The little chick is becoming more and more articulate, and more concrete in her ideas, and it's wonderful to see. In some ways, it's tricky that she's entered that stage where she wants things done just so ("No, Daddy, not like that!"), but I'm really glad that she can tell me about it.
One of the more interesting manifestations has been over the last week and half as we've been visiting my family. She has, at some points, been actually jumping up and down, she's so happy to see them. I love it. There have been a lot of songs, a lot of dancing, and about a bizillion hugs. And while a fair number of them have been preceded by "Awwww, Daddy.....", there has been an interesting new development.
"No, Daddy - go on couch!"
"No Daddy - close eyes!"
"No Daddy - go over there!"
As she's been playing with my brothers, she's decided that, sometimes, I'm just kind of in the way. So she directs me... to go back to the couch, to have a nap, or to stand in the kitchen for a while, so she can play undisturbed. I guess if it was all the time, I'd be a bit disturbed, but as it is, I think it's beautiful. Beautiful to see her growing in confidence, to see her wanting to show that she can do it on her own, and, in the end, beautiful to see her come running back to me with a giant hug.
Beautiful.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Slowing
...to a crawl, in terms of posting. I've been busy - time with friends, time with family, and even managed to get in some hockey and wings. But have a good Christmas, everybody. Consider this a big hug from me.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
It's Different
Well, the little chick and I are back in Calgary. It's good to be with my family again, but strange in many ways. It's very, very odd to try to get my head around the fact that, a year from now, I'll be living here.
Everything is so far apart... I haven't even been here a week, and I miss walking. I almost never drive at home, and here, you don't have much choice. I'm really not crazy about that.
Things are so inexpensive. We're about to head out to the grocery store, and I'm looking forward to it. We stopped in for a few minutes before, and I was shocked, again, at how much variety there is, and how low the prices are. There is a lot of variety in Switzerland, too, but in strange ways... there will be 300 kinds of olive oil, but only two types of salad dressing (with maybe 3 brands of each).
The people are really friendly. My parents were commenting that customer service has really gone downhill lately, but when we were in one store and just turning around to go back and get something we had missed, a guy actually stopped and asked if there was anything he could help us with. In Geneva, if you can find someone in a store, they usually make you feel like they're doing you some immense favor just by opening up and letting you in. If you're going to start asking questions, maybe you should just shop somewhere else.
That said, I'm looking forward to going to get some ranch dressing, and good tortilla chips, and probably a whole bunch of other stuff that I didn't even know I was missing. I just hope that I don't get hungry for rösti, fondue, and fresh truffles...
Everything is so far apart... I haven't even been here a week, and I miss walking. I almost never drive at home, and here, you don't have much choice. I'm really not crazy about that.
Things are so inexpensive. We're about to head out to the grocery store, and I'm looking forward to it. We stopped in for a few minutes before, and I was shocked, again, at how much variety there is, and how low the prices are. There is a lot of variety in Switzerland, too, but in strange ways... there will be 300 kinds of olive oil, but only two types of salad dressing (with maybe 3 brands of each).
The people are really friendly. My parents were commenting that customer service has really gone downhill lately, but when we were in one store and just turning around to go back and get something we had missed, a guy actually stopped and asked if there was anything he could help us with. In Geneva, if you can find someone in a store, they usually make you feel like they're doing you some immense favor just by opening up and letting you in. If you're going to start asking questions, maybe you should just shop somewhere else.
That said, I'm looking forward to going to get some ranch dressing, and good tortilla chips, and probably a whole bunch of other stuff that I didn't even know I was missing. I just hope that I don't get hungry for rösti, fondue, and fresh truffles...
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Deliverance
The more I hear, the more I realize that I like a lot of music with banjo in it. It's a good thing Korey doesn't read my blog any more or he would be absolutely cringing, but I just dig it. I like it in traditional bluegrass (or even non-traditional, but still very much in-the-genre stuff like Nickel Creek), but even more in new, rocky stuff. Some great examples are Sherié Austin, or Carrie Underwood. It's really, really cool. Next step is to check out Bela Fleck a bit more.
So, time for a straw poll: what's the instrument, artist of musical style you are would classify as a bit of a guilty secret? Time for all you closet Céline fans to step out. Oh, and accordion is spelled with two c's.
You know, just in case.
So, time for a straw poll: what's the instrument, artist of musical style you are would classify as a bit of a guilty secret? Time for all you closet Céline fans to step out. Oh, and accordion is spelled with two c's.
You know, just in case.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Republicans
I'm watching a bit of the debate for the republican presidential candidates. I'm not really a republican - I'm not even American (don't tell them), but it's pretty interesting. Here are my impressions.:
Keys - has yet to actually answer a question. He may not be an idiot, but it's not helping his case when it doesn't seem that he's able to actually link up a (long-winded) response with a question. He's much more interested in talking about how his ideas are all being oppressed. I gotta admit, I don't get it. I mean, he's on TV, talking about whatever he wants to talk about. I wish my ideas were that oppressed.
Giuliani - comes across as legitimate. I can't help but like him.
McCain - good, well spoken and intelligent. Just gives the impression of a man who should be in charge.
Huckabee - doesn't seem to have much to say... nice sentiments, but vaguer than... something really vague. Like, a really vague kind of pudding or something. Likes his pet phrases ("weapons of mass instruction", "I can't part the red sea, but I can part the red tape", "we're a polarized country, and that's led to a paralyzed government"), so I guess he'll get votes from people who are into that. I don't have anything to say about what kind of people those would be. I wouldn't have guessed, though, that he's been a state governor for 10 years.
Tancredo - tough to understand... may have some good stuff to say, but he's not a great speaker.
Hunter - okay, I guess, but seems like he's more about good stories than principles, like McCain and Guiliani project.
Thomson - reminds me of a football commentator. That's not necessarily bad, I guess. Just depends what you're looking for. I did find it a little odd that he seemed to think that NAFTA was only between the US and Mexico.
Romney - seems to know his stuff, but just comes across as a little too polished, somehow. Maybe it's just because I'm Canadian.
Paul - everything he says makes it sound like he's trying to pick a fight. There's a fine line between determined and pissed off, guy, and nobody is going to want to listen to that for four years. Is he really that angry? I think he may need someone to help him.
They're all following similar conservative themes... freer market forces, enhanced security, less tax, smaller government. But at least they've admitted that global warming may actually be happening, and that people may even be contributing to it.
Keys - has yet to actually answer a question. He may not be an idiot, but it's not helping his case when it doesn't seem that he's able to actually link up a (long-winded) response with a question. He's much more interested in talking about how his ideas are all being oppressed. I gotta admit, I don't get it. I mean, he's on TV, talking about whatever he wants to talk about. I wish my ideas were that oppressed.
Giuliani - comes across as legitimate. I can't help but like him.
McCain - good, well spoken and intelligent. Just gives the impression of a man who should be in charge.
Huckabee - doesn't seem to have much to say... nice sentiments, but vaguer than... something really vague. Like, a really vague kind of pudding or something. Likes his pet phrases ("weapons of mass instruction", "I can't part the red sea, but I can part the red tape", "we're a polarized country, and that's led to a paralyzed government"), so I guess he'll get votes from people who are into that. I don't have anything to say about what kind of people those would be. I wouldn't have guessed, though, that he's been a state governor for 10 years.
Tancredo - tough to understand... may have some good stuff to say, but he's not a great speaker.
Hunter - okay, I guess, but seems like he's more about good stories than principles, like McCain and Guiliani project.
Thomson - reminds me of a football commentator. That's not necessarily bad, I guess. Just depends what you're looking for. I did find it a little odd that he seemed to think that NAFTA was only between the US and Mexico.
Romney - seems to know his stuff, but just comes across as a little too polished, somehow. Maybe it's just because I'm Canadian.
Paul - everything he says makes it sound like he's trying to pick a fight. There's a fine line between determined and pissed off, guy, and nobody is going to want to listen to that for four years. Is he really that angry? I think he may need someone to help him.
They're all following similar conservative themes... freer market forces, enhanced security, less tax, smaller government. But at least they've admitted that global warming may actually be happening, and that people may even be contributing to it.
Usually
If you're wearing sunglasses and holding an umbrella, one of the two is inappropriate. Usually.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things
Many of you have probably heard me say that there is nothing in the world that could make me sing songs from The Sound Of Music.
Well, I was wrong.
The little chick has wanted, lately, to sing "Do, A Deer". And so we have spent a lot of time (much of it with her on my shoulders, walking around Geneva) singing just like Julie. She's a little sketchy on the words, and I have trouble remembering if "so" or "te" is first, but we get by. So, yeah... turns out that there is one thing that can make me do it. Or maybe I should say at least one. I've learned my lesson, and there will be no more premature statements from me... ever.
And that got me thinking of a few of my favorite things when it comes time to pack up to go back to the Great White North for Christmas. So, in no particular order, here they are:
Okay, this one is blue, but you get the idea.
What are your "must-pack" items?
Well, I was wrong.
The little chick has wanted, lately, to sing "Do, A Deer". And so we have spent a lot of time (much of it with her on my shoulders, walking around Geneva) singing just like Julie. She's a little sketchy on the words, and I have trouble remembering if "so" or "te" is first, but we get by. So, yeah... turns out that there is one thing that can make me do it. Or maybe I should say at least one. I've learned my lesson, and there will be no more premature statements from me... ever.
And that got me thinking of a few of my favorite things when it comes time to pack up to go back to the Great White North for Christmas. So, in no particular order, here they are:
- Jeans - I spend a lot of time in jeans, even at work. I like it. I have two favorite pairs: one big, one skinny. I'll take them both with me.
- Red scarf - this was a gift from a friend and TYC reader, and I get compliments on it most times I'm out. I don't wear it much when it's really cold, because my warm coats are really warm... adding a scarf is like putting maple syrup on chocolate cake... it may be kind of nice, but you don't really need it.
- Flaming Chucks - when I first bought my flaming Converse All Stars, I wasn't sure when I would ever wear them. I mean, when is it really appropriate to wear shoes that look kind of like a 40's hot rod? Turns out that, when worn with confidence, they work for almost anything, and I've probably gotten more compliments on these than anything else I 0wn. So, they're coming with.
- Skinny sweaters - I still have a few bulky ones around, but most of the sweaters I wear now are made to fit under a jacket. My favorite is a fitted grey v-neck with disproportionately long arms. I don't have anything else that is quite the same shape, but I dig it.
- Jackets - to go over the sweaters. I spend a lot of time in a couple of nicely cut corduroy ones, one black, one almost-brown/almost green. And, on special occasions, the blue velvet comes out. Look out, baby!
- Tees - a couple fitted ones to go under the sweaters that go under the jackets. And a few other fun ones... my current favorites are a bright green Abercrombie one with Adam and Eve on it, a mustard Beastie Boys, and a gray Ben Harper one with his head with a giant 'fro on the front.
- Big red coat - known to all close to me as "the big red coat", this thing deserves its own name. It's made for going to really, really cold places, but I like wearing it in just kind-of cold places with just a t-shirt underneath. It's like wearing a warm shower. Beautiful.
Okay, this one is blue, but you get the idea.I look like the Michelin man when I wear it, and have had strangers walk up and poke me.
- Black shirt - as I've mentioned before, black shirts work for me, and I love my synthetic one... I couldn't wrinkle it if my life depended on it, so it's great for traveling.
What are your "must-pack" items?
Monday, December 10, 2007
Not Gonna Make It
I was really hoping to have, on average, a post a day for my first year.
I think it may have been a little ambitious.
I started on January 13, and, as of this entry, I have 323 posts. That leaves me just over a month to add 42 more, and, with Christmas in there, I don't think I'm going to make it. I considered taking drastic steps.
You know, like posting this one in three parts. Or writing about Yngvie Malmsteen. Or even just putting up posts with nothing but pictures. But I decided that I won't stoop to those levels.
So it looks like I'll be a little short. Maybe next year.
I think it may have been a little ambitious.
I started on January 13, and, as of this entry, I have 323 posts. That leaves me just over a month to add 42 more, and, with Christmas in there, I don't think I'm going to make it. I considered taking drastic steps.
You know, like posting this one in three parts. Or writing about Yngvie Malmsteen. Or even just putting up posts with nothing but pictures. But I decided that I won't stoop to those levels.
So it looks like I'll be a little short. Maybe next year.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Flashback
I used to clean blinds.
We would go into a home or business in the morning, take down all the blinds (venetians, verticals, pleated shades...), take them back to our shop, clean and dry them, and then deliver them at the end of the day.
It was a mixed bag... it helped pay for a lot of books, classes, and food. It was a fascinating study in business process change, training, and management, because I was leading teams with extremely high turnover and had pretty free reign with how they were trained and managed on-site. It really screwed up my back. It made me appreciate, in a way that's almost scary, how good it is to have a job that doesn't require me to shower when I get home.
Anyway, today there are some guys working on the heating in our office. They're moving the desks that are close to the walls. They're moving shelves full of books. I guess in a little while they're going to start tearing stuff apart. And it's hard to do that discretely.
And it makes me remember that feeling of going into an office, having to take off my shoes and climb on desks to get to windows... struggling with blinds that were big, and heavy, and in awkward spots to reach, trying to do the best job I could... sweating, straining, sometimes really pushing myself to physical extremes that I never would have expected would be required for that job. But I could always tell what the people were thinking.... "I work in an office; he's cleaning the things that no one here wants to clean". I wanted to tell them... I'm smart, I'm capable... I could do so much more than this, if someone would just give me a chance.
Well, someone's given me a chance now, and I'm doing just fine. I'm glad that I had that experience, though, just like I'm glad I've been able to live in a place where I don't understand the language that well... where I sound like a 5 year-old when I try to speak, and make stupid cultural mistakes. Because now I know how to look at the men moving the desks like they're real people. And when I hear people speaking another language on the bus in Calgary, I'm not going to feel pissed-off or threatened. I'm going to remember being in their shoes.
I wish I was more sensitive, more sympathetic. But I'm glad that I've been able to have some experiences that, even though they've been tough, have helped me to learn a little bit of empathy. It's slow, you know? It's a lot slower than I want it to be. But I'm getting there.
We would go into a home or business in the morning, take down all the blinds (venetians, verticals, pleated shades...), take them back to our shop, clean and dry them, and then deliver them at the end of the day.
It was a mixed bag... it helped pay for a lot of books, classes, and food. It was a fascinating study in business process change, training, and management, because I was leading teams with extremely high turnover and had pretty free reign with how they were trained and managed on-site. It really screwed up my back. It made me appreciate, in a way that's almost scary, how good it is to have a job that doesn't require me to shower when I get home.
Anyway, today there are some guys working on the heating in our office. They're moving the desks that are close to the walls. They're moving shelves full of books. I guess in a little while they're going to start tearing stuff apart. And it's hard to do that discretely.
And it makes me remember that feeling of going into an office, having to take off my shoes and climb on desks to get to windows... struggling with blinds that were big, and heavy, and in awkward spots to reach, trying to do the best job I could... sweating, straining, sometimes really pushing myself to physical extremes that I never would have expected would be required for that job. But I could always tell what the people were thinking.... "I work in an office; he's cleaning the things that no one here wants to clean". I wanted to tell them... I'm smart, I'm capable... I could do so much more than this, if someone would just give me a chance.
Well, someone's given me a chance now, and I'm doing just fine. I'm glad that I had that experience, though, just like I'm glad I've been able to live in a place where I don't understand the language that well... where I sound like a 5 year-old when I try to speak, and make stupid cultural mistakes. Because now I know how to look at the men moving the desks like they're real people. And when I hear people speaking another language on the bus in Calgary, I'm not going to feel pissed-off or threatened. I'm going to remember being in their shoes.
I wish I was more sensitive, more sympathetic. But I'm glad that I've been able to have some experiences that, even though they've been tough, have helped me to learn a little bit of empathy. It's slow, you know? It's a lot slower than I want it to be. But I'm getting there.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Picture Me, Lost
I wrote a while back about getting lost with the little chick while we were coming back from visiting friends in Germany. These are some of the pictures I took.
Sorry, there are only four. But if you want to see them bigger, you can see them here.
Sorry, there are only four. But if you want to see them bigger, you can see them here.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
It Makes Me Happy
One of the frequent visitors to TYC mentioned to me a week or two ago that she feels like I hold back here.
It's true. I post some of what's happening with me and the little chick, but certainly not all. I allude, sometimes, to some of the deeper or more challenging things I'm dealing with personally, but I don't (and won't) go into the specifics of the situations. I don't feel like this is much of a forum at all for what is (or isn't) happening for me romantically.
But, at the same time, I can honestly explore how any of these things are affecting me. I talk about what I'm not sure of, what I am learning. I can post about what Christmas really means to me right after I post about listening to an old AC/DC tune; I can put on pictures or words, be funny or serious, self-absorbed or thinking about things much bigger than me.
It makes me happy to be able to have this venue to write, think, and explore. And I deeply appreciate you being willing to join me in it; those of you who subscribe or check in regularly to read, and those of you who click on that little "comment" button. Thanks.
It's true. I post some of what's happening with me and the little chick, but certainly not all. I allude, sometimes, to some of the deeper or more challenging things I'm dealing with personally, but I don't (and won't) go into the specifics of the situations. I don't feel like this is much of a forum at all for what is (or isn't) happening for me romantically.
But, at the same time, I can honestly explore how any of these things are affecting me. I talk about what I'm not sure of, what I am learning. I can post about what Christmas really means to me right after I post about listening to an old AC/DC tune; I can put on pictures or words, be funny or serious, self-absorbed or thinking about things much bigger than me.
It makes me happy to be able to have this venue to write, think, and explore. And I deeply appreciate you being willing to join me in it; those of you who subscribe or check in regularly to read, and those of you who click on that little "comment" button. Thanks.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
The Holy Season
It's interesting - as we enter the Christmas season I'm always faced with the same realization: it just doesn't feel like a spiritual time to me.
I'm not sure what it is... maybe the fact that it seems to be a pagan festival co-opted by the church. Maybe it's because we have no idea of the actual day of Jesus' birth, so celebrating on that particular one seems a bit odd. But I think that most of it is that I can't help but to compare it to Easter.
At Easter, Christ chose to give up his life. And, more significantly than that, he chose to become sin for us. I don't think most of us can begin to comprehend giving up our life for someone else, but we do know that it's something that some people choose to do. They do it because they love their children, or love their country, or just believe that if they see someone in need and can meet it, they must, regardless of how it may put their own lives at risk.
But I believe that the horror and utter, unimaginable gulf between a perfect God and the sin that he was faced with was like nothing that we can begin to understand. We don't have an equivalent; we can't comprehend what Christ became willing to take on. We can't even come close.
I guess it's in those terms that I think of Christmas. The thought of God becoming man is amazing, and beautiful, and worthy of celebration. But the idea of him dying for man is much more. So if we're sitting together at a Christmas service, singing about joy, and I look somewhat less than joyful, it's not just the carols: I've skipped ahead to where the story gets serious. It's good and it's beautiful and perfect. But it's heavy.
I'm not sure what it is... maybe the fact that it seems to be a pagan festival co-opted by the church. Maybe it's because we have no idea of the actual day of Jesus' birth, so celebrating on that particular one seems a bit odd. But I think that most of it is that I can't help but to compare it to Easter.
At Easter, Christ chose to give up his life. And, more significantly than that, he chose to become sin for us. I don't think most of us can begin to comprehend giving up our life for someone else, but we do know that it's something that some people choose to do. They do it because they love their children, or love their country, or just believe that if they see someone in need and can meet it, they must, regardless of how it may put their own lives at risk.
But I believe that the horror and utter, unimaginable gulf between a perfect God and the sin that he was faced with was like nothing that we can begin to understand. We don't have an equivalent; we can't comprehend what Christ became willing to take on. We can't even come close.
I guess it's in those terms that I think of Christmas. The thought of God becoming man is amazing, and beautiful, and worthy of celebration. But the idea of him dying for man is much more. So if we're sitting together at a Christmas service, singing about joy, and I look somewhat less than joyful, it's not just the carols: I've skipped ahead to where the story gets serious. It's good and it's beautiful and perfect. But it's heavy.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Back In Black
So I was listening to a little AC/DC while walking to work today. It's not my usual thing, but I do enjoy them on occasion.
I've talked before about how different songs are good for walking. Well, those of you who know me know that aggressive is probably not the first word you would use to describe me. I get "intense" sometimes (almost as often as I get "laid-back", oddly enough), but I don't think I have ever been called aggressive. But when this song comes on... man, stay out of my way. It's a good, good tune to strut to, and makes me feel rather unstoppable.
And I've been thinking, too, about black shirts. I have a couple that I really love, beside the standard mass of black concert tees and the fitted black tees that are de rigeur under a sweater or jacket most days. Both collared and long-sleeved, one is a fairly traditional dress shirt, the other is more synthetic-y but still good... open collar and it just drapes really, really well. I think I have gotten more compliments in those two shirts than I have in any others I own.
Well, when I wear those shirts, I also feel pretty unbeatable. When I go into a meeting wearing black, there is no question which way it's going to go. It's not even a matter of time - I'm ready to drive, and we're going to go. Now.
It led me to wonder... what would happen if I tried, at some point, to wear the black shirt while actually listening to Back In Black? I can see it leading to trouble... or getting me elected president of something. Could easily go either way.... I may have to give that a shot.
I've talked before about how different songs are good for walking. Well, those of you who know me know that aggressive is probably not the first word you would use to describe me. I get "intense" sometimes (almost as often as I get "laid-back", oddly enough), but I don't think I have ever been called aggressive. But when this song comes on... man, stay out of my way. It's a good, good tune to strut to, and makes me feel rather unstoppable.
And I've been thinking, too, about black shirts. I have a couple that I really love, beside the standard mass of black concert tees and the fitted black tees that are de rigeur under a sweater or jacket most days. Both collared and long-sleeved, one is a fairly traditional dress shirt, the other is more synthetic-y but still good... open collar and it just drapes really, really well. I think I have gotten more compliments in those two shirts than I have in any others I own.
Well, when I wear those shirts, I also feel pretty unbeatable. When I go into a meeting wearing black, there is no question which way it's going to go. It's not even a matter of time - I'm ready to drive, and we're going to go. Now.
It led me to wonder... what would happen if I tried, at some point, to wear the black shirt while actually listening to Back In Black? I can see it leading to trouble... or getting me elected president of something. Could easily go either way.... I may have to give that a shot.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Hooray
When I got home tonight, I did some dishes.
Usually, this is not a reason to celebrate.
But tonight was a good dishes night because I live alone, which is, oddly enough, also not always a reason to jump up and down. But the good thing about living alone and doing dishes is that you can put your mp3 player on, close the door to the kitchen and know that not even the neighbours can hear you sing.
So I put my mp3 player on, closed the door, and sang.
I sang lead. I switched over to harmony and back - mid-phrase - as the urge took me. I sang low, I sang high. I sometimes sang almost high enough. And it was all good.
And here's the thing - not only was it much, much funner than the regular kind of dishes-doing, but my range is getting better. Except for the top couple of notes where she goes into her head voice, I can comfortably sing all of Natalie Imbrouglia's "Counting Down The Days". That's pretty cool.
And my dishes are clean, which is also cool. It's going to be a good night.
Usually, this is not a reason to celebrate.
But tonight was a good dishes night because I live alone, which is, oddly enough, also not always a reason to jump up and down. But the good thing about living alone and doing dishes is that you can put your mp3 player on, close the door to the kitchen and know that not even the neighbours can hear you sing.
So I put my mp3 player on, closed the door, and sang.
I sang lead. I switched over to harmony and back - mid-phrase - as the urge took me. I sang low, I sang high. I sometimes sang almost high enough. And it was all good.
And here's the thing - not only was it much, much funner than the regular kind of dishes-doing, but my range is getting better. Except for the top couple of notes where she goes into her head voice, I can comfortably sing all of Natalie Imbrouglia's "Counting Down The Days". That's pretty cool.
And my dishes are clean, which is also cool. It's going to be a good night.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Blue Rodeo
While we're on the Canadian music kick (am I ever really off it?), I'd like to quote a classic Blue Rodeo tune:
Well, except for the "together" part being a bit spotty, that seems to sum up my life. I get lost a lot.
The little chick and I went to Germany to visit friends this weekend. It was a wonderful visit, great to see them - it had been more than a year and a lot has gone on in all our lives since then - and TLC was very, very well-behaved in the car.
Until we were on the way back.
As we drove, I could see this mist rolling over the hills in the distance. It was amazing. And it was one of those things that I thought, you know, the pictures will never look like that looks. But then I figured, hey... I'm here, it's beautiful, it doesn't look too far from the highway, and the little chick is in good spirits. So, I pulled off towards a little town called Estaveyer du Lac and started chasing the light.
Well, in the end it was tough to get a good spot... there were trees at most of the good vantage points, and between having to find a place I could drive to and park at (or near), as well as make sure TLC was happy and safe (wandering along the side of the highway is okay if it's just me... different rules when she's along...), I'm not sure if I got the shots I wanted.
But I did learn an important lesson: looking for a way to get good sunset pics means two things:
So, between the fact that I was driving all over trying to find the perfect shot, the roads in the Swiss countryside are anything but orderly and the signage is... well, let's say of limited use (great if you happen to want to go to one of the towns on the sign... completely useless if you're trying to find a specific road), the little chick and I spent a bit of extra time driving around.
And there was one point where, after I turned around, she actually said, "No, Daddy, not this way." She's not even three years old. I don't know if she actually had a better feeling than I did of where the highway was (unfortunately, not out of the realm of possibility) or if she was just tired of her car seat, but it kind of freaked me out. Eventually, she did just get tired of sitting, not being able to reach her toys... so I did what a man should always do when faced with an unhappy, frustrated woman: I gave her some food and rubbed her feet until she was happy again.
Anyways, we're home now... safe and happy after an absolutely wonderful weekend. Lost, maybe; but, at least, lost together.
And, if we're lost... then we are lost together
Well, except for the "together" part being a bit spotty, that seems to sum up my life. I get lost a lot.
The little chick and I went to Germany to visit friends this weekend. It was a wonderful visit, great to see them - it had been more than a year and a lot has gone on in all our lives since then - and TLC was very, very well-behaved in the car.
Until we were on the way back.
As we drove, I could see this mist rolling over the hills in the distance. It was amazing. And it was one of those things that I thought, you know, the pictures will never look like that looks. But then I figured, hey... I'm here, it's beautiful, it doesn't look too far from the highway, and the little chick is in good spirits. So, I pulled off towards a little town called Estaveyer du Lac and started chasing the light.
Well, in the end it was tough to get a good spot... there were trees at most of the good vantage points, and between having to find a place I could drive to and park at (or near), as well as make sure TLC was happy and safe (wandering along the side of the highway is okay if it's just me... different rules when she's along...), I'm not sure if I got the shots I wanted.
But I did learn an important lesson: looking for a way to get good sunset pics means two things:
- Time is not on your side - if that sun is going down, you better already be where you need to be
- Finding your way somewhere during sunset means finding your way back in the dark
So, between the fact that I was driving all over trying to find the perfect shot, the roads in the Swiss countryside are anything but orderly and the signage is... well, let's say of limited use (great if you happen to want to go to one of the towns on the sign... completely useless if you're trying to find a specific road), the little chick and I spent a bit of extra time driving around.
And there was one point where, after I turned around, she actually said, "No, Daddy, not this way." She's not even three years old. I don't know if she actually had a better feeling than I did of where the highway was (unfortunately, not out of the realm of possibility) or if she was just tired of her car seat, but it kind of freaked me out. Eventually, she did just get tired of sitting, not being able to reach her toys... so I did what a man should always do when faced with an unhappy, frustrated woman: I gave her some food and rubbed her feet until she was happy again.
Anyways, we're home now... safe and happy after an absolutely wonderful weekend. Lost, maybe; but, at least, lost together.
Friday, November 23, 2007
I'm A Soul Man
[EDIT] Version 2 is online. Same link, much better arrangement, I think.
Okay, my music collection reads like a stereotypical white-boy playlist: a lot of rock, some metal (for nostalgic reasons only, really), and a bunch of country and bluegrass (note to self: don't invite Ozzie friends and Rascal Flatts friends over on the same evening, again). The only thing I'm missing is Ice-T. Yeah, it's kind of sad, and I know it.
But I learned this week that the coolest Canadian band of all time (with The Hip falling in a close second place), The Philosopher Kings, have a new album. Okay, maybe not new - it's from 2006, but it's one that I didn't know about and haven't gotten yet. So, it's new. That's exciting.
They are fantastic. I've never heard anyone else mix jazz, pop, soul, and funk like they do. And those boys can play... oh, it just about makes me cry. And their music has soul just oozing out. Very, very cool. So, to celebrate, I wanted to sing with them.
Now, this isn't my usual procedure. Usually, if I decide to doctor a track and add some vocals, it's because I've listened to it and thought that something was missing. There isn't much missing on their stuff, and they use a lot of interesting chords that are so, so cool to listen to, but don't always invite a lot of additional vocals. Anyways, I decided to take a song I love - Lay My Body Down - and see what I could do with it. If you're going to buy one of their albums, I prefer this one, which is self-titled, to their second, Famous, Rich, and Beautiful, even though that's one of the best album titles of all time, as far as I'm concerned.
It's a bit different than any of the other stuff I've done... not much twang here. In fact, it's almost all falsetto. This is the first mix, and since doing it last night and listening to it on the train this morning I've already heard a couple things I'll change and a line or two I'll just take out, but I figured I'd give you the link and if you're interested you can check it out. Oh, and there were already some BGV's on the chorus, so that's not all me.
Oh, and for those of you who know him, I think my voice kind of came out sounding like Charlie Peacock. Could do worse, I guess.
Hope you like it. You can download it here.
Okay, my music collection reads like a stereotypical white-boy playlist: a lot of rock, some metal (for nostalgic reasons only, really), and a bunch of country and bluegrass (note to self: don't invite Ozzie friends and Rascal Flatts friends over on the same evening, again). The only thing I'm missing is Ice-T. Yeah, it's kind of sad, and I know it.
But I learned this week that the coolest Canadian band of all time (with The Hip falling in a close second place), The Philosopher Kings, have a new album. Okay, maybe not new - it's from 2006, but it's one that I didn't know about and haven't gotten yet. So, it's new. That's exciting.
They are fantastic. I've never heard anyone else mix jazz, pop, soul, and funk like they do. And those boys can play... oh, it just about makes me cry. And their music has soul just oozing out. Very, very cool. So, to celebrate, I wanted to sing with them.
Now, this isn't my usual procedure. Usually, if I decide to doctor a track and add some vocals, it's because I've listened to it and thought that something was missing. There isn't much missing on their stuff, and they use a lot of interesting chords that are so, so cool to listen to, but don't always invite a lot of additional vocals. Anyways, I decided to take a song I love - Lay My Body Down - and see what I could do with it. If you're going to buy one of their albums, I prefer this one, which is self-titled, to their second, Famous, Rich, and Beautiful, even though that's one of the best album titles of all time, as far as I'm concerned.
It's a bit different than any of the other stuff I've done... not much twang here. In fact, it's almost all falsetto. This is the first mix, and since doing it last night and listening to it on the train this morning I've already heard a couple things I'll change and a line or two I'll just take out, but I figured I'd give you the link and if you're interested you can check it out. Oh, and there were already some BGV's on the chorus, so that's not all me.
Oh, and for those of you who know him, I think my voice kind of came out sounding like Charlie Peacock. Could do worse, I guess.
Hope you like it. You can download it here.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Speakerphone
It is okay to use speakerphone when multiple people need to be involved in the same conversation, and you're not in an office where they can simply all be conferenced in on their own handsets.
It's not okay to:
1. Keep trying a number that's busy
2. Use it just because you're too lazy to actually reach down and pick up the phone
3. Pretend that the dialing sound is like music, and everyone will be happier if they can hear it
4. Share a fabulous "your call is very important to us..." on-hold message with the entire office
This is what triggers workplace violence; I just don't want to be the guy who illustrates the point.
It's not okay to:
1. Keep trying a number that's busy
2. Use it just because you're too lazy to actually reach down and pick up the phone
3. Pretend that the dialing sound is like music, and everyone will be happier if they can hear it
4. Share a fabulous "your call is very important to us..." on-hold message with the entire office
This is what triggers workplace violence; I just don't want to be the guy who illustrates the point.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
The Highest Compliment
... in the little chick's arsenal is, "nice". It may not sound like much, but when she says "Awwww, nice Daddy..." it melts my heart. It's not a descriptor I would particularly welcome from the world at large, but from her... it's different.
We had a couple wonderful daddy-daughter-days this weekend. A lot of playing and singing, a lot of laughing, but my favorite part was a lot of cuddling.
One of the things I'm enjoying about this age is that she rarely stalls when I'm putting her to bed, and when she does, it's pretty transparent. "Go out there? Play with toys?". She hasn't yet decided to use the "I'm thirsty" weapon, and I'm glad.
So last night, when she told me she was still hungry, I was happy to get her a granola bar just to fill in any cracks left by dinner. And, while she seemed to enjoy the granola bar, I don't think it's what she really wanted. She cuddled in on my lap, and, as she ate, turned her head right into my shoulder and put her arm - granola bar still in tow - around me. And she just stayed there. And I don't know how it may impact her sleeping habits, long-term, but making my daughter feel beyond any doubt that she is loved and treasured is a whole lot more important to me than getting her to bed 15 minutes sooner. So I cuddled her, and it was good for both of us.
It made me wonder - what is it in that physical proximity that is so powerful, that she seeks it out and longs for it and that I want so deeply to give it to her? And how is it that, in the love I have for her, and she has for me, holding and being held can be so similar and yet so different from how it is in romantic love? I don't understand it... but I know it's important. And so does she - I can tell, that's part of what "nice Daddy" means.
We had a couple wonderful daddy-daughter-days this weekend. A lot of playing and singing, a lot of laughing, but my favorite part was a lot of cuddling.
One of the things I'm enjoying about this age is that she rarely stalls when I'm putting her to bed, and when she does, it's pretty transparent. "Go out there? Play with toys?". She hasn't yet decided to use the "I'm thirsty" weapon, and I'm glad.
So last night, when she told me she was still hungry, I was happy to get her a granola bar just to fill in any cracks left by dinner. And, while she seemed to enjoy the granola bar, I don't think it's what she really wanted. She cuddled in on my lap, and, as she ate, turned her head right into my shoulder and put her arm - granola bar still in tow - around me. And she just stayed there. And I don't know how it may impact her sleeping habits, long-term, but making my daughter feel beyond any doubt that she is loved and treasured is a whole lot more important to me than getting her to bed 15 minutes sooner. So I cuddled her, and it was good for both of us.
It made me wonder - what is it in that physical proximity that is so powerful, that she seeks it out and longs for it and that I want so deeply to give it to her? And how is it that, in the love I have for her, and she has for me, holding and being held can be so similar and yet so different from how it is in romantic love? I don't understand it... but I know it's important. And so does she - I can tell, that's part of what "nice Daddy" means.
Friday, November 16, 2007
The Wedding, Part II
Well, I had a chance to show the wedding pictures I took to the bride and groom this week.
They liked them. That makes me happy.
I was reflecting over the last couple of days about the joy I feel in creating, but how it is amplified so much when I can share it. It's funny - I used to think I was in introvert; I used to feel pretty content living a very internal life. But I've discovered that even a very solitary kind of experience - taking pictures of wildflowers at dawn in a deserted park - is not truly solitary for me.
I love the sight that inspires me to try and capture that beauty in the first place, even when my eyes are the only ones that see it. I love the activity of waiting for the light, finding the angle, getting the focus, and making the shot. I love the feeling that comes when I look at it and know that, somehow, what I have is more than a reproduction of what touched me, but that the beauty is truly there, and that, sometimes, it's even magnified in the act of being captured.
But what I love the most is sharing it. I love it when a picture or song or piece of writing moves someone... I want to be a creator, but not just a creator. I want to be a participant in people's lives, and whether it is through a talk, a meal, or a piece of art, that's what I'm really longing for.
And sometimes I'm lucky enough to get it.
They liked them. That makes me happy.
I was reflecting over the last couple of days about the joy I feel in creating, but how it is amplified so much when I can share it. It's funny - I used to think I was in introvert; I used to feel pretty content living a very internal life. But I've discovered that even a very solitary kind of experience - taking pictures of wildflowers at dawn in a deserted park - is not truly solitary for me.
I love the sight that inspires me to try and capture that beauty in the first place, even when my eyes are the only ones that see it. I love the activity of waiting for the light, finding the angle, getting the focus, and making the shot. I love the feeling that comes when I look at it and know that, somehow, what I have is more than a reproduction of what touched me, but that the beauty is truly there, and that, sometimes, it's even magnified in the act of being captured.
But what I love the most is sharing it. I love it when a picture or song or piece of writing moves someone... I want to be a creator, but not just a creator. I want to be a participant in people's lives, and whether it is through a talk, a meal, or a piece of art, that's what I'm really longing for.
And sometimes I'm lucky enough to get it.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Infiltrated
I've been infiltrated.
I don't know if Apple specifically planned it that way, but a covert agent has been working on me, trying to get me to buy an iPod.
And it almost worked.
I got to thinking - 160 GB would be pretty cool - I could put all my music on it at a pretty high bit-rate. And even some movies. And the new ones have a battery life that a lot of people are pegging at 40+ hours on a charge for music. And there are programs other than iTunes that you can use now to manage the music you play... meaning you can actually move it around however you want, without Apple telling you which computers you're allowed to use to listen to it.
And then I started to read.
It turns out that Apple has changed a few things with the new ones (called iPod Classic, or sixth generation/6G). They have a new algorithm that they're using for the digital/analog conversion. And the hardware has changed, too - the DAC is coming from another manufacturer. And in the hi-fi community, people are not happy.
Turns out the sound is, to a critical listener, nowhere near as good as it was for previous incarnations - less natural, less punchy and vibrant, with harmonic overtones missing. Which is all I need to know for now, until either a firmware fix or a version with better hardware (or both) is released.
Whew.
Close call.
I don't know if Apple specifically planned it that way, but a covert agent has been working on me, trying to get me to buy an iPod.
And it almost worked.
I got to thinking - 160 GB would be pretty cool - I could put all my music on it at a pretty high bit-rate. And even some movies. And the new ones have a battery life that a lot of people are pegging at 40+ hours on a charge for music. And there are programs other than iTunes that you can use now to manage the music you play... meaning you can actually move it around however you want, without Apple telling you which computers you're allowed to use to listen to it.
And then I started to read.
It turns out that Apple has changed a few things with the new ones (called iPod Classic, or sixth generation/6G). They have a new algorithm that they're using for the digital/analog conversion. And the hardware has changed, too - the DAC is coming from another manufacturer. And in the hi-fi community, people are not happy.
Turns out the sound is, to a critical listener, nowhere near as good as it was for previous incarnations - less natural, less punchy and vibrant, with harmonic overtones missing. Which is all I need to know for now, until either a firmware fix or a version with better hardware (or both) is released.
Whew.
Close call.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Would You Like Fries With That?
I went for fondue with a couple of colleagues today. As we were eating, I decided that it would probably be pretty tasty to chop up some jalapeños and spice things up a bit.
Other things that I haven't tried or seen that might be good in fondue:
1. Beer
2. BBQ sauce
3. Bacon Bits
4. Fresh dill
5. Apple sauce
Any other ideas?
Other things that I haven't tried or seen that might be good in fondue:
1. Beer
2. BBQ sauce
3. Bacon Bits
4. Fresh dill
5. Apple sauce
Any other ideas?
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Cover Me
This morning I was playing with the little chick - we were playing catch with a balloon. She came over and bonked me on the head with it, so I tumbled over onto the floor. She started giggling and came over and jumped on me, giving me a big hug. "Oooohhhh" she said in a voice that I can't hope to capture in writing, "Daddy-daughter day!" (that's what we call it) and just snuggled right in.
After a minute, she got back to her feet and looked a little concerned... then walked over to her little pink chair where Mrs Cow (who is almost the same size as she is) lives. She pulled her out of the chair and brought her over to me; lifting my head, she pushed Mrs Cow underneath. "Daddy needs pillow," she explained. I'm not sure how it was for Mrs Cow, but it was a whole lot more comfy for me.
Then she realized something was still missing - she ran off to where all her supplies are for her baby, and came back with a blanket... a blanket that is more symbolic than functional, even for her baby: it's about one foot square. "For Daddy's feet," she said. She stood by my feet and considered. Then, straddling my legs, she decided against the feet and waddled up until she was at my belly, and spread the blanket out over me. "Now," she said, sitting herself in her pink chair next to me, where she could keep an eye on my condition, "close eyes and go to sleep."
Well, the sleep only lasted about 15 seconds before it was time to play again, but it was wonderful to see her learning to stop and get outside of herself, to think about what I (or anyone) might need, and to want to care for those needs. That's the kind of little chick I want to raise.
I'm a pretty happy guy.
After a minute, she got back to her feet and looked a little concerned... then walked over to her little pink chair where Mrs Cow (who is almost the same size as she is) lives. She pulled her out of the chair and brought her over to me; lifting my head, she pushed Mrs Cow underneath. "Daddy needs pillow," she explained. I'm not sure how it was for Mrs Cow, but it was a whole lot more comfy for me.
Then she realized something was still missing - she ran off to where all her supplies are for her baby, and came back with a blanket... a blanket that is more symbolic than functional, even for her baby: it's about one foot square. "For Daddy's feet," she said. She stood by my feet and considered. Then, straddling my legs, she decided against the feet and waddled up until she was at my belly, and spread the blanket out over me. "Now," she said, sitting herself in her pink chair next to me, where she could keep an eye on my condition, "close eyes and go to sleep."
Well, the sleep only lasted about 15 seconds before it was time to play again, but it was wonderful to see her learning to stop and get outside of herself, to think about what I (or anyone) might need, and to want to care for those needs. That's the kind of little chick I want to raise.
I'm a pretty happy guy.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
I Am A Political Activist
Okay, I'm not really. But I did have my first picture published, in an AIDS-awareness advent calendar put out by the Ecumenical Advocacy Alliance.
You can see it here.
So, I wasn't completely aware that it was an AIDS-related calendar when I agreed to let them use the picture. Actually, I was just kind of stoked that someone had noticed and liked it enough to want to publish it. I guess, though, that it's good that it's being used to draw attention to something important.
I use the word "publish" loosely, in the sense that someone is putting my picture on paper and making it available... the monetary aspects that one may associate with publication don't really come into play, but I do know that the creative designer makes a killer raspberry trifle, and I'm hoping that will become part of the equation at some point.
Anyways, I'm pretty excited about December, now: especially the 4th. Hooray!
You can see it here.
So, I wasn't completely aware that it was an AIDS-related calendar when I agreed to let them use the picture. Actually, I was just kind of stoked that someone had noticed and liked it enough to want to publish it. I guess, though, that it's good that it's being used to draw attention to something important.
I use the word "publish" loosely, in the sense that someone is putting my picture on paper and making it available... the monetary aspects that one may associate with publication don't really come into play, but I do know that the creative designer makes a killer raspberry trifle, and I'm hoping that will become part of the equation at some point.
Anyways, I'm pretty excited about December, now: especially the 4th. Hooray!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
I Have Something To Say
So why won't they let me say it?
I was at a retreat this weekend with a group from my church, and the speaker started out one of the sessions talking about an idea he had... and how we may have a different perspectives, and he wanted to hear about them.
Only, I don't think he did. Because he started to talk, and then he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.
You know, I don't have a problem with people just doing their thing. But it pisses me off like you wouldn't believe when they say, "let's have a discussion" or, "I'd like to hear your thoughts on this" and then refuse to actually stop and listen. I mean, if you want to get my input, then I'm happy to give it. But if you don't want it, don't ask for it and then just refuse to listen to it.
Please.
I was at a retreat this weekend with a group from my church, and the speaker started out one of the sessions talking about an idea he had... and how we may have a different perspectives, and he wanted to hear about them.
Only, I don't think he did. Because he started to talk, and then he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.
You know, I don't have a problem with people just doing their thing. But it pisses me off like you wouldn't believe when they say, "let's have a discussion" or, "I'd like to hear your thoughts on this" and then refuse to actually stop and listen. I mean, if you want to get my input, then I'm happy to give it. But if you don't want it, don't ask for it and then just refuse to listen to it.
Please.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Faces
Okay, for Lori and anonymous, here are a few more of my favorite shots from the wedding. You can see the full set (not all 400 I took, but the ones I like the best) here.
Not the groom, but a friend of mine, and I like the shot.
I love this one.
One that's actually wedding-ish. The bride.
At the aperitif
The dress.
The bass player. Not Chuck, the MNB bass player, though.
Not the groom, but a friend of mine, and I like the shot.
I love this one.
One that's actually wedding-ish. The bride.
At the aperitif
The dress.
The bass player. Not Chuck, the MNB bass player, though.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Too Bad
It's only Wednesday. Still, they're all over the soundtrack to Starter For Ten and I almost got Nathan to play it for the offertory on Sunday. So, sing along wherever you are...
I don't care if Monday's blue
Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too
Thursday i don't care about you
It's Friday I'm in love
I don't care if Monday's blue
Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too
Thursday i don't care about you
It's Friday I'm in love
Monday you can fall apart
Tuesday Wednesday break my heart
Thursday doesn't even start
It's Friday I'm in love
Saturday, wait
And Sunday always comes too late
But Friday never hesitate...
I don't care if Monday's black
Tuesday Wednesday heart attack
Thursday never looking back
It's Friday I'm in love
Monday you can hold your head
Tuesday Wednesday stay in bed
Or Thursday watch the walls instead
It's Friday I'm in love
Saturday, wait
And Sunday always comes too late
But Friday never hesitate...
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Our Father
I've been thinking lately about God as our Father. I'm teaching at one of our church groups next week, and this has been on my mind, so that's what I'll talk about.
But you get a sneak preview while I find my way through.
The first thing I think of is that it's such a deep, rich analogy.
The second is, what if it's not an analogy?
Something C.S. Lewis talks about a lot (and Aristotle before him, but with different conclusions) is the way that the temporal often reflects the eternal... not because what we can't see right now is a shadow of what we can, but because what we have now is a shadow of what is to be.
I guess a good example of this is our desire to belong - to be part of an ethnic group, a nationality, a political party, a club, a church, or even a family. We want to be known, to be loved, to belong, and those are all good and natural longings. But we don't find their fulfillment in the here and now - to be deeply entrenched in the republican/demorcatic/green/whatever-Nader-is party will never begin to approach the kind of complete acceptance and "home" of being known and loved by our Creator. The means we have at our disposal now are temporary and inadequate, but the desire itself is much deeper, more permenant, and truer.
So here's the thing: becoming a father has changed me. What I know of love, of faith, of patience and care and hope are all worlds apart from what I knew before. And my understanding of how God relates to me and I to him has changed in very deep and dramatic ways, too.
But what if what I'm experiencing is not the final reality of what fatherhood is. What if this is the shadow - the analogy - and what my Father is to me is the reality.
What if?
But you get a sneak preview while I find my way through.
The first thing I think of is that it's such a deep, rich analogy.
The second is, what if it's not an analogy?
Something C.S. Lewis talks about a lot (and Aristotle before him, but with different conclusions) is the way that the temporal often reflects the eternal... not because what we can't see right now is a shadow of what we can, but because what we have now is a shadow of what is to be.
I guess a good example of this is our desire to belong - to be part of an ethnic group, a nationality, a political party, a club, a church, or even a family. We want to be known, to be loved, to belong, and those are all good and natural longings. But we don't find their fulfillment in the here and now - to be deeply entrenched in the republican/demorcatic/green/whatever-Nader-is party will never begin to approach the kind of complete acceptance and "home" of being known and loved by our Creator. The means we have at our disposal now are temporary and inadequate, but the desire itself is much deeper, more permenant, and truer.
So here's the thing: becoming a father has changed me. What I know of love, of faith, of patience and care and hope are all worlds apart from what I knew before. And my understanding of how God relates to me and I to him has changed in very deep and dramatic ways, too.
But what if what I'm experiencing is not the final reality of what fatherhood is. What if this is the shadow - the analogy - and what my Father is to me is the reality.
What if?
Friday, October 26, 2007
Humo(u)r
I've realized that I've become afraid to use the "humor" label on my posts. Part of it may be that, in retrospect, I'm ashamed of using the American spelling (no offense, Americans). But I think that most of is that I'm a little concerned someone will get onto my blog and do a search on it.
Then they'll sit back, cross their arms, and read.
Unimpressed.
"I don't see what's so funny about that," they'll say, reaching for some more lemon rind. "Hurrumph."
On the other hand, if they're not expecting anything to be really very clever, even just a little bit of wit can be rather impressive.
So, if you've searched and just found this, I'm sorry. But if you keep digging, you never know what you may find.
Then they'll sit back, cross their arms, and read.
Unimpressed.
"I don't see what's so funny about that," they'll say, reaching for some more lemon rind. "Hurrumph."
On the other hand, if they're not expecting anything to be really very clever, even just a little bit of wit can be rather impressive.
So, if you've searched and just found this, I'm sorry. But if you keep digging, you never know what you may find.
Please Wait
I take a lot of relatively small aircraft - my usual commute to Lugano is on one that seats just over 50 people. As a rule, they let you put larger carry-on stuff outside the plane as you get on.. .then they load it up and unload it for you at the other end.
It's a pretty good deal. You don't have to carry it (or find space) on board, but you also don't have to wait for it at the baggage belt at the other end. But every time we land, they say the same thing, usually in three languages:
"We kindly ask you to wait patiently while your hand-luggage is being unloaded."
Now, I'm glad that they're willing to unload it. Really, I am. And from what I've seen, they do a pretty good job. I haven't heard of them missing any.
But why the announcement? I mean, if the stewardess would just stand there for a minute before opening the door, would people spontaneously rush forward? Would the guys at the front push her into the cockpit so we could figure out how to get that door open and the stairs down, to tear wildly across the tarmac? Or maybe people who had given stuff to the luggage guy at the other end would just not remember, "hey, it felt... heavier, before. Nah, I must have been imagining it..."
I like to talk - any of my friends will tell you. I even like listening. And, with people who are special to me, I can even talk about/listen to a whole lot of more or less nothing, and still be quite happy just to have the time and the contact, especially if snack are involved. But my relationship with the Darwin stewardess is (perhaps regrettably) not exactly in that category.
I wonder if I should say something?
It's a pretty good deal. You don't have to carry it (or find space) on board, but you also don't have to wait for it at the baggage belt at the other end. But every time we land, they say the same thing, usually in three languages:
"We kindly ask you to wait patiently while your hand-luggage is being unloaded."
Now, I'm glad that they're willing to unload it. Really, I am. And from what I've seen, they do a pretty good job. I haven't heard of them missing any.
But why the announcement? I mean, if the stewardess would just stand there for a minute before opening the door, would people spontaneously rush forward? Would the guys at the front push her into the cockpit so we could figure out how to get that door open and the stairs down, to tear wildly across the tarmac? Or maybe people who had given stuff to the luggage guy at the other end would just not remember, "hey, it felt... heavier, before. Nah, I must have been imagining it..."
I like to talk - any of my friends will tell you. I even like listening. And, with people who are special to me, I can even talk about/listen to a whole lot of more or less nothing, and still be quite happy just to have the time and the contact, especially if snack are involved. But my relationship with the Darwin stewardess is (perhaps regrettably) not exactly in that category.
I wonder if I should say something?
Thursday, October 25, 2007
British Nathan
He's back, and it's cool. For never considering myself much of a room-mate kind of guy, I sure like it when Nathan's in town. I drink more tea. I have more good conversations. I get an appreciative audience to show my progressing mix-downs to. The little chick likes to get him to read stories to her. And every once in a while I get to hear him play.
Very nice.
And I can't wait for the weekend. I know it's only Thursday, but I'm ready. I was ready yesterday, in fact.
In other news, I've installed a tea station at our "office" (in the client offices) in Lugano. There is a coffee machine on our floor, but it's one of those ones with terrible instant coffee - absolutely brutal. A kettle, a few cups, the hotel is kind enough to leave tea in the rooms that we can bring with and - voila - instant team spirit. It's cool.
Ummmmm.....
You know when you get to that point in a phone conversation where you don't really want to hang up, but you also don't have anything else to say? That's kind of where I'm at, now.
So, I guess, talk to you later?
Very nice.
And I can't wait for the weekend. I know it's only Thursday, but I'm ready. I was ready yesterday, in fact.
In other news, I've installed a tea station at our "office" (in the client offices) in Lugano. There is a coffee machine on our floor, but it's one of those ones with terrible instant coffee - absolutely brutal. A kettle, a few cups, the hotel is kind enough to leave tea in the rooms that we can bring with and - voila - instant team spirit. It's cool.
Ummmmm.....
You know when you get to that point in a phone conversation where you don't really want to hang up, but you also don't have anything else to say? That's kind of where I'm at, now.
So, I guess, talk to you later?
Monday, October 22, 2007
The Wedding
Well, it was a busy weekend - insanely busy, actually. The little chick and I slept through most of a friend's birthday party on Sunday, even. But I have a full report on the wedding:
The ceremony was 90 minutes. That would seem like a long time, and since it was happening in three languages (not all in three, but it does add up). Here were the highlights:
1. The Bride (Priska) wore a red dress, and it was just stunning. At first, I couldn't believe it, but it really suited her... very dramatic, and with the flower-girls' orange dresses the color was really rich and deep. I loved it.
2. The music - we had a full band, a mix of French and English players, all of whom I have had the pleasure of playing with before, so it was a lot of fun. The acoustic drums were okay in the end. There were two things that made it just wonderful for me. First, Fred, the groom, told me that he loved it, and that he was really moved by the music. Second, I could hear this beautiful little voice from the back of the room after the songs were done... "Daddy?". *sigh*
3. The cortege - or something like that... it's a procession, where everybody drives slow and honks. You guessed it: two of my favorite things. Between having to tear down and pack up my drums, and wanting to get to the reception site early to be ready to shoot, I decided to skip it. Don't worry, everyone said, it's really easy to get to, and really simple to skip around the cortege route and take the highway directly. Yeah, right. John decided to join me, and we made a quick stop for a couple of burgers (music makes you hungry, in case you were wondering), took a good close look at the map, and decided that odds were pretty much certain we were going to get lost if we attempted it. So we turned around, headed back to the church, and found a family still there who was going to be heading up after stopping off at home to get their passports (welcome to Geneva... ceremony in one country, reception in another!). They let us follow them, which was good, because we would have been really, really lost.
4. The great part of the Swedish-style reception. Richard and Dorothy had kind of prepared me for this, but I was not ready for the full extent of it. There were some really fantastic speeches: my old friend Harald did his usual bang-up creative job, as did Mo (but it barely counts, since all Irish people are funny), and Fred's sister who is very much like he is... very tall, very thin, very smart, and very, very dry in the humor department - just brilliant.
5. The other part of the Swedish-style reception. It turns out that, at a Swedish wedding reception, everyone has to participate. Richard figures it's because they're very sentimental (so they usually end up talking about visits to great-aunt Clauthilde's house when they were 6, and other stuff that the rest of us had always wondered about but never thought to really ask about). I figure it's because of all the pickled fish. I mean, it has to take its toll somehow, right? Case in point: one of the couples that came up to "present" was made up of a woman who sang two Abba songs - one because the bride sings, and one because she just likes it. Then the man said that since the groom's sister is a doctor, he would do a skit about the Swedish medical system. He proceeded to mime (yes, mime) a kind of sloppy operation, apparently a parody of how good Swedish doctors - like the aforementioned groom's sister, sitting 8 feet away from him - are at their profession. Has nothing to do with the bride or groom, their marriage, or even weddings in general, and manages to offend the immediate family of the groom. How could that possibly go wrong? Thanks to this, the dance didn't even start until after 1. And that, kids, is past my bedtime, especially after spending the whole day playing, moving drums, taking pictures (see below) and pondering getting woefully, wonderfully lost in the French countryside.
6. The pictures. I took quite a few, and after editing out the dogs, I still have more than 400 usable shots. Here are a few I like...
The ceremony was 90 minutes. That would seem like a long time, and since it was happening in three languages (not all in three, but it does add up). Here were the highlights:
1. The Bride (Priska) wore a red dress, and it was just stunning. At first, I couldn't believe it, but it really suited her... very dramatic, and with the flower-girls' orange dresses the color was really rich and deep. I loved it.
2. The music - we had a full band, a mix of French and English players, all of whom I have had the pleasure of playing with before, so it was a lot of fun. The acoustic drums were okay in the end. There were two things that made it just wonderful for me. First, Fred, the groom, told me that he loved it, and that he was really moved by the music. Second, I could hear this beautiful little voice from the back of the room after the songs were done... "Daddy?". *sigh*
3. The cortege - or something like that... it's a procession, where everybody drives slow and honks. You guessed it: two of my favorite things. Between having to tear down and pack up my drums, and wanting to get to the reception site early to be ready to shoot, I decided to skip it. Don't worry, everyone said, it's really easy to get to, and really simple to skip around the cortege route and take the highway directly. Yeah, right. John decided to join me, and we made a quick stop for a couple of burgers (music makes you hungry, in case you were wondering), took a good close look at the map, and decided that odds were pretty much certain we were going to get lost if we attempted it. So we turned around, headed back to the church, and found a family still there who was going to be heading up after stopping off at home to get their passports (welcome to Geneva... ceremony in one country, reception in another!). They let us follow them, which was good, because we would have been really, really lost.
4. The great part of the Swedish-style reception. Richard and Dorothy had kind of prepared me for this, but I was not ready for the full extent of it. There were some really fantastic speeches: my old friend Harald did his usual bang-up creative job, as did Mo (but it barely counts, since all Irish people are funny), and Fred's sister who is very much like he is... very tall, very thin, very smart, and very, very dry in the humor department - just brilliant.
5. The other part of the Swedish-style reception. It turns out that, at a Swedish wedding reception, everyone has to participate. Richard figures it's because they're very sentimental (so they usually end up talking about visits to great-aunt Clauthilde's house when they were 6, and other stuff that the rest of us had always wondered about but never thought to really ask about). I figure it's because of all the pickled fish. I mean, it has to take its toll somehow, right? Case in point: one of the couples that came up to "present" was made up of a woman who sang two Abba songs - one because the bride sings, and one because she just likes it. Then the man said that since the groom's sister is a doctor, he would do a skit about the Swedish medical system. He proceeded to mime (yes, mime) a kind of sloppy operation, apparently a parody of how good Swedish doctors - like the aforementioned groom's sister, sitting 8 feet away from him - are at their profession. Has nothing to do with the bride or groom, their marriage, or even weddings in general, and manages to offend the immediate family of the groom. How could that possibly go wrong? Thanks to this, the dance didn't even start until after 1. And that, kids, is past my bedtime, especially after spending the whole day playing, moving drums, taking pictures (see below) and pondering getting woefully, wonderfully lost in the French countryside.
6. The pictures. I took quite a few, and after editing out the dogs, I still have more than 400 usable shots. Here are a few I like...
Friday, October 19, 2007
Sound Check
So we had the sound check tonight for the wedding tomorrow. I carted my drums up out of the basement (for those who haven't experienced it, drums + stairs = bad combination), loaded everything into the car, got it over to the church, and unloaded and started setting up.
The sound guy came over and looked at me. "Do you have electronic drums?" he asked.
"Uhhh, yeah..."
He looked at my kit. A rather solid, maple, decidedly acoustic drum set. I decided to elaborate:
"These aren't them."
He looked really, really unimpressed. "I was told you had electronic drums. I don't have mics for these."
"Well," I said, "I do have electronic drums. But nobody asked me to bring them. So I'm playing these. Besides, the room isn't that large, I doubt we're going to need mics on the drums."
He continued to look unimpressed. "How long would it take you to get them?" he asked.
"You mean, on top of the hour and a half it's already taken me to get these? I guess about an hour and a half more if traffic cooperates. More like two and a half after I get these all back and put away."
I could see him calculating: bedtime - sound he wanted / what he had been told was going to happen (this is Switzerland, after all) * how much he actually really cared = "okay, don't bother then"
So I didn't. I'm going to go tomorrow and play my acoustic drums. And I will have a good attitude. And I'll enjoy the wedding. And I'll be nice to the sound guy, cause he was probably just feeling stressed out.
But, for now, I'm going to bed. Happy weekend, all.
The sound guy came over and looked at me. "Do you have electronic drums?" he asked.
"Uhhh, yeah..."
He looked at my kit. A rather solid, maple, decidedly acoustic drum set. I decided to elaborate:
"These aren't them."
He looked really, really unimpressed. "I was told you had electronic drums. I don't have mics for these."
"Well," I said, "I do have electronic drums. But nobody asked me to bring them. So I'm playing these. Besides, the room isn't that large, I doubt we're going to need mics on the drums."
He continued to look unimpressed. "How long would it take you to get them?" he asked.
"You mean, on top of the hour and a half it's already taken me to get these? I guess about an hour and a half more if traffic cooperates. More like two and a half after I get these all back and put away."
I could see him calculating: bedtime - sound he wanted / what he had been told was going to happen (this is Switzerland, after all) * how much he actually really cared = "okay, don't bother then"
So I didn't. I'm going to go tomorrow and play my acoustic drums. And I will have a good attitude. And I'll enjoy the wedding. And I'll be nice to the sound guy, cause he was probably just feeling stressed out.
But, for now, I'm going to bed. Happy weekend, all.
I Should Have Known
As I was taking off yesterday with a colleague, we both noticed the plan dip a bit on take-off... a bit more than usual. We looked at each other. "I didn't feel any wind..." I said. And as we continued to climb, it got worse - sudden-ish turns, overcorrections.... some of it felt like wind, but some of what felt like the result of a rookie pilot.
When we landed and walked down onto the tarmac after saying good-bye to the stewardess and pilot, she started to laugh. I didn't get it, but I hadn't really engaged my brain to get from my seat out of the plane... it was just business as usual.
"Didn't you see?" she said.
"Uhhhh......"
"The pilot. It was a woman... now it all makes sense!"
Well... she said it. But I didn't argue.
When we landed and walked down onto the tarmac after saying good-bye to the stewardess and pilot, she started to laugh. I didn't get it, but I hadn't really engaged my brain to get from my seat out of the plane... it was just business as usual.
"Didn't you see?" she said.
"Uhhhh......"
"The pilot. It was a woman... now it all makes sense!"
Well... she said it. But I didn't argue.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
It Doesn't Mean I'm Fussy
I cleaned out my bag this morning - the one I carry my PC in and (when I'm traveling for work) more or less everything else, too. It wasn't that messy... I had a couple old chocolates in the bottom, a few pieces of paper I don't need any more, and some stuff to put into different pockets, but it felt good to get it organized. Really good, actually. And I realized that the amount of pleasure I derive from organizing something insignificant like that is completely disproportionate to either the amount of effort required or the real-life impact of the activity.
That's pretty cool. It's like some kind of vending machine where you put in a buck and it spits out three.
Plus, now I know how to plan my weekend.
That's pretty cool. It's like some kind of vending machine where you put in a buck and it spits out three.
Plus, now I know how to plan my weekend.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
I'm Still Here, Wearing A Suit
Sorry for the big gap. I've been pretty busy, had guests, been a little sick, and looking after a little chick who has been more sick. I've been thinking about you, but haven't been writing.
I was in a meeting all day today with clients from the bank I'm working at, people from our project, and people from our R&D department. Our people - who usually dress casually for work at our own offices but dress up to go to the clients - brought the dress code up a few notches for the meeting.
The bank people, who are always in suits at their own office, dressed casually to come see us.
And yeah, I know: I talk a lot about clothes for a straight man. I've learned to accept it. But I think that next time, somebody really should coordinate this. I mean, is this the kind of meeting that requires a tie or isn't it? And how is it that we can't even agree on the "when I'm at my office I'll wear jeans and when I come to yours I'll dress up" thing? Aren't there rules about this somewhere?
And here's the other thing I think about suits in general: unless there are some of us who don't feel competent in choosing a non-uniform set of clothing in the morning, no one is going to feel more comfortable working in one than out of one. Yet we all wear them. Why? We wear them to impress them. They wear them to impress us. In the end, no one is really that impressed. Except my dry-cleaner.
I think suits should be saved for nice dinners; wearing them should be a special occasion. Work is everyday. It's normal. Why not go ahead and dress like it is? Otherwise, we men have nowhere to look to take it up a step other than a tuxedo.
And that's a pretty big step.
I was in a meeting all day today with clients from the bank I'm working at, people from our project, and people from our R&D department. Our people - who usually dress casually for work at our own offices but dress up to go to the clients - brought the dress code up a few notches for the meeting.
The bank people, who are always in suits at their own office, dressed casually to come see us.
And yeah, I know: I talk a lot about clothes for a straight man. I've learned to accept it. But I think that next time, somebody really should coordinate this. I mean, is this the kind of meeting that requires a tie or isn't it? And how is it that we can't even agree on the "when I'm at my office I'll wear jeans and when I come to yours I'll dress up" thing? Aren't there rules about this somewhere?
And here's the other thing I think about suits in general: unless there are some of us who don't feel competent in choosing a non-uniform set of clothing in the morning, no one is going to feel more comfortable working in one than out of one. Yet we all wear them. Why? We wear them to impress them. They wear them to impress us. In the end, no one is really that impressed. Except my dry-cleaner.
I think suits should be saved for nice dinners; wearing them should be a special occasion. Work is everyday. It's normal. Why not go ahead and dress like it is? Otherwise, we men have nowhere to look to take it up a step other than a tuxedo.
And that's a pretty big step.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Blades Of Glory
Some say it sucks. I say it has Will Farrell.
Hector: "Hey, Jimmy"
Jimmy: "Hector? What are you doing here? You know I have a restraining order against you..."
Hector [laughing nervously]: "Oh that thing? [pauses]... You look great, Jimmy. You look amazing, and your hair rocks..."
Jimmy: "Thanks"
Hector: "You look so good... oh my gosh. Do you look at yourself? I totally want to cut off your skin and wear it to my birthday... it's coming up"
Jimmy: "Yeah, listen, it's good to see you Hector, but I'm really busy right now"
Hector: "I'm sorry, I'll cut to the chase. You've got to start skating again, Jimmy."
Jimmy: "What?"
Hector: "It's embarrassing stalking a has-been, you know what I mean? Look, I almost gave up on you. I started stalking that Ukrainian skater, you know, the one that looks like Elvis? I moved to the Ukraine. It was cold, and everyone had guns and smelled like soup."
Jimmy: "I sympathize with you Hector, I really do, but there's nothing I can do. I'm banned for life...."
You should see it. Preferably with me.
Hector: "Hey, Jimmy"
Jimmy: "Hector? What are you doing here? You know I have a restraining order against you..."
Hector [laughing nervously]: "Oh that thing? [pauses]... You look great, Jimmy. You look amazing, and your hair rocks..."
Jimmy: "Thanks"
Hector: "You look so good... oh my gosh. Do you look at yourself? I totally want to cut off your skin and wear it to my birthday... it's coming up"
Jimmy: "Yeah, listen, it's good to see you Hector, but I'm really busy right now"
Hector: "I'm sorry, I'll cut to the chase. You've got to start skating again, Jimmy."
Jimmy: "What?"
Hector: "It's embarrassing stalking a has-been, you know what I mean? Look, I almost gave up on you. I started stalking that Ukrainian skater, you know, the one that looks like Elvis? I moved to the Ukraine. It was cold, and everyone had guns and smelled like soup."
Jimmy: "I sympathize with you Hector, I really do, but there's nothing I can do. I'm banned for life...."
You should see it. Preferably with me.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Ciao, Bello
I had a guy I work with in the bank pass me in the hall today. He winked and gave me the thumbs-up.
I love Italians.
I love Italians.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
What A Great Weekend
The little chick and I went to a retreat with about 130 other people from our church this weekend, and it was fantastic. Amazing weather... eating comfortably in a short-sleeved shirt on a terrace in the mountains is pretty good for Switzerland in October. I got some good pictures, I think, but they are of the amazing fall colors, and so I'm pretty sure that none of them are going to really approach what it was that was forcing me to pull into every single lay-by to pull out my camera. Still, I'll get them up soon and you can take them for what they are.
Mostly, though, it was amazing just to know, once again, what a wonderful "family" I have here - so many people with nothing but love for me. It's amazing, and I hope I never forget.
Mostly, though, it was amazing just to know, once again, what a wonderful "family" I have here - so many people with nothing but love for me. It's amazing, and I hope I never forget.
Friday, October 5, 2007
The Set List
For Troy.
Set 1
Set 2
Set 3
Set 1
- Kiss Me (Sixpence None The Richer) - good tune, maybe a bit slow for a starter in retrospect
- Somewhere Only We Know (Keane) - it rocks
- Everybody's Gone To War (some Australian chick) - it really, really rocks. Love this song
- Who Knew (Pink) - solid tune, maybe not the best fit for us, but fun to play
- King of Pain (Alanis Morrisette acoustic version) - nice backup part for me to sing in this
- Shiver (Natalie Imbrouglia) - kind of mellow, but it's a nice one
- Life For Rent (Dido) - not my favorite tune, but I do get to sing in it
- Torn (Natalie Imbrouglia) - nice, and people know it
- What Took You So Long (Emma Bunton) - yes, former Spice Girl. But it's a hauling song
- Radio (The Corrs) - nice guitar in this one
Set 2
- I Don't Want A Lover (Texas) - good, straight-ahead rocker
- Since You've Been Gone (Kelly Clarkson) - decent tune, I LOVE singing the "yeah, yeah" in the chorus
- Sk8r Boi (Avril Lavine) - moves along pretty good, but makes my arms tired
- Bend and Break (Keane) - another fun one to play, even if there aren't any BGV's
- Starting Today (Natalie Immbrouglia) - why is it that I want to describe all of hers as "nice"?
- Sand In My Shoes (Dido) - rocks pretty good, for Dido
- Ironic (Alanis Morrisette) - people seemed to like this one - easy to sing along, I guess
- Hunter (Dido) - not my favorite, but it has a nice grooving drum part
- She Will Be Loved (Maroon 5) - love this tune, plus there's lot's of singing for me
- Satellite (Natalie Imbouglia) - well... yeah, it's nice, too
- So Young (The Corrs) - love the ending... nice harmonies on "yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah"
- Leave Me Alone (P!ink) - another rocker
Set 3
- Behind These Hazel Eyes (Kelly Clarkson) - pretty fun to play, the drums are all over the place
- Breathless (The Corrs) - hard not to love this tune
- Wishing I Was There (Natalie Imbrouglia) - very groovy, with a fun gang backup in the chorus
- Adia (Sarah Maclaughlin) - great drums in this one, plus lots of singing. Hooray!
- White Flag (Dido) - okay tune, but I get to sing in the chorus
- Counting Down The Days (Natalie Imbrouglia) - fun, but feels like I'm trying to hold back a team of wild horses to keep the tempo steady
- Thank You (Dido) - not bad, but I think my BGV needs a bit of polishing in this one
- Only When I Sleep (The Corrs) - slow, but it rocks. We skipped it, I think to move on to something quicker
- Black-Eyed Boy (Texas) - motown-ish rocking kind of tune, not bad...
- Steve McQueen (Sheryl Crow) - love this one... the drums haul, and I get to sing my heart out in the chorus... it's just right for my range - low enough that I can hit all the notes without having to worry about it, but high enough to make it feel like I'm working for it. I could play this all night...
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Tonight's The Night
The Cover Story (you may know them as the MNB) debut. It's going to be good, I hope. And fun. Fun to play, fun to listen to. The songs will start at the right tempo; the backup vocals will be so on pitch you will find yourself wondering where the CD is hidden; the guitar will be neither too loud nor too quiet, with an aggressive yet pleasant tone. It will all go well.
And I will not - NOT - drop my sticks.
Thanks to all of you who have decided to come and cheer us on. I'd love to buy you each a drink, but I'm afraid we're not getting paid quite that much. And thanks, also, to those of you who weren't able to get flights lined up (yes, I'll try to give you more warning next time) and so have been encouraging me from a distance. I appreciate it, and promise good seats to all when the world tour rolls around...
And I will not - NOT - drop my sticks.
Thanks to all of you who have decided to come and cheer us on. I'd love to buy you each a drink, but I'm afraid we're not getting paid quite that much. And thanks, also, to those of you who weren't able to get flights lined up (yes, I'll try to give you more warning next time) and so have been encouraging me from a distance. I appreciate it, and promise good seats to all when the world tour rolls around...
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
I Want (Part IV)
To run.
To sing like I don't have neighbours.
A great cigar.
The best shave ever.
To love with nothing held back.
To hit my snare so hard you blink.
To be pure.
To laugh with you.
To wear fun shoes more often.
To hear my little chick say "more?" in that beautiful, we've-been-playing-so-hard-I-can-barely-breathe voice.
Wisdom.
To sing like I don't have neighbours.
A great cigar.
The best shave ever.
To love with nothing held back.
To hit my snare so hard you blink.
To be pure.
To laugh with you.
To wear fun shoes more often.
To hear my little chick say "more?" in that beautiful, we've-been-playing-so-hard-I-can-barely-breathe voice.
Wisdom.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
My Broken Heart
I went to a concert last night... it was Darlene Zschech, a Christian singer from Australia. It was interesting on a number of fronts:
I am especially intrigued by how numbers 1 and 2 go together... how it could be rather less than stunning musically but so compelling spiritually. But then, I guess that's part of the mystery of what makes faith and the spirit so much more than what we can see and touch, and even know. If I had known what the music would be like (and it wasn't bad, it just wasn't U2), I wouldn't have expected to have been moved.
But I was moved.
And here's the other thing about it: it was sponsored by Compassion International. They're an organization who manage sponsorship of children at risk throughout the world. I know that's a good thing... that there are children who need food and don't have it, who are facing bad, bad odds. But I don't think about it much.
Then they showed me this:
1 John 3:17-18 - If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.
So I decided I needed to do something. I'm perhaps not going to change the world, but I found a little girl in Indonesia who needs help... she's just a little older than the little chick, and so we're going to help her. It costs $32 a month.
I was devastated as these statistics came up... I've never been able to just sit and hear about children being damaged, but since becoming a father... well, let's just say my tolerance level is almost non-existent. These children need someone to love them... they need to have their basic needs taken care of, and they need to know that they are important, that there is someone who cares about them and who doesn't want to hurt them or use them, someone who just wants what's best for them. Every child should have that, and while I can be that someone for my little girl, these children are in a position that it wrong. It's evil, and it's horrible, and it should never happen. I can't be a father to all of the children who need one, and that breaks my heart.
But here's what I think: even though some of it may be out of our hands, there is some that we can change.
So let's change it.
- As a time of reflection, inspiration, and worship, it was fantastic.
- As a concert, it was pretty crappy... other than a spot on her, the lights almost seemed random, the sound was not the worst I've heard, but it was a long ways from good, and she played some real dogs - especially the last three tunes.
- The opening band was a children's choir from Nyon, just up the road. The came onstage on scooters. I've seen a lot of shows, and some that you would expect to be a little strange... KISS, Ozzy, Alice Cooper... and I think this was the strangest thing I've ever seen on stage. Okay, maybe second to Ted Nugent shooting a flaming arrow into a stuffed buffalo, but it was still pretty strange.
I am especially intrigued by how numbers 1 and 2 go together... how it could be rather less than stunning musically but so compelling spiritually. But then, I guess that's part of the mystery of what makes faith and the spirit so much more than what we can see and touch, and even know. If I had known what the music would be like (and it wasn't bad, it just wasn't U2), I wouldn't have expected to have been moved.
But I was moved.
And here's the other thing about it: it was sponsored by Compassion International. They're an organization who manage sponsorship of children at risk throughout the world. I know that's a good thing... that there are children who need food and don't have it, who are facing bad, bad odds. But I don't think about it much.
Then they showed me this:
- Approximately 143 million children in the developing world (one in 13) are orphans.
- More than 10 million children under age 5 die each year. Two-thirds of these deaths (more than 6 million deaths every year) are preventable.
- Each day, 1,500 children worldwide become infected with HIV, the vast majority of them newborns.
- Every 14 seconds a child is orphaned by AIDS.
- An estimated 300 million children worldwide are subjected to violence, exploitation and abuse including the worst forms of child labor in communities, schools and institutions.
- An estimated 1.2 million children are trafficked worldwide every year.
1 John 3:17-18 - If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.
So I decided I needed to do something. I'm perhaps not going to change the world, but I found a little girl in Indonesia who needs help... she's just a little older than the little chick, and so we're going to help her. It costs $32 a month.
I was devastated as these statistics came up... I've never been able to just sit and hear about children being damaged, but since becoming a father... well, let's just say my tolerance level is almost non-existent. These children need someone to love them... they need to have their basic needs taken care of, and they need to know that they are important, that there is someone who cares about them and who doesn't want to hurt them or use them, someone who just wants what's best for them. Every child should have that, and while I can be that someone for my little girl, these children are in a position that it wrong. It's evil, and it's horrible, and it should never happen. I can't be a father to all of the children who need one, and that breaks my heart.
But here's what I think: even though some of it may be out of our hands, there is some that we can change.
So let's change it.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Good Genes
From a colleague at dinner this week, shaking her head:
"I don't get it. How do you eat like that (pointing at a rapidly-disappearing steak) and look like that (pointing at me)?"
Sure, I haven't been approached by GQ (recently) and won't be invited to open tryouts for... well, any Olympic team, but in the great genetic lottery, I'll take what I can get...
Have a good weekend, everyone!
"I don't get it. How do you eat like that (pointing at a rapidly-disappearing steak) and look like that (pointing at me)?"
Sure, I haven't been approached by GQ (recently) and won't be invited to open tryouts for... well, any Olympic team, but in the great genetic lottery, I'll take what I can get...
Have a good weekend, everyone!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
What Moves Me, Part I - Love
As I mentioned a while ago, I have been thinking about the primary motivations in my life. You know, usual, "hey, just woke up and I'm in the shower, may as well figure out what my life's about" kind of stuff. It's pretty easy for me to think about what I do - but the why can be harder to nail down. How much is self-serving? How much is altruistic?
I may say that I do something for love, when the reason I actually do it is so that someone will love me, will treat me like I want to be treated. I'm not doing that for love - I'm doing that to get attention, affection, or comfort for myself, which isn't wrong, but is certainly different, most notably in the focus of my gain rather than the gain of the one I'm loving. And I think it's worth recognizing. I guess I'm especially interested in what (or if) anything that truly motivates me is for something other than my own personal good.
I may as well kick off with the big one, and the one that probably anyone would list.
Love.
It has a lot of levels. The one that I think is the most beautiful in my life is my love for my daughter... it may be the purest thing about me. I am a firm - fervent - believer in the fact that I don't have her to make my life richer, though that is an unquestionable effect of her life. In most ways, I don't think of me having her at all.
She has me.
She has me to love her, to protect her, to teach her, to support her, to encourage her, to train her, to guide her, to empower her. And the equation of our love is very different than in a romantic relationship, or a friendship. What I want in a romantic love is a partnership, a shared balance of giving and taking. But with my daughter, what I want is for her to be free to take what she needs, without ever thinking of that balance. I don't want "she owes me" to be part of our emotional language together. Do I want her to love me? Unquestionably. But I want it to be because she chooses to love me, not because it's a condition of my love for her.
Still, I wonder - how much of what my love for her is, is pure love, just an intent to give and build into her with no view to my own ends? And how much is because I want her to reflect well on me, or to think or act or believe like me? And where is the line between my desire to "grow" her - as honorable as it may be - and a love that is an end to itself?
I think that this is a truly deep and beautiful thing, but not a pure one, not one that I can say is completely for her. It's for me, too.
More to come, but I wanted to get the ball rolling...
I may say that I do something for love, when the reason I actually do it is so that someone will love me, will treat me like I want to be treated. I'm not doing that for love - I'm doing that to get attention, affection, or comfort for myself, which isn't wrong, but is certainly different, most notably in the focus of my gain rather than the gain of the one I'm loving. And I think it's worth recognizing. I guess I'm especially interested in what (or if) anything that truly motivates me is for something other than my own personal good.
I may as well kick off with the big one, and the one that probably anyone would list.
Love.
It has a lot of levels. The one that I think is the most beautiful in my life is my love for my daughter... it may be the purest thing about me. I am a firm - fervent - believer in the fact that I don't have her to make my life richer, though that is an unquestionable effect of her life. In most ways, I don't think of me having her at all.
She has me.
She has me to love her, to protect her, to teach her, to support her, to encourage her, to train her, to guide her, to empower her. And the equation of our love is very different than in a romantic relationship, or a friendship. What I want in a romantic love is a partnership, a shared balance of giving and taking. But with my daughter, what I want is for her to be free to take what she needs, without ever thinking of that balance. I don't want "she owes me" to be part of our emotional language together. Do I want her to love me? Unquestionably. But I want it to be because she chooses to love me, not because it's a condition of my love for her.
Still, I wonder - how much of what my love for her is, is pure love, just an intent to give and build into her with no view to my own ends? And how much is because I want her to reflect well on me, or to think or act or believe like me? And where is the line between my desire to "grow" her - as honorable as it may be - and a love that is an end to itself?
I think that this is a truly deep and beautiful thing, but not a pure one, not one that I can say is completely for her. It's for me, too.
More to come, but I wanted to get the ball rolling...
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Tonight Is The Night
Canada is playing the Cherry Blossoms as we speak. It's a defensive (read: boring) match: an hour in, and tied at 5 each. I know that we don't usually do so well in things that don't involve wearing skates, but come on, boys! Let's make Trudeau proud!
5,000
We've had 5,000 visitors now on the yellow couch. Thanks. And I mean that, even for those of you viewing on macs.
;-)
;-)
Monday, September 24, 2007
Roasting Chestnuts By The Fire
I love the smell of roasting chestnuts... after 7 years in Geneva, where there are vendors roasting and selling them every few blocks, that's the smell that means fall is here. So when the little chick and I were out for a walk earlier this week and I saw some chestnut trees that had been shedding the nuts, I picked up a bunch and decided to give it a go. It would be fun, something interesting for the little chick to do, and, fill my house with that wonderful smell.
I thought about looking online for some recipes, but then I realized: they're nuts. You just roast them. How hard could it be?
Well, it turns out it's a little more complicated than I had guessed. I will be happy to share the recipe to success when I get it, but, in the meantime, I can tell you this:
1. 160° C seems to be a little high. Maybe really, really, high.
2. If you just put them in the oven like you find them, they'll explode.
Thankfully the little chick and I were out of the room when they started to pop, and she never connected the sounds coming from the kitchen with the chestnuts we had put into the oven. She was a bit disappointed when she found out that we wouldn't be able to eat them after all, and, with the kind of tact only a two year-old can muster, remarked as I was pulling the ones that remained on the baking tray out of the oven that there was a bit of a mess.
Yes, ma'am.
The MNB was over tonight, as usual, to practice, and I mentioned this to them. They seemed to kind it pretty amusing, but really - have you ever seen any other roasted nuts that all have the shells split? I just assumed it happened as part of the roasting process, and that, like mussels, that was probably how you could tell they were done.
Not exactly, as it turns out.
So we'll have another go at it. Next time I'm reading up, there will be no explosions in the kitchen, and everything will turn out beautifully.
If I had a quarter for every time I said that...
I thought about looking online for some recipes, but then I realized: they're nuts. You just roast them. How hard could it be?
Well, it turns out it's a little more complicated than I had guessed. I will be happy to share the recipe to success when I get it, but, in the meantime, I can tell you this:
1. 160° C seems to be a little high. Maybe really, really, high.
2. If you just put them in the oven like you find them, they'll explode.
Thankfully the little chick and I were out of the room when they started to pop, and she never connected the sounds coming from the kitchen with the chestnuts we had put into the oven. She was a bit disappointed when she found out that we wouldn't be able to eat them after all, and, with the kind of tact only a two year-old can muster, remarked as I was pulling the ones that remained on the baking tray out of the oven that there was a bit of a mess.
Yes, ma'am.
The MNB was over tonight, as usual, to practice, and I mentioned this to them. They seemed to kind it pretty amusing, but really - have you ever seen any other roasted nuts that all have the shells split? I just assumed it happened as part of the roasting process, and that, like mussels, that was probably how you could tell they were done.
Not exactly, as it turns out.
So we'll have another go at it. Next time I'm reading up, there will be no explosions in the kitchen, and everything will turn out beautifully.
If I had a quarter for every time I said that...
Oh, Happy Day
I found my sunglasses. I had bought some new jeans, and tossed them into the bag on the way out of the store. It's happy, happy news. Not only do I have my favorite sunglasses back, I can maintain that I don't lose stuff like that. Pride and cool shades: what else could I possibly ask for?
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Jesus Camp
I watched a bit of this show last night, and it was interesting. I think I want to get all the way through before commenting in detail, but I did find it fascinating. As more or less an insider to the sub-culture they're showing, it was really intriguing for me to see what bits they kept and what they left out, what people said that, I know, means one thing when, in the context it's shown sounds, very much like it means something else. And it's remarkable how things that would seem innocuous at worst become so much more ominous when there's a soundtrack of brooding, eerie, minor music flowing underneath it.
Anyone else seen it? What were your impressions?
Anyone else seen it? What were your impressions?
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The Cherry Blossoms
They're playing Wales. And they're only down by 4.
[EDIT] OOOH! They're winning! They had a full-field run to score a try. Go, cherry blossoms! Blossom with all your cherry might!
[EDIT] Okay, it didn't last long. But they might come back.
[EDIT] OOOH! They're winning! They had a full-field run to score a try. Go, cherry blossoms! Blossom with all your cherry might!
[EDIT] Okay, it didn't last long. But they might come back.
I Should Have Used Butter While Getting My Hair Cut
Turns out that olive oil and Brussels sprouts is a bad combination. Unbelievably bad, really. I thought it would be a bit healthier than butter and give the flavor a little boost, but it was just wrong.
Time for some audience participation, and maybe the chance for me to avoid another hideous kitchen incident like this. Have you ever tried something that really seemed like it should work, but really didn't?
In other news, I officially love getting my hair cut. Okay, every once in a while it doesn't quite work out, but I'm usually happy with how it looks after. And I think I could spend a good portion of my day just getting it washed. It puts me in such a good mood, I even talked to the girl cutting it today.
That may not sound strange, but my conversational French is... well, enough to stop most conversations. And I haven't found many of the girls at the place I go who speak English. So, I usually just kind of keep quiet, say "oui, c'est bon" when they look hopeful and ask me something, and "non, je ne pense pas" when they look doubtful and ask me something. It usually pans out okay.
So while I was getting my hair washed today, the girl asked me something I didn't understand. Plus, I was facing away from her, so I couldn't tell which response to use. Time to 'fess up.
"Desolé," I said, "j'ai pas compris; je ne parle pas tres bien français". And that's a pretty hefty understatement, even for me.
She seemed okay with that, and things continued without me either getting scalded, dyed crazy-German-lady red (a very special color not found anywhere in nature, but which, it seems, goes very well with cropped hair, glasses with a string hanging from them, and dangly earrings), or shaved bald. Hooray! That's my entire hair-cutting check-list. Mission accomplished. Almost.
"Qu'est ce que votre langue maternelle?" she asked.
"Anglais" I said. I figured that about explained it. She shrugged, and continued.
Turns out she didn't figure her French was very good either. She was Spanish, and also spoke Portuguese (she had lived for a while in Brazil, and maybe Portugal... I mean maybe I'm-not-sure, not maybe she-didn't-know).
Why is it that no one takes me seriously when I say my French is bad? My colleagues are under the amusing (and somewhat dangerous) impression that I understand everything they say, no matter what I tell them. And when things go horribly wrong - as they are bound to do when you combine banks, software, lunch and a language I don't speak - they seem to believe I'm just playing a joke on them.
"Don't worry," they tell new people who are just meeting me. "He understands everything."
"No," I say, "I actually don't. I didn't even understand your name."
And then they all laugh. It's really fun.
Anyways, she went on (in French) to tell me about, I think, much of the last 10 years or so of her life, what it was like to live in Brazil, what the pronunciation differences are between Spanish and Portuguese (hello! I'm the one who's still stuck on French, remember? I need two more languages in the mix like I need a bigger forehead), and how English people never learn French. Even the ones who live here. Not much I can come back with on that front, is there? I just agreed.
Except when she looked concerned.
In any case, it was a pretty good cut, and she was kind enough to rinse it after, which keeps me from feeling itchy (or looking really, really bad in my black shirt - and not the kind of bad that means "cool", either, just the way your grandparents mean it).
I think I'll go back. I just need to learn to say "what kinds of snacks do they have in Brazil, and do you have any with you?" first.
Time for some audience participation, and maybe the chance for me to avoid another hideous kitchen incident like this. Have you ever tried something that really seemed like it should work, but really didn't?
In other news, I officially love getting my hair cut. Okay, every once in a while it doesn't quite work out, but I'm usually happy with how it looks after. And I think I could spend a good portion of my day just getting it washed. It puts me in such a good mood, I even talked to the girl cutting it today.
That may not sound strange, but my conversational French is... well, enough to stop most conversations. And I haven't found many of the girls at the place I go who speak English. So, I usually just kind of keep quiet, say "oui, c'est bon" when they look hopeful and ask me something, and "non, je ne pense pas" when they look doubtful and ask me something. It usually pans out okay.
So while I was getting my hair washed today, the girl asked me something I didn't understand. Plus, I was facing away from her, so I couldn't tell which response to use. Time to 'fess up.
"Desolé," I said, "j'ai pas compris; je ne parle pas tres bien français". And that's a pretty hefty understatement, even for me.
She seemed okay with that, and things continued without me either getting scalded, dyed crazy-German-lady red (a very special color not found anywhere in nature, but which, it seems, goes very well with cropped hair, glasses with a string hanging from them, and dangly earrings), or shaved bald. Hooray! That's my entire hair-cutting check-list. Mission accomplished. Almost.
"Qu'est ce que votre langue maternelle?" she asked.
"Anglais" I said. I figured that about explained it. She shrugged, and continued.
Turns out she didn't figure her French was very good either. She was Spanish, and also spoke Portuguese (she had lived for a while in Brazil, and maybe Portugal... I mean maybe I'm-not-sure, not maybe she-didn't-know).
Why is it that no one takes me seriously when I say my French is bad? My colleagues are under the amusing (and somewhat dangerous) impression that I understand everything they say, no matter what I tell them. And when things go horribly wrong - as they are bound to do when you combine banks, software, lunch and a language I don't speak - they seem to believe I'm just playing a joke on them.
"Don't worry," they tell new people who are just meeting me. "He understands everything."
"No," I say, "I actually don't. I didn't even understand your name."
And then they all laugh. It's really fun.
Anyways, she went on (in French) to tell me about, I think, much of the last 10 years or so of her life, what it was like to live in Brazil, what the pronunciation differences are between Spanish and Portuguese (hello! I'm the one who's still stuck on French, remember? I need two more languages in the mix like I need a bigger forehead), and how English people never learn French. Even the ones who live here. Not much I can come back with on that front, is there? I just agreed.
Except when she looked concerned.
In any case, it was a pretty good cut, and she was kind enough to rinse it after, which keeps me from feeling itchy (or looking really, really bad in my black shirt - and not the kind of bad that means "cool", either, just the way your grandparents mean it).
I think I'll go back. I just need to learn to say "what kinds of snacks do they have in Brazil, and do you have any with you?" first.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Thanks For Helping
We were emptying the garbages today, and I asked the little chick to put her garbage can back in her room. She trotted off, and I turned on the hall light to make it easier for her to see what she was doing, and she turned around and said, "thanks for helpin' on the light" and then went to put her garbage can away. Then we walked around town a bit with her on my shoulders, singing at full volume the whole time, mostly with words I didn't recognize, with the occasional "daddy", "popcorn", "Bible" and "belly" thrown in to make the rhyming work.
It's going to be hard to go back to work.
It's going to be hard to go back to work.
Monday, September 17, 2007
I Miss You
My mind went tonight, as it sometimes does, to the Simpsons. I love this one:
Selma Bouvier(DMV Employee testing Otto for his licence):
Selma Bouvier: "When you do good, I use the green pen, when you do bad, I use the red pen. Any questions?"
Otto Mann: "Uh, yeah. You used to be a man right? You can tell me, I'm open minded."
Selma Bouvier: "I won't be needing this!" (drops the green pen in the trash)
I may need to get on ebay one of these days and fix this.
Selma Bouvier(DMV Employee testing Otto for his licence):
Selma Bouvier: "When you do good, I use the green pen, when you do bad, I use the red pen. Any questions?"
Otto Mann: "Uh, yeah. You used to be a man right? You can tell me, I'm open minded."
Selma Bouvier: "I won't be needing this!" (drops the green pen in the trash)
I may need to get on ebay one of these days and fix this.
You're Under Arrest
It's always kind of a sad point when I've seen the last big show of the year. Sometimes I get surprised and someone else comes along, but it looks like The Police was the last big one this year.
It was good. Not bad, not great... but good. It was cool to hear them play some tunes that I have never heard live before, and some others that I had heard Sting do with his band. Since I'm still a little sleepy, I'm just going to list some observations:
Sting had a lot of room for his bass, relative to when he's with his band, and it was pretty cool to see a different side to his playing... a lot of chording in addition to playing the bass line.
Vocally... well, I thought he was great for the first half. There were some iffy bits in the second part, and one tune where he was really, really flat for quite a bit of it. And, according to a couple guitar-playing friends in the audience, they had transposed quite a few songs down...
Stewart Copeland can still play, but his style is really, really different from mine in almost every way. First off, he plays way more notes (but it wouldn't sound like The Police without that). He feels time ahead of the beat, and I feel it behind, so it always feels to me like he's trying to rush the tunes, but Sting usually plays even further in front. And he's kind of a showman, I guess. Throwing his sticks, making big gestures, getting happy with his gong. Yeah, I know, he's in The Police. But it just seems a little over the top. And the white sweats? I mean, yes, it's a "recapture the 80's" thing, but aren't there some things that we should just leave as memories?
Andy Summer seems to be the one who has really taken advantage of the last 20 years to not touch his instrument. His time was bad, his soloing was atrocious, and his tone... well, it was great on some tunes, but that thin, clean strat just sounds weak and hollow now on a lot of the songs.
The light show was fantastic. I was as close as I could get in the general admission area on the floor, and there was no pushing and shoving, which was a treat. I wasn't close enough to see there faces well, but I could certainly watch them play without the delay of waiting for the image on the screen, and could take in the full light show at the same time. Very cool - somebody has spent a lot of time getting that ready.
The security person in front of me was named Vinda. I know, because the guy next to me started flirting with her as soon as he arrived, and I got to watch as the night went on. At first she was really enjoying it... he was playful and really, really, really attentive. He got her number. Or, at least, a number. But as the evening progressed, I have a crazy little feeling she regretted her decision. He was right in the front - where it is probably at least 5 degrees cooler than it would be 2 metres back, and a lot easier to stand since he had the security rail to hold on to. Vinda had some water there to pass out to people who were dehydrating, but buddy would get her attention every five minutes, look injured and give her some serious puppy-dog eyes, and make drinking motions. She kept getting more for him, but I bet by the end of the night she was dreading getting that phone call. I mean, I was even getting tired of it, and there's no round 2 in sight for me. Sorry, Vinda.
What's the deal with Roxanne? I mean, it's an okay song, but not really one of their best. I seem to be the only one who thinks that, though. It was the same when Sting has played solo... everyone just LOVES to sing along with that one. I really don't get it.
Why are all the best designs on black t-shirts? If I never bought another black t-shirt for the rest of my life I'd have enough to do me. They're killing me with that. Still... what are you going to do?
I learned today that Sting's son was fronting the opening band. Caro remarked (via sms... she was in the golden circle, and area roughly the size of Delaware in front of me, which is why I was in prime shape to see the light show but not-so-good for the faces) that they sounded a bit like the love child of the police and U2, which was about right. I couldn't figure out why they would have a band so similar in sound opening for them, but it kind of makes sense now. That's pretty cool.
Anyways, I have some days off with my little chick this week, and I can't wait. I'm going to teach her "Roxanne" and see what she thinks of it.
It was good. Not bad, not great... but good. It was cool to hear them play some tunes that I have never heard live before, and some others that I had heard Sting do with his band. Since I'm still a little sleepy, I'm just going to list some observations:
Sting had a lot of room for his bass, relative to when he's with his band, and it was pretty cool to see a different side to his playing... a lot of chording in addition to playing the bass line.
Vocally... well, I thought he was great for the first half. There were some iffy bits in the second part, and one tune where he was really, really flat for quite a bit of it. And, according to a couple guitar-playing friends in the audience, they had transposed quite a few songs down...
Stewart Copeland can still play, but his style is really, really different from mine in almost every way. First off, he plays way more notes (but it wouldn't sound like The Police without that). He feels time ahead of the beat, and I feel it behind, so it always feels to me like he's trying to rush the tunes, but Sting usually plays even further in front. And he's kind of a showman, I guess. Throwing his sticks, making big gestures, getting happy with his gong. Yeah, I know, he's in The Police. But it just seems a little over the top. And the white sweats? I mean, yes, it's a "recapture the 80's" thing, but aren't there some things that we should just leave as memories?
Andy Summer seems to be the one who has really taken advantage of the last 20 years to not touch his instrument. His time was bad, his soloing was atrocious, and his tone... well, it was great on some tunes, but that thin, clean strat just sounds weak and hollow now on a lot of the songs.
The light show was fantastic. I was as close as I could get in the general admission area on the floor, and there was no pushing and shoving, which was a treat. I wasn't close enough to see there faces well, but I could certainly watch them play without the delay of waiting for the image on the screen, and could take in the full light show at the same time. Very cool - somebody has spent a lot of time getting that ready.
The security person in front of me was named Vinda. I know, because the guy next to me started flirting with her as soon as he arrived, and I got to watch as the night went on. At first she was really enjoying it... he was playful and really, really, really attentive. He got her number. Or, at least, a number. But as the evening progressed, I have a crazy little feeling she regretted her decision. He was right in the front - where it is probably at least 5 degrees cooler than it would be 2 metres back, and a lot easier to stand since he had the security rail to hold on to. Vinda had some water there to pass out to people who were dehydrating, but buddy would get her attention every five minutes, look injured and give her some serious puppy-dog eyes, and make drinking motions. She kept getting more for him, but I bet by the end of the night she was dreading getting that phone call. I mean, I was even getting tired of it, and there's no round 2 in sight for me. Sorry, Vinda.
What's the deal with Roxanne? I mean, it's an okay song, but not really one of their best. I seem to be the only one who thinks that, though. It was the same when Sting has played solo... everyone just LOVES to sing along with that one. I really don't get it.
Why are all the best designs on black t-shirts? If I never bought another black t-shirt for the rest of my life I'd have enough to do me. They're killing me with that. Still... what are you going to do?
I learned today that Sting's son was fronting the opening band. Caro remarked (via sms... she was in the golden circle, and area roughly the size of Delaware in front of me, which is why I was in prime shape to see the light show but not-so-good for the faces) that they sounded a bit like the love child of the police and U2, which was about right. I couldn't figure out why they would have a band so similar in sound opening for them, but it kind of makes sense now. That's pretty cool.
Anyways, I have some days off with my little chick this week, and I can't wait. I'm going to teach her "Roxanne" and see what she thinks of it.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Sing To Me
My little chick was happy tonight. She sang to me on the train on the way home. She rode on my shoulders from the train station home, alternately holding on to/steering me by/"fixing" my hair and singing almost the whole time. We made a tent, and sang in that, and even bath time had some pretty serious singing action.
I think it may be the most beautiful thing in the world.
*sigh*
I think it may be the most beautiful thing in the world.
*sigh*
Taste Test
Well, I popped up a bit of white and yellow corn and did a side-by-side comparison. The results were surprising:
Overall winner: close, but I'm choosing white by a small margin. I'll sure eat yellow if it's in front of me, though...
- Taste - the white is quite a bit sweeter and more pleasant than the yellow.
- Texture - the yellow popped up much fluffier than the white, and was less chewy. The white had by far fewer husks, but that is not enough to compensate for the compactness of the popped corn. I do plan to test again, though, since the volume of the corn once it was popped was far less than I was used to (and I know my popcorn pot pretty well). It may be an anomaly, but at this point, the yellow wins.
- Appearance - this is a draw: the size and shape of the yellow corn was much nicer, but the color of the white is better.
- Ease of Preparation - no appreciable difference.
Overall winner: close, but I'm choosing white by a small margin. I'll sure eat yellow if it's in front of me, though...
Thursday, September 13, 2007
My Eyes!
Sorry about the lack of updates lately - I've been busy with a friend staying at my place, and I also seem to have acquired an eye infection from somewhere. It feels kind of stupid - 5 year-olds are supposed to get these things, not adults. But yesterday, it was certainly there - red and swollen to the point that I couldn't really focus with my right eye.
Just so you're not alarmed, I went to the doctor, got some medicine, and am well on my way to being recovered.
But I wasn't able to work... looking at the computer (which is mostly what I do while I'm working) was really messing me up. I couldn't focus with both eyes, but it turns out that using my PC while sitting with one eye closed is not that practical, either. I left midway through the afternoon, soon realized that my eyes tend to play a pretty central role in my away-from work activities.
Maybe I'll write on my blog. Maybe I'll edit some pictures. Maybe catch up on facebook. Maybe work on mixing some music. Maybe try to find out what Scott Baio has been up to lately. You know, just the usual stuff. But those all use the computer and all (except maybe the last one) work best with two eyes. I couldn't read. I couldn't watch TV. So I limited myself to checking my work email at most every 15 minutes, strapped on my bass and spent the rest of the afternoon singing.
And something I've been thinking about lately... what really moves me? What are the compelling forces in my life? More to come on that...
Just so you're not alarmed, I went to the doctor, got some medicine, and am well on my way to being recovered.
But I wasn't able to work... looking at the computer (which is mostly what I do while I'm working) was really messing me up. I couldn't focus with both eyes, but it turns out that using my PC while sitting with one eye closed is not that practical, either. I left midway through the afternoon, soon realized that my eyes tend to play a pretty central role in my away-from work activities.
Maybe I'll write on my blog. Maybe I'll edit some pictures. Maybe catch up on facebook. Maybe work on mixing some music. Maybe try to find out what Scott Baio has been up to lately. You know, just the usual stuff. But those all use the computer and all (except maybe the last one) work best with two eyes. I couldn't read. I couldn't watch TV. So I limited myself to checking my work email at most every 15 minutes, strapped on my bass and spent the rest of the afternoon singing.
And something I've been thinking about lately... what really moves me? What are the compelling forces in my life? More to come on that...
Monday, September 10, 2007
Glad To Have Found Me
Well, I had a wonderful weekend. But now, to celebrate the weekly return to real life, I think I'd like to highlight some of the searches that have led various unsuspecting people to The Yellow Couch.
Google.com: is the sun always yellow? He got to me via the yellow from yellow couch and the title, "The Sun Always Shines In Lugano". I think this one may have been a disappointment, no matter how you slice it. I mean, fair enough, that's a second-grade-science kind of question, but this is a first-grade-science kind of site. Apparently, though, if you ask Google where to find the answer to this question, they figure my blog is your best bet. Sorry!
Google Images: Robert Palmer or Robert Palmer Girls (I've had both). I find this a bit strange... I didn't even re-save the image somewhere... I'm just displaying it on one of my posts, but I've had a few hits from it. Why not... I guess it will show up there as well as anywhere.
Google Blog Search: photojournalism compact cameras. This led to my May Day pictures, which, I'm sad to say, is actually a post about pictures without any pictures in it, since I was still figuring out how to best link to my hosting site. How's that for a let-down?
Google.com: light yellow leather couches low back yellow. Well, sorry. The yellow and couch turn out to be completely unrelated to the "low" and "back" in this post, in which I am discussing the pros and cons of various jean pockets. Once again, though, Google figures I'm the guy to talk to if you want help choosing your furniture. And while you could do worse, you could also do a whole lot better. But then, if you're the kind of person who puts the same word into a search twice, maybe you couldn't do a whole lot better.
Google.com: designing a room around yellow couch. See above.
AOL search: couch bags. Yeah, I'm not going to help you there.
I don't know... I'm hoping that maybe one or two of the Robert Palmer people will come back, but I don't think I've generated a whole lot of return traffic with these hits...
Have a good week, everybody.
Google.com: is the sun always yellow? He got to me via the yellow from yellow couch and the title, "The Sun Always Shines In Lugano". I think this one may have been a disappointment, no matter how you slice it. I mean, fair enough, that's a second-grade-science kind of question, but this is a first-grade-science kind of site. Apparently, though, if you ask Google where to find the answer to this question, they figure my blog is your best bet. Sorry!
Google Images: Robert Palmer or Robert Palmer Girls (I've had both). I find this a bit strange... I didn't even re-save the image somewhere... I'm just displaying it on one of my posts, but I've had a few hits from it. Why not... I guess it will show up there as well as anywhere.
Google Blog Search: photojournalism compact cameras. This led to my May Day pictures, which, I'm sad to say, is actually a post about pictures without any pictures in it, since I was still figuring out how to best link to my hosting site. How's that for a let-down?
Google.com: light yellow leather couches low back yellow. Well, sorry. The yellow and couch turn out to be completely unrelated to the "low" and "back" in this post, in which I am discussing the pros and cons of various jean pockets. Once again, though, Google figures I'm the guy to talk to if you want help choosing your furniture. And while you could do worse, you could also do a whole lot better. But then, if you're the kind of person who puts the same word into a search twice, maybe you couldn't do a whole lot better.
Google.com: designing a room around yellow couch. See above.
AOL search: couch bags. Yeah, I'm not going to help you there.
I don't know... I'm hoping that maybe one or two of the Robert Palmer people will come back, but I don't think I've generated a whole lot of return traffic with these hits...
Have a good week, everybody.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Rugby
The Japanese team have, to date, have 0 wins in 16 World Cup appearances.
The name of their team is The Cherry Blossoms.
So, All Blacks vs. Cherry Blossoms. Really, who are you going to have your money on? It may be time to rethink that whole "flowers of the rugby world" thing.
The name of their team is The Cherry Blossoms.
So, All Blacks vs. Cherry Blossoms. Really, who are you going to have your money on? It may be time to rethink that whole "flowers of the rugby world" thing.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Sunglasses
I can't find my sunglasses. I had them on Tuesday; now I don't. I never lose stuff like this.
So here's the thing: they aren't expensive ones. I kind of feel like sunglasses are just too easy to sit on, get scratched, have a two year-old wonder what they would look like in the oven or whatever to pay a lot for them. So I buy cheap ones, but these ones were still eally nice. They fit right, they felt good, and they looked good. And now they're gone. Or maybe in the oven - I better check that when I get home.
Anyways, it looks like back to Rome to try and find the street vendor I bought them from to see if he has any more.
Anyone up for a trip?
So here's the thing: they aren't expensive ones. I kind of feel like sunglasses are just too easy to sit on, get scratched, have a two year-old wonder what they would look like in the oven or whatever to pay a lot for them. So I buy cheap ones, but these ones were still eally nice. They fit right, they felt good, and they looked good. And now they're gone. Or maybe in the oven - I better check that when I get home.
Anyways, it looks like back to Rome to try and find the street vendor I bought them from to see if he has any more.
Anyone up for a trip?
Thursday, September 6, 2007
White Popcorn And The Demise Of The Interweb
We were talking about white popcorn tonight. I had a friend who just arrived back from a trip to Canada... she had very kindly asked if there was anything I wanted from there. Thanks, I said, it would be great if you could bring back some white popcorn... it's impossible to get here. She said she'd take a look for me.
Well, it turns out that they don't have it in Ontario. She went to a bunch of stores - seven, actually - including what may have been an actual underground hippie colony fronting as a health-food shop (who would they be hiding from, you ask? most likely the fashion police, but that's a whole other post). No one had it.
"Is it bleached?" the hippies asked her. "'Cause if it's white 'cause it's been bleached, we sure won't have it."
It seems like kind of a pointless thing to say, to me, since they already didn't have it and they didn't even know if it was bleached. But, I wasn't there. In any case, she was kind enough to bring me back a jar of Orville's original gourmet which, while not white, is going to be tasty. But she did ask me... what's the difference?
"Well," I said, "it's.... uh, better. You know."
"Better... how?"
"Well, it's lighter. It's not as chewy. The flavor is cleaner."
"So, is it bleached?"
And I realized that I have no idea. Why is it white? Why is it better, and why don't more people sell it if it's better? I decided I would just look it up when I got home.
So that's what I've done. But the internet has been pretty unhelpful on this one.
I tried what makes white popcorn white, with no quotes, and just got a lot of sites trying to sell me either white popcorn or, usually, something white and related to popcorn. I tried with quotes and got nothing. Same with why is popcorn white.
Now, usually, I can find what I need online in not much time. But this is different. I've been looking for a while, and I have only found one site that kind of explains it, here. And it just tells me that there are three common varieties of popcorn. But are they processed differently? Why do they taste different? I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the Alternative Field Crops Manual from Purdue University is more of a technical document than something done by David Rosengarten would be, but it's a shame. I've seen a few people suggesting that the husks are thinner on the white popcorn, which would certainly explain why the texture is better once it's popped, but I haven't really found anything substantive.
So, does somebody have a book or something?
Oh, and Anonymous, let me just head you off right now and say that this has nothing to do with being fussy. Really, popcorn is just on a whole other level...
Well, it turns out that they don't have it in Ontario. She went to a bunch of stores - seven, actually - including what may have been an actual underground hippie colony fronting as a health-food shop (who would they be hiding from, you ask? most likely the fashion police, but that's a whole other post). No one had it.
"Is it bleached?" the hippies asked her. "'Cause if it's white 'cause it's been bleached, we sure won't have it."
It seems like kind of a pointless thing to say, to me, since they already didn't have it and they didn't even know if it was bleached. But, I wasn't there. In any case, she was kind enough to bring me back a jar of Orville's original gourmet which, while not white, is going to be tasty. But she did ask me... what's the difference?
"Well," I said, "it's.... uh, better. You know."
"Better... how?"
"Well, it's lighter. It's not as chewy. The flavor is cleaner."
"So, is it bleached?"
And I realized that I have no idea. Why is it white? Why is it better, and why don't more people sell it if it's better? I decided I would just look it up when I got home.
So that's what I've done. But the internet has been pretty unhelpful on this one.
I tried what makes white popcorn white, with no quotes, and just got a lot of sites trying to sell me either white popcorn or, usually, something white and related to popcorn. I tried with quotes and got nothing. Same with why is popcorn white.
Now, usually, I can find what I need online in not much time. But this is different. I've been looking for a while, and I have only found one site that kind of explains it, here. And it just tells me that there are three common varieties of popcorn. But are they processed differently? Why do they taste different? I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the Alternative Field Crops Manual from Purdue University is more of a technical document than something done by David Rosengarten would be, but it's a shame. I've seen a few people suggesting that the husks are thinner on the white popcorn, which would certainly explain why the texture is better once it's popped, but I haven't really found anything substantive.
So, does somebody have a book or something?
Oh, and Anonymous, let me just head you off right now and say that this has nothing to do with being fussy. Really, popcorn is just on a whole other level...
Stockholm: Design
I'm slowly getting caught up.
There wasn't as much "nordic design" as I had anticipated in Sweden. Perhaps it's just because Ikea is ubiquitous that I don't even recognize it any more when I see it, or maybe they're just past that whole thing, but I kind of wish there had been some more. It's like going to Disneyland only to find out that Mickey doesn't live there any more. Kind of a bummer.
In any case, I have some design shots online now. You can see them here, but these ones are my favorites.
There wasn't as much "nordic design" as I had anticipated in Sweden. Perhaps it's just because Ikea is ubiquitous that I don't even recognize it any more when I see it, or maybe they're just past that whole thing, but I kind of wish there had been some more. It's like going to Disneyland only to find out that Mickey doesn't live there any more. Kind of a bummer.
In any case, I have some design shots online now. You can see them here, but these ones are my favorites.
[EDIT] Added the link... sorry!
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Marilyn Manson, Part III
To continue in the pictures of the beautiful people of Stockholm. And yeah... it's the eye of the beholder. The new ones start on page 4: you can find them here.
Some of my favorites from this batch...
They asked me to take a couple shots of them, and I'm really happy with how they turned out. The girl on the left was remarkable: I fired off half a dozen shots to try to get them both with the right expression, and her smile is the same in every one.
Love his hair. I wish you could have seen it in real life - it was spectacular. I mean, stop and can't rip my eyes away spectacular. I wish I could have had him back-lit...
Now THAT'S Swedish hair. And no crap about his eyebrows, this time, okay? ;-)
Some of my favorites from this batch...
They asked me to take a couple shots of them, and I'm really happy with how they turned out. The girl on the left was remarkable: I fired off half a dozen shots to try to get them both with the right expression, and her smile is the same in every one.
Love his hair. I wish you could have seen it in real life - it was spectacular. I mean, stop and can't rip my eyes away spectacular. I wish I could have had him back-lit...
Now THAT'S Swedish hair. And no crap about his eyebrows, this time, okay? ;-)
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
New Jeans
Well, I can now officially get my nearly-new (I just got them at Christmas) favorite jeans on or off without having to undo them. And while this does sound eminently practical and perhaps even somewhat entertaining, it does make me think that, perhaps, the time has come to get new favorite jeans.
I like shopping. I don't usually have a hard time finding clothes that fit, but jeans seem to be the exception to the rule. And that's bad news, because I wear them a lot. I've lost a few inches around my middle and this is my second transition in the last two years. It's good, but it's also a bit of a pain, having to replace clothes that are fine except for the fact that there's a bit too much of them. And jeans are a special case.
Jeans are really more like friends than clothes. You make an investment in getting to know each other. You start off a little unsure... things are not really comfortable but you hope they'll get better. Sure, after a little while you may realize that it's just not going to work between you. The tears may be of regret or sadness or anger, but tears are tears when you're crying them. You may take some time off and decide to try again after you've both cooled down. But you know, deep down, that it's not going to work. There is no return from the "to try later" pile, no matter what you say as you part.
It's over.
But when you find those jeans that are destined to become your favorites, you can sense that something special is happening. And I've had it happen with different brands, with button-fly and zips, indigo, aged, or classic blue. You never know when it's going to strike, but when it does, it's like all of the stars in the what-not-to-wear sky (the original, British snarky one, not the cheery American one) are aligned. You put them on, and they're just right. They work with any shoes. You can toss on a jacket or a tee shirt and they pull it off with aplomb. It's like being able to communicate without having to learn the language first: it's more basic than speech.
They just fit.
And I don't want to do that again. I like my favorite jeans. They're not getting worn out, and their color is good, and we still get along so well. I'm unsure as to whether I should invest heavily in ice cream and try to save the relationship or bite the bullet and go shopping.
I'm telling you, I have a difficult life. I think I need to sleep on this.
I like shopping. I don't usually have a hard time finding clothes that fit, but jeans seem to be the exception to the rule. And that's bad news, because I wear them a lot. I've lost a few inches around my middle and this is my second transition in the last two years. It's good, but it's also a bit of a pain, having to replace clothes that are fine except for the fact that there's a bit too much of them. And jeans are a special case.
Jeans are really more like friends than clothes. You make an investment in getting to know each other. You start off a little unsure... things are not really comfortable but you hope they'll get better. Sure, after a little while you may realize that it's just not going to work between you. The tears may be of regret or sadness or anger, but tears are tears when you're crying them. You may take some time off and decide to try again after you've both cooled down. But you know, deep down, that it's not going to work. There is no return from the "to try later" pile, no matter what you say as you part.
It's over.
But when you find those jeans that are destined to become your favorites, you can sense that something special is happening. And I've had it happen with different brands, with button-fly and zips, indigo, aged, or classic blue. You never know when it's going to strike, but when it does, it's like all of the stars in the what-not-to-wear sky (the original, British snarky one, not the cheery American one) are aligned. You put them on, and they're just right. They work with any shoes. You can toss on a jacket or a tee shirt and they pull it off with aplomb. It's like being able to communicate without having to learn the language first: it's more basic than speech.
They just fit.
And I don't want to do that again. I like my favorite jeans. They're not getting worn out, and their color is good, and we still get along so well. I'm unsure as to whether I should invest heavily in ice cream and try to save the relationship or bite the bullet and go shopping.
I'm telling you, I have a difficult life. I think I need to sleep on this.
Stockholm: The Celebrities
Okay, maybe they're not really famous. But they look like famous people. Kind of.
I think this is one of those things that will just be better with more pictures and less words....
Young Brad Pitt
Cameron Diaz
Jessica Simpson
Very young Sting. You may have to squint a bit for this one.
Russell Crowe
Paris Hilton
Anna Kournikova
Daryl Hannah
I think this is one of those things that will just be better with more pictures and less words....
Young Brad Pitt
Cameron Diaz
Jessica Simpson
Very young Sting. You may have to squint a bit for this one.
Russell Crowe
Paris Hilton
Anna Kournikova
Daryl Hannah
Monday, September 3, 2007
Stockholm: The Animals
Sure, I've probably threatened to eat your cat if I could just find some bbq sauce. But deep down, I don't just love animals with garlic and a nice pinot noir. And this should prove it. There aren't a lot, but you can see more here.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Thank You For Talking
If we're ever at a movie together, it will go a lot better if you don't talk to me - or, I guess, to anyone - much while it's on. Unless I am really, really into you. That's not a value judgment, really... it's just something that bugs me. I say that to say this:
I couldn't be happier that a few of you are feeling comfortable enough here to be commenting. I don't care if you do it because I'm just so frightfully engaging, if you're hoping to - somehow - try to raise the overall standard by balancing my crap with something that actually makes sense, if, like me, you just can't stay away from a yellow couch (any yellow couch), or if you're my mom and you just feel like you probably should.
Just know you're welcome. I'm happy to see you whenever you choose to drop by, and I like to hear what you have to say. You know, as long as we're not in a theater.
I couldn't be happier that a few of you are feeling comfortable enough here to be commenting. I don't care if you do it because I'm just so frightfully engaging, if you're hoping to - somehow - try to raise the overall standard by balancing my crap with something that actually makes sense, if, like me, you just can't stay away from a yellow couch (any yellow couch), or if you're my mom and you just feel like you probably should.
Just know you're welcome. I'm happy to see you whenever you choose to drop by, and I like to hear what you have to say. You know, as long as we're not in a theater.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Stockholm: The Buildings
For Caro, who was getting tired of people pictures.
Here's the thing: when I take pictures of people, a lot of them turn out kind of like I saw them in my mind. Not all of them, but quite a few. When I take pictures of buildings, almost none of them do. Why? I don't know. I guess if I was choosing, I'd rather have it like this than the other way around, but still, it's a little frustrating.
So, here they are. Have a good weekend, in any case. I know I will. If you want to see the others, you can find them here.
Here's the thing: when I take pictures of people, a lot of them turn out kind of like I saw them in my mind. Not all of them, but quite a few. When I take pictures of buildings, almost none of them do. Why? I don't know. I guess if I was choosing, I'd rather have it like this than the other way around, but still, it's a little frustrating.
So, here they are. Have a good weekend, in any case. I know I will. If you want to see the others, you can find them here.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Bags
I woke up this morning with huge bags under my eyes, and 45 minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I had been dreaming that I was married to a woman who was unfaithful.
What a great way to start the day.
Could someone hit the "off" switch on your way out of the room? Thanks.
What a great way to start the day.
Could someone hit the "off" switch on your way out of the room? Thanks.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
The Coolest Thing Ever
I wrote about the Eurovision Song Contest here, and here, and here, and especially here. There are a couple other places, too, but you get the point.
I'm a fan.
And I just saw an add for the coolest thing ever. It's here. And that's all I'm going to say about that, for now.
*rubbing hands - the gleeful way, not the devious way*
I'm a fan.
And I just saw an add for the coolest thing ever. It's here. And that's all I'm going to say about that, for now.
*rubbing hands - the gleeful way, not the devious way*
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