A Brief Update

After meeting with our Zambian contact on Wednesday, I'm more psyched than ever for the trip to Africa.

With a little help, the wild beast was domesticated on Thursday – tamed by a timely haircut. Side note: you know it's time, when the best thing you can do with your hair is to wear a hat.

I like salad. Especially as a conversation starter.

I think I'm more poetical when I write letters on the typewriter. Maybe it's the inability to undo, or maybe I convince myself I'm more poetical so I don't have to start the letter again. (<–– unintentionally rehashed Mitch Hedberg joke.)

Which brings us to today! A day that looks like spring and feels like winter. As they say, 'So much for global warming!'

Her Morning Elegance

Besides being an innovative and quirky video idea, I just love the rhodes piano in this song ... and the melody ... and the lyrics ... and the way it ends ... and the possibility that it's a song about a comatose girl living a full and rich life in her mind despite her illness. I don't know, it's a nice song.

Gumbo and fun ... yo.

I used to believe that Matt and Margaret could not achieve any higher status in my mind. They're just that awesome. BUT! Everything changed at Friday night's show.

I had a little outburst from the stage – wearing my heart on my sleeve is justifiably expected by most – because I realized that it was the most fun I'd ever had playing this acoustic, folk-rock, pop stuff that I can remember. Just when I assume that I've esteemed Matt and Marge just as highly as I possibly could, they go and blow me away ... again. Great musicians, and genuinely beautiful people.

It's not unlike having a second child. After the first, it feels like all your love is maxed out on that one kid. You start to worry: What if I have another one? Will I split my love between the two? Then, the second child is born, and somehow you overflow with more than enough love for both offspring ... or, at least, that's what I've heard it can be like.

Either way, the 'Bougie Down to Bourbon St.' FUNdraiser was a huge success in my books. A gumbo eating, acoustic rocking, childish dancing, fiddle playing, silent auctioning, hot sauce drinking, good time. 

Thanks to the organizers and to the kind people who came out to support their friends, specifically Andrew P. and my mom.

Hammerlogue

There's nothing like a brisk jog to start a crisp winter morning! A warm sun, friends at my side (Scott and Chuck), and, after a few kilometers, the threat of vomit. I've been swimming almost weekly since September, but this was my first run for something other than the bus, and after 3k I didn't feel like the champ that had trotted onto the street a few minutes earlier.

I've learned from reading Steve (my new hero in the blogosphere) that the compared measurements of time/distance are called 'splits' AND that 'negative splits' mean you're doing each lap faster than the one before it – which is apparently a good thing.

That said, here are my splits:

• K 1: 4.39
  
• K 2: 4.37
• K 3: 4.42
• K 0.5: 2.42

TOTAL: 3.5k and intense nausea in only 16.45!

To assist with this process I've started a manifestation of nerdiness (a spreadsheet) to keep track of my training progress for this year's competitive season. I've dubbed our training the Hammer Program, because we're hammering it out ... and we'll be hard as nails come summertime? Either way, the Hammerlogue will help keep track of the ensuing adventure. With 70 laps at the pool last night, a run this morning, and a blog to keep me honest ... we're off!

I Say, You Say*

I say … I’m developing a cheap and bottleless perfume.
You say … you’ll help me name it.
I say … it’s been done before.
You say … worth is contained in the bottle
I say … dispensed, it finds its value
You say … let me know how that works for you


*Inspired by an odd, one-sided conversation on the bus. The names and content have been generalized to maintain anonymity and to decrease the chances of the reader identifying with the characters "I" and/or "You".

Buns of Awesome

After two weeks off to accommodate certain academic pressures, Chuck and I were back in the water last night for our longest swim yet. It's still not that great, but we're getting better! We paddled to this rhythm:

Warmup – 500m (20 lengths)
Workout – Pyramid Swim
50m in 1:15
100m in 2:30
200m in 4:30
100m in 2:30
50m in 1:15
(Repeat)
Cooldown – 350m (then we got kicked out by lifeguards who were eager to go home after ignoring the swimmers and talking to each other for an hour)
That's 1.85k total.

I've never felt so good about a swim. It was great. Why? Well, I'm going to pretend that you care and tell you – I think I've found the perfect breathing/stroke rhythm! I know, right?! It's significantly sweet because it makes everything else a lot easier, hence the "never felt so good."

Buns of Awesome
Originally uploaded by the fod.

After this incredible feat of physical prowess, Chuck and I reached for a whole new level of awesome and stayed up till 2am to make and eat cinnamon buns.

Until next time, keep fit, and have fun!

A Writing Day at The Last Resort

It was one of those days where you say to yourself, "What the heck! I'll throw caution to the weak Toronto wind and just run, careless and carefree, to where my heart takes me. I'm going to break free from these desk and chair-shaped shackles that have monopolized my time for far too long. I'm off! Off to the cottage to ... uh, ... to do homework, but! not before I ... um, well, right after I move some furniture."

My dad and I left in the rented truck at 6-something in the morning. The pre-dawn chill was invigorating! (I wrote that sarcastically, but it really wasn't all that bad.) I fell into a death-sleep as we drifted through Barrie. It was one of those heavy sleeps where someone could have side-swiped our car, thrown a chainsaw-wielding bear into the cab, and my weighted eyelids would still have remained shut regardless of whether I wanted them open or not. It was nice. Sleep like that doesn't happen to me too often. Before I regained consciousness, we were (t)here.



After pops got things going inside, I packed some snow into a pot to melt for tea ...



... and we sat down to devour these huge, gravylicious roast-beef sandwiches. Our lunch steamed like it was made with molten meat and lava bread, which suggests that we're a) spirit-beings who remain unaffected by the physical realm 2) robots made of indestructible metal, or d) it was really cold and dry in there.

After lugging a beastly, wooden shelf thing upstairs with my indestructible robot dad, he left to check on a friend's place and I hunkered down by the stove for a bit of writing. Dad got a shot of the riveting action on his return.



It was a good trip. Dad's great like that – I guess it's called 'being content,' but even if we encountered the worst of circumstances and everything went horribly wrong, it would have still been good to spend time together. Thankfully, in addition to being fun and worthwhile, it was also a productive day.