jamesq | Entries tagged with crunchy toast

It’s above zero today, despite being, historically, the coldest part of the year. Kinda bad for humanity, but I might as well take advantage of it and get a decent walk in. The goal, walk around the neighbourhood once.

I went east. I should have gone west.

First problem, the green space I walk down had some dude and his daughter walking their dog without a leash. They were near, but not within an off leash area. To be fair, they were some distance away, and I got no indication that the dog had even noticed me, much less was aggressive. It did make me hyper-vigilant and anxious though.

Anyway, they went one way, and I went another. But now I’m tense.

I keep walking (towards an intersection that is controlled by a very long light), and see some random dude walking towards me. As I get closer, I see he’s waving at me. I do not recognize him. I’m not happy about random strangers engaging me in conversation, mostly because 90% of the time they’re pan-handlers.

He wasn’t a pan-handler.

As I walk by he continues to wave at me, while I scowl and walk past. This guy is not getting the message.

“How’s it going?”

Against my better judgement, I engage, instead of simply brushing him off.

“Why do you want to know?”
“Just trying to be friendly.”
“Hello. I’m fine.”

I turn to walk away.

“Do you need any money?”
“What?!?”
“Do you need any money?”
“No. I do not want any money.”

Ok, that genuinely surprised me.

By this time I’ve reached the crosswalk, and the dude is still standing where he was when I passed him. He has turned to face where I am, despite having been walking in the opposite direction. Neither crosswalk was indicating pedestrians could go, so I push the button to go west, since it will come on first in the cycle. Since I don’t really have a destination, I was going to go in whichever direction was going to go first, east or south.

The guy has not budged. He is about five metres behind me. I see him out of the corner of my eye. By this time I’m getting massive creep-vibes off him. I turn slightly so I can keep an eye on him. I’m not subtle about it. He is well aware that I am not letting him out of my sight. He approaches the crosswalk, but steers well away from me. Note that this means he has completely reversed direction for no apparent reason, except to go the same way I am.

“I’m… I’m just going to cross the street this way.”

He points the way I was going to go. I don’t respond. About a minute later, the light changes and he starts to walk across the street. I stay put and push the button to go south. He keeps glancing behind him to see if I’m following him. I keep an eye on him as I continue and he reaches a nearby bus stop just as a bus pulls up. He gets on and the bus departs. Not sure if he was trying to get away from me, but he picked the right bus to do so - the next stop is over six kilometres away.

I’m not sure what that guy’s deal was, but everything about his behaviour said he wasn’t “just being friendly”. He had an agenda, and I completely derailed his script. What was really weird is that I'm a Shrek-looking dude with resting-angry-face, and this dude was half my weight. That he approached me at all is frankly baffling.

Sadly, this made me brood for the rest of the walk, which is not the relaxing stretch of the legs and vitamin D that I was hoping for.

Oh, and on the way back, some old man in an SUV almost ran me over. Thankfully I was still on edge, so I stopped just short of it, as did he (I suspect my sudden stop is what suddenly yanked me out of his blind spot). His and his wife both visibly shrugged in a “what can you do?” gesture. Pay attention is my advice.

--- later edit ---

Consensus on Facebook is that he was either trying to sell me on Jesus, or an MLM. Given the "do you need money" query, I'm guessing the latter. Hopefully he rethought his life choices after encountering an ogre who didn't obey the script.

I was thinking about high streets. Every town in the UK seems to have one, often named as such, and it's where the local shopping is done. Or rather, was done before the advent of modern shopping malls. Where are Calgary's high streets?

A few caveats:

It needs to be a place where shopping is done.

But not a strip mall (though it might contain a strip mall, provided that's not the majority of its length.

It should be at least two blocks in length, thus eliminating the local grocery store.

By definition, it must be a street and not a stroad, of which Calgary has many.

Right off the bat, that eliminates 16th Avenue North, and MacLeaod Trail.

In Downtown, 8th Avenue is the obvious High Street. Nearby, I'd argue that the Kensington shopping district, Inglewood, and Bridgeland all could be considered high streets for their area. Farther afield, "downtown" Bowness, and Marda Loop.

Some other candidates? 19th st. NW around Dairy Lane might be too small (people might go to a thing on 19th street, but they do not go to 19th street. Or at least, not the way people go to Kensington). The two juggernauts of 17th Avenue SW and 17th Avenue SE are both stroads.

Any other examples?

While doing two minutes of research, I found out that Calgary has both a Main Street and a High Street. They're both in manufactured neighbourhoods in the deep south, albeit not close to each other.

People in Calgary use the term "deep south" to mean neighbourhoods in, well, the deep south of the city. But what distinguishes deep south from plain old south? Is Heritage deep south? Southland? Anderson? The best description I've heard was "anything at or south of Fish Creek park, which passes the smell test. Is there an official definition, or does everyone in Calgary just have an understanding of what you mean, in much the same way people know "big green dragon" if correct and "green big dragon" is not?

At one point, Calgary was built off of a Cartesian grid, centered on Center Street and the Bow River. The four quadrants going out from there. This means that you need to tell people the quadrant, lest they go to the wrong way. This happened to me when my bike was on the fritz and I had to get Murray to pick me up. "10th Street and 5th Avenue" unfortunately sent him into downtown, because he missed the qualifier "north-west". A few observations:

The logical center of the city is therefore the midway point of the Centre Street bridge.

You can have parts of the city that are listed as being in one quadrant, but are actually on the wrong side of the line. Broadview Road NW is south of Riverfront Avenue SW. West Springs, Patterson Heights, and Coach Hill are all south-west neighbourhoods that are north of the logical centre avenue. In fact, there's a 9th Avenue SW in West Springs that lines up with 9th Avenue NW in Briar Hill, despite avenues running east/west.

Similarly, Beddington is both east of Centre street (making it a North-east neighbourhood), and west of the logical centre street. This is because the road veers west once you get north of 64th avenue. In the (deep) south there are similar issues, owing to there being a Centre Street in the south sometimes, but not always, with MacLeod trail (which wobbles a bit) also being the dividing line.

Does anyone else find this stuff fascinating?

A neat game you can play, if you know an address on the old grid (and not the newer neighbourhoods that tossed out the idea of streets and avenues in favour of boulevards, drives, ways, and crescents) is to see what the other three corresponding parts are.

For example, my parent's house was on the corner of 19th street and 42 avenue SW. In the SE, that spot is in the middle of a freeway loop (near the Road King). In the NE it's the Port-o-Call Inn. In the NW it's a parking lot on Nose Hill.

It's easier the closer to the center you are. A friend's house in Mount Pleasant corresponds to residential neighbourhoods of equal age, but differing class in Winston Heights, Ramsay, and Cliff Bungalow. Though gentrification in these four inner-city neighbourhoods are erasing the class differences of each and making them all bougie.

Finally, according to Google Maps, going clockwise around the ring road will take 64 minutes, and you'll travel 99.1 Km. Going counter-clockwise? 99.6 Km. Assuming a perfectly circular city, that suggests the inner and outer lanes are 80 meters apart.

Vancouver is currently cut off from the rest of Canada due to having pretty much every rail/road connection washed out by floods. It might be possible to go through the states, but to do so would require going way out of your way, ~~and you’d need a negative COVID test coming back into the country~~ - The feds just relaxed this requirement for emergency travel.

Now I’m flying out to Vancouver for a weeks vacation starting on Saturday. And my timing seems to be somewhat serendipitous.

First, I booked the original flights when things were pretty quiet, and they were cheap.

Second, I managed to convince a friend to join me for part of it - I’m renting a two bedroom condo. Might as well make use of that second rooms since it’s not costing me anything more.

Third, Westjet has a business class called “plus”, and if they don’t sell their plus seats out, they let you bid on it the week before. These seats are pretty expensive, so getting one for a low bid is pretty good luck.

But the luck doesn’t end there. I was told I won the bid 1:30pm yesterday. By 6pm, everyone in Calgary who was planning a trip to Vancouver this weekend has discovered they’re not driving there. I bet there’s a lot of people scrambling to find flights, and I bet those flights are super expensive. Sorry Westjet, no take-backsies.

And I know at least two other person who were planning on exactly this. For the same reason (birthday getaway) even!

Anyway, I think this suggests the fates want me to have a good birthday, and that’s certainly plan-A.

ps. It occurs to me that I never did a post about my last trip. Maybe I’ll squeeze that out before this one.

I convinced Ger to join me on an excellent adventure. The goal was to go to Golden Rod Community Hall, about 20 minutes north of the city. Being moderately away from the city lights we could see the ISS fly overhead. More importantly, we could get some pictures of Comet NEOWISE. Ger brought one of his super-cameras so we could get some nice shots. Got out of the car after our half hour drive to discover that it was overcast. Well shit, I probably should have checked that before leaving the city. D'oh!

On the bright side, we encountered a lot of wildlife. On the way there, we saw some kind of undulating mammal that moved like a skunk, but was greyish-brown. A badger maybe?

In the parking lot of the we heard a bear*

On the way back I saw a deer in the road. It was in the other lane, but still managed to send a squirt of adrenalin to my heart.

Next up was an owl, using car headlights to hunt with. It grabbed something for dinner just as we drove by.

Finally, a red fox moving in the ditch.

As my companion said many times after discovering the sky wasn't cooperating, "It was a nice drive at least." Yes it was.

*or possibly a cow. I thought it was a cow, but Gerry said bears sound like cows. Also, he suggested we might want to get back in the car.

Current Location: Symons Valley Road, mostly.
Current Music: Flip Flop and Fly - Bill Haley & His Comets

The plan for the night was to watch The New Nicholas Cage does Lovecraft movie, The Color Out of Space. Short version: I didn't, but the night was not uneventful.

The first event was taking the train down to the theatre. I boarded an empty train and decided, due to the train's layout, to take a seat up front. There I found a cell phone sitting on the bench. As I picked it up, someone knocked on the window from without. I looked up to see (presumably) the owner of the cell phone gesturing towards me. I rushed to the door to open it and give them back their phone, but was too late as the driver deactivated the train doors and left the station. The guy made several more gestures, presumably for me to stop at the next station to wait for him. To hell with that, I had a movie to see.

It was a flip phone with no security, so I browsed the address book until I got to "Dad". Phoning dad and explaining myself, we arranged to meet in front of the theatre so I could return the phone. I needed to wait for two friend anyway, so as long as dad wasn't too late, this was not a problem. I also took a call from one of the dude's friends, and learned that his name was Dave. Which meets expectations, since the guy I saw at the station looked like a Dave. Dave's friend offered to tell Dave's wife, but I pointed out that that was unnecessary as I was awaiting Dave's dad.

Dave's dad showed up, and he did indeed look like the father of a Dave. The phone was handed back (along with an additional photo of yours truly) and all was well with the world.

Moments later, my two friends showed up and we entered the theatre to see if there was rush seats available for the show that was otherwise sold out online. As the line snaked up the stairs and had about 50 people in it, we opted to bail.

We then walked to Beer Revolution to enjoy a beer and some food and good company. There we discussed the SCA, the upcoming apocalypse, and the heat death of the universe. Perhaps most importantly, is what we are feeling clinical depression, or a rational reaction to the world we find ourselves in. Are they equivalent? This tells me that they would be good candidates for philosophy.

I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing, but one friend could not make it to the movie. As they are currently in a position of authority in the SCA and one of the friends who was there had some pointed things to say about SCA current events, I'm sure it would have been exciting. Maybe not enjoyable for all, but exciting.

Afterwards we took a walk downtown and the parted company with the promise of repeating the exercise in the future. Twas a good evening.

I'm am currently at home, enjoying the last of my bon bons from Chocolate Lab - which I'm 86% certain means "chocolate laboratory" and not the dog.

On Ask an Atheist day, Kathy asked "What's your favourite cookie?"

It's a complex question that doesn't have a straight answer. First, what is a cookie anyway. Is it a small baked treat? Is a Nanimo Bar a cookie? How about a two-bite brownie? Any definition of a cookie likely includes those, but I think most people would agree that those are not cookies. Is it as simple as definitions of cookie-like things getting spawned off the bite-sized baked treat platonic ideal?

Ok, enough waffling. Second runner up: My own chocolate chip cookies. They're delicious, and I love making them, but the reason I make them is because I love eating the raw dough, and if the question were what's you favourite cookie dough, this would be the hand's-down winner.

First runner up: Costco makes chocolate/caramel macadamia things that are roughly cookie shaped, but aren't marketed as cookies. These things are like crack to me, so I only buy them once a year. However, they're more of a chocolate than a cookie. This is why I was wondering about definitions above.

I'm having a tough time choosing between the following two, so I'm dividing things into categories.

Favourite mass market cookie: Pirate cookies! It was almost Dad's Goodie Rings, but Pirate cookies win the day.

Favourite bakery cookie: Sunterra Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookies. Sadly, they're big enough to be about 12 points, so I don't eat them nearly as often as I used to.

And that leads me to my all time favourite, beating out everything else: Peanut Butter cookies! Especially when Bruce makes them. But he doesn't bake nearly as often as I do, so I have to do with my 97.3% as good version most of the time.

As you may have guessed, I love peanut butter. I'll often spread some between two Ritz crackers. Quite a bit more than two, actually.

Note: Unless it's my birthday, don't buy me cookies; they'll just get in my mouth.

I decided to go try out a new brewery today. This ended up not being my brightest idea due to the weather, but fuck it, I still need to live my life regardless of climate obstacles.

So I found a car2go about half a km away and reserved it.  Got to it and brushed it off with my gloves, which managed to get my hands wet, and in -25C that meant they froze instantly.  Damn.  Got in the car and started it only to find that the dashboard was telling me that the rear brake lights were offline.  I sure didn't want to use the car with that missing - it being somewhat necessary under these road conditions.

Good luck - there was another vehicle 100m away.  I went to that one and it seemed in good working order.  Until I started driving.  Here the problem was either that these vehicles were either too light (They're Smart Cars) or they didn't have winter tires.  I didn't so much drive down Crowchild as glide down it.  This included running a super stale light at Kensington road (there was no way I was going to stop anywhere before the stop line) and then being immediately cut off by a truck  just as traffic ahead of me stopped.  I slammed on the brakes only to feel the car not stopping as I got closer and closer to the vehicle in front of me.  Being a reasonable sort, I had left lots of room ahead of me, and I ended up using all but a metre of it in this situation, swearing the whole way.  But I did stop without collision.

At this point, I decided that driving all the way to Establishment Brewing wasn't the smartest idea, so I veered off onto Memorial and parked the car downtown.  Did I mention that my hands were wet and frozen?  I discovered that the C-Train stations have heated shelters. Not as good as the ones in the 'burbs, but still appreciated.  I ended up chatting up the lady in the shelter as I held my hands up to the heating elements to warm up.  She'd have done likewise, if she only had the height.

Getting off at 39th Avenue station, I walked the last 400 meters to the brewery to find that it was a nice cosy location. I sampled their wares, had a second glass of my favourite, and chatted with the brew master about it.  Finally, I took a cab home, because I was tired of freezing and decided to throw money at the problem.  It will be nice to visit with friends, or in the summer, or with friends in the summer. It really is a nice venue and the crowds there looked civilized and drinkie.

Tears first pair of jeans.

"Shit. Guess I'd better get another pair."

Buys a 36 waist by accident. Tries it on at home anyway, in case the weight loss is starting to have an effect.

"Hrrrrrn. Nope. Not quite there yet."

Tears second pair of jeans

"This is an unsettling trend."

Buys two 38 waist jeans, from two different manufacturers. Tries on the first pair.

"Mmm. These flannel-lined jeans are my new favourite."

Tries on other pair of jeans, discovers that the waist is bigger than the reported size - by a lot.

"For fuck sake!!"

I haven't shaved since October 26, which is probably the longest I've gone as an adult. Basically, I hate beards and they hate me. In addition to being mostly white, due to my age, it's also fair, due to my being a ginger, and coming in patchy, for god-knows what reason. For about two weeks there, I looked unsettlingly like Harvey Weinstein, which wouldn't be a good look even without his being a monster.

Sean Connery Voice: I grew the beard so I could talk like thish

Sean Connery Voice: I grew the beard so I could talk like thish

So why am I doing this? Well, at first it was just that I didn't feel like shaving when I was on vacation. Then I decided to keep going for Movember. I also gave some money to the cause because it is a good cause. It's not just prostrate cancer, it's anything that affects men's physical and mental health. As someone who's had his own issues with mental health, this has become somewhat more personal for me. You should give them some money too, if you're able. I'm not registered with them, so you don't need to worry about me getting brownie points or anything. In other words, give because they're a good cause, not because of me.

I was about two weeks in when the beard started to really weird me out. It curled around and was long enough that it started poking me in the corner of my mouth. This lead to several days of me constantly thinking I had some food on the side of my mouth, and wiping it to find nothing there.

Four weeks in, I could start to see it at the bottom of my field of vision, which was even more annoying.

Anyway, November ends tonight, so I'm going to shave it all off soon. I think I'll get a deluxe shave from an actual barber, rather than randomly slashing at myself with a disposable razor. Some days you just want to treat yourself.

Current Mood: okay
Current Music: The Call - Tona Ohama

This was originally a long Facebook post. Sufficiently long, that I've decided to simply post it here to. Enjoy:

So here's what happened.  Craft Beer Market had two Brewmaster's dinners this week, one on Wednesday and one on Thursday.  The Thursday one was better in the sense that it had featured speakers on sustainability in the craft brewing market.  I'd have liked to have gone to that, but Thursday is philosophy night, and I wasn't getting the others to cough up $60.

Anyway, being better, most people opted for that one, and the Wednesday night one only had six people booked as of Monday. So Craft cancelled it and sent emails to those people.  Apparently, they did whatever they were supposed to do with Eventbrite to cancel the event, but it didn't take.

Tuesday rolls around and I decide to go.  After wasting some time trying to get someone to join me, I finally buy a ticket at the literal last minute.  Like, the website was telling me I had less than a minute to buy the ticket before sales close at six o'clock (of note, I was right, the event copy did say six o'clock, because Eventbrite doesn't sell tickets less than 24 hours before the event.

This afternoon, I get two notifications: One from my calendar, telling me the event starts at six (which I had entered manually), and one from the Eventbrite app telling me it started at seven.  I double check and find that it now says seven (it also said Thursday, but I wasn't focusing on the date).  Again, Eventbrite's own app was telling me the event was on *today*.- or rather, when I looked at the event copy closely, later, it listed both Wednesday and Thursday in different spots.
 

I leave work at six, run a few errands downtown, and head to Craft.  The hostess greets me and I tell her I'm here for the Brewmaster's dinner.  She tells me that it's tomorrow.  "Didn't you get the email about today's dinner being cancelled?"  "Nope," I say, double checking my email.

She's very apologetic, and immediately escalates it to management without me asking.  The Event Manager arrives.  She too is very apologetic, and offers to simply let me use my ticket for the Thursday night dinner instead.  Alas, I can't make it.  Questioning her about their refund policy, she assures me that I'll get a free refund.

Now that I'm home, I've clicked the appropriate links with Eventbrite to get my money back, and we'll see how that goes.

Good: Craft's staff managed a bad situation well.

Bad: Eventbrite need to improve their software.  At a minimum, it shouldn't allow me to buy tickets to a cancelled event, or remind me that it's happening when it isn't.  Oh, and if what Craft told me is accurate, they should let the venue organizers cancel events in a less confusing manner.

Tale One
In which our hero gets a stocking full of goodies which cascades into good fortune for all who live in Pepperland.

I spent Christmas Eve at home watching movies. I was was watching Die Hard (as you do), when my roommate Gerry walks in and hands me a Christmas Stocking full of goodies. "For you", he says, then goes back upstairs.

"Shit", I think, "I forgot to get Gerry a present."

I know Gerry likes whisky, so I decide to hit the liquor store for a last minute present. Right after finishing the movie. The movie ends just after 8pm, and I go throw on my shoes, hoping Ger won't notice me and figure out what I'm up to. Notably, it being after 8pm on Christmas Eve, all of my go-to liquor stores (the big ones with huge selections and knowledgable staff who can answer my whisky questions) are closed. Co-op Liquor, long closed; Liquor Depot, Ditto; Crowfoot, just missed it and I could see the staff inside avoiding me; Costco, wolves roaming the parking lot.

Notably, there are two liquor stores in Beacon Hill Mall. The aforementioned Costco, catering to the typical Costco crowd of suburbanite soccer moms, and Solo Liquor, catering to the dear-god-nothing-else-is-open-and-I'm-desparate crowd. Well in this case that was me.

They had a surprisingly good whisky collection for a store that had half its selling space devoted to pallets of Molson Canadian and Miller Lite. After looking at the assorted bottles for ten minutes I selected a 12-year old blended scotch called The Antiquary. mostly I chose it based on the ad-copy and the fact that it has a cool looking bottle. I might turn it into a decanter when Ger is done with it.

Finally, after about an hour of driving all over NW Calgary on a cold blustery night, I get home and wrap the bottle.

Christmas day rolls around.

Now it was the tradition of my family growing up that you could open your stockings on Christmas morning, but you couldn't open any presents until everyone had had breakfast. I was hungry so I actually forgot about the stocking. I made Ger and I pancakes and then I baked the cookie dough I had made the night before (it had to sit in the fridge for a few hours, and I wasn't going to do any baking at three in the morning).

Finally, in the afternoon, I remember that I actually have the stocking, so I go and check it out. First, the stocking itself is really nice. Inside, a coffee mug with a coffee mug cozy around it, hot chocolate, fuzzy car dice, a lot of candy, and a whoopee cushion!

"Hey Gerry, thanks for the whoopee cushion. Now when I let off a berepper you won't know if it's real or simulated."
"What?"
"The whoopee cushion. And all the other stuff in the stocking... that you gave me... last night. Good grief man, don't you remember what you put in the stocking you gave to me?"
"I didn't give you that stocking. The doorbell rang while you were watching the movie, and when I got to the door there was no one there. Just the stocking."

So I have no clue who gave it to me, just likely suspects. Due to proximity, I figured Blue or Althea, but they're both out of town. That leaves assorted folks in the NW, since my guess is that road conditions ruled out anyone farther. Anyway, Ger got a nice bottle of whisky out of it. I had a wee dram and it seems good to my rum-preferring tongue.

Tale Two
In which our hero's jerk brain punishes him for doing a good deed.

I had an invite to spend Christmas Day with Joel and Colin and I decided to take them up on it. I even bought some mashed potatoes from one of the upscale grocery stores to share with the giant-ass turkey they were cooking up for the two of them. Apparently all Costco employees are given a bird every Christmas. Nice.

Anyway, during the day before I left, I see that my friend Megan is working all day. She's an OB-GYN intern, so a baby doctor. Or given she's an intern, a baby baby doctor. Babies are notorious for not heeding plans and schedules, so she was working Christmas day to catch any babies that come popping out.

I pack my stuff to go to Joel's and add a big box of cookies. Megan had posted a group photo of the Labour & Delivery personnel and I figured they could use some cookies. I omitted any peanut/tree nut cookies in case that would be an issue in a hospital, but make sure there's enough so everyone could have at least one. And then I head off.

I briefly nursed a fantasy of walking out of there with a bunch of phone numbers, because of coursethey'd be that impressed with my baking skills. Hint: That's not how this story ends.

First problem is I get to the unit and can't find anyone. I wander for a bit before I realize I have to get buzzed into a restricted area. I push the intercom button.

"Can I help you?" says the disembodied voice.
Thinking: "I'm in labour".
Actually saying "I have a Christmas present for Dr. Megan."
"Come on in!"

Now what I was expecting was a desk with a head nurse. I'd talk to her and hand off the cookies, or if I'm lucky and Megan isn't busy, they'd page her and I'd give her the cookies directly. Nope. What I got was a dozen smart , good looking women (I'm inferring the smart from their being health-care professionals, the good-looking was self evident) staring at me like I was intruding on their turf. And of course my brain locks up with a combination of whatever-you-do-don't-be-creepy, and bashful buzzard.

Of course, when I think "don't be creepy", I'm in a very real danger of being creepy in the opposite direction that I'm usually creepy. Like if I know I stare to much, I'll end up never making eye contact. or if I think I shouldn't tell off-colour jokes, I won't make any sort of joke at all. I'm not sure what I did today, but I'm sure there was something.

Megan was pleased to see me, but from their reactions, no one else was. While talking with her, I kept looking at everyone else only to see that I had their undivided attention, and no one was speaking. No one was laughing. No one was smiling at all. Probably a dozen women in all, staring and judging. The most positive spin I can put on it was that they were in the middle of some important task and I'd interrupted it. Most negative spin? I'm a cross between Quasimodo and Jabba the Hutt.

I'd have loved to have chatted with her more, because she doesn't make me feel awkward, but damned if I wasn't anxious to get out of there. I was feeling very Shrek-like. Had I known what I was in for, I'd have sprinted in, dropped the cookies on the desk, and sprinted out before the door could fully cycle. Hopefully for humorous effect. This is why I prefer the ghost drop for things like this. You know, like the Christmas stocking.

I hope they enjoyed the cookies, and phone numbers are always appreciated. Ha!

The anxiety went away quickly, and I had a laugh about it with the Joel and Colin later. All three of us knew precisely what that was like and we all did our own self-deprecating riffs on it. I ended up having a pleasant evening watching comedy specials on Netflix with the lads. I've had worse Christmases.

Current Music: Ship of Fools - Robert Plant

I brought an empty howler to work because I was going to visit some friends later in the day. Liquor Depot (a fairly nice liquor store, despite the generic name) across the street has a growler bar, so I figured I'd get it filled.

"Can I help you?"
"I'm trying to decide between the Apple Pie Wheat Ale and the Harvest Hefe, can I get a sample of each?"
"Sure." *pours two samples*
"I'll take the Hefe."
"It'll take a few minutes to pour. Have a look around while you're waiting."
"Thank you, I will."

I wander off to see if they have any bottles of Duchesse de Bourgogne, which is a current fave (alas, they didn't). The guy from the growler bar comes up to me in the cold room.

"I have bad news and potentially good news. The bad news is, we ran out of the hefe halfway through filling your howler. The good news is, if you buy another howler, I can let you have what I did pour for free."
"That sounds like an excellent plan. I'll take the Apple Pie Wheat Ale."

I suspect they wanted me to buy something and not just walk out with a freebie, hence the caveat about a second howler. Since I bought some rum too, I could probably have skipped it.

Anyway, I walk up to the counter and my two howlers are sitting there. More good news: The howler is half full in the sense that it wasn't full full - it was actually somewhere between 2/3 and 3/4.

"Did you find everything you're looking for?"
"And then some. Any day I get free beer is a good day."
"I'm glad you think that - sometimes people get really upset when a keg runs dry."
"Really? They are aware that it is the nature of kegs to go dry, right?"
"I guess not."

I love happy little accidents.

I was enjoying Oxford Stomp, the annual concert a bunch of businesses put on every year for Stampede. I've been wanting to see Serena Ryder perform ever since I discovered her a few years ago. She was playing last year (along with Don Henley) so I bought tickets. Then the show got cancelled due to monsoons. They booked her again this year, so I, once again, bought tickets.

Ms. Ryder did not disappoint. I'm always a little worried that the singing you hear on the album got that way because of multiple takes and sound editing magic. I'm sure there's some truth to that, but it's always nice to hear that the live artist is just that good. Serena Ryder has a fantastic voice, powerful with a great range - and she's not afraid to use it. I'd definitely see her again. At another venue. An indoor venue. Away from the sun and the heat.

I was on my second coating of sunscreen when I noticed my eyes were super irritated. "Swell", I thought, "I've sweated sunscreen into my eyes again." That means trying to cry the irritant out, which is time consuming. I basically sat at the edge of the venue listening to Our Lady Peace (who seemed like good performers who could work the crowd. alas, I'm not familiar with them, recognizing only two songs) with my eyes closed.

Irritated eyes is something I associate with outdoor SCA events, except now I'm starting to think sweat/sunscreen in the eyes isn't what's going on here. There was a ton of hay bales on the site, and quite a few of them did get stomped to oblivion by the patrons. I think I may be allergic to straw, or some byproduct of straw. That would explain why I associate it with some, but not all, outdoor SCA events; and why it was so bad this time.

And it was bad. I've been off site for 90 minutes now, and I had a long shower, and my eyes are still sore, and my nose is super runny. I almost started with the nasal rinse I bought for unrelated issues, but I don't have any distilled water.

Now it could be that my first guess (sunscreen) is the culprit, and the runny nose is just the body's response to an irritant in the eyes. But it's both eyes, and the nose, and a generally icky feeling. I've never had to deal with allergies before, except on rare trips to Vancouver. I suspect there's something native to Van that pollinates for a brief period, and I occasionally catch it when the periods align. No clue what plant it is. Anyway, now I think hay. Being a city kids, it's no wonder I didn't put this together until middle age.

And the remainder of Oxford Stomp? It was good, but if this is the price I pay, I'll avoid it, regardless of the performers. Corey Hart was the last performer. I got to listen to his opening song as I left to go home - I just couldn't take it anymore.

So hay fever sucks. Hopefully a good night's sleep will clear it up.

Current Location: Fort Calgary
Current Music: What I Wouldn't Do - Serena Ryder

I got a late start due to lethargy and the assumption that the weather in Banff was going to be gloomy (weather report was saying it was only 5C). Drove down the highway with light traffic and the occasional sprinkling of rain. No assholes. Parked in the usual spot and bought some fudge.

I was going to go to Bison to try that rum cocktail I saw last time I was there, since I'd have many hours to sober up before driving home. They close at 2 after their Sunday brunch. I got there at 2:05. Alas. I then decided to walk to the Banff Springs hotel along the road. I wandered around the hotel briefly, then walked down the foot path to Waldhaus pub since I had a few hours to kill. Did part of my crossword, while enjoying a Hacker-Pschorr Weisse. Given I had only eaten potato chips for lunch, the pint of beer hit me pretty hard. I was tipsy and very happy. The radio was playing lots of songs I liked, I was just feeling glad to be alive. i thought briefly about how being alone while travelling often triggers my jerk-brain, but I just told it to fuck off and I was fine.

After finishing my beer, I left the pub and encountered a guy photographing the scenery. He asked how to get to Bow Falls, and since it was easy, I told him.

"I can't take two steps without taking a picture. Even if it's the same mountain. It's all so incredible."
"I know. Sometimes I get a little jaded because I live in Calgary, and get to come to Banff basically as often as I'd like. But then I look at all this..." gestures at Mount Rundle"...and I realize just how blessed I am."
"Well, it's Canada."

That made me incredibly proud, given his accent identified him as being from the UK. A place that is no stranger to beautiful vistas.

I walked to Bow Falls, then back to the bridge and opted to check out the Old Banff Graveyard. Always a good place for quiet reflection. Ultimately, I'm going to be cremated, but I wonder if it wouldn't be worthwhile to have a gravestone made, just so someone will look at it long after I'm gone and have them wonder about my life, like I wondered about the lives bracketed by the dates on all those tombstones. I'll need to look into which rocks last the longest. Oh, and a place to put it since my body won't be anywhere.

I walked up the pathway to the Banff Centre and was the first person to be seated at Three Ravens, which, as some friends pointed out online yesterday, ain't cheap. But it is oh so good, and has the best view in Banff.

By this time the sun had come out, and I was facing right into it. I donned my sunglasses and my server asked if I wanted to have the shades drawn.

"Oh no, I'm enjoying this sunshine - it's filling me with warmth. I just need to cut the glare a little."

Bread and custom butters was served. I had the duck breast with beats, followed up by a white chocolate mousse and a chocolate apertif. Then I hiked back into Banff along the hidden corner lookout.

I was starting to feel quite sore from all the hiking, and would have loved rounding out the trip with a soak in the hot springs. Alas, I'd forgotten my swim wear. I opted to come home while I still had sunlight. once again, traffic was light with no assholes.

In fact, the whole trip there weren't many people. Banff only had a light scattering of tourists. I suspect the gloomy weather (that went away once I got there) kept a lot of people away. For me the weather was almost perfect. I basically just wore a hoodie and was never hot or cold. It was a goldilocks afternoon.

Current Mood: chipper

While cleaning today, I found a pressurized canister with a trigger. It was wrapped in a pressure bandage, which suggested it was someone trying to be efficient with their camping equipment. It wasn't mine, and it wasn't Ger's, which means it was abandoned by some long departed tenant.

I didn't know what it was, and it seemed useful for the great outdoors (it was also on a carabiner, so more evidence of that).  I thought to myself "I should pull the trigger and figure out what it is".  And then I thought "Wait... the most likely thing it is, is an air horn, or bear spray, and neither of the options will be pleasant in my basement".  So I unwrapped it.

It was bear spray.  Anyone want some bear spray? The odds of me accidentally triggering it are greater than me ever requiring it, so I'd rather just get rid of it.

Facebook has a feature where it shows you stuff you posted on this day in years past. Turns out, the end of March, beginning of April is a popular time for me to go to Vancouver. There's no mystery to this - I often have vacation time I have to use or lose, and this is when my company's business year ends. So yay, a reason to visit; and yay, my vacation days have recycled.

Here's a recap:

Before I even got to Vancouver, on Tuesday night after my last day at work, I spent some time with

thebrucie and Allison. We went to Craft for a four course meal with beer pairing put on by a local brewery. They were noteworthy for having a luau theme (so Bruce was happy), and an IPA that was actually super tasty - this is how they're supposed to taste.

Wednesday, I checked into The Burrard and took advantage of a special they had. I'm now the proud owner of nine (well, seven now) $25 Amex gift cards!

Being by myself I decided to go have a quiet dinner at Clubhouse Sushi, and then walk to the Rio to catch The Critical Hit Show (aka #DnDlive). It did not disappoint.

Related to the above, the performer I have a mild crush on, revealed she is about ten years older than I imagined! Also, that she was going to perform at a strip club for the first time the next evening.

Thursday, I didn't actually go to the strip club, mostly because going just to see a crush would be kinda creepy, and doing so by myself would be creepy as fuck. Instead, I opted to go to the Comedy Mix to see Sarah Tiana, who was pretty funny, as were the other three comics of the night. I need to go to comedy clubs more. It really is great value for the money.

Speaking of value for money, chicken fingers normally don't qualify. However, I ordered them at the Comedy Mix because I hadn't eaten any supper that night. When they arrived, the house lights had gone down, so I couldn't really see them. I could tell it was piled high on top of the french fries, making it seem huge. I resolved that I didn't really need to eat the french fries, so I'd stop when I got to them. Except there were no french fries - it was chicken fingers all the way to the bottom. By Grabthar's hammer... what a savings.

Friday, I hung out with

stephtopia in the afternoon, inadvertantly filling my hat with soft drinks (wet. sticky. I've felt it before), baked a cake at Port Wood before everyone got home, and then went to the Burrard Pub with Jonathan,

garething, and

othelianna.

Saturday, Rosie and I went thrift shopping in North Vancouver. I figured, if we were going to do this, we should go somewhere farther afield, so it would be unique to both of us. Nope. She's been to every thrift store in the lower mainland it seems. Among our travels we also went to Filmgo sales, which is a thrift store that caters to professional props people, though they will sell to anyone. I found a Chinese Apothecary cabinet (basically a medium sized cabinet with 33 drawers in it), but didn't buy it.

Back at Port Wood, I prepared for Gareth and Steph's anniversary by icing the cake I'd baked the night before. Freeze your cake, it makes icing it way simpler! A little fudgy - I probably over mixed it. I'll need to work on that for the next iteration.

It was also the Sins Against God and Humanity Potluck party that Steph planned in my honour. Basically, all those weird and horrible recipes from the distant past you've always wanted to try? We tried them. I made Spam Musubi. Steph made Bologna Stew. Rosie made Twix Salad, Here's the thing about those recipes - they're actually damn tasty. Not terribly good for you, but if I was health conscious, I wouldn't have drank all that rum.

Speaking of which, Bumbu Rum is probably the best sip-it-neat rum I've ever had! Definitely picking up a bottle soon. Drinking did happen, but there was so much food, and drinking was at a sufficiently slow pace, that no one actually got drunk. Tipsy, sure, but not drunk. Next time, less unfortunate food, more cocktails.

The night required cheese, so I made them all watch The Nice Guys.

About the only real problem of the trip is that I ended up not getting on my bus because I assumed I was getting on a different bus and didn't actually read the instructions Google Maps gave me. And it was sufficiently late when I left the party that the 2 Km walk to Burquitlam station was less time.

Sunday I hung out with Rosie some more, but we did spend a plesant two hours at Dutch Wooden Shoe enjoying pancakes and the company of Steph and

somejauntypolka!

I also remembered an incident where I waited too long to buy a set of drawers from Consignment Gallery and regretted it. I resolved to buy that apothecary cabinet. About two weeks ago I emptied my penny jar and got enough money to pay for the cabinet. That's exactly the sort of thing I like doing with that "found" money. It gets to live at Port Wood until I can get my car out there this summer.

And now I'm actually planning that summer trip. A full week in Vancouver next time, I think. This time was, as is the way of the spring trips, too short.

Current Mood: nostalgic
Current Music: A Day in the Life - Captain

Today was a nice day off. Be warned, this is a pure I-had-toast-it-was-crunchy post.

I wasn't going to take today off. I could have, but I wasn't, because I had things to do at work. However, a new policy came in at work that meant instead of 23 Fridays off each year, we're only going to get 15. The only reason seems to be because other companies aren't as generous, which seems a poor reason since it's not like we're working more or less now - those extra days are turning into 15 minutes less per day. Frankly, I'd rather work the extra 15 minutes and get the days off, even though I typically don't take all 23 in a year (looking back over the last few year's hours confirms this).

Anyway, I decided that I'm going to take every scheduled Friday off between now and the end of March when the new policy takes effect. Just because.

The day was nice, and full of hygge.

I went to lunch at Blue Star with

hislittlekitty. It was nice to catch up with her, because I hadn't had any one-on-one time with her in many months. She even paid for lunch, possibly because she knew if she'd dawdled, I'd have done it. She may be on to my "It's my turn to pay" ploy.

I did get to give her the present I bought for her last summer when I was in Portland. It was a purple boa that whispered "Kathy would love me" whenever I walked by it in the thrift store. Amusingly, when I was waiting in line to pay for it, the woman behind me told me she was going to buy it, but waited too long to get it. If I didn't have an intended recipient, I'd have let you take it, random stranger.

I spent the afternoon baking cookies. I'm pretty burned out from cookie making, after all I did during the holidays. However, I wanted to use up the last of the perishable ingredients. So I have another batch of Peanut Butter Squares (which are rapidly becoming even more desired than my chocolate chip cookies), and what I'm calling Hodge Podge cookies. Basically chocolate chip cookies that got the random stuff thrown into them. In this case, walnuts and some mint milk chocolate shaving I picked up by accident from Cococo.

Afterwards I played some Dark Forces, which I picked up for five bucks off of Sony, and have been replaying for nostalgia sake ever since I saw Rogue One. Because Rogue One retcons Dark Forces out of existence.

I whined a bit online about being bored, and I ended up getting invited to Metal Galaxy by

cat_cetera. I showed up and played a small amount of Machi Koro, a city-building card game that seems to actually be a cleverly disguised version of Craps with fellow-SCAdian CT, and a random girl named H.

Funny thing about H, she was quiet, and also very knowledgable and cutthroat about the game. A true QLP. If I was twenty years younger, I'd have fallen for her instantly.

I'm kind of glad I'm not twenty years younger. It's nice to be able to relate to people without the goddamn hormones getting in the way and making me drive them away with creepiness.

We soon got kicked out because the store was closing and I briefly considered offering H a ride (she was exiting the parking lot in exactly that way that people who rely on transit have). That would have been creepy though, and I'd have had to go into a big rigamarole of getting

cat_cetera to vouch for me, and that's just awkward.

Aside: It occurs to me that I inadvertently crashed some woman-gamers thing. I hope that wasn't the case, and this was a open-to-anyone thing.

I drove home, cutting through Elbow Drive for shits-and-giggles. Now I'm enjoying a delicious Red Racer White Ale (which I am definitely picking up more of. Yum) and the Leeroy sausage from Carnivore Club that I got for Christmas from

conejita_diabla and

thebrucie. Which brings me to a story...

So a few months ago, I went to a movie with some friend. I mentioned that I had just bought myself the Lego Beatles Yellow Submarine kit.

"Dude, why are you buying yourself stuff like that, right before Christmas. I might have bought it for you."
"It's $70. The last people who spent that much money on me for Christmas was my parents, and they've been dead over ten years. No one is spending that much money on me."

Now, I need to point out that I'm all right with that. Nobody needs to get me anything, and they're certainly under no obligation to spend a certain amount. If you're thinking of me, take me out to dinner, or buy me a bottle of rum. I'm easy to please.

While the conversation about did not include

conejita_diabla and

thebrucie, they were present for it. I don't know precisely how much they spent on the gift box of cured meats (that I've been happily consuming for the last three weeks) and artisan cheeses, but my best guess is that it's just a bit over $70. Thanks again BTW.

I also related that story to

stephtopia while I was in Vancouver over Christmas, as well as a desire to a) go back to Vegas with people sometime, and b) go see Steve Martin/Martin Short in concert. The Steve Martin/Martin Short tickets in Vegas that Steph just bought me are at least $70.

So here I sit, feeling loved. Not because I'm getting presents, but because people are thinking of me.

Current Mood: loved
Current Music: Cloud 9 - George Harrison

I was out at the Calgary Farmers' Market yesterday with some friends, and I noticed when you walked into the NE entrance, there's a store off to the side selling a lot of tweed-based men's wear (according to the market's map, it's not actually a part of the market). They also appeared to be selling some random Christmas stuff in the White Christmas Village mode. Among the things they had was a mailbox.

Here's the thing though, it looked like the mailboxes that Canada Post uses in historical neighbourhoods. I.e. anachronistic, but still real. I had some postcards that I needed to drop, so I tossed them in the slot.

thebrucie watched this and said, "I don't think this is a real mailbox."

We look closer and at the bottom, below the very Canada Post-like list of pickup times, was a website URL (which I didn't commit to memory) indicating they make models, and that this wasn't real.

Once we realized this, there was some good nature ribbing about my throwing a pair of post cards away by accident. In my defence, it really did look real, and the store had placed this model in the lobby, rather than inside their store.

I tried to open it and failed, so I went into the store looking for an employee.

"How may I help you sir?"
"Do you guys own this mailbox?"
"Yes, we do."
"Well, I mistook it for a real one, and I need you to unlock it so I can grab the mail I just threw in by accident."

The fellow also tries to open it, initially failing. He then confessed that he wasn't sure if there was a key for the lock. He fiddled with it a little more and finally the door popped open. It wasn't locked (the keyhole was just for show), the magnet that held the door shut was just really powerful.

There, at the top of a pile of other mail, were my two postcards. I grabbed them and thanked the guy for his help. I left to walk into the market proper, looking back briefly to see the guy holding a big wad of mail in his hands and an expression of now-what-do-I-do on his face. I'm just happy I wasn't the only one who had done this. I do wonder how long that faux mailbox was sitting there though. It looked like at least twenty letters - all waiting patiently for a postie who was never going to come.

You'll be happy to know (especially if your name is Sue or Jenny) that the postcards made their way into a proper mailbox later that day.

*** One Week Later***

I wonder how much mail they found.

One of my coworkers brought in some fund-raising candy bars. You know, the boxes of chocolate-covered almonds that go for three bucks a box. There was half a dozen of them on the counter in our kitchen, along with a tip box for donations. This went on for several days. Every time I went into the kitchen, those six boxes of almonds sat there.

"Jeebus, my coworkers are a cheap bunch. I'd totally buy a box of chocolates, if I weren't being a good boy on Weight Watchers."

This morning when I came in, I saw the same tableau, as it had been for three days.

"Screw it", I said. I fished out twenty bucks, dumped it in the tip box, then proceeded to empty all six boxes into a large bowl, leaving it on the counter so people could help themselves. I went to my office feeling pretty good about that.

Later that morning, I walk into the kitchen to find that people had indeed helped themselves to the chocolates in the bowl. I also saw that all of the original boxes had been replaced with new boxes. The coworker apparently had more than the original six boxes, and was topping up the supply in the kitchen as needed. For all I know, he'd been selling them steady all week, and didn't need my help. D'oh!

Oh well, it's fundraising, and the almonds were enjoyed.

Current Music: Love's Been a Little Bit Hard on Me - Juice Newton

I went to a Thanksgiving get together with my family yesterday. It was at my aunt's place, which is tiny, so we were mostly in the living room.

The TV was on CNN. There was only two stories on CNN that anyone cared about. Hurricane Matthew, and Donald Trump's "grab her by the pussy" tape. Specifically, Trump's "apology" about it that included his avowal that he was not going to quit the race under any circumstances.

"Oh god, yes. Please please please stay in the race. I can't wait to watch you singlehandedly destroy the Republican party, you misogynistic buffoon!", I say.

There's a pregnant pause in the room.

"Wow. This is really good turkey."
"Yes... and the stuffing is wonderful."
"I really like these devilled eggs."

And I think to myself. "Ok, don't discuss politics at Thanksgiving."

Later on, after everyone had left but me, my aunt brings it up and we have a laugh over it.

"There weren't any Trump supporters in the room were there?", I ask.
"Oh no. In fact, your cousins would have likely followed your rant with one of their own. They can't stand him."
"Good for them."

Alas, I have a bad habit of doing this. Sometimes it's when one of my pet rants gets poked. Sometimes I'm trying to be funny, and miscalculate into asshole. Still working on those.

The Doom That Came to Cowtown

Entries tagged with crunchy toast

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