I Hate Christmas

I really do. I try to like it, but inevitably the day turns to shit. Why can't it just be a day like any other? I'm tired of nasty comments directed my way by people who ostensibly love me. I'm tired of people talking about me like I wasn't there. I'm tired of greedy little children. In retrospect, I'd like to retract my last post. It's not good to be home. I'm tired, tired, tired of staying up til 1 in the morning just so I can have the place to myself for a little while. I'm tired of Mackenzie peeing on the toilet seat, never putting it down, waking me up every single morning at the feckin crack of dawn, teasing my dogs, and acting like a boob every night at dinner ("mom, why do you love me so much?") Gag. For the love of god, I'm trying to eat here... I'm so very, very tired of always having to tell him to behave himself, with absolutely no lasting results. And if I have to listen to the theme song for the Berenstein Bears one more time I'm gonna have to go find a bridge to jump off of.
So maybe I'm a grinch. or scrooge. No wait. They, after all, "saw the error of their ways", and realized just how wonderful Christmas is. A prevailing myth in our society. That's never gonna happen with me. And that's because Christmas has nothing to do with love and peace, it's about blatant commercialism and revisiting all the reasons why family members hate each other. So here's my promise to myself, my solemn vow: next year I will be somewhere far, far away from here at Christmas time. No tree to set up, no relatives to put up with, no stress of pretending I give a shit when really I don't.

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So good to be home...

Well folks, I've made it through the first half of the year... For a while there I wasn't sure I was gonna (and I'm trying to ignore the fact that the next half is more sort of like the next two thirds). So far so good, haven't failed anything. Despite the occasional mid-class argument, my inability to not speak my mind, and my tendency to stomp through life in oversize steel-toe boots (that's me, all the grace of a backwoods logger). I'm so glad to be back home in Deroche, land of neighbours-who-know-far-too-much-about-my-business and children-who-don't-care-about-my-privacy (or for that matter their own privacy -everyday I wake to the sound of Mackenzie taking a leak, cause for whatever reason he doesn't feel the need to close the door to the can. so i lie in bed and listen. wait for him to go back to his room. then yell at him to go back, flush, put the damn seat down, and wash his hands). Today was Alexandra's birthday, can't believe the little monster is seven already. Children are rather awkward in that they are a daily reminder that time truly is passing and that you're getting old. If the kids weren't getting bigger (and sometimes it seems like they get bigger by the second), I could conceivably look in the mirror and see the same person who was there five years ago... Not that I regret aging (hafta admit it beats the alternative) it's just that I'm starting to feel it. Maybe. Just a little. And I gotta say it doesn't help when a 6 year old asks you your age and then says "wow, you're REALLY old" when they hear your answer. Although I also kind of think it's the fact that since I'm no longer hanging out with people a decade younger than me that my rather hasty regression to my very early twenties has made a sudden about-face. In any case. This is about nothing, and apparently it's going nowhere so I'm just gonna stop. One of these days I'm gonna set up my Mac and get connected to the internet. One of these days. Until then, no pics from me. Sorry.

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Freaky Coincidence

This dude looks like he could be my nephew Danny's twin. Freaky. Not that Danny would drive a Jeep Liberty. But still. Freaky.

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The Worst Mark Ever

So. Got an assignment back yesterday. Only got 66%. That's the worst mark I ever got in my life. Ever. Well barring my high school chemistry provincial, but in my defense I slept through most of it. I'd like to believe that I would've done way better than 51% had I actually been conscious and writing the exam. But I digress. Back to the here and now. I knew I did a shit job when I handed in the assignment, so I can't even say that I was surprised by the 66%. But it still sucks. I should have handed it in a week late and sucked up the ten percent off I would have lost. Oh well. Coulda, shoulda, woulda. Hopefully I've got it out of my system now. Life is too short for bitter regrets. I'm not too sure which of my pictures best conveys bitter regret (ok, so I know that none of them do). As such I'm putting up a picture of the man who gave me the shit mark. And perhaps (just for shits and giggles) I will go out and try to photograph bitter regret one of these days. Maybe when I have a spare moment that isn't being eaten up by school and my crackbook addiction.

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Damn you Crackbook, Damn you...

So. It would seem that at least two of my three quasi-regular readers have abandoned me for crackbook... The only person commenting on my blogs these days is some crazy-assed lunatic leaving rude messages. A pox upon your house crackbook! I hate you. And as for the crazy-assed lunatic, why don't you go crawl back into the slimy pit from whence you came. Oh, and a pox upon your slimy pit I guess... And now time for my confession:

My name is Solomon, and I am a crackbooker. It has been a few minutes since I last went on crackbook...

Wish I could say I felt better for having said that, but somehow seeing it in writing makes me feel worse. I have no idea what picture would go well with this post, so I'm just randomly choosing the above. Now that I only have one non-commenting quasi-regular reader left I suppose it doesn't matter anyways. And as for you, oh crazy-assed lunatic, you can keep your nasty thoughts to yourself.

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12 Solid Hours

Gitche Manitou loves me. This I know, cause last night I slept 12 (mostly) solid hours for the first time since I don't know when. I went to bed at 9 (quit laughing, I was tired) slept til about 4, woke up feeling like shit, went downstairs passed out on the couch, slept til it got too light out, went back to the loft and slept til past 9.
And yes, I admit that with this post I have reached a new low in my blogging history, but dammit this is a news worthy event... As for the pic, it's Hornby Island and completely non-related...

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Sleepless in Comox

So. It would seem that I just can't sleep in Comox. I really can't figure it out. I've tried everything from taking massive quantities of sleeping pills, to taking a long walk every day, to changing my bed around so my head is pointing in another direction. I swear to Gitche Manitou. You know shit's bad when you try something that lame... I suppose that not sleeping would be all good, but for the fact that it's starting to seriously damage my calm. I actually got in an argument with a teacher last week. It invovled the ENTIRE FECKING CLASS (she said, hanging her head in shame). Even worse than that, I've started to tell people what I really think. Not a good idea at the best of times, never mind when I'm perpetually cranky-assed from severe lack of sleep... I've had to apologize to several people in the last week... And on a bit of an aside, I think that maybe I've been spending too much time with twenty year olds (they're really nice kids for the most part) and that I've started to regress. Every day that passes I feel just a little bit less like the mostly functional adult that I know myself to be... So. Anyways... Guess that's it. I'm running on about four and half hours sleep right now, and I'm going to Tofino with some people from class today, so I should probably start getting my shit together... I'll try to take some tolerably o.k. pictures to post this time... As for this post's picture it's of the beach across from my place. Sorry it's not a better picture. Actually, in the spirit of saying what I really think, I'm not sorry. The picture sucks, and I don't really give a crap. If you don't like it just move along. Feel free to register a complaint.

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Cracked in the Head

Sometimes I feel like my brain is a hamster on speed... Like right now, for instance. I've been awake for the last 20 hours, am still wide awake despite less than 5 hours sleep last night and the ingestion of more sleeping pills than can possibly be safe... Here I sit, brain running in circles, like a hamster in a squeaky wheel. This must be what going absolutely, totally fecking mad feels like...

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Giving Thanks

So. Thanksgiving. What to say, what to say. I suppose for starters, I went home for the weekend (and cut class to do so), spent an obscene amount of money on a digital SLR and a couple of lenses, and then spent most of the weekend running around trying to take care of all the crap that has piled up since I was last home, which I have to say is deeply unsatisfying when all I really wanted to do was see friends and family... One bright spot was my brother and his wife crapped out on work today, which meant that we actually had a Thanksgiving dinner of sorts, although no turkey for us. Oh no. Some weird sort of pot roast recipe, not that I'm complaining, it was delicious. And I didn't have to cook it, so it was twice as good. And of course pumpkin pie... My birthday usually falls on the holiday, weirdly enough not this year (on a bit of an aside if anyone I know is going to be in Comox next weekend please, please, please stop by and see me so I don't have to sit around by myself drinking tequila all alone on my birthday. I implore you), but the pie was for me (I always get pumpkin pie for a birthday cake. Always. Cause my mom apparently doesn't see the need to make two desserts. Never mind the fact that I was deeply traumatized by this when I was a child... try to imagine what a little kid feels like getting a pumpkin pie with a single solitary candle set in the middle... it's wrong I tell you, WRONG). And I even got a birthday gift from Mackenzie, a 1981 dime (which is worth like, 12 US cents). So all in all (if one ignores the massive debt incurred whilst shopping for camera shit) it was a winner of a weekend. I am still trying to figure out my new camera, and the battery in my little point and shoot is dead, so no pics for this post. The video is my nephew Mackenzie doing a little dance. I know it's sort of apropos of nothing, but I thought it was kind of funny. He's taking hip-hop dance lessons at the Y, although I don't know if that's where he picked up this move... And before you all complain about the fact that the video is sideways (what, you thought I hadn't noticed that myself?) I did try to fix it in windows movie maker (or whatever that dumbass program is called) but then youtube didn't recognize the file format, so I tried to fix it on my mac, and can't figure out how the feck imovie is supposed to work (whoever said macs are easier to work than pcs is full of s h i t) so anyways the upshot is the clip is sideways. So turn your head to the side, or turn your monitor sideways, or just don't watch it... Whatever, the choice is yours.

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Across the Island and Back

So I did end up going to Long Beach last weekend, with a nice long stop at Cathedal Grove... Don't quite know what to say about the whole trip, except of course that it's definitely worthwhile if you've never been yourself. I took a borrowed Bronica camera with me, but I suspicion that somehow I loaded the film wrong, I suppose it'll all come out in the wash. If there are no pictures when I develop it I'll know I did something wrong... I did bring my little digi though so there are pictures, sad and pathetic though they may be (it occurs to me I should quit putting crappy assed pictures I took on this blog). In any case. I'm just gonna say that it's impossible to capture the scope of that place on a point and shoot anyways. The picture above is a big assed dead tree at Cathedral Grove...
I'm happy to say that I'm growing fond of Comox, although more than anything else I think it's the island itself that I like. This town is full of really, really old people (not that I have anything against that per se as I plan to get there myself someday) who take naps at four way stops in their cars (seriously). That in fact is perhaps the most annoying thing about this town. It's full of four way stops, and no one seems to have the slightest clue exactly how they work. They just sit there. And sit there. And sit there. So I just go anyways, because I figure fortune favours the bold, and I always seem to be in a great tearing hurry. There are also alot of deer wandering around town, which seems perfectly normal to me now, although it took a bit of getting used to. They're not at all afraid of people or cars. Last week on the way to a shoot I watched a six point buck stop at the side of the road, look both ways, and then use a designated crosswalk to get to the other side. No word of a lie...
In any case, I should probably be somewhere taking pictures, or developing pictures, or printing pictures... As for this weekend's trip, I've got a line on a camera in Esquimalt that I really want, so I guess it's a journey down south for me. Maybe I'll stop in Coombs on the way back to see the goats on the roof...

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The Republic of Cortesia

Well folks, I'm slowly getting used to life in Comox... Didn't think it would ever happen, and I find myself spending too much time moping on the beach, but still... At least there's a beach upon which to mope. School's ticking along just fine, and I'm learning alot... I've decided to make good use of my time on Canada's extreme left coast and see a bit of the island while I'm here. In that spirit, today I headed off to Cortes Island, which I believe is the very first Gulf Island I've been to. Strictly speaking though I had to cross Quadra to get there. So my second. Always assuming my swiss-cheese like memory is correct. Which it quite possibly isn't. But anyways, my brain cramps up when think too hard so I shall not belabour the point (any further). In any case. Back to Cortes. What a little slice of heaven that place is, although I imagine that if I lived there all I'd ever want to do is leave. But I am a rather perverse person when it comes to these things. Never happy with where I'm at, always looking at something shiny just out of reach. Which is what took me to Cortes in the first place. And I'm just writing in circles here. Apologies to all three of my quasi-regular readers (the rest of you princesses can just suck it up). I've decided that Sunday shall be travel day (school permitting), and I will attempt to visit a different location every week. As I started off with a rather obscure island for my first trip, next week I'll go all touristy and try to hit Tofino and Long Beach. And next time I'll remember to bring my digital point and shoot. No pics for this post as I was shooting for an assignment in black and white, and have to develop my film and print pictures (much of which remains a big mystery to me). And of course assuming that anything I shot is worth looking at. I don't really favour the odds of that... Not that my teachers aren't good. Quite the opposite. For those of you who might be curious I've posed links to my teachers' websites in my "Miscellaneous Links" section. I'll add others when possible...

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A Weekend in Deroche

So... Had a whole three days off school last weekend and had to take advantage of the opportunity to go back to Deroche. I was immediately plunged back into the drama that is home. It was a final chance to swim in the lake, an opportunity to harvest some of the food I grew in the garden, and as it turns out, also an occasion to bury two of my ducks
As oft mentioned before Geordie is not a good dog, and he lived up to his reputation for severe badness this weekend by killing both Giselle, my much-beloved little brown duck, and Thyme my gorgeous new drake.
Top it all off with a headbutt to the nose, courtesy of a six year old (who shall remain unnamed as I must maintain plausible deniability in case the body ever surfaces), and you have one hell of a rough weekend...
Final score:
Dead ducks: 2
Possibly fractured noses: 1
Geordie: still batting 1000 in the badness category
And the winner is... Well, certainly not me (she of the painful red nose), definitely not my ducks, and probably not the six year old.
Yep. Geordie McNab the Horrible is, as always, the ultimate victor. An additional 387 bonus points to him for chasing the cat into the duck pond just before I left to catch the ferry Monday morning.

As for the picture, it's the sunset as I left the island.
The video is of the ferry ride home...

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Landing in Comox

Well folks, it's official. I've landed in Comox. Ever been told to look before you leap? Coulda, shoulda, woulda... I've been feeling pretty depressed since I got here, I'm guessing it's because I have yet to make any friends. I'm trying to remain hopeful that things will get better. Still. I'm wishing I was back home, or that at the very least, that home was not a $53 dollar (one way) ferry ride away. Three days down, a few months to go. Probably not the best way to look at things, but there you have it. There are 11 other people in my class, 2 guys and the rest (by default) women. I've only met one professor, a fellow named Paul, who seems nice.
So that's it I guess. This probably the dullest post I've ever written. Dull, dull, dull. But that's just how I feel right now. So damned depressed I don't even feel like taking pictures. How ironic. Or perhaps just moronic.

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Buddha in a Teacup! I've Been Tagged

Thanks Care... Now all I have to do is think of 8 interesting facts to tell the world (by which I mean my three quasi-regular readers) about me. Which should be no problem. If only I could possibly quit agonizing over exactly what other people might find interesting. This would be way easier if I could just confess 8 weird things about me. But here goes nothing:

1. I own two turtles with French names (Henri Boivin and Pichou) and I usually only speak to them in French. I really couldn't say why though... Henri, who is now 12 years old (and by all appearances will live forever) likes to listen to me play my violin. I think that he and my own ever-loving mother are the only two creatures on earth who do.
2. I love to travel. Quite possibly above and beyond all other things. I like to travel so much that I would be willing to sacrifice good paying contracts if they interfered with my plans. Current plans include the Inca trail in July and then Leh, Tibet and Rajasthan in Sept/October 2008.
3. I almost drowned in Ecuador in 2005. Then I went white water kayaking later on that same day. For the first time in my life. Which I know points to the fact that I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Although I have to say I do not really fear death. Not that I am in a particular rush but I do believe in fate and reincarnation, which certainly takes the edge off worrying about when and how I will kick it.
4. I have absolutely no feckin idea what I want to do when I grow up (which technically speaking I'm supposed to be by now). Right now I think that maybe I might want to be a photographer. I have also worked as a translator (boring), a communications coordinator (too many meetings, too much bullshit, and way too much stress), and as a tour guide (I just ended up getting all jealous of the vacationing people I met everyday on the job). I think that what I really, really want to do is be independently wealthy. I just have no clue how to get there. I also would like to write, but so far this blog is about all I have managed (beyond work related publications).
5. I love animals. Just about all animals, even animals of the ugly, non-cute, human killing, foul smelling variety. My brother found a rat at work and kept it, and although in the normal course of things rats kind of make me shudder I've still kinda fallen in love with Pinky. Even though he bit me once. When I was younger I wanted to be a vet. Probably should have followed up on that...
6. I think men in kilts are totally hot. Although I suppose I should qualify that a bit. Physically fit men in kilts are hot. And on a bit of an aside I really like the sound of bagpipes and would like to buy some and learn to play them. I collect musical instruments from the places I travel, and by now have quite the assortment ranging from a mouth harp to a charango. And all they do is sit around and collect dust.
7. If I hear a song two or three times in a row it is stuck in my head for just about forever. Which can be really, really annoying. Like right now I keep hearing Elvis singing Suspicious Minds... "So if an old friend I know, drops by to say hello"....
8. I live with my rather large extended family, which I love but which also drives me absolutely feckin nuts. I mean, honestly, while I was writing this I had my nephew Mackenzie hanging off my elbow asking me about whether or not the turtles poo, and if they did poo where was it, and what does it look like anyways. I tell you, children are not for the faint of heart. Don't get me wrong, I love kids, and kids for some odd reason like me. But when I finally have some of my own, should that day come, I am so totally going to let other people (you know, those women who see little babies and get all doe-eyed and mushy and start to talk baby talk) take them off my hands and do the nasty stuff like changing diapers, or feeding and burping them, or take them out trick-or-treating and the like.

So that's it I guess. Don't really know who else I could tag, I suppose Amn. Although I wouldn't be shocked if he totally ignored this...

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A Little Rant for August

I went to go see the movie Stardust on Thursday night. I thought it was pretty darn good, and the scenery was amazing. Incredible. I'm gonna find out where it was filmed and go there someday. There've been alot of fantasy movies out lately, but this has got to be the best since Lord of the Rings. In any case. Loved the movie. I really did. But it would seem that I have some latent feminist bra-burning gene which I heretofore would not have suspected, but there you have it (or rather, I have it). Can someone out there please tell me why women in movies are always:

• shallow and conniving (like the chick the hero of this movie lusts after, at least at the beginning)
• evil (like the evil witches, of which there are several in this movie)
• helplessly controlled by other, evil women (such as the hero's mom in this movie)
• incapable of saving the world (or themselves for that matter) without the love of a good guy (like the beautiful not-shallow chick that the hero finally falls for by the end of this movie)

Why, why, why? It's total horseshit.
Well I guess that's it. August's rant.
Wish I could say I felt better for having written this. But as Mahatma Gandhi said: “You may never know what results come of your action, but if you do nothing there will be no result”.
Hence the blog.

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Chasing the Fraser

So. Last week I made my annual trip north up to Prince George. It has been so long since I travelled anywhere (not including last week's rather insane 21 hour round-trip jaunt to Comox to secure lodgings for the year...) that I was happy to embark upon a full day's drive. My two eldest sisters both live in the PG area (hence the annual pilgrimage) and I wanted to see them before making the leap to Vancouver Island in two weeks. As I am currently overwhelmed with tasks to complete before moving, I had to keep it short and sweet. I slept in on Friday, so didn't get on the road terribly early, and of course ended up taking no pictures on the way up. I raced the Fraser all the way back down to Deroche (it's kinda cool we live on the same river, even though it's an 8 hour drive to get there), but did stop once or twice (and occasionally just slowed down) to snap some pics. So for those of you who wonder where the world-travelling, picture taking Solomon disappeared to, she's back! O.K, so this isn't as exotic as Ecuador, as intriguing as India, as novel as Nepal... Sorry, got a little carried away there... Still, it is travel related... After a fashion. Feel free to ignore all family pictures.

Saturday night was sushi night

My sister Anita with her husband Yvon, and their daughter Michelle with her new guy Mike


My nephew Danny stopped by his mommy's on his way to a wedding so she could iron his shirt... oh, and to see me too. He let me drive his brand new 2007 Mustang.

Nita's dog Sophie

My sister Becky and her hubby-to-be Randy
on Sunday night (which turned out to be steak night)

Her boys Evan and Gavyn

Their seriously drooly and one-eyed dog Angel

Two rather rude looking mushrooms in Becky's yard. Sorry. Couldn't help myself.

Moose poo. Sorry. Once again. It's just that when I saw it
I thought of those little cans of "moose turd" candies that
Parks Canada sells in their souvenir shops.

Ahhh... Is there anything more beautiful than a pulp-mill sunset?

I love the long drive through ranch land...
Which reminds me, I was at the StupidStore with my sister,
where they were playing "Where have all the cowboys gone?".
While the song was on, I counted no less than 7 guys wearing either
cowboy boots or hats, or both. Apparently the answer to that question is PG.

One of my favourite stops, The Chasm near Clinton B.C.

There's a row of these old buildings near the Ashcroft junction. I have no idea what they were used for or when they were built.

Marble Mountain, just above the town of Lytton where the Thompson and Fraser Rivers join.

The mountains at the south end of the Fraser Canyon.

This tree has been defying gravity my entire life...
Every time I drive past I expect it to be gone.

Ruby Creek, as seen at a speed of about 80 km/hr. It is the scene of one of the most infamous Sasquatch encounters ever recorded... So I didn't linger. Or slow down too much.

And on a final note, just to make this feel more travel-ish here is a video of the road through the canyon...

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The Return of Geordie

Thanks to everyone for their kind thoughts for Geordie. He is now home again, although I was reminded again that he is "not yet out of the woods", due to the fact that his intestines were opened up, potentially releasing strong bacteria into his body. He is on a special diet for the next fourteen days, along with two kinds of antibiotics... And of course he is sporting the ever fashionable "buster collar" which he has been using as a sort of snowplow to push things out of his way... If he can make it through the next few days without developing an infection, or tearing his internal stitches, or losing any of his stomach staples (there are twenty-three, he kind of looks like frankendog) we should be on the home stretch. Since bringing him home from the vet's yesterday afternoon, I've called no less than four times to ask questions about things (is his poo supposed to be technicolour yellow? what time should I give him his pills? how much can he eat, 'cause he thinks he's dying of starvation?). They've been very nice to me, and haven't (overtly) laughed at any of my questions. But then again the bill was $2099.40, and I think that at that price clients should get a free pass on as many dumb-ass questions as they like, for at least the next three years...
I know that all three of my quasi-regular readers must be thinking how crazy I am to have spent so much money on the pup. But what can I do, I didn't know how much it was going to cost. And to be honest if told at the beginning, I would have said go for it, even knowing that there was a good chance that the surgery might fail. I guess the way I look at it is that I chose this dog, he didn't choose me. That being the case, I feel that it's my responsibility to do everything within my power to ensure that he is healthy and happy.
I got a new camera the other day, and the battery's charging at the moment. As such there will be no photo for this post. Instead I thought I'd share some facts about Geordie that you would never guess just from looking at him:

• his ears smell like honey
• he loves to sleep beside the toilet (I don't get it either...)
• he has ten nipples (which I previously didn't know or care about, but now that his belly has been shaved they are very obvious)

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Poor Wee Geordie

Yesterday morning I noticed my young dog was not feeling so good. I called the vet and made an appointment for the afternoon, but within 15 minutes of hanging up the phone he was so sick he couldn't stand up. Realizing there was something seriously wrong I rushed him to the vet and asked if they could see him as an emergency. After sitting in the office for 10 minutes or so, the receptionist turns to me and says: "you know, we really can't see him you should take him someplace else". So I did, in fact going to three more clinics before I found a vet willing to listen to me (the receptionist at the first place said "he doesn't look all that sick to me"). He examined wee Geordie and realized his intestines were knotted up, which as I am sure you can imagine is very, very serious. So serious in fact that he didn't want to waste time taking an X-ray, which only takes seconds. The vet had actually left a surgery to come and see my pup, and literally picked Geordie up and carried him into surgery to try and sort things out. He made no promises that it would end well. Miraculously we got him to the doctor's in time to save his intestine, as the vet had originally thought that he'd have to excise the knotted part and then join the two healthy ends. Unfortunately he had developed a raging infection in his intestines from the blockage, and he is still in hospital getting fluids and antibiotics intravenously. I went to see him this morning and he seemed so much better than he did yesterday after surgery (when he could hardly blink his eyes). The vet has told me he's not out of the woods yet though, so I am asking my three quasi-regular readers to please pray to whatever gods or deities that they might believe in that my poor wee Geordie recovers soon. We are in your debt...

The irony of the whole thing is what had blocked his intestines was the ear off of his little lambie squeak toy, which according to the label is an "approved dog toy". For all you dog owners out there, please be careful what you give your dog, even though rawhide bones are gross and smelly and disgusting, at least your dog can digest them if they get ingested. This the ear the doctor removed from Geordie's insides:

And on a final note, even though I really try not to say unkind things about others in my blog, I would very much like to tell that dumb bitch at the first vet's office that if she knows that the vet there cannot see an animal on an emergency basis, she should bloody well say so when they walk in the door, and not ten nerve-wracking, is-my-dog-gonna-die? minutes later.

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The Truth As I See It

Someone forwarded me this email the other day. At first I just deleted it, but really it made me angry, and I feel that I have to speak out. What this person (whoever the original sender may have been) is proclaiming as "truth" is nothing but racist intolerance.

Subject: FW: Australia now - Canada tomorrow? Australia Now, Canada Tomorrow?????? Excerpts from an on going debate in Australia. This is true and can be checked at http://www.snopes.com/politics/religion/australia.asp Muslims who want to live under Islamic Shari law were told onWednesday to get out of Australia, as the government targeted radicals in abid to head off potential terror attacks. A day after a group of mainstream Muslim leaders pledged loyalty toAustralia and her Queen at a special meeting with Prime Minister JohnHoward, he and his Ministers made it clear that extremists would face acrackdown. Treasurer Peter Costello, seen as heir apparent to Howard,hinted that some radical clerics could be asked to leave the country if theydid not accept that Australia was a secular state, and its laws were made byparliament "If those are not ! your va lues, if you want a country whichhas Shari law or a theocratic state, then Australia is not for you", he saidon National Television. "I'd be saying to clerics who are teaching that there are two lawsgoverning people in Australia: one the Australian law and another Islamiclaw that is false. If you can't agree with parliamentary law, independentcourts, democracy, and would prefer Shari law and have the opportunity to goto another country, which practices it, perhaps, then, that's a betteroption", Costello said Asked whether he meant radical clerics would be forced to leave, hesaid those with dual citizenship could possibly be asked to move to theother country. Education Minister Brendan Nelson later told reporters thatMuslims who did not want to accept local values should "clear off.Basically people who don't want to be Australians, and who don't want, tolive by Australian values and understand them, well then, they can basicallyclear off", he said. Separately, Howard angered some Australian Muslims on Wednesday bysaying he supported spy agencies monitoring the nation's mosques. Quote: "IMMIGRANTS, NOT AUSTRALIANS, MUST ADAPT. Take It Or LeaveIt. I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending someindividual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Bali, we haveexperienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Australians." "However, the dust from the attacks had barely settled when the'politically correct' crowd began complaining about the possibility that ourpatriotism was offending others. I am not against immigration, nor do Ihold a grudge against anyone who is seeking a better life by coming toAustralia." "However, there are a few things that those who have recentlycome to our country, and apparently some born here, need to understand.""This idea ofAustralia bei! ng a mu lti-cultural community has served onlyto dilute our sovereignty and our national identity. And as Australians, wehave our own culture, our own society, our own language and our ownlifestyle." "This culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles,trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom" "We speak mainly ENGLISH, not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese,Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to becomepart of our society .. Learn the language!" "Most Australians believe in God. This is not some Christian, rightwing, political push, but a fact, because Christian men and women, onChristian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented.It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. IfGod offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world asyour new home, because God is part of our culture." "We will accept your beliefs, and will not question why. All we askis that you accept ours, and live in harmony and peaceful enjoyment withus." "If the Southern Cross offends you, or you don't like "A Fair Go",then you should seriously consider a move to another part of this planet.We are happy with our culture and have no desire to change, and we really don't care how you did things where you came from. By all means, keep yourculture, but do not force it on others. "This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, and OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allowyou every opportunity to enjoy all this. But once you are done complaining,whining, and griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our Christian beliefs, orOur Way of Life, I highly encourage you take advantage of one other greatAustralian freedom, 'THE RIGHT TO LEAVE'." "If you aren't happy here then LEAVE. We didn't force you to comehere. You asked to be here So accept the country YOU accepted." Maybe if we circulate this amongst ourselves, Canadians will find thebackbone to start speaking and voicing the same truths ! This could apply to all of our Immigrants' both Legal and illegal If you agree , please SEND THIS TO EVERYBODY YOU KNOW! If you disagree hit the delete button.

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a communist;

Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a socialist;

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out -because I was not a trade unionist;

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out - because I was not a Jew;

Then they came for me -and there was no one left to speak out for me.

-Martin Niemoeller

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Happy Birthday Nathan (old man)

So. Apparently all I've been doing lately is staying in Deroche alot, kind of cut off from the real world, and acting all hermit-ish and reclusive. But Sunday was Nathan's 30th (ha! you were mad about the sign on the wall. now my three quasi-regular readers know how old you are too), so off I went to the Big Chill to help celebrate. By eating macaroni salad, ice cream cake, shooting the shit with friends, dodging balloons launched by Bodey and sadly declining the cinnamon schnapps and all other alcoholic offerings as I had to drive myself home. Which is just about the most excitement I've had in weeks. Ever since the haunted house incident now that I think about it. And yes, upon reflection, I realize just how truly pathetic my life seems thank you very much for thinking that thought just now as you read this. Feel free not to comment. It would just be too depressing.
But anyways.
Nathan thinks he's old now, and is mourning the loss of his twenties. Which makes me wonder what the hell I'm doing going back to school at an even older age... I swear to Gitche Manitou that nothing makes you feel more decrepit than a younger person complaining that they're old...
I suppose I should count myself lucky that just about everybody I meet thinks I'm at least a decade younger than I actually am... But in my experience all that means is I get carded when I try to buy a carton of milk, and really, I don't get the respect I deserve.
But I shouldn't whinge. Time will cure all I suppose.

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The True North Strong and Free?

A small preface: I usually steer clear of any political stuff in my blog, not that it doesn't interest me, not that I'm not informed, just that I think diversity is good and people should form their own opinions. But.

Did anyone else listen to good ole Stevie make his Canada Day speech today? I almost choked on my honey-nut shreddies when he started mentioning God... Not that I don't believe, and not that I care what he believes (or anyone else for that matter). But do we really need to bring this up in official government speeches? In a multi-faith, multi-cultural country? Are we turning into the U.S.? Is no one else concerned?

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Justifiable Dog-icide

So. It would seem that Geordie has heretofore unsuspected depths of badness. Today as I was returning from a friend's the little monster suddenly took it upon himself to go the other way. Which would have been all good except I was going really fast. On my bike. And was oblivious to his change of heart until I was flying through the air in a pretty good if somewhat short-lived imitation of Superman. To make matters worse I was not wearing my helmet, which required some pretty funky moves to keep my melon from smacking the asphalt. I managed to skid to a stop on my right elbow, which would have been fine except that in doing so I sprained my shoulder pretty bad.
On the plus side, now I have an excuse to sit around and do nothing. On the downside, I can't pull up my own pants without inducing severe pain... But I guess life's like that. Six of one, half a dozen of the other... No matter how you slice it, I figure I'm lucky. A friend of mine fractured two vertebra last week, and I'm glad not to be living that.

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Midnight Rambles

So. Went to see Rise of the Silver Surfer tonight (which I thought was better than the first Fantastic Four movie, not that that's saying much) with Nic, almost ran out of gas on the way there and arrived with seconds to spare. Since we had no time to visit before the show started I suggested we hit Timmy's afterwards but Nic (being Nic) had a better idea. His cousin (or aunt or something) was camping at a certain location not far away, and would I like to go see her (bearing in mind it's nearly midnight). I'm not entirely sure I had ought to say exactly where the place was, suffice it to say it is a place known for hauntings and people have odd and disturbing incidents there in broad daylight. But hey, it's Saturday night and what else is there to do in this neck of the woods. So we head up there and find his aunt (or cousin or whatever) and she suggests a stroll through this place (she must work there as she had a key). And I'm thinking no way. Except I'm even more disinclined to stay outside on my own. And everyone is kind of laughing at me, but Nic grabs onto my hoodie as we walk down the hall, which completely creeps me out during the day, never mind after dark (the hall that is, not Nic grabbing my hoodie). I swear to Gitche Manitou I still have goosebumps. Thinking of smudging before going to bed...
Sorry there's no picture for this post, but as I question the legality of the evening's activities perhaps it's for the best.

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Has It Really Been a Month?

Wow. I just realized that I haven't written for a month. Also I gave my blog address to someone who bought eggs from me at the Farmer's Market, forgetting what my last post was about. Doyle, if you read this, please disregard the post about the eggs. I'm sure that weird egg was just the last gasp effort of one of the old hens, all of which have since been sent off to the auction (where I like to believe they were bought by a kindly old lady who will take the home and knit them sweaters or something equally warm and fuzzy).

So. I'm sure you're all (that's right my three quasi-regular readers, I'm addressing this to you) wondering what has happened in the land of Solomon since May 22. Not much, is the answer, but I'll update you nonetheless. So here goes in no particular order:

My brother shaved off his beard for the first time in years.

Geordie has grown bigger (and I suspect, badder as well). Here he is with some pilfered ice.

I rode a horse (on purpose).

Which gave me an excuse to unearth these from the back of my closet (there are other, far scarier things in there).

My sister and her boys came to visit. Here's Becky and my mom:

Gavyn, age 13. With his Buddha. Which I couldn't explain even if I wanted to.

Apparently he just can't make a nice smile for the camera. How 13 of him. He's far handsomer than one might suspect from these photos. Honest...

Evan age 11.

And with Gavyn's Buddha.

Here's three generations of hands.

Also, Ana and Mackenzie have become friends despite the fact she calls him Ma-gunjee, and when he's not around she refers to him as "just an extra boy"

I picked lots of salmonberries.

And made various jams and jellies to sell at the Farmer's Market.

So that's it, really. Nothing too exciting just life as usual. It's odd, it seems that the less I do the less I want to do, and less efficient I become. Needless to say, I have yet to find a job. I thought I had something lined up but it has fallen through, so back to the search (which now feels like a hopeless quest). I am hopeful that I will be off to school in September, but as it is not yet certain, I'm not exactly gonna go find an apartment and put down a deposit and all that, which makes me worry that I'll be forced to live in a ditch somewhere in Comox with several thousand dollars worth of camera equipment. On the plus side my band has sponsored me for school, drastically reducing the amount of money I'll have to beg, borrow or steal to make it through the year. I am truly blessed.

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Eggs

I do not like eggs. Not on a boat with a goat in the rain, etc., etc,.etc... It's not that I don't eat eggs, as they are rather hard to avoid, but I really just can't enjoy them, especially if I think about what it is I'm eating while I'm eating it (if that makes any sense at all). I think it has something to do with knowing where they come from (ever seen a cloaca?). If I don't think about what it is I'm eating, and if I'm hungry enough, I don't mind hard boiled eggs, or hard fried eggs, but eating runny yolk? Yech....

So you're probably wondering why I suddenly felt the need to share my dislike of all things eggish.

Two days ago, when I was collecting the eggs I found this:

What, not gross enough for you? Here's a close up:

And these things come out of the ass end of one of these:

So think about that when you're eating your breakkie.

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Tickety Boo

My cat Boo has disappeared. He hasn't come home for 48 hours, and while it still seems very unreal to me, I must assume that he is dead, most likely the victim of a coyote. There have been many coyotes around this year, and Boo was forever off in the field across the street hunting for mice. I hope his death was quick and painless. He was one of my Fort Langley kittens (just about the only good thing I took away from that place), and it is hard to look at the other two and not see him curled up with them on the couch. I hope I stop missing him soon.

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Don't Shop at Fraser Valley Building Supplies!!!!

Some days, I feel as though if it weren't for bad luck, I'd have none at all. Of course this isn't true, I am in fact one of the luckiest people I know, but as I am sure you all know there are some days when things just go sideways on you... Last Thursday was exactly that kind of day for me. I had to buy some cement to set post for my gate. I went as usual to Fraser Valley Building Supplies in Mission. Would that I had gone to the Rona. But no. As I drove into the stock yard at FVBS the gate slammed down on my hood, leaving behind a dent and a long scratch. The lady who works at the kiosk in the stockyard begged me not to yell and scream at her, and told me that it happens all the time, and that the store had had to pay to fix someone else's car in the past. Now, to be honest, I think that the accident was regrettable, but not unforgivable. I went into the store to the customer service desk, and the lady there called someone for me. The guys she called actually went out and looked at my car before they even spoke to me. How rude is that? They were very adversarial from the beginning, and one of them had the gall to suggest to me that my car was so old and ugly that it was hardly noticeable at all, and that it was just a scratch and it could be buffed out. Now, for those of you who have never seen my car I can tell you that it is neither old nor ugly. It's a 6 year old civic in very good condition, but that hasn't been washed for about a month. It's spring in BC, so of course it has a layer of road dirt on it, but it is far from a decrepit old beater.
In any case, the guys didn't promise to fix it, but told me to go to an autobody shop of their choice to find out the extent of the damage, which I did. Apparently they didn't like what they heard, and they offered first to pay half the repair cost, then when I said that was unacceptable, to pay the first $250.00. Of a $400.00 repair bill. For damage they were entirely responsible for. Heck, all I did was go to the store to buy $15.00 worth of cement. By the next morning, their offered had dropped to a mere $125.00
They were so contemptuous and rude that I will never shop there again, never mind the circumstances. From the very start, they set out to make me feel as though I was the one at fault, as though they were doing me some kind of favour by tossing $125.00 at me. Well I can assure you that $125.00 hush money is not enough. I wasn't expecting anything more than a sincere apology, and an assurance that the gate would be fixed. Perhaps an offer to pay my insurance deductible. Had they done so, they would have retained my custom. As things stand now, I will go out of my way to not give them my business. And I can promise you that over the course of the years this will cost them far more than the $400 it would have cost them to repair the damage they caused to my car. I ask that all you fair-minded, hardware shopping British Columbians who read my blog join me in my boycott of Fraser Valley Building Supplies, and head to Rona, or Home Hardware, or Home Depot instead.

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Just What I Needed

A couple of weeks ago I went to Surrey to buy two Indian Runner ducks. It took forever to find the place, and when we finally got there it was a nightmare. When we pulled up, I swear to god that no less than a dozen kids under the age of 10 came streaming out the door, none of them looking as though they'd seen a wash cloth for at least a week. The smallest one had snot and dirt crusted on her face, and one of the oldest threatened to steal my car... There were also several older kids watching out the window, and two men and a woman. I actually felt sorry for the ducks that they'd been living at this place. After a long (not too sweet smelling) ride home, I put them in the duck house. It took them a couple of days before they would go outside in the pen, and I thought they'd never get brave enough to follow my ducks out into the wild blue yonder every day (they are free range and can really travel - I've found themmore than a half kilometer away from home). As the Surrey ducks were very similar looking, I felt they needed names that went together, and so it was that Laverne and Shirley became members of our duck flock.
And then today, while I was digging a new septic line (that's a whole 'nother story folks), my mom's friend calls to tell me she's found some ducklings for me.
Yay! 5 more ducks (and these ones are still so young they are "special needs"). Definitely just what I didn't need.
But Gitche Manitou works in strange ways.
Besides they're awfully darn cute.
Should anyone out there now of any good duck names, I am open to suggestions, having named 15 or so ducks in the last four years. Names that go together would be good. I've had Thelma and Louise (sadly both deceased), and Tom, Dick and Harry-ette (apparently she was not a drake after all)...
The picture here is of the newbies. They are currently living in a dog crate in the spare room...

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A Farewell to Ad

My old uncle Addy passed away last week. He was 91 years old, and the last living sibling of my maternal grandmother. I hadn't seen him in at least two years. I wish now that I had more of an effort to keep in touch over the years. My earliest memories of uncle Ad are from my childhood years in Burnaby. He lived on Duthie Street, right behind my grandparents place on Yorston Court. Looking back now I know that uncle Ad wasn't really all that old at the time, but to me he never appeared to get any older than he was in my childhood, maybe just a little more fragile with the passing of the years. When my brothers and I were young, uncle Ad was something of a favourite with us, probably because every Christmas he would make us an absolutely fabulous gingerbread house loaded with candy. During the summer, we'd sneak through the gate at the back of the garden and visit him -he always seemed to have lime popsicles in the freezer. I hadn't seen very much of uncle Ad in recent years. He and aunt Margaret had long since moved from their Duthie street home (which, like many other older homes in the area was torn down and replaced by a much bigger house). I did visit occasionally, and once they made the long trek out to Deroche to visit us. I was always struck by just how much he looked like my grandmother -perhaps another reason why I was fond of him. I wish I had gotten to know him better as an adult -that is to say when I became an adult, and not just as a figure from my childhood. I know I will miss him, as he was the final connection to that generation of my family
Sadly "Bad Geordie" has eaten the cord to my scanner, so a photo of uncle Ad will just have to wait until I can justify spending my money on such a trivial thing. He's also eaten the cord for my camera, various bits of clothing (he favours socks), the rug, his dog bed, a rather pricey (and might I add, brand new) pair of runners...

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Change of Pace

So. You're probably (yes, I am addressing my three quasi-regular readers - you know who you are) wondering why it is that I felt the need to change my blog template. Well, it was just too brown. Although I think this template is pretty pissy too, they just don't have a nice shade of green to use, and I'm too damn lazy to design my own template. So there you have it. Knowing me, I will have changed it back to unimaginative brown before the end of the week...

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Everyone Keeps Asking

People keep asking me about my pictures from my trip. I did do a slideshow on Snapfish, but for some reason that's just too complicated for certain individuals... So here's a slideshow for my blog, and also all the emails I wrote home while I was away, for those who didn't get them but (oddly enough) wanted to.

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First Email Home...

Hi everyone,
This actually the second time I've tried sending an email to you all, the power went out just as I was finishing my last sentence this a.m... But hey, now I have even more fascinating details to relate about my trip... Just kidding, nothing too exciting yet. By some miracle of god (by the by, I have been informed that the Hindu religion has more than 36000 deities and gods -can this be true???) I have yet to be killed in traffic. It is quite possible that it is the plethora of gods that prevents more people from being killed here in traffic. Note to all those who might be considering a trip to India: before going in an auto-rickshaw at dusk, make the driver turn on the headlights so you know for sure they work... Lesson learned... Scariest 56 minutes of my life to date... So far I've seen a Jain temple, Sikh temple, and more mosques and tombs than I can count. Rode a Delhi bus, and only one guy tried to grope me. Don't know if I should be insulted or grateful... Met a nice guy today who has "travelled many times to Vancouver kind mam". He even told the name and address of some dude he knows on Schoolhouse rd in Vancouver. An odd moment to say the least... Also got totally ripped off by a rickshaw driver, started to get angry, and then realized that it amounted to about 20 cents difference in the price... Nothing much else to report at this time. Leaving for Agra tomorrow at a hideously early hour.
I shall attempt to write something fascinating and infinitely more intriguing than this next time.
Cheers,
Solomon

Second Email

Greetings one and all,
Well I am still alive and kicking. I'm having a good time so far. Everything here is dirt-cheap (and oddly enough usually quite dirty). I am currently in Kajuraho, famous for it's "erotic" temples (if you call a man having sex with a horse erotic - I would call it horse abuse but hey...probably just being all hung-up and western). I had my birthday in Orchha yesterday, and my guide Vinit (about three feet tall and far too energetic than can easily be explained) somehow conjured up a cake for me. The weather is hotter than is normal for this time of year. Most days it's up over 30 and the humidity is high. Not much else to report. I am right sick of eating curry, so tonight we're going out for Italian "spegetti" cooked by a real live Italian "chef" supervised by some dutch guy (if the restaurant sign is to be believed). I just hope it doesn't turn out to be noodles cooked in some weird cumin sauce... I had chicken chowmein in Agra that was made with curry-chicken... Only in India.
I better go, this is costing my a whole 40 rupees per hour...So until next time everyone. Feel free to write me if you are bored, or want to waste time at work. All contact fro home is appreciated.
Cheers,

Solomon

Third Email

Hello one and all,
Not too much to report from this side of the globe... I am at the end of my first tour, tomorrow I head back to Delhi, and the next day I fly on to Kathmandu. I have absolutely fallen in love with India, and all the chaos and madness of the cities here. Went on a cycle rickshaw down to the ghats last night, almost tipped over twice and (as is par for the course here) got rear ended countless times... Just stepping out onto the streets here is an act of faith... Varanasi is by far the most polluted place I've been so far on the trip. We went on a sunset cruise, and then a sunrise boat trip this morning. Everyone knows how polluted the Ganges is, but until you see it you cannot possibly fathom how disgusting the water is. We passed by all the ghats, watched people at their morning prayers, all the wash-wallahs, and people preoccupied with mundane daily tasks like brushing their teeth... While on the other side of the boat a dead water buffalo floated past, a crow picking out it's eye... Nette that nice little visual was for you (you did mention something about capturing a moment for you)... Nowhere else in the world but India.
Sorry this email is short on humour, but I am a bit sad to be moving on to Nepal. I'm glad I'll be coming back to India again before I go home. I can't for the life of me remember why it is I didn't feel like leaving home to come here (as I did feel as I got on the plane in Vancouver).
I shall try to write more when I get to Kathmandu.
In case I miss the opportunity to write again before the 21st, a very special mention to my brother Gabriel and his wife Leah who are celebrating their wedding on October 21st. Congratulations to both of you, please know that you are in my thoughts. I love you both.
So cheers until the next time, the next email will be funnier (I hope), and filled with my (slightly censored as this is going to my mom too) adventures,

Solomon

Fourth Email

Hello one and all,
I hope that this email finds you well. I am having a superlative time over here in Nepal. I have by some strange co-incidence arrived right smack in the middle of Dipawali, which I gather is some sort of religious ceremony that requires devotees to crowd into public places, ride their motorcycles in circles, bang drums and cymbals loudly at random hours, and set off fire crackers at 3:47 in the morning... Oh, and I've seen some painted dogs, which would have seemed normal in India but I thought I'd left that kind of craziness behind...
The trip to Nepal was stressful to say the least, I'm glad I was able to travel with someone from my first tour, otherwise I'm sure I'd be huddled in a corner of Delhi Airport having a nervous breakdown... What an absolutely insane place. We must have passed through at least 5 security checks before we got on the plane... And lest you think this makes air travel in India super-safe, they let an old biddy onto the plane with no less than three exceedingly sharp-looking pairs of scissors...
Tomorrow I am heading off at an ungodly hour to go to Chitwan National Park, where I shall have the opportunity to ride an olly-phant and look at rhinos... I know, I know... You're all burning with jealousy... I'll bring back photos.
Ooh... I'm sitting in a cyber cafe (Namaste Cyber) that overlooks the main square in town here, and apparently Dipawali also includes people doing Kung-Fu/Karate type demos to loud music and a rapping/chanting child... Wish I'd thought to bring my camera... but it looks like he's done now anyways... back to the cymbals... no wait it looks like he's going to break some bricks with his pinky or something... I feel compelled to head out there and have a closer look... I shall write more later, although I can't say exactly when that might be... I'm not sure the olly-phants will have email access.
cheers,

Solomon

Fifth Email

Hello one and all,
I am now in Pokhara which, if you believe the guidebooks, is the second most visited place in Nepal. I guess it's a nice enough place... There's a lake here, this afternoon I plan to rent a kayak and paddle off into the blue yonder. I got up at an absolutely ungodly hour this a.m. go watch the sunrise on the mountains (it was very pretty) and then, no doubt as a result of oxygen deficiency, decided that it would be great fun to hike back down the mountain to my hotel... Five hundred million slippery stone steps later...
In any case my time in Nepal is coming to an end, soon I shall be back off to India. I have to confess that overall, I haven't enjoyed Nepal as much as I did India, although I can't exactly say why. I did get to ride an olly-phant, and I did indeed get to see a rhino, which oddly enough didn't seem to mind people sitting on an elephant right next to it... Freaky, if you ask me. I will attempt to add a picture, but make no guarantees. Not much else to add. The entire country seems much quieter now that Dipawali is over. But I suppose even the Nepalese must at some point in time quit painting their dogs and get back to the daily grind...
I guess that's it for now. Sorry this email is neither edifying, nor entertaining. Please feel free to write back if you wish to waste time while at work... Or if you just have nothing better to do in your spare time between two and three in the morning...
Cheers,

Solomon

Sixth Email

Hello one and all,
I can't remember when it was that I last sent out a group email. I am now in Mandi, a small town in Himaschal Pradesh, which has little to recommend it, except that the people are friendly (if not for a kindly Sikh grandfather, I would never have found an internet cafe...)
Northern India is greatly different from down south, particularly in the proliferation of monkeys (they're everywhere). The roads are wind-ee and steep, and frequently blocked by landslides (today I watched three men trying to clear massive rocks by hand....) But I suppose there is no shortage of manual labour here. Wish I had something humourous to write, but can't think of a single even vaguely funny incident to relate. My tour guide this time round is an Aussie named Bill... Most of my tour companions are older... In any case I must go as this is costing me rupees...
Cheers,

Solomon

Seventh Email

Hello one and all, I am now in McLeodganj, home of the Dalai Lama (who isn't here at the moment). I am doing tolerably o.k., although I seem to have picked up a case of flu or food poisoning (whichever it is, I have become far too intimately acquainted with the toilet in my hotel room). I haven't had anything to eat for 24 hours now, and the nausea seems to have passed, maybe I'll try to eat dinner tonight... Just my luck, I get sick in the one town where the food's supposed to be good... Went to some temple that is supposedly attached to the Dalai Lama's residence yesterday. There were some kids playing, I asked one of the boys if he could turn another cartwheel and he punched me in the stomach (just before I got food poisoning... coincidence? I think not...). Apparently "can you turn another cartwheel" means "your mother is a chinese goat" in Tibetan... Live and learn... If the kid hadn't been less than three feet tall I would have smacked him back... So much for peace loving Buddhists... I was going to go and get a blessing form some other high-ranking Lama today, but apparently he went to Sikkim... Must be my winning personality. I come to town and there's an exodus of Tibetan Lamas... In any case I should probably go.. I'm here for another day, then it's off to Dalhousie, trekking for 2 days, Amritsar, and back home... I'm sure I'll write more email before I'm done... Until next time, Cheers,

Solomon

Eighth Email

Greetings one and all,
Well, this is the final update from India.. I am leaving early in the morning to catch my flight, so please think happy flying thoughts for me... I wish I could think of something amusing to write, but after spending all night on a train I just have no energy for that kind of craziness... Thanks to everyone who took the time to write me... There were times when emails from home kept me from giving up on this trip... In any case I'm off to go shop my final day away...
See you all when I'm home.
Cheers,

Solomon

So that's it. Hope you enjoy the slideshow...

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Dham Pure

So I'm sitting around watching American Idol (sprained ankle folks... it's my excuse, and while it may be flimsy, I'm sticking to it) and on comes this contestant dude with blond hair, and it strikes me that he somehow looks familiar. Not really, but kind of like he looks sort of like someone, I just can't think who. And of course I just can't let it go, so it's running around in my brain for a while and suddenly I realize who he reminds me of : the Pretender dude (the t.v. show, not the band). Which gets me to thinking, whatever happened to the Pretender dude? He just kinda disappeared. So (since I had nothing better to do and it required no walking whatsoever) I google the t.v. show ('cause I had no clue what his real name was), and it turns out the Pretender dude is called Michael T. Weiss and he is an artist now, which one can only assume is why he no longer stars in lame t.v. shows. Here's his website: http://www.michaeltweiss.com/

You're probably wondering why I felt the need to write about this. Wish I knew.

Since this particular blog is about nothing, I thought it would be good fun to include a completely non-related photo. So here's a pic from day 2 in India, at breakfast. Dham pure sugar. Sulphurless, healthy... the name says it all.

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Oops, I did it again

I sprained my ankle again, this time injuring the Achilles tendon where it attaches to the bone in the heel. I know, I know. Only I could sprain the same ankle twice in a two week span and injure it differently each time... It's a special talent I have, and it's taken me my whole life to date to perfect it. My doctor tells me that when you tear ligaments that it kills some of the nerves (in the ligament one must assume), so while you may recover strength in an injured joint you need to retrain the remaining nerves to react faster to prevent re-injury. Or something like that. He mentioned balancing on a medicine ball or balance board as ways to retrain these nerves. Sounds like just one more thing I'm gonna have to shell out cash for. But not until the cast comes off...

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A Brief Update on the State of Affairs

Sadly, I'm not having any affairs.

Sorry, a rather bad joke that.

So. Apparently I haven't written anything in quite a while. What can I say, there's nothing happening in my life these days that's worth writing about. Which is not to say that nothing has happened. In point of fact two once-a-year things happened to me all in the same 7-day span. Well, it's a 7-day span if you include tomorrow. Dammit. It's MY blog, and I'll include near-future events if I want to.
So. In any case. The first once-a-year thing that happened is I walked outside (in my typically untied shoes), stepped off the deck into a half filled-in post hole and severely sprained my left ankle (incidentally the same ankle I sprained in India only it was much, much worse this time). I fell over, and screamed my head off. My voice still hasn't recovered (to say nothing of my ankle). There I was lying on my side in the wet grass, clutching my ankle and screaming, all the while thinking: "I hope I didn't land in a pile of dog shit. I should have picked up the dog shit this morning. God, I have to stop screaming. Why am I screaming???? I hope I'm not lying in dog shit"... In any case, I eventually managed to stop screaming (I'm not too sure it was voluntary, my vocal chords probably just wore out) and crawled across the deck, into the house, to the medicine cabinet where (praise be to Gitche Manitou) I found an old bottle of Tylenol 3, then on to pass out on the couch. Not that I actually managed to pass out, but I tried. Thankfully I've made a fair recovery in the past few days, and I can almost sort of walk again.
Which brings me to my second once-a-year thing. It's election time for my band, which means the chief is heading west! That's right folks, my band is so wealthy (cough, choke, gasp, wheeze -I can hardly hold back the laughter) that every second year the chief and band manager hit the left coast and take the western band members (curiously enough all relatives of mine) out for dinner. Usually somewhere exceedingly expensive. To be honest I wish they'd just send each of us a cheque for $500 or so and just be done with it. But I'm gonna go, 'cause the food is good, and it's free. Plus I'm gonna drop some hints about wanting some more money for school.
So that's it. All the news that's new and exciting in my world. Oh yeah, and I've hired someone (and it cost an obscene amount of money) to train the damn pup. Of course, now I have to wait for my ankle to heal a bit. All things in good time. Oh and for a picture, since there is no photographic record of my stellar sprain-my-ankle-then-wonder-if-I'm-lying-in-dog-shit moment, I will put up a picture of Ana, who looks like she might have been having that very same "am I lying on something nasty?" thought when I snapped this pic.

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