he look back. The diminishing forest didn't seem so scary now and he chided himself. But at that exact moment, a flash of lightning erupted the calm darkness of the sky. Oddly, there was no thunder. The only sound that the rider heard was the pitter-patter of the raindrops as the heavens opened up. And the snickering of two bunny rabbits that had their way with him tonight.

Oh yeah, Preston Manning might be running for Premier of Alberta...

YOU'RE LISTENING TO...

2006-04-08T23:33:00.000-04:00

Despite having driven/bussed/run past it numerous times, it just donned on me that Calgary has a new radio station. Actually, an existing "oldies" station has been replaced this week by an "all news radio" station. It finally clicks that the discreet, green bench ad, bearing a familiar font and format, reminds me of something that was part of my Toronto past. Rogers Media has implanted into Calgary our own version of "680 News". Except, it's "660 News" here. When I get home, I dial it in and hear even more familiarity: traffic report on the one's, sports at 15 and 45, and the distinct single tone announcing the top of the hour! Even the stock music clips are the same. I swear that there are one or two radio personalities that I recognize from my Toronto listenings. Nice.

I'M A SCARECROW!

2006-04-02T01:50:00.000-05:00

J did a quick fly-by of Calgary for a business meeting. In between shifts, I swooped over to the Port-O-Call Best Western to rescue her, briefly, from bland hotel food. But it was a botched operation because I forgot my wallet! It was really nice catching up with her, sharing about wrestling with meaning and purpose at the current stage of our journeys. In a respectful way, I am envious of her vocation, working for a Christian organization that is involved with development and relief work all around the world. Me, I sit in front of a screen and look at numbers, I tell her. Yet, she reminded me that there are many elements involved between a planted seed and a blossomed fruit. Aside from the work in getting the seed planted, somehow water, soil and sunlight is thrown into the mix. And sometimes you need a scarecrow to stand there, appearing to do nothing, but purposed in protecting the growing seed. A hedge of security from unwelcome/unexpected elements.

My director likes to come up to me and quiz me point blank. He doesn't care for a full analysis, just a simple answer which shows subconscious understanding. He asked me, once, what the most important task is for someone in my position. I was torn between protecting our company's energy position and ensuring that we are operating in compliance. But his answer blew me away. He said that the most important thing is "our Millar Western Dispatch Hedge". Basically, we have an arrangement with one of our syndicates to effectively shut down one of their production lines if ever directed to by the province's system operator. In the event of a sudden energy shortage, one way of avoiding a blackout is by forcing larger consumers of electricity to shut down. If we receive one of these dispatches, WE HAVE TO get in touch with our syndicate and they must comply within ten minutes. What's the risk? Should we fail in getting the plant to shut down and a blackout occurs, we would be held liable for anything that might result from this. Worst case scenario, a life support machine fails to support the life that it is connected to. Obviously, there are more than just financial risks involved. And guess what comes in at 19:44, less than 2 hours after my scarecrow dinner conversation? My director has only seen these twice in his 5 year tenure at the trading pit, and the sirens that go off are pretty scary so you can't miss it!

It's a small world after all. In 1999, there was a University of Waterloo accounting co-op that attended the same church as I. We first met when I started giving him rides to church. Then, with his mom moving back to HK, he stayed a work term at my parents' place. Well, we've sort of lost touch once he went back to school and graduated. I find out recently that has been working in Calgary for the past year! After three weeks of trying to get together (he's an internal auditor, right in the middle of busy tax season), we get caught up over lunch at Milestones (he had suggested Catch, but they're, regretably, closed on Sundays). The food arrives, but we're so engrossed in our conversation that we pay little attention. After saying grace, we both have our forks into our respective omelets. What a second, I didn't order an omelet! Just then, one of the servers arrive at our table with a puzzled look. "This isn't what you ordered, right?" We both realize that it wasn't, and quickly, the plates are whisked away, a bite size portion of egg still impaled on our dangling forks. I wonder if they served those plates to the right table?

I wouldn't be surprised if they did. Recently, I went with J to watch a movie. She ordered a kid combo which comes with a slushee. However, the icy drink was served it in a large cup. After the server realizes the mistake, she takes a kid-sized cup, pours into it the contents of the large she just filled and dumps the rest back into the slushee machine! Umm. As they say "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle"!!

HERE'S TO WISHING MY SIS A HAPPY B-DAY!!

TRADE YA!

2006-03-28T00:39:00.000-05:00

The more people I talk to about their work situation (or what I'm able to gather from reading about it in their blogs), the more I feel blessed with my current placement. I hear a lot of complaints about long hours, office politics and lack of a meaningful purpose. It hits me that, although it's been a challenge overcoming the steep learning curve as a trader (which I'm still climbing; not quite there yet!), I really can't complain. A typical 'day' for me includes creating various reports, generating forecasts and commentaries about market conditions, and submitting an offer strategy to market our energy position. These routine tasks take no more than 3 hours to complete. So what am I expected to do for the other 9 hours? My role is one of those whose value is created by just "being there". Kind of like a firefighter or 911 dispatch; it's critical that I am "there" to do my job if/when something big happens. This usually means a significant change in the market landscape, like one of our generators breaking down. We have a very small window of opportunity to react in a situation like this and so it's key that someone in my role is constantly primed to go. And what is the trade off for this role? Honestly, the actual amount of work I do probably doesn't justify my salary. I get 4-6 days off at a time (typically, I only work 12 days in a month). When I do have to work on statutory holidays, the company treats me to fine dining. I can use the other 9 hours to do other things, like reading or studying. And, when my shift ends, it ends. No overtime, no having to VPN in, no having to take calls at weird hours. I had a nice chat with my HR rep a few days back, really so I could thank him for arranging to have all the details of my transfer looked after, and he asked me if I was happy with how this job has turned out. I told him that when I started, I had no expectations. I told him that I was really enjoying the role and that it was both challenging and rewarding. He was good in reassuring me that, if I felt this wasn't a good fit, he would be happy to help redeploy me elsewhere. I told him I still want to stick with trading...

"Hey Tim, what do you do for work?"
"I'm a trader."
(possible replies from people who ask me in the first place)
1. "Hey, that's great, I'm a trainer too! I help my HR get new hires up and going on the systems!"
2. "Who did you betray?"
3. "Huh?"

One does not know how much they miss the simple pleasures of life until a period of absence is shattered by a typhoon of ecstasy. I recently walked into the west side of a particular mall, falling for the signage out front that claimed the availability of income tax preparation services. Normally completed via software on my own, I surmised that this year's filing might be a tad complicated due to my move. It turns out that this "service" was run out of Walmart and was basically a satellite extension of H&R Block. Fine. I've seen their ads and they seem to be a reputable company. After waiting for 15 minutes (and with 5 minutes to when the kiosk announced that it would be closed), I asked about their rates for tax preparation. "15% of the first $300 returned and 5% thereafter". I quickly pick up my jaw off the floor and slowly turned around to exit said Walmart. Aghast at how much I was hosed (hey, an attempted hosing is almost the same as an actual hosing), I shuffled past a Pearl Tea Hut. What? Sure enough, a bubble tea stand right in the middle of a mall that is anchored by Walmart, 2 dollar stores and a liquor store. Not surprising, the person serving me was not Asian. But, I had to deploy the all-time litmus tests for these places. "Taro Milk Tea, please..." and before I could finish, he asks "With bubbles?" Mmmm. I was tempted to try some broken Cantonese on him, just to test him, but thought better of it. $3 later (for a large, with bubbles, no tax) I was in slurpin' heaven, having one of the best bbt's in a while. When I arrived home twenty minutes later, I barely made a dent on the drink and decided to go to Intuit's website. A few keystrokes later, QuickTax welcomed me back, conveniently retrieving for me the details of last year's tax filing! 2 hours later and costing less than a sushi meal, my taxes are done!

At what age do people develop the propensity to sleep when someone else is talking? I suspect that post secondary institutions has a lot to do with it, forcing naive, blossoming students to have to be alert during 8:30 a.m. lectures. As a result, I now find that many adults (including myself) have a habit of dozing off when other people are talking. It could be an indication that the topic discussed is not all that interesting, but not always. Last week, my Director was in an informal meeting with two of my colleagues, just sitting around our work area, discussing a particular issue. Since I wasn't part of the conversation, I wasn't really paying attention until I heard "Ken! Wakey wakey!" He fell asleep right in the middle of this 3 person discussion! Or today. I was at SAIT taking an electricity market seminar. Yes, the room was a little stuffy and the material wasn't super exciting. Yet, I observed many of my colleagues playing apple bobbing on a few occasions. Not exempting myself, there were moments where I felt like I was drifting as well. And I fight tooth and nail, either by drinking or eating something, pinching myself on the tricep (it really hurts!) or even stretching. It's weird, though. The one thing that keeps me from drifting is when I observe other people drifting. I wonder if there is some evil side of me that prides itself in seeing others stumble like this; perhaps the prospect of them getting caught is exciting. And yet, this is the only tactic that seems to work. Reminds me of something I heard at service this weekend. It was about the Pharisee and the tax collector praying at the temple. It seems to be a natural reaction that, as a reader, you tend to side yourself with the tax collector. Perhaps the context makes it easy for us to do this. I mean who wants to be related to the Pharisees, the ones who were always being criticized by Jesus for not understanding the spirit of scripture? But, isn't a point that if we pass such judgement, we are actually behaving just like the Pharisee? "God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector."

This guy has some mad skills! I especially like the part during the drum solo! Now here's a man who REALLY loves his work...
Juggling Beatles

NUISANCE

2006-03-24T05:15:00.000-05:00

Reading “Rich Christian” has been both enlightening and convicting. It is a great collection of stats regarding those that are marginalized by current (global) economic structures. Mostly, the information seems to paint a picture of big, evil creature that is robbing people of their ability to live a dignified life. So, how is it possible for someone as useless as I to slay this monster…

It is interesting how something I came across in b-school is revisited in the current chapter I’m reading. In Ethics (ironically, one of the very first classes I took in MBA), we did a case study on Nestle and how they pushed their baby formula to mothers in developing countries. Aside from the fact that this batch of formula failed to meet FDA regulations in the States and was sent to “lesser regulated” markets, this company preyed on the naivety of these new mothers, often giving out “free” samples, disguising themselves as medical professionals to add credibility to their product. This example showed what lengths multinational companies will go to, with the obvious intent to deceive, to capture more market share. And, ironically, the course after Ethics was Marketing (the first few case studies were on companies who are praised for their successes in carving out unique niches that gave them a competitive advantage). Now I revisit this example. This time, the horrific impacts of Nestle’s actions are described. The result of their marketing technique resulted in mothers that became reliant on formula to feed their babies. Even if they wanted to switch back to breast feeding, they couldn’t, for all their milk dried up. Formula is an inadequate substitute for mom’s milk because it lacks the immunity-building components and these mothers, who could barely afford the formula after the free sample, would dilute the formula to make it last longer. This resulted in many of their babies becoming malnourished. I guess there’s one thing to unknowingly cause harm to another human but it is truly disgusting when profits are placed in higher priority than people.

I can’t, in good conscious, just leave my thoughts at that. It would be way too easy for me to dismiss my guilt just by reading the book or writing some appeasing words which I think others might stumble across. I live in a society which, frankly, has been built on the backs of others. Good fortune has somehow allowed me to be born in such a wealthy environment and it’s so easy, when my tummy is full everyday, for me to sit back and ponder these inequalities. Yet, I’ve had my share of shrimp (how many tropical mangroves were destroyed for that pleasure?) and I’ve certainly eaten and written so passionately about beef (how many rainforests were taken down for that pleasure?) – I’m as guilty as the ones at Nestle who made those decisions just by being a member of this society. I’m not trying to come across as someone who is on a radical mission or even who has it all figured out.

I lean back, rub my temples and pull back another swig of this oh-so-soothing Timmy's double double from my mug. I'm not a big fan of the current Roll-Up-The-Rim campaign, although I think it is marketing genius as proven by the lady who was in front of me that quickly upsized her small coffee for a medium one when she found out that the small cups don't have the roll up tabs. However, in my meager attempt at conservation, I forgo the game cup and ask them to fill up the mug that I've brought with me. Then a question comes to mind. Where does Tim Horton’s coffee from? (Link to their FAQ). It doesn’t really answer the question (the real question, as in was it obtained in a fair manner) but it is well spun (almost too well spun) to deflect any doubts that a semi-conscious naysayer might have.

So maybe it's not as much about slaying the monster, but doing my part to help beat it back.

I’m not trying to be a nuisance.
I just think we can do better than this.
That was simply my two cents.
You can, you can, take it or leave it.

Nuisance - John Rueben

A MILESTONE FOR MY EL

2006-03-21T18:49:00.000-05:00

I have recently rolled passed the 250,000 km mark on my car. This is significant because I have never seen a number this high on any of the cars that I have ever driven. Prior to this current vehicle, I’ve been driving my parents’ cars. They include a cherry red Chevrolet Cavalier, a silver Buick Regal, a blue Pontiac Sunflower (I mean, Sunfire), a maroon Chevrolet Lumina van. Oh yeah, they had an old, beat-up Honda Accord that didn’t last very long. With the exception of this last car, all their vehicles have always been “domestic”/North American. It was typical that once these cars reached 100,000 km, they would have already died or were in the process of dying. When I was shopping for my current vehicle, Sam, my salesperson, showed me his Acura Integra. It had 425,000 km on it! That basically sealed the deal for me. So, as I recently crawled from underneath the car after replacing the oil yet again, I find I have a heightened sense of respect for the car. Kind of like meeting an old timer who has many stories to share. Stories about the many miles traveled to Queen’s university, the weekly jaunts to Niagara University for 2 years straight, the countless commutes from home to work, the journeys to Blue Mountain, having to sit on a freezing train from Toronto to Calgary, and, most recently, the completed marathon 22 hour round trip trek from Calgary to Whistler. It’s no wonder that I’ve accumulated so many km in the span of its 7 year life! In that time, it’s been my bed, my dinning room, my dance floor, my closet. My shelter from the rain and cold, my refuge from the heat and smog. It's lugged my bike, my snowboard and, believe it or not, a few dozen digital pianos to my customers. In it, I’ve learned (right off the dealer lot) and have come to love driving stick. I’ve mastered the art of multitasking by being able to drink a Timmy’s double double, shift the stick, adjust the radio knob and eat a bagel at the same time! Through it, I’ve become more comfortable in doing my own car maintenance and have discovered a whole community of other passionate EL owners. And it’s been very reliable. I was one of those over-anxious kids who got his “365” the day after his birthday. I got my license about 2 months later, so I’ve been driving for the better part of the last 15 years. Nearly 7 of which were in this car. In fact, I think I am very blessed to have received an anti-lemon! Well, hopefully I can see the day that the odometer hits 425,000 km.

Oh darn! I hope I haven't jinxed it, because this sure reads like a eulogy!

SOME PICS FROM WHISTLER

2006-03-18T09:48:00.000-05:00

Thanks to K who was our official trip photog!

Good ol' faithful EL - got us (and our gear) there in one piece!

First breakfast as Whistler. Notice how the toast has been shaped to be W's?

My Samson impersonation!

K and I are standing around as the girls go check out a menu. After a hard day of riding in the cold, both of our noses are running. K offers me a Kleenex, taking one for himself. After we both clear our noses, we catch a whiff. A subtle, yet distinct scent. BEEF! We turn around and see Zog's outdoor kiosk. We then see the girl at the counter ordering poutine. We start thinking about apres-ski munchies. But, I had to get one more sniff of this amazing smell!

And here is our apres-ski: Zog's Poutine Canadian. Instant heart attack, but oh so good! Those are chunks of sausages...

The top of the mountain is above the cloud line, so it was always sunny up here!

Dilemma! Groomed trail or powder run...

This is what I imagine heaven to be like...

I invented a new sport: snow canoeing! You get a full body workout as well as conquering those annoying flat parts!

This is God's country!

RESTART...

2006-03-17T01:16:00.000-05:00

Today was meant to be a really productive day. You know when you wake up and it's just so full of promise. You get out of bed and you already have a list of things that you can picture yourself doing. Well, when taking not even 2 steps towards the bathroom, I rammed my shin against the bed post. I should have taken that as a sign... The morning just seemed so groggy. I had breakfast and thought I'd tackle my first chore: replacing a burnt out car headlamp. I've done it before, so I had rationed no more than 1/2 hr for this job. Well, I tried and tried and pried and pried, but I couldn't get the darn connector to come off. Under the hood is not the most cleanest of places, so I'm now all covered in dirt and grease. My neighbors are probably thinking that I'm trying to steal the car. I give up. Cursing my own incompetence (and also why Honda couldn't make this easier), I go back upstairs. Next task, pay bills. But I get distracted (since a colleague of mine introduced me to Scrabble Blast - Internet Explorer only). Eventually, after 2 hours of doing nothing, I crawled back into bed! With the radio blaring and the windows drawn wide open, I was surprised at how quickly I fell back into deep sleep.

Maybe the first part of the morning was just a dream. Or I had awaken in a different dimension or space-time continuum. But, AFTER the second time I woke up, things were somehow different. I felt a lot more energized and mundane tasks were completed with ease. Paid my bills, marinated my chicken, and dumped my recyclables at the depot. I came back, grabbed my gym stuff and headed to the rec centre. Frustrated that the week off I took from this place set me back by what seemed like a month, I was determined to get back to my normal routine. So, no matter what pain came, I was going to finish off 35 laps (roughly 15km) on the indoor track. No pain came and I finished strong. I then proceeded to my weights routine and then off to the gym for some b-ball (and to my pleasant surprise, it wasn't booked for anything). It felt like every shot I took today was going in! There is probably some psychological explanation for why sinking a basket brings so much joy to one as anal retentive as I. Came back, showered and put in a rib eye into the oven. Boy, was it delicious! I washed it down with a Chimay (another Belgium beer, this one introduced to me by a fellow Calgarian - sorry, no Guinness was available today). After putting the dishes away, I decided to tackle the headlamp problem one more time. This time, I was armed with my trusty Petzl headlamp (meant for campingg but I have found that I use this for my everyday tasks, like car maintenance jobs and messing around the back of a computer). Instantly, I saw where I had gone wrong the first time. I didn't reach deep enough to grasp the connector. In this case, it released with ease and I was able to pop in the new bulb in no time. I was so happy when I flipped on the lights to test them, and they both shone in their GE NightHawk glory! I was reminded, once again, of the quality of craftsmanship and reliability of a Honda (I take back my curses from before).

I guess, all it takes is getting off to the right start. If it starts off bad, restart.

I feel terrible for my mom. Somehow (well, not really, because she told me she opened up one of those mass emails that found its way into her inbox), her computer has been infected with adware. Everytime she turns on her computer, this annoying window pops up. She called frantically, asking if there was some way I could get rid of it for her. Remotely.

I received this from my former division president in the Toronto office. He's Irish. Accompanying it was an office memo reminding all staff that at this year's St. Patrick's Day party, only one drink per person is allowed. In order to save money, staff were asked to bring their own cups.

Riding above the level of mediocrity

AT THE MOMENT

NEWS FROM MASOYI

SANTA, EWWW!

CAREER LIMITING MOVES

SOUTH AFRICA PICTURES

FAREWELL FAITHFUL FRIEND

THIS IS MY FATHER'S WORLD

HEARD IN THE FIELD (PART 2)

HEARD IN THE FIELD

WHAT'S UP, DOC?

THE 203-401 FELLOWSHIP QUEST TO CT IS COMPLETE!

ONLY IN COW-TOWN!

THE FREEDOM OF MUSIC

CHECK YOUR APPLICATION!

DON'T QUIT!

GOOD BYE, OLD FRIEND...

CLOSE ENCOUNTER OF THE SECOND KIND

ADVENTURES IN MOVING

GO CARMEN GO!

E.T. PHONE HOME

RATLOM

STAIRWAY FROM HEAVEN

THERE ARE MANY FOBS IN MY LIFE

MA, SANG YUT FIE LOCK!

DIDN'T DODGE BALL

AURAL PLEASURES!

MY DOG, MY DOG, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?

BYE WINTER, HELLO STRING

FOREFATHERS

THE BEAR ESSENTIALS

MY VISIT TO HEAVEN...

WE ARE JUST HERE FOR A WHILE...

OH BABY BABY!

HOW TO MELT A GROWN MAN'S HEART

POCKET BELLS

RECOVERY

THE GOOD EARTH

ABRACADABRA!!

THE HOLE THAT NEEDS TO BE FILLED

LIFE'S PURPOSE

INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE; PLENTY INSANE, GOT NO BRAIN!

MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES, FRIEND!

BUSY DECEMBER!

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

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

THE HIGH IN CALGARY IS MINUS 24

BRIEFLY...

KISS, SLAP

BEEP BEEP!

THE QUEST OF CALINTHGORY

COMING TO A BLOG NEAR YOU!

MY NEW YORK ADVENTURE

GO LEAFS GO!

PROPS TO YUNUS

HEADS UP!

STRANGEST LUCK

VIDEO BLOGS ON HOLD - I'M WITH KIVA!

WHAT THE MUCK?

THE PEN IS MIGHTER THAN ADMIN PRIVILEGES WHEN SOAKED IN MUD FROM SCHENECTADY

ALL IN CONVERSATION

LABOUR (OF A DIFFERENT TYPE) DAY

T DOT TIME

*@%#$*!!!!

ROCKY ADVENTURES; FAREWELL FRIEND

REMEMBERING THE 9TH

CANADA'S BIG DAY!

LIME GREEN HAT

ON MY MIND

LEAVING YOUR MARK

FANTASTIC REALITY: GUNS, SOCKS AND HYGENISTS!

MATT

EYE HEART TENNIS!

GENUINE COMMUNITY

IT'S SAND IN MY CRACKS SEASON AGAIN!

KAMPAI!

A ROYAL VISIT TO CAMP TIMMY'S

WARMER TEMPERATURES

FAITH AS SMALL, MOUNTAINS SO BIG

FAMILY, WINE, SETTLERS, AND CHEAP BBQ!

@%#$!!!!