Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from August, 2007

Time to Rock

I find time is at a premium lately. I get home from work at 6:30 in the morning, have breakfast/supper, spend an hour or so reading the paper/people's blogs/various sites of interest to me, and then I go to bed. I get up in time for supper/breakfast, clean up after that (how two people generate quite as many dirty dishes as we do is a mystery I'd dearly like solved). After that there's maybe an hour or two to relax before work. Not much time to blog. In fact, it's a fair bet that if you see a blog from me during the week, it's written at a time I should be sleeping, and therefore is substandard.
I do find with this Sleep Number bed I'm able to get by on less sleep. I'm averaging 6.5-7 hours a day, where I used to need 7.5-8. Pretty happy with this bed so far. I knew I would be: the kicker is durability. If it lasts eight years or so (it's rated for twice that), I'll be overjoyed. If, however, we're replacing it in four like we've had to with …

A Streak of Tears

The woman who was to be my wife came with two cats. My eyes lit up when I first saw them, which probably earned me some points. It certainly raised my already sky-high estimation of Eva. Simply put, I've never met a cat lover I didn't get along with.
Nor have I met a cat I didn't love, or who didn't love me. Admittedly, sometimes it takes some time for the cat to realize it loves me. But give me two days with anything of the feline persuasion and I'm golden.
Eva's two cats couldn't be more different. B.B. (short for "Bug-Butt", because she used to run around like she had one up there) was an undersized kittenish cuddle-slut embodying absolutely everything cute about cats. Streak, named prosaically for her markings and her tendency (as a kitten) to move like lubed lightning, was an altogether different beast: regal and aloof, she doled out affection on her own terms, and only if she judged you worthy of it.
I was not worthy, at least at first. A previ…

Prejudice Aborted

I read Michael Coren every Sunday, usually as an exercise to see just how high my blood pressure can go before I explode. About four times a year I find myself agreeing with what he's writing and invariably at those times I'll think 'even a stopped clock is right twice a day'.
You see, Mr. Coren is a devout Catholic, with all that entails. He rails against the secularization of society in some form every week, usually finding a way to work gay marriage into the mix. While I certainly don't believe our society is healthy, I just as certainly feel his prescription is worse than the disease it purports to cure.
Imagine my shock, therefore, to read his column this past Sunday...on the hot-button topic of abortion, no less!...and come away from it with my mind reeling, thinking you know, he's actually got a pretty good point there.

Now, I've always maintained that, as a man, I have no right to an opinion on this issue--which should tell you in a nutshell what my op…

Throw the Dog a Pun

It truly is the dog days of summer. Siriusly. I'm pooched for blog ideas, and when one does come along, I lack the energy to pursue it. What can I say...I'm a Terrier.
Been Shepherding my wife around to various shops. I tend to stay in the car and Rottweiler Highness conducts her business. Sometimes I actually have to go in and Springer loose. I just want to Pinscher (my nails, they're Shar-pei?) because Mastiff back acts up after awhile. Just not used to sitting still over that kind of time Spaniel understand.
Enough of that, Ken. Whippet.

On the reading docket right now: Perdido Street Station, by China Mie'ville. This book started out a bit slow, but it's rapidly ascending through pretty good into holy crap this is freakin' amazing.
Offhand, I don't think I've ever read anything so dark. This novel gets under your skin and lurks there, caressing your brain in profoundly disturbing ways. Mie'ville plumbs his thesaurus at every turn describing the filt…

On this long weekend that isn't...

I hope all you people out there are enjoying your long weekend. If you can find it in your heart, please spare a thought for those less privileged...those of us in the retail industry, by and large.

As I wrote a couple of years ago, this one doesn't count. Pretty much every store is open this Monday, for reasons that escape me.
For the most part I love living in Canada and consider this country to be one of the world's finest. But that doesn't mean it's perfect, and one of the ways it falls woefully short of perfection is its paucity of paid holidays. We just don't get enough of 'em. Not only do we have to go all the way from New Year's Day to Easter without a break, we only get two real holiday weekends in calendar summer.
Business types fret about our declining productivity vis-a-vis the United States, and occasionally you hear about our deficient standard of living (everywhere but in the Calgary-Fort McMurray corridor, where the average income is ten percen…

Songs About Me?

I used to want to live in Toronto. What was I, nuts?

I spent the first nine years of my life in Bramalea, a suburb of Brampton, which used to be a city in its own right and is now pretty much glommed on to the whole Greater Toronto Area. We moved to London when I entered Grade IV, and after living in what seemed like every neighbourhood on that city's west side, we eventually relocated to Ingersoll for my final year of high school.
Ingersoll was my first exposure to small town life and I vowed within a week of moving there it would be my last.
I still remember touring the pitiful downtown area on one of my first days there. Cool, there's a music store!...wait a second..."Open 10:00-4:00, closed Mondays." It was the kind of town where the sidewalks rolled themselves up shortly after dinner. Nothing made a point of happening pretty much daily, so by way of counterpoint, the local teenagers would populate the weekly police docket in alarming numbers. Nothing serious, so lo…