Dean Martin vs Sad Baby

There was a small boy in a stroller in front of me on the skytrain yesterday. I couldn't see his mum's face, as she was turned away, but she was wearing a polka dot sun dress and her bare back and bronzed shoulders looked young from behind. I had my book in my lap but favoured watching the boy instead. He was fascinating. He had tousled blond hair and large dark eyes and was gazing solemnly at his mother. I couldn't hear what she was saying, as I was listening to my iPod, but whatever it was didn't sit very well with her young son. His face, slowly flushing in displeasure provided an interesting counterpoint to my music. I was listening to a live recording of Dean Martin, improvised of course, a vivacious crowd laughing at the end of almost every stanza.

I

I love Chicago, it's lively and gay,

I'd even work here without any pay.

I'll lay you odds it turns out that way,

That's why the gentleman is a tramp.

I

The boy's eyes filled with tears and his lower lip quivered dangerously as he watched his mother.

I

I love the free fresh booze that you get.

So I'm in debt, I'm flat, take that.

I

The tears spilled over, leaving streaks on his dirty cheeks. Suddenly he burst into sobs and covered his face with his small hands, giving himself over entirely to his wretched state. I sat there, mesmerized, torn between empathy for the wailing child and amusement at Martin's easy charm as he played with his Chicago audience.

I

My wife just told me, "Have I news for you.

The doctor's sure that I'm way overdue."

Wait til she finds out my girlfriend is too.

That's why this gentleman is a tramp.

I

The boy was still crying, with his eyes covered, as I got off at Broadway Station.

Family Reunion

Track Bikes

Of all the improbable professions I told my mum I'd like to devote myself to when I grew up (ie: tornado chaser), I never suspected that, as an adult, it would be something as romantic as an East Van hipster/bicycle snob.

What they care about:

-track bikes

-thrift store shopping

-independent music

-the environment

-not brushing their hair

What I care about:

-eating cereal

-my family

-reading

-sleeping with fluffy pillows

You see the discrepancy? I do have a bicycle but it has a basket and a bell and isn't built for speed. I can't carry it over my shoulder like a handbag as I so long to do because the frame is too thick. I don't venture out in the winter, earning me the reprehensible standing of Fair Weather Rider. And I enjoy nothing more than pedalling leisurely along companionably with a friend or two, taking in the view and stopping for an ice cream, which is a definite turn off for fixed gear enthusiasts whose sole aim is speed. In short, I'm just not the stuff bike snobs are made of. Perhaps I'll be a blogger instead?

Ode to Katie

Do you want to know who made me do it? (Start a blog, that is.) Katie. Or, as some extremely tactful people down the hall like to call her, tall girl. She is, admittedly, quite tall but I wouldn't say her height is her defining characteristic. She's an anomaly. Hard to place in a category. She wears pretty ruffly blouses tucked into high waisted skirts but kicks back in baby blue Uggs. She has a bachelor in fine arts but is returning to university for law. She plays basketball and cycles with a helmet. She hates Harry Potter and loves Mormon blogs. She knows New York almost as well as she knows Vancouver. In fact, she knows quite a lot about nearly everything. Google and her are like this.

I

Recently at work we were discussing the importance of a general knowledge of politics and after confessing my ignorance of even an elementary comprehension of it, she cleared the whiteboard and drew a diagram of the Canadian political spectrum. Conservatives and the Green Party were at opposite ends. NDP was left of centre, Bloc Quebecois right, and the Liberals were somewhere in the middle.

Underneath Conservatives she wrote:

• religion
• business
• money
• anti-gay
• ECONOMY!

Underneath NDP she wrote:

• socialist
• health care
• welfare
• gay

Above everything:

Alliance + Progressive Conservatives = Conservatives

Alliance = CRAZY

Stephen Harper, our blue eyed Prime Minister, is crazier than Bush, said Katie. And that is why I follow her advice. Because she knows.

Blizzards and Blood

Here is a conversation that just took place in my sister's kitchen between myself and my five year old niece. She was sitting at the table, her pencil crayons and colouring sheets spread out in front of her and a day old Tin Roof Brownie Blizzard melting quickly in her hand.

"Do you know what a menstrual cycle is?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Do you want to know?"

Nod. Ice cream running freely down her chin, brownie in its wake.

"It happens to girls. Well, women really. Once a month they feel kind of sick and blood comes out of them." I waited for a reaction.

She looked up from her icecream. "Ew."

Perturbed that she was taking it so lightly, I said, "How do you feel about that?"

She shrugged and rooted around for chocolaty chunks with her plastic spoon.

"Do you feel like that's weird or interesting?"

Shrug. Another bite.

"Gross? Cool? Awful? Wonderful?"

She shrugged four times.

I suppose empathy for the monthly plight of women will come later when she realizes how inexorably uncomfortable it is.

The Sunny Side of the Street

I walked on the other side of the street today. It felt so new. And strange. And good. I had no intention of crossing to the other side but a cyclist had activated the pedestrian controlled light and traffic was stopping just as I approached the intersection, so I crossed. I felt a bit shy. I always do when I cross a busy street like Oak. A bit sheepish, as if I was stealing time from these madly efficient commuters. I always feel as if they're looking at me impatiently, crossly. Hurry up, they tell me silently, exasperated.

I keep my pace casual. The light will change in its own time whether I walk briskly or not. I will not be intimidated by their glares. Piles of cars, each with a glaring driver. And more coming all the time. Eager to get home after a long day at work.

The west side of Oak was worth it though. It's lovely. It has big houses and tree shaded side streets. I passed one carefully groomed hedge of poison ivy. Alright, maybe not poison ivy, but it looked an awful lot like it. Life seemed more interesting over there, greener, brighter.

I'm slightly ashamed to admit how rousing I found the whole thing. Maybe I'll try it again tomorrow and see that it's not such a big deal afterall.