Back in the saddle again

I've returned form a week in Ontario.
I've over eaten more than once, visited friends and family, and even stayed up past 11 p.m.

I now have to face the reality of working again, getting up and starting my cold car, and eventually listening to my parents gawk about their trip to the Caribbean, and how hot it was.

My dad will come back tanned as black as tar, my mom will have her hair weaved in that stupid little dread lock thingy that all white tourist get done (I think it's just a joke that locals play on tourists to make them look like assholes) and my sister will be on her latest rant, which currently involves how farm animals are mistreated, and how skim milk powder is 2 chemicals away from napalm.....

I'm over the fact that 90% of my immediate family is going South. I had my awesome man weekend earlier in the month, and I'm hoping Ali will be able to do something with her girlfriends in the future. It just irks me how people always tell stories of their vacation and say things like "Remember how our bartender Jose said your name?" or when they have an inside joke that just won't die.
With my parents, it's the lame pictures. Sure, they mean something to them, but to me it's just a group of strangers smiling, and holding up giant drinks.
And then there's my dad's famous line "Did you notice _____ while you were in Cuba?" Or "Is that what you did when you were there?"

Petty, I know, but I'm ready for it this year more than ever. I have Ali and Ellery to keep me sane through the cold months ahead.

Ode to my belly button lint

Oh, belly button lint, so stealthily you appear

I have a shower, put on a clean shirt, and yet you persevere

I find you in the evening, after carrying you around all day

I take my shirt off and get ready for bed, and you poke your head out to see if I'm OK

I wonder what you're made of, and if you'll ever cease

I imagine how big you'd be if my shirts were made of fleece

I always know you have my back, or rather my mid section

I just wish you were one of those things I simply couldn't mention

As I live my life these days I'll take the good with the bad

After all you're not the toughest combatant that I've ever had

You're evil twin toe jam has introduced themselves on occasion too

But I'll have the last laugh when I shower away the both of you

Until next time, bellybutton lint. Until next time....

It's almost the "C" word..

Christmas.

Remember a few years back when a few people were freaking out, saying that Christmas wasn't just for Christians, and that everyone celebrated this holiday?
We couldn't say Christmas tree. It was known as a "holiday" tree.
We couldn't say Merry Christmas, it was "Happy holidays".

Way to ruin Christmas. Merry Holi-mas.
Better?

This last few days before the big day is where I'm truly impressed with Ali's ability to speed shop.
This is like watching a man on crack going through his shopping list. My question is this ;

Why can't women shop like this all of the time?

They buy what they need, glancing at their lists, get into a store, get mad at the crowd, buy what they need, and bee line it for the till. Sounds like man shopping to me!

Good luck finishing your shopping.

What's not to like?

I've returned home to frigid cold winds, a foot of snow, and bitter cold.

For the past few days, I was living a sports fan's dream, watching a live NFL game between the Carolina Panthers and the Denver Broncos, and enjoying an awesome round of golf at a beautiful golf course called Old Sycamore golf Plantation.

I have to sincerely thank my hosts Reggie and Gigi for showing me true Southern charm and hospitality. They made a great trip even better, and I can't wait for the two of you to finally meet the rest of my family.

I think I must have been a Southerner in a former life. I sampled all of the local dishes and loved them all. It started with a good seafood dinner, complimented with succotash. The next morning, I had my first taste of grits and country ham (a salty version of our Canadian back bacon).
The next day at the best tailgate ever, I had Chesapeake oysters as big as a baby's fist, including one with a pearl, and fresh North Carolina shrimp and steamed mussels.

My host's house was very cozy. I've visited many States across the U.S., but this is the first one that I could actually see myself living there. I think a lot has to do with the whole Southern charm there, and we as Canadians are very polite too, so we're very similar.
I was getting used to being called "honey" by the older ladies, and chuckled every time I heard a man address another woman as "darlin'" or "sweetheart".

I loved meeting the extended family - all 5 of the Border collies, the 2 horses and cats, and Bosco the parrot.
I enjoyed the dialogue with Larry, and chatting with Tree and Bash.

I enjoyed Penny's place - this little dive of a restaurant with no windows that served food on Styrofoam plates.

I liked the coffee there. Probably the best American coffee around.

I appreciated the hospitality of all of the strangers that I introduced myself to.
I'm looking forward to our next trip to Charlotte to visit Reggie, Gigi and family.

As a transplanted Chicagoean says about North Carolina, "What's not to like?".

Thanks, one million times over. I've been ruint.......

Superstitions

As a man, I have some superstitions when it comes to sports.

I always wear my Bomber jersey to games. I think the world will end if I don't.

I have to watch an away game, or else my team will lose. This one doesn't make much sense, because they still lose anyway.

When I go away to watch my first NFL game, I will have to wear something with Denver Broncos on it. Not in plain sight, I don't have a death wish, but something nonetheless.

Other superstitions include not stepping on the first base line when playing baseball, or putting on my wedding ring a certain way, so the engraving faces upward.

When I go fishing, the first fish is always let go - this produces more fish in the end.

What are some of your superstitions in life?

Why do sit ups hurt?

The other day, I had Miss E on the floor beside me.
She was entertaining herself with various toys, and I'm trying to get back on track with the whole exercise thing, so I grabbed my weights and got to work.
After my set amount of reps with the weights, I decided to do a few push ups and sit ups.
When I was a young buck, sit ups were an everyday occurrence while serving my Country, so why not start slow again?

After about thirty sit ups, I began to feel a slight twitch in my abdomen. I kept going, focusing on my technique, as to not mess up my back further, managing to do a few more.
All was well, until I tried to sit up. I swear to everything holy, I actually felt like I had a hernia.
I stood up as straight as I could, allowing my abdominal muscles to stretch, but I had these two burning, nagging spots in my belly. What made things worse, was the fact that I had already picked up Ellery, and was frozen in severe pain. She knew something was wrong. She looked at me, trying to figure out why daddy looked like he was getting shanked in a prison shower, but no words would come out. I just stood there, bend slightly to the left, making my peace with God.
Then, as fast as the pain hit me, it disappeared into thin air.

Lesson learned. Abs are over-rated.

Manventure V 2.0

Soon, I will be packing my bags and venturing down to some warmer weather to see my first NFL game.
I think I have been driving Ali crazy, with my relentless planning, my lists, and talking about the most recent weather forecasts.
I basically plan on getting as little sleep as possible to fully maximize my time in North Carolina.
My gracious host is filling the day planner with different ideas and suggestions for sampling the local cuisine.

Here's my only dilemma - the host team is playing my favorite team. The other thing is that I actually own a Carolina Panthers jersey, so I'll think I'll be safe and wear the proper "gang" colors.
I don't want to cause a scene. I'll still cheer for my team, just a little quieter than usual.

So, as we reach our high temperature of -29 Celsius with the wind, I'll be day dreaming of my first tailgate party, my first NFL game, and the tropical 50 degree weather that awaits me.

Another top 10

I've decided to make a list of things that I'm not good at, but aspire to learn, or improve my skills.

1. Photography - Ali loves taking pictures, and when I see her work (especially of Ellery) it makes me wish that I had a better knack at finding "the perfect shot".

2. Water skiing - Never tried it, but it looks fun. If those wipe outs are half as bad as they are on an inner tube, I'm dead...

3. Football - If I could turn back the clock, I wish that I played football in high school. Now that my bad back/feet don't allow it, I wish that I had some cool football stories to tell.

4. Guts - I hate the thought of sky diving, or bungee jumping. I wish I had that "no fear" attitude, but also working on an Orthopedics ward helps change my mind on those things.

5. The travel bug - Self explanatory, unless I win the lotto, I don't have that ability to just pack up my stuff and fly around the world. Someday, when our finances are a little more set up, this will happen.

6. Neil Peart II - One day, I'm going to own a drum kit, and rock the f*$# out. You'll see.

7. Speaking Spanish - This is probably the one language that I would like to learn the most. I think it would serve me well during all of my trips to the Caribbean.

8. Staying in touch with family - Over the years, I have lost touch with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents for no reason whatsoever. Time to make some calls.

9. Card tricks - Always popular with the kids, and a great ice breaker anywhere. Plus, maybe it'll net me some quick cash.

10. Work on blogging more - I think I've picked it up quite nicely again. I just have to find a way to get my readers back....

Soap vs. the "poof"

As I showered today and used up the last of my body wash, I decided to go back to soap for a while.
I just feel cleaner using a bar of soap, instead of that little clump of material that most women love.

Besides that, most body washes stink. They're either "passion raspberry" scent, or "Jungle Musk". Both not appropriate for a 30 year old man.

I once heard a comedian talking about how his wife wanted him to do the laundry. She asked him to wash the "poofs". He responded with "How do you wash something that only touches soap? It's not even dirty!".

So, for now, I've retired the poof. Maybe I'll gain a little more of my manhood back with each subsequent shower.

Which do you prefer?

Best Christmas memories...

Tomorrow marks the first day of December, one of my favorite months.
Stores begin to play Christmas music, lights are being put up everywhere, trees are being sold at most corner gas stations, and the streets are jam-packed with people.

I remember one particular Christmas when I was 7 years old. I heard a sound on the roof (looking back, it was probably snow falling off) and swore it was Santa. My mom played right into it, and told me that he wouldn't come down the chimney if I stayed awake, so I quickly pulled the blankets over my head and forced my eyes shut.

The next morning, I jumped out of bed, woke up my sister, and ran downstairs. There on the table in the living room, were 2 envelopes. I opened my letter, and It read "Dear Christopher, thank you for the milk and cookies. The Reindeer loved the carrots, too."
I was blown away. Santa is on such a strict schedule, but he took the time to write a personal note to me and my sister?
The rest of the morning was spent opening our gifts, eating breakfast, then heading outside to show our friends what we got.
On the way out the door, my mom stopped me to show me the living room carpet. In a direct path from the chimney to the tree, were heavy boot prints - Santa's bootprints!

It turns out our elderly next door neighbor wrote the letters so we wouldn't recognize the writing, and the boot prints were my dad's....unless my dad IS Santa.

My parents are the best. These are the kind of things Ali and I are going to do with Ellery.

Happy belated Thanksgiving

In the midst of my dreaded stretch of night shift, I forgot to say happy turkey day to our Southern friends.
Usually, I remember this day as a day when football starts at 11:00 in the morning, and goes all day.
I also think of Sarah Palin pardoning that one little turkey, while some get slaughtered in the background. A classic on Youtube.

So, happy (belated) Thanksgiving to all of my American readers. I hope you ate turkey and sweet potatoes until your belts exploded.

Wintertime fun!

A friend of mine who's Australian, wants to go ice fishing. He's really excited to go this winter, and he keeps on asking me little things like "Do you drill your own holes?", or "Do you use live bait?", and my personal favorite "Does the water freeze after you drop the line down the hole?".
It's how I imagine fishing with a 4 year old will be.
I'm going to make a real strong effort to go out at least once here in Manitoba. Sadly, I've lived here for going on 7 years, and I've only bought a Manitoba fishing license once. Most of my fishing is done in Ontario.

We're in the process of buying Ellery a sleigh. We want to continue to go for walks in the winter, and a sled is the only practical way to lug around a baby. I never thought that two pieces of wood and a rope would be so expensive. When I was a kid, we used to slide down hills with a plastic garbage bag, or the ever-so-popular "Crazy carpet" which was essentially a stiff chunk of plastic about three feet long, and two feet wide.

When I was living at home in Ontario, my friends and I used to tie 4 or 5 different toboggans/GT snow racers/sleds behind a snowmobile. We had a little course set up around the yard that weaved it's way through the trees, around the shed, and over the hill in the field across from the house.
When it became boring, we used to have competitions like who could stay on the longest. My personal favorite move consisted of running along side the moving sleds, and kicking my friends in the head to knock them off. 60% of the time, it worked every time.
Once in a while we would venture off the beaten path, and go full throttle down the street.
I remember one night, a few of us did this for about 2 hours straight, up and down Ali's street. This was one of my "wooing" tactics to get the girl. It worked.
I wonder if there's any way a 30 year old man can pull that kind of stuff off now...

Hockey night in Canada

So, now that my beloved Blue Bombers are finished for the year, the time for our "unofficial" Canadian pastime begins. Actually, hockey started over a month ago, but I just got into it.

I've always enjoyed skating, and playing hockey. I was never on a team, but would rather play in a pick-up game, or play road hockey in front of my house.

One of my fondest memories of road hockey is the following;

It was a game of two on two. Me and my best friend Mike were battling my neighbors, who, happened to be cousins.
We had been playing for over a hour, when we decided that the next goal wins. Just then, I passed the ball (which was frozen solid, and hard as a cue ball) to Mike. He was about 10 feet away from the net, and as the ball was rolling towards him, he began the longest back swing I think I have ever seen. It was like watching Chi Chi Rodriguez lining up on a 400 yard drive.
The ball connected with the blade of Mike's stick, and launched at the goal at break-neck speed. Actually, it was launched at the poor goalie's, ahem, area at break ball speed.
He hit the goalie square in the nards, and he crumpled like he had been shot. After a few minutes of him trying not to cough up his balls, he got up and quietly whispered "I'm going home now".
Nobody saw him for 2 entire days. We thought he was dead.

One other time, I was invited to play on a team who was one man short. I borrowed the missing guy's equipment (all except his jock) and took to the ice. As I took to the ice for my first shift, I just tried to stay out of everyones way.
I was playing defense, and as I was entering the other team's zone, the puck scooted around the boards, and lazily bounced towards me.
I wound up to take a one-timer and fired the puck at the net. Just as I was completing my follow through, I noticed this big orange blur. It was my neighbor form the road hockey incident.
He crouched down just before impact, and that's when everything turned to slow motion. I remember him hitting me, my feet leaving the ice, and me lying face down on the ice, trying to figure out which way was up.
The hit itself wasn't too bad, nor was the impact of smashing down onto the ice. Actually, after I realized that the equipment actually padded my fall, I thought that contact wasn't so bad.
The only shitty part about this whole experience, was the fact that I was wearing one of those thin, flimsy Jofa helmets, similar to what Wayne Gretzky used to wear. No protection whatsoever. That's when the headache began, and my one game hockey career came to a screeching halt.

Since my back is feeling much better lately, I'm hoping to be able to take my skates and stick down to the local rink and have a good old fashioned game of non contact shinny.
Just another typical day in Western Canada.

I should be on ER

At my place of work, we have the occasional code, or "medical emergency".
Today, I was at the nurse's desk doing some paperwork, when I heard a little voice yell "Call a code blue!!! Room 47 bed 2!!"

I quickly jumped up, as I knew that this was my patient, and ran down the hall. I was in the process of transfusing blood to this woman, so the risk of her having a reaction was always a possibility.
I was surprised when I entered the room to find my patient sitting upright in bed, perfectly fine.
Her husband, on the other hand, was rigid as a piece of plywood in a chair at the foot of the bed.
Me and another nurse quickly scooped the man under the arms, and helped him back into the chair.
Within seconds, the "code team" was in the room. This is a specialized group of doctors, nurses, IV nurses, and Respiratory therapists which answer these medical emergencies.
As I was making my way down the hall to check on my patient, my mind was swirling, and I was preparing myself for the worst. I was thinking "o.k, I'll get into the room, put the head of the bed down, set up oxygen, do a quick blood pressure, assess the patient, and then initiate CPR if needed". All of this went out the window when I realized that this was a visitor to the hospital, not a patient on our ward.
I had to stand back for a second, and restart the whole process. First off, I didn't know who this man was. Secondly, I knew nothing of his past medical history, or any medications he was taking (or not taking).
As I was trying to assess the man, I was asking his poor wife questions about his health history, as she lay there in bed with a total look of terror on her face.
It was quite the distraction - normally, one would only have to focus on one patient and have the full support of the code team, but there I was, with one other nurse, a concerned wife in the bed next to me, a son who was frozen with fear, and a family friend who was crying hysterically.
I asked the other visitors to leave the room to give us some room to work. Just then, the team showed up with the "crash cart", which is loaded with everything from oxygen and dressing supplies, to Epinephrine and an EKG machine.
Luckily, the man came to his senses, and we were able to load him into a wheelchair, and whisk him down to the safe confines of the Emergency Department.
Still shaking for the events that had just happened, I grabbed my lunch and headed to the break room to have some lunch and gather my thoughts.
Just as I began my lunch, I heard on the PA system "Code blue, Adult Emergency".
I don't know if it was the same man or not, and I wasn't able to settle in and enjoy my lunch after that.
I now know why people try to find things to get their heart pumping. These adrenaline junkies love the way they feel during something that terrifies them. As much as I didn't want those events to take place, I found myself just kind of going into robot mode, and just doing what had to be done.
I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Boy time

No, it's not a Boy George song title, it's a chance to hang out with some friends on Monday night, and watch a little football.
Ali and I have decided that once in a while, she can have a girl's night, and I can have a boy's night.
We do most things as a family, which I love to death, however I don't think Ali and Ellery would enjoy a football game and a platter of honey garlic wings, washed down with a nice cold beer.

As Ali stated on a previous post, a little time to yourself is needed to keep your balance.
This is why I need to hang out with my friends, and talk sports, bitch about work, and de-stress.
It's almost inevitable that our conversations turn to work, and we start complaining about our co-workers. I think this helps get all of the issues off of your chest, and allows you to keep plugging away at your job.

On a side note, it was nice having a conversation to a certain Southern gentleman the other night.
Please, don't ever mention my beloved Broncos and their disgusting blow out loss to those "untouchable" New England Patriots again. I had nightmares.