The Pursuit Of Happiness - Ultimate Windsurfingmobile Edition

Don't worry, I'm not about to buy this faded dandelion. It's just one of many vehicles that have been considered for  'ultimate windsurfingmobile' status.

Think of my windsurfingmobile quest in the same way that you'd think of a birdwatcher hoping for a glossy ibis sighting. Sure, you want to find one, but you're not actually planning to bring it home! The thrill is in the chase.

I probably shouldn't use the word 'chase' when talking about this luscious lemon. I don't think it could chase anything, let alone the wind. It might be able to overtake a moped, but not with a headwind or up a hill.

So why is it a contender? Quite simply it meets most of my criteria:
1) It could hold a lot of windsurfing gear.
2) I could sleep in it, maybe even with Wendy (at least for one night).
3) It's affordable.
4) It has nice windows.
5) It's just a tad outrageous.

This van has it all. It laughs in the face of danger (which it would encounter every time it was shifted into drive). It's delightfully irreverent, and that's how I wish people would view me. Shouldn't your vehicle be a reflection of you? I'm a rebel. Yes...rebel without a clutch!

Okay, so I'm not a rebel. I drive a Ford Focus station wagon. I have used a Swiffer on multiple occasions. I  hand wash my dishes wearing rubber gloves. <Sigh>. Can you not see why the ultimate windsurfingmobile has its allure? It speaks directly to my inner Marlboro man, but without the smelly cigarettes.

I see the ultimate windsurfingmobile parked on a bluff. The evening light is low and warm. Below me the salty ocean settles down after a day of thunderous surf. A fading breeze blows through my hair.

Hair?

Okay, so I need a van and a wig. <Sigh>.

Cambridge-Narrows - April Pretending To Be July

April 29: sunny, windless, 21 degrees. Ahhhh...heaven, except for the windless part!

It's so nice to be here. I took the SUP out for its inaugural paddle for 2013. Felt great. I paddled up to Steve Johanson's place, then back along to the Akerley's cottage where I had a chat with Keith and his brother Myles. I then paddled to Robena's before returning home.

Glorious day.

The Annapolis Valley

Four images from a recent frolic in the Annapolis Valley with Gup and Andy. All images were taken at a Ducks Unlimited site, Miner's Marsh, in Kentville.

Shadowy Figures

A Headless Photographer?

I'm a little teapot...

Fat people must love shadows. Your shadow is almost always long and lean in the evening. At least your legs and doak always seem to be thinner.

Political Correctness Police Probe...

Am I even allowed to say 'fat people' these days or must I say 'those blessed with ample lipids'?

Exonerated.

Regardless, the only way that my legs could possibly appear thinner is during the waning hours of sunlight, when my shadow takes on the appearance of a stilted clown. A headless clown in this image.

Though shadows exaggerate my legs, they sometimes compress the top end. I look rather short and stout in the other cropped image, wouldn't you say?

Shadows can be great fun. It's how we used to amuse ourselves in the evening, before Wheel Of Fortune hit the airwaves and turned us all into mindless vegetables.

Dumpster Diving 101

The Scottish are known to be thrifty. The British are known to be 'collectors'. Canadians aren't known for much. I'm half Scottish, half English, and all Canadian. This is perfect because it allows me to dumpster dive without remorse. It's a genetic flaw...out of my control.

The pine bed frame in this picture was sitting next to a dumpster in my Toronto condo building, waiting to be carried to its death. I saved it.

I am....Ian Varty, dumpster diver.

And proud of it. In all likelihood the former owner(s) of this bed probably found that it didn't suit his/his or her tastes anymore, so they placed it next to the dumpster in the hope that some entrepreneurial, self motivated, semi-Scottish garbage hawk would find it.

Then along comes Ian.

The bed is now in Julian's room and it looks like a million bucks, but cost exactly one million less. Victory is mine! A celebratory meal of haggis and mead is on tonight's menu, if I can find a haggis in a dumpster (the most logical place to find one).

In May I Paddle. May I Paddle In April?

Gordon Lightfoot wrote about clouds like that....think 'Edmund Fitzgerald'.

Dave, Alison and Enya paddle towards Hammond River #2 covered bridge.

Yes, there is a Hammond River #2 bridge as well as #3, but no #1 so far as I 

could tell.

Now this is Canada! It's mid-April and there's still ice along the shady banks of the river. There's a red canoe and one orange umiak (okay, so it's a kayak and I'm into it like an Inuit). The forecast daytime high was to be +6 but it was only +4 when we launched at 9:30 a.m.

Ffffffffffffff.......cold.

The Hammond River. It's the only river in New Brunswick named after an organ. Wait a minute! I forgot about Wurlitzer Creek!! Kidding.

We launched at a covered bridge known as Hammond River #3. One could presume there are others, but like Gate #3 at the Fredericton airport, don't assume anything logical. Our launch site was along the Damascus Road in Smithtown.

Damascus Road. Hmmm...doesn't sound terribly Canadian, eh? Are you  serious, Ian? Or Syrian, Ian? Blah blah blah.

And Hammond. What or who is a Hammond? I did some digging in the New Brunswick Provincial Archives (on-line) and here are the results...

William Francis Ganong identified the Maliseet name for the Hammond River as Nuhwig'ewauk: named for Sir Andrew Snape Hamond (1738-1828), lieutenant-governor of Nova Scotia from 1780-1782 and a land owner in area:  in 1866 Hammond River was a farming community with approximately 52 resident families: in 1871 the community and surrounding district had a population of 300: in 1898 Hammond River had 1 post office, 2 stores, 1 tannery, 1 cheese factory, 1 church and a population of 100: Hammond River is now within the town of Quispamsis, a small community owned by Randy and Jennifer Wilson.

Therein ends our almost true history lesson for today, kiddies. Class dismissed. Grab your paddles and get out there.

P.S. re: William Francis Ganong. Mmmm...Ganong's.

Cool Hand Juke

With the encroachment of Alzheimers upon me Mootha, it's sometimes not easy to get the reaction from her that's desired. My best clowning around sometimes falls flat (tough crowd!). There is one exception. There's one interaction that always gets results.

Question: what would that be?

Answer: a cold hand to the cheek.

Inevitably, when I come from the outdoors into Pine Grove and hold me Mootha's hand, or put my hand on her face, I get the reaction that you see in this picture. It has a 'severe' look to it but she usually chuckles afterwards.

It works in both directions too...hot or cold. The other day I placed a perhaps-too-warm heated blanket on her and she immediately said 'oh my god!'.

And while I'm telling Mootha stories....something funny happened yesterday. I was sitting with Mootha, holding her hand with fingers entwined. She lifted both of our hands up to her lips and started kissing them. The great hilarity came when she said 'How'd 'ya like that?', especially since she was kissing her own hand, and not mine.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Windsurfing Again!

April 19, 2013...the first windsurf of the year. It felt good, even though I had very little right arm grip strength. Nevertheless I had some nice jumps and conditions were 9.5/10 for this time of year.

I rigged a 5.9 and used my 106 litre JP All-Ride. The air temperature was in the high teens...spectacular for mid April. The wind was a bit gusty but about 30km/h on average.

Joining me on the waters of the mighty Washademoak was none other than local windsurfing celebrity Robert Grant.

2013 windsurfing season has officially begun. Yippee!!

The Barn In Harvey Station: On Being 100

What's it like to be 100 years old? I couldn't tell you because I'm only halfway there. There are a few residents in my mom's nursing home who could tell you what it's like to be 100. If I'm not mistaken, they're all in wheelchairs.

In contrast, the barn which stands on Wendy's parents' property is still standin' (yeah, yeah, yeah) after 100 years. It was built in 1913 and it has the classic good looks of something built in the glory days of farm construction.

That barn survived World War One and World War Two. It survived one hundred Harvey Station winters. It survived gales and blizzards. It survived the Cold War, the disco era and it survived 11 years of eTalk. Pretty impressive, I'd say.........that eTalk has lasted 11 years.

I wonder what the barn would say if it could talk? It might say 'hey, Paul, how come I didn't get a Super Roof™'. It might say 'looks like Dick Corey has some bicycles for sale across the road, better call Ian in case there's a CCM Mustang'. Or, it might simply say 'moo' or 'hay!', that's probably what it heard for its first few decades of use. I'm not sure when it stopped being a functioning barn, but I think it hasn't seen any cattle for over half its life. That's the truth. For once, my story involves no bullsh__!

Ducking Vultures

I spent my last day in Toronto photographing turkey vultures as they sailed past my 20th storey condo windows. The vultures arrived in Toronto in late March, though those who practice law are there year-round. The vulture is an interesting bird to watch, or be watched by. They're constantly riding the wind and grabbing updrafts, all the while looking below for dead meat. Sometimes they'll settle for the bloodless victims of Ben Mulroney (local broadcaster and vampire), but in general they prefer roadkill.

Upon arriving home in New Brunswick I was greeted by a pair of wood ducks who have shown interest in the nesting cavity in the oak tree in front of my house. They were checking it out last year too. It's a definite sign that spring is underway.

I Don't Wanna Live In This Boom Town No More

The year was 1992. It was May 30, I believe. As I drove out of Toronto, heading for New Brunswick with all my Earthly possessions, the radio blared out a song called Boomtown by a musician named Andrew Cash. I actually requested the song from the local radio station, CFNY. I sang along as Toronto faded away in my rear view mirror. I was happy to leave.

Tomorrow I'm doing the same thing, in a seasonal sense. Toronto is more of a Boomtown now than it was in 1992. Take a look at the image that I borrowed. It's a simulation of all of the new condo developments that are proposed (or already started) to be built by 2020. The boom in this town is hard to fathom, and I Don't Wanna Live In This Boomtown No More! Or at least not for the spring/summer/fall. I suspect I'll be ready to come back in November. It wasn't that bad, truth be told, but I am a country boy at heart. Country Roads...take me home. How ironic that it's the 401 that will take me home...the least 'country road' imaginable.

So why didn't Andrew Cash want to live in this boomtown no more? Let's take a look at the lyrics to  Boomtown. For me they're as relevant now as they were then.

Looking at a shop display of fancy james from the south of Spain
A Lady says "Ma'am can I help you" I just say NO
I walk back out again, into the morning rain
The Smell of MOCHA CREME on my brain
I put my hands into my pockets and what do I find?
Just two cold hands kinda looks like mine

I don't wanna live in this Boomtown no more!
I don't wanna judge my life by what I can't afford
I don't wanna live in this Boomtown
It's busting down my door {Chorus}

The Landlord called last night, he said he's selling off our home
He says he's sorry but neighbourhood has changed
They'll renovate this old dump and put us out with last weeks's JUNK
Some trendy folks gonna have a new place to play
Joey take me away from here
Give me your hand and wipe my tears
This is no place for us my dear

Chorus

They're closing down the Old Shops
The Air is filled with groovy talk
of high class Art for condos on the way
Joey I spend all my days looking at these shop displays
Sometimes, it makes me feel so bad

Just For Laughs - Toronto Edition

Wendy and I were 'entertaining' two friends last night. The two 'victims' were Will L. and Cara B., both of them alumni of CNU (Cambridge-Narrows University). They both, at various times, have been to Cambridge-Narrows to work with Wendy. They have also both been to St.Andrews to attend Wendy's opera workshop.

Will and Cara have the ability to laugh, and not just regular laughter, but hide the crystal laughter. Plus they're always more than willing to go along with my pranks/ideas/artistic concepts. When the Rhino showed up at the party, they were quite obliging to partake in a photo shoot. Needless to say, the Rhino was a big hit.

It's nice to have gifted friends who take their music seriously, but not themselves. They are a reflection of Dame Wendy and me. Wendy, it goes without saying, takes her music seriously. You know where that leaves me...in the corner playing with my action figures.

Reflections On Toronto

On the off chance of jinxing myself prematurely because I still must endure three more days in Toronto, I'd like to publicly state that my time in Toronto went better than expected. Why? The main reason is that I enjoyed spending time with my wife. I enjoy being married and it felt like I was. I also enjoyed the many social engagements in which we were immersed. Toronto has provided a change of scenery from Cambridge-Narrows. Is it better than Cambridge-Narrows? No. Not even close, but having contrast in your life is a good thing. It makes you appreciate the difference between good and great.

 

I learned in Philosophy class, about a hundred years ago, that you really can't have something called 'heaven' without a contrasting place. Let's call it 'Minto'. Kidding! It's actually called hell. What would heaven be without hell. What would Cameron Diaz be without Rosie O'Donnell? These are extreme examples often used by extreme people. Anyway, you get the point.

 

It's good to have variety in your life. Though the apple fritters at the farmer's market in London (ON) are spectacularly good, a daily diet of them would lessen their impact/enjoyment. I love Cambridge-Narrows and the life I have there, but I think I'll love it even more now. On Wednesday I'll unstrap the friendly cilice that is Toronto and I'll make my pilgrimage back to gawd's country.

 

Gawd! I can't believe nothing has changed!!

 

Oh, but things will have changed....for me.

Men Are From Mars. And Bars. And Mars Bars. Mmmmm...Mars Bars.

Hello, darling. Yes, I'm talking to you, my delicious little cupcake!

Okay, so I stopped into a cafe the other day with the sole intent of having a coffee and perhaps a conversation with a human. Instead I found myself whispering 'I love you' to a cupcake. A mini cupcake to be precise.

The cafe had a fresh pan of Mars bar cupcakes, something I've never had before. They were tiny, like the better half of a two-bite brownie. I couldn't resist, so I ordered one. They had a moist, brownie-like base, some chocolate fudgesque icing and sliver of Mars. Out of this world!

Bet ya can't eat just one!

I asked the barista-bakista where to get a pan so I could make my own. I was given directions to a Chinatown kitchen supply store, and I promptly went there, but not before having two more with my morning coffee. Note to Mark Messier: shut up!

The Geographical Context Of Organs

Relax, I saw this poster in the music faculty building at UofT. Had I seen this posted in my gaybourhood, well, things could have been very different.

In the music faculty building an organ performance likely means that a student who studies organ is giving a recital. The music building is currently plastered with year end recital posters. A lot of the recitals are for singers and many are for instrumentalists. At least one is for an organist.

I wasn't really aware that you could study organ at UofT. I've never heard anyone play one there. I haven't seen one either. You might say that the music faculty organs don't get much exposure.

A scant mile away, in the gaybourhood, the organ appears to be celebrated. I've seen posters for a 'men's sex maze', whatever that is? There are huge billboards for men's underwear (tighties, but not boring whities) with rock solid male models relaxing on granite outcroppings (poor choice of words, I know). There's more than just two dimensional signs, I should mention. I can purchase my groceries at Loblaw's and within 150 feet walk past the window of a mannish men's club where a female impersonator is 'performing' in the window, likely lip-synching along to musical theatre ditties.

Anything you can do, I can do better. Not in this case.

The clubs in the gaybourhood have very organic names like Woody's, Sailor, Flash and ZippersZ. It's funny that the gaybourhood clubs are so suggestive by name. It's certainly not that way in the hetero world. We have boring bar names like Cheers, the Football Factory, Wayne Gretzky's, Hurricane's Roadhouse and a slew of Irish pubs with all-too-forgettable-names. So forgettable, in fact, I have to make them up: Dublin O'Nothing's, Paddy's On The Wagon, and Scrotum O'Malley's.

Organ performance. That all you need to know. Next topic, please.

Elephant Sized Humour

This will be my last posting that contains a Far Side cartoon. It's not that I've been threatened with legal action by Gary Larson's lawyers, it's just that I can't keep 'borrowing' his cartoons and posting them. They are his, and not mine. I need to create my own thoughts and images, but his are just so brilliant and funny.

I urge you, go now to Chapters. Buy his Far Side books and laugh yourself sick.

Today's cartoon was my favourite from the book that I happened to pick up at the coffee shop last week. Everything about it is perfect.

No Escaping...The Rhino

You may have noticed a bit of a rhino theme as of late. I'll confess that I have been actively pursuing all-things-rhino. Why? Why not??

Yesterday the rhino found me. I was in the neighbourhood of College and Spadina searching for an ink cartridge for Professor Nielsen's Canon inkjet printer. I managed to find one just west of Spadina. There seems to be a glut of computer stores there, no doubt catering to the university population.

As I was walking homeward, east on College Street, I glanced backwards for no apparent reason other than the fact that my head is typically on a swivel most of the time. Think 'wise old owl' without the wise part. I'm more of a curious middle-aged turkey. Looking back I saw a monstrous mural. Of course it was a giant blue rhino painting on a brick wall between Chinatown and the University of Toronto...the rhino's natural habitat. What could be more natural?

But seriously....

Why there's a rhino mural in that location is beyond me. I'd love to know how and why it happened, but I'll probably never know.

Rhinos In Popular Culture

You see, it's not just me and Spidey who are enthralled by all-things-rhino. A rhino even appears in Gary Larson's Far Side cartoons.

Rhinos: they're large, they're lovable and they're everywhere.

Everyone should have one. Have you got yours yet?

Mr.Cropper Gone Wild

Is this childish? Yes! Nevertheless it's a good reminder for those of you who are into photography to compose or crop your images carefully.

This image was taken on Yonge Street near Lawrence Avenue. Sometime when you're in Toronto take a walk around Chinatown...that place is a gold mine if you're looking for signs that don't translate so well, or are open to misinterpretation.

Don't forget to check out menu translations as well, they're even better. I read about a place in Chinatown that makes a great tenderlion steak. That would make an excellent mane course!