There's perfect roads for driving, and such a thing as too much perfume.

Recently, I was driving with the top down on The Jeep. A slightly breeze blowing west east, sunny and not a bad day. Cruising around this metropolis can be done in a reasonably short amount of time and at a reasonable speed (50km/h unless otherwise.....you get the idea). So, a person, a reasonable  person, would expect to maybe smell the poplars blowing, the fresh cut grass, even that early fall kinda musty smell...not unpleasant, not overpowering, just sort of natural.

A reasonable person would not expect to be driving at 50km/h, pass a pedestrian walking on the sidewalk 10 to 15 feet away, crosswind and be overwhelmed with perfume from said pedestrian. I guess it would have been mildly tolerable if it had been an isolated incident, but apparently the french whore festival was in town and it was everywhere.

Really? Really. Apparently it's all the rage here. Perhaps, just perhaps, they're covering the eau de booze from the night before, but showering usually works.

It's not attractive. Its not an attractant. It has just become a repellent. Not even a bee could stand up to that. I realise from time to time I have overdosed myself with cologne, it happens, usually when I'm not paying attention, but I will attempt to fix the problem.

Just sayin'. It's just not fucking done that way....It's just not.

Vegens, vegetarians....homeopathy for the food-challenged

I had the "pleasure" of working with a vegetarian yesterday. It was fine until he made his thoughts known. It didn't go well from there. We were, correction I was, driving past a field of cattle, lots of calfs, male and female, lots of cows and a bull (sort of a surly looking big bugger too...). I commented at the calfs frolicking in the field. "Hey now, stop that. Walk, don't run....stay tender." You'd think I shot his dog. After vociferously letting his view known about how that was mean, blah, blah, blah...we shouldn't eat them, yada, yada,yada, of course I couldn't resist starting on something that went with "especially veal, which obviously these aren't...they're running about". He had probably crucified my with nails made of carrots given the chance, so I continued to listen to diatribe with an ever growing grin. He said "how'd you like to be locked in pen unable to move and then at a young age taken out and killed". Well, it sort of went like this....

"I have driven cattle, branded cattle, castrated cattle (even been shown castrators by a father of a girl I once dated but that's another story). They are stubborn, stupid, mean and ornery creatures and it's not a surprise we eat them. It called the food chain, I'm on it, reasonably high at the top. You can tell, my eyes are in the front of my head, not sticking out the sides weary of predators. You sit there and tell me it's mean, etc for us to eat them. Why? Really. Why is it mean? They were raised for food. That is their lot in life. To provide sustenance, and man being generally lazy keeps them handy, because it's a lot like work to go out and find them, thus we have a fence. They didn't have an aspiring career in law or politics, no forth coming education at Bovine U. There purpose is to feed MOST of us that enjoy diving into a tasty morsel or two of red meat.

They don't look for a way out of there fence, they're not banging on the gate with a tin cup mooing to let us be free". They're not organised Martin Luther King-like to have the free the leather bound citizens. Nope. They were born fenced, live fenced and will perish that way, providing me an additional option from which to feast. And never fear, they won't kill them all....gosh that doesn't make business sense."

I was given a queried, annoyed look. "What!?"

"Goodness no, lad. Cows make money!! Cows have calfs, calfs are worth money. Calf s grow the herd. Cows grow up. Bulls grow up. Cows make more cows and so on. Those bulls are typically what your chopping on at the grocery store, well....maybe not you, but some of us. We only eat the boys mostly, until the cows get older and more useless.."

"what!!?"

"Well, cows have calfs. If three cows have calfs the herd is now six. and so on. You can do the math in your own time. How many cows, given one calf per cow all getting preggers would it take to make a herd of 40.......well?"

"uhhh...I don't really think..."

"It takes 20, try to get into the spirit of the conversation, you started it. How many bulls does it take to make 20 cows pregnant?"

"I don't know" now reasonably disgusted, but no where to go.

"well, assuming verile and young and in the mood which they typically are, lets go with 1"

"whatever"

"So, assuming 20 calfs, bringing the herd to 40 and a profitable year for Farmer Bill, his cows produce only 5 of those calfs as male. He might keep one if his stud is getting on, but the others go to market, some get picked up as a stud, some really go from market to market, dressed and cut and wrapped in best brown paper or plastic wrap and styro if there isn't a butcher shop. from there they hit my grill."

"I don't want to not recognise your viewpoint. To each there own, eat whatever you want I could care less but don't point your finger at me. Your just as bad."

"I don't kill animals"

"I suppose, in the common reasonable viewpoint not. But, there's always a but, what about broccoli and carrots and lettuce and all the other veges?"

"what/"

"you kill them, they don't leap onto your plate with the snap of a finger do they?"

"they're not alive"

"no? So growing veges is not the development of a seed into a living thing. Do they not use air and water? are they not carbon based? Do they not have a maturity, and are they not young? Do you not pick or cut them in their prime? Do we not distinguish inferior ones from superior ones? Do you not eat the best ones and discard the inferior? "

"yeah, but it isn't a life as in a person"

"we aren't and haven't been talking about people. We are talking about moo-cows and carrots. People even have labelled the tasty ones as babies. I didn't make that up. Baby carrots are labelled that way in the store..labelled BABY CARROTS !!! Oh what a tragedy...baby killing."

"but they don't feel it. no feelings. no pain. no suffering. Your..."

"Do you know that? Have you had a chat with a cow or bull and found them to be morose and depressed? Sad about his or her impending date with the plate? I haven't. Haven't talked to a broccoli either. Think about the all the baby broccoli without parents suddenly, all the forlorn lettuce suddenly having the kids torn from them roots and all. I don't care what you think. Believe what you want. Eat what you want. But don't task me about wanting the cows to stay tender...I like Beef. I like Pork. I like whatever. I like veggies too."

"Whatever..."

"Your probably a conspiracy theorist too..."

"well, not really..."

"Wait, we'll get to that, I just want to bring up one more thing up. Suppose your right. Suppose there's a news flash all across the land and everyone immediately stops eating beef, or meat for that matter. Then what? What do we do with the critters then? Open the gates and wish them a bon voyage on their new lives? Hope they strive for education and betterment of themselves....they're free now. We don't need them. Millions of 'em.....roaming, or perhaps starting a career at the 7-11. "moooooo....can I help yoooooooou."."

"Your kind of dick tonight"

"You started it. Care to engage me on conspiracies?"

"No".

Odd things indeed.

Have you ever been driving down the road passing one of the deer crossing signs along the highway and wondered as you look at the barbwire fence "Do Deer see that? I know they can jump but...". Well. No. They don't.

Today I was driving down one of the gazillion (yes, its a word I say so) oil and gas roads and came around a bend slowing gently for a very large (and probably tasty)doe, standing on the road. It saw me, and without any real effort nor hurry bounded off the road gracefully, almost cocky and not very quickly and leap into the bushes, just behind a medium sized tree. or, so I thought. As I approached the exit point a few seconds later, I looked over to see the deer bounce back as if hitting a invisible force field, falling in a tangle of legs, annoyance, and probably humiliation. It flailed about briefly, stood up shook it's head, looked disapprovingly at me and bounced off down the fence line, finally deciding to jump over the fence. I laughed.

That was even funnier than the day a deer ran into my parked pickup at full speed. I was stunned. I wasn't moving, I was parked. Right out of the bushes and slammed into the passenger side. IT sort of trickled down the side of the truck, stood up, looked incredibly incredibly annoyed at me (as if it was my fault) and took of again into the bushes. Didn't hurt the truck. But I did have to clean the flemish, saliva-ish schmootz off my window.

I used to work at a very schmantzy hotel in Calgary. We had been frequented by celebrities, politicians, heads of state blah, blah, blah. Jeff Healy was staying with us once. He came to the desk one night asking if they're was a camera store (this was PRE digital) where they could gets some pictures developed. (????kinda puzzling but whatever??? For those of you that don't know Jeff Healy was a blind musician). I said, without thinking, not keeping in mind the blindness, I said "yes sir! If you go to the front doors and look outside to your left it's right across the street." He did.

I remember working as a bellman once, and on a particularly slow day, I was checking in a nice family, cheap, but nice. The man looked at me and said "I don't have money for a tip" I said "not a problem, I'm not so sure what I am going to do about my wife and 17 children though". He didn't skip a beat. "Learn something about birth control I suspect". I laughed. It was funny.

Another time, I asked a guest if I could help with his bags. He said "no. they can walk". His wife and I suspect mother-in-law got out of the back seat......

I had more. I've forgotten them now. Odd things....Odd things indeed.

Balsamic Vinegar and Vanilla Ice Cream

I have a refrigerator. It's not huge. It's not tiny. It's a normal size, freezer up top fridge. It's white. There isn't anything special about it. You can lean in, one hand against the door at 3am, the light casting its telltale glow about my small galley kitchen as you dig for food that "isn't there". You can hip check it closed with your hands full of veggies,bottles, meats and cheeses as you prepare to create your Dagwood for the afternoon. If you don't know what a (or who a Dagwood)is, then I'm sorry for your luck.

It doesn't rattle or moan (although it does sigh on occasion).Sometimes it's full, sometimes it's quite empty. It does keep things quite cold. The freezer works but it's kind of eenie meenie, and for one guy it can get quite full. I don't know if you've noticed but shopping for one person has some challenges in the grocery store. "BULK BUYS" and "CLUB PACKS" are all the rage, soaking the consumer to buy more and save. I do too, I just end up freezing more and thus my eenie meenie freezer can be quite full. I don't have to go to Costco to buy too much shit, but I still like Costco.

The little shelves are reasonably adjustable, except for the fridge door. They're reasonably useless for anything but....hmmmmm....letsee.....chipotle mango dipping sauce, marinated garlic, HP, Strawberry Jam, Dijon Mustard, Yellow Mustard, Sundried Tomatoes, Ketchup, Teriyaki Sauce, Worcestershire Sauce. Eggs don't fit in the egg thing, but I put my old cheddar there anyways.

I don't know. Refrigerators are like the unsung hero of the movies and television. Oh Brother! you say?. Really. Always the setup for the attack in the kitchen, the rendezvous or help carry and give life to the "kitchen party". The refrigerator took a beating in Mr & Mrs Smith and who could forget its voyeuristic role in 9 1/2 weeks. Yet it gets taken for granted, covered in magnets and notes no one reads, schedules and calendars, coupons and menus. Buried and forgotten, mistreated by miscreant teenagers who peer longingly, attracting penguins who also appear only to be slammed shut and blamed for the lack of insight into food. "There's nothing in there. There's NEVER anything in the fridge...Mom! we need groceries!!! The fridge is empty.".

I challenge you...go to your fridge and make a meal with just what you find. Leftovers don't count.

Balsamic Vinegar and Vanilla Ice Cream doesn't count either. It isn't a challenge, it's.....exquisite.

Post in your blog, yo.

Okay, so.....Apparently some people, at least ONE anyways, do read my ramblings. I suspect two people. I'm sort of short on things to write about. My mind is curiously a barren wasteland currently. Short on miscellaneous ramblings.

Geeves cleaned my living room. Does that count? It took him 20 minutes after getting side tracked by the box of AA batteries which he found only fit in the XBOX controller, after checking all the other remotes, flashlights oh, and the nose hair trimmer (which wasn't in the living room. It was in the South wing near the spa.)

The maid tidied up the master suite. Yet again, too many pillows on the bed. I suppose I was meant to beat myself with them all, singular one sided pillow fight. I have no idea of the victor. I shall have to talk to her about that.

The cook....well, has been very imaginative lately but certainly has taken this portion thing under close scrutiny. Trying to get seconds has been rebuked. And desserts, well, I never ate them anyways.

And it's hurricane like outside...Sideways rain and very strong gusting winds. Better than snow, I shall not bitch.

That is all.

Reflections and Recollections.....

It's odd, isn't it? Music can evoke so many vivid memories. Music can evoke so many emotions. I can still, very very clearly holding my handheld Realistic (thanks radio shack) AM/FM radio "late" at night in my room listening surreptitiously to the music played by CKQR radio well after bed time. I can very clearly remember the slight crackle of the AM channel and the sound of Billy Joel singing "It's still rock and roll to me". I thought he was cool. I still love that song. FM was for the CBC.

My musical tastes swing throughout the spectrum, and having been exposed to everything as a child, a teenager and as an "adult" I still listen to it all. I have a digital copy of the cassette tape (if you don't know what a cassette tape is, read somewhere else please. No offence, just go.....away.) my dad had made of Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance, that just like my dad, I play with great relish on Saturday Mornings and frequently on long drives. It reminds me of him. And Saturday's. the smell of old books from "the den" and oddly an "ancient"set  of Encyclopedia Britannica's which provided dated, yet usable information for many essays, as did the rest of the largest collection of books I had seen as a child. I think I lost that tape on my father...I shall have to take him the CD...exactly the same version. Just.....harder to lose. Sunday's of course used to be reserved (and some days now too, but usually when it's raining)for the thunder of the Red Army Chorus. 'dem ruskies can sing!!!

Funny, but perhaps I'm a late catcher-oner, but I don't think I ever really started listening, actually listening to lyrics until my late teens. They can be pretty deep. Granted, the bubble-gum pop ,which was never really my scene tends not to be. But some can.

Road Trips home remind me of folk music. The Brother's Four. The Kingston Trio. Pete Seeger .It tended to be the only music you could play without headphones at any level a reasonable kid wanted. It's good to be the driver. Although I do play some going home, I tend to play and little more rock and roll now than when I was a backseat fixture (passenger side, behind my mother).

Punk music has it's charms. It is perfect for the teenager. Just the loud, assertive, angst of the music is an apt description for teenager itself. I hate symbolism, and yet it can very appropriate. I hate Ernest Hemingway's writing. I refused to read it in school....still had to do all the tests. Still passed. Symbolism can be so predictable. Anyway...not sure how that snuck in here.

Sometimes, nothing quite brings back the teenage years than I good dose of Bobby Darrin. No. I am not that old, but I did spend an inordinate amount of time in a Ford Thunderbird (TAUPE Ford Thunderbird!!! It was taupe and don't you forget it!!!) cruising the West Kootenay's. It had an ample supply of radio recorded cassettes featuring Danny Finkleman and Finkleman's 45's.. It also had a rogue copy, that somehow never seemed to find it's way home of Joan Jett. (Thanks Sally!).

I don't know why...but bagpipes remind me of my grandparents. No particular reason. I don't even remember them playing any music at all. Oh, except my grandmother on my father's side. She liked Roger Whittaker. I have none. I don't think I'm missing out. I have some Dean Martin and some Sinatra...nevermind, not even close.

Rock Music. Brings up memories of a LOT of booze, girls and the inevitable result of the combination of the two. 'nuf said.I still listen...over and over and over.

Of course, living in Canada's Cowboy Country, there is the country music. NOT the tear-in-my-beer stuff. I'm not struck on whasisname and his burning ring of fire. More the she's-hot-and-now-we-are-not-but geez-will ya-get-a-look-at her kind of country....it's entertaining and some of it is, despite being perhaps a tad melancholy at times, insightful.

I have no idea why I wrote this....I'm kinda lost. I'm gonna go spin some tunes and see if I can get more inspiration. It's still rock and roll to me.
 

There are perfect roads....there are perfect days for driving

I own a Jeep.

It's not because I settled. I did 4 months of research, comparing the whole spectrum of vehicles, from Toyota Prius (not freaking likely) to SUV's. I looked at cars I have no business looking at, and I fought off potentially what was (or is) a mid-life crisis.

My criteria was: Warranty, flexibility, ALL weather driving, and cruise control. Not in that order.

My jeep is pretty bare bones. It's dead sexy with the top down. That's right! Sexy.....(enter midlife crisis). Having said it's sexy, I fully understand while I may feel like Brad you-know-who behind the wheel, I fully understand it would look more like Rowan Atkinson from the outside looking in.

Jeep owners, are, I am beginning to discover an odd bunch. I have been waved at going down the highway for no particular reason, stopped in parking lots by strange people wanting to share their life stories on their Jeep they owned, own or will own. People commenting on the colour (yep, it's orange, or copper depending on the sun.) Officially its Mango Tango according to Chrysler, but that doesn't fit on the registration entry at the MVR.

I recently came outside to find a note tucked under my wiper blade. Apparently, Jeep owners patrol the back alley's of Drayton Valley. I initially thought someone had magically run into it and had left a "sorry about your luck chuck note". Alas, it was a invitation to the Drayton Valley Jeep Club. Oy vay.

Non Jeep owners are all fascinated with "so, what are you gonna do to it. Lift it? Put on bigger tires? Check Plate? ". Lets see. No. Why would I? I'm not compensating annnnnnnnd it's brand new. I like my Jeep the way it is. It does need "rock runners" or "running boards" but not at the moment. It does need better Tires it's got the same deal of the week tires Chrysler supplies, but they're okay for now.

The most rampant concern I find is everyone raises an eyebrow when I say it's only a soft top. It's like a I have contracted SARS or something. "But what about the winter?". It comes with a heater these days, actually more like an easy-bake oven even in -30 or more. I am only one guy. Where (seeing as how I live on a second floor am I supposed to put a hard top. How likely am I to want to try to take a Hard Top off by myself. What if I'm streaking down the highway (and it does streak quite nicely) and decide to go topless. Do I just toss it in the ditch and come back later? Uhhh...no. So the soft top comes down in about 10 minutes and goes back up in the same time. It comes with handy storage bags for the windows and a cool boot for the top so it looks sexy.

I'll be honest, I was pissed the first time I went to take it down. Jeep's instruction are quite frankly shit. The DVD video is shit. I looked it up on YOUtube. Life is good. We won't talk about the Boot instructions. Thanks for the Internet and Jeep forums. Now it's all old hat....and I love it.

It does not have air conditioning. It's a convertible. at 100+ km/h, it isn't hot out even at +25. It's nice.

It doesn't have four doors, it has two. Why would I need four doors? Someone countered with, so I can get people in the back easier. That's why the passenger seat pops forward quite easily.

It has a six speed, 6th obviously being overdrive and easily stays at whatever speed I want. It goes like an assaulted ape when I need to pass. It's not a rally car, its not a pro-stock, it's not a sports car. It's a jeep.

Concerns have been raised about people breaking in. Well, I don't keep anything worth while inside anyways and I hope that they just unzip the windows.

Noisy? Well, I just turn the stereo up with the top down and it isn't any noisier than my 96 ford 1/2ton with the top up.

It's the funniest vehicle I have owned and opening the hood, it is completely owner serviceable. A surprise for a new vehicle. NO shield or protectors on top, you can access all the components a person needs too.

I think I'll go for a drive and put in a little Right Said Fred in the CD....no satellite, I have 8GB of music so what do I care.