Three Tales of Wonder and Suspense

I'm really, really tired.

I'm home again, and, as I guess it should be, the plane ride was exhausting. The new iPod made the cut, and I was listening to tunes and playing a little solitaire for a good portion of the trip, and the battery held out like a champ. Nice.

So, I have a few things to tell you about.

The first isn't about this trip - actually, it was on the way back from Calgary at Christmas. I hadn't had a Ceaser while I was there, and it seemed like a bit of a shame. It's a drink that was invented there (at Ceaser's steak house), and it's a combination of spicy clamato juice (tomato with "essence of clam" or something... I'm not exactly sure, and have been hesitant to dig much further than that into what actually goes into the bottle), with a little bit of tabasco, some vodka, lemon, and salt and pepper.

Anyways, on the plane, if you ask nicely and get the right attendant, they'll mix some drinks for you, but this one is usually a little bit complex to try for when they still have 200 people to serve. So, I asked for tomato juice and vodka. And the stewardess nodded, grabbed three vodkas, and held them out. I assumed that one was for me and that a couple other people had asked for the same thing. So I took one.

And she didn't move. She just kept looking at me.

I wasn't sure exactly what to do. I mean, I didn't want to seem ungrateful. I must admit, though, that I didn't really need three vodkas. And I was a little unsure as to what it was about my appearance that made her take one look at me and think, "here's a guy who obviously needs a triple". So, I took one more, let her keep the third, and gave her a look that was, I hope, an appropriate mix of genuine appreciation and mild disdain.

That's completely unrelated to the next story, but, in a kind of charming way, that complete lack of common context (other than me) is the thread that ties - or, I guess, doesn't tie - all three stories together.

The little chick has a cold. A nasty cold. She's coughing a lot, which scares her, because sometimes in the past, she's coughed hard enough to make herself throw up. Not much fun, and when you're 2, it can make a common cold a rather scary thing. For a while, she actually associated "sick" to throwing up, so if I asked her if she felt sick, she would just say "no", in the hopes that, if she didn't admit to it, her lunch would stay where it was supposed to.

So she wasn't her usual self during the day. I was happy to see her after not much time together lately, and she was happy to see me, too, but she wasn't sure what to do with herself. We played with Lego a lot. We played with Veggie Tales. We watched some movies. We built a tent in the living room and sat in there with some popcorn to watch our movies. We read stories. We fed her baby. And we a lot of had tea parties with a tea set she got for Christmas.

And we did each of these things for about 45 seconds before moving on to the next one. Cold = short attention span, it turns out. The funny thing is that she likes to get things cleaned up before starting something new (hooray for that, I say), so we actually spent most of the day putting toys away. Oh well - she didn't seem to mind.

It got tricky at night, though. She was having a lot of trouble sleeping. So she would lay in bed, be okay for a while, and then start to cough, and she would call out to me, "Allison coughing more! Daddy, need a hug and a kiss. " So I would go and try to comfort her, give her a kiss and a hug, sometimes lay down with her to try to help her sleep. And when I did, she would put both of her hands in mine, and then wiggle up close to me until her forehead was touching mine, and she would try to sleep like that. It was a little sad, but it was beautiful.

And it made me think... If I feel it this deeply when my daughter has a cough and can't sleep, how would I be able to handle it if something was seriously wrong? My cousin's little boy had leukemia. I can't begin to imagine how that would feel, how I could try to care for her in that. I just can't get my mind around it. It would be devastating.

And (here's part III) today, at work, I saw something kind of cool. We had some network issues - I guess a router went down. So one of our IT guys came out from Lausanne to fix it, but since they needed some replacement hardware, he had one of the guys from the hardware people come out to give him a hand.

Now, this guy is usually very quiet. Not that he won't talk, but he doesn't choose to talk much. But once those two got together... wow. He was chatty, laughing, making jokes, and just generally showing a kind of confidence that I've never seen him show before. It was really cool. It was really, really different.

And that made me wonder. Is he just usually quiet because nobody around him really speaks his language?

And how many people around me every day are in that same situation, where they just feel like they can't be themselves because they don't really believe that anybody gets them? How many people never get to really open up? Tricky.

It's a lot to think about when I'm jet-lagged and running on a couple hours' sleep. But still, worth thinking about.

Tomorrow.

I WIsh

That I could legitimately make "y'all" a regular part of my vocabulary. I love it.

The American Dream

So, in between preparing for the training I've been giving and trying to get rid of a virus on my laptop (if you get an email from me with a subject line of "VERRY IMPORTANT ATACHMENT! OPEN RIGHT A WAY!" you may want to proceed with caution), I have managed to delve slightly deeper into the American consciousness.

And here's what I've found.


I know that everybody says it, but it's true. The food here is just huge. I think I've finished 1 meal here (a sandwich) since I arrived. Almost everything I order seems to come family-sized. Which would be great, except I didn't bring along a family.

While I've been eating this food, I've noticed, again, how nice it is to be hearing familiar music (and by "familiar", I mean not rap and not in French). I like it... music with people singing in tune, with real guitars and drums. I hadn't realized how much I miss rock until I step back and think about how relieved I am not to be surrounded by euro-pop. It's like getting out of a stale room, somehow. It's good.


And everywhere... space. The streets are wide apart. The restaurants have miles between the tables. There are some apartments, but there are a lot of houses, even as I look into one of the business districts of the city outside of my hotel window. There's just a lot of room, and I can see why Europeans who come to Canada or the US for a little while find that so intoxicating.


The flip-side of this, though, is that I haven't been able to get a very good feel for the city. Most places I've worked, I walk everywhere. So I know how Milan or Munich or Zurich feel. I have a sense for the people, the pace, the architecture. But here, I kind of get the feeling that I'm just missing it. I guess it's a place experienced by car, not by foot. And that makes me sad.

Not sad enough that I can't make up for it with a burger the size of a small child, though. Not by a long shot.

I Have A Cold

... and I'm giving training to a room full of people. It's good - I like that a lot of people are there to hear me (it makes me feel popular, and is cheaper than standing outside the cinema offering to buy tickets for whoever wants to come in). But it's tiring, and when talking is tough and thinking is tougher, doing the kind of training I'm doing can be a bit of a challenge.

Nonetheless, I am going to give it my best shot. Or something approaching it.

The other thing is, I miss the little chick. A lot.

People ask me a lot about being a parent, what it's like, how it feels. And the fact is, it's not easy. It's also draining, and when she wants attention, she doesn't really care if I have a cold or not. But it's love... an unending chance to show and learn love, and, sometimes, even to have it returned.

So I miss her. I wish I could put her on my shoulders and wander through the streets singing with her. I wish she was close enough for me to take pictures of. I want to hear, "Daddy play, too?". I want to sing her to sleep.

Soon.


In the meantime, I'm going for sushi.

U. S. of Eh

Well, I'm getting over jet-lag and am ready for a good week. Here are my first impressions of Texas:

1. Disturbing lack of Texas hair - frankly, I was expecting more... more bangs, more back-combing, more... well, more. But the hair here is pretty much like hair in most other places I've been. It's not bad, it's just a little like getting to Hawaii and realizing that not everyone wears those grass skirts all the time. It's a sobering kind of experience.

2. Jesus lives here - there are a lot of churches. And ads (billboards) for churches. All different kinds of churches, including one that I was on the way in from the airport that said "Get empowered to win!". I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to be winning, and it would be presumptuous of me to assume that it's going to be more closely related to a new Lexus than it is to, say, patience developed through enduring difficulty. I don't know - maybe it's about football. Hard to tell, just from a sign.

3. It's tough to get in - it took me 90 minutes to get through the passport control at customs. I don't know if the people in my line were all nasties, or if the guy who was checking them just liked to be extra-thorough, but it was a long, long wait. Lots of checking, and then phoning, and then stamping, and then more phoning and checking. I will say this, though - by the time I got to the front (after finally changing lines), the guy who checked me was friendly. And the guy doing the luggage check on the way out was like one of those dancing traffic cops you see on TV, only with luggage carts and customs declaration cards, instead. He was pretty cool.

4. My name's Steve and I want to be your friend - yes, I'm back in the land of "gratuity not included in price", which means that, once again, I'm popular. Everywhere I eat, people want to get to know me. They want to know how I'm doing, where I'm from, if I'm having a good time. All of which would be pretty cool if I wasn't paying them for it, which makes it seem just a little bit seedy. But not entirely... the people here do seem to be pretty friendly. Hearts as big as... um, Texas, and all that. I'm wearing a watch that I haven't worn in a while, and the clasp was a little bit loose. There's a mall attached to my hotel, so I found a shop this afternoon (yes, on a Sunday) that sells the same brand, and asked if they could tighten it up and move one of the links from one side of the bracelet to the other. And they did. With a smile, and no charge. I like that.

5. Land of the free, depending on what you're looking for - yeah, they get a little freaked out about dangerous things like Cuban cigars (as everyone knows, cigars are always the first step in a revolution), but they are refreshingly non-intrusive on other matters. I saw a guy on a big bike without a helmet. At first I was really confused, then then I just thought, you know, it's his head. Why not?

6. We're gonna make you buy - the stores are huge. Okay, it's Texas, and a lot of things are huge (I had wings last night that, I'm pretty sure, were from turkeys. But, they were playing a hockey game, so all is forgiven, and then some), but the stores are remarkable, and, after being in a place where I only shop at stores I can walk to for a long time, a little overwhelming. And the advertising is a bit over the top (or OTT for my British friends). I heard an add for a used car lot, specializing in selling flash cars to people with "less than perfect" credit. It's called Shabana motors, and if you go there, you are not just buying a car. You are getting Shabana-tized. And no, I kid you not. They actually said this, out loud, on their radio add. Tasteless? Yes. Absurd? Certainly. But you have to admit - it takes a lot of guts to come right out with something like that. I give them an "A" for heart.

It still freaks me out that everyone is speaking English, and that the tables at restaurants are far enough apart to actually walk between. But it's good. I think it's going to be a good couple of weeks.

Abandoning My Principles

All of them.

I got an iPod.



And I figured you would find out, eventually, anyways, so I may as well just come clean with it.




Fire away.

Traveling Man

Well, I'm home again, but just barely. I got back on Saturday, and head out again tomorrow morning to be working in the US for a couple of weeks. I've been more or less on Calgary time since getting here, so it won't be too hard to re-adjust, I hope. Packing is easier, since I'm not quite completely unpacked yet. Hooray.

I've spent the day with an also jet-lagged little chick... she wasn't around on Monday, so I took today off instead, and when she gets it, I can see a bit of a family resemblance: she gets a little weepy, isn't quite sure what she wants to eat, and wants a lot of cuddling. Thankfully, all things we can deal with. I think that "Hug!" was the word that she said the most today, and I figure that for a two year-old, that's not too bad.

The reason I thought of writing this (besides the fact that it's been way too long and I need to get in the groove of posting again) is because I saw a really interesting guy on the train. He was talking animatedly to the man next to him, gesticulating all over the place, and they were both laughing. Then (I guessed - I was listening to the new Carrie Underwood album) his phone rang. And he had the coolest case on it... it looked like a wooden, fold-up measuring stick, what they use here instead of tape measures. He talked some then put it away. Then it went again. And again.

And again.

And, eventually, I realized that it wasn't a phone camouflaged as a measuring stick. It was a measuring stick.

And he was crazy.

Still, he was fun to watch. And I couldn't help but wonder if train isn't, perhaps, the perfect form of travel - at least in Switzerland. I mean, when you drive, you never get to see crazy people. Either that or, if you happen to be related to one, you see a little too much of them. On the plane, there are far fewer than on the train; or maybe it's just my Geneva-Lugano route - it could be that if I was flying NY-San Fran I would meet a few of the more interesting kind.

So, I'm off tomorrow morning. In seat 24c. And I'm hoping to get someone with an imaginary cell phone in 24a, mostly just cause I can't imagine how the attendants would handle it...

7,000

On January 2nd, to mark the start of a new year, TYC had its 7,000th visitor. Not counting, of course, you guys who use a subscription service to read instead of actually logging on. I mean, you don't count as far as the number I know about, but as far as I'm concerned you still count just as much in a metaphysical kind of sense.

You know, just so you're not worried or anything.

Thanks for reading, everybody. And you too, Mom.

Whistling

...is kind of like playing solitaire on the computer; they're both probably more fun to do than to be a spectator for.

Superstar Hair Challenge

I've managed to squeeze in a little bit of TV while I've been back with my parents. Some of it has been no good. I've been sad, still, that the food network somehow continues without either the original Iron Chef or David Rosengarten. All of it has had WAY too many commercials.

But some has been very good indeed.

And I like this one - the superstar hair challenge. It's like American Idol, but with hair. It kind of makes me wish I had a better haircut. It kind of makes me wish I had some friends who were hairdressers, though I'm afraid the lisps and constant brandishing of thinning shears may get to me after a while. But mostly, I just love that they take it very, very seriously.

I can't wait to get back to Geneva. I may not get it done by a superstar, but I'm getting a wash and a cut. Less dramatic than the "freestyle showdown", but I'm going to enjoy it. Cool.

Happy New Year

Original, huh? Nonetheless, I hope it's a good one... for all of us. And I'll be updating more, soon. I promise. Until then, have an egg-nog for me. Or, better yet: I'll have the egg-nog and you can do a half-hour run for me. If only it were that simple...

Do It Like This

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

Usually

If you're wearing sunglasses and holding an umbrella, one of the two is inappropriate. Usually.

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:

• 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?

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.

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.

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.

Why Is It

Button fly: no problem at all, ever.

Zip fly: "does anyone else feel a draft?"


Rats.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

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:

1. Time is not on your side - if that sun is going down, you better already be where you need to be
2. 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.

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.

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.

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.