Stress & Distractions

Lately, I've found my life settling into some sense of normalcy for the first time since my time on active duty in the Army which began in 2004.  That is, I've got steady work and a stable home with little likelihood of seismic, life-altering events in the future.  And gradually, I've begun to take better care of myself, eating better, drinking less, exercising more regularly.  Recently, it even occurred to me that I should resume my meditation practice.

This shift revealed one of the chief coping mechanisms I employed during that stressful period--distraction.  I got through active duty by consuming too much bourbon, Playstation 2, and Reno 911.



Immediately after Katrina, I found myself, while completely exhausted, nonetheless staying up to all hours, refusing to sleep, and learned of other New Orleanians doing the same.  And in recent years, my once voracious news consumption has been replaced with a voracious comedy consumption.  The news itself seems like a joke, jokes with many set-ups but the same punchline--The wealthy and powerful are fucking over everyone else.  Now if I'm going to consume jokes, I prefer ones that will make me laugh over those that will make me cry.  Of course, what all of these practices have in common is a desire to avoid reality, to give myself something to think about that is immediately more pleasurable than the horrible circumstances around me.

Over the last few weeks, I've found myself once again in stressful circumstances at work.  There, we're on a tight schedule to turn an exercise in research and development into something that is operational and sell-able. So when I initiated the next task at hand, I thought it would take me a day.  One day became one week then two and three, and gradually, I felt myself move from frustration to confusion and then panic.  And as my stress escalated, I found my good habits eroded by those bad ones.  My distraction low point has got to be one of two events--seeing the Green Lantern movie or playing the old Atari game Adventure.  (Man, were those Atari games shitty.)

Of course, I have fixed the problem at work which is why I'm taking time to write this.  But what's interesting to notice is how, when difficult circumstances arise, those difficult circumstances can overwhelm the entirety of my reality.  In this case, while work was proving frustrating, the rest of my life was fine; it just didn't feel fine.

On the local front, Nicole and I are experiencing the bizarre local weather of June--almost constant, pea-soup-like fog with temperatures never getting higher than 12 C/ 54 F.  I'm not thrilled with it, but I tell myself at least I'm not sweating my ass off.  Nicole has a bigger problem with it.

But speaking of sweating our asses off, we will be in New Orleans from July 22-30.  We hope to see you then.

A Great Weekend

Last weekend was a great one, and this one's not bad either, because it's 50% longer than the typical weekend.  But back to last weekend . . .

In my last post, you heard me talk about the poker game at the Rose and Thistle and how I'd found it frustrating at times.

The Rose and Thistle, where they believe in double awnings.

Last Saturday, I went back, determined to play looser.  Basically that meant hanging around in nominal hands (ie, having maybe a low pair), while others are raising like crazy.  Turns out I won the game and $280.  That is the single greatest victory of my life!  OK, not really, but at the time it did feel pretty damn good.

Actually, strictly speaking, I didn't win the game either.  Another player (Jeff, my nemesis) and I were in the top two.  The guy running the game gave us the option to simply split the pot.  While I would have liked to have played heads up, I took the option, because that evening I had to hurry off to the Ferryland, Newfoundland.

Our new friends, Michael and Donna, had invited us to attend a live music event in Ferryland and then spend the night in their cabin.

Michael's an interesting guy.  Like me, he grew up in the southern US (White House, Texas) and married a Canadian girl.  He's also very liberal, so we've had a lot interesting discussions about Southern culture and whatnot.  Another wrinkle, though, is that he's also British.  His parents are from the UK, and their work took them all over the world.

That night in Ferryland was nice.  There was a lot of nice music, the place was packed, and people were dancing and drinking like there's no tomorrow.  We left at midnight, and there were still two more acts to come.

We spent the night in Michael and Donna's quaint cabin with the wood-fired stove and got up the next morning and went for a walk.  Below you'll see a slideshow of the gorgeous countryside.

Speaking of good times, Nicole and I sent off the documents on the lawsuit after the house fire.  As most of you guessed, the settlement amount for indeed for less than two million, even less than one million.  The settlement was in the $10-20,000 range.  Certainly, that's a not a trivial amount of money.  But compared to the fact that the company destroyed my home, it doesn't quite seem like adequate compensation.  But then that's why lawyers are so demonized in the US, to make it almost impossible for regular people to gain adequate compensation when injured by the wealthy and powerful.  Mission accomplished!  (Note:  the wealthy and powerful always use lawyers.)

And in other good news, I got word at work that I'm going to be promoted.  

Catching Up

The demand for a new blog entry has become overwhelming, so here I am, scribbling just to please you, dear reader.

Basically, for the past two months, it's been a bit of a grind--a lot of get up, go to work, chill out a bit, rinse, repeat.  That's OK, but it's a quick way to burn through two months.

One of the ways I've been chilling out is playing poker at a local pub.  I think of myself as a decent player.  I played regularly in Texas and continue to on-line, not gambling in either case, just for fun.  Here, though, I find the style of play . . . different.  A lot of wild bets are being laid.  The last time I played I came as close as I ever have to an outburst in a game ("outburst," ahem, in a bad way).  It's been a few weeks since then.  I might try again today.  I have made some friends and acquaintances through the game, and that was the main point.

I did miss the wedding of my good friend Matt to Veronica, a fact I'm not happy about.

Photographer

Nicole and I were looking forward to it a great deal, an opportunity to visit friends and family in New Orleans and beat the snow for a while.  But when the time came, money was simply too tight.  Ah well.

Speaking of snow, my slideshow of St. John's Winter Wonderland should be working here.  (And mine of the Battlestar Galactica exhibit is here.)   There's a lot less snow in St. John's now.

Yesterday evening, on my way out of work, I noticed this scene from my office building.  The snow in the sun had largely melted, while the remaining snow matched the evening shadow of our building.  One of our office administrators got a big chuckle out of my interest in this, but being from the South, I'd just assumed that snow melted uniformly as it warmed up.  That's how it does melt when there is snow in the South.  But having spent several winters in Canada, I can tell you that snow in shady spots can linger for months.  (I find it interesting.)

I'll also tell you that we have a third cat, Mouse.

Mouse, on the left, relaxing with Ella.

Generally, I'd never intended to have a third cat.  But basically, this little street urchin ingratiated herself with Nicole (an easy task) while I was in Texas for a semester.  That and none of my Toronto friends would adopt her, especially John and Ann.  She's a sweet cat, though, and I'm glad she's no longer on the street; she's the luckiest stray cat in Ontario.  She's a grey tabby like Oleanna, but they're very different cats.  Oleanna was long and sleak; Mouse is short and stubby, a furry little bowling ball.  Oleanna was very affectionate; Mouse is still a bit skiddish with that.

That link for Oleanna is to a blog entry about the anniversary of my house fire.  Apropos of that, I can tell you that just last week we reached a settlement against the company whose product started the fire.  I'll blog more about that later.  For now, I welcome your guesses about the size of the settlement:
Free Website Poll

The soundtrack for this blog entry was my friend Alex's nice, mellow music available here.

My Trip Out West

A couple of months ago, I was thinking about the people we know living out west.  Lisa and Elana had just moved to Vancouver.  My friend Tony had been in Seattle for a few years, as had Phil and Morgan.  I thought it'd be nice to have a vacation out there and visit both cities and all those friends.  Then, a few days later, my boss told me about the American Meteorological Society conference in Seattle and that we ought to go, and that was that.

One thing for sure, I didn't want to fly directly to Seattle because I didn't want to expose myself to the TSA's abusive practices.  My plan was to fly to Vancouver on Friday, hang out with Lisa and Elana over the weekend, and then take the train down to Seattle.  Unfortunately on Thursday afternoon I got a call that Lisa's mother was about to pass away, and that they had to hurry back to Toronto.

I was able to reschedule my flight to Sunday morning--early Sunday morning.

The view from my first flight on the trip.

But that also meant I would do all the traveling--from St. John's to Vancouver then down to Seattle--in one day, 22 hours of straight travel.  Several things made the trip easier, though.  I made the trip across the continent in only two flights.  I had exit-row or bulkhead seats for all of my flights.  And on the plane, I was able to watch most of the NFC championship game.  It was a long day, but it could have been worse.

In Seattle, I only had one chance to get together with Phil.  Unfortunately on that day, he injured his eye pruning some grape vines.  (What a wino!)  So we weren't able to get together.

I wasn't able to get together with Morgan either; she was sick that week.  When I told her where I was staying, she said my hotel was right in her neighborhood.  I thought it might have been a few blocks to a few miles from her place.  No, when I stepped out of the hotel and looked to my right, hers was the first building I saw.  I walked by it several times a day, yet strangely we didn't get together.  Ah well.

I was able to get together with Tony, though.

Tony, after I said, "Smile."

On Tuesday, he took me to a bar with 100+ beers on tap.  Then Thursday night, we went to the Science Fiction Museum, where they had a Battlestar Galactica exhibit.  You can see my slide show of the exhibit here.

The Sci Fi Museum's exhibit of the Tree of Life from Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain, a film I highly recommend.

After the museum, we did some old-school bar hopping in a cool Seattle neighborhood whose name escapes me due to the old-school bar hopping.  We had a great visit.

In Seattle, a single of Bailey's in a regular tumbler.

(Let me now point out how impressed I was by the generosity of the Seattle bartenders.  Having grown accustomed to Canadian pours, I ordered a double whiskey; I got a full tumbler of booze.  Canucks, I love ya, but this is one area the Americans have over you.)

The view from the train.

As I've documented, the next morning did not go well, yet that had little to do with the night before.  Fortunately, Elana was able to pick me up at the train station.  Sadly, Lisa's mother did pass away that week, and she'd stayed in Toronto to attend to family business.  Elana and I had a great visit, though, and it did involve alcohol.  It also involved an early flight the next morning as well.

BLOG FLASHBACK:  Previously on UITGWN, I described how the circumstances precipitating my marrying Nicole had involved a trip to Vancouver and Seattle.  While in Vancouver, Nicole and I had brunched in Havana, a cool restaurant.  So when Elana and I were bar-hopping in her cool neighborhood, I was shocked to see and recognize the place, which I'd all but forgotten.  "I've eaten there," I said, which surprised her because she'd just learned about the place.  At the end of the evening, I dragged her there for dessert, which means she watched me eat creme brulee' as we each had one last white Russian.

Havana.

After the border incident on my trip with Nicole, I had returned to Seattle without her and went to a neighborhood bar to drink my sorrows away.  The next morning, I woke up late, still a little drunk, and had to speed through the Seattle rain to return my rental car and make my flight.  Last week as I walked to the Sci Fi Museum, I walked past the place, the 5 Point Bar.

5 Point, a friendly bar worth photographing but not worth crossing the street for.

It was odd to have this trip out west echoing that momentous trip from several years ago.  END FLASHBACK


So on this trip, I saw 40% of the friends I'd planned on.  That's less than I'd hoped, but I enjoyed all my time with them.  I noticed, too, how booze figured prominently in this blog entry.  That's telling me something . . . my friends like to drink too much.


Now I will leave you with a slideshow of the winter wonderland that's befallen St. John's.  Click here.

My shitty morning

This morning, I:

• Realized I'd left the book I bought last night in Tony's car, which is my fault.  But when I tried to call him, for the first time ever, got his answering machine.
• Tried to check into tomorrow's flight on West Jet and got jerked around by the web site, constantly getting conflicting information.  A simple web site outage would have been disappointing; that was infuriating.  I still don't know if I'm checked in.
• Had the worst taxi ride of my life.  Here's how you know your taxi driver sucks--he sits for a five count once the light has turned green and cars have passed him.  The guy was argumentative, slow, and took an absurd route to my two-mile destination.  Thank Christ I had the sense not to tip him.  My parting words to him were "Fuck off."
• Because I was flustered and running late, I missed that Tony had tried to bring my book to the train station.  (What a mensch.)
• Found a large, obnoxious party jamming up the boarding of the train.
• Once uderway, I bought breakfast at the dining car and tried to mellow out.  Once settled back in my seat, I discovered I'd failed to get a spoon and had to march back to the dining car for one.
• I started playing on-line poker and hit a royal flush, the best hand possible.  I've played thousands of games and never even seen a royal flush before, and this morning I got one.  Then shortly after that, I got disconnected from the game and lost.
• In Everett, Washington, the train picked up three, cap-wearing douchebags who've sat across the aisle from me.  They showed up with a case of Coors Light in the train; it was 8:30 am.  Now I get to hear their fat-girl jokes and crying-stripper stories. 

Douchebags on a train, the right-most one being the douchiest.

And I have yet to go through Canadian customs.

Update:  Douchebag #1 cracks his first Coors at 9:52 am.

Update #2:  I guess I jinxed myself with my Canadian customs comment, because naturally, I got pulled aside coming through customs, even though I'm a Canadian permanent resident, have a Canadian driver's license, and a Canadian health card.

I'm now mellowing out at Lisa and Elana's.

A Great Time in Toronto

So after visiting Nicole's parents in Midland, we went down to Toronto for a few days.  While living in the city was a bit of a grind, we had a great time, simply hanging out there and visiting friends.

First we went to our favorite Toronto bar, the Communist's Daughter, to hang out with our favorite bartender, Michael Louis Johnson.

The Communist's Daughter, which was once Narare' Snack Bar

There, as always, we got into an interesting discussion, during which I met a visiting journalist Michael DiGregorio.  DiGregorio was there to write about the death of a local bicyclist and cycling in the city in general, a subject near and dear to my heart.  So we had a fascinating conversation.  He told me about a recent documentary, Scapper, he did which I'd also love to see.  Here's the trailer for it.


The next day, Nicole and I bounced around Queen Street West during the day and saw "Fair Game" at the Bloor that night.

On our last day in Toronto, we were able visit with several of our friends--John and Ann, Derek and Linda--as we had a delicious meal at le Papillion.  Linda's brother, Jed, was there, and later our friend Michelle joined us at Derek's house.  Here's a typical segment of our goings-on there:


As is always the case with such visits, we didn't get to see everyone we would have liked.  So if we missed you, we hope to catch you next time.  And we found that, refreshingly, Toronto is a much easier city to visit than it is to live in. 

This time off has been good; contrary to my intentions, I haven't touched my worked since Christmas Eve.  But tomorrow, I go back to work, and I'm looking forward to it.

Seasons

This week my maternal grandmother, Mary Alice McCormick, passed away.   She was 86, had been in decline for a year, and went peacefully in her sleep with my mother and uncle beside her.

4 Generations:  Mary Alice, my mother Kathy, my sister Anna, and my niece Grace.

As I think about her life, I realize how I've seen her differently at different phases of my life.  As a child, she was, naturally, revered.  Now I realize how my tee-totaling, Southern-Baptist parents projected their values on to my perception of my grandparents; as a child, I assumed they were "good" Baptists, too.  Only later, did I realize that all of my grandparents, like most from south Louisiana, liked to drink; Maw Maw was also into ballroom dancing.  As a teenager, Maw Maw was a familial novelty.  And as an adult, I started to know her as an adult, and that's when the trouble started.

Maw Maw had a difficult personality.  She would frequently foist unwanted and unnecessary advice on you and do so in less than diplomatic terms.  She was often an argument waiting to happen, and as an adult, that turned me off.  Over time, though, I gained some insight into some of the psychological dynamics behind the behavior I didn't like.  And right now, I'm less inclined to think about some of the things that she said and more about some of the things she did.  Though she never had much (She married my good-for-nothing grandfather.), she was reliably generous and hospitable.  She loved books, and she was a good storyteller.  She will be missed.

The delicious pecan pie Nicole made for Thanksgiving.

It was Thanksgiving in the U.S.  In Canada, that occurs in early October.  Nevertheless, Nicole prepared a traditional tofurky feast, and afterward we watched the Saints almost give a game away to the Dallas Cowboys.  I was telling a co-worker that I prefer the U.S.'s Thanksgiving to Canada's.  There the end-of-year holidays begin with the light and fun Halloween.  A month later, the holidays escalate with Thanksgiving.  A month later, the holidays crescendo with Christmas, followed by a coda at New Year's.  Of course in New Orleans, there's Twelfth Night, too.  I thoroughly enjoyed the Thanksgiving here, and when I brought my co-workers half of Nicole's pecan pie, they enjoyed it, too.

Catch All

I've been really busy at work these last two weeks, though I'm glad to have a productive task to give myself to.  I've been expanding the capabilities of an existing computer program, which is a living example of every bad programming practice.  At one point, I needed a break and went to see "The Social Network" about the founding of facebook and got to watch the fictionalized Mark Zuckerberg programming away.  I identified with him completely.  Though of course by the end of the movie, he ends up a billionaire, and I am not one.   Though I do have more friends than he did at the end of the movie (none).  So I'd say I'm richer than he is.  (And yes, that means you can expect me to ask you for a loan soon.)  Nevertheless like Zuckerberg, I've neglected other aspects of my life (including this blog), and I've got to correct that.

I'd intended to offer a slide show of St. John's, but that's not going to happen tonight.  When asked what St. John's is like, I have to say "Ireland."  And I say that without having spent one second in Ireland.  But from what I've seen they're quite similar--green rolling hills over rocky terrain jutting out into the Atlantic.  St. John's is actually closer to Ireland  than it is to New Orleans.  But I guess the clincher is that the local accent is a real, full-on brogue.  (It is not the Canadian accent, eh.)  I'm constantly asked about my accent, and I think My accent?!  Have you listened to yourself?

Just the other evening, I was leaving a grocery store when a local guy ask me for money.  I gave him some change, and he asked if I had time for a joke.  Sure.  An old man . . . and after that he lost me.  His voice became just a low, ripple of rolly's, lolly's, holly's. So as I stood there, looking at him, I wondered how his face got so damn freckled this far north, and then I realized--out on the sea, fishing.  About that time, he reached the punchline.  I knew because he showed me his god-awful teeth in a big grin.  I gave him a convincing laugh and a nod and went on my way.

We're married!

Most of you know that Nicole and I got married.  Though there's some of you who don't, but now you do.  However, many of you don't know that this November we'll celebrate our fourth anniversary.

So here's the story.  Way back in 2006, in the post-Katrina summer, Nicole and I went on our first date to hear Kermit Ruffins at Vaughn's.  (If you've been watching the Treme, you're familiar with the act.  Actually, Kermit and his music figure prominently in this video.)

I found aspects of post-Katrina New Orleans rather romantic; things were starting over and just being there felt like an act of defiance.  I likened it to living in post-WWII Paris.  So naturally, we fell in love.

Our relationship was going great, when we decided to take a vacation to Vancouver in November.  But then,  Nicole wasn't allowed back in the US, because her papers weren't in order.  A week later, she was given a visa solely for the purpose of getting her van and belongings back into Canada.  The visa would expire in a matter of days, and then she'd have to remain in Canada indefinitely.

Well at that point, I'd had five straight months of her hot lovin'.  There was no way in hell I was letting my Canuck cookie out of my clutches.  So the next day, we went to the Gretna courthouse, eloped, and told Immigration to suck it.

So why'd it take so long for you to hear about it?  Well, at first, it was our secret, which made it all the more romantic.  We hadn't been together that long, and while we definitely wanted to continue our relationship, we weren't ready to publicly wear the "married couple" label.  Then after that, of course, we had the house fire and were completely distracted by that.  And the truth is the period after that has been a difficult one for each of us as well as our relationship.  There never seemed to be the "right" time.

But now that we're starting over again in St. John's, I hope that our lives and relationship are entering a happier phase.  And I'm happy to have Nicole in my life.

The Move

As I've stated, I felt bad that I couldn't help Nicole with the move out of Toronto.  So she and her 70+-year-old parents were left to load up a 14-foot U-Haul truck on their own.  (On the other hand, I told Nicole to hire movers, but she said was too busy to get around to it.  I say she was too busy not to.)  Some twelve exhausting hours later, they got the truck loaded.  Or so I thought.

When I called her around ten the next morning to see how their drive was going, they were still loading things.  But by about 10:30, they did depart.  Unfortunately, somewhere near the Ontario-Quebec border, a trucker dozed off and rammed his truck into a bridge over the main highway.  The trucker was unhurt, but his truck exploded.  More to the point, traffic was stopped for hours.  Nicole and her parents ended up stranded in a truckstop, whereupon learning the cause of the hold-up, Nicole proceeded to mock the incompetence of the said driver (in a truckstop).  They didn't make it to Montreal as they'd planned. 

Meanwhile, as I stated, Newfoundland was shit-hammered by Hurricane Igor.  No it does not compare to Hurricane Katrina.  But it was serious.  One man was killed.  Lots of homes were flooded, and more roads were washed out.  I was without power for two days.  And I also got my first direct exposure to hurricane-force winds, learning firsthand of the phenomenon "stinging rain."  As I told my co-workers, "In Louisiana, we stay home when a hurricane hits."

But the effects of Igor weren't done with us.  When Nicole and her parents arrived at North Sydney, Nova Scotia, they found the ferry--the last of the season that goes directly to St. John's--getting filled with military personnel and their heavy equipment.  They were going to assist with the post-hurricane clean-up, and it was looking like, because of that, our U-Haul wouldn't make it on.  Fortunately, Nicole's mother, Maria, was on the scene.  She's a little, septuagenarian with a thick German accent, and when she sets her mind to something, it's hard to say "no" to her.  She spoke to three different ferry personnel before getting assured the U-Haul would be included.

The ferry ride was 16 hours.  Fortunately, Nicole and her parents had their own cabin.  But the cats were left in the cabin of the cars.  And it freaked them out pretty good.  Ella spent the whole trip under the passenger's seat.

Fortunately, though, they arrived Saturday afternoon.  And the next day, we unloaded the U-Haul.  That is, I hired movers.  Best $169 I ever spent.

It's back, baby!

With this new chapter in my life, I'm reviving this blog, "Up in the Great White North."  Perhaps that's because, having moved to St. John's, Newfoundland, I feel like I'm much more "up in" the great white North.  To me, St. John's is a more exotic location than Toronto as well, one that prompts reflection.

Downtown St. John's

 Generally, I feel great about where I am right now.  St. John's is the oldest English-speaking city in North America, a charming port city overlooking the Atlantic.  It's got a lot to offer in terms night life, theater, and music, and once Nicole arrives here, I look forward to it exploring it with her.  It's also got a small geographical footprint making it very walkable and bike-able, and the people here are friendly.  I'll have more to say about it throughout the course of this blog.  Nicole and I would welcome any visitors here.

Water Street in downtown.

I also like my new job.  The work is challenging, but such aspirations only hone my skills.  And I get along great with my co-workers.  It's a great environment.

The trip here was interesting, too.  It took me through Quebec and the Atlantic provinces, on to an 8-hour overnight ferry ride.  I was warned that north of Quebec City no one speaks English.  Naturally, it was well north of the city that my car gave me trouble.   And when the CAA truck pulled up, the first thing the driver said was, "I don't speak English.  Do you speak French?"  I had to shake my head.  But he helped me get the car started to my great relief, and I happily gave him a $10 tip.  (Contrary to a lot rumors, I found the Quebecois pretty friendly.)  Once I landed on Newfoundland, I immediately saw a moose.  (In Newfoundland, moose out number people and are involved in a lot of serious car accidents.)  Fortunately, it was beside the road and not looming over it.

And now, I must reflect on my car which got me here.  Arriving here in St. John's, the Firebird has completed a 3,300 mile trip from New Orleans.  The car's 42 years old.  It's got an engine that's quite historic and rare, only manufactured for two years.  That is, it was only manufactured for two years because back in the day the engine was a mechanical disaster, "the Temple of Doom" my mechanic called it.  But Eddie, that same mechanic, re-built the engine and clearly did a hell of a job.  And despite the rat-a-tat-tat of its overhead cam, it runs like a top.  I'd like to call Eddie and tell him how far his work has taken me, but sadly his excellent shop didn't survive Katrina.  Also, this 42 year old muscle car gets 20 miles per gallon on the highway!  There are far too many modern cars that can't match that.  So here's to Eddie and Francis who took such good care of my sweet ride!

Integral Theory

Recently, I read this interview of Ken Wilber and found it fascinating. If you have a philosophical inclination, I highly recommend considering it.

Wilber is the founder of integral theory, which is his attempt to make sense of our disparate bodies of knowledge. With integral theory, he offers a model about how many fields, from physics to biology to psychology and spirituality, relate and have meaning for our lives. This appeals to me. So I read a primer on his theory The Integral Vision. Now I'm reading Sex, Ecology, Spirituality: the Spirit of Evolution, which is an exhaustive examination of this subject. Maybe you'd like this, too.

Nika Art Glass

Nicole and I have just updated her web site, NikaArtGlass.com. Check it out.

Resumption

Yesterday, Nicole began blowing glass. She's started a four-month residency at the Living Arts Centre. I'm glad she's back into it, and she is, too. So, yesterday, I took the train out to the studio to meet her at the end of her shift. From there, we went to pick-up her parents who were returning from Spain after being away for six months. They were happy to see us, and it was nice to see them, too. They've been very helpful to us. Today, I also pick up my computer which has been in the shop for a week. We've been sharing Nicole's tired, old mac, and that's been rough sledding.

What's Going On?

Yesterday, after I posted about BSG, I looked over my recent postings and thouht it was kind of pathetic. All of my recent posts have largely been about the media, with embedded clips. There hasn't been a lot of writing about what's going on with me. THAT ALL CHANGES TODAY!

So what's been going on? Not much.

OK, that's not good writing. Honestly, I find myself really bored, which might explain why I consume so much media and post about it. Since I arrived in Canada, I'd looked forward to exploring Toronto. But the weather really inhibitied that. Sunday I found out this winter we were 8 inches (i.e., not much at all) from breaking the record for all-time snow fall. With that kind of weather, you really don't even feel like leaving the house, so I did so as little as possible. Last week, it rained continuously for two days--high's in the low 40's, continuous rain; I'd just as soon take the 8 inches of snow. This week looks like the first to offer some decent weather--still cold, but at least sunny.

Something else has restricted my exploration of the city--the cost of getting around. I do live in the city, but in a neighborhood a bit more family oriented than I'd like. I'd compare it to the Carrollton area near S. Claiborne. Public transit is good and readily available, but it's pretty darn expensive--$2.75, $2.25 if you buy tokens in advance. Compare that to $2 in New York (which is a vastly better system), and $1.25 in New Orleans and that cost starts to add up. All of the city is set up so there's practically no where you can park without paying about $4 for it. The parking meters here are expensive, run until 9 pm, and are rigorously enforced. Having to shell out $4-5 every time you go somewhere gets old. This week, I've got to get a bike.

I have found some gems, though. Actually, Nicole found them. The Cameron House is a great neighborhood bar (another neighborhood) not falling into one of the two types of bars commonly found in Toronto, a pub or some swank, mod club. It's got a creative flare and interesting history. Essentially, it feels like a bar in New Orleans. Sunday night I was there at the bar, waiting for the band, Kevin Quain and the Mad Bastards, to start. I overheard the bartender talking to someone who'd just arrived. The guy said how much he liked the bar, and the bartender said, "Yeah, it's got this kind of New Orleans feel to it." I said, "I'm from New Orleans, and I think you're right, which is why I like it." Then, as always happens, the guy had a lot of questions about what's going on in New Orleans.

The band that night is a good instance of local music. I first heard them when Nicole and I took Megan's neighbor, Matt Ennis, there. The show was really great. Good music, great song writing, and a vibe I would compare to Tom Waits, though not at all derivative. Here's a video, though it doesn't do the grouop justice:



Otherwise, I'm busier than one might think about someone who doesn't have a job. Replacing practically everything you had takes time, and I hate to shop. And then there's a seemingly unending pile of bureaucratic hurdles to jump over. The latest, of course, were my taxes, which were extremely complicated, especially for someone who doesn't have a job. A bit of advice to those who own a double. If you ever imagine selling it two years in advance, you should set up residency in the other side of the double. When you report the sale of the property, any income made on that property won't be considered income from a business.

Our experience with Vonage

If you know me, you know I'm always looking to save a buck. And you know I'm not a big fan of the cellphone.* So, when we moved into our Toronto apartment, I was looking for the best deal on a landline. I went with Vonage. I'm writing to recommend it if you have a landline, especially if you've also got a cellphone and high-speed internet.

For $20 a month, I get a package from Vonage that's worth at least $60, maybe $100. In the US, this package costs $15. It includes:
500 minutes anywhere in the US or Canada (after that 3.2 cents/minute)
caller-id
voice mail
call waiting
Any incoming calls or calls placed to other Vonage customers don't count against your 500, so we were in no danger of going over 500. But if you need more, you can get unlimited minutes for $40/month (only $25 in the US).

This is a great smoking deal, and that's why I'm posting about it. I highly recommend it over traditional landline providers. Really the only disadvantage Vonage has compared to the others is, if you lose power, you lose your phone line. Generally, that's never been an issue, though, and as I said, if you have a cellphone it really shouldn't matter.

The main thing you need is a high-speed internet connection, typically DSL or a cable modem. They'll send you an adapter to plug into your router or modem which will work with any regular phone.

But there's another thing. Vonage offers what they call a V-phone, which allows you to make calls through any PC on the web. That would by-pass the router and adapter all together. Which means, with New Orleans' free wifi, one conceivably could get a phone line for just $15 a month without the overhead of an internet connection. That's hard to beat! (Though, the city's free service isn't the greatest. But any calls you receive while not on-line would just go to your voicemail, which you can also check over the web.)

OK, I hope this helps you save some dough if you've got a landline. If you should sign up with Vonage and mention that I referred you, I'll get two months free. (Let me know if you need my phone number.) Though the purpose of this post is to tell you a great way to possibly save money, not sell you on something.

Good luck! And let me know how that goes.
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*I'm not a big fan of the cellphone, until I return to Louisiana and use my dad's, which was once mine but given to him for Christmas once I tired of it. (Merry Christmas, Dad.)

This isn't funny

Today it has snowed all day. Two days ago I awoke to find the city had been dusted with fresh snow. When I was in New Orleans, Nicole told me the city was hit with a major snow storm. This shit is getting old!

For the past few weeks, it's gradually been warming, snow has been melting. But this shit sucks. I'm not kidding. Make it stop.

Back U.I.T.G.W.N.

Well, I'm on my way; I write this on the plane.

This trip was a good one. I had a lot of nice visits, and I got a lot accomplished. One of the more noteworthy accomplishments was picking up the Firebird, which I drove hither and yon across the city and southeast Louisiana. Last night, as I put it in my parent's garage and covered it, it was difficult not to feel sad, like I was putting aside something beautiful that demands admiration. That's how I feel about New Orleans, too.

I was glad to see noticeable progress in the city, nothing dramatic just a few more restored buildings and a few less derelict ones. It's encouraging.

Thanks to all those who hosted me: Mom & Dad, Angelle, Megan & Andy, Bruce, and Matt. In addition to them, it was great to see: Chris & Mary, Veronica, Alex, Anna Maria, Leslie, Phil, Paulie, Bob & Julie, Matt & Lauren, and Bart, Christy and wee-little Persephone.

Just as I love visiting people, I love eating some good food, so (much to Nicole's envy) here are some of the placess I frequented: La Boulangerie, Surrey's, Rue de la Course, 13, Mimi's, the Saint, Vaughn's, d.b.a., Elizabeth's, Trey Yuen, Pho Tau Bay, Angelo Bracato's, Juan's Flying Burrito, Blue Frog Chocolates. Music wise, I got to see my beloved New Orleans Bingo Show!, the Hot Club of New Orleans and Broken Smokes. I'd intended to see more, but I was having a hard time sleeping and thus a hard time staying out late.

Of course, leaving means always wishing you had more time to visit more people and more places. Though leaving can be a downer, I'm looking forward to getting home, to my cold, snow-covered home. I can't wait to see my loving Nicole and sweet angels, Ella and Eartha. All that lies between me and them is Canadian Customs.

Update: I made it through customs.

Preparing taxes

I've learned that Turbo Tax offers its services for free in three cases, the most likely being you have an adjusted gross income under $30,000. Here's the link. I did qualify and found it helpful, since my taxes were pretty complicated this year. Please pass this along to anyone who could use it.

By the way, I'm not up in the great white north right now. I'm down in Louisiana, doing things like my taxes. When I'm not caught in that drudgery, I'm enjoying visits with people.

I'm coming home

I'll be in Louisiana from March 1st through the 11th. I hope we'll be able to make some time to get together.