Angie thinks I spoil little Lex which. . . ok, maybe at times, but she has freckles and baby blues so what do you expect? I took the kids to school today so I could watch Lex perform her first ever tap dance. As the kids tapped the parents grinned ear to ear including this one. There's something about kids that turns adults into putty.
On the way home Alexa sat in the front seat and pushed every button ever put out by Toyota. I finally encouraged her to stop so she moved on to CD's, skipping every song, ejecting, putting a new one in etc. At one point I would have actually perferred Angie's back seat driving. Love ya dear but cmon, if said driving was a crime you'd be doing 10-20 at Levenworth.
When we got home Lex wanted to say the prayer for the lunch. She pleaded with God to stop Rusty from showing off and for Hugo to stop being so greedy. The interesting thing is Rusty's our cat and Hugo's the family dog. To her credit she also prayed for the food.
Awww little Lex.
John
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Great links
In case you missed it, Kori and Lisa Jones are currently living the life we all wish we were living. Read their latest blog post. It'll tickle right before stabbing you in the heart.
John
P.S. Angie and I watched Pan's Labyrinth last night. Amazing. For so many reasons.
John
P.S. Angie and I watched Pan's Labyrinth last night. Amazing. For so many reasons.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Grey Dad Cup
My dad celebrated his 71st birthday on Thursday. The exciting thing is he's still able to walk, talk, and use a toilet. Ha Ha. Angie says "I'm bad" for saying that, while laughing of course. I'm pretty sure my dad is laughing too - as long as he can still read or remember where he left his computer. Ha Ha.
My friend Bob Barnard lost his father on Friday. He was vacationing with friends when he suffered a massive heart attack. He was 67. This morning at church Bob walked up to the front unannounced and shared for 10 minutes what his father meant to him. How he was proud of him. How he was a good man. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. And I couldn't help but think of my dad.
Trey Moreau's father sustained a serious eye injury on Tuesday. He was changing a tire when the rod slipped sticking him in the eye. He suffered damage to his cornea and lens. At first the doctors wondered out loud if they could save the eye. Thankfully they were and he is currently recovering at Rockyview, here in Calgary.
Life is fragile. And can turn on a dime. We always think we have lots of time so we sit on our feelings, steer clear of the phone and plan to get together next week as this week is bad.
Today my Bombers play in the Grey Cup. I forget the other team. Growing up, most Sundays involved me scarfing down my mom's homemade Roast Beef then bounding down the stairs to catch the rest of the game. Note: My mom would always end up doing the dishes by herself. I don't think I ever thanked her for that. Thanks mom! Without your dish pan hands I wouldn't have the fond memories I do today. I actually discovered many years later that my dad wasn't the sports enthusiast he always let on. He mainly enjoyed it because it involved time with me.
The Pre-game is yapping in the background and while I'm excited to see Dimwiddie defy the odds effectively leaving Bandura out $50, without my dad - it'll feel empty. I'm not always gonna have my dad, the day will come when I will share Bob's heart ache. But not today. So I will love him today knowing he's watching online and cheering too.
Love ya pops. Go Bombers.
John
My friend Bob Barnard lost his father on Friday. He was vacationing with friends when he suffered a massive heart attack. He was 67. This morning at church Bob walked up to the front unannounced and shared for 10 minutes what his father meant to him. How he was proud of him. How he was a good man. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. And I couldn't help but think of my dad.
Trey Moreau's father sustained a serious eye injury on Tuesday. He was changing a tire when the rod slipped sticking him in the eye. He suffered damage to his cornea and lens. At first the doctors wondered out loud if they could save the eye. Thankfully they were and he is currently recovering at Rockyview, here in Calgary.
Life is fragile. And can turn on a dime. We always think we have lots of time so we sit on our feelings, steer clear of the phone and plan to get together next week as this week is bad.
Today my Bombers play in the Grey Cup. I forget the other team. Growing up, most Sundays involved me scarfing down my mom's homemade Roast Beef then bounding down the stairs to catch the rest of the game. Note: My mom would always end up doing the dishes by herself. I don't think I ever thanked her for that. Thanks mom! Without your dish pan hands I wouldn't have the fond memories I do today. I actually discovered many years later that my dad wasn't the sports enthusiast he always let on. He mainly enjoyed it because it involved time with me.
The Pre-game is yapping in the background and while I'm excited to see Dimwiddie defy the odds effectively leaving Bandura out $50, without my dad - it'll feel empty. I'm not always gonna have my dad, the day will come when I will share Bob's heart ache. But not today. So I will love him today knowing he's watching online and cheering too.
Love ya pops. Go Bombers.
John
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Adbuster _ Buy Nothing Day
Buy nothing Day for 2007 is tomorrow, Nov. 23. Take the challenge along with me.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Jerker
Monday mornings rock my roll because I sleep in, wake to an empty house, then watch what Angie calls "stupid guy movies." I look forward to these few hours as its the only time in the week that I can turn off my brain and be. When it comes to the movie choice I usually go with something Angie loathes knowing it'll be my only chance.
Today I chose Rudy. Again. And cried. Again. Except this time much earlier. Usually my tears begin about the same time Rudy gets carried off the field although I've been known to cry earlier, like when he gets accepted into Notre Dame. This morning was an exception and I'm glad I was alone because 7 minutes in the tears began their descent. To be honest, I was kind of embarassed sitting on my couch all by my lonesome crying like a little girl, but there I was and I couldn't deny it. And I did nothing to try and stop it.
It turns out, there are many dudes who've had similar reactions. In fact, a survey was just completed asking men which movies they cried in the most and Rudy came out number one. No word yet how many of those men are straight. Jk. To be honest, it kind of felt good crying whilt snuggled up in my pj's and blanket with a fire roaring across the room. I felt free knowing no one would call or burst in the door with a smile and camera. So there I sat, for the entire 114 min allowing the tears to do their thing. By the time the movie ended my throat throbed and my mascara had run everywhere. Angie bounded in 8 minutes later but I timed it perfect and was in the shower, a perfect cover for weepy men.
Anyways, no religion and philosophy today. Just a grown man and his favorite movie.
John
P.S. The Five word blog. They are alive and well.
Today I chose Rudy. Again. And cried. Again. Except this time much earlier. Usually my tears begin about the same time Rudy gets carried off the field although I've been known to cry earlier, like when he gets accepted into Notre Dame. This morning was an exception and I'm glad I was alone because 7 minutes in the tears began their descent. To be honest, I was kind of embarassed sitting on my couch all by my lonesome crying like a little girl, but there I was and I couldn't deny it. And I did nothing to try and stop it.
It turns out, there are many dudes who've had similar reactions. In fact, a survey was just completed asking men which movies they cried in the most and Rudy came out number one. No word yet how many of those men are straight. Jk. To be honest, it kind of felt good crying whilt snuggled up in my pj's and blanket with a fire roaring across the room. I felt free knowing no one would call or burst in the door with a smile and camera. So there I sat, for the entire 114 min allowing the tears to do their thing. By the time the movie ended my throat throbed and my mascara had run everywhere. Angie bounded in 8 minutes later but I timed it perfect and was in the shower, a perfect cover for weepy men.
Anyways, no religion and philosophy today. Just a grown man and his favorite movie.
John
P.S. The Five word blog. They are alive and well.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Is my humor dead?
It just might be. I owe you guys an apology. Once again, trying to be humerous I think I've offended. Ian hit the nail on the head. He said "I attempted." All I was trying to do was inspire us to blog some more. I wasn't angry at all. I know that's probably hard to believe when I speak of "wretched blogs" and "selling your soul to Facebook" but truly, I only say such things to cause a smirk. Perhaps its not worth it when I'm the only one smirking.
Anyways, I truly do enjoy our community and no I don't think all our posts need to be wordy philosophical treatises on religion and culture. Write what you feel. That's all that matters. That and Go Facebook.
John
Anyways, I truly do enjoy our community and no I don't think all our posts need to be wordy philosophical treatises on religion and culture. Write what you feel. That's all that matters. That and Go Facebook.
John
Friday, November 16, 2007
Is Blogging dead?
If not, it's close. People don't blog because they want to become better writers. They blog because they feel obligated to "update" those who care. Its kinda sweet but lets be honest, now that Facebook is upon us why would we still engage in this crazy behaviour. Why write 500 words when you can write 5 or less on someone's wall. "I got a new job." "I'm no longer single." "I just discovered my birthmark is actually a third nipple." Blogging's tough because it encourages more words then 5. And better words then brb. Try blogging just 5 words sometime. I dare you. It'll feel like you went to work with only socks on. Or had just one Lays. (that's the chips by the way, dirty minded people)
We used to be a blogging community now it's once a month and usually sounds something like this "Man sorry guys, I don't know what's come over me. I used to blog all the time but now I just never can find the time. Well anyways, all is well, life is good. Blah Blah Freakin Blah." What's the deal? If you don't want to blog then erase the wretched thing and sell your soul to Facebook. Just don't come around here with your courtesy blogs doing it because, well I have a blog I might as well blog. And definitely don't do it for the ones in your life who care because they probably don't. Unless you're willing to write for real. That probably sounded more harsh then funny John intended.
I'm afraid even young Nicholas has fallen prey. In his case, I don't think the culprit is Facebook. Probably just got busy. *Laughter erupts*. I for one miss the guy. It used to be automatic. Every morning I'd awake excited to read yet another witty diatribe on absolutely nothing. It was my morning e-votional. Yet here I sit, 18 days dry.
Its not even just Nick that's left me parched. It's Kamara, Brian, Tim, Dave, Chelsey and computerless Blair. Jeremy's done a bit better and Jay is working on 3 days straight although YouTube doesn't count as a blog J, I tried that too. I'd say I miss my man Ty but the day that boy starts blogging my Oilers will stop getting injured.
In some ways, who am I to talk? I've gone in spurts at best but it's mostly because I sense the deadening of our community. I love to write and am one of the few who blogs in the hopes of actually improving but I'd much rather write for dialogue.
So what do you say? Let's bring back the blogging. Pick a day and just stick with it. Go ahead and do your Facebook, I've been seduced by it convenience too but in the end let's not leave the world of the blog. It goes beyond the wall as it teaches us to use words, a forgotten gift in our culture of lol's.
John
P.S. I just noticed Brian blogged today. Will you look at that.
We used to be a blogging community now it's once a month and usually sounds something like this "Man sorry guys, I don't know what's come over me. I used to blog all the time but now I just never can find the time. Well anyways, all is well, life is good. Blah Blah Freakin Blah." What's the deal? If you don't want to blog then erase the wretched thing and sell your soul to Facebook. Just don't come around here with your courtesy blogs doing it because, well I have a blog I might as well blog. And definitely don't do it for the ones in your life who care because they probably don't. Unless you're willing to write for real. That probably sounded more harsh then funny John intended.
I'm afraid even young Nicholas has fallen prey. In his case, I don't think the culprit is Facebook. Probably just got busy. *Laughter erupts*. I for one miss the guy. It used to be automatic. Every morning I'd awake excited to read yet another witty diatribe on absolutely nothing. It was my morning e-votional. Yet here I sit, 18 days dry.
Its not even just Nick that's left me parched. It's Kamara, Brian, Tim, Dave, Chelsey and computerless Blair. Jeremy's done a bit better and Jay is working on 3 days straight although YouTube doesn't count as a blog J, I tried that too. I'd say I miss my man Ty but the day that boy starts blogging my Oilers will stop getting injured.
In some ways, who am I to talk? I've gone in spurts at best but it's mostly because I sense the deadening of our community. I love to write and am one of the few who blogs in the hopes of actually improving but I'd much rather write for dialogue.
So what do you say? Let's bring back the blogging. Pick a day and just stick with it. Go ahead and do your Facebook, I've been seduced by it convenience too but in the end let's not leave the world of the blog. It goes beyond the wall as it teaches us to use words, a forgotten gift in our culture of lol's.
John
P.S. I just noticed Brian blogged today. Will you look at that.
Monday, November 05, 2007
At least I don't throw Salt over my shoulder
Yesterday one of my teens asked if it was wrong to make wishes. I thought about all the times I had shut my eyes, desired fame and fortune then crunched down on my favorite Old Dutch. I thought about coins and how I had chucked them into wells and how that blue genie promised me 3 wishes if I separated my fingers and said Nanew Nanew. "Nah, I don't think so," was my spiritual response, then I countered by asking - "do you think it is?" She shook her head but the damage had already been done. We spent the rest of the time discussing wishes and the importance of walking in front of ladders.
Most people seem to be at least somewhat superstitious. I know I am. I haven't chucked Salt over my shoulder but I have retained facial hairs in the hope of seeing my Oilers build off their one game winning streak. Currently my face feels like a well lotioned bum.
I shared this with my teens (not the bum part) admitting that although I'm supertitious my superstitiousness is playful. For instance, I've been known to read my horoscope. When a goalie has a shutout going I refrain from saying "looks like he's gonna get a shutout." When I preach I wear my best underwear. When I buy milk I take the one at the back. When I walk, I avoid the cracks. I even hum a little tune when I go through yellow lights believing it throws the cops off. See. Playful right?
Most people seem to be at least somewhat superstitious. I know I am. I haven't chucked Salt over my shoulder but I have retained facial hairs in the hope of seeing my Oilers build off their one game winning streak. Currently my face feels like a well lotioned bum.
I shared this with my teens (not the bum part) admitting that although I'm supertitious my superstitiousness is playful. For instance, I've been known to read my horoscope. When a goalie has a shutout going I refrain from saying "looks like he's gonna get a shutout." When I preach I wear my best underwear. When I buy milk I take the one at the back. When I walk, I avoid the cracks. I even hum a little tune when I go through yellow lights believing it throws the cops off. See. Playful right?
Although this makes me very odd, I'm no witch. Or Harry Potter. Which is great because my British Accent is East Indian. Besides, these habits are more OCD then OCCULT. I'm a man of nostalgic routine so I do silly things. Confession: My kids have learned from my example and can now be seen grabbing way in the back grocery items just like wierd dad. Behold, the sins of the father will be passed to the 3rd and 4th generations. Sorry about that grandkids.
In the end I convinced the class that I still believed in God, I just like colder milk. It was a good discussian. Made James come alive.
In the end I convinced the class that I still believed in God, I just like colder milk. It was a good discussian. Made James come alive.
John
Sunday, November 04, 2007
As if
As we were driving back from papers this morning, Maddie looked over and calmly reminded me that she no longer believes in Santa. Cool as a cucumber I replied "why not" - as if there was a perfectly legitimate reason that she should. As if he can deliver all those presents in one night, she said- like she was trying to convince me. As if. Implying. . . how could anybody be so stupid as to actually believe one man, ONE MAN, could deliver all those presents. I wanted to say, uh, well. . you could be that stupid. In fact, you were that stupid. . .for seven years. As was I. And all of you. But I didn't. Thad be stupid. And mean. Bad fathering really.
Its funny how it finally dawns on us. One day we're totally buying it and the next day we're intellectual snobs, Santa, pfff, As if. The funny thing is nothing has changed. We haven't stumbled across some incriminating evidence linking the legend of Santa Claus to Wal-Mart or Tim Allen. We didn't catch our parents prancing around the house with presents in hand or bent down by the tree adjusting the gifts. I know for a fact my dad never pranced. Or bent down. So why I ask, why did we stop believing? And don't say we grew up or realized it was stupid because we have proved we are willing to believe in things a lot more far fetched then a nice man doling out gifts.
For example, how many of you are Flames fans? Still think their gonna win the cup?
How many of you are wives? Still think your man will be fart free one day?
How many of you are husbands? Still think your woman will come around on the whole farting thing?
See what I mean.
John
Its funny how it finally dawns on us. One day we're totally buying it and the next day we're intellectual snobs, Santa, pfff, As if. The funny thing is nothing has changed. We haven't stumbled across some incriminating evidence linking the legend of Santa Claus to Wal-Mart or Tim Allen. We didn't catch our parents prancing around the house with presents in hand or bent down by the tree adjusting the gifts. I know for a fact my dad never pranced. Or bent down. So why I ask, why did we stop believing? And don't say we grew up or realized it was stupid because we have proved we are willing to believe in things a lot more far fetched then a nice man doling out gifts.
For example, how many of you are Flames fans? Still think their gonna win the cup?
How many of you are wives? Still think your man will be fart free one day?
How many of you are husbands? Still think your woman will come around on the whole farting thing?
See what I mean.
John
Friday, November 02, 2007
I got a new job
I've become what you might call a "city transit guy". Angie takes the kids to school and because we're not a 2 car family I'm stuck riding the train. I say stuck like I just pushed order on the arsenic site and I'm making plans to off my wife. The truth is, I'm happy to ride and even happier with our new system. I get more time to read and Angie gets more time out and about as she calls it.
Because of this system I've gotten into a bit of a routine, which I never thought I'd like, but its actually kind of cool. Alarm goes off at the same time. Having only 14 minutes before my bus leaves yet still needing to dry off, get dressed, wipe peanut butter on my toast and throw last night's dinner into my backpack. Then whipping out the door while kissing the family goodbye and trotting across the road with only seconds to spare. Its kinda fun.
When I arrive on the bus I usually end up sitting by some woman over 50 because I've disocovered they're the nicest and don't mind scooting over a bit to accomadate my enormous bu. . .its a wierd phenomenon actually, the rest of me is skinny. As I ride I read. It only ever amounts to like 18 minutes but its a great way start to my day. Currently I'm reading this. I highly recommend it btw, hilarious and poignant.
Anyways, about a month ago, I began to notice this black fella as I got off at my last stop. He was handing out The Metro to everyone who would take it. The first few weeks I just ran on by, having already read the thing, but lately I've taken a bit more time to notice. The guy is cheerful. Unbelievably so. I can't imagine a worse job then handing out free newspapers in the worst area of town to a bunch of hooligans and grouchoes. Most people just run on past, including me, but lately I've slowed my pace and noticed. Good morning sir he'll say, in a british accent and so I'll reciprocate. . .Good morning. Last week I tried something different adding- I've already read it - to my repetoire. He'd laugh then say something to the effect of "I just missed you then." I would then skip off to work having just been cheered up by a man with no reason to be cheerful.
This morning I couldn't help myself. As I came down the stairs I reached out and grabbed his arm and did the squeeze shake thing. It was wierd, and corny, but the guy is just so dang cheerful I had to do something. As I grabbed him I said "haha, I already read it" which in retrospect was beyond moronic but he flashed his smile anyway and said "I just missed you then" then laughed a nice hearty laugh. I'm reminded of The Truman Show here but it really did go down like that.
As I bounded off to work I began to reflect on the difference this man has made in my life. His chosen career includes handing out free news to the disinterested yet he acts like its the best job he's ever had. It's made me realize many things but the biggest is: best jobs are relative. We can choose to love what we do or we can choose to be unsatisfied and pursue something else. This man has chosen to love what he does and because of that, he's helped me do the same.
I told someone last week I got a new job. They were shocked. But they don't know this man.
John
Because of this system I've gotten into a bit of a routine, which I never thought I'd like, but its actually kind of cool. Alarm goes off at the same time. Having only 14 minutes before my bus leaves yet still needing to dry off, get dressed, wipe peanut butter on my toast and throw last night's dinner into my backpack. Then whipping out the door while kissing the family goodbye and trotting across the road with only seconds to spare. Its kinda fun.
When I arrive on the bus I usually end up sitting by some woman over 50 because I've disocovered they're the nicest and don't mind scooting over a bit to accomadate my enormous bu. . .its a wierd phenomenon actually, the rest of me is skinny. As I ride I read. It only ever amounts to like 18 minutes but its a great way start to my day. Currently I'm reading this. I highly recommend it btw, hilarious and poignant.
Anyways, about a month ago, I began to notice this black fella as I got off at my last stop. He was handing out The Metro to everyone who would take it. The first few weeks I just ran on by, having already read the thing, but lately I've taken a bit more time to notice. The guy is cheerful. Unbelievably so. I can't imagine a worse job then handing out free newspapers in the worst area of town to a bunch of hooligans and grouchoes. Most people just run on past, including me, but lately I've slowed my pace and noticed. Good morning sir he'll say, in a british accent and so I'll reciprocate. . .Good morning. Last week I tried something different adding- I've already read it - to my repetoire. He'd laugh then say something to the effect of "I just missed you then." I would then skip off to work having just been cheered up by a man with no reason to be cheerful.
This morning I couldn't help myself. As I came down the stairs I reached out and grabbed his arm and did the squeeze shake thing. It was wierd, and corny, but the guy is just so dang cheerful I had to do something. As I grabbed him I said "haha, I already read it" which in retrospect was beyond moronic but he flashed his smile anyway and said "I just missed you then" then laughed a nice hearty laugh. I'm reminded of The Truman Show here but it really did go down like that.
As I bounded off to work I began to reflect on the difference this man has made in my life. His chosen career includes handing out free news to the disinterested yet he acts like its the best job he's ever had. It's made me realize many things but the biggest is: best jobs are relative. We can choose to love what we do or we can choose to be unsatisfied and pursue something else. This man has chosen to love what he does and because of that, he's helped me do the same.
I told someone last week I got a new job. They were shocked. But they don't know this man.
John
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