Movin' with Hubris

Like the old saying goes, "If you want to know who your friends are, move."

I guess I'm Hubris' only friend because we've got a cube van mostly loaded with all of his stuff, and it was only the two of us.

I'm sore from a few dozen trips up and down the stairs to his apartment. My hips are complaining big time, and we have to do more of the same tomorrow morning. Ow. The only consolation at this point in the game is the large belly full of delicious Chinese cuisine.

Hubris doesn't have friends at the telephone and internet companies for instance. Not only are they NOT helping him move, they're completely baffled by the idea that their customers actually change residences occasionally. The truck rental joint isn't much better. They told me on the phone that our truck would be available at 3 pm. As it is, we had to wait until 4:30 to drive off with the moving vehicle.

Oh well. Such is life. Most people scurry away like cockroaches when the kitchen light comes on at the mere mention of moving day. I don't mind helping out, but I feel too old for this merde any longer. I should stop being so friendly and leave this moving business to the younger crowd. But then again, if I wasn't helping Hubris move, I'd have nothing to complain about. It's a fair trade.

Grendel is a wee conehead this week. He got a cut on his elbow, and he's been going after it a bit too much. He's healing nicely, so there's no need to worry.  

Burp

Baked tilapia with garlic and rosemary,
Long Grain Rice
Garden salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing
Chateau Puyfromage 2003
and
Toronto tap water through a brita

What's not to like.

Huh?

You are

What Rejected Crayon Are You?

Must Escape

What does a guy have to do to escape for a few days?

Every time I've attempted to have an extended long weekend this summer, I've gotten sidetracked and haven't been able to get away. The Hillside Festival doesn't count because I have to take on a part time job while I'm there. I'm talking about sitting on my ass and being able to do it for the whole four or five days. I was looking forward to hanging out with the Paperguy and his wife at one of the best beaches in Ontario. You think I could get away? Not a chance. To add insult to injury, the Paperguy called to tell me how much fun it was, and how I'd have been delighted with the reappearance of all sorts of wildlife in the park.

As for me, I got stuck in Toronto again. I drove north to Bracebridge for a day... to attend a funeral. I'm not griping about the funeral of course, because it's one of those things that you have to do. "If I don't go to your funeral, you'll probably skip mine!" It's just annoying to cancel long-awaited plans at the last minute due to familial obligations.

My partner is having all the fun traveling around the country these past few months, while I've been stuck in the city waiting for an opportunity to bugger off. So far, it's not happening. This self-employment thing is getting on my nerves. Microsoft Products don't really break on a set schedule. I've just got to be ready for the call whenever it comes. The fine hardware that MS products run on doesn't give me any warning either. The sound of my cell phone haunts me.

For once, I'd like to disappear without the worries. It's a never ending pain to make plans, and then have to change them at the last minute. I'm going to go mad if I have to cancel my labour day camp. I'm hoping to finally get to sit on my lazy ass and watch the grass grow. Is that too much to ask?

The most irritating thing about the self employment game is that I don't get paid if I try to have a life like regular folks. The economy abhors a vacuum, and someone else will take the job if I don't get to it. I read stories about the French getting four or five weeks per annum for vacation while us North Americans are happy to make do with two weeks or less. The incidence of stress related illness in France must be much less than it is here in Canada.

I'm going to sulk now and do some breathing exercises. See you on the beach!

Leofest 2006. The post party garden raid, hosted by Hoot and featuring the BVSC, Othercat, and the Gals from Guelph.  

Lunatics Abound

I was enjoying a cup of decaf at Timothy's in the village. Grendel and I hooked up with Sassinak. We had just come from the Trinity Bellwoods park. We were watching the fire-breathers and listening to the throng hammer away at their drums. As I looked south, with my drink in hand, I saw the full Sturgeon moon just above the rooftops, and for the moment I couldn't think of the name that was bestowed on this particular full moon.

Thank goodness for the Farmer's Almanac. They're up on this sort of stuff, and I found the link to Full Moon Names page. It was bothering me that I couldn't remember the name. Everyone knows the Harvest Moon, but the other 12 or so full moons of the year are largely unknown. I suppose it's just another sign of our modern distance from the natural world. We don't observe things like our ancestors did.

My favourite example of this tendency is something my mum told me many years ago. In the Beaver Valley lies an abandoned stretch of road that went by the name of "The Mile of Seven Corners", not far from where my mum was born. The road has since been moved and straightened a bit, and the old name fades because we wouldn't bother to name it. We'd go flying by in our automobiles and perhaps we might notice that the road was winding a bit. During my mum's childhood however, the slower pace would have made everyone take notice. People observed things. People had time to look at the sky and the environment. It wasn't just a stretch of winding road. It had a descriptive name.

I'm thankful that I've inherited some observational skills from both my parents. My dad taught me to look at the world at large. Take in the big picture. I give him credit for my curiosity about the world at large. My mum, on the other hand has an eye for the little details. I have had the pleasure of hiking in the bush with her, and while it's a slow going process, we are rewarded by my mum's observations and recollection of a large number of the plant names along the trail. It's something we could stand to emulate rather than just dismissing things out of hand without looking at them closely. You probably know the old admonition to "stop and smell the roses."

When I am forgetful about the details, as I was last night, I catch myself and try to refresh my memory. Thank goodness I know enough to know that I don't know everything. The world is a fascinating place, and I wouldn't want it to pass me by, especially when it's so well lit by the Sturgeon Moon.

Spotticus Maximus 1991-2006

The old feline has made her way to the Great Catnip Patch. After all the trials at the vet last month, Spot didn't really regain her usual lust for life. She stopped eating and only through the use of subcutaneous fluids were we able to keep her properly hydrated. She had a little bit of fight in her when it came to dealing with Grendel. The throaty growl of the aggrieved feline let us know that Spot was still in the game.

I'm much more bummed out than I thought I would be. Spot never really was much of a people oriented cat. She and I got along alright, but she didn't really warm to many other people and even less so to her two quadrupedal housemates. She never really liked the Othercat, and she certainly didn't like the wee canine. It took Spot years to like Sassinak Spot was just a little more choosy than the rest of us. Sass is a genuine cat-person, and it's easy for most people and animals to like her.

She had 15 healthy years, and she got some love and affection from me when she really needed it. I have been agonizing over the decision to part company with the old kitty for a while now, and no matter how much preparation you make, it's still a shock to see a once vibrant cat get old and sick. Despite her reserved and sometimes caustic nature, Spot was my pal.

We walk in the door to our homes, and the first thing we do is look for our pets. Where are they? Are they happy to see us? Do they give a damn? It really doesn't matter because at the end of the day, you've always got a friend if you've got a pet in your home. I still look for the Othercat and Strobelight and they've been gone for years. I am sure I will have visions of Spot lying in her favourite place for a while.

Spot, the Othercat, Strobelight, and Sandy, and all the other pets I've known have come and gone, and still a little piece of them is still around. Thank goodness for the persistence of fond memories, because that's all that's left now.

Adieu Spot, and thanx for the memories.