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Cold Turkey

Posted in Lifes Observations, Small town life, tagged , , , , , on June 20, 2010| Leave a Comment »

Today celebrates my first guest poster and I am honoured that it is my mother who, through this example shows us that this is not just a small town, or a small country, but a small world.  So, take it away mom!

Somewhere between 15 and 20 years ago, my daughter received a frozen turkey from her boss at Thanksgiving. That was the good news. The bad news was that it wasn’t Kosher and my home is.

After some consideration I decided to give it to my non-Jewish friend, Joni. She kept it frozen and made a scrumptious turkey dinner for Christmas and invited us. That bloomed into a tradition that still exists, even though she moved from Montreal to Kitchener Ontario.

Although we were friends prior to the turkey and often got together on a Saturday night, we always ate out.  Since that time, whenever a turkey was involved we were invited. We were not the only ones at the table. There was usually an assortment of interesting people there.

For instance, while still in Montreal, Joni and her husband, being skiers, shared a chalet in Stowe, Vermont for the winters with a bunch of other people from Canada and the U.S. who were skiers.

One day Joni called to invite us for turkey dinner as one of the people who shared the chalet, Ron from Washington, D.C, was in Montreal for the Tour de l’Ile, an annual bicycle race around the island of Montreal (I think it’s a race or marathon) and people come from all over to take part in it. Ron, Joni, her brother and the regular writer of this blog used to partake in the race. Anyhow, here we are all sitting around the table enjoying our dinner while Ron told us stories about his recent trip to Tibet. He went with a tour. They were at the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains and the guide asked if anyone was interested in climbing. He was. It turned out that only he and a couple from Montreal were fit enough to make the climb. He said the three of them became friendly being the only ones there and the fellow he befriended gave him his card and told him to call if he ever came to Montreal. I asked the person’s name.

“Oh, yah, right. How many people in Montreal, 2 million? I don’t think you know them.”

“You never know” I replied.

He took out the business card and handed it over to me.  I freaked. The person on the card was Irving, the son of my father’s close friend. My father and his friend were both custom tailors. They were part of a group that used to play gin rummy every week, often at our home. When I told Ron, he thought I was pulling his leg. But the best is yet to come. When my husband saw who it was, he said that the Irving’s father made his Bar Mitzvah  suit for him some fifty years ago, and he has a movie of his Bar Mitzvah* where at one point they are showing off the suit and show the label.

So before I even knew my husband we were connected. I did know that my father’s friend made his suit.

When my Dad was phoning the whole world to tell everyone his daughter was getting married and to who, his friend said, “What do mean, do I know them? I made his Bar Mitzvah suit for him!”

It’s a small world, after all!

*For those that may not know, a Bar Mitzvah is when a young Jewish boy (13yrs) is called upon the read from the Torah.  It is a right of passage where the boy becomes responsible for his  adherence to the laws, traditions and ethics of the religion. Before such time it is the responsibility of the parent.

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Fish Sticks

Posted in Lifes Observations, tagged , , , , , , , , on June 16, 2010| 2 Comments »

I don’t play a lot of jokes on people I think practical jokes are stupid, mean and usually don’t end well.  But in this instance I couldn’t help myself.

Back in my banking days a co-worker, (Kim) was given a betta (Siamese fighting fish) from one of our customers.  Kim kept the fish (who we will call ‘fish’) on her desk and grew quite attached.  One fateful day Kim asked me to look after Fish while she went on vacation.  I don’t know what came over me.  Two days before Kim was to come back to work I found a fish bowl exactly like Kim’s, I found the same blue gravel the same plant the same everything.  Then I got a fish, Kim’s fish was red, I purchased a blue one.  On the day of kim’s return I exchanged the red one with the blue one.  Kim went right to fish as I pretended to count the money in my teller drawer.  It took about 15 minutes before Kim came running across the bank;

“Brian what happened to Fish?”  

“Nothing, why? is everything okay?”

“He is blue!”

I didn’t really have a plan.  I figured she would assume Fish had died and I tried to cover it by replacing it with an imposter only I was too stupid to buy another red one.  But something in the way Kim looked and sounded told me that Kim thought it was still Fish, so…

Me, “Yeah, and?”

“When I left he was red!”

“Really? how long have you been gone, two weeks?”

“Brian, Fish was red! is there something wrong with him?”

Blink! “Uhm no, I thought he changed while you were still here, I guess he changed colour after you left.”

“He changed colour, why is he sick or is that normal?”

Now I have to be fair, Kim is an extremely intelligent woman and somebody I greatly respect.  Clearly however this was not her strong suit. “Kim, Fish is fine all Betta’s are blue I thought you knew that.  They start out red but turn blue almost overnight when they reach a certain age.”

I noticed that the rest of the tellers vanished into the vault, they obviously couldn’t keep it together as the conversation progressed, I also realized I had nowhere for this scenario to go and it had to come to an end.  Kim had bought the story hook line and sinker and the look of relief on her face was priceless.  But all I could think of was how to back out of the situation without making Kim look stupid. Making her look stupid was the furthest thing from my mind.  I figured she was going to be mad at me for trying to cover up the fact that Fish had died, I could live with that as Fish was fine but this reaction while even more funny, had the potential to cause some hurt feelings. 

“Fish is fine Kim”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure, wait one second I will prove fish is just fine.”

At which point I got the real fish and showed Kim.  The next line was spectacular.

“Brian! You also got a fish!”

“Well yes I guess I did, this however is your fish, the blue one your desk is an imposter”  There was a pregnant pause while Kim’s brain kicked into gear and the gales of laughter that came from her was music to my ears.  She laughed till the tears were pouring from her eyes, she saw it all,  she saw the funny part of the joke, she saw how stupid she must have sounded and how funny that must have been.  She took it the way it was given a humours, harmless joke among friends. 

I write this for a few reasons.  1) is I think it is funny.  2) I watched a YouTube video of a magician making a fool out of his audience and was reminded of why there are people who don’t like magicians.  To my magic friends, please respect your audience, they are there for you, shouldn’t you be there for them? 3) We would all be better off if we didn’t take ourselves so seriously.

By the end of the week each teller had a fish at their window.  We loved them, we looked after them made sure the bowls were always clean, they gave the bank a really nice atmosphere.  The customers loved them and the regulars would come in and check on each fish.  Some of the tellers allowed the customers to name the fish.  I however named mine ‘Stick’. People would ask me why his name was stick.  I just told them to think about it.  Usually as they were leaving the bank they would start to laugh.  They got it! ‘fish stick’

We had the fish for about 6 months or more when the powers that be told us we could not keep the fish at the bank.  We tried to fight the decision,  customers called the manager and district manager telling them how much they liked the fish, but those in power were not hearing any of it, and in the end we each took one home.  Stick, like all our pets became part of the family and lived for a good three years.  Today, a good four years after his passing my wife and I still fondly remember Stick.

 

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Decoration update

Posted in Lifes Observations, tagged , , , , , on June 13, 2010| 3 Comments »

I don’t like painting, actually I don’t like the prep work or the clean up.  Fortunately they have made technological leaps and bounds in paints since I’ve last painted.  We got a paint with no VOC (Volatile Organic Compound) so it doesn’t have that toxic smell.  Paint also dries quicker, perhaps it is just me but the paint itself makes less of a mess.  For the most part you don’t have to use primer, the good people who manufacture the paint now found a way to mix it all together.  But as we all know, you cannot have a light without a dark to stick it in. 

First you have to move everything, sand and clean the surfaces then tape everything you don’t want painted, put plastic on the floor.  It is tedious work that takes forever.  Eventually you get to paint.  An hour later you have to clean it all up.  It is frustrating that the main event takes the least amount of time.  Is everything like that? Could very well be.

Even though they mix the primer in with the paint there are certain surfaces that you simply have to prime first, and of course, we had two such surfaces.  Unlike paint, primer has not made such leaps and bounds in technology. Not only is it messy, it stinks. If you ever find yourself asking, hmm I wonder what they did with all that VOC in paint? The answer is, they put it all in the primer.  Now you have done all the tedious prep work, you have messed up the brushes and the rollers you have white crap on the walls, on your hands, your clothes, your hair! You have to clean it all up and  YOU STILL HAVE TO PUT PAINT ON THE WALL!  Talk about injustice.

Volatile Organic Compound.  I don’t recal ever having a headache that bad, I couldn’t move my head.  I’m not a hypochondriac but just a few days before we painted I saw that Gary Coleman died from a brain hemorrhage!  After listening to Brett Micheals talk about his near death experience due to a brain hemorrhage I was reasonably sure my brain was bleeding.  I was wrong of course. But it was bloody painful.

I don’t like flying,  but like painting, it didn’t take me long to figure out it wasn’t the flying, it was the airport.  The packing, the trip to the airport, all the people running around like bees in a hive,  finding the ticket counter, checking luggage, security, finding the gate it is all too much.  Once I’m on the plane I’m fine, I don’t have fear of flying I can’t control what happens so why worry about it?  I take two Benadryl (because two puts me to sleep) So I snooze, watch a movie, eat and sleep a little more. What could be better?   

In the end the airplane got me where I wanted to go and the room is looking great. While you can’t have a light without a dark to stick it in, it’s all good once you can finally turn the light on.

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Small Earth

Posted in Lifes Observations, Small town life, tagged , , , , on June 8, 2010| 4 Comments »

The players:

Farmer Bob. 

First, he is not a farmer, farmer Bob is a consultant for farmers in Tennessee. Here is a very brief and simplistic explanation of what farmer Bob does.

If farmer John’s crop is not quite right  he calls farmer Bob and sends him a plant or soil sample, farmer Bob can then possibly  tell Farmer John what he needs to do to grow a healthier crop.

Secondly, his name is not Bob.

Lab technician Clarice.

Who is  really the Assistant supervisor in an environmental testing lab.  In brief, Clarice tests plants (and water) for a variety of chemicals for a variety of reasons mostly for the betterment of growers and researchers to produce better products.

Her name is not really Clarice, (but she is my wife).

So what in blue blazes is this post about?  It is about small worlds. 

Farmer John in Tennessee is having problems, so he calls farmer Bob, who gets plant samples which he sends to the lab (here in Pennsylvania) where my wife works.  There is a slight glitch and Bob calls Clarice, and as always happens with my wife, they get to talking.

Before Bob went to Tennessee he was in California.  My wife lived in California until she was 19.  Bob used to do consultant work in California one of his clients was a poinsettia farmer.  My wife used ride her horse on the same poinsettia farmers land.    Bob raced motorcycles, my wife was also involved in motorcycle racing, (see where this is going?) it turns out not only were they part of the same SCORE (International Off Road Racing) for the famous Baja races in mexico, they also raced at the same raceways in California. They clearly didn’t know each other back then, but chances are pretty good that they crossed paths, probably more than once.  Here they are 30 yrs later in different parts of the country doing business and sharing shared memories together they didn’t know they had. 

Kind of makes you wonder how the moron driver you flipped off on your way to work this morning is going to fit into your life 3o years from now.

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Sixtieth Post

Posted in humour, Lifes Observations, tagged , , on June 6, 2010| 11 Comments »

Sixtieth post and what have I learned?

  1. Positive might be better than negative, but negative is funnier than positive.
  2. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink. Meaning, you can write whatever you want, however you want, but people are going to take away from it what they want, and interestingly enough, that’s a good thing.
  3. Ten posts ago I could not think of anything to write about.  There was a period of posts where writing was like pulling teeth, I was  pretty sure I was done.  Now I feel like I can write forever.
  4. Forever isn’t all that long.
  5. When I get an idea I have to write it down, too many ideas are lost because I’m too lazy to make a simple note. (although I’m still not writing down ideas)
  6. Sometimes my posts are technically difficult to write, other times they are emotionally difficult to write. I’m not sure which I prefer, but I prefer either one of those to the posts that are both easy and un-emotional.
  7. I don’t like the prep or the cleanup, the actual task is never all that bad.
  8. I pay way to much attention to my stats here on WordPress.
  9. HGTV is great, but it is never as easy as they make it seem.
  10. No matter how tired my wife is, if the right song comes on the radio, such as ‘Play That Funky Music’ she can paint, wiggle and sing at the same time (at least for the duration of the song).

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The Way Home

Posted in Lifes Observations, tagged , , , , on June 1, 2010| 8 Comments »

I enjoy the ride home from work. These were all taken on the same day, from the car on the way home from work about a week or so ago. I particularly like the 7th and the 9th from the top. You have to click on the picture to enlarge and see some of the detail.

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Fond Memories

Posted in Lifes Observations, tagged , , , on May 30, 2010| 4 Comments »

During my stay in the hospital I shared a room with MR. B. who happened to be the grandfather of one of my brother’s childhood friends.  Despite the difference in our age (about 40 years) we ended up having a great deal of fun.  We were both hospitalized for stomach issues, (although he had a few other things going on at the time) and we would cheer each other on every time one of us would pass gas because that is a sure sign that things were on the mend.  The passing gas that is, the cheering had nothing to do with getting better.

There was a period of two days that we had a burned out light bulb in our bathroom.  Why did it take two days?  That’s exactly what we wanted to know.  Turns out that the nurses were not allowed to change a light bulb so they referred the issue to maintenance who claimed that because it was a regular light bulb and not an incandescent bulb that it was an orderly’s responsibility, of course the orderly’s didn’t think that was correct and would refer it back to maintenance.  Mr. B and I wanted to see how long it would actually take so we were not about to change it ourselves, besides who needs a stinkin’ bathroom when you have a bedpan?  Mr. B’s grandson couldn’t let it go and stole a light bulb from somewhere and put it in our bathroom.  Otherwise I am sure 30 plus years later that bathroom would still be dark.  This is ironic when you understand that it was Mr. B’s grandson who used to steal street signs and decorate his room with them. 

Seeing the opportunity for something to amuse himself Mr. B would throw a ball of tissue on the floor to see how long it would stay there till somebody picked it up.  I couldn’t understand why he would always make sure and throw it directly across from his bed.  To be fair the tissue would only be on the floor a few hours before somebody picked it up, once it took three days because it was a long weekend.  Finally I had to ask:

 “Mr. B. why do you always throw the tissue to that particular spot?”

“Because I like to watch the nurse bend over and pick it up. I’m old, not dead”

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Hospitals, Always The Experience

Posted in Lifes Observations, tagged , , , on May 25, 2010| 2 Comments »

Yes, I have Crohn’s disease, and yes it sucks and some days it really sucks. But that is not what I’m here to talk about.

I vividly remember some key points during my first stay in the hospital due to Crohn’s.  They were kind of funny then and in my mind at least, even more funny now, the following are one or two such moments.  

 I was in the hospital because of a perforated intestine. The surgeon could not justify operating on somebody who was steadily getting better on their own, especially with Crohn’s because it is viewed as a ‘hands off disease’ even though surgery was the common way to go in this particular instance.  But my pain was lessening and I was eating so I vacationed in the hospital for a few weeks while they made sure everything was working the way it should and the broken things were fixing themselves. Finally they let me go home. 

 The next day I was back in the hospital.  I swear I didn’t do anything, but my intestine perforated again.  The surgeon that was supposed to operate was not in that day so I got the fill in guy, Dr Spanier. The first thing I noticed was that he was a large man weighing in at about 350 to 400 pounds.  I was trying to work out exactly how he was going to see me on the table, technically that was his problem, but in my way of thinking I was going to be the result.  He quickly put my mind at ease.

 “Brian, I know this is awkward because we have never met, I am now your surgeon and you will just have to trust me when I tell you that I am the type of person who you can put your life in my hands.  Any questions?”

 “Yes, am I going to survive?”

“Yes, anything else?”

 “Nope”

“Okay my team will be in to introduce themselves.” It turned out that Dr. Spanier was a well known and respected surgeon who not only had his own select team for the OR, I understand hospital type people from around the country vied to be on his team.

Of the team, I remember the anesthesiologist.  He also asked me if I had any questions.

“I can’t do math, I can barely count forward, don’t make me count backwards from 100” (I was a teenager and this was/is a legitimate fear of mine)

“You won’t have to count you will just go to sleep and wake up again in about 6 hours or so”

“What if I have a nightmare?”

“You won’t be dreaming about anything.”  

“Okay”

The surgeon came back in to ask me a favour.

 “Brian” he said, “Your mother is in the hall waiting to see you, and she is very fragile so I need you to be strong.  Let her know everything is going to be fine, the last thing I need is for your mother to pass out and then I have two of you to deal with”

 “No problem”

 A little while later the orderly comes in and asks if I need the bathroom, I didn’t.  “Okay Bri, here we go.”

Naturally, despite the doctors warning the first thing I did when I saw my mother was start crying.  The orderly put on the gas and I was on my way down the hall.  I remember looking up at the lights as they passed by overhead and I thought, this is all so familiar.  We stopped at the big double doors and waited.  I told the orderly I had to pee.  He laughed and told me it was too late, they will take care of everything in the OR.

In the OR everybody was nice and friendly,  they stretch out my arms so I was like Jesus on the cross, I felt them taping things too me, but looking up at the bright light all I could think of was “They have the technology, they can rebuild him” was this how the Six Million Dollar Man felt? 

The anesthesiologist kept telling me things but I was not paying that much attention until I heard the following statement. “Dr. Spanier is just washing up so we can get started.” I remember thinking, no, lets wait for the doctor.

My first vivid memory after the surgery was waking up and seeing my father sitting next to the bed.  (Seeing as I was on a steady diet of Demerol he may clear a few things up in his comments, we will have to see).  I told him that I was a little concerned because every now and again my entire body would jump about a foot off the bed.  Shortly after I had one of those dreams where you catch yourself falling down and I jerked myself awake.  “Is that what you are talking about?”  He asked.  “No, you will know”. Sometime later I had one of my little spasms.  I opened one eye to let my father know, but he was already out of his chair running down the hall calling for a nurse, yeah he knew.

 I also found out that Dr. Spanier’s operating team was not that happy with me as I didn’t think no, lets wait for the doctor, I actually said it.  I make no apologies.

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Yard Sale

Posted in Lifes Observations, Small town life, tagged , , , on May 23, 2010| 3 Comments »

Friends of ours were having a yard sale in Milsburg so we loaded up the car with junk and headed on out in hopes to further our progress in getting rid of some crap good quality items that we don’t have any further use for.  And then there are the books. My wife manages to read about 2 or 3 books a week, so we always have a stockpile of books looking for a home.

Milesburg is one of those quaint little towns where everybody knows everybody. the church is located next to the gun shop, the houses are old and beautiful, and the volunteer fire department is the focal point of the town.   The annual yard sale is a community event that has more to do with the neighbours getting together then it does about getting rid of items and making money.  The people were very nice and if I had to move into a town,  it would be a town like Milesburg.  And while it was a long day with more physical labour then I’d normally like on a Saturday, we did have fun hanging out with our friends, meeting new people. 

Even though people kept asking me questions like ‘how are youins doin?’ and hearing an abundance of expressions like, ‘gorsh darn it’ we did manage to unload a mess of books and other assorted stuffs. 

I couldn’t help but walk around the town and look at other peoples wares, I was, to say the least, perplexed.  I found, (but did not buy).  One roller skate, broken and dirty toys, puzzles with missing box tops so there was no way to know what the picture was, a checker board without checkers, two basketballs (the inflated one was 2 dollars, broken Christmas decorations, a dog kennel without a door, a cane with the head of a snake in which the eyes lit up, oh and hidden inside the cane was a sword.  What made the sword cane interesting was the woman who purchased it for her 12-year-old boy who was tagging along behind, he also got a set of throwing knives.  Of course mom had a rather large and I’m assuming prison tattoo down her forearm.

There was a blanket on the ground with a bunch of stuffed animals on it.  They were free, many people let their dogs go through the pile and select a toy, it was really cute seeing the pit bull running down the sidewalk with the stuffed flower in its mouth that it had chosen.  The really cute puppy rottweiler had a hard time choosing but eventually settled on the purple bear.  Then there were the kids. I was horrified as parents watched these dogs, rooting around drooling over the toys and then letting their little kids play in the pile of stuffed animals and choose whatever they wanted.  You all know I’m all about animals, but this was a little much.

Both my wife and I had trouble talking to the guy with the black stumps in his mouth that we can only imagine were once teeth.  He was very nice and like us, he was remodeling his bedroom so we had a lot in common and had plenty to talk about.  Of course I couldn’t look at him.  I still see those little rotted black stumps when I close my eyes. 

Then again, who am I to judge?  I kind of wanted the sword cane.

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Amusment Parks

Posted in humour, Lifes Observations, tagged , , , , on May 19, 2010| 5 Comments »

Growing up we went to amusement parks I never really enjoyed them.  I didn’t hate them I just don’t like the rides, the noise or the crowds. I distinctly remember my father once saying that out of the four of us children I was the cheapest to take to an amusement park.  All I need is a park bench a greasy slice of pizza and I’m happy. 

Many, (way too many) moons ago the family went to Knott’s Berry Farm in California. I remember two things very distinctly, 1) there were no cows.  What kind of farm has no cows?  Not a very good farm, that’s what kind of farm.  The other thing I remember is the flume.  I hate sudden drops, I don’t like get splashed and I’m not a freak for speed.  Why on earth would I go on a flume?  I get the distinct impression that the choice was not entirely mine.  The memories of being in the log, moving slowly up the tall hill are very vivid.  I remember knowing that we were soon going to be going down…very quickly.  I remember, off to the side just as we were about to crest over the top there was a stop sign.  I don’t know why it was there, but if you ask me stopping would have been a lovely idea but did we?  Nooooo.  Just beyond the stop sign there was a little booth, inside the booth was a lady sitting at some sort of controls.  I remember wanting to get off the ride and I remember they wouldn’t let me.  In fact the lady just waved as we plummeted to my death.  Okay maybe I didn’t die, but the possibility certainly existed.

I have quite a few such memories as we went to many parks,  but nothing compares to the cars at LaRonde, an amusement park in Montreal.  I’m talking about the little kid racing cars, and I was indeed a little kid and my little car was broken!  I know there are some people who will insist that it wasn’t broken but ask those people the following questions;  were they in the car?  Do they know anything about kid racing cars in amusement parks?  The answer to both is ‘no’.  Therefore the only person qualified to know if the car was broken is me because I was the only one in the car and I was the one driving the car.  The car only went to the right and it went in that direction until it wound up against the curb and could no longer move.  The guy in charge of the little cars tried to make it right by turning the steering wheel and pointing the car back on the track.  However the minute I hit the gas pedal the car would turn and end up nose first against the curb.  Why did do this?  Because it was broken.

When I was a little older I wound up on Space Mountain in Disney World, I knew it couldn’t go that high (as it is indoors) so there was no big drop involved, but I was worried about it going upside down. Just before we got on the ride and we could still change our minds my mother asked the attendant if the ride goes upside down.  He promised that we would not go upside down.  So we got in, the safety bar came down over our laps, the car had just started to move when the attendant called out to us.  “But it does go underwater” F’ing asshole.

It is not always the thrill rides.  There was the time, also at LaRonde, with my big sister and my friend Richard. Rich and I were hopelessly lost in the maze of glass.  The walls were all glass so you keep walking into the stupid walls not knowing where the real openings were.  Rich saw my sister on the outside and she decided to take pity on Richard and direct him through the maze.  She wiggled her finger indicating that he should walk forward.  Suddenly there was a loud bang and the entire building shook Richard, not knowing how devious my family can be trusted my sister completely and walked straight and hard into the glass wall.  Better him then me, but I’m smart enough not to put that kind of faith in family.  To this day I’m not sure how Rich escaped without a broken nose.

Then there was the runaway train.  I was terrified the entire time, holding my breath waiting for the sudden drop.  Then I saw the station coming up, the train slowed down to a stop.  I breathed a sigh of relief as the attendants stepped forward.  But it was a ruse, we had been tricked.  It really wasn’t the station, it was a mock station.  Suddenly the attendants were laughing as they stepped back, the train started moving faster, then the screaming as were suddenly  plunging straight down into the endless darkness. F’ing assholes.

After reading this one question stands out.  Why do I put myself in these situations?

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