I felt pretty cool for the first time in my life when I was about 10 years old. Mark Greenland (who was my best friend) and I were listening to the album “License to Ill” by the Beastie Boys. We used to listen to it over and over, again and again. We thought we were kings, listening to this cool, rebellious musical style. It was by far the most influential album of life up until that point.

Mark was who got me into ordering shit from Columbia House, it was awesome, you’d look at the list of albums with the corresponding thumbnail photos of the album cover, check off a few, send off the form and a month later you’d receive your cassette tapes wrapped in cardboard. It was like unwrapping a Christmas present.

Oh the possibilities.

I once ordered the Milli Vanilli album “girl you know it’s true”, I sure as hell never told anyone that I was a fan, because it wasn’t cool - for guys anyway. I never admitted that I had an album either. I remember watching the Grammy Awards in 1990 when they won for best new artist, I was so proud of them. I wanted dreadlocks back then too because of them. I thought those guys were cool!

Anyway, Mark had a tape with the Bobby Brown song entitled “My Prerogative”, I’m assuming it was a mixed tape because neither knew the name of the song. Neither did we know what the hell he was saying, because in listening to it we thought he was saying “my barakus”. Don’t ask me what that means because I don’t know, it was the only thing we could discern from the poor recording quality not to mention it didn’t have the whole song, rather a snippet of it.

It was a catchy tune and we certainly enjoyed the little bit of it that we did have. We used to go around the house singing “my barakus “ like fools, thinking we were singing the right words. Marks brother Robert didn’t know what the hell we were saying either, so when we asked we told him it was a new swear word. Unfortunately for us Robert held it over our heads so that when he wanted something and we didn’t give in he’d threaten to tell his Father that we were swearing.

One day Robert decided to tell on us, and Eric (their Father and my Godfather) punished us by sending us both into separate rooms for half an hour or however long it was.

We thought we had something cool going on that only Mark and I were a part of, an inside joke if you will. I guess that backfired on us.

Looking back I wish I told Eric the difference, that it wasn't a swear word, but it was worth Robert not knowing. I wonder what Eric thought it meant, surely he hadn't heard it before. At that time he was a science teacher at Coley's Point Elementary and must have been up on his swear words.

Mmm seasoned...

So Stephanie has a real serious fear of cross contaminating food, she's almost jewish - not liking other foods touching eachother. Well she's not that bad, but I'm not permitted to cut raw meat on a wooden cutting board. In our home it has to be plastic when cutting meat, or wooden whenever she isn't present, and it's unbeknowst to her.

You see I do not have fear of dying due to the bacteria and other microbes that may dwell in a wodden cutting board. I have grown up on food that was cut up on wodden cutting boards. In fact the old cutting board we had when I was a kid was great it smelled of onions whenever it was wet.

The cutting board was a dark brown, glued together using three leafs, it was round and was routed all the way round near the edge maybe 1\4 deep. You hear some people talking about how well seasoned their cast iron frying pan is, well this cutting board was well seasoned. I say if you cut the board up into chunks and put it in a slow cooker you could make a soup from it that tasted awesome. This baby was the shit!

It wasn't until my early teeage years that I started to get fussy about the foods I ate and the way it was prepared. I started cooking myself when I was 9 or 10. I was always baking stuff, especially Duncan Hines's Devil's Food cakes - in which case I always ate a good portion of the batter if not all of it.

I was always my responsibility to clear up after my mess and when preparing meals it was quite a mess. When it came my turn to use the cutting board I became well aware of the scent acpturing properties of wooden cutting boards. You could imagine this cutting board from many years of use all tattered with bits of wood sticking from it. It's like it was growing hair, not rigid enough to stab you but not weak enough to just fall off. This board has seen many a sharp blade turn dull and has helped slice many a hundred onions and carrots and turnip.

When it came time to wash the cutting board I used to let it soak for a few minutes and then wash it thoroughly, I would scrub it vigorously with wash cloths. Some times I'd soak it and scrape it with a sharp knife watching the wood turn a lighter shade as if the knife were a squeegee. I was adamant on getting this thing clean and it seems the more I soaked it and scraped it with a knife the better it worked.

One day I made a fish caserole and of course when it came to cleaning time I was extra anal. I soaked and scraped it twice, then gave it a good scrubbing. For good measure I figured I would let it soak a bit more just to get out all the possible fish smell, so I did. I also decided to watch some TV while I waited. Well, one show turned into 2, which turned into 3. When I went to give the cutting board the final scrub I looked into the sink to find 3 separately floating pieces of dark wood.

I think Calgary is really starting to grow on me

It seems the weather is always favourable when I’m in town. It seems you guys always have a day off when I’m in town. It seems there's always something to do when I’m in town.


I don’t know why, but tea always tastes better when we drink it together. I don’t know why, but nachos always have just the right amount of cheese when we make them. I don’t know why, but the food is always best when the 3 of us pick up the food together.
It's nice to wake and walk down stairs to meet you guys in the kitchen or living room. It’s nice that the tea is ready and your Mom’s homemade bread is ready to turn into “my toast”. It’s nice that you would like to know what I want to do today. It’s nice that you want to know what I’d like to have for supper. It’s nice to be part of a home, and always feel more than welcome.

















I truly love to walk into that room and see you guys there. I truly love to engage in conversation with you. I truly love that you are interested in what I have to say, and I love to say that I am interested in what you have to say. I truly love that you never grab a beer without asking me if I want one as well, even if we’re drinking Justin’s beer. I truly love the fact that the day revolves around me or at least you do a good job making it seem that way.

I like it how you call home from work to see how my day is going and that you guys will be home soon. I like it how there’s a spiced country loaf made in my honour, even if I didn’t get to eat it last time. I like it how every effort is made to accommodate any need I have, and how I never take unnecessary advantage of it. I like it how we are, or at least you are grown up, and we have real jobs now - not working in the fish plant’s blast freezer wearing that Umbro hat.
It’s funny, that I have had 2 identical hats as you.

I’m here at Calgary airport where I have just arrived via a short flight from Grande Prairie. I’m waiting for my friend to pick me up, who is in the middle of rush hour traffic, so I’ve decided to come to this White Hat Volunteers booth and do some work on my computer. I logged into the Calgary Airport Wi-Fi internet access that is so slow that my homepage won’t even load, so I’ve resolved to writing.

At the airport here in Calgary there are seniors who volunteer their time, to help in any way they can – the people who come into the arrivals area of the airport. They all wear, atop their heads the telltale white Stetson, complimented by a red vest, quite similar to the regalia worn by the Canadian athletes at the ’88 Winter Olympics. The booth is there for the volunteers, it is essentially a kiosk. For me it is more of a functional desk. It has 2 power outlets and 3 network/telecommunication jacks and a very accommodating surface that wraps around to the back on the left hand side.

I am now using this kiosk as my work station. I am not really paying attention to the busy people around me but so far I have been called upon twice for help. I have helped as best I can, and to ensure the people asking my help aren’t lead astray and come away with a bad impression of this volunteer organization, I make sure all are well aware that I am not a representative of said group.

I look around aimlessly as my mind cycles through thoughts and ideas and stuff to put into words. I say this so that it’s understood that I am not paying attention to anything other than my hands hitting the correct keys on the keyboard. With that said, I look up momentarily to lock eyes with the most beautiful woman I have seen today. She was walking toward me at a leisurely pace as we both looked at one another; her face was expressionless the whole time. When I say we locked eyes for 7 seconds I mean to say that it was definitely longer than 5 seconds, yet not as long as 10. I was still trying to think of a word that meant ample or spacious as we shared glances, so my intent was purely coincidental - as I’m sure her was as well. The thing about it was she walked right up to the booth and right when I anticipated a question I gave her a polite nod as if to initiate conversation, and at that moment she broke from her gaze and walked right past my work area. I guess she knew I was an imposter.

That Can't Be Nice

I had a few hours to kill before I had to pick up my glasses at the optometrist, so I decided to navigate the Grande Prairie Mall. I checked out a few stores, not really looking to buy, more so to peruse – as Joe says. I went into the jewellery store where back in 2006 I had purchased a watch. I went there to see if they had the same model of watch I was currently wearing. You see I got this watch from Amazon.com, in fact I bought 2 of the same watch, I do that when I like something – maybe I should get another Steph to go with the one I already have. The point was, I was wondering what it retails at, but they didn’t have that particular model. I did however join in to help finish the song “farmer in the dell”, which the sales lady was singing. She enjoyed my accompaniment as didthe other women in the store. We all shared a laugh, such is my usual playful behaviour when out in public – often to the consternation of those shyer individuals who may be with me. Comments like “Yeah he’s always like that”, “he’s special” or “and I have to live with him” or “there’s something wrong with him”, are often spoken by my company at the time. Comments which I feel should not be said at such auspicious occurrences, because my sunny disposition should be celebrated not berated, even if in a jovial way.

From there I continued on to different stores which sparked my interest, looking for something cool or to engage people with my exclusive brand of conversation. After some rather uneventful visits I decided to get some food.

I opted for some stir fry, sour chicken and veggie noodles, infact. But then A&W onion rings started calling me, so I had to fire that up too. So I sat down and started to enjoy my meal.
During my feed I took notice of the people in the seat in front of me - a younger woman perhaps in her early 20’s, a child in a shopping cart and an older woman, who I assumed was the mother and grandmother respectively. The younger woman was about 5’6” and weighted a great deal more than her “ideal” weight. She probably weighed in the high 200 pound scale, large enough so that when she sat down her jeans receded down over her backside making her look like a prospective plumber.



Her shirt and coat also rode up her back to the point that there was an exposed gap of naked skin roughly 12 inches from the bottom of her shirt to the top of her jeans. When she sat back onto the chair her fat would push through the rungs of metal on the chair.


I mean this is something we’ve all seen before, right? It’s a common scene in many a public place, nothing out of the ordinary. But I watched as this woman got up and sat back down several times and in the same fashion each time. Every time she sat back her fat would press through the cold metal rungs and never did she correct her jeans or her shirt and coat from baring her white naked skin. I’ve never this happen to me but I’m sure it can’t be pleasant. I even reached behind me at one point touching the metal rungs of the chair to see how cold they were. It was quite cold, uncomfortably cold in fact. Certainly not something you’d want your bare skin to be pressed against.

I was just on the bus going through Pinnacle Ridge. I went past a section of town houses when I noticed something on the very small front step of one of the houses. These steps are large enough to accommodate a regular sized BBQ and a couple of lawn chairs comfortably.

On this the 14th of April with a high of 12 degrees Celsius I spied an inflatable harbour porpoise and kids swimming pool.

Surely these people aren't extending pool privileges to their children this time of the year. I can only assume they just left the pool avec accoutrements on the front step all year. I mean why else would they have it there? It’s not as though it’s a skidoo or a quad or even a Porsche, it’s a friggin kiddie pool and a bloody dolphin.
Do they not have space for an easily stored deflated fun? Or are they bragging by leaving it out all year for everyone to see and wish that they too could afford such luxuries?

Whatever the reasoning is behind such a thing nearly compels me to go to that residence and make inquiries with the occupants.

Check this out for some crazy fun, I've watched this nearly a dozen times, sure to make you say "holy shit", out of amazement:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPp2HlIMkmU

Who doesn't love a horse

I have admired these horses who graze in a fenced off meadow close to the road which I travel twice a day. From what I have gathered the farmer brings a fresh bail of hay each day and drops it in the same spot. I have a perfect view of the horses when they are near the hay. One in particular always catches my attention. t is brown with white rounded patchs, but not overburdened with them. It may be the most beautiful horse I've ever seen. I have myself convinced it is an Andulusian, but after just checking "google", I am far from any characteristic which would indentify it as an Andalusian. Silly me.

In my head I start budgeting out my finances, wondering if I could afford to shelter and feed this horse, it would be a glorious gift for my love. I would have to buy a horse trailer, for that matter I would also have to get a truck. Maybe the horse wouldn't survive the trip across canada and maybe this is just another ephemeral thought.

Anyways, I noticed yesterday that the horse was laying in the feed hay, sort of propped up by it. It was laying in the hay as the other 3 horses were around the pile eating from it. I thought this to be quite amusing, thinking that if I were a horse, I'd definitely do shit like that. I mean why stand up when you can lay down. The horse was back on to the other horses and seemed quite content, and content perhaps to the consternation of the other horses

Today the horse was right at the pile again, as were all the other horses. Again the horse was back on the other horses. It was so close to the pile that it's hooves were imbedded in the hay. I looked closer at the horse as I thought it had lifted one of it's hind legs. I believe it did, but then put it back down into the hay. It was at this moment, having looked closer at the horse that I noticed something.

I didn't know if it was funny or not, when I noticed the horse was taking a shit in the very hay the other horses were eating from - as they were eating it. Some glad I don't live wit dat fella!

Zee Vildlife

Ah yes, the wonderful outdoors. I am quite fortunate in my line of work, that I get to drive along pastures full of roaming animals. For the past 2 weeks I've been driving aong the same route, which on my way includes 4 pastures of dozens of cattle, 2 pastures with horses and one area which holds horses and buffalo. Along the route are many deer, sometimes eating, sometimes laying in the meadows and sometimes running across the road and jumping fences.

Deer are very agile just last week we had to slow down as one jumped across the road and hopped a fence with an athleticism that reminded me of a slow motion Usain Bolt, or an Olympic hurdler. I watched as the muscles flexed and contorted as it dashed across our path. I lept through the fence (how I don't know) and to my uber surprise manoeuvred between 2 large trees, which I thought for sure it was gonna bring up solid on. I couldn't believe my eyes, it nearly seemed impossible for the animal to react so quickly upon landing as to avert from even snagging itself. If I had a medal that day I would have given it to the deer.

Yesterday we seen 2 moose in a pasture, very large moose! Then another walking up someone's driveway on the way back to our lodgings. The deer are ubiquitous here and are familiar and some what comfortable in the area they habit. They craze nonchalantly, and look about as though no one ever drives by, which in this case well over 100 vehicles go past them each day. Usually they are in packs of up to 15, as far as I have counted and as little as 5. They are peaceful looking as I drive by and see them laying in the grass, just watching time go by. I often want to get out and walk up to them, perhaps they could sense I mean no harm and just want to have a moment.

Today on the way back to the camp, I looked for those 2 moose from the previous day. They weren't there, but I did get a glimpse of something else, there were 2 ducks or geese (I couldn't quite tell) flying together. I followed them with my eye right until they landed. They were in unison, even the wing beats were alike. I watched as they stopped flapping and glided. They glided for a few hundred feet and lost altitude as they gracefully came closer to landing in a meadow. It reminded me of 2 jet fighters landing, the silhouette of their wings and the long neck stuck out like a cockpit. They are obvious professionals at what they do.

I'm jealous I cannot fly.

He What?

Yes. Mitchell shaves his feet!

Does he know how absurd that sounds?

It is however, utterly necessary. His feet stink something fierce.

Is it Listerine?

What the hell is that smell? I'm currently housed in a workcamp near Dawson Creek, BC. I'm on night shift and every morning when I get back to my room there is a distinct and constant smell.

It's smells like Listerine Original. It's as though someone enters my room each morning right before I get here and rinces their mouth out with Listerine. I wonder, do they gargle? It's hard to do it with the original because it burns. When Pop Snow was alive his washroom in the mornings would smell like listerine original, that and the smell of a long since extinguished cigarette.