Winter Concert

"Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt."

That's the oath (motto?) of the Special Olympics.  Or at least it was.  Go on their website, and it's not there.  So maybe it's not the oath (motto?) anymore.  But it was.  I have to say there is something that doesn't sit too well with ole' JJ about that oath (motto?).

I mean, doesn't it sound a little "ohhh, you're disabled! That's so terrible! But you are trying to do this sport anyways! You're so brave! Brings tears to my eyes that you can even get out of bed, you poor thing!" Condescending, I guess.

Nostalgia

That's Coldplay's video for Strawberry Swing.  Yes, it's super creative and original and Chris whatshisface is super cool and "dreamy" and Gwyneth Paltrow appears to be some sort of super entitled egomaniacal nutjob and blah blah blah.  But I don't want to talk about any of that!  In fact, don't even watch the video!  Or open another window on Gwyneth's "Goop" website to experience her nutjobbidity! (And no I am not going to link to Goop,  I am sure you can figure out how to get there.)  Just listen to the song1

This song has to be the most nostalgia inducing song I have ever heard.  Even more than "Cat's in the Cradle"! The Ugly Kid Joe version! Or "Night Moves" by Bob Seger.  Which song I actually don't find nostalgia-inducing at all, because its about how Bob's high school experience was all about driving around in his car and having sex with women, while JJ's high school experience involved pretty much all walking and awkward-soul-crushing-if a third party were to observe they would cringe-interaction with the opposite sex. 

Oh, but this song!  Takes me right back to childhood!  Time spent with family!  And what in particular?  Well, surprise surprise, something to do with strawberries.  Although not swings.

You ever go to one of these pick your own berry places?  I haven't in years. But when I was a young pup, My parents would gather the three of us up and head...North?...Maybe?...No idea, really.  Somewhere outside the city, anyways.

Sledding!

Hi Internet!  Sorry I've been out of touch!  Internet issues!  All solved now!  Thanks to Rogers! (Not thanks to Rogers.)

Ok! I didn't take this pic and its totally not Toronto but its so nice! Am I right? I'm right.

Well, a couple of Sundays ago was a beautiful day here in Hogtown.

Snow on the ground, sun in the sky. 

Lets go sledding!  Who wants to go? "Me dad!" "Me dad!"

Ok, lets go! "Come on, mama!"

A great hill just to the North of us.  Throw sleds in car and head over.  Boys so excited.  Good times!

The Gabe is first to go down.  Good run!  Phew! I was kind of nervous! Why, you might ask?

Well, when JJ was still just a young pup (i.e. 26 ish) he went "night skiing" with then girlfriend, Roxy.  What's night skiing?  Well, I guess I don't rightly know generally, but what it was this night was Roxane's friend's boyfriend's employer renting this ski hill for the evening.  There was no bar, but you could bring your own alcohol and drink it in the...chalet?...clubhouse?...whatever that building where you sit in is called. I am not much of a skier. ( no duh!)  Can you still do that these days?  I dunno.  In retrospect sounds a little liability inducing.  But that's the way they rolled!

And where is this ski hill?  Well, it's a little North of the 'Peg. "Springhill!"  I am not sure, but I think its like on a dried up riverbed? So the ski "hill" is actually just the slope down to a once existent river.  The ski lift?  It's actually a tow rope.  You just grab it and it pulls you up the hill.  So not exactly Blackcomb.   Not that I am complaining! I had never skied before!  And it was nighttime!  And we were drinking! We don't need to ski K2 here!

OK. Stage set.  We arrive and rent our skis.  The dude behind the counter asks us if we are novices. Yes we are.  "Ok, then I am going to recommend that you don't take poles, because it's easier as a beginner to ski without them." I have no idea whether this is true, it's just what the dude said.  Who am I, Steve Podborski?

Got our skis, no poles needed - let's hit the mountain!

There we are, the four of us.  Roxane, me, and her friend and boyfriend.  But who will go first?  Roxy, as was (doubtless still is) her nature says "I'll go first!"

She heads down the hill....  Look.  JJ doesn't know much about downhill skiing.  Virtually nothing, really.  But one thing JJ does know?  You don't go straight down the hill.  You gotta criss cross.  Roxane?  No criss cross.  Have you ever seen that "speed skiing" sport?  Where they head straight down the hill, trying to go as fast as possible?  Well, I hadn't at the time, but when I later did, I said to myself : "I have seen this before."

Roxane is heading straight down the hill.  Flying down the hill.  Am amazed at how fast!  Gets to the bottom of the hill.... You know those movies where an asteroid hits the earth? Well, same thing.  SKA-DOOSH!!!! Can't even see her. Completely obscured by a massive cloud of snow.  The three of us still at the top pull our eyes from the carnage to look at each other wide-eyed, then hurry down the hill.  Cautiously.  Criss cross!

"Roxane! Are you ok?" 

"Yes, I am fine!  Just a good wipe out!"  Phew.  That's lucky!  Let's head over to the tow rope and go again!

We are making our way towards the tow rope, when Roxane turns to me and says "oh, wait, I have to go back, I forgot my poles."

"Honey, we didn't get poles remember? Because we're beginners?"

"Oh, right, right."

Ok.  No problem.  Get to the top of the hill.  "Has anyone seen my poles?"

"Honey, we didn't get poles remember? Because we're beginners?"

"Oh, right, of course.  But where are my poles? And why does my shoulder hurt so much?"  Huh boy, this ain't good. 

"Hon, why don't we maybe head over to the chalet for a little bit?"

Now, by now, Internet, you have probably figured out what was going on.  Yes, she was concussed.  And had a sprained shoulder.  But don't worry! We did everything properly.  By which I mean we continued to drink and ski for the next couple of hours, then went home and went to bed.  Textbook treatment, really.

Anyways, the point is, the first trip down the hill can be treacherous!

Back to now!

Look Momma! No tears! Yet!

Gabe is at the bottom of the hill, staring up at us.  Now it's momma and E-man's turn on the two person inflatable double innertube-y thing we bought last year but didn't get a chance to use. 

Push off and start sliding! So much fun! The tube turns sideways. Like some sort of bizarre gravitational pull, the sled starts to alter course.  Directly towards the Gabe. 

Up at the top of the hill, time slows down to a crawl, the sled is moving in slow-motion.
"Gabriel! Get out of the way! Move!"

The Gabe:

"Momma! Steer or something!"

Momma:

SKA-DOOSH!

Note: Not a picture of the actual collision.  Artist's rendering.

I initially thought I saw skulls colliding.  Back to concussion city!  Sprint down the hill to survey the carnage.  But no! Everyone still conscious!  Only a slightly bleeding nose for the Gabe.  Plus tears.  And strained hand ligaments for momma with a hand that is about twice the size as it is normally.  E-man?  "Let's go again! Let's go again!"

But everyone recovers! Let's keep going!  The inflatable makes it down about two more times before mysteriously puncturing itself and completely deflating.  I blame Loblaws. 

So we have to share a sled.  "But it's my turn! Wahhhh!"

E-man: "Cheese!" G-man: "I wish you would get off my sled, E-man."

Then E-man's leg's get tired. "Carry me up the hill!!" 

"Oh, you're tired?  Well, maybe we should go."

 "But I don't wannnnaaaa goooooo.....!!!  Wahhhh!!!"

Later, after we drag them away: "So.  Did you guys have a good time sledding?"

"Yeah dad. That was the best time ever! When can we do it again!?"

Guest Blogger: Gabriel! - How I like my new school!

Well, JJ's talked about the trials and tribulations of navigating the school system with his favourite eight year old here, here and here, where it ended with us switching to a new school and a special class designed for kids with Asperger's and autism.  Thought maybe an update was in order.  But why should I tell you about it when you can hear it from the horse's mouth, so to speak!  So, without further adieu, please welcome guest blogger...Gabriel!

Hi! I like the city in this picture, I have no idea why though.  It's true, even though its in the United States and I'm in Canada.

My School is Kensington.  It's a really good school because you learn a lot in there.  I am very happy to go there.  I had lots of friends at Humewood but I am learning better at Kensington.  My favourite thing about Kensington is that we get free choice.  That's when you play.  It's like free time.  What else do I like? Mostly everything.  And swimming's really good too. (Editor's note: the school has a pool! I know, right?  They go swimming twice a week!) 

Lookit! I'm a sock puppet.  (Editor's note: Sorry, we got distracted. Looks like that's it.)

GJ (and JJ) out!!

The Legend of Limpy

What up? Mind if I poop?

Warning: if you love mice, this entry may not be for you!

Hellloo! Internet!  Been a few days.  Been thinking about mice.  And my encounters with the little critters.  For instance!  The wife's aunt's cottage.  We were up there one summer and the place was INFESTED with mice.  You would see (and hear!) them running across the floor all the time.  And their little toxic poopoos were everywhere.  We head to the local store and buy the mouse traps they have...the old style wooden ones, with the wire snapper.  We set them up.  Smear peanut butter on the trigger.  We're set. Go to bed.  Wake up the next day and check the traps.  No PB, no mouse.  Little effers.  Off to Riverton to get more effective soltion.  We pick up these plastic traps.  They look less lethal than the wire and wood ones, but let's give them a try.  Go back to the cabin and set them up.  Not five minutes later..."snap!" Not five minutes after that..."snap!" And so on, and so on and so on! It's a mouse massacre!

Ottawa! Suburbs!

You're under arrest.

So a couple of weeks ago the fam and I headed to the nation's capital.  Besides attending Doc Zhivago's going away party, we also headed to Barhaven, a suburb of Ottawa, to hang out with an old friend of the wife's, her husband and their kids.  (Quick side note: their last name is Heffernan.  We were over at their place in Winnipeg a few years ago, while we were both living there.  I called her husband "Doug".  Which is not his name.  But does happen to be the name of the main character on "The King of Queens".  Doh. I wondered at the time why he looked at me quizically. If you ever read this, Rob...Sorry, man.)

Anyhoo, they invite another couple over.  The husband is an RCMP fella.  Very nice guy.  Didn't try to pepper spray us once!  Just kidding.  Just a little leftist humour there.  He was really nice.  Pretty boring job, though.  He teaches other officers how to fight terrorists. 

Anyhoo (again with the anyhoo! which reminds me, a partner was reviewing something I wrote the other day and said something I wrote was a bit "colloquial"! So I said "what?, it's not like said "ain't"! Or that's what I would have said if I had had any idea of what colloquial meant at the time - "informal!")

The point of my story.  So I say: "did you know any of those poor Mounties that were killed in Mayerthorpe?"

"I knew one....but I was stationed there when I started.  And I knew murderer guy.  He was one bad dude.  His brother charged him with something.  In the court room he attacked his brother so I had to choke him out in my red serge."

So I was like "I totally know what that's like.  The other day I was searching through this document to make sure I had covered all the defined terms...." 

Ok, I didn't really say that. But I might have if I had thought of it then instead of a couple of hours later.  Duh.

Later the bad guy bear sprayed his brother in a bar in front of the whole town.  No witnesses. 

Bonus Post! How I Spent my Summer Vacation: The Kia Parts!

Ok,

A couple of other awesome things happened during the summer "vacation".  The car above is ours.  Well, it's the same kind, colour and year, anyways.  This one looks a lot better than ours does.  Why is that? Two reasons.

As I pointed out in my last post, while in Winnipeg this summer, we stayed at the mother-in-law's.  The place has an undergroud parking garage where we parked while we there.  I had to go to work a couple of the days right after we arrived and one of these days Janelle and the boys came to pick me up.  I hop in the car.  But the wife is acting kinda weird.  "Is everything ok?" I ask.

"Yes."

Luckily for me, Tattle-Dum and Tattle-Dee are sitting in the back seat.  "Daaad, Mommy crashed the car!"

"Hon?" I say...

Yes, turns out  one of the cement pillars in the unfamiliar parking garage had jumped out at the last second and scraped the side of the car. 

Which sucks major ass.

"It's ok, hon," the magnanimous JJ says. "could have happened to anyone.."  Foreshadowing!

Smash cut to JJ off to Arborg with newly installed donut.  Hearing this faint weird noise.  "Tink-bonk.  Tink-tink-bonk. Tink-bonk."

What could it be?  Well, probably has something to do with the gravel road.  Probably nothing.  Pull on to the highway, and it's more noticable now.  Stop beside the highway in the dark.  Walk around the car.  What's there?

Well, to tell you that, I gotta tell you this:

The spare tire on the Kia is beneath the car.  There is a cable with a metal stopper thingy on the end.  To get the donut, you let the cable out.  Then turn the stopper thingy and the donut comes off.  Then you just retract the cable.  Easy peasy.  But take JJ's advice, don't forget to retract the cable. 

Yes, I had forgotten to retract the cable.  The metal stopper thingy had been dragging on the ground, ricocheting up and smashing into my rear bumper.  Over and over again.  The damage?  The bumper is sort of ok, but looks like it has been repeatedly bitten by a squirrel. 

Which sucks major ass. 

So that's the story of the Kia's summer vacation.

Vroom! Vroom!