J.P.
Toronto.
Earl and I are spending the night in Toronto with our friends Tim and Steve. We just got back from dinner in Chinatown. I have no idea what I had for dinner. I looked for familiar ingredients and pointed at the menu. When the server appeared to ask if we enjoyed our meal I rubbed my stomach, smacked my lips and said “yummy” in a very loud voice.
Of course I’m kidding about that. It is true that I have no idea what I ate though. It was quite tasty for what it’s worth.
If you’re up to the minute with my blog entries, you probably saw some cell phones pictures on here for a little while. I took a look at them after checking in the hotel and found that the quality absolutely sucked so I deleted them. Photo quality is important to me. Apparently I’ve dropped my cell phone too many times and screwed up the built in camera. Oh well. Good thing I brought the real camera along!
Tonight we’re going to enjoy a little bit of the nightlife here in Toronto. It’s been a very long time since we’ve been up here and it’s a welcomed change of pace.
One of the things that I really enjoy about Toronto is the particular dialect of English spoken up here. It sounds so refined. So distinguished. A number of years ago I did some diction work to improve my speaking voice (and de-emphasize my nasal Central New York accent) on the radio and I used a couple of Canadian personalities as examples to mimic. That practice kicks into high gear whenever we’re up here.
I’m looking forward to going out tonight. It should be a good time. Steve and Tim are always fun to play around with.
Conversation.
One of the most challenging things I find about your typical work week is the need to fall asleep when I’m not really that tired. I’m proud to proclaim that I am a “night owl”. I burn the midnight oil. I could work all night on an any given adventure, while others are in bed dreaming of their next adventure. On my ideal schedule, I’m awake until 3:30 a.m. or so and then sleep ’til noon. It just the way I’m wired.
Tomorrow is a vacation day, so normally I would indulge myself in my natural sleeping habits, but I need to head up to my grandparents’ house early in the morning to meet the movers to move my grandparents’ piano down to our house.
I just tried to force myself to sleep with no such luck. Usually I can lie in bed and sort of imagine myself someplace else; another city, another time, another outfit, and then I’ll eventually fall asleep with my recent imagination segueing into my dreams.
Tonight I had the urge to shake Earl awake and discuss a myriad of topics with him. I didn’t do that of course, as he was snoring loud enough to make the cattle in the barns two towns over restless. (“Elsie, what the hell is that noise? Is your milker clogged up again?” “No, it’s Earl snoring again.”) Normally Earl’s sounds of slumber are like music to my ears. Well, at least the noise masks the constant ringing in my ears that I have from too many ears wearing headphones as a DJ.
It’s not easy to carry on a conversation with someone that snores.
“We should talk about the Christmas shopping we have left.”
“honk honk gurgle gurgle honk honk [sound of sucking up pillow off the bed].”
I love him with all my heart but what kind of conversation is that?
So I’ll try to tire myself by surfing the internet and working on my little road geek projects and what not. Thank the Universe everything in the computer room is bolted down.
Tickle The Ivories.
There is something so invigorating of knowing a three-day weekend lies ahead. Today is my “Friday” as I have taken tomorrow as a vacation day. Tomorrow I’m having my grandparents’ piano moved into its new home in our front room.
My excitement is a little bittersweet, though. I’m really pumped about having a piano in the house again since it’s been over two years since Earl and I have had a piano. I’m anxious to start plunking out tunes. I might even take piano lessons again, because after all, I don’t have enough going on in my life.
But I’m a little sad because it’s my grandparents’ piano. When I hear or see this piano, I’ll remember the happy times I had as a kid listening to my grandmother play or trying to figure out tunes on my own. This piano predates the house its currently in, which was built in the mid 1950s. It hasn’t really moved since being put in its spot nearly 50 years ago. It’s a family heirloom that I’m going to treasure forever.
I’m sure that after the movers leave and I play the piano tomorrow I’ll have tears in my eyes. But that’s o.k. There’ll be a song in my heart.
Important Paperwork.
There’s nothing more important, actually more satisfying, then getting through the stack of paperwork on your desk and finding the bottom of the frivolity. Of course I’m referring to the stacks of rebate submission forms and lottery tickets stacked next to my computer.
I go crazy over rebates. I don’t know why. I find they’re more satisfying than coupons because you get something back several weeks after the purchase. Often you completely forget the arrival of your rebate check so it’s like a little bonus on a dreary day. So you had to buy an overpriced laser printer that was completely out of your budget. Big deal. You’re getting a free toner cartridge in the mail simply because you took the time to make a photocopy of your receipt, circle the item you are referencing, cut the UPC code out of the bottom of the box (complete with packing staple that was in your scissoring path), recorded the serial number of the actual printer, completed the form in impossibly legible, yet tiny letters across the thermally printed form that is no larger than 2 3/4-inches across and stuffed all that fun into a business sized envelope with made out to a business address that contains seven lines and a just a few words short of a novel.
After all the fun with the rebates, I came across the lottery tickets that haven’t been checked. Why, Earl and I could be millionaires right now and paying someone union wages to fill out our rebate forms! So off to the New York Lottery website we go, comparing and cross checking our lottery numbers with the numbers listed on the tickets. No luck though, we’re still your average bears.
Better increase our wealth with more rebates.
Cuddle.
I was settling down during my lunch to write a clever, witty and stimulating blog entry. I was interrupted by the unmistakeable sounds of purring and the eyes of a cat who was looking for a clear landing path to my lap.
The blog entry loses. The cat wins.
I’ll write tonight.
Moving Pictures.
When I’m bored and find myself aimlessly wandering the internet, I often stop over to The Internet Archive and browse through some of the old short films from the 40s and 50s.
One particular short film I enjoy is titled “Young Man’s Fancy”. This film is about young Judy, who is just smitten with a friend her brother has brought home from college. She’s trying to get his attention so they can go to the dance together.
Now, you would think the title refers to Judy as the young man’s “fancy”. Nope. The twist of this film is that it’s really an infomercial for electric appliances! No specific brand names are mentioned, but mother and daughter discuss the virtues of having an electric washer and dryer and all electric kitchen, and Alex, the object of Judy’s affection, has a most peculiar hobby: “engineering and time study”. A geek before his time! I love it!
I love watching this little episodic movie for a couple of reasons. I snicker when it’s mentioned that Alex is a “really woman hater”(?!?) and he and Judy’s brother go upstairs to take a shower together. (There’s a scene where Alex is shaving and the brother is taking a shower, in the same bathroom).
The mother in the film reminds me of my paternal grandmother in her homemaking skills; “wash day”, ironing the sheets, making a hearty lunch, etc.
What I like most is the innocence in this film. It has no basis in reality but rather takes place in a utopian, innocent world where time moved slower, people dressed up for dinner (I’m lucky to have pants on when I’m at the supper table) and the most technologically advanced piece of equipment in the house was the television.
I think there’s subliminal messages in the film though. I have the urge to redo the kitchen in an early 50s motif. Complete with an all-electric laundry.
Surly Crowd.
One of the things that I’ve noticed over the past couple of years is that there doesn’t seem to be in any “holiday spirit” amongst the shoppers that are doing their Christmas shopping. I don’t know if this is confined to this area, where people are generally surly to begin with, or if this is an epidemic that has taken over the country as a whole. Nevertheless, I find it all quite depressing.
First of all, I refuse to shop on “Black Friday”. I find these pre-dawn specials quite idiotic and I’ve heard too many horror stories. Super Wal*Mart (Always White Trash, Always) advertises laptop computers for $299.99 between 5:01 a.m. and 5:36 a.m. on Black Friday. People start milling about these 24hour behemoths around 3:00 a.m. or so, awaiting the magic time when a overworked, underpaid and uninsured Wal*Mart associate croaks over the loudspeaker, “Wal*Mart associates, it’s time to remove the paper”, referring to the brown paper that is wrapped around all these bargains for the “specials hour”. Now mind you, they’ve been shreaking in newspapers, on the radio and on the tube about how wonderful all these sales are going to be for the prior two weeks, so there’s probably a couple hundred or so people awaiting their chance to pick up a $299.99 computer. They’ve been dreaming, scheming and salivating over this opportunity to get this deep-discounted computer. They’ve been wandering the store for two hours in the middle of the night waiting for this Golden Opportunity, this one chance to get the computer their rug rat has been whining about since the middle of August. They’re tired, they’re cranky, but more importantly, they’re ready to join the other folks and get this computer.
Except there’s only six of them.
And one of them is damaged.
(And I won’t mention that they run Windows. Unpatched.)
Natually, all mayhem ensues, men are making fists, women are tripping others, people in wheelchairs are getting herded away from the “fun” by ambulatory people using shopping carts as battering rams, children are crying. I have to ask, is it really worth it?
How does the song go? Oh yes, “All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth.” Chance are you won’t have them if you go shopping on Black Friday. They’ve been knocked out by some holiday shopper, undoubtedly spreading holiday cheer, who saw you grab the laptop they had their eye on.
Kicking off snowblowing season.
Yesterday marked the first significant snowstorm of the season. The weather folks predicted three to five inches, so of course we got nearly a foot of snow.
Earlier in the week I was commenting that it was a balmy 67.8 degrees here in Upstate N.Y. While quite beautiful, that’s a bad thing in December. You see, warm air keeps the Great Lakes warm, which then just invites Arctic air to come over the lakes, scoop up some lake water, make some magic and dump lots of snow on those of us that live in strategically placed locales.
I grew up smack dab in the middle of the Lake Ontario “snow belt”, so lots of snow doesn’t bother me. Where we live now is not as close to the snow belt area, but we still get our fair share of snow. I’m always fairly bewildered at others’ reaction to a foot or so of snow. If you think about it, it’s all easier to deal with if you just, well, deal with it. I don’t fly into hysterics and buy sixty loaves of bread and fourteen cartons of milk. I don’t cry and throw my vehicle into a tailspin when I enter a whiteout. I don’t believe that school should be closed due to snow on the roads. That’s what living in Upstate New York is all about.
It’s just so much damn work!
Oh well. I’m hoping that working my way up and down the driveway with the snowblower will pass for physical exercise.
