On, On, Brief Candle!

How I Spent My Last Weekend

2008-06-13T07:46:00.006-07:00

My daughter is sorely in need of time management skills. The apple did indeed fall far from the tree.

The situation last Friday night was this: Shaula had no idea, after having six weeks to think about her Grade 6 Social Studies assignment, how she was going to build a model of her chosen city, Tokyo. What she did know was the due date--Tuesday.

She toyed with the idea of a Japanese shopping mall, but left it at that.

I suggested doing a model of Ginza. We ran with that.

Had anyone called me anytime Saturday, he would've been treated to the background din of Michael's, Daiso, and Staples. Fortuitously, Michael's had a sale on acrylic paints, foam board, and sponge brushes.

Sunday was a gruelling twelve-hour family craftathon that left me sore for the next two days. My upper legs ached from being on all fours on the kitchen floor cutting foam board with a utility knife.

The result by the end of that day was a whole square block of Tokyo!, sans lamp posts and LED lighting. We installed these two items late Monday.

NOTE: the foam board warped, making it look like there’s a lot of lens distortion in the following pics.

Fizz Soda Billboard

Looking down Soya Road

Looking up Soya Road

Headquarters of a great company (red LEDs lighting up the windows)

Woodland Park Zoo, Seattle: Part 1 of 2

2007-09-01T22:24:00.000-07:00

We spent a whole sunny day on the grounds of Seattle's Woodland Park Zoo, our first visit.

This was taken in the Butterflies and Blooms Pavilion, where the critters land on and alight from your hand.

Komodo Dragon.

Orangutan in the Tropical Asia "Trail of Vines" area.

Bald Eagle from the park's Northern Trail.

A very tame parakeet.

Taken with my Pentax K10D and DA 50-200mm f/4-5.6, DA 16-45mm f/4, and FA 50 f/1.4 Pentax lenses.

I'm curious about where some of the zoo's animals are housed (its tigers, giraffes, etc.) when winter comes—indooors, I suppose.

Barnes And Noble, Bellevue

2007-08-31T22:07:00.000-07:00

I spent a few hours at the Barnes and Noble in Bellevue last week. I picked up the following (Buy Two, Get the Third Free!) at US prices, which, given the favourable exchange rate, ended up being a pretty good deal.

Bel Canto because it sounds and looks interesting, and seems to have garnered a lot of positive reviews.

Stardust because the movie adaptation is currently playing at the theatres.

Kitchen Confidential because two of my brothers recommend it. One of them is a chef.

BTW, my five-year old and I got into a tiff. Because there were no children books to his liking (and mine), and he didn't want to leave the bookstore empty-handed, he started to pick up anything and everything for purchase. After several terse "No"s, the silly boy took off from me. I found him at the opposite side of the store, flipping through the pages of a magazine. He spent his timeout back at the hotel room closet.

The ZEOS zeitgeist

2007-08-04T00:07:00.001-07:00

Flipping through a 1993 issue of PC/Computing magazine brought back a flood of memories of my computer distribution days (at a now-defunct wholesaler). This was when OKIDATA, NEC, AST, Hayes, Harvard Graphics, Nanao, Conner, CompuServe, and Quarterdeck ruled the roost or were players in their respective areas.

Lotus and WordPerfect were already on the wane and Dell was on its ascendancy.

So many sales calls on so many by-gone products and brands.

Even the magazine bit the dust. Remember Creative Computing and recent victim Byte? There I go again lamenting the passage of time—sorry. The November 1993 issue pictured here had 546 pages, and if page count is any measure of the peak of a New Idea, then the Golden Age of home computing had played itself out fifteen years ago.

There was one familiar name on the masthead of that magazine, that of Penn Jillette, penning [!] an article about Uma Thurman and public-key encryption. Penn's one of my favourite entertainers. No Bullsh!t.

***

ZEOS—The Company That Didn't.

***

Conner—Can you make that an MFM drive, please?, RLLs are so yesterday.

Mindfulness

2007-07-26T07:45:00.000-07:00

A relative warned me about the person sharing the semi-private hospital room with my father-in-law. He looks like a gang member, a young Chinese guy with body jewellery, I was told. Did you talk to him?, I asked. No, was the reply, he was too scary-looking.

We went down to VGH later that evening. The roommate was asleep, the mouth of his foreign face agape, and shirtless, his slight brown upper body showing. I told Shaula and Matthew to keep it down. As Betty's father recounted his day, he mentioned that his roommate was scheduled for some scans and exploratory tests. Betty's dad took in much of what the doctors and nurses said because his roommate spoke only Cantonese and required the services of a translator.

My father-in-law has since returned home. Before his discharge, he overheard the results of his neighbour's tests—there was little anyone could do to save him. The patient asked the doctors whether going to the US could result in a different outcome, and was told no, his liver cancer was too advanced.

The "gang member", the "scary-looking" tough guy, I would learn, spent much of the time during my father-in-law's two-night stay in agony, sobbing, in tears—crying.

Last Weekend

2007-07-24T16:45:00.000-07:00

Sunday. Off to Tiffany & Co., where we were helped by an associate reminiscent of über actress Uma Thurman. Then it was chic and tony Robson Street for some chow at celebrity haunt Cin Cin. The sign on the door said Open at 5:00PM, so we improvised and lunched at the IDIBC award-winning Tropika instead. We sat across from A-List news anchor Mi-Jung Lee. The afternoon ended with a jaunt over to the VAG for the Monet To Dalí exhibition.

Since I'm on a roll dropping names left and right, Suzanne Vega owns one of my B&W prints. I have an autographed copy of Hans Fenger's The Langley Schools Music Project, and happen to know somebody who once got Sarah McLachlan's husband upset by accidently sitting on his jacket at the Juno Awards. And when people say "Les Miz", I know they mean Les Misérable, that's how "in" I am.

Toodle-loo for now!

***

On a more serious note, I would recommend the Monet to Dalí show. The paintings and sculptures are the real things, on loan from the Cleveland Museum of Art. I was especially thrilled by one of the side rooms: flanking Rousseau's Fight Between a Tiger and a Buffalo were a Max Ernst and a Dalí (see paintings below).

The exhibition catalogue, good as it is, is no substitute for looking at the originals, more like frottage. The Matisses hanging on the walls were more vibrant than the reproductions of them in the book, for instance, and a sense of scale is altogether lost in printed form—Dalí's The Dream is physically rather small, requiring very small strokes and a steady hand to render the tiny background figures, something not apparent to the reader.

So yeah, it's worth the trip down there, if not just for the people watching.

It's Mostly a Nonfiction Week!

2007-07-15T07:27:00.000-07:00

Three hundred pages into this 700-page memoir, Hollywood Animal, and it's still going strong. If I'm not too lazy, I'll post a capsule review. Sure is one ugly jacket cover, though.

I've read two of Harpur's books over the last two decades. Water Into Wine is his most recent. Another "god"-awful dust jacket design.

I already have the softcover edition of To See Every Bird on Earth, but at $6, couldn't resist picking up the hardcover as well.

my new filing technique is unstoppable consists of sets of one-page clipart-based comic strips. Oddly, each strip does not end with a punch line. The title caught my eye, a quick skim, and I had to buy. $2 at Chapters.

Let me mention that I'm sweating profusely while typing these words out. I almost slipped off the seat, I'm so bloody warm....

My next read will mostly likely be Lolita.

Canada Day 2007

2007-07-02T22:44:00.000-07:00

We went down to Steveston on Canada Day for the Salmon Festival. Parking was a nightmare, probably because we arrived so late. The parade was already over. We ended up parking almost 2km away from the heart of the festivities, on a sidestreet. Our first stop was for lunch at a small Mexican restaurant, a little off the beaten path.

I ordered a mild chicken burrito to share with Matthew along with a hot-as-hell habanero version for myself. It was so hot that I started to tear and my nose turned red. Shaula accused me of trying to poison her when she sampled some. Needless to say, our next stop was for ice cream to quench the burning.

What follows are snapshots of some of the activities.

Entertainment, crafts, a trade show, booths, and a huge kids' play area at the Steveston Community Centre.

Free Sun Chips and Brisk beverages.

The folks from Sirius Satellite Radio Canada were out in force. I've recently ended my subscription with them—just having XM will do.

Watching the buskers.

Several blocks were closed to traffic. I've never seen so many white folks in one place in Richmond as today. :-)

We're definitely going back next year. Maybe we'll even find the Japanese Canadian Cultural Centre where, I'm told, they have the salmon barbeque.

***

Shaula explained tying shoelaces to Matthew as "strangling one bunny ear with another."

***

Gray is to silver as yellow is to gold.

Heart Surgery

2007-07-02T19:45:00.000-07:00

My dad went to the hospital last Tuesday morning for a stress test on the treadmill. He had been complaining about a sore left shoulder and being out of breath when out on his walks, and had finally convinced his GP to order some tests, that the pain was not caused by rheumatism. And a good thing too: my father tested "positive" [for heart disease, I presume—the attending physician was not exactly forthcoming with information] , and needed to stay in the hospital for observation. He had an angiogram the next day at St. Paul's to determine the extent of the blockage.

Fast-forward to today, Monday. My dad's going under the knife tomorrow afternoon for a triple bypass. He should come to at around 5:00PM.

My recommendation is that he change doctors.

And All I Got Were These Two Pictures...

2007-06-24T08:51:00.000-07:00

We took advantage of the forecasted sunny breaks of what was otherwise a mixed-bag weekend by heading out to Kitsilano early Saturday morning. We had brunch at Sophie's Cosmic Café, my third time there in the past ten years or so. My conclusion as to its popularity is Location Location Location. It certainly can't be the food— not bad by any means, but nothing special. There is also the people-watching aspect. While Betty and the kids were across the street at the Lululemon mothership, I stood in line for about fifteen minutes behind three women who got intimate by running their fingers through each other's hair and then caressing one another.

Nutritional needs out of the way, I walked along West 4th looking for photogenic store fronts. I noticed something new. The display books at Duthie's all had elastic bands tied around them, to keep the pages from flipping open and getting damaged (an educated explanation on my part). I saw the same treatment at Brigid's Used Books on West Broadway later that day.

I eavesdropped on a few conversations. One was between a past-middle-age gentleman and a twenty-something bookseller. They were talking about the struggle and sacrifice one has to make to become a professional musician. One of them mentioned that Weezer once opened for a now-forgotten local band at the Anza Club, and that the White Stripes, in its early days, played the Student Union Building out at UBC.

I learned one other thing—more a confirmation of what I already know, really. Nice, clean, well-to-do shopping districts make for poor photography. All I got were the following two shots of Pez dispensers.

***

An old co-worker of Betty's spotted us at a food court Friday evening. She (the co-worker, not Betty, let's be perfectly clear now) was so despicable I wanted to change my sexual orientation right there and then.

***

I had the pleasure to use the following words this weekend: ramshackle, chubby, and hog (as in not sharing).

Adjust Underwear

2007-06-22T23:07:00.000-07:00

To be young again...

Swades, A Review, 4/5*

2007-06-19T23:23:00.000-07:00

Swades comes highly recommended by a workplace friend. The film is about an NRI (non-resident Indian) professional working in the US who decides to spend two weeks in India to bring his boyhood caretaker back to America. While there, he falls in love with a childhood friend, Gita, and finds himself fully immersed in the culture and drawn to its people and traditions. Weeks become months. Begrudgingly, he returns to the US alone. After the predictable lack of sleep and restlessness, he sacrifices his very promising career as a program manager at NASA and returns to India to better his people and find happiness and love. [I’m an expert on Indian film now, this being my first full-length feature from that country, all three hours of it.]

I can see why Swades resonates with my friend, himself an NRI, and a Compaq, Canon, and Creative Labs owner: the main character, Mohan, travels back to his homeland in style, armed with a digital camera and a notebook computer—electronics being the first things NRIs buy when they land on these shores.

And like Mohan, I suspect every tech worker sent out west has to juggle success and progress with tradition and spirituality, both personally and collectively as part of the newly globally affluent. The film addresses this struggle as one branch on a tree, then tackles the tree and finally the forest—India herself. Issues such as the emancipation of women, poverty and the caste system, and the ineffectiveness of government are brought to the fore.

While I can’t speak for my dear young friend, I can understand better his hesitation when answering the oft-asked question “Why not stay, surely things are better here than in India?”

***

I didn’t care much for the singing and dancing, minimal as it was, especially Gita's parts. An acquired taste, no doubt. Nevertheless, Swades gets a few bonus points from me. Any film that mentions the stars and showcases a telescope, even a flimsy one of the department store variety, gets an additional ½ star rating. Also, all the technical NASA-speak shores up my belief that program managers in fact do nothing. And oh yes, wrestling, no matter what country you’re in, is just not a normal activity.

All-in-all a good movie with tender and humourous moments. Other apt titles could very well have been "Crossroads", or, "A Tale Of Two Indias". Now, everybody, go light your bulbs!

BTW, I am told that NRI jokingly stands for “non-returning” Indians for a large number of those working in the States.

Some Profound Thoughts, and Real Estate

2007-06-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

If I were to start a music band, I'd call it Convenience Store.

***

I thought about my old friend Robert Lin while shopping at Chapters this evening. Pity that he isn't around anymore. I'm sure he would've shared a thought or two with me about the Asian customer perusing the newsstand with her caucasian male companion. I ended up buying Cormac McCarthy's The Road for $9.99.

***

I've read that bananas are on the list of foods preferred by test pilots because it tastes pretty good in vomit form. Along these lines, my A-list of pleasant after-meal burp foods include the Big Mac and smoked oysters.

***

Earlier last week, we made an appointment to view the house next door. Once again, we weren't impressed with the floor plan, decor, upkeep, and anticipated reno cost, certainly not at the exorbitant asking price. We weren't thrilled with the realtor either—he unabashedly farted while talking to me about home theatres, and then again while extolling the sweet sound of tube-based stereo amplifiers. He also gave us some lame explanation for the ants crawling across the reception room floor—that they had gotten a ride into the house via a rolled-up newspaper. Matthew and Shaula spent the rest of the visit chuckling among themselves, explaining to me later that they had heard the realtor fart while he was busily stomping on the ants.

***

I'm getting into Facebook now. Everybody and their cats and dogs are there.

***

I booked the whole day off today to take my father-in-law to VGH for two CT scans, and to do lunch with a friend at Milestone's. Nice to see her again.

This Much I've Learnt...

2007-06-11T22:03:00.001-07:00

Paint peels
Cars rust
Photos fade
Things break
—and —
People perish

Old Magazines: September 1991

2007-05-28T23:02:00.001-07:00

In anticipation of moving to more commodious quarters, I've spent the past few days sifting through all the magazines I've accumulated over the years with the aim of recycling the bulk of them. I'm trying to minimize how much we have to transport, so this has been a great opportunity to throw away out-dated and no longer important brochures and how-to's, most of which have been updated and made freely available on the tree-friendly Internet.

Our sexual mores can change in a matter of decades, but looking at the following Pentax ad from the September 1991 issue of the recently defunct Petersen's PHOTOgraphic magazine, apparently the same fate befalls our collective graphic arts sensibilities. Sheesh!

Here's something we won't see on the cover of any current magazine—a slide film showdown. I got pretty excited way back whenever the mags did this sort of test. As far as I know, Velvia and Kodachrome are either dead or moribund.

The September issue also featured a long Darkroom Basics article. Inside, to drum up sales, the magazine mentions that new subscribers are eligible to win a top-of-the-line Beseler enlarger. I think I'll add enlarger to the list already containing the ditto machine, typewriter, cassette deck, and the VCR.

Mother's Day Card 2007

2007-05-23T20:17:00.001-07:00

This is the card Shaula made for Betty. Demented, no? I'm trying to digitize artefacts like this to reduce clutter. The paper version has been consigned to the big blue box in the sky.

Random Thoughts For May

2007-05-22T21:39:00.000-07:00

Betty and I have this notion of a "Sunday Deep", which is a short, but very deep, Sunday afternoon nap. It usually takes 15 minutes to snap out of an SD, before one's strength returns. I took an SD this long weekend, right after a trip to the local White Spot for a late lunch selected from the "Lifestyle" section of the menu, which usually means an anaemic green salad sprinkled with pine cones and bird seed.

What I really wanted is what Shaula ordered, pictured below, a Fettucine Alfredo, or perhaps a burger. But (sigh) I'm on a diet again... Sleeping after a meal is definitely not an auspicious start.

***

I can't stand spiders. They plain freak me out. I had two encounters last week. A brown one ran out from under my computer keyboard at work. The second incident saw one dangling from my bangs, then my glasses, right after I got out of the car from a lunch jaunt to Taco Del Mar. Lucky for me, they were smaller than house ants, so I did myself proud by managing to refrain from issuing high-pitched girly screams.

***

I saw this variation of Jean Jacques Rousseau's famous line in The 100-Mile Diet.

Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chainstores.

A Dedication

2007-05-16T22:55:00.001-07:00

They lost one of the good ones today, just let you walk away.

Freed of the keys once meant to let you in but now led you nowhere, you made your way down the stairwell one last time, the echoes of your footsteps applause to my ears for a job well done, reverberating in unison with a thought you shared—

I have been thinking about whether one should work at being just rather than good. People who are concerned with fairness or justice are people who know the difference.

So here's to truth, justice, daydreams, and a new beginning.

Mother India

2007-05-13T07:52:00.000-07:00

We took my mother out to an Indian (East African) restaurant Saturday evening. People of her generation and culture are pretty set in their ways and opinions—tunnel visioned, IMHO—so I wasn't surprised when the "oohs" and "aahs" weren't forthcoming as she tried (clockwise, from top left) the naan, tandoori chicken, butter chicken, and fish biryani, among other dishes.

She's been ill lately, complaining of fever and chills, and a general lack of energy and appetite, so that might partly explain her less than enthusiastic reaction.

***

Internet-savvy Shaula recently asked me to explain the term "pen pal". That certainly made me chuckle. Yep, I'm getting old. Had I been a professional hockey player in my younger days, I'd now either be a coach, a commentator, or just plain fat. A few month ago, I spent an evening looking at the bios of some centerfolds. Sagittarius, born 1960, one of them read. Taurus, 1962, read another. Okay, so I didn't feel as old anymore. But then it struck me that these were back issues from, like, 1979!

Did I say centerfolds? I meant hockey cards.

Rainy Day People

2007-05-06T22:44:00.000-07:00

The weatherman was once again wrong, dashing my plans of a day of picture taking at the local arboretum. Instead, I spent the afternoon walking the drizzly streets of my neighbourhood, taking shots of and "interviewing" some of the local shop denizens.

Everybody says I'm lucky because I was born with green eyes and blond hair, but if only they knew the truth. I don't do so well at school—mostly 'C's and a 'B' in Phys Ed (I like soccer). My dad's a big jerk who works the night shift, so life at home can get pretty rough. My complexion's pretty good, but I have open lesions—warts, I think—on my hands. I want to be a mechanic or play in the NHL. I have one brother, Jake.

-Danny

Before you pass judgement on me, I want you to know that I have my act together now. My boyfriend says I look like Sinéad O'Connor in this photo, but I don't think I'm nearly as pretty. I decided to shave my hair off when I started to lose big patches of it. My weight is back up and I'm not so wild anymore. When I look at how well all of my friends from high school are doing, I feel inspired. People tell me that I'm a very nice person and deserve better.

-XOX Jen

Last Days Of April

2007-04-29T22:02:00.001-07:00

Every April Betty and I have to file tax returns for seven people, a marathon of sorts.

We crossed the finish line at around 10:00PM Thursday night when we batch submitted all the files via the Internet. In anticipation of my refund, I had placed an order earlier that day for two Pentax lenses, a 12-24mm F4 ultrawide angle zoom, and the 77mm F1.8 Limited, reputed to be one of the best lenses ever produced by any company, bar none. Very, very hard to find in stock to boot. They arrived Friday, from Edmonton. I was impressed by the one-day delivery time, and the store's willingness to price-match.

On Saturday morning, we took Matthew to the doctor's for his immunization and chicken pox shots, in preparation for kindergarten come September. Took it like a man. In the afternoon, the four of us went to Wing Nuts on Main Street for a "small bite" that morphed into our very late lunch, a decadent one at that: deep-fried chicken wings and drumettes (skin-on, of course). Twelve Honey Garlics, twelve Smokehouse BBQs, six Spicy Thai Peanuts, six Jamaican Jerks, two cans of pop, and a side of fries later, we were off to Costco. I bought the latest issue of Men's Health there, probably out of guilt.

Sunday, I went to the Fred Herzog exhibition at the Vancouver Art Gallery (my second time) with two friends from work. I think they enjoyed the photos. I, for one, enjoyed their company, especially their astute remarks about Herzog's wonderful prints. We did lunch and parted ways.

Damn glad that tax season is over. And oh yes, I won a $300 travel package at work. Can things be any better?—a tax refund, a prize, and the Canucks in the playoffs! (Tongue firmly planted in cheek.)

Spring Collection #2

2007-04-24T20:25:00.001-07:00

High School Hip Spring Collection 2007

Glasses—frame by Flexon for Nike, lenses from IRIS Optical, $600, covered by the wife's health care plan, so $0
Jacket—by Club Monaco, approximately $29, bargain shelf
Top—by Somo Athletics, $19 from Costco
Pants—by American Eagle, approximately $30, bargain rack
Watch—by Zodiac (sapphire quartz), $80, the Fossil Factory Outlet, Marysville WA
Sneakers—by Skechers, $50, the Skechers Factory Outlet, Marysville WA

Hair—Eight weeks since the last cut, trying to prove to myself that I can still let my hair grow to the same length and thickness as in my high school days (decades ago!). Proved right, though I'm starting to pull a Richard Gere and tweezers have become my best friend.
Car—by Subaru, six years old with 76 000km and dirty seats
Location—East Vancouver

All-in-all, a much more extravagant clothing year than 2006! The stuff I have on adds up to way too much. I'll have to work on correcting that throughout the coming months.

Boobs (Still In Progress...)

2007-04-17T20:26:00.001-07:00

And I don't mean the "simpleton", "blunder", "boob-tube" variety, and certainly nothing to do with the tropical seabird.

Still in progress, been busy filing tax returns......

Vaisakhi Vancouver

2007-04-15T21:37:00.000-07:00

I'm glad the weather was good Saturday morning. Otherwise, I would've skipped this year's (and my first) Vaisakhi Parade here in Vancouver. We got to Little India at 11:30AM, just when the police was beginning to close a long strip of Main Street. We circled around till we found a parking spot three blocks away from the corner of Main and 49th, parked, and then hoofed it in.

The first stall—more of a makeshift food table—I visited surprised me. They were handing out plates of some spicey Indian rice. And further down the street, there were samosas, naan bread with chick peas, sweets. All free, unlike the food concessions at every other street festival I've been to. Near 52nd they were literally shoving juice boxes and bottled water into my hands.

Betty mentioned seeing homes literally opening their kitchens doors to serve hot food to passerbys, and concluded that generosity was the operative word of the day. I would have to agree, with the qualification that this generosity was not confined to the material world of food and drink, but applied equally to the spiritual world of kindness: While attempting to make a candid street shot, a woman stopped dead in her tracks and offered to pose with her child, with her smiling husband looking on. Another first. And get this. While I was looking through the viewfinder, carefully composing a vertically-framed shot, which meant I had one elbow high up in the air, I felt a jab near my armpit. A Sikh man in his sixties had quietly come up and was purposely attempting to wreck my concentration by tickling me with his finger!

Sathwick was also there in the throng taking pictures and getting fed, but we never met up. He later commented about how crowded it was.

As for the photography, it was very difficult because of all the people. This was echoed by Sathwick, and in a conversation I had with two D-SLR enthusiasts who were taking a break from the tumult. I didn't talk to them for long, though—smug Canon owners, you know.

Tight head shots was the only viable option, which is how I managed to get this:

As for the parade itself? I missed it altogether. We had to leave by 1:00PM to pick up Betty's sister (who was in from San Francisco) to give her a tour of Robson Street. Maybe next year, if the weather holds.

***

I've been using my cell phone in public more. All I have to do now to become a self-important asshole is to don some business attire.

Coming Soon

2007-04-09T20:50:00.000-07:00

Easter Long Weekend

2007-04-08T20:07:00.000-07:00

Betty and I took the kids to the fair at Lansdowne Centre. This has become an annual Spring tradition. We were game: I was eager to take some pictures with my new DSLR gear, Betty wanted to get some shopping in at the Winners store, and the kids were excited about the rides. A good time had by all.

Disappointingly, there were few photographic "keepers," especially given the fine weather and the rich colours typical of amusement park equipment and midways (I confess to being a colour junkie, and the more saturated, the better). Here is a paltry sampling.

The fledgling Photo Club at my workplace has "Spring" as its theme this month. I'll try my best to wrangle the above picture as an entry.

We had two extended family outings—turkey dinner at Betty's parents, and a Chinese banquet with my side of the family.

This weekend marks two whole months of financial self-control. My only "luxury" purchases to date have been a half-dozen photo mags. Why this restraint? Yep, you guessed it, all in the cause of some big ticket items: more lenses for the camera, and an Apple iMac!

Things As They Are #1

2007-04-08T17:07:00.000-07:00

Camera: Pentax K10D
Lens: Pentax DA 16-45mm F4 @ F9.5
Details: ISO 200, 3s
Support: Manfrotto 055 tripod with Slik SBH-320 ball head
Model Details: No shower/hair wash since going to the gym earlier that morning, i.e., unkempt
Note: Existing light self-portrait

Vancouver International Auto Show

2007-04-02T21:11:00.001-07:00

I went to the car show over the weekend principally to take pictures. Because there were so many people milling around the vehicles, my assessment was that closeup shots was the only option. Besides, when it comes to cars, it's all about the lines and curves and details, so I kept to that spirit.

***

I'm letting my hair grow for one more week. It's getting bushy. I intend to make one final environmental self-portrait—meaning in this case a non-studio photographic image of myself at home—of my fading glory days, before all of my hairs fade to white.

***

Two co-workers treated me to a belated birthday lunch today, really nice of them. We went to a company haunt, Seto's Japanese restaurant.

***

The sun was behind just the right kind of cloud on my way to work this morning, looking like a very bright full moon. I've never seen its disk like that before.

Benedictus #2

2007-03-29T18:25:00.000-07:00

May your heart purr like a bumblebee
May all your backyards have a tree
May you always be HIV negative
I hope you meet a nice guy who
Treats women better than I do

-from Sister, by Dan Bern

Click here for Benedictus #1.

Vancouver Rain #1

2007-03-27T22:22:00.000-07:00

Camera: Pentax K10D
Lens: Pentax DA 50-200mm f/4-5.6 @ f/6.7
Details: ISO 400, 1/45s, handheld panning, pre-focused on puddle
Location: Kingsway near Willingdon
Lunch: Sashimi and sushi

Practice Versus Theory

2007-03-27T20:35:00.002-07:00

How is it that we can treat a complete stranger or a pet with unconditional kindness, but then turn around and be cruel to a family member, friend, or a co-worker?

This incongruity—the dichotomy of what we know in theory versus what we practice—has been weighing heavily on my mind. Perhaps it's a case of "as long as it's not in my backyard" thinking. The tsunami survivor, the little boy in the newspaper with leukemia, the impoverished—they are low-hanging fruit on some faraway tree, and hence easy to "love" because, ultimately, they are somebody else's problem.

Up close, our warts and bruises are all too apparent, perhaps dashing—certainly changing—our expectations of each other, this intimacy often bringing out the worst in us. People aren't the ideal gases we learn about in high school chemistry. We are real and complex, and have a tendency to run yellow traffic lights contrary to what we tell our kids.

My line of thinking is that to be genuinely kind, it's crucial we apply what we learn in the lab to what's really out there.

***

I came across Jacob Needleman's latest book, Why Can't We Be Good, at the Metrotown Chapters store. It'll be my next purchase, maybe it'll shed some light.

***

I twice gave to the Red Cross recently. I wish they would stop making and sending me those Canadian scenic calendars, the ones with lighthouses.

Two Thoughts

2007-03-26T21:45:00.003-07:00

What matters most in life, and especially in death, is that I once mattered to somebody.

***

Guilt is Nature's way of preventing us from making complete assholes of ourselves.

Another Year Gone By

2007-03-25T14:57:00.000-07:00

Discharged

2007-03-23T21:37:00.001-07:00

Good news. My mother was discharged from the Acute Care Elders unit. I went after work with Betty to pick her up. She has more follow up exams next week. If there's one good thing that came out of all this, it's that she received a very, very, thorough physical examination.

***

Daily Summary:

Dissed by somebody: 1
Compliments received: 2
Compliments paid: 1
People whose feelings I hurt: 0

All in all, a decent day at work.

The Matriarch

2007-03-22T21:45:00.001-07:00

I dropped my dad off at the hospital this evening. He's spending the night with my mother. He took with him some baked goods, two slices of pizza, and a thermos of tea.

She had fallen face-first onto the sidewalk while out for a stroll to mail a letter two days ago. Her legs had buckled underneath her. She somehow managed to make it back home. While my dad was cleaning the blood off her face, Shaula had the presence of mind to call me on my cell, this week being Spring Break for the kids. I phoned my mother, who, as it turned out, downplayed the severity of her injuries.

When I saw her after work, I was taken aback by her bruised face. The left eye had swollen shut, and the area around that eye and her forehead were scratched and discoloured. In hindsight, a 911 call should've been placed immediately after the incident, and I should've taken her to the nearest hospital the moment I got home. My sister-in-law was absolutely correct in saying that my mother needed to go to Emerg as soon as possible: she might have suffered a concussion, develop a blood clot, and probably needs a tetanus shot.

I took her to VGH that evening and she's been there since.

Her vitals are fine, but she has a viral infection of some sort, this perhaps explaining the loss of strength in her legs and her recent complaint of a general lack of energy.

They've since subjected her to a battery of lab work, given her a CT Head scan, X-rays of her chest and left wrist (no broken bones there), an ECG, and a tetanus shot.

The findings are: She

has an infection, but not urinary in nature (my mother has had a lot of blood in her urine of late)
had broken her occiptal orbital and cheek bones
has a subdural hematoma. This needs monitoring.

***

Instead of the regular family dinner fare, we've been eating KFC and pizza for the last two days. Betty and I and brother number two are doing the dishes.

My mother's absence—now that she's been away for two days—elevates her, in my eyes, to matriarch.

St. Patrick's Day Parade 2007

2007-03-18T20:38:00.002-07:00

We went downtown this Sunday to take in our first St. Patrick's Day Parade. We split up early. Betty and the kids went to check out the stalls, which left me free to take pictures.

This year's parade route takes the procession northbound along Howe Street, then eastward along Smithe, before heading down Granville.

Thinking myself smart, I stationed myself at Howe and Smithe, with a due-south head-on view right down the middle of Howe Street. Such a vantage point ought to minimize any difficult-to-capture horizontal motion, or so I thought.

Well, was I ever wrong. I've come to the conclusion that taking good parade pictures is no easy task. Aside from all the movement and the fat-headed spectators and officials who obscure the line of sight, the number one determinant of good or bad shots is definitely location.

The problem with where I was situated was that the participants and pipe bands were already starting to make their turn onto Smithe well before the crosswalk, amounting to close-up horizontal motion and prematurely turned heads [did I just coin a new phrase?]. And this was the killer: because I was looking right down the middle of Howe Street, this meant capturing a swath of sky and then having to override the camera's meter reading depending on whether the sky was cropped out of the frame or not. I was constantly fiddling with the exposure compensation button on the camera and messing up. (A fixed exposure setting would have been of no use because the incident light was variable.)

As it turned out, the best pics were those taken post-parade, at the stalls. Today also marked my first foray into candid street photography, a scary endeavour not for the meek or socially inept.

***

A Celtic Celebrant Eating Sushi

Stovetop Snaps #1

2007-03-15T22:04:00.000-07:00

To be a boy. A human boy. Hahahaha! The audacity! The outrage!

Camera: Pentax K10D
Lens: Pentax FA 50mm f/1.4 @ f/4
Details: ISO 400, 1/30s, handheld
Support: From the top rung of an Adorama LadderKart
Stove: Frigidaire
Photographer's Underwear: by Calvin Klein
Note: First of a series of bare-bulb photos taken on top of our stove.

From The Archives #1

2007-03-13T20:43:00.001-07:00

This was the family pet, Spike, AKA "Lucky" (~1982 - ~1994). He had to be put down. For his last meal, my mother made him pork chops, his favourite.

Nope, I didn't use Photoshop to add a faux vintage look to the photo. The image quality was typical of the technology back in those days. :-(
The print has also been mishandled over the years. I'm the aggressive-looking chap on the right.

***

BTW, today marks exactly one year of blogging. What's the next big thing for me? Photos, lots of 'em. Stay tuned.

I'm Doing Alright

2007-03-12T21:04:00.000-07:00

I always feel uncomfortable whenever somebody says that I've done well for myself (not that this happens often). Relative to whom or what?

Two instances come to mind.
- A family member mentioned to his acquaintance that, financially, I've done well myself. This was shortly after my previous employer got bought out by my current company and a small windfall blew my way.
- My cousin declared to an older couple that, like her, I'm married with children, and have done well for myself.

Why this uneasiness about a compliment? I guess I've never measured myself by how much money I have, or by my progeny count. The $64,000 question [pun intended] is whether or not I would have a different attitude had I been the male equivalent of a bag lady. Or the male equivalent of Paris Hilton. I don't think I can answer that.

Sure, I get the infrequent "more-is-better", "wouldn't-it-be-great-if-I-had" pang from time to time, but they last no longer than a urinal flush. But this much I know, I do not want to be measured by the number of bathrooms in my house.

Tell me instead that I take great pictures (lie if you have to!), or that I have responsible, sensitive children—now that's praise I can handle.

A Few Pictures From The Trip To Vancouver Island

2007-03-07T19:27:00.000-08:00

I was initially hesitant about taking my camera gear with me on the trip to Port Alberni—as a rule, funerals are rather sombre affairs, not exactly chock-full of Kodak moments. To boot, the forecast called for rain. But came along my Pentax did.

I took this picture of Third Avenue from just outside the Chinese Canadian Society building, where the reception was held. Nothing special, just a shot of the town's main drag. Almost makes the place seem like a big city and not the dying town it really is. I was surprised to see so much traffic for a Monday afternoon.

The mountain to the north is part of the Beaufort Range.

This is the ferry terminal at Departure Bay, Nanaimo. I took this shot for two reasons, the first being the magic and dreams the terminal once promised a younger version of yours truly, the bay being the gateway to Vancouver, the "big city". The second was to show Diana Krall fans who've never been to Nanaimo what the place looks like (at the very least, the congested part of it).

Here's the money shot, the reason I decided to lug my camera along. These are the mountains northwest of Vancouver, captured with a telephoto lens (at a 200mm setting) from aboard an undulating ship in fading light, and shot through a thick, non-optical quality bow window. I figure it turned out okay.

***

Betty took the bus this morning and sat behind a lady who had her hair tied up in a bun. Unfortunately, Betty spent the better part of an hour staring at the lady's linty, flakey, and obviously never-washed hairless area behind her ears.

My Aunt Florence

2007-03-05T22:34:00.002-08:00

If there's one thing I've learned recently, it's that things really do get old and break.

***

My aunt Florence died on February 16th from non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, at the age of 77, eleven days after being admitted to the hospital, and three days after admitting to herself that it was finally time to inform her identical twin sister—my mother—that her life was about to end.

She went to the hospital February 5th to get some test results, but never went home.

I drove my parents to the Emergency Department at VGH on Valentine's Day. My aunt had apparently suffered a heart attack while being prepped for a battery of tests and ended up staying in the Cardiac Care Unit. She was lucid when we arrived, albeit feverish, but nevertheless managed to crack a joke. I said little more than a hello before being shooed away by the nurse (there was a two-visitor-at-a-time limit). It was unnerving to see her—basically my mother—lying there dying. My cousins informed me that they had just been given her prognosis: she was at the last stage of the cancer and had at most two to three weeks to live. My aunt's husband, who worked alongside my father at their grocery store for over 30 years, was a broken man.

Florence died two days later, at noon on a Friday, while I was at work complaining about my tuna salad sandwich.

***

The service and burial took place in our hometown. My aunt had recently moved from there (last October, to be exact) to be with her younger daughter and son and their grandchildren. One of her last wishes was to be laid to rest beside her parents. It was granted.

Because my aunt's condition took a sudden nosedive, she was spared a protracted body-wasting battle. She looked good, arms peacefully crossed, hand over hand.

As the coffin was being lowered, her son-in-law, Tony, was near the edge of the grave, gently rocking the infant car seat holding Aunt Florence's three-month old grandson. Diminished, life goes on.

***

The reception was at the Chinese Canadian Society building, formerly the Jehovah's Witnesses' Hall, with food provided by the Pine Cafe (a local Chinese institution). The experience was for me like the penultimate scene in Cinema Paradiso, when Salvatore returns for Alfredo's funeral. On the wall was a photo of my father when he was in his fifties. And in person, but without the bad makeup of the movie, were Mrs. Yuen, still pretty after 30 years; the once young buck Tony L., still strong, but greatly greyed; the red-faced Fook G., now with a walking stick; and Monty M., still worthy of a few mean laughs but much, much, older.

And in some weird way, I love these people and wouldn't want them any other way.

***

I told my cousins that their mother was always kind to me. They confided that I was one of her favourite nephews.

I Believe

2006-12-05T08:03:00.000-08:00

I believe in snow
I believe in birth
And that
If I just let go
I would hit the earth

***

Natural Beauty

2006-11-23T21:25:00.001-08:00

Edge-on spiral galaxy.

Tulip tree, Vancouver.

Voyager 1 (false colour) image of Jupiter's Great Red Spot.

Pamela The Gardener

2006-11-16T22:27:00.000-08:00

If you're smart, you're smart, regardless of any formal education.

***

She had the most beautiful garden in the neighbourhood, easily besting the ghetto of Chinese yards choked by the weed-like tendrils of squash and melon. The little plot of her rental home often drew admirers and visitors in better days, but this became especially pronounced during the week before it all came to an end. A steady stream of fellow gardeners came by that final week with shovels and containers to take away whatever was proffered that caught their fancy.
She and her husband were in their sixties. I had no idea what they did for a living or if they were retired. Her husband did mention to me late one night in slightly accented English (we were looking at a star cluster through my telescope) that he had once studied navigational astronomy back in Israel. She spoke with a British lilt, wore glasses, and donned a bonnet whenever it was sunny. She looked, sounded, and acted like somebody with a formal education.

On the day before the bulldozer was scheduled to arrive, I lamented to her about the loss of her garden and her predicament—and for the first time asked what her name was. It was Pamela. Pamela, lover of flowers and trees, neighbour of ten years.

The new neighbour's yard is barren, home to neither leaf nor bee.

***

I took November 7th off to take my mother-in-law to Mount Saint Joseph Hospital to get her cataract removed. In the waiting room was a thin caucasian woman, probably in her late sixties, a splitting image of Pamela. Aha!, I thought to myself, a formally educated woman, no doubt a biology major. Fortuitously, I was able to confirm my hunch, for she effectively recounted her whole life story to the person sitting beside her. She and her husband live on Cortes Island. Her husband was the one in for a procedure. He was once a tenured professor and was called to the bar. She attended the University of Toronto and took some biochemistry. I raptly listened to her tale about her undergrad calculus course taught by Lister Sinclair. He was apparently a strange bird for whom the teaching post was merely a stepping stone to the CBC. For his lectures, he would scribble equations on the blackboard, without explanation, and then leave the classroom. But if somebody were to ask him about yesterday's concert, he would stop in his tracks, put down the chalk, and spend the rest of the hour talking about the arts. The class was so freaked out that nobody showed up to write the first term final exam. Sinclair made no mention of this absenteeism at the beginning of the second term.

***

I went by myself to Quiznos last week to take advantage of the about-to-expire "buy one get one free" sandwich deal. Behind me in the lineup were two guys in their late twenties, sharing the same coupon. This particular Quiznos caters to a mixed clientele—there were people in construction cheek by jowl with high-tech office workers—but for some reason, these two stood out in the crowd. I made a mental note that these guys looked well-read, educated, and had they had the chance, probably would've gone to the Deep South to protest segregation. On my way out, I caught a glimpse of them at their table. On it lay a copy of Scientific American, Richard Ford's The Sportswriter, and John Grisham's The Broker (two out of three ain't bad).

You know what? I'm getting pretty darn good at reading people solely based on dress and looks.

Good Morning Panwalla

2006-11-13T00:38:00.000-08:00

Betty's been obsessed with mastering Kuku Paka, an Ismaili chicken curry dish. Ismaili cooking incorporates the flavours of Arabia with its northern Indian origins.

The definitive English-language Ismaili cookbook appears to be Volumes I and II of Noorbanu Nimji's A Spicy Touch. Betty recalls seeing both volumes many years ago at a discount book bin but picked up only the first volume. So the hunt was on for volume II to complete the set. Sadly, volume II is no longer available at Amazon. Zilcho at Chapters. And even AbeBooks and Alibris came up empty. Fortunately, Betty was told by a co-worker that a store by the rather amusing name of Good Morning Panwalla on Main Street carried the titles.

We got there first thing last Saturday morning, too early, it turns out. While waiting for the store to open, I snapped the shot of the blue-eyed redhead you see here. In the end, the store didn't have the book in stock. The owner said to come back next Saturday.

***

On the subject of India, I had lunch with the contemporary Bengaluru philosopher S. Sathyaprakash. The proper life, he posited, adheres to

Simple living and high thinking.

I've been thinking exactly along these lines for the past while. A spartan, uncluttered life leaves a small environmental footprint, and more importantly, affords (at least in theory) the time to enjoy and contemplate what we do have. In one sense, a quiet, modest, contemplative existence versus a loud, vain, exploitative one. To be or to have. To sweep or to vacuum.

Ironically, the few individuals I know who seem to live by these precepts I can only describe as Zen masters in distress.

***

BTW, here's a shot of Kuku Paka as served at the Samosa Garden restaurant.

Something To Brighten Up The Wet Weekend

2006-11-12T21:48:00.000-08:00

We've been breaking daily rainfall records here in southwestern British Columbia, which pretty much spelled the end of the fall foliage photo-ops season. Here are two shots taken on the afternoon of October 22, 2006, before the rains, of a maple across the street from where I live. Had I an ultrawide angle lens, the first picture below would've been a spectacular fan of yellow and blue.

What would nature be without decay? Here are some rotting leaves lying on the street against the curb. An occupant of a nearby house said hello and asked if I was checking out my new camera. He was leaving for a fishing trip.

If one takes the time to dig a little deeper, even the mundane can take on a new life. I spent much of that afternoon collecting leaves. It turns out that there are no fewer than three types of maples lining the street—Sycamore Maples, Norways, and what I take to be Sugar Maples. This would explain the different colours and why certain trees shed their leaves earlier. It's taken me 12 years to realize this, far too long. My profound lack of knowledge about trees [I have to keep reminding myself that they too have DNA] prompted me yesterday to order this wonderful book, The Tree, by Colin Tudge.

Because I've been saving up for a digital SLR—right now it looks like the Pentax K10D—the book buying has calmed down significantly. However, I did drop by an A&B Sound store, a deserted one, I might add, to pick up a Neko Case DVD, and a Madeleine Peyroux CD. This disc, Officium, of ancient choral music (some dating back to before the 12th century), accompanied by a saxophone, has been spending some time in my CD players lately.

Halloween

2006-10-31T22:16:00.000-08:00

Dramatis Personae 2006
Shaula, age 10, as Geisha Girl
Matthew, age 4, as The Pumpkin
Gavin & Betty as The Semi-Bored Parents

The kids' trick-or-treating began at my parents-in-law's house and soon fanned out to their immediate neighbours, followed by a short drive to Shaula's friend's (Courtney) place. After a half-dozen more homes, Matthew got into the groove of things and became pretty cocky, running and forging ahead of us to knock on the doors, tripping twice in the process. This is a far cry from his anaemic 'fraidy cat showing last year. A few more houses and it was off to Rosemary's, an ex-co-worker of Betty's. Then it was homeward bound.

Unlike the previous ten years—Hey, Winnie, quick, turn out the lamp, here come the kids!—our block was ablaze with porch lights. Maybe the forecast of good weather brought out the extra goodwill. Betty took the kids up and down both sides of the maple-strewn street to the sights and sounds of fireworks going off in the nearby park. Below is a picture of Shaula's final booty, before parental sifting. Matthew ended up with pretty much the same loot.

***

As for me, I never once went out trick-or-treating. Or had friends over for my birthday. Or had many friends for that matter. Since we're on the topic of a deprived childhood, allow me to tell you something about my Christmases. Aside from the traditional Chinese red envelopes stuffed with money (and evidently, very little thought), the crowning childhood memory of my Christmas presents is when I received a restaurant-style napkin dispenser and a package of Chinese sausages from my aunt Florence—but even that was short-lived: the items were mine in name only. The dispenser and preserved meat were actually intended for my mother, so even these were taken away.

As I got older, I spent Halloween night at the local McDonalds parking lot trying to blend in with the egg throwers and petty mischief-makers. Times altogether unfulfilling and filled with angst.

***

My workplace treated everybody to some Halloween goodies this afternoon. Incongruously, all they served were Chinese egg roll biscuits in no fewer than three flavours, and hundreds of bubble tea drinks in various flavours. I'm still trying to figure this one out...

End Of The Day Ramblings

2006-10-26T19:18:00.000-07:00

Let me enumerate some of the going-ons at work today.

Dissed by somebody: 1
Compliments received: 3
Compliments paid: 0
People whose feelings I hurt: 1

All in all, a better than average day, but somewhat marred by the workload—as of this Tuesday I'm officially one of three developers working on a custom software project. I'm to spend 50% of my time on this and the other 50% on getting our core product out the door in a stable form. Unfortunately, I'm doing neither, mired as I am in service issues, documentation reviews, and high priority patches.

I'll have to pay some compliments tomorrow. Karma, you know.

***

Shaula recently passed both her swimming and skating classes. She's at level 8/10 and 6/8, respectively. Little Matthew was and still is in preschool skating level 3. Oh well, he won't be the youngest in his class this time round.

***

Here is an "unposed*" existing-light picture of some [Sugar Maple?] leaves at the local park. It's actually very difficult to make such a shot with an SLR without also capturing one's feet or tripod legs in the frame.

One solution is to use a tripod with a reversible centre column or an extension boom, but this requires lengthy setup and tear-down times, and the camera's viewfinder is likely going to end up at an awkward position.

But with my trusty little Canon A80, it was simply a matter of holding the camera out at arm's length and pointing the camera perpendicular to the ground, and then swinging the LCD panel out and then rotating it 90° to face me. The extended LCD panel also afforded very steady hands. I italicized perpendicular above to emphasize the shallow depth of field resulting from the low light level and necessarily wide open lens. The leaves had to be square-on to the camera sensor for everything to be in focus.

*I still feel guilty about my previous completely artificial—each leaf was placed by hand—photo, surely an affront to Nature. I have redeemed myself.

VanDusen Botanical Garden

2006-10-22T20:19:00.000-07:00

As promised, here are the VanDusen Garden shots that pass my muster. Enjoy!

[Click on each image for a blowup.]

The obligatory flower shot. Handheld, autoflash. Unknown species.

Indian Bean Tree (Catalpa bignonioides) in front of a Red Maple.

Leaves of the Red Maple, Indian Bean, and (rimming the bottom) the Southern Magnolia, trees.

Giant Rhubarb, with Japanese Maples in the background.

Limb of a Goldenrain Tree.

VanDusen Botanical Garden: Outtakes

2006-10-22T19:54:00.000-07:00

Here are some VanDusen Garden photos from last Saturday. While the family was at the mall, I spent the glorious afternoon wandering the Garden, map in hand, camera by my side. The gent at the entrance had marked on the map the areas displaying fall colours. So it was off to the gingkos and maples and the Autumn Colour Arboretum in the northern and eastern reaches.

These are outtakes, meaning that compositionally, they leave something to be desired. My hope is that despite their shortcomings, these pictures are yet able to convey the thrill I get each fall—at least when the sun's out.

Click on each image for a larger version.

Unknown plant with Red Maple in the background.

Indian Bean Tree

Unknown tree. It really is time for a DSLR. I'm spending far too much time trying to outsmart my Canon A80. This was taken in manual mode with flash, and, for the first time ever, at ISO 200.

Trunk's eye-view of a Japanese Maple.

More Japanese Maples in various states of undress.

Trillium. There are no spiders this late in the year, so I was fearless ducking under its canopy.

Gingko biloba, food of dinosaurs, yet to shed its leaves.

Upcoming are some fall colour photos I am happy with. Stay tuned...

Wulff-Dieter Heintz Is Dead

2006-10-19T22:13:00.000-07:00

Life is good. I do not have MS, AIDS, sit in a wheelchair, or work in retail selling things I don't care about.

It's 7:15AM on a Friday, June 23rd. Betty's on her way to work, Shaula's at my parents waiting to be taken to school, and I've dropped Matthew off at Betty's parents and picked up a parcel containing Sissy Haas's just-released Double Stars For Small Telescopes.

I sit on a green leather couch, a tall latté to my right, the National Post on my lap, and there's good 50s jazz in the air (the music is always good at Starbucks).

I read that the chief economist at National Bank and other banks expect the Canadian dollar to be at par with the greenback by the end of 2007. I become engrossed by an article by embedded journalist Michael Fumento about the "band of brothers" stationed at Camp Corregidor in Iraq.

I also learn of the death of astronomer Wulff-Dieter Heintz from lung cancer, at age 76:

In 1978, Heintz published a book, Double Stars, that became a "standard in the field, covering the subject in its entire length and breadth..."

At 8:15 I drive over to the Burnaby Public Library, Metrotown, and sit on a wooden bench under a tree, facing the main garden. The light of the northerly summer solstice sun gives rise to an abnormally blue sky and casts long shadows on the green lawn. The doors open at 9:00. I spend the next few hours seated by the magazine reading area's thirty-foot tall wall of glass skimming the Vancouver Sun, and some back issues of Hi-Fi News, the whole room suffused with a soft southern light. I open the parcel and have a glance at the Sissy Haas book.

I leave the library with a hardcover copy of Generation Kill, $2 from the library's discard/sale shelf. It's a first hand account from American combatants of the war in Iraq .

Double Stars, and Double Stars; Iraq and Iraq. The connectedness of things, the quality of light, the time of year. All this and more, normally squelched by that horror known as work. One day off and I learn of poor Wulff-Dieter's death, read a first edition, and lunch at an authentic Middle Eastern restaurant. While I might not be in retail, or mix pretzel dough or fix bowling-pin machines for a living, the issue of work as the destroyer of dreams remains.

***

My ideal day of solitude:

Summer Vacation 2006: Wrap Up

2006-10-18T18:02:00.000-07:00

At long last, the final installment about our summer vacation.

This is a 180° mosaic of Elephant Rock, to the left, and Seal Rock to the right. They're located between Lincoln City and Florence.

I'm on a jetty within the Oregon Dunes, just south of Florence.

A short clip of our scenic ride aboard the Sand Dunes Frontier bus/buggy. We were repeat customers, having taken the same ride seven years ago. The tour lasted 45 minutes. The driver was very informative—the sands actually originate from an ancient inland sea located in present day Montana, were transported to the ocean as river silt, and are being brought back to land by wave action.

Summer's Gone

2006-10-10T22:53:00.000-07:00

Summer's gone come chill October days
We will stroll through russet trees
Through the fallen leaves of oak and sycamore
That carpet earth through harsh December freeze.

- from October To May, by Dave Cousins

The weather here in Vancouver this September and so far for October has been very pleasant—the skies are blue, the nights clear but cool, the days warm, and it's been drier than normal.

Yesterday was no exception. I went out to the local park late in the morning, Monday being Canadian Thanksgiving, about an hour ahead of Betty, Shaula and Matthew. I wanted to take in the sun and to photograph the leaf fall before the Vancouver rains come, and everything gets soggy and turns brown.

For me, the challenge and joy of photography is finding beauty in the commonplace, be it a dilapidated building, a window display, an old door. While the two images below are of intrinsically "beautiful" subjects, foliage, the context in which they were taken borders on the unsightly.

[Click on each image for a larger version.]

The following is a shot of one of two maples at the southeast corner of the park. The roar of traffic on Kingsway is just ten feet away, across a wire fence. On the opposite side of the street is a used-car dealer, a Fountain Tire shop, and a burger joint. A thin, strung out woman in a hooded jacket, hood up, face hidden, walks past me and exits the park. A guy and his girlfriend on the sidewalk are talking to strangers in a car that has just pulled up to the curb. Both women look like the prostitutes who frequent the area.

In hindsight, I'm lucky I didn't get jabbed by a used hypodermic needle while positioning the leaves for the picture below. And boy, do I feel stupid now for letting the kids form a huge pile of leaves to jump on.

If, for a moment I have fooled you into a forest, my job as a photographer is done.

Summer Vacation 2006: Superlatives, Highlights, and Digressions

2006-10-07T19:58:00.000-07:00

Okay, this should be the penultimate entry detailing the family trip down to Oregon. Goes to show just how busy I've been.

Here are some superlatives and firsts:
1) The odometer rolled over to 66,666km on I-5, not far from Albany, Oregon.
2) We caught sight of the world's largest wooden building, the Tillamook Air Museum's blimp hangar.
3) We crossed the shortest river in the world, the D River, in Lincoln City.
4) I got a chance to use the car's cruise control feature—neato!—cruising, accelerating, and slowing down at the flick of a stick.
5) We ate at a McDonald's in Kelso, Washington, that offered super-sized kids' meals, the Mega Kid Meal. And people wonder why kids are so big these days...

To the girl who took my order of Chicken McNuggets and then had the gall to get peeved when I went back to the counter to ask for the accompanying dipping sauce: May the highlight of the rough life ahead of you be the night you scored with the backup quarterback, he in a drunken stupor.

6) Some of the restaurants down there include on the meal bill a suggested tip, e.g., 18% Gratuity --- $12.65.

Some highlights:
1) Barnes & Noble, Bellevue. Like Borders, quite a bit better than Canada's Chapters.
2) Borders, downtown Seattle. Excellent selection of CDs. The chain is a strong supporter of Jazz music.
3) The Elliott Bay Book Company. Now here's one independent bookseller with character—rickety wooden floors, brick walls, cedar shelves; and up to the challenge of the big chain stores—lots of quality inventory and book signings galore. I picked up the Taschen art book Men's Adventure Magazines and the E. L. Doctorow novel City Of God pictured below.

I didn't make it to Powell's in Portland. Here's a review of four "quirky" bookstores, including Elliott Bay. BTW, I have been to The Strand in Manhattan, and to the current Shakespeare & Company in Paris, which, to be honest, served only to underscore my ignorance of literature.

From the Too-Much-Information department:
Elliott Bay's rather rustic restrooms are in the basement, adjacent to the Café. At the cleanup stage of a number two, the hinge of the toilet seat I was sitting on failed and I nearly slid off sideways. So gents, you have been forewarned: check the seat first lest it happen to you.

An observation:
A whole different gene pool. Somebody from the studio audience of a Seattle television talk show, years ago, quipped that "Bellevue was as white as snow." I'd have to say that that's still true today. It was comforting to be back home in Vancouver among (and eye-to-eye with) the blacktops.

Oh The Ignominy!

2006-10-04T22:00:00.000-07:00

I finally did it. In August I threw out all of my photographic film. I consigned the little canisters of Ilfords, Fujichromes, and yes, even venerable Kodachrome to the kitchen trash can. A high three-digit dollar investment down the tubes.

Part of the reason I gave the rolls the heave-ho was because I basically stopped taking "artistic" pictures from 1993 onward, so about half of the rolls had expiry dates from that period and have been lying fallow in the freezer since. In the interim, I've been cranking out the odd family portrait and special occasion shot using colour print film in Betty's point-and-shoot, and most recently, using my 4 megapixel Canon.

In this age of CCDs, cheap memory and printers, I really saw no point in exposing and developing possibly spoiled and colour-shifted film and then having to pay for the prints or slides. I even tried to give some of it away, but to no avail.

Adieu, little green and yellow boxes. The shutter has closed one last time. You will never again see the light of day, in my camera or anybody else's. I've captured your downfall in the above digital shot. Oh, the shame.

***

Note: Betty and I celebrated our anniversary last Saturday. I had a New York strip loin, and she a filet mignon. We married in 1993.

***

Kodachrome
They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world's a sunny day, oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away

-Kodachrome by Paul Simon

***

The nature of conversation is that it's shapeless. If we knew exactly what was going to be said, we would be bored and wouldn't have the conversation.

-Paul Simon

The Green Hornet

2006-10-03T20:20:00.000-07:00

I made it out to The Chan Centre two Fridays ago to catch the Vancouver Chamber Choir's season opener, Baroquefest, a celebration of the music of Handel and Bach. This time I sat in the orchestra section to check out the acoustics [good, as it turned out]. The audience reminded me of my astronomy club, that is to say, consisting predominantly of old folk. I was a relatively young buck.

I am a novice when it comes to the classics. I'm making up for lost time by putting out feelers—listening to XM Pops, XM Classics and Vox!, and attending live performances—to see what strikes my fancy. Since I've always been partial to Bach and Handel, Baroquefest seemed a sure bet. Well, quite frankly, I'm glad my unaffected take on the concert corroborates with Alexander Varty's negative comments from a generally favourable review in the September 28th issue of The Georgia Strait: "It added to very little...", "...nowhere in this concert was the audience challenged or enlightened..." Maybe I should give myself more credit for picking up on this.

Watching the harpsichordist soloing on the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 was eye-opening. She tore through what sounded like a million effete little notes, with the help of a fellow musician whose sole role was to flip the numerous pages of sheet music for her. Maybe it's because the instrument doesn't have the power and sustain of a piano, so that the only way to keep a listener's interest is to play lots very quickly.

What did impress me was the small stand of trees and plants just outside the lobby. It was a clear night so I exited through the main doors to check out the campus before heading back to the parking garage. What struck me was the quality and direction of the lighting playing on the ferns and cedars. It would be hard to capture on film. The first thing that came to mind was the cover of an old Gold Key Green Hornet comic handed down to my oldest brother from our uncle, which, thanks to the Internet, you see right here (issue #3). That's Bruce Lee as the Hornet's sidekick, Kato. I spent countless hours as a kid looking at that cover. Just one of those magical things that sticks with you.

And yeah, being under the sheets of bottom-lit, scented pine needles wasn't at all shabby. I just love it out there at UBC.

Baroque You, Man!

Some Books, and Flags (In progress)

2006-10-01T20:56:00.000-07:00

In progress...

Summer Vacation 2006: A Beautiful View (Part 3)

2006-09-26T07:38:00.000-07:00

Here are the views from our hotel rooms.

In Portland I had intended to take a picture of the outdoor swimming pool, which shared the same view of Interstate 205 with our room. However, two teenage girls were in the pool the first evening and I didn't want to risk spending the night on a hard mattress in a jail cell. I just plain forgot to follow up the next morning. But a traffic cam view should suffice.

Spectacular! I'm mildly dishevelled, having just completed a 25 minute run along the beach.

Florence, Oregon.

The Bellevue view.

***

Betty walked into the bedroom yesterday, saw that I had changed into my tee-shirt and shorts for our workout, and proceeded to greet me with a "Hello, Bozo the Clown."

The kids caught wind of the above exchange and became curious about Bozo—who he was, what he looked like. Perhaps I'm the odd man out here, but because I didn't have a single graven image of Bozo in my extensive collection of books (which, BTW, includes an obscure art book whose cover is probably the only full-frontal nudity image at Amazon.com), I was momentarily pedagogically stumped. Well, wikipedia came to the rescue with this entry. In a previous age, this sort of situation would've required a trip to the library or pooh-poohed with insubstantive information. Ain't the internet great, wavy orange sideburns and all?

Summer Vacation 2006: A Beautiful View (Part 2)

2006-09-22T15:39:00.000-07:00

A "beautiful view" in French is une belle vue. Here are some shots of downtown Bellevue, WA.

Bellevue is one of the rare cases when "East" or "Eastside" means a good neighbourhood. Seattle looms from the west.

Lincoln Square. I'm not entirely clear if what's being erected is the tower to the left depicted here.

A good-looking anonymous tower. In my younger days, I would've walked up to it to investigate. But thrills are few and far between these days.

The brand-new Westin. A co-worker had a good stay there.

The two towers of the Hyatt Bellevue.

Looking west to Seattle. The shopping mall in the left foreground is Bellevue Square.

Summer Vacation 2006: A Beautiful View (Part 1)

2006-09-21T16:33:00.000-07:00

This storefront is typical of those found in "downtown" Seaside, touristy, but the real deal.

Looking at the highrises in the next two shots, you'd think that Seaside was a large city. Actual resident population: 5,900.

Explorers Lewis and Clark ended their journey west at Seaside. Below is a monument marking the "End Of The Trail".

Two not-so-exciting shots of the beach at Cannon Beach. I'm in dire need of a new digital camera, possibly an SLR, that has a decent zoom ratio. The big rock below, known as Haystack Rock, is purportedly the fourth largest monolith in the world, third being the zit currently gracing my upper left thigh.

Unlike Seaside, Cannon Beach presents a very clean and pretty face. The main drag is lined by little shops with flower pots. Below is a small path wending away from the street.

US 101 as it is through the heart of Lincoln City.

I still chuckle each time I look at this shot.

The beach near our hotel in Lincoln City.

Sister-in-law relaxing on the morning of our departure to Florence.

US 101. Fatal if you're crazy—note the cars hugging the hillside.

Double Eeeek!

2006-09-19T07:48:00.000-07:00

Before leaving on our eight-day vacation to the States, I declared to Betty that we were going to finally catch the rodent or rodents responsible for the dry little pellets we've been finding on our linoleum and carpet, in the pantry, and on the shoe rack, by means of the half-dozen or so glue traps I had strategically baited and set out on our kitchen floor, the rationale being that the cessation of human household activity will embolden the sly little critter to rear its head and then, too late, to plant its feet onto one of the many sticky surfaces. [A 100-word sentence!]

Herewith, the culprit and the disgusting collateral damage (in front of the forelegs). Click on the image for a blowup if you're not squeamish.

It took Betty quite a while to calm down—she discovered the mouse first—especially after it moved. I'm still freaked out by the crumpled brown exoskeleton. Get rid of all the spiders, I say, we'll worry about the ecosystem later.

Heard, Seen and Realized

2006-09-14T21:26:00.000-07:00

Heard (at Pike Place Market):
Lady 1: I'm on a "Lose 30 Pounds" diet.
Lady 2: How's it coming along?
Lady 1: Well, so far, I've lost 15 ... [pause] ... days.

Seen (on a tee-shirt of somebody at the Richmond Night Market):
I'm Tri-Sexual—I'll Try Anything

Seen (across the Knight Street Bridge):
Two young males in a black soft-top Ford Mustang doing the speed limit.

Realized:
I don't like abalone. Tastes like how I imagine raw land-animal organs to taste.

Realized:
Must be a pain being a resident of Vancouver, Washington. Outside of the Portland, Oregon area, the city must be qualified as being Vancouver, Washington. And outside of the Pacific Northwest, Washington must be qualified as being the state.

Realized:
More often than not, I don't like myself.

André And Ray

2006-09-13T07:17:00.000-07:00

If a white lie is an unimportant lie told out of politeness or tact, then the tactic I use to discipline Matthew ought to be called a "grey" lie. Grey lies abound:

If you don't finish your bowl, you'll marry an ugly ...
You'll go blind if you...
You better not pout, you better not cry ... because Santa Claus [himself one great big grey-bearded lie] is coming to town ...

My Santa happens to be policeman Ray Brown, a name that came to me probably because I was listening to a Diana Krall CD when the idea struck—he was her mentor.

Each time Matthew acts up, it's me "on the phone" with policeman Ray Brown, or that Ray Brown is coming by the house to check up on things.

Yesterday I made Ray Brown incarnate while at the recreation centre. I noticed that a co-worker—let's call him André, as in André the Giant, owing to his stature and build— was there poolside with his family. I told him about the lie and asked him if I he could play the role of Ray Brown. He was more than happy to. I went to tell Matthew, who was sitting with Betty in the centre's glassed-off pool viewing area, that I was with Ray Brown and that I was going to point Ray out to him. I returned to the pool deck and stood beside André and waited till Matthew looked our way. I saw him glance over at us and then quickly turn his back to us and then tuck his head under Betty's neck.

Better yet, André the Giant got into the swing of things on his own accord and later walked over to the three of us and introduced himself to Matthew and said with a completely serious face, "Your dad tells me you've been a good boy, right?"

Hey, I've got to get as much mileage out of this while Matthew's still too young to know any better. But he's already catching on; he asked Betty about Ray's civilian clothes, and noted that Ray didn't appear to be carrying a gun. As a final note, Matthew commented that "Ray wasn't that scary." [The co-worker is really a gentle giant.]

Summer Vacation 2006: The Food (Part 3)

2006-09-07T19:39:00.000-07:00

Day 7, @ Starbucks, Seattle, WA
Nanaimo bars in Nanaimo: check. Buffalo Wings in Buffalo: been there, done that, bought the tee shirt. Starbucks coffee in Seattle: I can now proudly strike that off my petty life list as well.

I ordered my signature beverage from the Starbucks located on Alaskan Way near the foot of Columbia Street, a tall decaff, nonfat, no-foam latte. Maybe it's all in my head, but I thought the latte tasted better than the equivalent drink back home. Shaula got a Vanilla Bean Frappucino.

The area had the loudest noise level anywhere I've been. Most of it came from the traffic on the elevated double-decked viaduct you see in the background which runs parallel to Alaskan Way.

Day 7, @ P.F. Chang's China Bistro, Bellevue, WA
I wouldn't call it authentic by any measure, but, like The Cheesecake Factory, a very busy place with long lineups. The shrimp and General Chao Chicken dishes (in the foreground) were my faves. A foodie co-worker informed me, belatedly, that P.F. was famous for its lettuce wraps. Damn!

Day 8, @ Our Hotel, Bellevue, WA
Just add oatmeal to the mix, and you have a perfectly healthful meal! This was breakfast on the morning of our departure. All of our hotel stays included a decent continental breakfast. Lox You, man.

- Finis -

Summer Vacation 2006: The Food (Part 2)

2006-09-06T20:42:00.000-07:00

Day 5, @ The Cheesecake Factory, Bellevue, WA
There are several wildly popular restaurants in the heart of Bellevue. One of them is The Cheesecake Factory. It's much more than desserts, offering over 200 menu items, bottomless drinks, and excellent limitless bread (especially the pumpernickel). An appetizer is a whole meal unto itself and an entreé can feed two adults. The cheesecake slices aren't behemoths, but most people won't have room for any and opt for a takeout dessert. The photos here are deceiving—the portions are huge—once you realize that the dinner plates are the size of serving plates. Needless to say there were leftovers. We passed on the dessert.

Heeding advice from a well-travelled co-worker, I shared a "Steak Diane" with Betty. Mmyah!

The kids shared a "Crispy Chicken Costoletta".

Day 6, @ Ruth's Chris??, Bellevue, WA
One of my goals is to dine at a Ruth's Chris. As you can see from the picture, I was right there in front of one; I even went inside the previous day (Day 5) to entertain making a reservation. Very high-end décor, but casual attire was welcome.

So this is what we ended up eating on Day 6:

Chicken and Spinach pizza, at Pagliacci, the restaurant next door to Ruth's Chris Steak House! I just couldn't part with the big bucks, plus the menu wasn't kid-friendly. Maybe in my next life (and with my luck, I'd probably come back as a single-diet panda bear).

Day 6, @ The Cheesecake Factory, Bellevue, WA
To make up for the letdown, we splurged on some Kahlua Cocoa Coffee Cheesecake, to go. We took it back to the hotel to eat. Admittedly very good, but I can give it a run for its money with my creations.

To Be Continued...

Summer Vacation 2006: The Food (Part 1)

2006-09-05T20:30:00.000-07:00

This is the first in a series of entries about our summer vacation to the Oregon Coast and Bellevue, Washington.
The itinerary we followed, by day, was:

Leave Vancouver, shop at the Seattle Premium Outlets, stay overnight in Clackamas, a suburb of Portland, Oregon
Visit the towns of Seaside, Cannon Beach, and Lincoln City, Oregon, stay overnight in Lincoln City
Shop at the factory outlets in Lincoln City, beachcomb, relax, stay another night in Lincoln City
The Oregon Dunes, stay overnight in Florence, Oregon
Drive to Bellevue, Washington
Shop in Bellevue, visit the Boeing Plant at Everett
Visit Seattle's Pike Place and Pioneer Square, shop some more in Bellevue
Leave Bellevue, shop at the Seattle Premium Outlets once again, drive home

With the preliminaries out of the way, this blog entry details my foray into gluttony. Much like those ladies who lucked upon a rented houseboat of partying rugby players celebrating the end of their tournament over a long weekend off the shores of Shuswap Lake, every rule in the book was broken. Instead of six smaller meals low in simple carbohydrates and saturated fats, I gorged three times a day on starchy and deep-fried food and topped dinner off with dessert.

Day 2, @ Sam's Seaside Café, Seaside, OR
I had the tuna sandwich lunch platter with tomato soup. Good ol' American fare.

Matthew couldn't finish his burger platter, so I lent a helping mouth.

Day 2, @ Kyllo's, Lincoln City, OR
We went to a funky, dimly-lit restaurant with an ocean view. They had kidney-shaped wooden tables for larger parties (my family and my brother's family made for eight). The restaurant would fare well in Vancouver, let alone a small town like Lincoln City (population 7,437). And the building is on stilts!

I ordered the Seafood Fry, thinking pan-fried, but no such luck. Gulf Shrimp, oysters, scallop, halibut, cod, squid, all deep-fried. This shot is out of focus, a small bout of personal incompetence.

Day 3, @ Momiji's, Tanger Outlet Store, Lincoln City, OR
It's one of those "authentic" Japanese places that also serve Chinese. For lunch, we ordered some maki rolls and the General Chao/Tao (whatever they call it) chicken. Darn tasty until the mishap: somehow, a whole dried chili pepper ended up in one of the chicken pieces. It took, and I swear, 15 minutes for Betty to regain her composure. She even resorted to sticking her tongue into the ice cubes in our water. And just prior to this, Matthew put a whole spoonful of wasabi in his mouth thinking it was avocado.

Day 3, @ Kyllo's, Lincoln City, OR
The Italian place recommended by the hotel attendant was closed, so we ended up at Kyllo's again. This time, I ordered the Salmon.

To Be Continued...

On Hiatus Till Labour Day

2006-08-25T19:49:00.000-07:00

Fun fun fun.

The Letter 'F' - Part 2

2006-08-23T19:42:00.000-07:00

Here is the second in a series of things beginning with the letter 'F'. Nothing I hold dear, nothing profound, simply two things that were on my mind.

2. Feenie's
We finally made it to one of Rob Feenie's restaurants. It was mid-afternoon on a sunny BC Day weekend, so there was no lineup—if anything, the place was overstaffed. We were seated immediately. We ordered three hamburger platters at $14 a crack, including fries. The kids split an order.

Feenie's (not to be confused with Rob Feenie's upscale Lumière next door) lays claim to the city's best hamburger. We were not disappointed, despite the surprisingly slow service given the high staff:diner ratio. It was the best burger (yep, I ate beef) we've ever had, but I'll have to visit a White Spot again to re-evaluate their Legendary Platter to establish which burger has the bigger bang-for-the-buck.

The fact remains that ground beef can only be so good, thus there's no need to hurry over to Feenie's. Note: if you're a hardcore carnivore it probably won't bother you to find out where a lot of ground beef comes from. The picture is of a partially-eaten Feenie Burger in its "doggy" container.

3. Flowers (For A Dad)
It wasn't until 5:00PM that the first flowers began to arrive at the accident scene. The victim's two teenage sons dropped off the bunch shown here. They were bawling inconsolably.

Car accidents bother me, then, now, probably always. This fear goes as far back as to when I was three and refused for weeks to get into the family car after hearing about a fatality. So my mother tells me.

Keep Me Away From The Bookstore

2006-08-21T20:58:00.000-07:00

Okay, I admit it. I leave a big footprint. Sure I recycle, and I'm fully aware of the evils of crass consumerism, but at the close of any weekend, I find myself saddled with two or three more plastic bags and the half-dozen new books or magazines they once contained. I'm of the "having" persuasion rather than bent on simply "being", or more profoundly, on not "being" at all. I'd probably make even a Zen master turn violent. A profane sonavabitch I am.

For instance, I went to the Richmond Chapters this Sunday intent on picking up the Viking hardcover edition of Proust's In The Shadow Of Young Girls In Flower (only $9.99!), before it's out-of-print and hard to find. Well, my mission was accomplished, but augmented by no fewer than 19 other titles— of which twelve were expressly for me. I guess that makes me an obscene size 20 in the Adbuster scheme of things, right up there with Nike and Starbucks.
One of these impulse buys is Sara Nelson's wonderful So Many Books, So Little Time, which, 50 pages in, I'll have to provisionally award **** out of *****. As an aside, has anybody noticed how the Siskel & Ebert Thumbs Up system has of late been running out of thumbs and resorting to dubious ratings like "Two Very Big Thumbs Up", "Two Thumbs Way Up", and "Two Very Enthusiastic Thumbs Up"? WTF?

Any book lover will relate to Nelson's observations:

I choose them [books] the way I choose my friends: because somebody nice introduced us, because I liked their looks, because the best of them turn out to be smart and funny and both surprising and inevitable at the same time.

and

In reading, as in life, even if you know what you're doing, you really kind of don't... If you want to make the book god laugh, show him your reading list.

and completely unrelated to bibliophilia, but a germane answer to a question a co-worker and I have been wrestling with

You have to talk loud to be heard, and if you can develop a sense of humor and insert it into much of what you say, you'll be heard even better.

That's not what I wanted to hear.

I like the book's cover—the balance-defying impossibility brings out the child in me: How would someone get into or leave the centre of such a fortress? What would it take to make it collapse? And look at the colours!

One book I didn't buy (because the store copy's fold-outs were dog-eared) but will order on-line is Mitsuhiro Kurokawa's gorgeously drawn and verdant Dinosaur Valley.

I did buy a book on Zen, which I now keep on my desk at work, just to advantageously tip my karma.

I Had A Dream

2006-08-16T06:58:00.000-07:00

Dreams are mysterious.

But the source of Monday night's (or was it Tuesday morning's—who knows?) dream was unequivocal. I dreamt the following:

-Den and I are talking.
-A black-topped 747 flies by, low to the city.
-It shudders.
-An instant later, its left wing falls off.
-The plane pitches toward the ground and disappears from my view behind some buildings.
-Flames from a distance.
-I make a 911 call on the cell.
-We make our way to the wing. It's pretty much intact. There is luggage everywhere. No people or bodies. I wish I had a cellphone with a video camera.
-We work our way to the resting place of the rest of the 747, a grassy clearing rimmed by trees. I couldn't bear to look any more.

The material for this nightmare was last Friday's Vancouver Sun. I had just read, before turning out the lights, that there are 9.8 million people in Paris and environs, and that this figure was larger than the population of 28 European nations. I also read an article about the commercial impact of the recently foiled UK terrorist threat on aviation (Flying 1000 miles is 65 times safer than driving that same distance. 1500 Americans needlessly died in the one-year period after 9/11 by opting to travel by car than by plane.).

If the above is any indicator, from now on, I'm going to be watching and "reading" only carefully chosen "material" before bedtime

***

Speaking of cellphones, I picked up this new Samsung model last Sunday. A slider model with still and video camera.

It has an MP3 player and uses micro-SD format memory cards.

That meant a trip to the local shop yesterday to pick up a card reader. My word, was it ever a positively embalming experience. The guy who served me looked like some failed 60s British rock star, with a name like Nigel or Martin. He had big teeth, his blond hair was parted to one side, and he was in serious need of vitamin D supplements.

It Was Four Years Ago Today

2006-08-09T21:24:00.000-07:00

Matthew turned four today. We all ate pizza and had for dessert a DQ ice cream birthday cake. Now if only our daughter's birthday party were this simple: family only. Matthew is still too young to have real friends, there are no neighbours with kids his age, and preschool is not in session, so Betty and I have this birthday-party thing under control for the time being.
Matthew is shaping up to be a sensitive, responsible young man, head butts aside. No complaints from me or Betty.

BTW, we've just pulled him out of the coming year's preschool—it's just not feasible to transport him to and fro three days a week. The refund should help pay for our upcoming trip to Oregon.

Head & Shoulders Makes For A Poor Facial Soap

2006-08-02T07:23:00.000-07:00

I thought it was a pretty smart idea at first. I read recently that dandruff shampoos like Head & Shoulders (my staple) containing pyrithione zinc promote hair growth and re-growth because of their cleansing action on the follicles and the accompanying sebaceous glands.

So it wasn't a stretch to apply some of the shampoo onto my face while lathering my hair, and better yet, let the stuff sit for a while for a deep-pore clean.

The first intimation that something was amiss was when my eyes started to burn. The stuff somehow managed to seep under my shut lids, a veritable Drano for my light pipes. Then it was my cheeks, specifically, around the cheekbones. Last was my nose, red and looking like I'd been out in the sun for too long.

This happened last weekend. Even now, you can see still see the scars.

BTW, I used Head & Shoulders for Dry Scalp.

***
When we discover the true lives of other people, the real world beneath the world of appearance, we get as many surprises as on visiting a house of plain exterior which inside is full of hidden treasures, torture-chambers, or skeletons.
—Marcel Proust

It's Not Right To Do This To Other People

2006-08-01T07:30:00.000-07:00

I had to stop on my way to work to take a look at the aftermath of a deadly car chase, curious to see how mangled the innocent victim's van was.

I only caught a glimpse of both vehicles as they were being trucked away. The van, of North American make, had a deep groove in the front, a point of impact at the driver's door, and another midway along the side. The windshield was intact. I couldn't see the other side of the vehicle. The small import that was being pursued by police was crumpled front and back.

The road and a grassy curb area were marked in chalk with double circles and opposing semi-circles. The two traffic light standards on the northwest corner were damaged; one is noticeably askew. Perhaps this was what killed the 50 year-old man.

The two workmen responsible for sweeping up the mess left behind quite a bit of debris: two front or tail light housings, a bottle of Calgon body mist, an expired SFU parking sticker.

While I expected to see a vehicle torn in two, it wasn't so.

While I was deciding on my coffee, a family was grieving—the van could seat eight.

It doesn't take much to die.

[Update: I went for an afternoon walk back to the scene. It's clear now that the victim had been ejected.]

Pet Peeves of The Caribbean

2006-07-30T19:01:00.000-07:00

We went to the 19th annual Caribbean Festival Sunday afternoon. The highlights were the chicken and vegetable Jamaican patties, and watching some people from the Grenadines dance around a maypole. I was disappointed with my lunch, though—jerked chicken and a pineapple soda. In the taste department, Betty's parents' Jamaican neighbour has a far spicier and more flavourful recipe. Logistically, it was no small feat using a plastic knife to carve up the chicken while seated at a park bench; there wasn't enough table seating. Moreover the food stalls didn't have drinking straws so Matthew had a hard go at drinking directly from the can.

I think the rain warning affected the attendance. Betty and I almost got caught in this morning's downpour during our 5K run, and that probably kept some of the people away.

It's fair to say that the number of pictures taken at a festival for inclusion in this blog is proportional to how much fun was had. So this was our first and likely only Caribbean Festival.

Note: we never made it to Saturday's Yaletown Street party. Instead, I spent the afternoon reading How Proust Can Change Your Life (review forthcoming) on a comfy couch just outside the Coast Mountain Sports store at Metrotown Centre while Betty and the two clowns did some—what else?—shopping.

***
Pet Peeves

1) The Legs-Spread-Wide Bus Passenger
I've done my share of riding the bus. Well over ten years of it, in fact. One thing that got my goat are the fellow passengers who sit with their legs spread apart, pressing their thighs against mine and violating my personal space. We aren't talking about big people or people with huge backpacks on the floor beneath them, but regular-sized folks whose lower limbs spill over seat boundaries. Note: on the rare occasions when the fellow passenger was hot, her legs could've been on top of mine for all I care... ;-)

2) The Wide-Stance Urinal User
As most of you ladies know, urinals at most public restrooms are placed pretty close to one another. When it's rush hour in the men's room, this can lead to a short duration version of "The Legs-Spread-Wide Bus Passenger" situation. I can't explain this phenomenon. It's simply not that difficult biomechanically to reposition one's legs, even in midstream, to make room. If the stance is indeed a compensatory reflex, it'd make more sense for them to use the lower children urinals, and then complain very publicly about how "deep and cold" the water was. Nope, my uncomfortable conclusion is that these guys are afraid of me taking a peek and are keeping their distance.

Dinosaur Showdown

2006-07-24T17:45:00.000-07:00

Matthew sure knows his dinosaurs. Not only can he name them, he's also familiar with their diet. Here he's positioned the plant eaters at the top, poised for battle with the meat eaters at the bottom. The ensuing battle was very violent—there were no survivors.

[Photo by Dad, conceived and arranged by Matthew]

St. Moritz On A Hot Day

2006-07-22T22:49:00.000-07:00

We were pretty busy Saturday.

After Shaula's morning swim class, after the return of some borrowed material to the library, after a visit to the bank, and after we dropped Shaula off at her cousins' in Surrey for a weekend sleepover, we headed back into Vancouver.

Our first stop was the St. Moritz Watch Corporation. Its offices are in a converted home nestled in a residential area across from Choklit Park. The watches on display were spread over two boutiquey floors.

I would've probably picked up a half-dozen watches were it not for the pangs of guilt from having already acquired a good number of watches of late. In the end, I bought only three.

The M1 in orange went for $80. In hindsight, an okay deal. Betty got a black version and Shaula one with a pink face and pink strap. The rubber straps, by the way, are infused with vanilla. The one pictured to the right of the M1 cost $29, and the one on the far right $39 (retail $295). Both have Swiss movements.

I almost picked up a Coral Sea, around $100, a fabulous price for a Swiss Made sapphire watch.

The St. Moritz people were very nice and effectively fed Matthew lunch (freezies, chips, drinks).

I took two shots of the skyline from Choklit Park on the way back to our car.

Betty and I were starving so we made the short drive to Vij's Rangoli in South Granville for a light 2:00PM lunch. Because the food is prepared in the same kitchen as the adjacent Vij's, I'm going to strike Vij's off my list of restaurants to visit this summer—close enough.

We ordered and shared the South India Vegetable Curry and the Coconut Curry Chicken dishes (both around $11), and a mango juice. This just cried out for a photo.

Neither of us were blown away by the two entrées, but it was obvious that only fresh ingredients were used, and we both agreed that the serving size was just right. The highlight was the green pesto/masabi-like paste (see picture). It's actually mint mango chutney.

As we were leaving, a co-worker spotted me and introduced me to her boyfriend. Betty and I, just for the hell of it, were heading for the Sakura condominium complex presentation centre two blocks further south along Granville. Needless to say, we made a few stops while en route, first at the women's clothing store, Plum, where I spotted L. F. from one of my previous jobs. Didn't stop to chat. We then spent some time at the TNA store.

The presentation centre was a bust; it was for the time being merely a place for making an appointment for a future private viewing. I did get the floor plans. Two bedroom suites were starting in the low 500s (800 sq. ft.). Disheartening for a buyer.

We left the area to pick up some Velcro® on Fraser Street. We had dinner at Betty's mom's, and spent the rest of the evening indoors at Metrotown Centre hiding from the still 30°+ heat (like a lot of other people were, based on how busy the place was at 8:00PM).

Blasts From The Past Plus Two Words

2006-07-18T20:30:00.000-07:00

Here are some nearly-forgotten and fading terms and things from the not-so-distant past for all you middle-agers out there:

Spaz - as in someone who generally randomly overreacts. Don't write any negative comments here because the owner of this blog is going to be a royal spaz about it.
VD/herpes simplex - replaced by the more generic term STD.
TaB - terrible tasting diet cola similar to Mr. Pibb or RC Cola. Making a comeback, at least in name.
Uncola - sales pitch for 7UP. I drank a can of Diet 7UP yesterday, and the only adjective that came to mind was how un-cola it was; it's indeed much more refreshing than a Coke or a Pepsi.
Loose - as in promiscuous.

Here are two words that bother me. It's obvious that it doesn't take much to make me spaz out.

Flamboyant - much too flamboyant even for itself. Every time I hear or see this word, I can't but help visualize pink floating meat. The oi/oy dipthong doesn't help either.
Dormitory - too American for me and is about as pleasant sounding as crematorium. Residence is what I called my living quarters at university.

Three Degrees Of Separation From Shakira

2006-07-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

This just in! Yesterday and today are my make-up days for when I had to unexpectedly go back to work while on vacation to help with some software issues. So I'm not currently in the office.

But I was in the dentist's office yesterday. His daughter had just come back from the World Cup in Germany. She was there to choreograph and coach Shakira for her Berlin concert.

Just think: Me->Dentist->Daughter->Shakira. Can life turn any other surprises my way? I'll never brush my teeth again!

[I think most people will find this a welcome read from yesterday's entry.]

Where I Once Worked (Naughty, So Don't Read If You're A Prude)

2006-07-11T21:53:00.000-07:00

I was once an inside salesperson at the western office of the Canadian wing of a then Fortune 500 company. Inside sales in this case meant taking phone orders and calling on customers, but mainly taking orders.

It was certainly an interesting experience working there after having spent so many years as a student and working out at UBC. The sales people were a raw, self-destructive bunch, preoccupied with sex, fast cars, parties, and sex. Most were a $5 cab ride from the nearest bridge. And what's so great about all those cars and parties anyways?

A Jewish co-worker there once explained to me what a Jewish Dilemma was. Free pork, he roared in laughter. He'd incessantly brag about his six-figure income generated by his rental property—"Paint the walls, that'll sucker the buyer everytime," he'd say. The schmuck once beamed that his dad would never hire anyone with a formal education. His son was apparently very "gifted"; the rabbi performing the circumcision ceremony couldn't get over the enormity of the baby's piece. Just before I left the job to go back to school again, he was going on and on whining about his wife. How stupid she was. How the only three reasons he didn't divorce her were the kid and her huge breasts.

I sat beside P., who drummed up a lot of business from his accounts, especially those with female employees placing the orders. I want to #$!? you right now, I remember him saying on the phone to one of his regular customers. He was sleeping with his team lead, E. at this time, from whom I learnt that there were two types of girls when it came to fellatio: swallows and budgies. One of E.'s friends sent a man to the hospital while vacationing in Spain when the convertible they were in swerved suddenly. [INSERT MENTAL IMAGE]

Then there was the reception goddess, X. She was beautiful, Paulina Porizkova beautiful. If only half of the following second-hand morsels about her are true, I think I will have left you with an impression. X, who slept with the VP. X who was dating a skinhead (his Bronco was five feet off the ground). X, who I've been told, was once on Oprah talking about her father who was in prison for murdering someone over a thirteen year old girl. X, whose mother was in the nut house. X who admits having done just about everything sexually, except maybe with babies. X who slept with a salesperson at a conference, and then told him to bugger off after he'd quit his job in Toronto and travelled across the country to be with her, because he crossed his legs like a woman.

Need I go on? [Sure, you say. Note: if you consider yourself to be conservative and prudish and have gotten this far, then you are in denial.]

There was S.S., who barked out one day that work sucks,everything sucks, everything except my wife.

L. who gushed with pride over her boyfriend's weekend win in Surrey for "Best 4X4", and said that she's witnessed a few orgies there.

Then there was S.A., a very intense, over-caffeinated, can't sit still, knee-bobbing, fifteen-smoke-breaks-a-day, individual who ended up in RCMP custody, all because he had just missed Hot Wing Hour at the local pub, and he wanted wings, needed wings.

Now, why the heck did I make this entry. For a laugh or two, and for the record book. BTW, my time there was truly a low point in my life—more because of the unfulfilling monotonous duties than the people.

Cheers!

Too Much Information

2006-07-09T18:06:00.000-07:00

I spent most of last week partially deaf because of excess wax in my left ear canal. This has happened before. I decided to irrigate the ear myself Friday after work with a small rubber syringe, a hit-and-miss proposition in light of the professional equipment at the G.P.'s office. Stupidly, I flushed with cold water and got dizzy and almost threw up and had to lie down on my bed to make the nausea go away.

The good news is that I met with success. Now, I'm not the kind of guy who gratuitously discloses all the gory details about this sort of thing—how the wax looked like a small makeup removal cotton pad dirtied by facial grease and bellybutton lint, or on closer inspection, like a moldy and soggy puff of cornflake—no, I wouldn't do that anymore than I would show up at work with free cheesecake or raving about such-and-such a book. No sirree, I'd spare you the specifics.

***

Well, I finally ate some beef. I've been planning this ever since I've started lifting weights, where protein is everything. I ate one quarter of an "Open-Wide" burger at Red Robin and shared a Macho Nacho plate with the family. The burger was free and we got a three dollar discount on the nachos; Betty had "birthday" coupons. Incidentally, the bar TV had the World Cup telecast on, so I saw Italy win. Not sure if beef will become part of my regular diet.

***

Seen scrawled on a styrofoam cup on the counter near the cash register of Opa! Greek restaurant at the Metropolis Food Court: What Is "Pita" Spelled Backwards?

***

Seen on a tee shirt, among others themed with slogans about partying and inebriation, at the Richmond Night Market: Duck My Sick.

***

Seen on an American Eagle tee shirt: An Awkward Morning Beats A Boring Night.

What I did July 2, 2006

2006-07-03T00:12:00.000-07:00

We went to Steveston at 2:00PM. Since this was the day after Canada Day, finding a good parking spot was not a problem. Betty and the kids ordered fish and chips and a clam chowder from the Shady Island take-out counter. We later had some ice cream (well, I had yogurt).

We next made our way to the airport. After a false start, we found a great plane watching location. There were a half-dozen other vehicles parked there for the same reason. Some people even had lawn chairs out.

Shaula and Matthew sat on the hood to cheer on the big planes.

I ended the day at the Jazz Festival finale event, Neko Case, the queen of retro-pop alternative country folk. She sounds as good live as her recorded material. Her soaring voice made my spine shiver not once, but twice. While re-tuning her guitar (one of the strings had broken) in front of the near fullhouse audience, between songs, she remarked that she felt as if she were on stage in her underwear. "That would be gross," she said, "it would be like 'The Cottage Cheese Report'." She looked mighty slim to me.

Seattle Premium Outlets 2

2006-07-02T09:45:00.000-07:00

We went down to the factory outlets last Saturday, June 24th. Saw none other than Andrea in the Skechers store. The daytrip was marred somewhat by having to provide long distance support by personal cell phone for a customer beta release go-live. I'll have to look closely at the phone bill to figure out my reimbursement.

I had earmarked some money for a good cause (charity), but good people, I've blown it all on books and shoes! (Well, mostly shoes, as the nine books below, six of which are hardcovers, came out to be only US$44.)

Both softcovers.

The Rilke is a hardcover.

The Goldberg is a softcover. The Gribbin is a hardcover and comes with an A&E Biography episode on Einstein.

Both hardcovers. Stargazing—yum!

Hardcover and looks very promising.

BTW, on return, the customs officer let us through without having to dish out any taxes and duty. The shoes at the outlets were cheap compared to up here. Skechers that go for CDN$100 go for US$45, and there was more selection down south.

Media Overload

2006-06-29T22:32:00.000-07:00

I went to see guitarist Mike Stern and his band play at The Centre last Tuesday. Imagine the jazz equivalent of an all-out frenetic heavy rock band, and that was how the show went, complete with Keith Moonesque drum solos and Clarence Clemonsesque sax playing. Throw in also adjectives like funky, lyrical, and melodic. I'm now a fan.

The opening act was Vancouver's Gordon Grdina. I've never heard of him till the concert, but now that I have, I'm convinced that the man really needs to buy a vowel. Like Stern, Grdina can sound like Pat Metheny. Accompanying him was superstar bassist Gary Peacock. Because Peacock played the bass (not the electric bass guitar) seated on a stool, fully one-third of the instrument's neck was behind his head, so it was entertaining to see Peacock's fingers flying above and behind his left ear.

Two observations from this and Monday's concerts:
1) Jazz music keeps its practitioners young—70 year-old Peacock and 60 year-old Hutcherson are trim and carry themselves like men two decades their junior.
2) The most intimate of jazz instruments is the bass, IMHO.

***

I bought and watched American Splendor. Very good, though not excellent. If one were curious about what kind of films appeal to me, here's a good example (how can one go wrong with a movie exuding jazz music and books?).

***

Took the kids to see Cars. Of the last five animations, by far the best. I was floored by the graphics—incredible overhead racetrack camera views, and mind-blowing freeway/highway and terrain camera angles, lighting and rendering. The storyline was good too. Shaula (9) and Matthew (3) want to see it again. Me too.

***

Interesting that I was at the library last Monday trying to track down a Rainer Maria Rilke work when, lo and behold, the Gordon Grdina CD booklet has this Rilke quotation

...No one can advise or help you—no one. There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself... Confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: Must I write?
-from Letters To A Young Poet

Compliment Paid at Jazz Concert

2006-06-27T07:53:00.000-07:00

I went to see the Bobby Hutcherson Quartet play at The Centre Monday night. He's on a Grant Green CD I recently bought. I'm sure if I look carefully enough, I'd find Bobby sidelining elsewhere in my music collection.

Hutcherson is one of the premier jazz vibraphonists.

***

I caught the SkyTrain down to Stadium Station and stopped by the main branch of the Vancouver Public Library to grab a smoothie at the atrium shops. I browsed the bulletin boards and noticed that the VPL has a number of interesting reading/book clubs. Unfortunately, they meet downtown in the evenings throughout the year. It sometimes pays to have a condo in the city core. As there was still time to kill, I decided to wander inside the library.

I spent time querying the catalogue system for Rainer Maria Rilke's Letters To A Young Poet and watching the adjacent lineup and users at the "Express 30 Minute Internet" computers. People of all stripes were there— young Asians, twentysomething guys with shorts, backpacks, and headphones; trim fifty year-olds. Some were probably foreign exchange students or tourists. I surmise the rest were either "living on a budget" or of a minimalist bent. (There's that minimalist thing again; I really must pare down my materialistic side.)

I left with a hardcover copy ofJoseph Heller's Something Happened—we'll see if I have the time, this is one long book—and finally made my way across the street to The Centre

***

I had centre orchestra seats one row in from the stage. Had I been a deranged fan, I could have with little effort assaulted one of the musicians or uprooted the drum kit before being restrained by security. I sat between two forty-/fiftyish couples. The male of the pair to my left pointed to my library book and asked if I was studying for exams. 'Gads, man, how old do you take me for? [Privately, I gloated.]

The opening act was the Amanda Tosoff Quartet, a local group of young musicians. Unlike rock concerts, the sound level at the front and everywhere else in the theatre was altogether sane. Unfortunately, the other instruments drowned out Ms. Tosoff's piano on the louder passages. Either she wasn't hitting the keys hard enough, or the sound technicians goofed up the gain on her microphones. She made herself available for CD signing at the end of her show. Seems to be a very nice girl.

As for the main act, the quartet was outstanding. On piano was Vancouver-raised Renee Rosnes, well-known and respected in jazz circles. I don't know if she and Bobby Hutcherson were a little peeved that the evening wasn't sold out (in Renee's hometown). I walk away convinced that the vibraphone is not my favourite of instruments, no slight to Mr. H.

It was really fun to watch the interplay between players and how they would let their arms hang loose while one of them was soloing. CBC Radio was there to record the show. One other observation for the night: for sheer calorie burn, the award goes to the drummers.

Great straightforward jazz.

84

2006-06-25T08:18:00.000-07:00

G H W
www.gavinhw.blogspot.com

June 25 2006

Those On The Internet
East, West, North, South, & Up

Dear Readers

I have just finished Helene Hanff's 84, Charing Cross Road, brought to my attention by the inimitable Wheatsone, fellow cubicle farm denizen. It's an easy single-sitting read for anyone born before 1980; for those born after 1980, half that or an outright nonstarter.

There are lots of reviews here, so I won't bother. What I found endearing and life-affirming was the "The more things change, the more they stay the same" aspect. It's pretty much like reading a modern day email, except that fifty years ago, the gap between replies was in the order of ten days. I suppose language doesn't change that much when measured in decades. Not so long ago I took out a Library of Congress recording of Jelly Roll Morton to sample some early jazz. What surprised me (Creole accent aside) was how thoroughly modern his vernacular was in the recorded interviews. Like a modern-day Louisianan. There were however a few dated expressions in this book that I haven't heard in ages, such as "a whole raft of ... cousins", meaning a whole bunch.

Jelly Roll Morton is dead (1941). So are the two correspondents, Frank Doel (1968) , and Helene Hanff (1997). For some reason, the book seems more real to me, more flesh and blood, when I consider that Frank, Helene, and I all drew breath at the same time.

I've read that the screen adaptation is pretty good. If any of you have the DVD, feel free to drop it off on my desk at work.

Sincerely,
Gavin

C: Drive

2006-06-23T18:09:00.000-07:00

Some videos from last weekend on Commercial Drive. Thanks to Den for helping me figure out how to do it.

Dancing In The Street

The Crowds

The Drums (large file)

Alarm Clocks Kill Dreams

2006-06-18T19:48:00.000-07:00

We made the right decision spending Father's Day at the second annual Car-Free Commercial Drive Festival instead of heading south to the Seattle Premium Outlets. The weather held, and in spite of a local's (and co-worker's) prediction that the area will be flooded with tourists from Surrey, the family and I had a great time. I didn't notice too many Money Mart or "As Seen On TV" patrons in the area.

We took the SkyTrain and a connecting bus. It goes without saying that automobiles weren't welcome at the event: the six blocks along Commercial Drive from East 1st Avenue to Venables were pedestrian-only for the day. Outside this zone were Fratelli European Bakery [closed!] and, perhaps a sure sign of gentrification, Starbucks and Cobs Bakery. The bus was diverted to run parallel to Commercial along Victoria Drive. We got there at noon.

It was a great opportunity to break in my new Converse "Baboo Ox" sneakers, a Father's Day gift. I was worried that the toe box was going to be too narrow, like the Vans I tried on on Saturday but that turned out to be unfounded. Six hours on my feet and no pain. (Note: Betty also bought me a whole bunch of Underarmour gear. Great stuff!)

With the two kids in tow and the crowds, I couldn't capture everything on "film"—stores with interesting-looking window displays that we didn't step foot in: Sativa Labyrinth, purveyors of gothic goods, fetish items and hemp products; the hippy Beckwoman's, "because my father never owned a business and I'm not a man"; the Kid's Zone play area, the stalls and activities at the two parks and spilling onto the side streets—all these went unrecorded. Herewith, however, an account of some of what we did see.

Mosaic taken early in the day. You can still see the storefronts.

Mosaic as above, but taken a bit later in the day.

Roller derby musical chairs.

Crowd near Venables.

Donair meat

Crowd #2

Crowd #3 (with wide angle attachment)

Soccer fans at one of the many ristorantes.

Calamari at Lombardo's.

Salmon pizza at Lombardo's, made and cooked right in front of us (our table was near the counter).

Quintessential Drive #1

Quintessential Drive #2

Quintessential Public Dreams #1

Quintessential Public Dreams #2, Recycle Lady on stilts.
This picture's for the boys. Click on it for a sizeable blowup. Ain't I nice?

Car-free theme

Crowds, looking toward the North Shore.

Quintessential Drive #3

Urban Empire

A taste of Europe.

The title of this blog entry is taken from a tee shirt being sold at the Work Less Party table. I asked the person manning the booth whether this was part of the Slow Movement—I had just finished reading Carl Honoré's In Praise of Slow. Indeed it was I was told, except that Carl's book was one work he didn't care much for. While I looked at the shirts, he chatted about an upcoming party with two women friends wearing "Dyke Walk Ottawa" tees. Nearby, a man sported a paper bag hat emblazoned with the slogan "Satan Drives An SUV". The smell of pot was pervasive here at Grandview Park.

Boy, did I ever feel out of place.

The Letter 'F' - Part 1

2006-06-15T22:57:00.000-07:00

There's this blog game whereby somebody "tags" another person to write about ten things beginning with a certain letter. Well, it has happened to me. Andrea, after some deliberation and for reasons unknown to me, was kind enough to confer on me the letter 'F'. So here is the first in a series.

1. Fart
Matthew and Shaula, like most kids, are fascinated by flatulence. Last weekend, for instance, I let the tape run on the camcorder and gave Matthew free rein to talk about anything. The topic he chose was "peeing and pooing." Shaula piped in with her take on the matter.

"Farting means that your butt can talk," concluded Matthew.

Matthew also adds that his paternal grandmother laughs whenever she lets loose. We are talking about a seventy year-old lady here. I have no desire to establish the veracity of this claim.

***

About two years ago Shaula wanted to buy a gag toy from a dollar store. For some reason I couldn't remember the right word for it, so I asked a female clerk whether they had any "fart bags" in stock. She looked at me funny and pointed to the shelf with the Whoopee Cushions, they came in small and large. (I attribute my poor memory to my then-recent stroke.)

***

I recently saw a Science World billboard with words to the effect that people fart on average 14 times daily. This means that whenever your co-worker or boss gets up from his or her desk, quite often it's for no other reason than to let that warm little bubble see the light of day. Admittedly, this is done in conjunction with Number 2, and less frequently, Number 1.

***

I've met a few respectable people, more stranger than friend (like the chap at the Space Centre), who aren't shy about letting her rip in mid-conversation: "The transit of the 9th magnitude star ... BLEE-ET-ET ... is visible from Vancouver." It does make me a little uncomfortable, but I respect their honesty and stance.

***

I have it on good authority that it's a hassle farting at the Metrotown branch of the Burnaby Public Library. If you're anywhere on the second floor—and one can never know for certain whether the culminating gas is going to rush out as a silent stream or sound like a '76 Chevy Monza firing on three cylinders, so one has to play it safe—you have to trek all the way downstairs to the restrooms. It's not easy to blame somebody else in the quiet of the stacks.

***

Someone I know once blew a real stinker just before getting off the elevator. When he exited, and to his dismay, two people got on—two hot-looking women, okay they were young UBC students. The elevator doors closed behind him.

***

A friend of mine had observing time at the Canada-France-Hawaii Telescope atop 13,796 feet (4,205 m) Mauna Kea. On his spare time he decided to hike up to the summit from a much lower elevation, but only after consuming a can of soda pop. He recommends against doing this unless you are prepared for some of the most explosive and sustained farts humanly possible.

How The Wedding Went

2006-06-12T19:49:00.000-07:00

As a rule I hate weddings. It's no fun wearing a hot, non-functional monkey suit over a shirt that wrinkles and untucks after five minutes, and then having to don a matching noose. Mercifully, it wasn't hot Saturday and my new shirt fit nicely and was comfortable, so I almost liked looking like a goof. So enjoy (laugh at? cuss at?) the photo of a rare event—yours truly looking like he's either at his high school graduation again, or is starting out as a realtor.

The ceremony was at a church in Kerrisdale. It went without a hitch, was unpretentious and short, lasting about 40 minutes. Because I didn't have the camera with me all day, I had time to take it all in and enjoy the food. Normally, I'm too preoccupied shooting.

Dinner was great, mostly seafood, my favourite. The sixth item on the menu was squab [pigeon]. I passed on it of course. The kids got a kick playing with the three pigeon heads. My brother brought three more over from another table for our amusement.

My daughter caught the bouquet and had a blast dancing with brother Matthew and her two cousins. For music, they played music videos ranging from Elvis to Motown to Gwen Stefani to the latest in hip hop. Needless to say, I stayed off the dance floor. (Imagine me in a suit jerking spasmodically to the beat. Ugh!)

In addition to the standard restaurant menu desserts, there were fruit platters, cake, shortbreads, and Murchies provided coffee and a multi-tiered plate of sugar-coated nuts.

Here's to a great life ahead of you, cousin Charmaine.

44

2006-06-11T09:29:00.001-07:00

I thought I heard a dead woman sneeze
Four minutes and four seconds into a song
from Bill Evan's Waltz For Debby.
Perhaps she is not yet gone—
Just nearly.

Wedding This Weekend

2006-06-09T21:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Multicultural Potluck Night [aka, the annual mad-dash gorge-out] at my daughter's school. Ninety percent of her school is Asian, mostly Chinese, with India, the Philippines, and Vietnam thrown in. The four of us went, plus Betty's cousin Lou. Our carefully considered culinary contribution, representing North America, was a box of Church's Fried Chicken and for good measure, some Chicken Tenders.

So it was that our chicken blended in with the browns, tans and muted yellows of samosas, spring rolls, sausage rolls, spaghetti, chow mein, vermicelli, tortellini, deep-fried wontons, jerked chicken, pilafs, and pot stickers. People were grabbing for the wings and thighs even before Betty had a chance to put the food on the table.

***

Saturday is my first cousin's wedding. Fortunately I was able to fit a donated grey Harry Rosen suit that was now way too small for my brother. My recent weight loss has come in handy. Think I'll spend the money I saved by not having to buy a goofy suit on some books. Whooops, just did exactly that—ordered 84 Charing Cross online, recommended by co-worker Wheatstone, and a half-dozen other titles.

The reception is held at a restaurant that fell victim to a recent string of holdups by a single gunman, including one incident on Main street that resulted in dead diners. The evening should prove interesting.

There might also be some internecine squabbling; I don't come from a closely-knit extended family. As a result I'm not close to this cousin and besides, she's like 15 years younger than me.

***

Hats Off Day 2006

2006-06-04T11:59:00.000-07:00

Every year the [Burnaby] Heights Merchants Association and the North Burnaby community shut down ten blocks of Hastings Street for Hats Off Day—a parade, street festival, and car Show & Shine.

We weren't able to make it last year because we were in Seattle shopping. Fortunately for everyone the weather was cooperative this year. The day started off coolish and cloudy, but by noon it was sunny and around 20°C.

The more "serious" faction of motorcycle enthusiasts were out in numbers with their hawgs, in charge of side-street security and traffic.

There were open houses, giveaways, good food, and great music. A street performer did a moving rendition of Louis Armstrong's What A Wonderful World, and I was blown away by the panache and ease-of-playing shown by a nerdy-looking high school jazz drummer. We had chicken gyros for lunch and sampled some Passion Fruit Lemonade at Starbucks. All in all, a pleasant afternoon.

***
Click on any image below to enlarge.

The Shriners, of course.

Mosaic 1 (click for larger image).

Mosaic 2 (click for larger image).

The kids got to sit in the driver's seat of this truck. I've always had a weak spot for brushed aluminum and stainless steel, hence the picture.

Get a load of the fire-truck red colour of this, uh, fire truck.

Italian sausage.

Looking east toward Capitol Hill.

There were legions of hungry people at the Legion Hall.

Wonder if passengers are allowed to drink coffee in this car.

Looking west.

Lovely lines.

Looking west, another shot.

I've always wanted to do a panorama of a fruit stand/fruits, so here's something fulfilled (click for larger image).

A Book, Films and Music

2006-06-04T00:36:00.000-07:00

Last week I finished Stephen Lewis's Race Against Time, a collection of lectures done for the CBC. I'm pretty lazy about reviewing books and often have nothing intelligent to add. For other's comments, go here. I do, however, wish to draw attention to the following gleanings:

Women, specifically grandmothers, have become the backbone of southern and eastern Africa. They tend to the sick, put food on the table, and support the orphaned young—in many communities, the mothers and fathers have all succumbed to AIDS.

Famine is still an issue, but often because of AIDS, not drought. There are simply not enough able bodies to grow, harvest, and produce food.

To get anything done in the bigwig political and U.N. spheres, you have to put up with a depressing amount of bullshit like sucking up to the boss, having to deal with egomaniacs and buffoons, and putting up with office politics, finger pointing, and a gross lack of accountability. No surprise there, but refreshing to hear it from Lewis who is pretty much no holds barred in his condemnations.

This year I have committed 0.7% of my net income to the plight.

Me being me, I question my motives. I can truthfully say that it's not the result of guilt brought on by some religious checklist of good deeds as I'm not religious. What then...?

***

From Marc Ian Barasch's Field Notes On The Compassionate Life

Like most people, I adore my offspring, even when they drive me crazy; love my parents, despite the corkscrew of childhood; dote on my siblings (though there is that scrapbook of old slights); treasure my friends (even if they sometimes let me down). Conventional wisdom wouldn't fault me for saving the best stuff for my nearest and dearest and giving the rest of humanity the leftovers.

***

I rented The Incredibles for the kids. Good entertainment. I watched Finding Home till 4:00AM this morning. A quiet film about place, love, and forgiveness. The first half is slow with some weak dialogue but it picks up admirably toward the end. The average rating at IMDb is 4.5*. I give it a 7*. Recommended.

***

[Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris: All The Roadrunning—I first heard this playing at Chapters. Bought it immediately. Looking at the images in the CD booklet, Emmylou is ageless and still beautiful; even the post Dire Straits Knopfler is getting more handsome with time.]

Frozen Sushi

2006-05-31T19:51:00.000-07:00

My daughter has been asked to be part of her Elementary school's track and field team. They are being bused to the Zone Championships at Swanguard Stadium. She's the second fastest girl in her class, third in her grade.

Betty and I congratulated her. Betty mentioned that when she was in school she was always among the last to be picked in sports, but first when it came to the spelling bee. She had joined the volleyball team in grade eight only to become the team assistant. Team assistant?, I asked her, What exactly did you do as assistant? With downcast eyes Betty said quietly, Nothing.

***

Forgot to mention a great "photographic" moment I espied on Fraser Street over the weekend. A young man with a baseball cap and an elderly gent in a wheelchair were seated at the window table of a Chinese-Western cafe sharing a plate of french fries. It was dark inside, the cushioned restaurant benches and melamine-topped tables mostly empty. The two did not exchange words, maybe none were needed. They sat in the quiet enjoyment of dipping and eating the fries with their fingers—one set of hands young, quick, ready to take on the world, the other veined, discolored, ready to be taken by the world.

***

The in-laws told us to go by their place after work yesterday to pick up some sushi, a maki dynamite roll, it turns out. A frozen dynamite roll. Trust me, rice doesn't freeze/thaw well. What was somebody thinking?

Brokeback Mountain 2/5, Body Fat, and Baking

2006-05-29T20:35:00.000-07:00

I finally bought an oven thermometer to figure out why my New York Cheesecakes, though tasty, were sunburnt. I suspected an inaccurate oven dial. This turns out to be the case. The Kitchen Aid mechanical thermometer gives a reading of 400°F when the oven dial reads 325°F, and similarly, 325°F when the oven indicates 260°F.

We also bought a new-fangled scale that gives weight, body fat, and total body water readings. I'm 151 lbs., with 16% body fat, and at a very aqueous 67%. The 16% means I'm fit. [My ego once again undergoes inflationary expansion.]

I woke up at 3:00AM Sunday morning and read Annie Proulx's short story Brokeback Mountain. Admittedly, short stories aren't my thing, but I am partial to love stories. However, this love story just did not move me. Sure the desolate landscape adds to the loneliness and coldness. Sure there are things that go unspoken and remain so to the end. Still, I remain unmoved.

There are maybe one or two memorable lines, like "...if you can't fix it, you've got to stand it." I for one would not be inspired to adapt it to the big screen. One other thing. For some reason, I was conscious throughout that I was reading a book and never became fully immersed in the universe created by the writer.

I bought the book because it includes the screenplay for the celebrated motion picture. I'm interested in the mechanics, formatting practices, and process of crafting a script. I have the DVD but don't intend to watch it till I've read the whole book.

The 2*/5* rating is for the short story only.

South Hill Celebrates

2006-05-27T18:19:00.000-07:00

The family and I spent the afternoon on Fraser Street to check out the South Hill Celebrates event. Here are some shots. Note: I've just figured out how to use the special effects features of my latest image management software.

[Panorama with truncated people]

[A self-portrait + effects]

[Ouch! Now you know why I don't eat red meats + tad of saturation]

[A riot of colours + tad of saturation]

[A really neat bush with flowers + warmth]

[Celebrity politician + cropped]

Aside from the hip Fraser Bakery (now known as Breka Bakery and Café) and a European deli just south of East 49th, it really felt like East Vancouver. The strip is anchored by a Fields store, and by Dollar Giant. I really, really want to live in the west side now...

Chapters Sale: Due Diligence

2006-05-25T22:05:00.000-07:00

If I recall correctly, there use to be a sign inside each Chapters store that boasted "100 000 Titles In Stock". I suspect that the real in-store figure is more like 40 000. Without knowing how many and which of these 40 000 titles were Chapters "bestsellers" and eligible for a 50% discount come Sunday, I wasn't sure if a trip to the store this weekend was worthwhile or not. (All other books are 20% off.) So I did some reconnoitering this evening.

I flagged down an employee with pink and blue hair. She led me to the computer kiosk to look up the bestsellers list and started to mention that she'd probably have to go to the front desk to generate a printout, when we were interrupted in mid-sentence by a 50-ish man sitting at a table (which I hadn't noticed till this instant), arrayed with what were obviously his book—the author at a book signing, no less.

He pitched the premise and plot—JFK's second assassin (the conspiracy theory people were right after all!) was grooming his son, who was living in northern BC, to assassinate the current president. I read the back cover and thumbed through a few chapters. The sales associate had left for the front by this time. Not my genre, I told him, as gently as I could. I noticed another book off to the side. It's a book about how, after he was clinically dead for eight minutes in a drowning incident, he eventually made sense of the world and found god. Make that God. I beelined to the Biography section as soon as I got the list in my hands.

A very short list, it turns out. If it's correct, then there are a blistering total of 22 titles. 22 out of 40 000 means 0.6% of the books are at 50% off. And when you factor in the current exchange rate of 1.12 versus the 1.3 to 1.4 currency conversion typically set for each book (e.g. $29 US, $39 CDN), then the 50% isn't so attractive anymore and not a big hit to Chapter's wallet.

A price comparison of two non-bestsellers on my list of to-gets yields the following:

The Caine Mutiny, $17.44 at Amazon.ca, $18.36 at Chapters (20% off list).
Second Coming, $17.44 at Amazon.ca, $18.40 at Chapters (20% off list).

So the 20% off non-bestsellers is not so attractive, either.

If you're comfortable with ordering online (I am) and don't need a title immediately, then the Chapters promotion is a non-event.

I was going to say words of encouragement to the author on my way out, "Keep up with the writing," perhaps. But he had trapped another patron. So I thought the better of it and left.

List of Books to Pick Up at Chapters this Sunday

2006-05-23T20:53:00.000-07:00

Chapters is having an in-store 50% off bestsellers and 20% off all other books sale this coming Sunday, May 28th. You need to be an iRewards member. I'm currently building a list of books. An asterisk indicates a good chance of my actually making a purchase, assuming that the title is in stock, of course.

I welcome any suggestions.

Non-Bestsellers:

Love, Love, Love: And Other Essays; Light Reflections on Love, Life, and Death - Charles C. Taliaferro
On Love: A Novel - Alain de Botton *
How Proust Can Change Your : Not a Novel - Alain De Botton *
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay - Michael Chabon
stuff by David Eggers
The Caine Mutiny - Herman Wouk *
Einstein's Dreams - Alan Lightman *
The Eyre Affair - Jasper Fforde
Marriage, a History : How Love Conquered Marriage - Stephanie Coontz *
The Sins of Scripture : Exposing the Bible's Texts of Hate to Reveal the God of Love - John Shelby Spong
Chance: A Guide to Gambling, Love, the Stock Market and Just About Everything Else - Amir D. Aczel
The Second Coming : A Novel - Walker Percy *
Crossing to Safety - Wallace Earle Stegner *
Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Edith Grossman (Translator) *
A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole *
Handling Sin - Michael Malone *

Notes: 4., 6. recommended by W., who, as a book, would get a mixed review.

Bestsellers:

See updated entry.

Hahahahahahahaha:

The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
Mission Impossible 2 Movie Script Screenplay - Robert Towne
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood - Rebecca Wells [Sorry, the title is just way too irritating]

Interesting Title, But...

A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian - Marina Lewycka

Long Weekend Mish Mash

2006-05-22T18:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Matthew for the first time, recounted a dream:

Grandpa said "Where's your new whistle?"
I told him "It's in the box [of toys on the bed]."

How he's grown! Also, he came up with this one yesterday:

London Drugs is falling down, falling down, falling down...

Betty's mom tells us that Matthew's been boycotting wieners of late because "they're made from cow penises." Evidently, Matthew overheard me telling this to Shaula.

***

Betty and I spent all Saturday indoors cleaning up our hovel. I have five full garbage bags of clothes, accumulated over the last ten years plus, to give away. I'm surprise I'm not currently doing time for all the fashion mistakes I've committed. Truth be told, most of the articles are simply too large for the slimmer me. Lots of quality stuff, some unworn.

Which reminds me, my sister-in-law was over with the family for dinner and admitted defeat. I was the winner of our diet bet (I lost my 10 lbs. and she failed to lose her seven).

***

Betty and I took a morning walk in the 'hood, then visited Victoria Drive to pick up some bakery. Despite being peppered by the slightest of raindrops and the coolish temperature, I'd say the warm season has finally arrived. The humidity certainly made it feel warm. I am amazed at all the greenery, especially when it has that saturated after-a-rainfall spring green colour. Yep, even here in lil' ol' East Van.

Later, I took the kids to see Over The Hedge. It's quite good, actually, what'd you expect these days, but the experience was marred by an overzealous laugh-at-everything patron behind us, a fifty-ish woman.

[Newspaper-cum-trash box, Victoria Drive at East 43rd Avenue]

The Jerk

2006-05-20T23:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, I had an encounter with the arrogant, scornful, self-important, high and mighty, swollen-headed jerk. The first person in line had momentarily left, so that left just me in the room, awaiting my turn. Then he walks in.

"Is that yours in there, or is that someone else's?" were his first-ever words to me.
"No, somebody else's," I said.
"That's no good," I thought I heard him mumble. He leaves his stuff on the counter and leaves the room.

Well, excuse me. Sorry if I was in line before you. Should I have consulted with you first? Deepest regrets that I'm not on your roadmap to greatness. In sackcloth and ashes that I'm not cute and have breasts. Humblest apologies about my being born. Here, why don't you just go ahead of me, walk all over me, and then, maybe as a favour to you, I'll kill myself—outside of course, I wouldn't want to make you feel queasy or anything.

How would you like me to run a marathon on a hot day and then pick you up by your nose with my armpit, you jerk?