Archive for the ‘Life’ Category

It’s late on a Thursday night, and I should have known better. Too late. A generous amount of Ravenswood Chardonnay has completed its magic, and my head is doing that bob-bobbing thing it likes to do, as the bus trundles along on its merry way home.

I allow one foot to precariously follow the other as I weave my half-snapped way to an empty seat. There’s an attractive woman there, and she’s thoughtfully moved closer to the window, all the better to help me avoid having to climb over her to the only vacant spot left.

I plunk myself down in relief and prepare to slumber my way toward the final few miles to my home bus stop.

Only…. My nose twitches. And twitches again. Something is seriously amiss.

I look over at the woman next to me, who at this point is now obstinately staring face-forward. Desperate. Afraid. Anxious.

No. It can’t be.

But it is.

A more heinous ambience can’t be imagined.

This veritable tulip, this rose of the fairer sex has emitted a soulful and delicate silent backfire, no doubt hoping against hope for the gain of anonymity.

Yet it was not to be. For I, the seeker of lost passions and artifacts of renown, have found her out. She is but a ghost to most, but is to me she is as the stop sign to eternity’s perfume.

Still, gallant man that I am, I labour to keep her dread secret, if only to preserve my status as gentleman and appreciator of all that is good and right in the world. My nose has other ideas. My nose is offended.

I open my drunken mouth, and hesitate.

Then, “ew.”

oops_sorry

Cat Whisperer

Posted: June 13, 2016 in Life
Tags:

I last saw the two of them nine years ago. I wondered if they would remember me.

They didn’t. Not at first, anyway.

Niko – the younger but *much longer* black and white cat – hid himself right away. He immediately ran under the couch. And whenever he came into my daughter’s little apartment, he hid as soon as he saw me.

Leo – the gorgeous orange-haired kitty – didn’t hide, because as you know, alphas are fearless. But he didn’t come to me either. He looked my way, acknowledged my presence, and then wandered off to clean himself.

Leo was a cat that Angie and her then boyfriend rescued from the wilderness of a place near Tofino. There was a big parking lot, and behind that was an immense forest. They found him on the edge of the forest on a cold day during a rain and windstorm. The poor little guy was freezing, and his hair was all matted up. So they knew he’d been out there for a while.

Niko was a brother they got for him, just to keep him company – I think this happened just a few months after Leo’s rescue.

Leo’s muted tolerance of me lasted maybe a day. Being an intelligent feline, he must have noticed the loving energy between my daughter and myself, and found it acceptable, because he then adopted me.

Regal Leo

I know this because it didn’t take too much time at all for him to allow me to pet him, and scratch him under the chin (his favourite). I also took to talking to him very quietly. It was constant drone of affection and praise. I’m certain he paid attention.

Both are outdoor cats who *hate* staying inside after about 3:00 in the morning. I know this because every morning around that time, Niko would whine and beg to be let out. He’d give a little meow and then stop, and then just as soon as we fell back to sleep he’d whine again. Angie (my daughter) would sternly tell him “no, Niko! I’m not letting you out now. Go back to bed.”

Strangely enough, he’d listen, and we’d all fall back asleep.

By the way, this happened *every* *single* *night* while I was there. Angela figured it’s because the New Guy (me) was there, and he thought he could con me into letting him out.

My daughter’s place is quite small. Her bed is in a loft above the living space, and she climbs a ladder to get there. I slept on a fold-out couch in her living room. As far as I can tell, neither of us snore, so we didn’t irritate each other. A plus, for sure.

But…Niko remained afraid of me for some reason, so I wondered if he’d ever warm up.

The third night I was there, after Niko shied from me yet again, Leo jumped up on the couch and laid next to me, looking directly at his brother while I commenced petting him.

Niko took notice. There was communication between them, I swear it.

A short while afterward, Niko came close to me and allowed me to pet him. I felt victorious, and Angie was pleased, too.

Splayed Nico

And then, as the days went on, I noticed something else.

Whenever I pet Leo, he would close his eyes and then start purring. This was amazing, particularly for a furry lad who was used to being the dominant alpha in the place. This guy, who usually never lets his guard down, had done so with me.

One night, Niko came down and crawled into bed with me. When I began petting him, he climbed right on top of me. I don’t know how long he stayed there because I fell asleep.

Slowly but surely, both lads wormed their way into my heart. I didn’t realize how much they had done so until it was time for me to leave and come back home to Toronto.

Before we left for our drive to the city, Angie had me give them one of those moist treats they love so much. As I opened the cans and they crowded around me, I felt my throat close. Angie asked me if I was okay. I nodded.

If Angie was the cake to my two week stay with her, Leo and Niko had to be the icing.

“What?”

He looked over at her. She frowned and hugged herself. He reached over and turned up the heater.

Her question filled the silence between them. He watched the streetlights flicker by, separating the moments of darkness. Light, dark, light, dark, light…. Not for the first time he wished he wasn’t driving.

He repeated himself. “I’m looking for magic.”

“Well what do you mean? What magic?” Despite her shivering, she had to know.

They were returning from a group coaching session, the first one he’d ever attended. They had done several group exercises, all designed to help everyone figure out exactly what they wanted out of life. The session had been illuminating, particularly for him. He’d been so restless for such a long time, not knowing why. The coaching exercises had helped.

“I’m not sure I can put it into words,” he began.

“Try.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, staring out at the salt-stained roads, thinking.

“Ever have one of those moments when there’s sudden brightness? You can be looking at a light display in a busy downtown section. Or you notice the way the sun hits a particular tree in the spring…..You get this feeling, this sense of a world beyond this world, one where anything’s possible. There’s a mountain of treasure, a kind of…..” He thought hard. “Kind of like a never-ending orgasm, just out of reach.”

She snorted abruptly. “WHAT?”

They both laughed.

“I don’t know” he grinned. “I’m having a hard time trying to explain this…”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I’m pretty sure that when we were kids, we had a sense of wonder about the world, and about all of the possibilities. Long before we got taught about responsibilities, and our duty to the systems of employment, payments, mortgages, cars, gifts and taxes.”

“As we got older, and we took on all these burdens, that wonder got snuffed out. We forgot what it meant to explore.”

She stared straight ahead. He could tell she was processing.

He waited, silent.

After a while she looked back at him. “So tell me, what do you see when you envision this magic? As an adult, I mean.”

“I-”

“Wait. Is this what you were talking about tonight? California? Being around creative people?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s part of it. I mean, I know I can get there and do everything I talked about: writing, performing improv comedy and maybe acting. But I know there are people who do that, who don’t connect to the magic. That’s the risk, I guess.”

She shook her head. “I don’t get you. I thought you wanted these things….”

“Oh I do, I do. And I’m going after them. No doubt about it. I just don’t want to fool myself into thinking any of it’s going to bring that elusive magic.”

He was grateful for the mostly empty street. It really was a beautiful night, despite the cold and the wind. The streetlights played over the road in a way that hinted at the sparkling existence of the magic for which he longed.

He had always had a love affair with light. As a kid, he recalled having a plastic game figure that lit up with a soft red glow. He remembered being mesmerized by it, as he played out on the street with it, in the twilight of a summer evening.

Later, he recalled taking his first trip to Toronto from Oshawa, and marvelling at the city skyline, with the thousands of building lights all creating their unique dance. Each one was so different, and each seemed to invite him.

“I’m not sure there’s a single point where I’ll say ‘this is it’. I think this magic requires me to keep moving, keep exploring.” He was onto something, he was sure of it.

“I need to keep creating. Keep experiencing. Whether it’s writing, or acting, or playing piano or whatever it is….I won’t be able to stop. I can’t stop. When I stop, I’m pretty sure the magic will be hidden again.”

She nodded.

“I know how cliché it sounds…”

“Don’t” she said. “Don’t apologize for this. For any of it.” She hesitated. “I mean, I can’t pretend to understand everything you said, but I get that it’s important to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I haven’t heard you talk like this for a while. It’s definitely a good thing, this whatever it is you’re after. Not sure I’d call it magic but….it’s definitely something. How long have you been thinking about it?”

He scratched his head. Sighed. “For a long long time.” He eased the car to the stoplight. “I think it’s why I haven’t been able to feel settled in my apartment. Or for that matter, my job.”

The light turned green. He gave it some gas. “What’s worse, I could feel myself starting to stagnate. It was starting to feel like hell. Like a living hell.”

“Yeah, I noticed you weren’t laughing as much. You seemed so serious all the time. Even when we went to comedy shows, you sat there just watching the stage, like you were lost in thought.”

He nodded.

“So what changed?”

“Well for one thing, I think I’ve recaptured some momentum. I’m signing up for improv comedy classes again. Just need to get my foot back in the door again, hang around creative types.”

He smiled, mostly to himself. “And then there was the coaching thing tonight. It really helped open my eyes. I was in danger of forgetting so much.”

He didn’t mention that he didn’t think he was out of danger, just yet. It’s one thing to talk about it, but he knew he had to act or would it all go away again.

He would get old. He would lose out to complacency, comfort, and rot.

No way. No fucking way. No.

Blue-City-Skyline-At-Night

The movie Trumbo is a dramatization of the events in the life of a screenwriter named Dalton Trumbo.

trumbo

The man was also famous for being an activist and (here’s where the closed fist meets the face) a Communist.

I don’t know if it was by design or merely coincidence, but this film came out at the most appropriate time ever.

The fight he fought, back in the 40s and 50s, is echoed today. Some of the arguments used against him back then are in force today.

It’s the old “you’re either for me (and my opinions) or against me.” People seem to gravitate to the extremes of the political spectrum, without giving much to nuance, if they bother to consider it at all.

Trumbo fought for the right to have an opinion. That’s it, that’s all. Whether his opinion on Communism was viable or not (I believe it’s not) was immaterial. He wanted to have a voice, have a belief, and not have people castigate him for that belief.

Despite his protest, he was lumped in with all Communists of that time and put on a blacklist. The powers back then sought to keep him from making a living in Hollywood, in his chosen profession. They were so very afraid his intent was to infect the minds of the movie-goer by using stories to persuade Americans of the good of Communism.

They had no proof of this, and they couldn’t point to any one of his many many accomplishments until that time as evidence of this supposed “plan”of his.

Yet they didn’t believe they needed proof. All they needed to know was whether he was a Communist or not. The perfect example of “painting with a wide brush.”

It reminds me vividly of a guy who attended my high school. I knew his father to be a card-carrying political activist and Communist. I remember that both he and his father were ostracized by pretty much everyone. We all knew about his Communist dealings, and we all despised him for it (the son bearing the stigma of his father, of course).

It never occurred to me back then that these were people, and that there was no evidence they were hurting anyone.

If the sentiment was that strong in MY childhood, how much more strong would it have been back right after World War II?

We don’t have to guess, do we? The House Un-American Activities Committee – the group that created the infamous blacklist – went to great pains to underline how avowed Communists, as well as friends and family of Communists, were out to destroy the American way of life.

The parallels to today are painful. If you’re a follower of Obama, you’re probably an unthinking parasite on society. Someone deserving of scorn and ridicule.

On the other hand, if you’re a Republican, or a declared Christian, you’re likely a war-monger who lacks a heart. Someone without compassion who probably resembles Donald Trump.

There’s just no room for reason or honest debate. There’s little room for discussion, or for being so open to evidence and logical persuasion that one can change one’s mind.

Instead, we’re setting up camp on our prized dogmas, secure in our beliefs. Everyone outside the camp is the enemy. Instead of seeking to persuade anyone, we look to find evidence to support our already entrenched positions, to the delight and captive applause of the grinning choir.

Everybody Into the Pool

Posted: August 17, 2015 in Life, living
Tags: , , ,

Most days my apartment mailbox is empty.

There are some days when I’ll look through the tiny window and notice a shadow. Usually that means I’m in for some heartfelt and needy love, usually from Canadian Tire or Sears or IKEA.

Most bills are sent electronically, so it’s rare that any requests for money hit my mailbox, unless it’s a charity – and most of those don’t even know I exist anymore.

So when I opened the box a few months ago, I was surprised to see an official envelope with the provincial government seal on it. My license and health card won’t expire for at least five years. I wondered….could it be….?

I tore open the envelope. It was exactly as I thought: a long overdue notice about jury duty. Only in this case, it was a questionnaire to see if I qualified to serve.

gavel

I answered their questions.  No, I hardly ever exhibit misogynist tendencies and almost always eschew homophobic or bigoted thoughts.  As for criminal records well, they never did catch me, so I was clear there.

Ergo, in the minds of the court, I would do just fine.

Skip to a few months later (last week actually), and the summons to appear for the jury pool showed up in that same mailbox.

I wondered about that. How did they know I’d get it for sure? There was nothing special about the mail – I didn’t have to sign for it. As far as they knew, I could have been away on holiday. Or I could have been on a three-day bender, and was now suffering in a hospital bed, trying to recover.

Anyway, tomorrow I have to show up for the jury pool.

It’s funny: when you’re younger you tend to judge people quickly. If the waitress doesn’t pay enough attention to you, it’s because she’s an out-and-out bitch – and you tip her accordingly. If someone frowns at you it’s because they’re just stupid.

It never occurs to you that most of the seemingly negative behaviours people exhibit rarely have anything to do with you. That waitress could be worried about a sick child at home. The guy who just frowned at you was probably thinking about a phone call from a creditor he’d received that morning. It’s just your bad luck that you were on the receiving end of his thousand-yard stare.

It takes a while – and some maturing – to realize that we’re all in this struggle together, and that some of us are just better than others at handling it.

You learn, eventually, to grant people some space, and to give them the benefit of the doubt. You learn not to take things so personally, and to be graceful when you can.

Instead of insisting on drama, you learn how to relax. You stop yelling at drivers on the road when you’re in your car. You let them scramble to get in front of you, because the place your going is still going to be there, whether you arrive 30 seconds early or late.  (Anyway, they’re all only racing to see who can get to the red light first).

You learn to laugh. Your tendency now is to hear all sides of a story before making a judgement. That alone makes you probably an ideal candidate for jury duty.I’m looking forward to playing my part in whatever trial awaits.

Though I don’t know who the defendant will be or what they’re saying he’s done, I’m pretty sure the dirty rotten bastard did it anyway.

If I enlighten the judge with this important information early, maybe I’ll be home before dinner.

“How can I help you?”

The first thing I noticed were her twinkling blue eyes.  She looked like she’d just finished laughing or was about to laugh.

The next thing I saw was her bright smile.

She was a short little thing, with dark curly hair that puddled down her back.

I had only dropped into the restaurant to do some reading.  The place was known for its hot spiced french fries – which I usually ate without benefit of ketchup or vinegar. Naked fries were the best.

fries

Also, a glass of Chardonnay would complete the experience.  So that’s what I ordered.

She smiled again and took off.

When she brought me a glass of water, I stopped her.  Part of my brain just wanted to go for it, while another part was honestly intrigued.

“Excuse me” I said.  “Do we know each other?  Have you served me before?  I would have come in with a friend from work.”

I know how lame that sounds, but the restaurant had a lot of empty tables for that time of day, and I was sitting in my usual spot.  I’ve been in there a fair amount, as it’s close to my office.

“I don’t know” she said, still smiling.  “I don’t recall you.  My name is Lena”.

What I should have done was respond with my name.  That’s what a romantic guy would do – now that the ice was broken. But my ADHD hyperfocus had kicked in, as I struggled to recall whether I’d heard that name before.

“No, I don’t know that name” I said.  “Guess not, huh?”

“When did you last come in?”

“It would have been about six weeks ago” I replied, still struggling to remember.

“Well then we don’t know each other.  I only started a month ago.”

“Oh”  I was disappointed.  “Oh well.”

She smiled and left.

Each time she came to the table, to bring the food, the wine and to check to see if everything was okay, she had the brightest smile.

Twirling around in the back of my mind were all of these thoughts.

“Someone that gorgeous with such a great smile probably gets hit on all of the time.  Am I going to be another boor, troubling her in her place of work where she can’t get away?”

“I really like my setup at home. I worked hard to achieve the peace of my bachelor domain.  How ready am I to give that up?”

“She seems young enough to still want kids.  I wonder if I’m open to that?”

I really liked her, but …..  I had all of these reasons why I shouldn’t pursue her.  Most of these thoughts were straying outside of the limits of my consciousness, so I wasn’t truly on top of them or even aware.  That’s how it is with most things in a person cursed (or blessed, as the case may be) with ADHD.

So I concentrated on reading my book, and on enjoying the meal.

After the bill was paid, and the tip was administered, I stayed, enjoying the music and the book.  I sipped on my water, totally engrossed in the story.

She came back after that with a pitcher of water, and that ever-present huge smile.  “Would you like some more?”

“Oh that’d be great.  Thank you!” I said.

I finished the water.

It wasn’t until I left the place and began walking to the bus terminal that my brain tapped me on the shoulder.

“Doofus” it said.  “You realize that she didn’t have to come back with the water, right?  She wasn’t smiling for her tip any more – even if that ever was the case.”

I shrugged to myself.  I’ve had a number of missed opportunities before.  This wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last.

Maybe I’ve learned.  Maybe not.  Who knows.

Such A Deal

Posted: August 5, 2014 in dating, humor, humour, Life, romance
Tags: , , , , ,

kirsten-dunst-8

The first thing I noticed was her smile.

It was full, and warm, and it matched the twinkle in her eyes.

I didn’t trust it at all.

She came up to me, and asked me if I ever had a facial.

“Yes, actually I have”.   It had been a Father’s Day gift from my children.

“Well good!  Can I talk to you for a few minutes about our product?”

She was gorgeous, and thin and she was wearing a filmy blouse that hinted of treasure.

I sighed.  My little guy had taken over, while my brain shouted “NOTHING’S HAPPENING THIS IS A WASTE OF TIME WHAT ARE YOU DOING OH GOD OH GOD OKAY”

The sun was beginning to set, and the warmth of the summer night hugged us both as I followed her down the stairs of the little Yorkville shop.

“Is green your favourite colour?  It’s mine.”

“No, actually my favourite colour is blue”.  Why were we talking about colours, I wondered.  She pointed at my green shirt.  Oh.

“Why don’t you sit over there while I try this product on you.”

It wasn’t a question.  I sat.

As she applied something to my arm (I have no idea what it was) she described the product and asked me bright questions while smiling.  Truly I had no idea which end was up, what she was using on me, or where this was going.  (Though I suspected).

“Are you married?” she asked.

I smiled.  “No, not at all.”

“So you’re happy.”

I looked at her.

“You know, either you’re married or you’re happy”

I thought that was rather cynical.  She carried on talking before I could pursue the thought.

I don’t know how we got around to talking about it but suddenly she mentioned tequila.

“I’ve never had tequila” I blurted.

“Really?  Oh we’ll have to go to a bar so you can try it” she said.

The woman didn’t lack for confidence.  I was kind of stunned though.

“We will?  Oh, I mean yeah.  We should definitely do that”

(“We’ll never do that” I thought)

“You’re eyes are hazel” she announced.

“No, my eyes are brown”

“No, my eyes are brown, yours are hazel”

Apparently this was not an argument.  My place was to say yes.  Even though I’ve had brown eyes all of my life.

I had to keep up with her.  I nodded.  She smiled.

She was such a pleasant winner.  A good-looking winner.

Also I was such a pushover.  I wondered how I was going to break the news to my family that I now had hazel eyes.

She turned to get another product.  I noticed through her see-through top that she had a tattoo.  It was comprised of some foreign words.  I wanted to ask her about it, but she started talking again.

This time she was giving me the sales pitch.

“What do you want the most?”

(You, in my arms would be a good start)  “Uh, what do you mean?”

“If you were to change anything about your face, what would it be?”

Oh.  “Well, I suppose it would be the bags under my eyes”

She brightened.  “I have the perfect product for that!”

(I’ll bet you do)

“Try this product”  She rubbed it on my arm, which I’d like to point out was no where near my eye-bags.

“It’s infused with diamonds!” she enthused.

(Diamonds!  That must mean…….uh, it means it’s likely expensive.)

“It’s guaranteed to help.  But you should apply it only at night.  No sense in putting it on at the start of your day.  Gravity would just pull everything down.”

I was getting an education.  I tried paying attention but she was so distracting.

“Okay then.”

She smiled the beautiful and satisfied grin of a predator.  “Shall I package it all up for you?”

“Package what?”

“All of the products!”

I smiled.  “Well, I would need to know how much it costs.”

“Oh” she said. “It’s not that much.  Normally it’s $1,600 for everything.  But…..since it’s you – and don’t tell anyone else about this – I’ll give it to you for only $800.”

I smiled wider.  “No, I don’t think so.”

She cocked her head and looked at me.  “Maybe I can take a bit more off.”  I shook my head. “Maybe I can give it to you for $700.  But you can’t tell ANYONE.”  She put a finger over her lips.

“No.  I’m sorry.  Can’t do it.”

She hesitated.  Then, “well, if you could only have one product what would it be?”

“The eye thing I guess”.

“Oh well I can help you with that!” she was pleased with herself.  “It’s only $400!  Such a great deal.”

“Uh huh” I said.  “Sorry, that’s too much.”  I mentally punched myself.  Why was I giving her these openings?  I wasn’t going to part with a dime.  Just thank her for her time and leave.

“Okay okay” she grimaced.  “How about I give it to you for $160 and you don’t tell anyone?”

I looked at her.  She looked at me.  I thought about her whole spiel, and the time we’d spent together.  I knew she was desperate for this sale.  I also knew I didn’t need any of it, and could easily walk away.

Some stupid idiot inside of my brain said “don’t disappoint her.  Just buy the damned thing and get out.”

I nodded.    “Okay” I said, aloud.

“You’ll take it?”

“I’ll take it”

“Oh good!” she replied.  “Let me ring it up.”

I proceeded to kick myself mentally.  Hard.

“Maybe we can go to the bar sometime next week” she said.

The idiot inside of me said “see?  Totally worth it, dude!”

I mentally replied to the idiot “there’s no way she’s going to a bar with me. It was all about the sale.”  The idiot went into a pout.

“Here, let me get your phone number.  I’ll call you on Monday, and we can get together.  Here’s my number, too.”

The inner idiot smirked.  “See?  And you thought she was faking an interest.  Who’s the idiot now?”

I smiled, took my purchase and left.

——————-

Later that weekend I checked online.  Apparently the product I bought normally went for $400.  So I did get a good deal.

——————-

After not getting her phone call on Monday I called her on Tuesday.  It took her a few moments to remember who I was.

“Oh, I’m at home right now.  How about I call you tomorrow?”

“Okay” I said.

(“I’m at home now”?  What the hell was up with that? )

——————

She never got back to me of course.

If it’s too good to be true……