Day 303: The Mysterious Visitor

This Saturday was a restful day of calm and relaxation at Montrose. Chance, Slippers, and myself spent the afternoon enjoying the sun. Between naps, online poker, occasional meals, and not grinding, it was a very good day (and I even earned back some of my squandered cash).

But it changed abruptly when Chance began hissing at his reflection in the window. Silly Chance - he thinks there's another cat there. Hang on a second... my instincts were wrong - and Chance was right. We had a visitor.


Chance eyes the mysterious visitor

A neighbourhood cat had boldly climbed up on the window ledge and was peering in at my boys. This was very exciting for both Chance and Slippers and they did their best to dissuade the cat from entering the house. The intruder cat, whom I have named Gerald, was undaunted by the efforts of Chance and Slippers and calmly investigated their environs - to Chance's growing consternation.


Chance hisses at Gerald

Gerald eventually left the window sill but did not scamper away in fear - he just continued to prance about the garden, eyeing the boys inside. Chance and Slippers felt the situation quite unfair: Gerald controls the outdoors and outer garden - and seems to want the indoors as well! Chance would not let this happen.


Chance watches Gerald

Slippers pleaded with me to let him go outside and "take care of things", but I was unmoved, and Slippers had to be content observing Gerald frolicking in the garden.


Slippers watches Gerald

I went outside to talk to Gerald and see what sort of a cat he is. He seemed a normal cat and did not run away from me - but he was not as friendly as Chance or Slippers (what cat is?). I suspect that we have not seen the last of Gerald.


Gerald enjoys a brisk stroll

Day 302: The Spirit of Radio

These are tough times for the morning commuter, especially in Vancouver. It's been said before, but I will say it again: Radio is Dead. The invisible airwaves no longer crackle with life.

What do I hate the most about Radio? Probably Jack-FM. This horrible corporate behemoth claims to be "playing what we want". But this consists mainly of crap from the early 80s - so power to them and people who like that, but don't pretend that it's edgy or interesting. Other mainstream stations are almost as bad - 95.3 abandoned modern music some years back and now seems like a Jack copy station. I may not have listened to it when it stuck to top-40 songs, but at least that was actually new stuff and had a purpose. Now it's pointless. The Fox isn't as bad, but it mostly plays horrible "heavy" music from Creed tribute bands or Theory of a DeadMan devotees. The End simply plays "Classic Rock" from another era and can be counted on to play Nirvana every 30 minutes - it's 1992 forever! The only station worth listening to is the classic rock station 101.1: because if you're going to play the same damn songs all the time, at least let them be good songs. But a listener has no chance of hearing something new or interesting on the radio, and that is wrong.

In considering why the radio situation has gotten even worse in the last couple of years, it is patently obvious. Kids don't listen to the radio. They listen to their Ipods and Internet Radio while text-messaging their stepdads on their mobile phones. The only ones who listen to radio are aging dinosaurs like me - so they will happily play us Human League to remind of Junior High when we still had hair.

But the good news is that since radio is dying, we won't have to put up with this nonsense for much longer.

Now for the nostalgia types, here's a lyric that no longer applies:

"Now our children grow up prisoners
All their lives radio listeners"
- R.E.M. "Radio Song"

Day 301: Examining My Hubris

In previous blogs I have arrogantly discussed results at the poker table, leading readers unfamiliar with the literary concept of the "unreliable narrator" to believe that I am a solid player and that I know what I am doing. Fat chance! This masquerade has recently been uncovered as I have fallen afoul of that most human of sins: hubris.

Since writing one of my more boastful entries, it has been a steady downhill slide for my bankroll. I won't bore you with grubby figures - but I can say that June 28th was the peak day and that all profits were flitted away by October 17th when my net status reverted to exactly $0. (Note: this is a net $0, I hadn't actually lost money yet.)

The causes of the decline were several:
1) Reverses happen - even to good people. This must shock no one.
2) I played too many expensive multi-table tournaments without placing.
3) I played too often while "feeling bad". If you are not mentally sound, it's impossible to play good poker.

But they say that the darkest hour is just before dawn. From this chasm may yet come light.

Chastened, I have retreated to my roots - the trusty old $10 Sit-N-Go - a game that I can slowly and steadily beat. It doesn't matter how long it takes; I will recover all my lost profits. In fact I've calmly recovered 1/6th in just the last 9 days. But this operation will take two months - and I am prepared for the long haul. Now this low level may be a far cry from the $200 Sit-N-Go that DarkwingDuck amuses himself with, but I am unembarassed and unashamed.

With my game improved, my bankroll strengthened, and my hubris eliminated, I will be ready for the big boys when the time comes. I will be stronger in the long run, thanks to these past three dark months.

Day 300: Some Thoughts On Chocolate

I enjoy chocolate and usually eat at least one chocolate bar a day. I am not ashamed of my sweet tooth and consider this indulgence one of my better traits. One of the fonder memories from my misspent youth was when my brother sold chocolate bars for his band. The theory was that you were supposed to go door-to-door, but we simply bought 3 or 4 boxes to eat ourselves (and marked the tallies on his wall for some reason). I always preferred the bars rather than the chocolate covered almonds, but I wouldn't begrudge someone who disagreed.

I don't understand people who claim to not like chocolate. To not like chocolate is crazy. But simply "liking chocolate" is not really enough - and I don't completely trust someone's judgement unless they are an unabashed chocoholic like me. No one who loves chocolate can be a bad person, and no harm ever came to the world when enjoying a chocolatey treat.

My tastes in chocolate vary from week to week. Although I enjoy gourmet chocolates ("real chocolate" to the choco-snobs), I can't generally afford this manner of indulgence and restrict my choco-consumption to garden variety brands for the most part. There are no bad chocolate bars (EatMores don't count) - and I've gone through phases of preferring Skor, Mars, Coffee Crisp, or even an Oh Henry. Fusion bars are good - and many of the newer hybrid bars are also good: Caramel Kit Kats (for example).

Today I enjoyed a Twix bar. Cookie? Caramel? Chocolate? Delicious!

But the best chocolatey treat ever is the one, the only:


I Love Turtles!

Day 299: My So-Called NHL Career

One of the many insane things I did when I was young (8 or 9) was map out my statistics when I made it to the NHL in the improbably distant year of 1991. Like what I read on the backs of my hockey cards, I compiled detailed listings of my goals, assists, and points with a variety of teams over a long 20-year career. The fact that I didn't play organized hockey did not dampen my enthusiasm.

I imagined that I would first play for an exotic Eastern Team like Quebec. Apart from the Nordiques, one of my chosen destinations was the then-new New Jersey Devils - mainly because there was a city in New Jersey called "Garfield". I liked Garfield because Garfield was a cat. I once formed a club with a friend called "The Cat Club" which solely consisted of drawing posters of cats - or what I deemed to be cats (my artistic abilities were never too apparent, but I digress).

Later on as I aged, I realized that my hockey dream would probably not come to pass. I may have accepted this as inevitable but since the players were all much older than me, I still sub-consciously felt "There's still time - I could make it!"

A turning point was when the much-touted Eric Lindros joined the NHL. Lindros was the first NHLer that was younger than me and this was a good wake-up call saying "You are no longer a child." Increasing numbers of children have joined the NHL since Lindros, until five years ago it settled into an equilibrium - about half the players on the Canucks were older than me, while half were younger. I wasn't old yet, but I was getting there.

But time marches on, and soon will come the day when there is not a single Vancouver Canuck who is older than me. A glance at this year's roster shows how close we are coming to that scary precipice. There is exactly one Canuck who was alive to celebrate my 0th birthday - none other than the pride of Medicine Hat, Trevor Linden. And people are already bemoaning that he has lost a step this year...

Sigh. Time is a friend to no one.


Keep on truckin', Trevor

Day 298: Get Myself Arrested

I had an odd dream last night. I was somehow arrested while transiting on BC Ferries. I'm not sure exactly what I did to deserve prison, but I didn't seem to think it a wrongful arrest. Roggles was also arrested, as were two people that I work with - one of whom was then transferred to an Indiana Federal Prison. Their arrests appeared coincidental, whereas Roggles and I were guilty of the same crime.

Roggles and I knew we were being hunted and tried to hide from the police in the ferry bathroom. I thought it was a bad idea but Roggles was insistent, so I meekly went along with the criminal mastermind's scheme. The evasion was unsuccessful and we were quickly found. When the cop arrived I slugged him in the face. After he subdued me, I asked "Are you going to punch me because I hit you?" - but he just laughed and said they didn't do that.

We sat down on the deck, handcuffed, and they offered around some chewing gum (Big Red). The atmosphere was quite collegial. I took the gum in my mouth but quickly spat it out: a futile protest at being arrested. But Roggles enjoyed his gum and didn't seem too glum. I think he wanted to be arrested. I remember being panicked at the thought of a loss of freedom.

Day 297: I Am A Dour Old Fool

I am a dour old fool. It's true!

Recently, an ex-blogger friend of mine suggested listening to some songs by a band (The Magic Numbers) that he liked and thought might even be twee enough for me. I literally leaped at the chance, sat down at my computer, and put on my best listening slippers. I enjoy listening to new things - especially those recommended by friends, and hoped to be entertained.

But right from the first few notes, I was disappointed. Although it seemed like the sort of music I might listen to, I just didn't like the songs very much. I couldn't put my figure on it, but quickly decided that this band was second-rate. But this was only my initial knee-jerk reaction - I will give them another go.

Generally for me it usually comes down to the sound of the singer's voice. Sometimes I like it, and sometimes I don't. This time I didn't, but then there's no accounting for taste.

Most interestingly, I thought about my evaluation process and realized I was doing wrong. I was thinking as a critic right from the start, and not as an ordinary listener. This is a flaw in the process. Informed criticism comes from the wellspring of one's humanity, and not from the outward cerebral processes.

I must first learn to listen without prejudice.

Day 296: Something to Complain About

It always amazes me that people will find something to complain about in almost anything - even if it's a good thing. I was at last night's Canuck game - and it was a great game! The top line looked dangerous and Matthias Ohlund played one of the best games I've ever seen. There were lots of penalties - but Chicago richly deserved almost every one because they just couldn't keep up with Vancouver. The new NHL has never looked better and I'm sold. But this doesn't stop people from complaining about it.

I've been reading the odd hockey blog on the net, and negative posts about this or that almost outnumber positive posts. This is ridiculous - and I challenge the people posting complaints to actually watch some random game from 6 years ago. It's fine to have opinions, but it is a good idea to aim for correct opinions.

Yes - there are more penalties in games these days. But the next person I hear complain about a game that "After all the penalties there was no flow and no entertainment" should remember who is to blame for this. It's not the referee for calling penalties correctly. It's the idiot players who can't remember not to drape their stick around the other guy. If the refs stop calling penalties, then we will see a clutch&grab mess devoid of entertainment - and I don't want that back.

We have to take the good with the bad. The price for recapturing freewheeling hockey is to see a parade to the penalty box for now. And it's not affecting all teams equally - the Canucks have taken far less penalties than their opponents - and deservedly so. Even Ruutu has been a saint so far. It seems that the Canucks are well coached and the boys have learned their lessons well.

For the Canucks look really really good this year. It is not fanciful to imagine a parade down Robson in June.

Day 295: The Tricycle Race

Today was the company kickoff for the United Way's annual extortion campaign for worthy causes. At our workplace, the plan was for a tricycle race around a short figure-8 track. A few of us did some trial runs on the trikes, and I could clearly see that I was pretty much the worst at it - partly due to my height (though some taller people had no problem), but mainly because I'm slightly clumsy at this sort of thing.

After a few uninspiring laps by the first four contestants, it was my turn. I quickly raced off to a slow start, but then ran into some troubles. Uncouth ruffians had snapped off the pedals during the trial period (Confession: one of the ruffians was me), so it was quite difficult to operate the tricycle properly. About 1/3 of the way through the race I lost my balance and started to slip. This was itself no concern - a tricycle is built for stability after all - but it did cause me to momentarily pedal backwards on my trike while at a good clip. On trikes such as this, this activates the brakes. Not expecting the sudden stop, my body went over the handlebars and into the pavement, only cushioned by my face and glasses.


Tricycle Race: The Hideous Aftermath

Highly embarassed by this, I wandered back to the start area - not completely aware that my face had multiple cuts and bruises and was bleeding profusely. Truth be told: I felt no pain at this point. After going to the first aid clinic, I received bandages and other treatments and filled in a mess of paperwork (such as is required by a workplaced injury). Other coworkers offered me encouragement - pointing out how much more manly I'll look with scars on my face. Wow - thanks!

But by far the most annoying thing is that I now need new glasses as my current pair is all scratched up beyond repair. What a hassle.

Still - I did win the booby prize - a frustration ball.


Nothing like facial lacerations and a small ball to relieve stress

Day 294: Anatomy of a Strike

BC teachers take to the streets while Gordon Campbell contemplates

The schools in British Columbia have been shut down these last couple of weeks due to an increasingly nasty strike by the teachers (see above for a satirical look at how each side sees the other). Until now, the only impact on me as a non-parent (Chance and Slippers are home schooled) is that my commute time has been reduced due to lower traffic volumes on the road. But the strike got personal last night when our ball hockey was cancelled because the gym was closed. Although affiliated with a school, the community centre where we play is a separate entity - and we had all thought that things would go ahead as normal. This was a mistake - and in retrospect in makes sense that no community centre worker would cross picket lines to operate on school property - but our entire collection of hockeyers did not considerate this possibility. Now - it seems strange that the NHL is back on the ice, but our beer league can't play due to a strike! Irony indeed - but such occurrences are all too common on Biff Henderson's Realm of Mystery.

Over thanksgiving I discussed the issue with my brother, now a teacher in training, and my aunt, a principal in Victoria. They both agreed that the militancy amongst the current crop of teachers is unprecedented, and that this one was going to get nasty before it got better. My brother and I both sighed and felt that the government had royally messed this one up (although my uncle felt the teachers were clearly at fault).

Personally, I don't understand why the BC government is trying so hard to screw and discredit the teachers and their union. They hate the BCTF - I understand that (and the BCTF hates the current government). But I do think that schools and teachers are important and teachers should earn an honourable wage - more than they now get. Of course I'd love to see them fire more bad teachers so the ones who remain really earn their pay - but that is a different issue.

But I can't respect the government for letting it come to this - because how does this end without someone losing face? And since the lefty teachers don't want to see a smug Gordon Campbell win another round (like he won the last election), I don't think they're going to back down anytime soon. But I have no inside information as I currently have no close contact with any public school teachers, so I could be wrong.

While we wait for a resolution: who suffers? The children. But I do expect to see an increase in private school enrollment next year.

It's a good time to be a private school teacher.

Day 293: Other People's Children

A child and a cat

If you boil things down right to the glue, the production and rearing of new children is an important activity. Our continued existence as a species pretty much depends on it! But to an outside observer, discussions on parenting and the cute foibles of your particular offspring are remarkably boring.

Today at work we had lunch with a long-departed team member (as opposed to rest of us who are soon-to-be-departed team members). As she had left in order to have her first child almost one year ago, and as most of the other lunchers were newish parents, the conversation quickly turned into a series of discussions of "how to get the baby to go to sleep", "what foods to feed the child", or repeated variants on "why are children so illogical?". I certainly have no problem with discussing such important issues and I actually quite like children of all ages - but the one-notedness and non-inclusiveness of the conversation was unfortunate.

As a cat-owner without experience or insight on human baby rearing, I was reduced to poking myself with a fork while I ate my beef dip in a doomed attempt to stay conscious.

But in reality, I think the worst of it is hearing people complaining about the difficulties of parenting while obviously absolutely delighted. Lucky bastards.

Day 292: Seattle vs. Toronto

Support Our Local Sports Teams

Growing up in Victoria, a short skip across the water from Seattle but a whole continent away from Toronto, one is faced with the choice of deciding which sports team to root for: the gutsy hard-working local team from Seattle or the underachieving "All-Canadian" team from Toronto. It's not a difficult decision. My affections for Seattle were firmly entrenched by the time I went to the Kingdome and watched our gallant warriors Julio Cruz, Richie Zisk, and Pat Putnam battle the Boston Red Sox in Carl Yastrzemski's last visit to Seattle. I think they may have actually won the game, which was a statistically rare event for the Mariners in the 1980s, and I fondly recall that ballcap with the trident on the front.

So I energetically root for our Seattle Mariners, and I cheer for our Seattle Seahawks, and I of course root for our Vancouver Canucks. Through thick and thin - I support our clubs - it's the patriotic thing to do as a Pacific Northwesterner. And anyone who can honestly say that they have faithfully followed those three "perennial losers" for the last 25 years knows what it is to be a true sports fan. Note: By "losers", I simply mean that they've never won anything yet - but we all know that this is the year! Except for the Mariners... they still have issues. I don't love bandwagon jumpers (like this year's crop of Canuck fans), but I can tolerate them as I optimistically believe that the religion of Canuckdom will somehow stick - and they will stay with the club through the trough that will someday come. But probably I'm just naive. But how can I fault someone for doing the correct thing: supporting the local team!

But what about Toronto? Why don't I like Toronto? Truth be told, I don't have anything against Toronto - but I have no ties to it. As I've never visited the place, it seems silly to root for them. I did back the Blue Jays in 1992/1993 - but not as enthusiastically as I would have supported the Mariners, and I would not have cried if they had lost. They're not my team! And though I don't follow basketball, it goes without saying that I don't support the Raptors and would support the Sonics (if I followed basketball that is).

As for our Seattle Seahawks - what a gutsy win in St. Louis that was last week! Nuts to all the naysayers out there - Matt Hasselback is a highly underrated quarterback, and Shaun Alexander is almost the best there is (though that honour goes to LaDanian Tomlinson). The only issues? Poor coaching (Fire Holmgren!) and an ability to lose any game at any time despite having a lead. But these are resolvable issues - and expect to see the boys hoist the Vince Lombardi trophy early in 2006.

Day 291: Thoughts On The Unbalanced Schedule

Today is the first day for the Vancouver Canucks in a new NHL tradition: back-to-back games in the same city. Our Vancouver Canucks battle their archrival Minnesota Wild in the first of what should be two intense divisional games. The increase in games against divisional opponents is an excellent innovation and should serve two purposes:
1) Foster more intense rivalries. True - the Minnesota rivalry isn't exactly Hulk Hogan vs. Andre The Giant - but imagine the atmosphere when Colorado or Calgary come to town for a back-to-back series. It will be electric.
2) Less travel! This is of underrated importance for Vancouver - as we historically have had the longest travel schedule in the league - and anything that reduces it is a definite positive.

What's the downside you say? We won't get to see Sidney Crosby this year? The Leafs and Habs only come to town once every three years? Although I consider the latter point a positive development, I will admit that others disagree. And although we won't see Sidney Crosby live, I can live with it - he will still be on TV. And to compare with the best-run league around (the NFL), the Pittsburgh Steelers don't play in Seattle every year and local Steeler fans deal with that. And don't forget that we "don't get to see" Florida, Washington, and Carolina this year - which is OK by me.

So I give a big Kudos to the NHL for introducing the more unbalanced schedule with increased divisional play. It is a positive thing for the league and for Vancouver.

Day 290: A Stay of Execution

A couple of weeks ago, my company announced that our project had been cancelled. Amidst the furious weeping and gnashing of teeth, management worked to find additional positions within the company. They today announced the aftermath and final conclusions of this effort.

Our approximately 80 employees are to be further reduced to 25 - and even these are only for a short six-month period (pending an additonal stay of execution). Through some cosmic quirk, I have been selected amongst the 25. Though pleased to recognized in such a Darwinian fashion, I (like the Rolling Stones) have mixed emotions.

Because after this six month stay of execution, the axe will still fall.


Awaiting execution is hard on the psyche

Day 289: Thanksgiving Tournament 2005

I hope that everyone had a delightful thanksgiving with as much turkey, ham, and tuna as you could eat. Sleep well today - as that's what Thanksgiving Tuesday is for.

I journeyed back to Victoria to visit the relatives and enjoy a game of golf in the 2005 Thanksgiving Tournament. This was a chance to win a turkey and/or a ham - and I was really looking forward to the competition. Although I haven't been playing much or playing well recently, I was the defending champion in this tournament - and I saw no reason that I couldn't call upon heretofore untapped reserves to gut out a gutty victory. As defending champion, I played in the marquee foursome - beginning on hole #1.

My practice session was frightening. I hit several skulled chips into crowds on the putting green. Mutters of "Didn't he used to be club champion?" would have been heard by those with better hearing. My shoulder was also bothering me and my "death move" of dipping the right shoulder when I'm in a bunker was manifesting itself on other shots. I had zero expectations of playing well as I was clearly "off my game" - but resolved to try and see what I could do. But in positive news, I'd recently had my hair cut - so I was looking prim and proper.

Thanksgiving Tournament 2005:
1. 419(4): I hit a fair-to-middling hook into the left rough, but safe. From 175 yards out, I hit a good 5-iron to the middle of the green and two-putt from 20 feet. A solid par. EVEN through 1.
2. 398(4): I hit a good solid shot down the right side of the fairway leaving 140 in. From there I hit a smooth 8-iron to 2 feet. Birdie. 1-UNDER through 2.
3. 3. 362(4): I smash a cut driver down the pipe. From 110, I try to hit a soft PW but power it over the back of the green to a back pin. A tough chip - but I actually hit it to 6 feet and make the putt. 1-UNDER through 3.
4. 177(3): I hit a smooth 5-iron right at the hole. As this was a KP hole, I'm screaming "Get close!". My prayers were answered, as we discovered that the ball was only 2 inches from the cup! "That's good a ham!" says I. Birdie. 2-UNDER through 4.
5. 386(4): I hit a great smooth drive down the middle. My PW goes over the pin to about 40 feet. But I leave the putt 3 feet short and miss the par try. An unfortunate bogey! 1-UNDER through 5.
6. 434(4): I hit a beautiful driver down the pipe (into the wind). From 190, I hit a 4-iron right at the back hole location. The ball is only 7 feet, and I roll in the putt with a beautiful stroke. Birdie. 2-UNDER through 6.
7. 493(5): I hit a good drive but it doesn't hook back and winds up under a tree down the right side, but only 220 from the green. I hit a punch/cut 4-iron that rolls all the way up to 35 yards from the green. Then I chunk a LW to 45 feet but make par. 2-UNDER through 7.
8. 315(4): I hit a poor hook but it's OK. From the left rough I hit a LW from 87 yards (downwind) that comes up way way short - I should have hit a smooth SW. From 50 feet I leave the putt 3 feet short, then hit a horrible push that doesn't touch the hole. Another 3-putt bogey. 1-UNDER through 8.
9. 182(3): I hit a good 4-iron to 15 feet below the hole - but leave the birdie bid short. 1-UNDER through 9.
10. 351(4): I smash a driver down the middle, then hit a SW to 40 feet. My wedges are not being hit very close today. I two-putt for an uneventful par. 1-UNDER through 10.
11. 160(3): I hit a horrible 7-iron way to the right and way short. From the rough, I blade a SW through the green. I putt it from the fringe to 4 feet short. Having missed a couple of short putts already, I resolve to hit this one straight so I calmly take it back resolving not to break down in my stroke. I succeed - but the putt is hit with no power and is a full foot short (from 4 feet). I apologize to my playing partners for forcing them to watch that. Double Bogey. 1-OVER through 11.
12. 425(4): I hit my first bad drive - a snap hook into the left trees. I punch out to about 135. From there I hit a 9-iron to 6 feet but miss the downhill slider. Bogey. 2-OVER through 12.
13. 280(4): Now disillusioned with my wedge game, I consider driving the green downwind - but I play "smart" and hit a 5-iron down the fairway. This was actually too much club and I'm only 75 yards to the green. Normally I would just see the pin and think "Knock it close!" but now I am somehow visualizing the OB behind the green. I chunk a LW and almost put it in the water. From there I chunk it to 50 feet and two putt for a ridiculous bogey. 3-OVER through 13.
14. 400(4): I hit a beautiful drive down the middle leaving a PW in. I hit a pull to 55 feet and two putt for a par. 3-OVER through 14.
15. 454(5): Very upset with my poor wedge play, I decide that hitting this green in two is the best bet today. I try to cut a driver around the corner but I fail - going smoothly through the fairway into the trees - where I get a big kick the wrong way. Now dead, I wisely play it down the 16th fairway just short of the tee. I hit a beautiful PW right at the pin - I think it's going to be close - but it's long again - I'm in the back bunker only 20 feet from the pin. I hit an improbably good bunker shot to 6 feet - but miss the putt. Bogey. 4-OVER through 15.
16. 324(4): I hit a good 3-iron down the right side, then a LW slightly chunky just short of the green. I putt from only 35 feet down the hill to tap-in range. Par. 4-OVER through 16.
17. 163(3): I hit a woeful hook 6-iron onto the 15th tee. Faced with a difficult low downhill running chip through long rough, I decide to chunk a 9-iron short of the green. From 45 feet in the fringe, I roll it a full 20 feet past the hole and miss the comebacker. Another double bogey - and this one I know will cost me a turkey. 6-OVER through 17.
18. 388(4): I smash a brilliant drive down the middle, then hit a 9-iron to 10 feet. But I miss the putt (though it was a good effort). Par. 6-OVER through 18.
TOTAL: 6-OVER 76

The winning score was Jim Taylor with a 71 - edging out Don Woodland by one shot (Don bogeyed 18). The turkeys began at 74 - so I was stuck with just a KP ham this year.

But it was fun to be golfing again - and there were enough good moments that I am sure that I will be up to speed in no time. See you on the links!

Day 288: A Look At The New NHL

The obvious facts on the ground are that the new NHL is a success. Anyone who has watched a game this season can see that the rule changes have only improved things. This will be a truly exciting NHL season - I even enjoyed watching a bit of NYRangers vs. Montreal on the TV last night. Who would have guessed that hockey games could be exciting! The fans seem to agree so far - viewership is up and attendance in all but the worst US markets has been solid. Of course - things are still very early, so the jury is still out.

So what of the new NHL? Let's look at the rule changes, and see how they're working:
1) Removing the red line.
- Great! Two line passes are permitted - there have already been some excellent breakout chances - especially on the powerplay. A faster team with skilled players will benefit from this.
2) Reducing the goalie equipment size
- Great! True: a casual fan won't notice anything - but this can only help.
3) Clamping down on penalties (and actually sticking to it)
- Great! I just hope that the first person who whines about there being too many penalties is shot. If they call the game as they should, the players will surely adapt - leaving the old and slow to take lazy penalties until they are cut.
4) Expansion of the offensive zone (blue lines moved back towards centre).
- Great! With more room to set up the offence (especially on the power play) - there is more room for good players to make good plays. There will be more PP goals.
5) The new CBA?
- Some of the details aren't perfect - but it is way better than the old system. Calgary has a legitimate cup contender - and that wasn't happening in the old NHL. And the Rangers are still bad. A good GM can mop the floop from a bad GM - regardless of which city they work for. This is very good for a good organization like Vancouver.
6) Shootouts?
- I believe that shootouts are clearly wonderful. This should be a no-brainer but some still need convincing. They are very exciting - a pure test of shooter vs. goalie - a perfect way to end that tie game that couldn't be settled by any other means. I don't understand the curmudgeons who frown, wince, and pooh-pooh the shootout (you can read their thoughts everywhere in the hockey blogosphere). The shootout takes nothing away from the old game - it is just the tasty cheery on top of your sundae. It's like criticizing the sundae because of the cherry - it's stupid - how can you hate a cherry? Shootout bashers hate life, they hate themselves, and they will one day mumble and mutter themselves to death. They probably don't eat chocolate bars or drink liquor. Heck - they probably exercise frequently and enjoy a daily colonic because they think that's good for them. Yikes!

Day 287: The Sink Explodes

I came home from work a little later than usual yesterday - heck it was after 4PM (!), and sat down to watch a little Battle of Ontario hockey before heading out to GM Place to watch the Canucks Season Opener with RJ (as PWes had mysteriously scheduled a cooking class). After a few seconds of ignoring the increasingly-pained pleas from a now-non-birthday-cat Slippers, my soft heart relented and I went to the kitchen to fetch him and his larger brother some tuna. Upon arrival in what should be a clean place of foodstuffs and food preparation utensils, I was greeted by a fright: my sink had exploded! A thick black grime coated the sink, lay splattered on the walls, and had even dripped down onto the floor. It was highly unpleasant.


The Sink Explodes!

I have had problems with my kitchen sink backing up on me before - though nothing as catastrophic as this. I had the landlord come by in August to "fix" the problem by cleaning out some old gunk from the pipes. He pronounced it "fine" - and it had indeed been OK for the next month. Earlier this week, however, its familiar trick of sending grimy water up the wrong way had returned. This is unwanted - and I had asked the landlord to fix it a few days previously.

But fixed the sink was not.


Another look at the exploding sink

I quickly paged the landlord - but he was unavailable. With a couple of hours to kill, I decided to fix this good and proper: surely some liquid plumber was just the thing! So I went down to Shoppers and purchased some cleaning products - including fresh paper towels. After mopping up most of the grime, I poured the LP down the sink and waited for it to do its magic. Heeding the advice on the bottle, I eventually sent some hot water down to join it. As I watched the water spiralling down the drain, I thought "This is working!". I turned off the water and went to watch the game - at a slightly too loud setting.

A mere 10 minutes later, I realized that all was not well. The sink had marked the profferred water "Return to Sender" and was pouring it up the drain. Cold water (not the hot water I had sent down), was now streaming over the sink and coating the floor in a wet grimy puddle. "Aaaah!" shrieked I in a pitch that would make an 8-year-old girl feel quite macho.

I evaluated the continuing crisis, and decided that I really needed to empty the overflowing water down the bathtub. I grabbed my pot and ferried the excess liquid to a drain that could successfully empty. This proved the correct solution, but many a towel was soiled in a quixotic cleanup effort.

The landlord eventually arrived, grabbed his tools, and went to work on the actual pipes. He decided that the problem wasn't with me or my "cooking" - but it seemed that the people above me (who share my pipes) are sending all manner of evil things downwards - including tea leaves and a shock of black hair. Hopefully he has a word with them and encourages them to end these infernal cooking experiments.

So I hope that I have seen the last of this black goo. The only thick black paste I ever want to see will be spread on my toast. Hooray for marmite!

Day 286: And Now We Are Eight

It is a day of great celebration as my two cats celebrate their 8th birthday today.


Chance and Slippers enjoy a serene birthday.

Although they are "big cats", they angled for a birthday-sized helping of tuna - and this is what they got. But this was not enough! They polished it off and looked for more. I never give second helpings - but it was their birthday and the normal rules do not apply. The tin was banged; some plaintive meowing commenced, and then even more tuna was enjoyed.

Happy Birthday to Chance and Slippers!

Day 285: I Hate This Game!

It had been five long weeks since I last played golf, but I managed to get out to Northview Canal Course this Sunday. Golf is a great passion of mine - and with the latest reversal of fortune at work, I was keen to reacquaint myself with some of my favourite things. I'd played quality rounds over the summer, so I was keen to pick up right where I left off and have a super-fun successful day. It did not happen.

The problems seem to be psychological. With the unease of the past week at work, I have found myself not sleeping very well. Insomnia is a pretty bothersome beast - and is even worse when you don't actually have anything to get up for. This sleeping problem has led to catchup afternoon naps, a lingering mysterious unwellness, and a full disruption in my schedule. It culminated on Saturday night when I found myself unable to fall asleep before having to get up at 7AM! I knew this wasn't a good thing - but I ventured forth anyways. A little sun was just what I needed.

But no sun would come. It did not rain until late in the round, but it was cold, windy and damp throughout - a far cry from the summer conditions of my last rounds. Adjustments needed to be made: as a good drive that formerly went 265 was now going 240 - or even less.

The round started out with me chunking my second shot into an out-of-play water hazard and making a double-bogey. After adding a two-sand-shot/three-putt triple on #3, I was off to the races. My swing - poor at first - eventually settled down - but the scores did not improve. On #7, after a great drive, I chunked a SW, then chunked another SW, then chipped to 8 feet and missed for a double. On #8, I bladed a bunker shot to make an improbable bogey after being greenside in 2 on a par five. Add it all up and I had lucky 47 on the front nine.

The back nine would prove worse. After a bogey on 10 and pars on 11/12, I thought "Well at least I can score better on the back nine". But on #14, I chunked three shots in a row and made another double. I found myself 15-over with 3 holes to go. I resolved to gut it out and break 90 at least.

Number 16 at the Canal Course is a short par four with water down the left. I safely hit a 3-iron, but snap hooked it 40 yards into the drink. As my drop left me on the tee, I was happy to save double. Now I needed to par 17/18 for an 89. But #17 at the Canal is one of the more sinister par threes in existence: all carry - no green. I carried the water but left it in the bunker. Could I save par when I really needed it? No - I skulled the bunker shot 40 yards over the green deep into the water. After proceeding to the drop zone, I chunked another wedge and wound up with a quadruple bogey 7. An uneventful par on 18 left me with 93 - the highest score I have recorded in the last ten years. Wow - that was interesting.

Should I take this opportunity to quit the game, or just as a warning that I should really get some sleep?