Fortunate Son

1) I might argue that the most intelligent thing that I did in my life was to have a child (for the sake of this discussion, let's call him Julian).

2) I could also argue that the most intelligent thing that I did in my life was to marry the right woman (for the sake of this discussion, let's call her Wendy).

I couldn't have had #1 without #2, but it's not fair to number, or rank, important events or people in my life, though Blair Cummings is #3 and Ken Appleby is #4.

Let's just say that I've made some clever choices, had great luck, and I wouldn't do anything differently if I did it all again.

Happy 21st birthday, Julian....from your fortunate father.

Go Ahead...Pimp My Ride

You just know this car didn't come from the Mercedes factory in Germany wearing that coat! Germans don't make luxury cars that look like this. They only make items that are black, grey, white and/or polished steel. You never saw any orange Messerschmitts, did you? Case closed, almost.

This is surely the car of a very successful and clever pimp, or an Italian, or David Geffen. You might say that the owner of this four wheeled tulip had a bright idea for a car. He succeeded. I could see this car from a quarter of a mile away. It's the only thing I've seen in Toronto that's been brighter than my new sneakers. It screams 'look at me', which I did. As soon as I snapped my picture someone else stepped up and took a picture.

I'd say the owner got what he wanted, assuming it was a he. Hmmm....I wonder if Paris Hilton was in town??

Boundless Imagination

Are you getting the sense that I wander around the University of Toronto with time on my hands? Good, because I am. I see much in my travels.

One thing that has caught my eye is a promotional campaign for the UofT itself. Featured on posters scattered throughout the university are names and faces of UofT graduates who have done great or notable things. The theme is 'boundless'.

There are those who have discovered medical breakthrough treatments. There are cutting edge scientists, philosophers, titans of business, and entertainment industry leaders. Heck, there's even one celebrating a New Brunswick singer who's famous for being famous!

I think there should be one for me. I stand alone in my field (not unlike a scarecrow). Stay tuned....

Alternate Route Yields Bronze Galoot

Wendy and I walk from our condo to her office every morning. We follow Maitland Street westbound crossing Jarvis and Church streets. We then jaywalk across Yonge and continue West until we face hurricane force winds at Bay street.

The nature of the Bay street corridor and its buildings creates what's known as the Venturi Effect. In essence, wind is funneled between buildings at high speed, often making life unpleasant. Bay street usually feels five degrees colder than the rest of our walk.

We find reprieve in Queen's Park as we wander though acres of grass, trees and humongous piles of dog shit. It's quite lovely.

The other day we took an alternate route, a slightly more northerly trajectory. It was refreshing. We discovered an entirely new portion of UofT that was unknown to us. Speaking of unknown, we traipsed past a statue of a ponderous Northrop Frye sitting on a park bench. Lovely sculpture. Seeing Northy sitting on the bench brought home the reality that we know nothing of Mr.Frye. Nothing.

I still know nothing about him but I intend to do some research. What is it about him that warranted a sculpture? I knew he was some sort of a writer, but why was he bronze-worthy? To quote that other Candian literary great, Jian Ghomeshi, 'to be continued'....

Toronto: Even The Sidewalks Aren't Safe

Maybe it's the mid-winter blahs. Maybe Toronto is finally getting to me. I'm not one hundred percent sure what's got my knickers in a knot but it would appear that I'm starting to max out on city living.

One culprit that's 99% certain to get me riled is people (behaving badly) on the sidewalk. It seems that I'm forever jumping out of the way of people who are walking blindly with their heads down while texting. Or I'm avoiding people who seem to think that the sidewalk is theirs and theirs alone. Things are about to change in Toronto, and I'm the (mad) man to do it.

You've heard of road rage? I'm suffering from sidewalk rage!

I can live with my condition...suffering in silence. Figure the odds. Or I can do something about it. So far I've come up with two remedies, both of which I've proven to work in clinical trials:

1) stand my ground. I decided that I was no longer going to 'bow down' to rude walkers. Yesterday morning I was walking along the sidewalk with Wendy. A woman wearing headphones (strike one!) walked out of her apartment, along her walkway to the edge of the sidewalk, and proceeded to step directly in front of me (strike two!) and then to walk in front of me. I made the conscious decision not to slow down but to keep my pace. The result? I stepped on the back of her boot. I said 'I'm sorry' because I didn't purposely try to de-laminate her boot, but I wasn't truly sorry. On the contrary, I was quite delighted.

2) go to Yorkville. Yorkville is an other-worldly place where people compete to be seen. They liberally apply fashion, in blazing Van Gogh strokes, upon their bodily canvasses. It's true of men and women alike, often indistinguishable without a pawing of the nethers. Allow me illuminate with an example...

I was walking through Yorkville yesterday on my way to Whole Foods in search of the holy grail of Moroccan cooking, the preserved lemon. When life gives you lemons, make a tagine (old Berber proverb). As I was walking along the sidewalk I glanced ahead, about 150 feet, to see a creature so bizarre that I had no idea if it was man or beast. It was white, or off-white, resembling a mid-range polar bear on its hind legs. It also had yeti-like qualities (winter fur, perfectly camouflauged for hiding in snow banks....then pouncing). At the same time it also had many characteristics normally found in sports team mascots: large, round, undeterminable exo-genitalia.

I had my camera with me but wasn't sure if it was prudent to snap an image. I opted for not. As the creature approached I could see that it was probably about 70 years old with blonde hair that would have made Gwyneth Paltrow gween. Not bad for a man except, in fact, it was a woman. It wasn't until it got about ten feet from me that I realized that it was she-like. For the record, it was not a transvestite....this time. And I want you to note in the accompanying image to this story that I needed Johnny Winter, a Stormtrooper's helmet and an albino Sasquatch to emulate her look.

The sad reality is that this woman had gone to great lengths, and expense, to look this way. Quite frankly, there are a lot of dog owners in Toronto and I don't know how she managed to walk down the street without being mauled. My animal instincts told me to either flee or fight her to the death. I chose to flee...not sure how a dog would have dealt with her.

It's a strange old world here in Toronto. You can let it get you down or you can step on its boots and laugh in its face (or, at least, behind its back...which I did heartily).

It's a bird, it's a plane....it's Super Van! Whoa!!

I've been looking for the perfect windsurfingmobile for some time now. I have to be considerate to the needs of others, so I haven't gone out and bought whatever I've wanted. I've seen many vehicles that would have suited me, but not Wendy.

Well, the search is over.

The Superwoman van addresses Wendy's need to be recognized for her superhuman teaching abilities. For me, I just need something in which I can sleep snuggled up to my windsurfers.

This van is it! Sadly, it's not for sale but everyone has a price....even the other Superwoman. That van is going to be my crib tonight. I'll use whatever means possible.

Toronto At Night - Part Deux

Another view of Toronto at night. On this particular night there was a bit of moisture in the air and it seemed to have the effect of enhancing or magnifying the city lights.

Quite lovely, but I still prefer a lake view, be it Lake Ontario or the mighty Washademoak.

Toronto At Night

The difference between surviving in Toronto and prospering, for me, may well depend upon the view. I'm very fortunate to be living in a condo that never disappoints my eyes. The evening view can be quite magical at times.

Pope Emancipattus the First

Pope Freeman (aka Pope Emancipattus the First).

Though it may seem like a ridiculous suggestion, Freeman as Pope could work. He could bring the Catholic church into the 21st century with progressive thinking, and take photography back to the 20th with a holy ban on digital cameras.

Let the white smoke roll out of the chimney.....

The Allure Of Loblaws

You might think that I shop at Loblaw's for the free milk, but it's really for the music. This morning I was grabbing a few items and I couldn't help but notice the music blaring over the store-wide sound system. Are you ready for it?

Opera! Yes, opera before 10:00 a.m. I thought to myself 'Wendy would like this'.

The next song to follow the operatic aria was an odd choice. I might have expected another operatic selection or, at the very least, something classical....but no.

It was the song 'She Moves In Her Own Way' by the Kooks. A song by a band that I enjoy. Weird...opera then alt rock. It's worth mentioning that I was in Winners just before I went to Loblaw's and they were playing 'Born This Way' by Lady Gaga.

I suppose music makes us happy and keeps us shopping, but seriously...opera then alt rock. Hmmmm? What can we read into this?

Milking The System

He didn't look like a shit disturber, at least not on the surface. In fact he looked almost meek, like a puff of wind might set his sails for another port (say, Mac's Milk). Looks, as they say, can be deceiving. He arrived as a pirate and left with the booty.

To think, the drama unfolded over a carton of milk. At Loblaw's. Without swords. No swashbuckling, simply an expert knowledge of consumer warfare.

As I stood in the checkout line with my seventy dollars worth of groceries, the clean shaven Blackbeard ahead of me looted the Loblaw's to the tune of $5.59. Arrrrrrrrr.

Few people know that a grocery store is obliged to give the consumer free goods when they offer something for sale at one price and it rings in at a higher price (note: this applies to less-than-$10 items, different rules apply for big ticket purchases). My pirate friend knew this only too well. He had only one item to purchase....a carton of milk. The cashier rang it in and the cash register stated that $5.65 was owing. The pirate knew this would happen. In his hand he had the UPC tag from the milk cooler. It said Natrel 2% milk, 2 litres $5.59. Arrrrrrr. He brought the discrepancy to the attention of the cashier who in turn called the manager. Bad-a-bing, bad-a-boom, the pirate got his milk for free.

Does the story end here? No. I, too, happened to have a carton of the Natrel milk. Did I get mine for free? Yup. And, the couple behind me had two cartons of it. They would get theirs for free too, as long as the manager hadn't changed the code in the computer.

Life is good when you're Scottish. Life is better when you hang out with pirates. Auch arrrrrrrrrr.

Losers, Winners and Wieners

There's little doubt that I've found some great clothes at ridiculous prices at Winners in Toronto. The sleeves are long enough, the prices are Scots-worthy, and the fashion more than acceptable. I've been to all the Winners south of Bloor (SOB) in Toronto. I believe there are seven stores SOB, or something like that.

In Fredericton there is one Winners, but the selection there has been somewhat lacking. I often felt like a loser at the Freddy Beach Winners. To be frank, I felt like a wiener when my shopping forays were unsuccessful, so I started to call Winners 'wieners'.

Initially I referred to the Toronto stores as Wieners too, but my successful track record made me question whether or not I was being fair to Winners.

The point became moot last week as I wandered along Bloor Street West and spotted the Home Hardware store in my picture. To be clear, there is a Winners and there is a Wieners, and I shan't mix the two up in the future.

Another Time Lapse- The View From Our Condo

Another time lapse video shot from our condo. I knew that snow was in the forecast so I thought I'd see how it would look. The snow came late and it was light but it's still kind of interesting.

T.O.Comics

Look! Up in the sky....

It's a bird. It's a plane. It's.....

Well, it's actually a bird and a plane. No sign of Superman. Wait! Who is that Clark Kentish man behind the camera?

Editor's Note: though the man behind the camera may look Clark Kentish with his funky new city glasses, he acts decidedly more Clark Griswaldish. Isn't that right, Russ?


The Mighty Honda Civic

It's not uncommon for me to exclaim 'wow' when I see a flashy car here in Toronto. Typically I'm ogling a Lotus, Maserati or Ford Focus wagon. The other day a car stopped me dead in my tracks. Amazingly, it was a vintage Honda Civic.


Modern Honda Civics have become popular with street racing punks, their parents, dirtballs, Chiangstas, entomologists, and Colin Moore. More often than not, these 'punks' take a car that their parents would drive and they pimp them: tinted windows, low profile tires, Christmas lighting, custom exhausts, spoilers (so apt), and the ubiquitous 13 000 watt stereo with woofers the size of spare tires.

It's hard to believe that the Honda Civic sailed to North America in 1972 looking like the car that you see in my picture. Sharing design attributes with the Tim Bit (1976), they both became perennial best sellers in Canada.

I wonder, in 1972, if people looked at this car and said 'we've got a winner here, folks'. Clearly, it was a Cinderella moment in the annals of auto history, because this ugly cygnet has yet to have its swan song. Honda is still pumping them out by the millions (they're more stylish now).

To put the Civic's success in context we need only to look at what the competition offered at the time. There was the Tobleronian AMC Gremlin (1970). Gone! And the perpetually eleven months pregnant AMC Pacer (1975) that just never delivered. Gone! You know, I'm just not seeing those cars on the street anymore, but if I did, I'd say 'wow'!

At Ease With Socrates

I wish that I had said 'the only thing I know...is that I don't know anything', but I don't know enough about philosophy to be that clever.

This might just be the greatest quote of all times. After reading it, it just loops in my mind endlessly, sort of like a Cyndi Lauper song except markedly less annoying.

Can you think of a better quote? For that matter, can you think of a Cyndi Lauper song?

Mammone

Unless you're Italian, 'mammone' won't mean much to you. It's one simple little Italian word that means 'mama's boy'. Most Italian boys are mammones, and age doesn't seem to be much of a factor.

To make my point, here's our history with the word 'mammone'. A few years ago, Wendy performed in an opera in Philadelphia. She had a colleague who was from Italy. He was the one who kept talking about Pamela Anderson, except in his very limited English he called her Pam-Aye-Lah An-Dewr-Sohn. He also liked to talk about Keyed Rawk, go figure.

That point is irrelevant, really. What was truly interesting was the fact that he was a world class bass, he drove a Ferrari, and yet he lived with his mama. For whatever reason, we started calling Julian 'mammone'. For whatever reason, he didn't seem to mind.

You can imagine our surprise, while walking along Wellesley Street in Toronto, to find a company called Mammone. Mammone Disposal Systems. I'm unclear whether Julian would hire them to dispose of his mother, or whether his mother would hire them to dispose of the mammone.

It really doesn't matter....I just hope he gets a Ferrari.

Better Than Haggis

Scotland has made many contributions toward the betterment of the world. Let's just name a few:

- golf (admittedly, a weak start to my list)
- short, drunk, often incomprehensible people (shares this claim to fame with Ireland)
- bagpipes
- me Mootha
- whisky
- penicillin
- Sean Connery
- haggis
- the Proclaimers
- whisky (worth mentioning twice).

You'd think that Scotland could rest on its benevolent laurels, but apparently not. No, it's now giving Toronto a bar called the Tilted Kilt. I'm a wee bit suspicious that the bar may not be authentically Scottish, so I'm thinking about dropping in for a wee look around.

I assure you that this mission will be based on rigorous scientific observation. I shall observe the use of tartan, the quality of the whisky, the authenticity of the music. And there's one other thing I'm forgetting. Now what was it....? Ah, yes, the lassies!

P.S. Quite frankly I'd be surprised if a single kilt tilter could find auld Aberdeen on a map, let alone bake a beguiling buttery rowie.