A New Toy...

    When John got his new camera for the trip to NYC, I have to admit I felt a pang of jealousy, like he got a new toy and I didn't. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with the cameras I have, it's just that neither of them fit in my pocket and I couldn't see myself lugging this around-- although I may take it, it makes you feel way more professional... 


    I have old faithful as well but it just isn't quite a pocket camera either and Stephanie asked me a while ago that when I bought a new camera, if she could have this one...



     I guess she has a new camera, I'll miss her but maybe not so much now that I have this one...




      It's awesome. I went to London Drugs camera department and as usual was overwhelmed by all the technology but the guy at the counter was knowledgable and helpful--and having owned a couple of cameras, I knew what I wanted and what questions to ask. I wouldn't have picked Panasonic but this camera has all I needed, pocket size, idiot proof, wide angle lens, touch screen, touch screen focal point... the technology really is incredible.

This Was Out My Window This Morning...

Here's What I Know...

    I read this article in the paper the other day that was about short term memory loss. It basically said your brain is like a computer and when the hard drive gets full of useless information there's less brain power to devote to short term memory, hence forgetfulness and misplacing (then dementia).

   This turned out to be somewhat comforting as I have a history of losing the various elements of the Holy Trinity-- wallet, keys and phone-- and I tend to be a wealth of useless information. I figure the combination of the two could explain the ever increasing absentmindedness as opposed to attributing it to old age. I live in a bachelor suite (which seems appropriate as I'm a bachelor) and it never ceases to amaze how I can forget the whereabouts of  these items in such a small space. 

    I've actually gotten better at locating the big three-- but that's only because I really concentrate now and losing them is turning out to be way to stressful... before you put anything down think about where you're putting it (that doesn't always work, a month ago I threw my cell phone in the garbage with the rest of the trash-- fortunately the dumpster was full and I found it right on top). The trouble now is that I'm forgetting everything else, return videos (costly), banking, grocery items, sunglasses, sunscreen, toiletries, laundry, take vitamins, take lunch (don't throw your lunch in the dumpster and take the trash to work because they're both in liquor store bags). I just thought of something-- I never, ever forget to go to the liquor store... that's bizarre, well not really.  

   Now to the useless information. This blog was originally going to be compilation of some of the useless facts I've retained over the years and all that came to mind were two things...

  a- The only word in the English language with all the vowels in it, in a row is Facetious  

     

  b- I recall reading that the worlds toughest tongue twister is, "The sixth sheiks sixth sheep's sick."

    That means I must be taking up a lot of my hard drive with only two items and that doesn't make any sense (like any of this does) so I'm right back at square one. That article wasn't really  comforting, I'm losin' it...but cheer up, the worst is yet to come...

The Greatest Canadian Rock Band Of All Time...(Well Except For Maybe "The Hip")...

   April Wine...and if you watch this video long enough (I know the sound is bad) they're making latte's...

Back On Bowen...

     As the title says, I've been working back on Bowen Island for the last week or so. There's a lot of new construction there, property values are up and the yuppies are squeezing the hippies out. 

      A short twenty minute ferry ride from Horseshoe Bay, the ferries usually run like clockwork  until this past Monday morning...ugh. I always try to catch the 7:00 AM boat but there was a problem with one of the engines so it's departure was delayed about half an hour. Then on the way home I tried to catch the 3:15-- it was an hour late because a log got caught in one of the props so they had to send divers down to dislodge it. When we finally arrived at the Horseshoe Bay side the ramp that they use to off load the ferry got stuck and wouldn't drop down-- we had to wait for a bigger ferry to unload it's cargo before we could use it's bay. A commute that normally takes 40 minutes one way ferry to front door took 3hrs, and it was Monday. To quote BD... Aarrgh!

    Anyway there are way worse problems than that in the world and it is a beautiful place to work...

      The bigger problem about working on Bowen is that I have to make my lunch-- any place you can get a meal there is too far from the jobsite to bother going. At least when I'm working in North or West Van I have the option of waking up in the morning and thinking, "Nah, not today." After years of making sandwiches, even the thought of attempting one some mornings makes me want to cry (I can't make them the night before-- occasionally I will make extra dinner to take with the following day). I figure now if I'm going construct one I might as well make the effort...

     Mmm. Cobs bread...

     And ask me how many times I've got a clean tear off of this stupid plastic wrap and how many times I've just about thrown it out the window...


     One final thing. Builders are never very good at maintaining the crappers (especially on Bowen), they're supposed to be cleaned out once a week but rarely are--it can get pretty ripe. 

     So you know how you can spray some pine scented aerosol to freshen up after doing your business? (Dad always said it just smelled like someone shit a pine cone). This particular crapper is situated in the trees such that you can actually smell them when you're inside, creating quite a pleasant ambience and evergreen aroma--the shade also helps...


     On the trip home-- pathetic I know but couldn't resist, it had been a long day...

Stuck In The Seventies...

     Stephanie and I spent another Saturday afternoon at George Harvey's downloading early to mid seventies AM radio hits. I think we're in danger of becoming those people that say, "In my day we didn't have a day, it was night, and we were happy..."      

      Call it nostalgia or crying in my beer-- I love those songs and let's face it, the 70's were the golden age of popular music. From the singer/songwriters of the early part of the decade-- Jackson Browne, Jim Croce, Carly Simon, Elton John and John Denver, to classic rock-- Nazareth, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, Heart, Queen and Springsteen. There was glam rock-- David Bowie, T-Rex, The Sweet, Slade and Mott the Hoople as well as punk rock-- Ramones, Clash and Sex Pistols. I was in love with Suzi Quatro, the Runaways and Linda Ronstadt and I was afraid to admit it at the time but I really liked  disco (I couldn't confess, it was the "Disco Sucks" era and my sister liked the Bee Gees) ... Play that funky music white boy.

     It was even the golden age of country music as well-- The Outlaws, Waylon and Willie, Jessie Colter, Hank Jr., Johnny Paycheck, Charlie Rich, Tammy Wynette and Loretta Lynn. And we still had Elvis, Frank and Dean.

    Aaanywaays, I only wanted to post this classic before I got carried away. A video by a guy I didn't want to admit liking either-- because my parents were fans but this song always strikes a chord, whatever that means...

 

More Than A Hike, An Education...

      Went for a hike yesterday to the top of Quarry Rock in Deep Cove with my friend Nicola and her seven year old daughter Lucy. When I first got to her place, they were eating breakfast on the front deck. 

      I hadn't seen Lucy in a while (maybe a year) and in the past encounters with her she was usually quite shy around me. This morning, however, she looked at me after I sat down and said, "He looks different, mum." To which Nicola replied with something like, "His, name is Dan and what do you mean, different ?"

      Fearing the worst because kids can be so dang honest I braced myself for the answer. Lucy simply said, "He has a different watch on." Maybe she decided to exercise a little diplomacy from her original thought but I felt a mild sense of relief, a dodging of the proverbial bullet. Nic seemed to think that was an unusual question and asked her what kind of watch I had on last time to which Lucy replied, "I don't remember." Hmmm.

      Next Lucy asked me if I wanted to see her wood bug farm.... heck ya I do. She had taken these bugs and put them in a tupperware container with some lettuce and a hunk of wood. As I watched her sprinkle water on them she told me that there were babies. Lucy lifted up the piece of wood to show me and there they were, eggs, babies and a whole lot of wood bugs. I think I said, "Cool."-- lame I know but it's all I could come up with, I'd never seen a wood bug farm before. 

       She then asked me if I wanted to see the fairy house-- fairy house? Are you kidding me? We made our way up this small trail in the forest behind their place and there it was, a tiny wooden house where the fairies live. Unfortunately for me they weren't home at the time-I think they were out gathering huckleberries because that's what fairies eat.

      Anyway the hike was excellent, the view of  Deep Cove was unbelievable and I found out a little bit about wood bugs and fairies. 

Summer Songs...

    Stephanie posted on her blog today that Seals and Crofts Summer Breeze is her favorite summer song of all time. While I whole heartedly agree I would say that I could argue a pretty good case for this one...

And then that reminded me of this one... 

 

Southern Cross...

    John Hartwick recently posted a blog about the song Southern Cross by CSN. Great song--it reminded me of one of my adventures out into this world of ours. I have a friend in Australia that I went to visit a few years ago. I didn't know this at the time but he informed me that the "Southern Cross" constellation can only be seen from down under-- so it seemed the perfectly logical choice for my first tattoo (if there can be such thing as a logical tattoo)...
 

 

I Know It's A Lot Of Pictures But I Just Couldn't Decide...

      I went for a drive last Saturday afternoon on the Dollarton highway, it's a great strip to of road to take the top down and crank some tunes. The weather was awesome (as it has been for quite a while now) and cruising along I caught this out of the corner of my eye...

    I've driven by it dozens of times in the past but never stopped to take a look (probably because I never had a camera) and nearly did again, only this time I decided to brake and prowl around. All signs said, "No Trespassing" but the place looked deserted and I saw a good opportunity for a photo op... 























    As I was leaving this dude appears from out of nowhere. He was near the main building, about 100 yds. away, and from the distance he motioned at me to approach him. My insides started to churn as I could envision a crazy person smashing my camera (and my head) for taking illegal photos. When we were within striking distance I encountered a scraggy, yellow-toothed, ball cap wearing, bespectacled, hillbilly type (even though we don't have hillbillies) that possessed a bouquet of alcohol and cigarettes. 

       He was some sort of caretaker/security guard-- asked me if I was with the press, how I got past the alarm and what I was doing here. A little freaked out, I explained I had just stopped to snap a few pics and was definitely not with the press. He told me this is one of the last working shipyards in Canada and because it is on the Indian reserve there has been some unpleasantness between the owner (private) the Indian band (what are the odds?) and the government-- press were forbidden. 

      He turned out to be not a bad guy and gave me a little history of the shipyard and the owner-- although I could still see myself chopped up and fed to the giant ravens that inhabited the dock. I extended my hand and introduced myself... He said his name was Mark and if I ever wanted to take any more pictures, just stop by his trailer and ask... I might, it would be a cool place to take some photos in the fall, all misty and whatnot.

      He also said these giant ravens have become quite a problem in the area but the natives are unsure what to do with them because they're a "sacred bird"... it's hard to tell from the photo but those suckers were huge... and scary... 


 

Protection...

     When I started grade one, I was only five years old. My Mom told me she'd walk me the five blocks to Kitchener Elementary for the first three days and then I was on my own... 

     On the first trip alone, I had my first experience with people that were neither friends nor family... they were bullies. I was almost at school when these two kids confronted me saying I wasn't allowed to walk this way to school. Terrified and unable to really comprehend the why of what was occurring, I simply turned and ran for all I was worth. I still think of the bullies from A Christmas Story...

    These kids were two or three years older than me and continued their torments for what seemed an eternity. They would come into the bathroom and peek at my little mushroom cap as I would pee at the urinal, and if I was trying to go number two, one would peek over the top of the stall and one would stick his shit eating grin underneath... talk about stagefright. I was so scared to go to the bathroom at school there were a couple of accidents, sent home with your shitty gaunch in a paper bag. Every morning I was stressed about trying to go before I got to school and if I didn't, worried about being at school and the long walk home. 

    

   Then there was Valentines Day in grade three when I split my pants... 

     There was a party that day and not wanting to miss any of the festivities, I tried to remain in class-- quickly discovering in the first round of musical chairs I was too embarrassed (literally) to stay. Taking alley ways home to avoid detection, I came across my worst nightmare, Gary Hope. He must have been the most repulsive looking kid in school, think of a young Charles Laughton...

   That's probably a bit of an exaggeration but he was pretty scary--crazy orange hair and skin, his eyes were crooked and bulging, one a walleye so you couldn't tell exactly where he was looking. He ran out of his back yard towards me and said, "What are you doing walking down my lane, kid?" Paralyzed, I mumbled something about trying to get home and without any warning he punched me in the stomach as hard as he could and said, "Don't ever walk by my house again, kid." I had never had the wind knocked out of me before and I thought I was going to die.

   In grade six there was Shane. I always wondered why a kid you had gone to school with for years would suddenly decide to pick on you but he did. We were lined up to enter the portable for music class when he started to tug on the back of my shirt (Mom always made me wear the classic white undershirt... I hated wearing them-- the cool kids wore t-shirts) and said, "What's this kid? You wearing a bra?" as he pulled on the straps of the undershirt. When I got home I begged my Mom not to make me wear those shirts but to no avail, and to Shane I was now known as the kid with the bra... ouch.

   I'd never told my parents about any of these incidents until years later and as I was writing this I came to realize something and the blog took a turn-- my whole childhood I never felt protected. I had the three squares, some toys and a roof over my head, never lacked for anything but I felt abandoned, alone.

     I don't want to get too deep into it here but as a kid there was always a lot of drinking and Mom would often rage. I recall thinking she could probably scream in an empty room-- some of the rages seemed to last for days. I honestly can't remember what she was yelling about (I started to glaze over) but I do remember the peace, quiet and sense of relief when she would finally calm down. As this was happening I would always look at my Dad and wonder why he didn't tell her to stop, to just shut-up but soon I realized he had adopted the "peace at any price" philosophy... you don't tug on Supermans cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger and you don't mess with my Mom in the middle of a hollering binge.

    Lastly, when I was eleven my Grandpa Bill committed suicide (my Mom's Dad)...

   He had purchased a gun somehow through the mail out of Montreal and had performed the deed in Confederation Park in North Burnaby. The only problem being (among many) was that he had hidden the suicide note and when it was finally found under the iron in a cupboard it contained no mention of his whereabouts. The body wasn't found for six weeks and during that time I couldn't possibly convey the craziness that ensued but I can tell you about this one particular night. 

    I was in my room listening to the insanity happening just outside my door when I got on my knees on my bed (not to pray) to look out my bedroom window. It was a cold, windy November night and the moon was lighting up the trees in the back yard. I don't want to come off as melodramatic but as I was looking at those trees being beaten around by the wind something inside of me snapped, maybe it was the loss of childhood or the loss of innocence but I started to feel... nothing, I shut down. Through all that had happened not one adult had asked me how was doing, how I was handling things. 

   There is still a tendency here for me to want to defend the lack of real caring or protection from the adults, they didn't know any better etc. My parents and I have sort of discussed these issues over the years-- they are definite sore spots and wounds that are better left unopened. Good, bad or indifferent my folks have even admitted that they love my sister and I but they were never really cut out to be great parents... cop out or the truth? I suspect the truth.

   I do remember my Aunt (Dad's brothers wife) asking me how I was doing through all this ( I could tell she was genuinely concerned) but having never answered a question like that in my life I think I mumbled, "Fine..."