A Black and White Christmas. Whatever Happened to a Good Old Fashioned Blue Christmas?

So we made it through another one. A little shaken, but not stirred. It has often been said that Christmas comes and goes like a winter storm, and that was more than appropriate this year. I don't recall ever seeing this much snow in Vancouver. I have a feeling that Al Gore might have to go back to the drawing board. In the meantime, I will be praying for that almighty power El Nino.

I find myself unable to remember when the snow came, it's one of those things that grows irritating enough to become a part of everyday life. I do know that Christmas Eve was one of the worst situations I have ever driven in. The video's I posted the other day don't do any justice to the scenario that was at hand. As I mentioned, Danny had been talked into abandoning his car so I at least had someone to ride shotgun with me.



The plan was to make a beeline for the highway, a snowbound drivers sanctuary. A place where you would imagine your journey would be laid out like two giant piano keys to your destination. Didn't work out that way. It was a struggle enough to get out of the drive. These times always call for horsepower, and thankfully my little mule pulled through like a Clydesdale. We were stop and go everywhere we went. A couple of times we literally had to make a run to crest a hill. When we finally got to the highway, I felt that instant pit in my stomach. It was like finding a Pharaoh's tomb to find it already striped of its treasure. The highway had as much snow as all the other streets, and it was approaching a white out. The eastbound was essentially closed, fortunately we were heading west to the promised land. The promise of friends and some Christmas cheer that is.

We were in high five mode by the time we made the Lonsdale exit ramp, breaking the rule of celebrating before you reach your destination. It was at that point of course that the rear end of the car broke loose sending us sideways towards the ramp barrier. I whipped up my parking brake like a gunslinger, I had that split second hope that I had drawn fast enough. The car swung around and corrected. It was one of those moments where you think your ride is a living, breathing creature. I few pats on the dash and a "atta girl", and we were on our way up the hill.


The hill was horrible, one lane was essentially closed to abandoned vehicles. I knew that if we even had to slow we were done. I tackled it like an uphill slalom. We soon hit the destination, the car gave what seemed to be a dying gasp as I spun it into it's stable.

I being the genius I am decided to wear a pair of $300 Cole Haan's instead of a pair of runners or boots that I don't even own. So Danny had to wait patiently as I did a routine that was a cross between Fred Astaire and Don Knotts across the parking lot.




Pretty quiet once we got in which didn't surprise me. Heck, who would be dumb enough but me to go there in the first place? Before long they started filing in. Those with cancelled flights, those who were supposed to be somewhere but couldn't drive. It was still only a fraction of those that would normally be there. I'm not one to suffer alone so I told Steph to get up there. I had assumed she would have caught a cab or a bus, but no, she slogged through it herself. She had boots though!!

Brad and Ty showed up. The had gone to shovel Ty's father-in-law's roof only to find the 90 year old up there himself. Only a 90 year old would have the work ethic to do that. You could offer a 20 year old 50 bucks to do it and he would say no. That is where the world is at.

And so the night went on. We left early of course. I had a date with a steak and "It's a Wonderful Life." I offered to drive Steph home since I dragged her up there. She asked if the car was going to be able to make it. I said as long as we make it the first 2 feet we'll be fine. We made it a foot. The car went nose first down into the snowbank. Thankfully there were still some people inside, and I was able to get "6 good men" to give us a push.

I finally got home and went to start cooking. I had already said goodbye to the steaks dancing in my head due to time restraints, and enlisted the help of Dr. Oetker instead. The second I pulled the pizza from the box there was a loud buzz, and a flicker of the lights seemingly just given me enough of a heads up to form the right expletives in my mind before the power went out a moment later. Cheese, lettuce, and onion sandwich it was. With luck there were a couple people I hadn't seen to delivery their gifts. One was candles, the other, a book. I sought the refuge of my room and had a very cozy if not short night. The power came on about an hour later, but I was already sound asleep waiting for Santa to arrive.

The morning soon came, as did the realization that I was now beyond a doubt snowed in. Another 6-8 inches had fallen overnight. We didn't have it so bad in the end. Turns out some people were without power for more than 12 hours. I surveyed the sparseness of the tree and waited for the boys to awaken. I did open my gift from Miley. It was a cool shirt from a bar in Park City where she lives. It seems funny, but that was all I really wanted. For some reason it just makes me feel closer to her. She was pretty much in the same spot as me, snowed in. She actually took a tractor to Christmas dinner. I don't know how much fun it was at the time, but I'm sure it will be a great memory in the future. It's funny how that works.

The boys got up and we did our quick exchange. I scored a set of noise cancelling headphones from Roman. You can never beat the gift of music, never. But as soon as they were there, they were gone. Danny to his Mom's, Roman either driving him, downstairs wrapping, or at Janine's mom's. It's a different feeling being alone on Christmas. It's as if the world is throwing a party and you are the only one who wasn't invited. Admittedly it was by my design, and there are never any regrets. But the loneliness was so thick it almost took on a liquid form. I always feel like I'm supposed to be somewhere else at Christmas.

It was time to queue up the flicks. First up, a DVD my mother gave me of our old family movies. Nothing cheers you up like watching the cowboy outfit your Aunt and Uncle give you making your pants fall down in front of your family because your holster is too heavy. Next up, Big Fish. A classic, and a film I hold quite dear. Once that was finished it was time to get to cooking. I still did the full dinner with all the trimmings. Almost like making a place setting for some unexpected guess. I had dinner planned dead on for 8 o'clock. Another one of my favorites was on, The Sting. A fitting tribute to the passing of Paul Newman. Roman arrived home for dinner, and we sat to feast. Danny arrived at pretty much the same time and we all got to enjoy the movie together, and I guess that's what Christmas is all about. Sharing an experience. Even though the movie is 35 years years old, neither had seen it through before and both enjoyed it to the fullest. Throw in some apple pie and ice cream and a night was made.

Boxing Day brought the snow back and pretty much matched the conditions of Christmas Eve. And now just as the magic of Christmas is gone, so too the snow disappears. It's as if we have been living in some elaborate Hollywood set the last few days. And just as quickly as it arrived, I see it as it leaves. One drip at a time from the eaves above my window.

Someone once said "Never worry about the size of your Christmas tree, in a childs eye they are all 30 feet tall." I think that represents a lot about Christmas to all of us. It is magic, and no matter how stressed, or lonely, or busy we are leading up to it, it still wraps us like a blanket when it arrives.

Winter Wonderland (Merry Christmas Everyone)

Hartwick vs. Carlsen (Patio vs. Inside)

CLOSE THAT DOOR!!

Placido and Sissel Do Christmas

I love how these two do this song. Sissel has an amazing voice, the kind that only an international audience can enjoy. We North Americans tend to be blind to such talent.

I particularly enjoy the fat kid in the blue jacket. You just know that his mom has hidden a candy bar in there somewhere.

I was actually introduced to this concert by Rick Mark. It was on an old beat up VHS tape that his mother used to play every Christmas. He played it for me when I made him Christmas dinner one year. Song can accompany a dinner far better than most fine wines. The most amazing thing about the dinner that year was realizing that a 50 year old man did not know how to operate his own oven, yet this same man is able to criticize anyone's political beliefs as if we aren't intelligent enough to be able to decide for ourselves.

Zing!! Merry Christmas Rick!!

You haven't really done a Christmas if you haven't dressed up, gone out for a nice dinner, and taken in one of these concerts.

Come and Sit By My Side if You Love Me

What a c-c-c-crazy week!! I knew it was going to be a tough week, but the snow didn't help.

I got up at 4 to catch the ferry on Tuesday. I was already dragging my tail as I shuffled up to the main deck. It was a beautiful morning for the voyage though. That's 16 sunny visits to Victoria in a row, not bad. Even the clerk at my hotel always smiles when she sees me because she always knows I bring the sun.

The person I had the meeting with had to go to the ER with his mother (she's alright) so I was there for pretty much nothing. Checked into the hotel and ran into Bobby O at the Sticky Wicket. It's always nice to have someone to hoist a beer with. I soon fled back to the hotel before it got too cold out. The weather on the Malahat was supposed to be nasty so I wanted to get an early start. Besides, The Grinch and Frosty the Snowman were on the tube to boost my x-mas spirit.

Got up at 4 again to hit the road for Nanaimo. The Malahat was a nightmare. One lane was solid ice, and the road as always was black as pitch. By the time I hit Nanaimo it was a classic winter blizzard for sure. Flakes the size of golf balls. My meeting lasted about 3 hours, but the time I got back to the car it had about 4 inches on it. Nothing better than a sports car with summer tires on it in this weather believe me.

Thankfully caught the early ferry back. Crazy rough seas and unrelenting snow. They told us halfway across that the hill above Horseshoe Bay was closed and that we would be re-directed through the Bay itself. When we finally docked they told us the Bay was now closed and we would have to take the hill. The two people in front of me collided just going up the ferry ramp. By the time we got to the end of the overpass, you could already see what was going to unfold. I decided to stop at the top of the ramp as did the fella beside me. Sure enough the red light came on at the bottom of the hill and everybody on the ramp rear ended each other. A classic Vancouver moment. A few minutes later a semi jack knifed on the hill, me and a handful of other people crept through after that from what I hear it was essentially shut down.

Next morning I was up at 4 to catch a flight to Kelowna, a place where it was -33 when I landed. Holy Crap!! Michael and I just wanted out of there, and the flight crew did tell us they didn't know how much longer the airport would be open so we just rushed through our meeting and thankfully caught an earlier flight.

Anyhow, it's all behind me now. The weekend is here and let the season begin. I am waaayy behind on things I have to do, but I guess i'm just going to have to deal with it. So it's time for us to raise a glass and enjoy all the season has to bring. It's time to reflect on our stories from the year, only the joys of course, we will leave the other stuff for New Years, something we can say good-bye to. I have been inside for a couple of weeks now, but have so far only seen my motley crew. It's time to be counted people, we all know what a grumpy person I can be this time of year, I need cheering up, get on with it!!

There is no charge for admission. Just a smile and perhaps a story or two. Tell me what made you laugh, tell me what made you dream. Tell me what changed your world.

The first three people that mention this post get a drink on the house.

As my old faithful friend Reno used to say, "BOOF! BOOF!"

What I Want For Christmas

Please shoot all of these people.

Money Talks. But it Don't Sing or Dance and it Can't Walk

The year is starting to wind down, and what a year it has been. We are starting to see the end game of corporate greed. It will still live, like that last ember of a forest fire that hides underground waiting for just the right conditions to resurface. Even as I write this the Board of Merrill Lynch is meeting to try and pass a bonus of 10 million dollars for their CEO before Congress can get involved.

We have seen companies we have known our entire lives vanish into thin air. I remember the impact I felt when Eaton's closed a few years ago. I felt that my personal choice was taken away. Eaton's had a level of class attached to it. Whenever I go into The Bay, I feel like I should be exchanging beaver pelts for whatever I am purchasing. Now so many businesses are disappearing just as Eaton's did. The auto companies are seeking 34 billion from Congress to stop the bleeding. Congress is offering 15 billion. As an industry insider I can tell you the real number they need just to turnaround is 125 billion.

Staggering I know. So I figured with the year coming to a close, and to also offset the negativity of my Toronto trip, I would list some of the simple things that made my year. They weren't necessarily free, but let's set a budget of say 20 bucks.

So here they are in no particular order:

• Playing mini-golf with my niece and nephew. Never doubt the healing powers of children.
• Making CD's for Miley and occasionally finding that song I haven't heard for years that gets me spinning in my office chair singing along.
• Driving the Malahat on a perfect autumn morning, the trees ablaze in colour that a photograph could never possibly duplicate.
• Water skiing on Lake Okanagan, for the most part carving a perfect line (The pain I felt throughout my body the following day will go on my negatives of the year list.)
• Thinking about Dawn and Stase's spontaneous living room dances.
• Spending my first birthday with "family" in 15 years.
• That ragtag crew that spent Thanksgiving at my place.
• New York (I know the trip cost money, but it was the things we did there that were less than 20 bucks) This part I could rant about for hours. I will sum it up with the joy Dan displayed while running his own photographic steeplechase through Central Park. The look on Dave's face when we had that goofy elevator operator at Tiffany's "Welcome to the third floor, where we have silver and diamonds and ohhh so much more." The feeling of being a wide eyed child again as I absorbed the impossibilities of architecture and art and music that surrounded me, and of course my late night sandwiches at that deli on Lexington and 53rd.
• Perfecting my tennis serve after my shoulder drama.
• Playing basketball with the neighborhood kids.
• Finding a bunch of songs I wrote years ago and realizing I never finished any of them.
• The sunrises on the 97 connector.
• The music that went with the sunrises.
• Three words SUMMER RESTAURANT PATIOS
• Finding out what really happened. (Although I don't think I really did.)
• Running into an old friend at the airport and finding out it wasn't actually something I said.
• Racing go-karts with da boyz.
• Saying good-bye (or not.)
• Sunday mornings with coffee, Dean Martin, and the New York Times crossword (no, I have never finished it.)
• Afternoons at the beach with a good book.
• The snowball fight in Nanaimo.
• Tonia putting me in my place.
• Learning to laugh again (For the record, people that make fun of one's laugh should burn in hell.)
• The macaroni and cheese at Duece.
• The words hola, buenos dias, and buenos noches.
• Being perfect from the key not once but twice at the basketball court behind the house.
• The first sleep I had in my Columbia Sports wear fleece sheets.
• Dancing in the snow with a group of people in Banff that I didn't even know.
• Crunchy peanut butter and crumpets.
• Swimming in Broame Lake all by myself on a summer morning.
• Lunches with Mom.
• Watching Phil build a wall for no apparent reason.
• Sirius Radio and long drives.
• Any texting conversation I have with Miley that includes "hahahaha", all you "lol" people are lazy and fat.
• Watching numerous people walk into the sliding door because they think it is open.
• Watching someone smile with their eyes.
• The scent of a woman.
• All of my Saturday night movies in bed.
• The pizza that I am eating as I watch Saturday movies in bed.
• All of my Sunday morning movies in bed.
• Not finding pepperoni stuck to my back as I watch movies in bed.
• Meeting someone that inspires me.
• The crisp, cool mornings leaning on the railing of the ferry.
• Any story that Nick tells me.
• The Jets having a winning season.
• Sunny September mornings.
• Brunch at Tom and Binnie's.
• Playing the drums on my dashboard.
• Having a conversation with someone that totally gets me.

That is only a small sample of course. But each and every one is better than a $300 bottle of wine. There are kids starving out there people. Get your priorities straight and appreciate the simple things. Make your own list and check it twice, Santa needs all the help he can get.

Attack of the Ontarian's!?!

So I'm finally back, and not soon enough might I add. Air Canada pulled out all the stops this time. They were hell bent determined to ensure this was THE worst trip that I have ever had.

Let me give you a little time line of my journey to the center of the universe:

Tuesday December 2nd, 7AM PST: Left for the airport after about an hour of obsessive compulsive packing. I was frisking myself so much looking for cell phones, passports, etc, that with my leather jacket on I sounded like Scatman Crothers playing the hambone.

7:45AM: Arrived at the airport. Proceeded to play the hambone on my way to the terminal. So much so that I was repeatedly mistaken for a busker.

7:55AM: Used spare change thrown at me to purchase a coffee in the terminal.

8:05AM: Checked the flight board. Flight was surprisingly on time. Celebrated by playing the hambone and collecting my boarding pass. Then waited in a line for 20 minutes just to flop my suitcase onto a conveyor belt.

8:25AM: Outside for one last smoke, try to remember what I forgot in the car.

8:35AM: Go through security gate. Thanks to various pieces of jewelry, I now have friendly people wearing strange uniforms playing the hambone on me. It was the most "action" I've had in months.

8:45AM: Finally get to the gate, sit down to read my paper.

8:48AM: I hear the first crackle as the public address system comes to life. Having flown Air Canada so many times, I know it's not going to be good. "ATTENTION PASSENGERS OF AIR CANADA FLIGHT 181. WE ARE BEGINNING PRE-FLIGHT CHECKS. PLEASE PREPARE FOR PRE-BOARDING." Well that didn't seem so bad, maybe I'm overreacting.

8:55AM: "CRACKLE CRACKLE, ATTENTION PASSENGERS OF AIR CANADA FLIGHT 181. APPARENTLY THE PLANE IS BROKEN. THEY WILL BE TOWING AWAY THIS PLANE AND BRINGING US ANOTHER, BUT THE FLIGHT WILL BE DELAYED 1 HOUR. whisper whisper AN HOUR AND A HALF, whisper whisper I'M SORRY, THE FLIGHT WILL BE DELAYED 2 HOURS." That is an actual announcement, "the plane is broken." I'm certain the collective exhalation of air rage, as everyone muttered under their breath, was opening doors around the airport. I think the word disgust had to have been born from the word gust.

11:00 AM: Take to the air.

7:00PM EST: We finally land. The actual airtime was about 40 minutes longer than usual due to being held in a holding pattern for a ridiculous amount of time.

7:15PM: Finally leave the plane. I've found a secret path to where I can go for a cigarette while waiting for my baggage. Not the greatest security around this place. The only thing worse is their baggage handling, hence the cigarette.

7:45PM: My bag is finally spat out of the bowels of Pearson Airport, slightly damaged, but there at least.

8:00PM: Jump in the cab for my preposterous 30 dollar five minute cab ride.

8:05PM: Arrive at the "hotel." We received an e-mail from our director of human resources that he had taken the liberty to change our reservations from the Marriott to some place called the Stage West. I know, it does sound like a strip joint. But we all must do what we can during these tough economic times (except Dubai remember?) The place was a complete rat trap. All of my partners had already eaten, so I just threw my bags in my room and joined them for a beer and lacklustre hamburger before bed.

9:00PM: Checked the room for any critters that weren't supposed to be in there, and checked under the bed for any bodies. I then proceeded to climb into bed and stare at the ceiling.

10:00PM: Staring at ceiling.

Wednesday December 3rd:

1:00AM: Staring at ceiling.

3:00AM: Staring at ceiling.

4:15AM (approx): Fell asleep.

5:00AM: Alarm went off.

5:25AM: Wandered into the breakfast buffet and made of with a plate of the most lifeless eggs on the planet. Even if Mrs. Dash was an ER nurse she couldn't have saved these things.

6:00AM: Enter the Mitsubishi Triple Diamond Boardroom. You have to remember this is 3 o'clock in the morning my time. I am always the first one to have to do my reports.

10:30AM: Finished my reports. I now have to wait for my boss to perform my personal assessment. Something I always get to do last, even though I was the first one to finish my reports.

5:40PM: Start my assessment.

6:50PM: Finish my assessment.

7:15PM: Meet the boyz for dinner. We go for all you can eat ribs. Somehow Campisi the smallest guy in the group (he's about the size of my leg) was the only one to order seconds.

8:30PM: Back to the hotel. Another night with maybe 2 hours of sleep.

Quite the 48 hours. I woke up like a walking zombie. I banged the TV on and flipped on the news. Just for the record, there isn't any news outside of Toronto at least according to them. They have this morning host named Alan Carter that is pure nails on a chalkboard to me. One of those little irritating people with a booming voice that you know for the most part is faked. I can see his real voice being something like Mickey Mouse on helium.

They were doing a story on the auto industry in Ontario. Now I grew up in Ontario and have been there many, many times over the years. The one thing I had never heard is what they have decided to call themselves. Ontarians, they called themselves Ontarians. Isn't that just soooo Toronto? We are so freakin' lazy and self absorbed, we are just going to ignore any of the rules of grammar, and drop the "O" and call ourselves Ontarians. The funny thing about this is that they call themselves Torontonian's. ??? Does any of that make sense at all?? And besides, Ontarians sounds like some sect of the Aryan Nation that gets controlled by radio signals from the top of the CN Tower. Hmmm, it is starting to make sense.

I went into the office and started talking to people about it. They started staring at me almost as intently as I had been staring at the ceiling every night. It almost had a children of the corn feeling to it.

Oops, I'm running short on time, I better pick this up.

The next day was our x-mas party at the Crowne Plaza Hotel. We already told the HR director to get stuffed and had checked into the Crowne Plaza instead.

The party itself wasn't bad, but the food was horrible. It takes a lot for me not to eat something, and I literally just nibbled on a bit and pushed it aside. As always I quickly transformed our corner into the party table. It was Rob, Michael, and I from the west, and our Quebec partners, Daniel, Patrick, and Phillip and their wives. My tables tend to be the stuff of legend, and the VP of Sales already told me I was supposed to look after his boys. Michael was already gone, the shooter king lives. Before you knew it we had a pipeline the Saudi's would be jealous of running from the hotel bar to the ballroom.

Within an hour I saw a circle of women dancing around the floor. I darted around quickly with my eyes and soon realized Patrick was missing. Some cheesy dance song was playing, like the Macarena or something like that, they started clapping their hands. Patrick is a small little guy, I knew he was in there somewhere. That is when I saw the belt waving through the air like a whip and the woman started spreading out their circle. There he was, the shirt was already starting to come off, and the pants were undone. The CEO was already making a dash for the door, I guess it isn't really Japanese custom to strip at x-mas parties. It took a few of us to get control of Patrick, but we managed to subdue him before the pants came off.

I got a pretty good haul that night. I was given floor seats for a Raptors game, but the VP that put me in charge of Patrick felt bad so he swapped me with the 30GB video ipod he was given. I was also given a $600 Best Buy card. Not bad.

I finally went up to the room on an empty stomach and opened the room service menu. It was about midnight. They had a late night menu that ran from about 1AM to 5AM, it just had some simple sandwiches on it. I called down and asked for a tuna sandwich. A snooty voice replied that it wasn't 1AM yet and he didn't know if they could do it. I being very tired at this point responded with many colourful words and phrases how ridiculous it was that I could order a Prime Rib with lobster tail with spring vegetables in a fig reduction sauce, yet I couldn't order a $%# &%$# &#$%ing tuna sandwich. The tuna sandwich was there 5 minutes later.

I did finally get some sleep that night. 12 hours total for the 5 day trip. I met Rob in the lobby at 7 to head for the airport. The schedule board again said the flight was on time. We got to the airport where the flight was cancelled. I can't even explain the expletives that were leaving my mouth at this point. It was as if I was speaking in tongues, some of them didn't even make sense to me. In the end I would have more than 4 hours to kill before I got on a plane. Thankfully I had some magazines, a paper, and a text buddy to keep me company.

The only seat I could get on the plane was the very last row. Beggars can't be choosers and believe me Air Canada sure makes you feel like a beggar. Pearson's new terminal doesn't really allow any restaurants of any type for whatever stupid reason, so I waited to eat until I got on the plane.

I was supposed to fly out on a brand new 777, instead I got a 767 that I think at some point was used to transport livestock. No seat back entertainment system here, just one of those lovely projection screens about 10 rows in front of me. They finally came around with the food, I was starved. But of course they ran out of food about 10 rows in front of me. They were more than happy to sell me an expired cookie they found in the back for 2 dollars.

The icing on the cake was the movie du jour. "The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants Part 2" I find myself questioning the validity of a part 1 for a movie like this (sorry Miley), but this just is not a guys movie on any level.

There is probably more that I am forgetting, or at least blocking out like some traumatic event of the past. Buts that's all I got. Horrible place, horrible people.

BEWARE THE ONTARIANS!!

Off the Air

It's back to Toronto for me. I wish I could be saying I have assembled an elephant army greater than Hannibal's, and I was going on safari to "stomp" some sense into some Wal-Mart shoppers. But no, just some cold weather, and I'm certain some even colder shoulders.

I think that it's best that I get out of Dodge for awhile. I've tried to go x-mas shopping twice, and have managed to do nothing more than to add to my already full closets (lot of skeletons in there.) I had to look in the mirror as I left Harry Rosen today to make sure I didn't have Tootsie Pop written on my forehead because I sure feel like a sucker.

When I was a kid they had these clothes called Garanimals (I'm not a linguist, but I think it's a cross between garment and animal). You simple matched the tag on the shirt, say in this case a zebra, with the label on pants, another zebra, and you had a matching outfit. I always thought it was kind of funny because the clothes were for the ages of like 3 and 10. When I grew up, nobody picked out their own clothes at that age, so all it was saying is that North America was full of tasteless mothers.

Anyhow, all I need is for somebody to match the zebras for me and I will buy it every time. I literally just have to go in with a blindfold and ear muffs on and grab the one item I need instead of the six I don't. So the budget for everyones x-mas gift has gone down, sorry.

I have to hit the pub to smooth the pre-trip jitters. See you next week.