- The Big Band. Queens' Ball. High Country Inn. Friday night.
- Nanuq. Dog Howling Competition. Shipyards Park. Saturday afternoon.
- My darling wife. The Capital Pub and Brewhouse. Tonight from 10:00 to 11:00. See poster below.
Three Great Musical Sourdough Rendezvous Events
My bipolar cat...
Fawn is writing an entry about Crook, our cat, and I figured I would, too.
To be perfectly honest, I didn't want a cat. I've never been a cat person. Cats have never made any sense to me. There are certain cat behaviors that I detest; like when Crook starts yowling to be fed at abhorringly early hours in the morning or when he jumps up onto the table or kitchen counters and knocks things off. Or when he rips up the door mats with his claws. Or when he paws at the door incessantly, meowling to be let outside even though he's not allowed outside. Or when he escapes outside and makes us chase after him. Or when we can't catch him and he brings dead (and half-dead) animals into the house.
We've tried to correct these behaviors, but nothing seems to work. The dog gets it. He's easy to train. If Crook gets it though, he sure doesn't let on.
I've heard people say that cats are trainable and I'm willing to concede that that may be true, but true in the same way that Sasquatches are real. Sure, people say they're out there, and I'd like to believe they are, but I've never seen one and I've seen very little evidence to support the case.
And don't get me started on litter boxes.
No, I just don't get cats. Dogs I get. It's easy to understand what's going on in a dog's brain. OK, maybe not the little yappy ones, but little yappy dogs are dogs in the same way that Pizza Pockets are actual pizza: They evolved from something totally awesome into a cute little over-processed package that bears some resemblance to the real thing but isn't.
All of this to say that I never really wanted the cat. I wanted a dog and we got a dog. Fawn wanted a cat so we got a cat.
As I've already mentioned, there are times when the cat infuriates me. Like today, when I was driving him home from the vet. I should feel pity for the guy, I know; he'd just had two vaccinations. But when he started foaming at the mouth, did he need to drag his cat slobber from one end of the car to the other? And when he started blowing chunks of half-digested cat food out of his maw, did he need to do that from one end of the car to the other? I suppose I could have put him in a cat carrier for the trip, but the last time we did that the emissions were even more putrid.
Then there are times when I'm happy to have him around. OK, I confess, he is cute. He is affectionate and friendly with everyone, including total strangers. He's very good with the kids and handles their loving abuse with exceptional grace. He's quick to purr and I like that. He is, undoubtedly, an attention slut. It can be a little difficult to type on a laptop while a cat is sitting on your chest, but he's warm and snuggly and who can resist warm and snuggly? He keeps me company when I'm up late, working. It's times like that when I really, really like him and am glad to have him around.
Darned cat. I don't know whether to hate him or love him.
To be perfectly honest, I didn't want a cat. I've never been a cat person. Cats have never made any sense to me. There are certain cat behaviors that I detest; like when Crook starts yowling to be fed at abhorringly early hours in the morning or when he jumps up onto the table or kitchen counters and knocks things off. Or when he rips up the door mats with his claws. Or when he paws at the door incessantly, meowling to be let outside even though he's not allowed outside. Or when he escapes outside and makes us chase after him. Or when we can't catch him and he brings dead (and half-dead) animals into the house.
We've tried to correct these behaviors, but nothing seems to work. The dog gets it. He's easy to train. If Crook gets it though, he sure doesn't let on.
I've heard people say that cats are trainable and I'm willing to concede that that may be true, but true in the same way that Sasquatches are real. Sure, people say they're out there, and I'd like to believe they are, but I've never seen one and I've seen very little evidence to support the case.
And don't get me started on litter boxes.
No, I just don't get cats. Dogs I get. It's easy to understand what's going on in a dog's brain. OK, maybe not the little yappy ones, but little yappy dogs are dogs in the same way that Pizza Pockets are actual pizza: They evolved from something totally awesome into a cute little over-processed package that bears some resemblance to the real thing but isn't.
All of this to say that I never really wanted the cat. I wanted a dog and we got a dog. Fawn wanted a cat so we got a cat.
As I've already mentioned, there are times when the cat infuriates me. Like today, when I was driving him home from the vet. I should feel pity for the guy, I know; he'd just had two vaccinations. But when he started foaming at the mouth, did he need to drag his cat slobber from one end of the car to the other? And when he started blowing chunks of half-digested cat food out of his maw, did he need to do that from one end of the car to the other? I suppose I could have put him in a cat carrier for the trip, but the last time we did that the emissions were even more putrid.
Then there are times when I'm happy to have him around. OK, I confess, he is cute. He is affectionate and friendly with everyone, including total strangers. He's very good with the kids and handles their loving abuse with exceptional grace. He's quick to purr and I like that. He is, undoubtedly, an attention slut. It can be a little difficult to type on a laptop while a cat is sitting on your chest, but he's warm and snuggly and who can resist warm and snuggly? He keeps me company when I'm up late, working. It's times like that when I really, really like him and am glad to have him around.
Darned cat. I don't know whether to hate him or love him.
The Northern Light
I've been on the road a lot lately. It's hard to be away from the family so much, but the work is enjoyable and makes a real difference in people's lives, so there is some consolation to be found in that.
From time-to-time, the people who live here ask themselves what it is about the North that keeps them here. I think it's a long list of reasons, both subtle and overt, and that the list varies from person to person. Others have proclaimed that, for them, it's the quality of light and how it casts a magical veil across the land.
I think that's a big part of it.
I took these pictures on my latest road trip.
There's no need for special lenses or photoshopping here. There's just something about that northern light.
From time-to-time, the people who live here ask themselves what it is about the North that keeps them here. I think it's a long list of reasons, both subtle and overt, and that the list varies from person to person. Others have proclaimed that, for them, it's the quality of light and how it casts a magical veil across the land.
I think that's a big part of it.
I took these pictures on my latest road trip.
Over the mountain on the way out of Ross River.
Sunset at Stewart Crossing.
A mountain near Fox Lake.
Orange skies at night, musher's delight?
There's no need for special lenses or photoshopping here. There's just something about that northern light.
Overheard at the B&B
I was cooking my dinner at the B&B where I'm staying while I'm in Ross River. A lady was on the B&B's computer, looking at facebook - something she is just starting to get the hang of. Every once in a while, she'd stop and ask the B&B's owner how something worked or what it is. Her daughter messaged her on facebook chat. She was thrilled and, after a few instruction from the B&B owner, started messaging her daughter back.
Before long, she looked up and asked the owner of the B&B, "What does I-D-K mean?
His response was, "I don't know."
"Ok," she said, "I'll ask her to tell me."
He went back to watching the hockey game.
I started laughing.
Before long, she looked up and asked the owner of the B&B, "What does I-D-K mean?
His response was, "I don't know."
"Ok," she said, "I'll ask her to tell me."
He went back to watching the hockey game.
I started laughing.
So near yet so far...
Stuffed full of the tasty moose sauce my wife made for dinner, sitting in the dark, snuggled under the blankets and watching a romantic comedy is a good way to spend a Valentine's evening.
There's just one little snag.
It would be a lot better if my wife weren't 400 kilometers away.
You see, I spent the afternoon traveling to Ross River. I'll be here all week for work. That's pretty sad as far as Valentine's Day romanticism goes - and it is somewhat of an anniversary for us.
Maybe when I get back we'll be able to go on an actual date or something!
There's just one little snag.
It would be a lot better if my wife weren't 400 kilometers away.
You see, I spent the afternoon traveling to Ross River. I'll be here all week for work. That's pretty sad as far as Valentine's Day romanticism goes - and it is somewhat of an anniversary for us.
Maybe when I get back we'll be able to go on an actual date or something!
Celebrity Me.
"If someone were to make a movie of your life, which actor would portray you?"
I have always struggled with that question. Now there's a "celebrity look-alike" thing going on facebook. Somebody suggested I look like Ethan Hawke, but I think that's too much of a stretch.
So, if you know what I look like, what do you think? Who is my celebrity look-alike (because you just know they're doing to make a movie of my life someday. :P )? Who's yours?
I have always struggled with that question. Now there's a "celebrity look-alike" thing going on facebook. Somebody suggested I look like Ethan Hawke, but I think that's too much of a stretch.
So, if you know what I look like, what do you think? Who is my celebrity look-alike (because you just know they're doing to make a movie of my life someday. :P )? Who's yours?
