I dunno why I swatted the fly...

Mere minutes ago, I was laying on top of our bed reading a new novel that I'm really enjoying all about a woman's journey with her experience of the eventual disintegration of her mother's memory and abilities due to Alzheimer's disease. "The Glass Seed" by Eileen Pearkes. I'm off topic. Anyway, as I was peacefully reading my book, there was a fly buzzing about the place and landing on things stupidly, like the hot bulb of our bed lamp, and then fluttering and buzzing about more madly because of the self-induced burn marks on its wee-feet. I'm pretty good at ignoring noises while I read, especially if the book is interesting, but this fly kept making itself known in my immediate consciousness by landing on the pillow next to me, walking around, buzzing a bit, and then swooping off to do a second round of burn marks on the bulb, then returning for a pillow-walk by my head. By the fourth or fifth cycle, I had taken quite a notice to this little fly-disturber, and decided to take action. Not only did I hit the fly on our bed! but I used my new and autographed copy of 'The Glass Seed' to knock the fly senseless. I was impressed by the rapid 'Swap!' of the thick book that ultimately beat the fly to the race for freedom. Brian was less than impressed by my swatting action on none other than his side of the bed. Oopsies. Sorry, honey. Being a lazy git that I am sometimes (I was comfy on the bed in reading position), I told Brian I'd clean it up later, but "Don't let me forget". Sure enough, a few pages later in my book, I look up to a space on the bed with.... no fly. What the heck? I guess I must have knocked the sense out of it, but its sense came back with a vengeance and it took off to go for one more burn run and then landed on..... Brian's pillow. I couldn't do it. I wanted to, but I couldn't. So, I asked Brian to come and get it for fear my movement would make it take off for the hot bulb one more time. Brian shifted the fly onto a piece of paper and then moved the whole thing out of the bed area and then smacked it real good with Johnny's old license plate. That fly had no chance. Sorry, buddy. To make sure it was good and gone, Brian flicked it out onto the deck, where there are a few fresh centimetres of snow, surely a great place for a twice beat-up, burn-victim fly.

Asparagus Pee

It is the time of spring, the time when the baby asparagus piles are so lovingly cheap at the grocery store (and yet the snow still falls - 20 fresh cm at Whitewater ski hill this morning). One of the things I love about Brian is all the neat bits I learn from him. For example, when we first ate asparagus together, he informed me of something called 'asparagus pee'. I had never heard of such a thing. He is, unfortunately or otherwise, plagued with 'asparagus pee' every time he eats the green goods. Basically, the next pee you have after eating asparagus is all smelly -- BUT, only if you have the asparagus gene. Huh? Yeah, so we looked it up on Wikipedia yesterday and here's what we read:

Asparagus and urine

Marcel Proust claimed that asparagus "...transforms my chamber-pot into a flask of perfume."

Some of the constituents of asparagus are metabolized and excreted in the urine, giving it a distinctive smell. This is due to various sulfur-containing degradation products (e.g. thiols and thioesters) and ammonia. Recent studies suggest that every individual produces the odorous compounds upon eating, but that only about 40% of individuals have the genes required to smell them.^[10][11] The speed of onset of urine smell is rapid, and has been estimated to occur within 15-30 minutes from ingestion.^[12]

I don't know who Marcel Proust is, but that's one heck of a quote. So lucky am I that I don't have the genes to smell the 'perfume' of asparagus pee. After reading this blurb, however, I am curious to eat asparagus and see if Brian can smell said 'perfume' from my pee. I'll let you know.

Pretty Pottery and Beth is Back on the Blog!

So this past weekend was supposed to be the first weekend of spring, but alas, no. No spring for us. It snowed instead. The most gigantic flakes were dancing from the sky in swirls and rhythmic flops all day. Gorgeous, but it's supposed to be spring time!Along with the snow came an old friend! It's been just over a year since Brian and I last saw Beth, when we were in the airport in Nelson, New Zealand, seeing her off to Canada just before Brian and I started our bike tour of the south island. Now that we're all back in the northern hemisphere, Beth stayed with us for the weekend, where she was entertained by all the shops on Baker Street, a yoga therapy session with me, and meals a-la-New Zealand (not Kiwi meals, but meals that I made frequently for Beth and I on our travels there, like curry medley). I also broke out my yoga-conscious-cookies and Britt's recipe for guacamole: Beth and I also laughed about some of the more hilarious memories from our travels, such as the little girl with the cow's eyeball touching all our stuff, or the time I changed my maxi-pad on the beach (I don't think I included a description of that one on my blog, as it may have been a bit over the top for new readers of my travels, but in my defence there were no washrooms!). With all the food, yoga, and laughter, the weekend was over before we knew it. Thanks for coming out Beth!

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Last night was the last night of my 12-week pottery class, whereby I got to replicate the timeless pottery scene from the movie Ghost. Well, not quite. Brian wasn't part of this class, sadly. However, my creative hands produced three mugs and five bowls. I am literally in love with my choice of glaze... I'm afraid I might just have a new hobby to add to the big list of things I love to do.

Greg & Johnny

The first round of visitors during this month was my brother Greg and his friend Earladeen. After a monster of a drive (something that took 12 hours instead of 7, all due to other peoples' accidents, two flat tires, and 100 km of driving on three wheels and a rim - yeeeouch). Once they finally got here, we had a blast. Even Con (the owner of the house we're in) got in on some ping pong, but he used what he affectionately calls the 'Cave Man Bat' (a piece of driftwood) instead of a normal paddle. I tried the Cave Man Bat out for a spin, and it works pretty well, especially for the extended curve balls. Watch out for the splinters. In the short span of time Greg and Earladeen were with us, we managed to get into all sorts of trouble, including a full day of skiing at Whitewater. Greg, who was tired of his old school "Force 9" skis ended up trying out and buying a pair of demo skis (the 'Movement' skis on the far left in the photo below, newly named 'Gas' and 'Hole') It was a spectacular day to ski: soft snow, and plenty of sun. The weekend flew by, as did Greg's drive back home, in comparison to his drive up here! The following day, I made the final decision on what to do with my beloved Johnny, my 1981 Pontiac Grand LeMans (it used to be my Grandpa Johnny's car)...... Well, this photo shows all that's left of him:I ripped this label off his rear end just before the auto wreckers took him into their yard, for good. Johnny was such a great car. He sucked gas like it was coming straight from the bottomless pop fountain, but he kept me safe, he drove me all over Canada and back, and we were best of buddies for the past eight years (plus all the years I got rides in Johnny when I was a wee kid). Johnny, you rock, buddy. Here's to you chillin' out in Nelson for your remaining days until you get squished and become a small fragment of a new Volkswagon. "Kah-Chink!" [beer glass cheer].

Silken Laumann, Drunk Eddy, Aurora Borealis, and Finally a Job!

Silken Laumann just looked directly into my eyes and smiled with a warmth and vulnerability I find hard to describe. Let me go backwards in time for a minute. I've travelled nearly two hours getting from downtown Vancouver to the airport via city bus. When I arrived at the door to the South Terminal (the little sister chucked on the far side of the Main Terminal), my tummy let me know it wanted something to chew on, so I walked the entire length of the terminal - a whopping 20 metres - and stood in line at the only cafe available. Five guys in coveralls were ahead of me in line, all joking and playing around like boys at summer camp. They were humorous and entertaining to witness. After just saying 'yes' to the second option of quiche (due to a lack of comprehension on my part of the waiter's thick accent), I took a seat and waited patiently for my quiche to come and tried not to eat my brownie first. This tall woman walked by and stood in line, looking back once in my general direction and I immediately recognized her as the rowing champion Silken Laumann. I've always been fond of her - she seems, from the times I'd seen her on T.V. (not that I watch T.V., right?), to be compassionate and very.... well, human. She seems like one of those 'celebrities' that doesn't like being put on a pedestal, but doesn't mind being considered an inspiration to others. And once I'd overheard that she ordered a double cheeseburger with fries, I almost ran up to hug her. Well, not really, but I was pretty happy to see that she's really just one of us, on her way from one place to the next, and her belly too told her it needed to munch on something. As she walked past me to find her own seat, she looked right into my eyes and held the stare for a moment or two longer than seemed normal, and I smiled and gave back to her what she was giving to me: a silent, warm 'hello' or acknowledgement. Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but this was my experience, my truth, and I find it so lovely to know that we are the same. After Silken found a seat, her double cheeseburger platter number was being called by the waiter, "Number 97. Number 97. Number 9--" Silken claimed ownership just as the five guys in coveralls said, "No, she's number 1!!" Silken gracefully said thank you and turned to her meal. As I ate the rest of my nondescript quiche, I imagined questions I would ask her if I had the gumption to interrupt her double cheeseburger, and all that came to mind was, "What's it like being normal?" I'm not entirely sure precisely what I meant by that, but it's just what came to mind...

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Drunk Eddy and his buddies were sitting behind us at the Keg in Edmonton last weekend. We were taking out our friends Jamie, Stephanie, and their son Ethan for a fine ol' meal and putting the tab on our $100 gift card from Brian's Aunt Joan. During the course of our meal, the gang at the table behind us made a succession of noises including dropped glasses on the floor, knife jabbing into the table (eek!), a few swear words here and there, and over-the-top drunk-hugging of the poor waiter serving them. To be honest, their noises didn't really bother me much because I was concentrating on Jamie and Steph's stories, as well as trying to overcome a short burst of heartburn. Anyway, at the end of our meal, the waiter came to our table with our bill and said that the fellow behind us in the red ball cap, Eddy, felt that no one should have to put up with their nonsense during dinner out, so he put $50 toward our tab. That combined with the gift card meant that we left the Keg with $15.28 extra in our pocket, but we didn't get out totally scott free; Brian went to Eddy's table to say thanks, and Eddy grabbed Brian's hand and in an attempt to say something without slurring, he began to cough and sputter right onto Brian's death-gripped hand. "Uh... thanks."

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The day after the Keg incident, Brian and I had the pleasure of introducing our mom's to each other in Thorsby, AB. On the drive through the country back to Edmonton, we stopped the car on a side road to get a better look at the glowing night sky. I've never seen aurora borealis like that before! Wow, the whole sky was dancing in green in a glorious show that seemed like it was just for us.

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Now that Brian and I are back in Nelson, I'm about to start a new job. Yep, I got myself some work! Yippee! I'll be a lab technician for a wildlife genetics company in town. My first day is tomorrow, so I'll let you all know how it goes. I'm really excited.