The Gravy Pot

"The Wrestler"

2009-04-18T20:42:00.005-03:00

Just so there's no confusion, that last post was an April Fool's thing. Everything is good here at the Cook house, except for my revolving door of health problems, the latest of which is this pain in my lower back.

We've seen a few movies over the last little while that I'd like to talk about, in theatres, one on DVD. We saw "Watchmen" in regular theaters and IMAX, "Coraline" in digital 3D, and "The Wrestler" on disc.

Seeing "The Wrestler" in theatres was tough to do, because it just wasn't there long. It's a small budget movie, from auteur director Darren Aronofsky, and I was especially interested to see his work because he's doing the "RoboCop" reboot next. "Robo", at least the first film, is one of my favorite all time movies. I doubt it can be made as good as Paul Verhoeven's version, where he had his own stamp on satire and dialogue with ultra-violence blended in so seamlessly.

Mickey Rourke's Randy 'the Ram' Robinson is a mirroring of his own life, I don't know if it was intentional on the writer's part or not. Rourke's had a tough life after some modest success in the 80s with films like "9 1/2 Weeks", "Wild Orchid" and most recently with "Sin City". Hollywood's basically left him for dead for the most part as an actor though, and seeing Randy trudge through life in this movie, as a wrestler who was once on top of the world but has come crashing down and is just trying to make ends meet and maybe get his life back together, it's a heartbreaking tale to follow, for sure.

Being a pro wrestling fan myself, I was worried what the take on this film was going to be like. Was it going to be campy? Were they really going to take this seriously, or were they going to make one of those old Hulk Hogan or John Cena movies that have tanked or are tanking now? Rourke threw himself into the part. Aronofsky did a great service to wrestling fans by doing research into how the circuit works, how things are done and how the human beings underneath the characters in pro wrestling live and try to survive. Truly, not many do survive. A pro wrestler's life expectancy does not average beyond their 40s. "The Wrestler" shines a light on why this is so.

Randy is a proud character. He's a humbled one, but proud. He takes his profession seriously, even if some of those around him don't, most markedly the boss he works for at a supermarket where he takes a job at the deli section. The guy constantly chides him and belittles him because he's in the position of power where Randy needs the job he has, so he doesn't contest him. Until later on (that's the extent of spoilage here). Living in a trailer park where he has a hard time keeping up with the bills, to the extent where he's locked out of his own mobile in the beginning of the film, you see Randy as a gentle kind of everyman who's down on his luck and fights just to stay alive. Literally. He takes wrestling gigs in tiny halls where hardly anyone shows up to see the shows. You see him at an autograph session that has no turnout. It's wrenching to see him go through it all, and when you see him struggling to win back the love of his estranged daughter, it ultimately hammers home the levels his desperation will drive him to, to reclaim success and love in his life that seemingly is lost forever. He does find hope in love in a stripper played by Marisa Tomei, but she keeps him at arms length for the most part, despite his efforts to win her over. In the climax when we see what matters to him the most in his life, we learn how little he trusts anyone, and indeed how much he hates himself, but longs to be "the Ram".

A number of wrestlers saw this movie, and pretty well all of them loved it. The only one who really didn't think much of it was Vince McMahon, czar of the WWE himself, but the guy's sensitive to anything or anyone that puts wrestlers in a bad light anyway. The show's a good watch, but doesn't have any of the Hollywood trappings of a music score or sticky sweet moments that would endear itself to a massive audience. Doesn't matter..."The Wrestler" got lots of acclaim and made a clear profit, and earned Rourke a nomination for Best Male Actor in the '08 Academy Awards. He did win the Golden Globe for it though, for what that's worth. I'd give "The Wrestler" a solid 9 out of 10, for its brave acting and directing and uncompromising ending.

Coming up..... "Watchmen" and "Coraline".

hard times

2009-04-01T19:10:00.002-03:00

shutting down. due to loss of my job and being forced to have to move out (not knowing where yet), janice will be living at her mom's house with lex for the time being till we figure things out. we should know more hopefully tomorrow and i'll post it here.

thanks for visiting.

Mike & Janice

"Everytime I Close My Eyes"

2009-03-04T21:42:00.002-04:00

I drove into the parking lot that evening, amongst a full complement of cars there and exited my car as I made my way in the building. Not far in I found Darren, standing there, looking a bit worn, but he still greeted me with a smile, decked out in his dress shirt and pants with a Winnie the Pooh tie.

Darren is the guy who replaced Craig at work. When I first started work at Vail's, Craig was hired just days before me. Working with the guy wasn't easy. He's a nice enough fellow, but didn't take directions or respond to authority very well. Getting to know the guy, he had a tough life. I don't think he had much of an upbringing, as he mentioned growing up in foster homes. It's a small reflection on what might be a rather sharp indicator as to where he comes from. Craig is in his early 50's. After two months of my dealing with him as a co-worker in my department at work, which requires two of us, I realized not only was I doing my job, I was doing his, because I had to check his work and correct whatever he did. Essentially doing my job x 2 1/2. Despite this, there was next to no stress compared to the last place I worked six months prior. My friend and trainer Marshall told me 'better days are coming', and Craig's position was replaced by a guy about my wife's size, only he had a goatee, which I'm thankful Janice does not. Among other things. He's about a year older than I am, and Darren caught onto his job more in one day than Craig did in two months. I was relieved.

Along the way, I got to know Darren more, as we work more or less side by side. He's a hockey nut to the highest degree. He collects tons of hockey memorabilia, autographs, figurines, pictures, knick-knacks, you name it. It's his hobby.

"You married, Mike?" he queried one day. "Yup. Been with my wife around 16 years, married for ten. You?"

"I've been married 16 years. Been with her since just after high school," he proudly proclaimed. He sounded like a happy man comfortable in his surroundings and thankful to be where he is. He was a chef by trade for years, and had enough of it and took the job with us at Vail's, where he's given his weekends off, something he said he'd never had in his life until now. "It's weird," he'd say. "[his wife]Maureen just isn't used to seeing me home on a Saturday or Sunday!" When Wednesday came around one week, I told him, "happy hump day." "Hump day??" he looked at me like a Martian with three heads. "What's a hump day?"

"Hump day, man, you know...Wednesday? Middle of the week?"

"Oh. That what that is?" He laughed heartily, his Edmonton Oilers ball hat loosening as he guffawed at the new term, at least to him. "I've never had a work week like everyone else, so I don't know what a hump day is!" We got a good laugh out of that. He went home that night and told his wife what a hump day was. She laughed out loud at the fact he didn't realize it, he thought maybe it was the day of the week a dog decided to get his jollies off on his owner's leg or something.

Darren and Maureen had a child that didn't live very long years ago. It was a heartbreak to them that was tough to get behind them, and perhaps they didn't. They tried for years and couldn't seem to have another child. It was just one of mother nature's choices. They got everything else; a house that they paid off, lots of true blue friends, and now Darren got a job that he feels good with. He'd truly had enough of the chef's life. I was elated to have him around. Truly good hearted, if you've got a cold, he'll be the first to whip out a pack of Fisherman's Friend and leave the pack where you can get more. He knows I'm a big Red Sox fan, so he brought in some things for me to have: Red Sox figurines, a 30 year old Jim Rice glass (Jim Rice is my all-time favorite ball player), a Red Sox shot glass, and a few other things. I thanked him profusely for that, and he'd respond with "ah, it's nothing - I'm a hockey fan anyway!"

You get the idea: Darren's a pretty happy go lucky guy. Grateful for whatever he gets and willing to share whatever he has. Well, nice guys don't always have it that good.

Darren walked into his house after work one day and found his wife on the floor with empty pill bottles scattered beside her. She'd taken an overdose in an attempt to end her own life, and he called frantically for an ambulance. Over the next 48 or so hours, with his wife on life support and dialysis and Darren clinging to hope at her side, she passed away.

The news hit the plant at what had happened and there was an eerie silence and stillness in the air. We all walked around in a daze, and all I could think about was Darren. All I could picture was him sleeping alone every night after spending most of his life with the woman he was devoted to. The boss graciously told Darren to take all the time he needed, and not to worry about his job, it'll be there for him when he's ready to come back.

The thoughts of Darren's plight were swarming my consciousness constantly. I would put myself in his place, and realize that I don't think I would be able to cope with it at all. I prayed at church for him and his relatives, that they'd be strong to get through it. Janice did the same. She was heartbroken at the story the more I told her how close Darren and Maureen were. Marshall knew both of them for years, and he was beside himself both for Darren, and for the fact he wouldn't see Maureen again.

I had to work for two people again in Darren's abscence, with no problem doing it whatsoever. One night I worked 12 hours, and rushed out so I could get to the viewing of Darren's wife at Ferguson Knowles Funeral Home. I walked into the building still in my work clothes, and there Darren was, with his best friend and co-worker Doug by his side with his wife, like guardian angels. Darren offered me a brave smile. I wondered about the Winnie the Pooh tie. I signed the book, and entered into the viewing room full of strangers, to me anyway, and knelt before the closed casket of Maureen's and said prayers, appealing to Jesus Christ for her swift passage into Heaven. I watched a video montage on the TV screen they had of a collection of photos from their past. Seeing those pictures, it was hard not to smile and cry at once. The sight of them so young together, knowing they were kids in love, and stuck together through all the years, was bittersweet in the truest sense. I'd never met Maureen, but tried my best to get to know as much as I could through those pictures. It was all I was going to know, after all.

I left the room and walked over one more time to Darren to offer my condolences once more. "You going to be okay, Darren? I can't imagine even for a second what you must be going through, I am so, so sorry." "Well..." he offered.... "you know this tie...she loved Winnie the Pooh and Tigger." He welled up and I allowed him to get his composure. "Mike, everytime I close my eyes, I see my wife there." I well up just typing that.

The next day, the boss closed up the plant so we could all go to the funeral. It was a packed place. None other than the great Father Carroll presided over the proceedings, and as it turned out, he also was there when Darren and Maureen lost their child. He was called upon once again to provide strength and support for Darren and his family. Father Carroll's words were brilliant during the service, as always. He gave a story..... a child sits on a dock and looks out over the water, gazing into the sunset shimmering over the open sea. His uncle comes to him and says, "what do you think is out there?" The boy answered, "the Orient." His uncle, affirming the answer, said "well! How did you know that? You can't see it." The boy answered, "no, uncle, but I know because my father told me. He'd been there and came back and told me, and I haven't been there but I believe it, because he told me." Jesus died, and came back to his apostles and told them Heaven waits for them. He's been there. And He says don't sweat the small stuff, because this life is only the beginning, for what awaits you is the greatest reward for believing. Maureen believed.

And though you can say Maureen chose to end her own life, I would choose to reason it differently. Maureen suffered from a mental illness that wasn't properly treated. No one knows what she dealt with. We do know she suffered tremendous guilt for not carrying her daughter to life. Though no fault of her own, she couldn't bear the burden. To me, Maureen did not commit suicide. She died due to complications of her mental illness. She was obviously not in her right of mind.

They brought the casket back down the aisle at the end of the service, and my heart broke at watching Darren place his hand on the casket with tears rolling down his face, with his and her family all around. My friend, my newfound buddy Darren, his heart has been broken in a way hopefully none of us will know of. Now it's our job, his friends, his family, his co-workers, to provide the support he needs so desperately.

Do me a favour, if you're kind enough to read my humble blog, here. Go to your loved ones, give them a big hug and a kiss, and tell them how much you love them. Leave NO doubt about it, for you don't know what's going through their hearts or minds at any given time.

But, you can provide very tasty food for thought.

God bless. And may God keep you, Maureen.

2009-03-03T23:18:00.000-04:00

http://ragnarstation.blogspot.com/

A quick look at what's happening today, everyday.

2009-02-19T22:24:00.001-04:00

Mikearoonie's Survivor Blog

Tooth be told....

2009-02-04T20:16:00.003-04:00

Owwwwww.... at least I was able to eat, finally.

We endured another snowstorm, and we survived shoveling another driveway. Janice and me both had that task this morning as another winter storm dumped a bionic buttload of white stuff on us all once more. Lexy got to sleep in for what is now the fifth snow day for school this school year. Reluctantly, we got dressed and grabbed shovels and took to the white dunes of the driveway. Monday, we went to the Y and did our workouts, I think both of us probably overdoing it. I upped my weights and Janice did too, I think. Up yours! No, seriously... I don't think either of us realized we overdid it until the next morning when we moved about as fast as a new Vanilla Ice album on the pop charts. It wasn't a very good day to get around, and things just didn't improve today, either. As we began to unblock the driveway, at some point or another both of us screwed our backs up. For me it was, what do they call them these days? ...an oblique, I think, right up the side in my back. Seeing as my job involves working on my feet all day, much of it standing in virtually one spot, it made moving around a little stiffer than usual. Oh boy, there was this part in the day though, that Marshall told us a joke in the lunchroom that I have to share with you. Not really a joke as much as a recollection when he worked at Wal Mart long ago. A kid came into the store one day, sporting a spiked mohawk with his hair dyed red, and a co-worker says to the kid, "you know, I screwed a chicken once when I was young. I think you're my son." Well holy Lord, I laughed till I was in tears. But I digress...

I had to leave work early today because I had to get to a dentist appointment with Dr. Laltoo, whom we were referred to by my brother Rick after we'd had enough of the last butcher we were seeing. The guy does really good work, much like the dentist I'd had that retired recently. I had what the old dentist used to call a 'fender bender', or a broken tooth, that needed repairing. So Dr. Laltoo froze the thing pretty solid. I could've taken a right cross from Mr. T and laughed in his face. And had a whole lot more work done... but yeah, so I was in and out of there within 40 minutes. He said in about an hour and a half I'll be thawed out enough to eat something, or something. Anyway, I went home, picked up the munchkin and brought her to her guitar lesson, and went to Costco to get a few things, including supper for the ladies. None for me, my mouth was still in Zombieland. I got Lex her favorite chicken strips and fries and brought her home while I drove to the post office to bring Janice her Dunn's smoked meat sandwich and drop off the car. Janice is on chapter 3 of the Watchmen book now, just finding out about Dr. Manhattan's 'multiple personalities' and flippity floppity testicular fortitude, which evidently is visible all throughout the film. Brings a whole new meaning to blue balls. So, I came home after that, and.... Owwwwwwwwwwwwww.... hurts to open my mouth, but at least now I can eat. No smoked meat or chicken strips for me though. Creamed peas on toast it is! Four slices. Damn near ate the entire soup can and peas. And here I am now with a Hershey's chocolate almond and toffee nugget melting in my mouth and typing this out.

Looks like we'll be heading over to Rick's on Friday night to see all the folks, and figuring out what we'll do about a little wine order. Me good 'ol bro has this really good raspberry wine he let us try out, and it's probably one of the two best wines I've ever had. Don't know what the other one is or even if there is one. We also may see if we can convince Rick to go see KISS with us in Halifax in July. It was finally officially announced, something a lot of us knew about for some time now. I'm happy about it, but I much prefer the indoor shows. But this is a perfect opportunity for Alexandra to finally see the boys in action, as for a long time she thought it was something she'd never see in her lifetime.

Moving is on our minds the closer we get to springtime. Soon we'll get our tax refund, and then use it to have the house rewired to make it that much more enticing to a buyer. Not to mention, there's no guarantee as to when we're actually getting out of here, and it needs to be done. Besides getting out of a neighbourhood we're.... tired of, though, it'd really be nice if Lexy had a room bigger than a hole in the wall. There are so many reasons to get out of here, it would take the rest of the night to write it all.

Guess I'll sign out for the time being. See the snazzy little Watchmen movie countdown widget on the homepage here? Doesn't mean I'm anxious or anything.

Fire up the colortinis now, boys and girls, and watch those pictures as they fly through the air and across the snowy hills of Moncton, and beyond.

Good night.

I'm Watching...

2009-02-01T23:27:00.003-04:00

It's Super Bowl Sunday! WOOOO! Go Steelers Go!!!

Ah who'm I foolin'? Football sucks. I don't like it. I don't have the patience at all for it. I'm not really a sports guy at all to be honest. I love my baseball and 'fake' wrestling and that's about it. But anyway, here we are at the end of said Sunday, only a half hour left of it.

The air still has that dryness to it from the frigid cold outside, and as I look outside in the midnight-teased air, I see clouds blanketing the stars above them while the chill distills the oxygen surrounding our fine city. Apparently a storm is on the way for Tuesday yet again. It hasn't been a terrible winter really, but after last winter it's hard to outdo it. It's certainly been colder. The car takes a bit longer to get its mojo in the morning, and compounding the situation our scraper broke. Credit cards it is.

This weekend I took it upon myself to finish up reading my 'Watchmen' book. All's I can really say about it is, WOW. Anyone who's reading this, do yourself a favor, head to a comic store (I got mine at The Comic Hunter just off the corner of Main and Lutes, you can also get it at another comic store on the corner of Mountain Rd and ... Maple, I think), plunk down $15 or whatever it is and get to reading this thing before the movie hits on March 6. It took me a while to read it, but I'm a fairly slow reader anyway. But Saturday, I picked it up and couldn't put it down. There are 12 chapters about 30 pages each, each chapter separated by these little get-up-to-speed articles pertaining to the story. The book has several 'holy shit!!' moments, especially the last couple of chapters, and I'm dying to see how they're going to make it happen on the big screen. I'm getting Janice to read it starting tomorrow so I can talk to someone about it. "So what's it about?" you must be asking. Let me try to explain it as best I can... there once was a group of masked vigilantes, in the story of course, called the Minutemen, dating back to the 30s and 40s. Eventually they split up, but generations passed and eventually the Watchmen got together. This is summing it up, bear in mind. In the context of the novel, Richard Nixon put a bill through the U.S. senate that passed into law enabling presidents to serve multiple terms, so you see Nixon as president right into the 80s. In the book, the Vietnam War actually turned out to be a success, thanks to a character named Dr. Manhattan, an omnipotent being that came about via a nuclear accident long ago. Other than him, there are no really true superheroes, but costumed men and women taking justice into their own hands. Some are embraced, some are not, and some shouldn't be when they are, like a character named The Comedian, arguably the most controversial character in the book. In the opening pages, The Comedian meets his demise getting killed by someone that the rest of the book forces you to speculate, while other characters get offed along the way. And as the story progresses, the arms race also does that happened in the 80s, and the threat of nuclear war builds the closer you get to the end of the story. None of the Watchmen are truly villains, but all have their varying degrees of shadiness. Dr. Manhattan turns out to be the stabilizer in the world, because his allegiance is to the U.S., at least until events force him to re-evaluate whether he should be on side with anyone at all. By the time the story reaches its climax, plotlines and situations resolve themselves satisfyingly enough while still leaving you asking questions about the present day real world, and you really do have to agree with the story's ultimate notion, expressed by Dr. Manhattan. Read it and get back to me.

Today we did our pop run, when Shoppers put on a sale for 710ml six packs for $2.50 and we got our stash to last us a while. We decided to head to our friend/my ex-boss Dawn's new store by the train station and check out her digs. Nice store, not quite as big as I'd envisioned. And I finally ran into Dawn herself, who I hadn't seen since she last left the Champlain Mall location when I was working there. When Dawn left that store, my love for SDM rather quickly eroded as well. But now she has her own store, and she'll turn the place into a gold mine, no doubt about it. But I am concerned as to her state of health. On her worst days, Dawn still looks hotter than a nuclear tea kettle, but you could see the wear and tear the new store is having on her. I do hope that she finds that time to kick back sooner than later, and be with her handsome young son as much as she can. There were around a dozen empty carts outside the store that I took upon myself to bring back in, since I still carry a torch for my ex boss!

I finally got my friend Kelly's wedding music video together, after a few false starts on that damned PC of ours. I'll be doing all that stuff on the Mac here as soon as I figure it out, but with the PC and Windows Movie Maker, the damn thing freezes up a lot and I lose a lot of my work a lot of the time. But, it's done, and you can see it HERE if you so choose to.

It's probably a good idea to get to bed now. It's past midnight and I'm getting droopy eyed.

Until then, fire up those colortinis. Watch the pictures fly through the YouTube airwaves with Kelly's wedding video.

Good night.

Spread Liberally

2009-01-28T20:49:00.003-04:00

Might be about time for a change at the Gravy Pot, eh? I've had the same layout here for awhile. But familiarity is good too. I like my pink and black attack.

The snow's putting the hammer down on Moncton right now as I peer out the window. Looks like shoveling will be in order tomorrow. I feel a chill permeating the air in the house as the wind blows outside and the artificial fireplace provides a meek glow to the livingroom, as one curly bulb illuminates the ceiling while Lexy does homework on the PC and Janice tends to chores in the kitchen. It was spaghetti night tonight. Kinda sucked, really, because we ran out of fresh garlic, and we like to throw in several cloves when we cook the sauce.

Today Michael Ignatieff, the Liberal party leader, informed the public that he will not support a coalition between his party and the NDP and Bloc Quebecois to overthrow the Conservatives in a non confidence motion on the budget just tabled in Ottawa this week. Thank God. If a coalition government had happened, ALL credibility with the Liberals would've been lost permanently with me. Jack Layton is positively the biggest horse's ass there is in politics these days, Canadian or otherwise. He's nothing but a blatant opportunist hungry for power at any cost. If that guy had his way, I warn you, Canada would slowly morph into this crazy new agey land of bullshit that would be the laughing stock of the G8 countries. I trust the Bloc more than that guy, for God's sake. Everything is unfolding like I thought it would, though... I knew the Liberals would lose that last election, though I voted for them anyway because it's everyone's civic duty, and I knew Dion would be gone shortly afterwards and that Ignatieff would replace him. I didn't think he would get ushered in so soon, but that's perfectly fine. Now, I don't see an election happening until the fall, by which time the country will have a better feel for Ignatieff's centerist liberals, and they should eke out a majority government by a slim margin, getting rid of Harper's reign once and for all. How can you trust the Conservatives, when all throughout the last election virtually all they campaigned on was that only the Liberals would put Canada into a deficit situation? Now we're stuck in a deficit for at least five years, and the Conservatives had already blown the $13 billion deficit they inherited from Chretien's last government. And this is not over, folks. Finance minister Jim Flaherty is sweating right now like Pam Anderson at a spelling bee, and doing his job about as well.

I read an article by Dr. Gott in the newspaper a couple of days ago that prompted me to consider getting my thyroid checked. It may be part or all of the reason for some of my negative outlook sometimes. I won't get into the details, just that the article kind of painted a picture that was remarkably similar to my own situation. I also need to be seen about my wrist; Janice thinks I may have carpal tunnel syndrome and might need a brace. I've had problems with my left wrist for years, and it's getting kind of worse.

Spring is fast approaching, and so is the time where we'll be able to spiff up the house a little bit. The time is right to search for a new place, that's for sure. We had considered the idea of offering to buy the old family house on Emmerson Street (or Cassidy now), but after carefully thinking about that... I've come to a conclusion that it isn't the same neighbourhood anymore, and that a bi level house is most suited for us, with a finished basement. If Janice's arthritis progresses to the point where it gets tougher to get around, a bungalow just makes more sense. I think, in retrospect, that the old Emmerson Street changed to Cassidy right about the same time Mom left that house. In a funny way, maybe that's a sign that there are some things you can't go back to. My little family has to make its own memories now, as we have been.

Time to sign off. I have a wedding video of my friend Kelly that I have to edit. See you soon.

Wings

2009-01-27T22:19:00.002-04:00

It's a frosty Tuesday night, January 27 as I write this latest entry. My big little punkin is in bed right now, and the wife is beside me on the couch as CTV Newsnet plays out on the telly, while we ponder relocating to the bedroom for the 11 o'clock news. A snowstorm is heading our way, apparently, set to touch down tomorrow night, stretching into Thursday. It's been bitterly cold in the last number of days. This has been a chilly winter, leaving a lot of castrated brass monkeys everywhere.

It's been a little while since I actually typed out an entry about what I've been doing, hasn't it? Now's a good a time as any to get back on track.

The weekend that just passed by was kind of a mixed one. Saturday, Janice worked and I did the shopping for groceries and stuff while she did, then Sunday we got ready for a busy day. The schedule included a road trip to Halifax to the IMAX theatre to catch The Dark Knight one more time, then come home to eat and head back out to the theatre here in Moncton to see WWE's Royal Rumble on the big screen. None of us had seen a pay per view on the big screen yet, so we thought we'd give it a shot.

We got Maggie (or, our Magellan GPS) to guide us into Halifax, since last time we visited the IMAX she took us straight there. We left town at 11 am for the 2 o'clock show, and we were just on the outskirts of Halifax around 1:30 when the GPS steered us in a rather odd direction. I blame myself for it, because I knew in my gut something was wrong. I have a history of not knowing my way in and around Halifax, so having the GPS get me around is kind of a godsend. Not this time. Believe it or not, it wound up bringing us to Musquodobit Harbor. By the time we realized this wasn't some kind of funky shortcut, we backtracked and it was pretty hopeless from that point on. Janice and me both lost our tempers various times with our frustration of not being able to get back on track, and we opted an hour after movie showtime to just head back on the highway and come home. The worst of this is the waste of money. We'd paid $35 for IMAX tickets online already and another $30 for gas, plus all the tolls NS charges on their highways. It was an expensive, fruitless mission that tested our tempers and tried our relationship for a good six hours in the car all day. But, now that all is said and done, we know what we have to do to remedy this. Join CAA! Hey, to my discredit, I'm no good on the road when it comes to getting around. That's why I got a GPS. I never figured our GPS would throw us so far off the beaten trail. I mean, WAY off. And it's not the first time.

Anyway, we went to see the Royal Rumble in the PM and everything kind of just reversed. We had a great time. Alexandra's really taken a liking to the WWE and had a great time, and we brought our friend Greg to see it with us. Greg's a lifelong fan of wrestling and he really enjoyed seeing it on the big screen. At the end of the night, we all agreed it'd be a good idea to make a return visit to see Wrestlemania the same way. We couldn't see every pay per view this way though. I mean, the tickets are $16. Kinda pricey to do that every month, especially all three of us.

It was back to work on Monday, and it's been good at work. I can't really write a whole lot about it, because it'd probably make for a boring read. I can say that my supe Marshall is one hell of a good guy, the kind who's so good natured I've never seen him crack even once. He always looks on the bright side of things. Today was kind of funny, him and me, out of the blue, kicked into singing "Bud the Spud" in the space where he does repairs on fabrics. Everybody jokes around all the time there. I lent Marshall season 5 of "Six Feet Under" on DVD, and he got to watching it and couldn't stop. He's taken a real liking to the Clare character. I didn't tell him yet I have a niece that's a dead ringer for her.

The wife is having a bit of a tough time trying to find the right way to sleep lately. We decided to take my brother Pete's advice on trying Breathe Right strips, to try to alleviate her snoring, as an alternative to her CPAP machine, which is a mask she has to wear at night to force air in her lungs, because she briefly stops breathing sometimes in her sleep. Snoring is a part of that. And a lack of sleep on both our parts is also a part of it. The strips worked good the first few days, but last night only God knows how many cords of wood she sawed last night, which left the two of us kind of bleary eyed for the day today. Actually she passed out here on the couch beside me just now. It was a bit rough for me at work today, where I didn't sleep much, plus I had these cinnamon buns we got at Costco that raunched my stomach out for the whole day. Cripes, I thought I was gonna woof toward the end. I held on, though, until my shift was over and came home, balked at my usual YMCA workout and just took it easy. It seemed to help me get better. Right now as I type this I feel mostly better.

Alexandra has been a bit iffy in school as of late. I had a talk with her today on the meaning of credibility and responsibility and honor, and what it means to have those things. She's been tending to pass the buck on her shortcomings these days, and I stressed to her how important it is that she own up to her mistakes and lack of effort, learn from it and keep moving forward. She's a smart kid. She listened to everything I told her and I believe will act upon the words that I shared with her. Janice also put her two cents in.

I'm a little excited at the prospect of KISS finally coming to the Maritimes. It appears they'll be hitting Halfiax at the Citadel Hill for a show sometime this summer, and they've been teasing the media about it for the last couple of weeks now. I find it interesting that I actually wrote letters to the Times-Transcript, one suggesting Moncton bring in Paul McCartney for a show, then shortly after Halifax openly courted bringing him there. It didn't happen though. Then I wrote a letter suggesting KISS come. Again, not long after, rumours flew that they were to play in Halifax. And now, it looks like it's going to happen. It makes me think if I suggest someone else come to Moncton in the paper, perhaps they'll read it in Halifax and take me seriously since Moncton won't!

A sidebar to that topic is that when KISS' drummer Eric Singer was in town with Alice Cooper for an autograph signing, to which he was incredibly friendly and gracious to the three of us, I'd suggested to my friend Pete (who was actually Eric's chauffeur from St. John to Moncton between shows, as the place that sponsored Eric's appearance was Live Wire Records, a place where Pete works) that perhaps we should get a petition together to lobby to bring a KISS show to the Maritimes. Well, that was an idea that picked up a lot of steam, and signatures, and a petition was presented to Mr. Singer, and now we have a show for Halifax. Coincidence?

I wish to acknowledge a few people that commented here at the Pot in recent weeks. Thanks for the advice, brother Pete. Pete is the watchdog of the Cook family, the senior member who's the sentinel of the clan to make sure the ship is tight. He piped in when he felt it was needed and as usual, is right on the button. Thank you brother.

Roy and Rick also dropped in, and Rick's ladyfriend May also offered her thoughts. My brothers are like teammates on an all star team; all of them important enough to make a difference. We are all always in touch and their life experience is invaluable, to say the least. May is one of the kindest, warmest souls I know. She's become a close and personal friend, and indeed, family member as time has gone on.

My friends to the end Cindy and Michelle are always there to chime in, too, and these two mean the world to me. Cindy's kind, honest and open heart is a breath of fresh air, and her affectionate nature is something all of us can learn from. Michelle is a loyal, stand-up girl who'll be the first to offer a hand up when you're down. I'm more than lucky to have these ladies in my corner.

Of course, last but not least, there is my wife, Janice. Always the wind beneath my wings. She's the pillar of strength on which I stand, and without which I would crumble. I'm more than blessed to have this angel on loan from God to help keep me strong and thrive, in a world I struggle to understand sometimes and search to have patience for. No one is tougher, smarter, more passionate and more dedicated than my wife is to our family and to keeping the machine that is our household so well oiled. Any success in my life is a tribute to her persistence to help me succeed and progress. I am humbled at my fortune of having to be her husband.

And of course, to those of you who read this blog, regularly or time to time and don't make it known you have, thanks for having the interest to take the top off the Gravy Pot and see what's cooking in my life. The mere fact that you clicked a link to come here at all is testament that I have angels not always visible at my side looking out for me. Thanks for being around.

See you next time.

Snow and Roses

2009-01-24T17:37:00.002-04:00

I watched Will Smith's movie, "Ali", a couple of weeks ago. Then I saw it again last week. It sure makes me miss those glory days of boxing, when the heavyweight title meant something and there was still some integrity to the sport. When I was a little kid, I used to love watching Muhummad Ali on ABC's Wide World of Sports in his latest title fight, back before there was any such thing as pay per views. He'd be fighting Joe Frazier or George Foreman or whomever, putting on his usual theatrics in and out of the ring, basically laying down the prototype for what I believe is professional wrestling nowadays. He made boxing entertaining and accessible to everyone the same way Hulk Hogan made wrestling that way later on. Anyway, watching "Ali", I kind of whizzed back in time a bit. I remembered those days, the cars, the styles, the time pre-internet when things were a lot simpler and you actually had to do legwork to get things done. I remember the days when Ali was in his prime and how exciting his bouts were, I think in part because he didn't always win. But it was really his character that made everything such a thrill. It made me realize, there won't ever be another Muhammad Ali again. I paused to think that this happens all throughout history. There'll never be another Mel Blanc, the guy who did most of the voices for the Bugs Bunny cartoons. For me, there'll never be another Eric Carr, the drummer who replaced Peter Criss in KISS and died of cancer the same day Freddie Mercury did.

It makes me wonder and reflect. For that matter, there'll never be another Thora and Wilfred Cook, my mom and dad. As of last year, my uncle Jack's gone. It forces me to stop and take notice, that I, we, have to appreciate everything and everyone around us. Obama became president this year in the U.S. Something of that magnitude will never happen again. There are things all around us we have to appreciate, or learn to appreciate, because as time slips by, as each grain of sand drops into the bottom half of the hourglass, it's gone. I sit here and look at my sweet little girl sit in the recliner of the livingroom watching cartoons on TV, and I know she won't be 12 forever. I remember wishing when she was 3 how she would just stay that way, but here we are, everything the same but different. I miss those days, but I know, as time teaches us, a time will come when I'll miss the times during which I type this very blog. In a nutshell, I think the word "appreciation" is defined in everything I just wrote. Everything must be appreciated. What you have is so much more important than what you don't, and what you will have or won't have is just what's meant to be. Ringo Starr said once, stop and smell the roses.

There are times that were better, there are times that were worse. But time itself is a gift. I think how we handle that gift and how we appreciate it defines who each of us is as a human being, how the world will evolve, our own worlds around us.

It's cold outside right now. Freezing cold. I hate the cold, the snow, I hate winter really. I hate the sicknesses that come with it, the accidents, the bills to keep ourselves warm. But if it's cold outside, it's opportunity to be closer to loved ones inside and watch movies, or play games or shop, or write blogs. You can sit by a window with a fireplace going and realize how wonderful it is to be warm on such a cold day.

Each day is its own work of art. True art is in the eye of the beholder. Everyone sees something different. It's time I chose to see the beauty in the art that each day presents to us.

Thanks for dropping by. I'm going to enjoy the evening with my wife and daughter now.

The Benchwarmer

2009-01-13T22:37:00.002-04:00

The icy chill is upon us. Tuesday night here at the Cook house, and American Idol's premiere episode of the season is on (not related to that chill), and a snowy night is ahead of us to be followed by a few days of deep, deep freeze. Welcome to the Maritimes in January.

I've got an idea for a book. Seriously. A real book. Based on my own life in grade 7, when I was 12. Note that I said "based on", I'd have to embellish some of my recounting a bit. But it's a solid framework for a story that I have, and I feel a little pretentious to call it a "book", because it never will be one, I know that. But for my own satisfaction, to see I can actually do it, I may just go right ahead. I think what I would do is post a chapter at a time in a separate blog, while only leaving maybe three chapters at a time online. The trick I think would be to find the time to do it.

Speaking of books, I'm still reading the graphic novel, "Watchmen", which is damn friggin' good. A graphic novel, by the way, for the uninitiated, is a novel-length comic book. "Watchmen" is a one-off title that came out in the '80s, to incredible fanfare and kudos from critics from all walks of life. It's actually on Time Magazine's top 100 novels of all time. It's unlike anything I've ever read, that's for sure. It's incredibly well thought out. I don't know where the author got the inspiration for the subject matter, other than the cold war and threat of nuclear armageddon back in that era, but Alan Moore is a genius. He also wrote a smaller, Prestige Format graphic novel called "The Killing Joke" which is one of my favorite reading titles ever. "Watchmen", amidst a ton of legal troubles right now, is due to be released March 3 in theatres, and I can't wait for it. In the meantime though, I gotta finish that book.

The job's still going well. Today was the slowest day ever, but that's no big deal. It's remarkable how stress free this job is. I got a raise with my first check this year, always nice. And the second of two questionable characters that work there is now gone as of last week. For me to sit here and type in how great life at work is would make for a rather boring outing here, I think, so suffice to say, worklife is going great.

Although, I do have a nemesis in the workplace. She reportedly speaks ill of me behind my back on regular basis. I don't take it to heart too much, given she doesn't have a whole lot of fans herself. This person is not at my workplace, she's at Janice's. Janice doesn't have to work with her either, though, because she manages the post office there, and the plumber in question works in the store part. Jealousy is pervasive here, in that this person wanted Janice's managerial position but lost out to my wife. You can be gracious in defeat or be a jealous, bitter loser. She chose the latter. Tough titties.

I got feedback on the last blog posting I did from friends and family who were quite reassuring and supportive. It made me wonder if that post seemed like I was reaching out... and it made me wonder if subconsciously, I was. I got accolades for my honesty, which upon re-reading what I wrote, actually was just that, wasn't it? When it comes to writing, I'm not bashful at all about expressing myself. Verbally it's not going to happen. Whoever knows me knows that much. Thanks to everyone for the kind words. I light up a bit whenever I see a comment or e-mail relating to my latest banter.

So what's on my mind -- there must be something if I'm posting, right? Well, I guess so, kinda sorta. Since I'm being honest about everything, let me throw a word out there that's been riding my ass ever since late summer of 1991: "Underachiever".

Make no mistake about it, I appreciate people telling me how good of a writer I am. I believe it about halfways, but since I haven't been properly schooled in the subject, I wouldn't call myself a writer in any sense but a layman's. I remember in the summer of 1991, I landed the job with Irving Tissue, in what looked to be a career shaping event in my life. I was involved in a long term relationship and was looking at the marriage question a few months later, I had RRSPs with the company, and I was still young with lots of financial promise in my future. It had been years that I struggled through life working midnight shifts at Green Gables without a whole lot of light visible from the end of the distant tunnel. But everything fell into place that summer. It was an exciting time in my life I'll never forget.

Then I broke my foot at work, and everything went to hell from there. I lost my job, lost my girl, and worse, found out my Mom had a fatal dimentia disease. I went from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. I lost my friends too. Everything just seemed to collapse. It was a turning point in my life I feel like I've never fully recovered from. Many other things happened in that same time frame, but those stand out the most.

Years passed by, and I went to computer college with high hopes. I spent $4000 on a course that got me nothing. I tried in vain to get a job with my skills and I was only met with slamming doors, one after the other. Finally, my old pal, Donnie Goguen, the man who have me my first job at Green Gables, hired me on as a driver at his new business, BJ's Subs. I stayed there for 11 years. The wages didn't even approach what I'd made at Irving Tissue, though. Still, that job saved me from what may have been even harder times.

Fast forward to today. I got into Shoppers Drug Mart nearly two years ago, and in spite of some turbulent times, was beginning to build confidence again. I had visions of a career there and moving up in the company. Oddly enough, I ran into a family member that put the brakes on that idea. Back to square one yet again. Now, I'm at Vail's, not as well paying as SDM, but slightly better than BJ's. But like I've noted over and over, the stress there is non-existent.

This doesn't mean that my confidence is on the upswing, though. See, I had it all. I had a taste of that upper middle class life and what it could give me, if only for one summer. It's like winning the lottery, then losing all that money you've won almost as quickly as you got it. My inability to restart the engine and get back to that brief period of glory gnaws at me everyday. I have a wife and a daughter, and I feel all the time like I'm not providing. I don't know any handyman stuff. I'm terrible at socializing. I've become the biggest introvert I know, all stemming back to that late summer in '91. Is it a funk I can snap out of? This is how it is now. It's not a funk. It's basically what I've become, for better or worse. I've noticed over time I'm less and less willing to talk on the phone, to go out with friends, to get out in public in general. Sounds like a job for a shrink, doesn't it?

What this is, is an inferiority complex at work. I feel people judging me, even if they aren't. I can't help but think I'm being sized up against everyone else. I know the standard cliches... the old "you're smart" or "you're so nice!" or "you're so thoughtful". Hey, I appreciate it all, but the fact of the matter is, smart nice and thoughtful doesn't pull you out of the lower middle class all the time. I look around my peers, my friends and my family, and see everyone so much farther ahead. Worst of all is I don't see any hope for improvement. All my brothers have been doing fine from day 1, but I can't seem to get to the batter's box. Everyone's on the field, and I'm still stuck on the bench.

I know what most people would tell me... "you're so lucky to have a wife that loves you, a sweet little girl and a roof over your head." Yeah, no shit. Tell me something I don't know. If I didn't have just one of those things I know how lousy life would be. Fact of the matter is, I see everyone else around me outside jogging, and I'm on the treadmill. I can run too, but I'm not really going anywhere. Yeah yeah, "waaaaaah waaaaah, get him a bottle already." I know. Hey, that's what I'd probably think if I was reading it from someone else.

Anyway, in a nutshell, that's what's happening in my head, folks. Up close and personal. Not sure how I can follow this up, except with that there book I was talking about. There'll be another reason to get on the keys, though, and type up another spilling.

Maybe this was too honest? I dunno.

I'm yawning now, so I better call it a night. Thanks so much for dropping by and checking in on my humble blog. Thank you all for your comments especially. I do know how lucky I am to have such wonderful friends and family.

Till next time, I'll watch from the bench.

Footprints and life scales

2009-01-01T22:13:00.006-04:00

With a new year brings a new day and a new outlook. 2009 is here, leaving 2008 in its wake, and as I look in that rear view mirror I see a place that isn't perfect that had a lot of unexpected hills and valleys. But such is life.

I'm really not the type to believe in new year's resolutions. You can resolve to do things every day if you want, not just in the beginnings of a year. All of us have things in our lives that are imperfect and that need improvement. Maybe new year's day just reminds us of that fact.

So here I am lying in bed with my MacBook typing out a blog upon the close of 2009's first day, with Lexy downstairs in the livingroom watching Gene Simmons' Family Jewels and Janice cleaning a bit in the kitchen, and I endure the peak of what is a fairly tough cold that knows how to make my head and sinuses ache. Enough to scrub a visit to see some family today. The day off was nice, but it's back to work tomorrow. The weather was cold, windy and snowy, the type where you look for footprints in the snow outside to help guide you across to where you're going. It's nice that someone already made that path so you won't misstep, you know?

Work has been pretty good. I've said in the past that it's not a job for brain surgeons or anything, but in truth, it's not a job for lazy people either. It's eight solid hours of work that does require a certain amount of brainpower and numerical and organizational skills. I get my share of appreciation for my efforts, there's no doubt about that. I really can't complain about anything. I'm supposed to be getting a raise with the first check of the new year, and though my wages are somewhat modest, I have to reiterate that there is no price on the fact that there is little to no stress, I get all my weekends off, and I'm working a day job with support from all of my fellow workers. It's made me subscribe to the newspaper. I read it every day during my breaks. I see people from time to time in the obituaries that I've known that have passed away; issues in politics I was unaware of; local news that I was uninformed about. But it's nice having those breaks. When work is done, I have quality family time and great quantity of it as well. Working at Shoppers gave me more money, but I wasn't near as happy there. I can safely say I'm glad I'm gone; I can also assume that I'm blacklisted there, judging from what I've learned since I left. No matter. I'm grateful for the time I was given there and I've moved on.

I turned 43 not long ago. I got birthday greetings from a number of people, which I will note right here in the blog that I thought no one read, but evidently some do, which flatters me. I thank all of those in my family that either said or sent birthday wishes to me, including Rick May and Roy, as well of course as my lovely wife Janice and daughter Lexy, my longtime friends Michelle and Sara and Natalie, my old co-worker from SDM at Lounsbury's Wendy, my co-workers from BJs Diane and of course my faithful pal Cindy, as well as sister Cindy with George, my brother Pete Bonnie and their pooch Corby sent a card in e-mail, and my brother Greg dropped by as well yesterday. If I've missed anyone, please forgive me. Each and every acknowledgement means a whole lot to me. You all know how sentimental I am.

Last night was new year's eve, a time Janice and me spent while I served as a DJ at a wedding for an old friend, Kelly, beside the old Top Deck restaurant at the Crown Plaza hotel here in the city. It was a gathering with about 50 or so people, by my own estimate, and it was a rather glitzy affair. Somewhat anyway; as glitzy as Kelly would let it get. She's not that type, really, so she added her own down to earth flavor to the whole ordeal, which was welcome. The place we were in overlooked the whole city, so that provided quite the backdrop for the proceedings of the chilly evening. There were a few snags with the DJing as relating to my not being able to see the wedding procession going on and my cues, but all in all it turned out pretty nicely. Janice videotaped the night as well, and you'll see on YouTube a few of the things that went on. A couple of things not being something you'd expect to see from the likes of yours truly. During one of those, Janice and me got up to an empty dance floor (during the reception, I ought to add) and had Rick James' "Super Freak" playing, while Janice and me did our own rendition of the dance from "Little Miss Sunshine". If you've seen that movie you know what I'm talking about. Another was a little treat I offered up for Kelly during the playing of "Disco Duck". You'll have to see that to believe it. I'll let your imagination wander until that happens. Wow, talk about a sharp looking bunch of people. I think the only real disappointment worth noting on that night is the service from the hotel staff. For the amount that I know Kelly and JM must have paid to put that thing on, I would have to say they may not quite have gotten their money's worth. Staff was rather ubrupt and rude if you're asking me. Then again, they may not have appreciated my Super Freak/Disco Duck shenanigans. Oh well. I know Janice and Kelly did, and Lexy was completely embarrassed.

Every year around this time, I get a little bit blue about things. I think back on times that I had when Mom was around, and I can never revisit them. I'm not alone in feeling that way during the holiday season. Something else that kind of re-enters my mind is my 40th birthday. I don't get depressed about turning 40, or even more than that. When family members turned 40, I remember the parties that we had for them. All the family always showed up, as well as friends from the past and present, and it was this big deal, quite deservedly too. And then my turn came. All my family was there at Montana's (I'd insisted if a party happened, that it be somewhere that my daughter could be there, as I didn't want it without her). Rick, Greg, Cindy, Roy and Pete from Ontario, only Debbie wasn't there because of her family thing in Welland, but she sent her best wishes. Everyone's significant others were there too. Nephews and nieces showed up. It was wonderful and quite frankly unforgettable. But, not one friend was there. And barely a mention from anyone even in e-mail. No calls.

This made me stop and think, reflect on how I've handled relations in my life. I mean, there were no friends there. Not one! What kind of guy am I, really? Am I the type that actually leaves a footprint in the snow that people will actually follow, good enough that I may guide someone from time to time? If I was gone tomorrow, would it matter a year from now? In short... am I relevant?

Of course I am to my wife and my daughter. I know my little girl adores me. My greatest gift to her, I think, is that I can make her laugh. If you want to make someone remember something, do it with emotion. If you've pissed someone off enough, they'll remember. If you've broken their hearts, they'll remember. And if you've made them laugh, they won't forget. I'm pleased to know I make my daughter laugh every day. My wife and me express our love to each other several times every single day. We hate not being together. When something comes along that swipes our time together away from us, we hate it. I can say that my relevancy is certainly at a premium with my family. But then I wonder that when the day comes that I turn up in the obituaries, will I be one of those people that only makes a few odd people say... "oh, that guy." At church, I've become a reader perhaps in a subliminal sense because I want to make some kind of a contribution, because I haven't made any kind of contributions that have lasting effect any other way. Even on facebook I don't post updates anymore. Instead I check in on everyone else.

Maybe I'm being too introspective. Maybe I just have to get past this time of year. I do wish I could go see Mom and talk about it though. A line drive baseball in the head, three car accidents as a teenager - two with major head injuries, and other concussions from various accidents or circumstances have admittedly compromised my emotional and mental stability to the point where I need medication to stabilize myself. This time of the year is one of those times where I probably overanalyze things or get too sensitive about some matters. It's not something I can change either.

As a brand new year starts and an old decade is coming to a close, we'll wait and see a year from now what there is to look back on. I know as per the natural law of the universe that the bad has to come with the good.

And here's hoping that the good things far outweigh the bad.

The Untravelled Road

2008-12-26T10:59:00.004-04:00

Boxing Day morning is here. It's 11 o'clock and all is well. Today I turn 43 years old, not that I'm counting anymore.

As the year draws to a close, I stop and think about where I was in '07 and where I am now. You just never know where you're going to end up and where time will take you until you get to your destination. For instance, I wouldn't have quite thought a year ago that I wouldn't be with Shoppers Drug Mart anymore. I was happy where I was, and saw a future shining bright with the company. Oh what a difference a year makes. People you don't expect to turn on you, do. My old credo of Don't Trust Anybody sure comes into play there. But, what can you do except roll with the punches. It wasn't all bad. At SDM, I had good wages, a good manager (in the first half), and finally started a retirement plan. By the time spring arrived through its halfway point, the manager was transferring out of the store to be replaced by one I'd never get along with, a family member who worked there would completely turn on me, and my hopes of a future at the company would disintegrate into nothingness before my eyes. Uncertainty glared at me in the face, and I prayed for brighter days. Halloween day would be my last day there, and only three days later I would start my new job at Vail's Fabric Services, and have my eyes opened to a few things in life.

When I started that job on November 3, I was trained by a fellow named Marshall, a tall, blond curly haired gentleman who came to remind me a lot of Bill Clinton. He has a bit of a Nova Scotian drawl in his voice and is constantly upbeat, always looking on the bright side of things, with limitless patience, something I would come to value after working at a place where a lot of people seemed to have none. Marshall has his own story someone like me can learn a few things from.

We're talking about a guy who does carpentry, electrical work, construction, you name it. He's a jack of all trades. And here he is at Vail's working a job that doesn't really reflect his abilities. I asked him why that is. Marshall is divorced, gets along fine now with his ex-wife though, and has a pair of kids that live in N.S. with their mom. But, he pays big time with his child support. His wages were garnished for a time as in the beginning of his split with his wife, leaving him with not much to live on. He left his good paying job to come to Vail's, and had to give up his house to move into his sister's basement, she who also wound up in a divorce and went through a tough time. Marshall's reasoning for working for a lower rate at Vail's is, that there's no point earning more money if it's only going to get taken away from him. His ex is well off where she is. When he rubs elbows with people who are taken with him and they ask him where he works, and he gives them the answer, he loves seeing the responses. Many instantly look down their noses upon his informing them of his line of work. His way of seeing it is that it exposes people for what they truly are. If they want to judge him based on his career choices, he's glad to know where they stand so he doesn't need to be around them.

There's a lot that I can learn from this. I've been told a lot that I should be a journalist, that I should write for a living. I've been made to feel like I don't belong among those who earn three times as much as I do. When I prayed for a job once I left Shoppers that would make me happy, I wound up getting one where I took a $2/hour cut in pay, albeit with more hours, and all my weekends off. The lesson I've learned is this: Life is not gauged by dollar signs, and happiness does not come with a price tag. I work all days, no weekends, and with people who work as a team and all get along with one another. Management is as friendly as the staff is, actually even more so. And I have a boss who constantly tells me I'm doing a good job and how great it is to have me there. These are all foreign things to me. The last time I experienced peace with a job like that, I worked at BJs Subs driving a van six days a week. But I didn't have a lot of time to relax like I do now. Now I have more time and freedom to do things with my wife and daughter, and those are things you can't buy. There is no stress with the job I have now. I haven't experienced a stressful day yet. I know that won't last forever, but I know not to expect everything to do an about face like my last job either. My current co workers in large part have been at that business for 10, 20, 30 years, which says something about working there. That says as well that there is no price tag on their happiness. I'm fortunate to have been dealt this card in life, with numerous signs pointing toward the fact that what I have is what I need at this point in time. I thank God all the time for giving me what I've got, and for showing me what matters.

2008 also saw my family reunite after burying the past once and for all, beginning with my brother Rick's 50th birthday back in February. Silly old differences were cast aside and all of us stood shoulder to shoulder once again, proving that blood is thicker than bullshit. There are forces at work constantly looking to wedge between us and split us apart for good, and they'll never succeed. We are Cooks, and we share a love that will conquer all that challenges us. Our dear mother taught us that this love will overcome. Though there are still a few things that lurk in the darkness that threaten our unity, I know now that there is nothing that will keep us apart for good. We all need to be conscious of this fact, however.

The year saw a few changes come for Alexandra, minor or more so, depending on perspective I think. One of the biggest things being that we've all ceased going to taekwondo classes. The school we were going to shut down after Janice had taken to running it for a bit under her master, and once he relocated to another school, we stopped going, because he wouldn't be teaching the classes Lexy and Janice would be going to. This isn't to say they're going to stop going for good. It is safe to say that I'm done with it though. It breaks Janice up a bit that she can't go to the classes anymore, and I know it bothers Alexandra. It certainly has taken a lot of activity out of her life. A lot of socializing comes with going to those classes, and so that's gone with them. In its place, we've joined the YMCA, which does fill the void somewhat, but will do much better in that regard once Alexandra turns 13 in April, and she can participate in far more activities.

It's looking like we'll be moving sometime this year, although there's certainly no telling for sure. It's something we want to do sooner than later, though. We had the best vacation of our lives this past summer in going to Welland, being with family to share in the fun times. Coldplay released an album called "Viva La Vida" which serves now as a soundtrack to that time in our lives. Whenever we hear a song called "Lovers In Japan", for me at least it brings me right back to when we were cruising Niagara Falls, seeing the sights. Coming back home prompted us to make the decision to move once and for all, though, a decision that's been unwavering for us.

Janice has seen her share of trying times. The biggest being the onset of the discovery of nodules on her vocal cords that continuously robbed her of her voice. After my persistent pestering her to see a specialist about it, she finally did and had them removed, then finding out that the nodules were pre-cancerous. She's fine, however, and caught it at a point that assured her safety and health. They keep an eye on her now for safety precautions, but she's okay. On the bright side of things, she's the manager of a post office outlet, and is back to doing what I think she was meant to do in life, being a boss. Because she's fair and just in her handling of staff, she's doing what she should be doing. The outlet is thriving, of course, under her superior leadership. I knew this is how it would go.

And now Christmas has once again come and gone, and it's been a good one. Quiet, but good. Family was together, we had good food and good times, and the prognosis for the future is looking good in its aftermath. We have some work to do with PreLam again which will help us catch up on our bills, and the financial picture isn't looking all too badly. The prospect of moving into a house that's actually big enough for us to live in is quite intriguing.

With the new year sneaking up on us, with it bringing a video recording/DJ job for our friend Kelly's wedding, we hope for a prosperous time in the face of a looming eroding economy in our nation, and indeed the world. But like we always do, we'll just have to roll with the punches, and expect the odd bad apple in the bunches of good ones that we come across. Such is life.

Here's hoping there aren't too many unpleasant surprises ahead of us, and lots of good ones. Sometimes you can't see all the bumps in the road ahead of you, but hopefully you can learn to remember where they were should you venture on that road again. Life indeed is an untravelled road we constantly discover.

God bless you all.

...no one can hear you scream

2008-11-30T22:14:00.005-04:00

And another weekend comes to a close. It was a good one. Busy.

We took in Lexy's pal Courtney for the last three days, so she could amplify the fun factor. To start it off, Friday was our tenth anniversary (a thank you to those out there that sent us congrats), and while I was working at Vail's, I had a dozen roses, with the usual one yellow added in the middle to signify Lexy, arranged in a vase and delivered to Janice at work. It got the usual result, with Janice being happy with a grin from ear to ear as she proudly displayed the flowers by the counter at the post office outlet that she manages. I picked her up at her work after I was done, and we went home to meet Alexandra and Courtney waiting for us, and shortly afterwards we got into the car and headed to Vito's for our celebratory supper. But, the parking lot was packed, as were the streets around the place. We opted instead, for that moment, to go for a little drive around Moncton and Riverview and just chat a bit while listening to Coldplay's Viva la Vida album on the car stereo. After about 45 minutes of the joyride, we swung by Vito's again, and found a parking spot and took to the restaurant, where we waited a mere five to ten minutes for a table.

Vito's has changed a bit over the years, undergoing numerous renovations, and we hadn't been in since it changed the last time. I told Janice and the kids my funny story about Vito's from when I was a kid under 10; a friend and myself, I can't even remember the guy's name, hung around the neighbourhood and just had fun getting around, and Vito's back then was just a house across from where the newer restaurant now stands. Him and me would go up to the window of the place, where there was a small dining room where the food was served up, and we'd gaze at the food whoever was eating and lick our chops looking like poor starving kids, and the guy or whoever would motion for us to go in and give us a piece of his pizza. Eventually the owners caught onto that though and shooed us away. But it was good while it lasted.

Eventually the big Vito's restaurant opened up to replace that little one, where a parking lot now stands. Through the years, my family held a lot of gatherings there. I remember one of the first, when my dad died when I was 12. The dining room was very large and had an assortment of large tables, with authentic Italian paintings adorning the walls of bullfighters and ancient Italian lore. I have a vivid memory of a gentleman named George going out with my sister Cindy for a short time up to that point, and he was with the family through a pretty rough time. The food was good, the people were even better, and the times we had there were nothing short of highly memorable. As the years passed, we would go back to experience that ambiance again and again. It's been awhile since the Cook clan assembled there, but maybe after reading this, it'll spark interest to head back. It's been too long.

But on Friday night it was nice like it always was. Janice and me had a 16 inch pizza between us, with ground beef, bacon, pepperoni, mushrooms, onions and pineapple. The waitress was fantastic, and reminded us a lot of our friend Tina, who used to run the taekwondo club with her husband that we went to. Alexandra had her own combo of pizza with tortellini (she's a huge fan of the food network and is into these foods I'd never tried before, some I'd never even heard of), and Courtney had a pizza with Caesar Salad. Janice, Courtney and me had pop and Alexandra had.... tea. No joke. She's a real tea-totaller. Has it with her grandmother all the time. After our meal, we headed back home, with Janice and me taking two last pieces of our pizza with us. It was a good night. We settled in home and went to bed later on, and prepared for the next day.

It's a bit of a pleasure waking up on the weekends these days and having the MacBook beside the bed, and just surfing while I lay around not even getting up. So since Janice had to bring Lexy to her swimming lesson at 10, with Courtney in tow, I just stretched out, propped myself up and took to facebook looking for things to do and people to talk to. Eventually all the ladies came home, and it would soon be time to prepare supper. We'd planned on going to Saturday mass, but Janice was called into work to do important stuff, so after a pavement pedalling trip to Rinzlers for some stuff, I began to put meatballs together. There's a recipe for them that is nothing short of amazing. A few days ago we had it, and accidentally we had McCain Smilies with them, and it turned out that the meatball sauce was perfect for dipping for the potato Smilies. We made it a point to have it again on this Saturday, figuring Courtney would also enjoy it. And she did. Right away after that, we headed to Tim Horton's for a hot chocolate for the kids, and off to the parade we went.

It wasn't a bad night weatherwise for the parade at all. The temperatures were chilly, but not freezing, and there was no threat of any kind of precipitation. We'd looked forward to seeing Rick in his Post Office gear collecting Santa letters from all the kids, including the two that we harboured, but at the last minute that job was given to food bank collectors, which really disappointed Rick. He loves seeing the kids and the joy on their faces as they entrust him to send off the letters to the big jolly one. Anyway, the parade got underway, we were right in front of City Hall. The kids got to sit by the curb for a front row view, and we endured some icy toes toward the end and watched some more-inventive-than-usual floats go by, and then got back to the car to make it home. Not for long though. We then bolted to Wal Mart so I could get swim trunks, which turned out to be a tight black pair a bit like bike shorts which don't absorb much water at all, and then we were off to May and Rick's place. Looking for the house isn't hard on the street that they're on. Like Rick himself joked, they have to divert aircraft away from the place because of the amount of lights they have on that house. Rick went all out and did an exceptional job.

And speaking of exceptional, him and May did nothing less than give us all the royal treatment the whole time we were there. The kids spent the bulk of the time in the basement of the place playing games and stuff, while we stayed upstairs and talked and watched horseraces on TV, where we were to see Somebeachsomewhere's last race of his career. Throughout the night they served up chicken wings, garlic fingers, pop and wine to us while we talked and joked and reminisced about the good 'ol days, clearly knowing those days were still with us now. When the big race finally came on, SBSW won it pretty easily, and bowed out most likely as the Horse of the Year as will be determined in the coming weeks by the Standardbred Association, I believe. It was a fitting finish to arguably the best racehorse ever to race a track, and he's Maritime owned. A great way to go out. Or was it.....?

As it turned out, there was a last minute decision to let the superhorsey race a couple of more times. The owners had a last minute change of heart and now they're gearing up to race Beach in at least one more big prize pot contest. It's nice knowing we'll get to watch the thrilling pacer try to notch up another couple of victories in the fine style that he's accustomed to showing everyone.

Anyway, we headed home after a fine night with May and Rick and put the kids to bed, as we got ready for the next big day, in which we'd all head out to the Y for swimming. Or swimming learning, in my case. I was looking forward to it.

Alexandra's pal Courtney was maybe looking forward to it more than the rest of us. This would be her first visit to the giant pool, and her second visit to the complex as she accompanies her buddy. The kids had to wait first while I did my 1/2 hour lesson, and Janice played kind of dumb to swimming so she could be there with me. She's actually a very proficient swimmer herself. Me, not so much, although last week I spent more time underwater than I ever would have dreamed. It really is quite a rush being underwater, with goggles on, and seeing everything from that point of view. I was always afraid of what kind of effect water in the ears would have, come to find out, none got in whatsoever. Although I did drink my fair share inadvertently.

This lesson turned out to be maybe a bit more frustrating than the first, which I should have anticipated. I gained so much in my first lesson simply by overcoming my fear of water, that I couldn't possibly have matched the progress in the second week. And I didn't, but, I did find out what I was doing wrong. Holy livin' Lord, the instructor this week, female, was ... well, distracting on a visual level, let's put it that way. She certainly had her hands full with me, figuratively speaking of course. Half an hour later, the lesson was done, and the kids joined in for the family swim time.

We all had a good time playing like fishes in the water, swimming from one side of the pool to the other, showing off our own abilities to each other and just relaxing. I was able to get more than halfway past the length of the pool underwater without coming up for air, so my confidence was getting better. One of my biggest issues was developing my buoyancy, though, which is proving to be maybe the toughest thing up to now. I'm getting there. Although my fear of water has subsided, it's a little bit tougher letting my legs relax enough to keep off the pool floor. Janice does help a lot, though, with a lot of tips, and that was an area where I did make some progress. Another challenge was to overcome the deep end, a place I've never been.

Halfway down the pool, I told Janice, "I should try to swim underwater across the deep end to the other side." "Well, you could probably do it! You can hold your breath a long time." I paused to think about it. "Maybe if I stay close to the wall." As I ducked underwater to look at the length I would have to swim, the deep end didn't look all that deep from that perspective. It's ten feet deep, or four feet deeper than I am tall, which to me is a bit freaky. But I wasn't into pondering too too much. "All right," I yelped, "I'm gonna do it! Keep an eye on me okay?" "Of course!" My wifey chortled back. "I'm right here." Down I went.

The wall was in arm's reach as I stroked my way underwater toward the far end. I looked down while I swam the length, and wondered about halfway across why I'd been afraid of this my whole friggin' life. I couldn't sink to the bottom even if I wanted to. That's the strangest thing about the water, is that only when you struggle do you actually sink at all. That's something to bear in mind when you're fearful of the water like I was. Glooooooossshhh ---- I continued my way to the end, reached ledge, and popped my head above the water. "Wow.... now that was a rush." As I hung onto the ledge, I felt my legs dangle freely underneath me. It was the strangest sensation, one of complete weightlessness, and one of fear leaving my body after I'd conquered another branch fear of my hydrophobia.

I continued to swim and float around with Janice and the kids, and I discovered, with a bit of Janice's help, a .... different kind of buoyancy. I'll leave it at that. In the deep end I continued to try to find my ability to float freely, and the kids had a grand old time diving in chasing each other. Janice wandered off around the whole area while I experimented on my own. I swam the half-length of the pool, now I wanted to swim the width across the deep end. Feeling pretty good about it, I took a breath and off I went. But for some reason, about three quarters of the way across, I lost my ability to hold my breath. Then it happened; I began swallowing water. A lot of water. I breathed it in through my nose. I began panicking and started sinking and the wall or the ledge wasn't in arm's length, and I was in the middle of a vacant space. "Is this it?" I thought, after I tried, and failed, to regain my wits and get to the surface. "Is this how it's going to end?" I truly thought I might not make it back up. Inhaling for breath and taking in water instead is a terrifying feeling. Janice saw I was panicking at the other end and hurriedly made her way over. I'm reminded of the tagline from the first "Alien" movie that was "in space, no one can hear you scream." Same goes for underwater.

In those few seconds of contemplation, I decided to stop moving, relax, and look up for the rope barrier. I found it in myself to swim upward and reach for the rope, and then pull myself to the ledge. Janice was with me when I reached the surface. "Are you okay Mike? What happened? "I'm okay," I offered. "I overestimated my breath. I know what I did wrong." I gasped to get my air back. Wow, I'd never been so happy to breathe since I almost died from mould poisoning ten years ago. My heart racing and my body tensing, I told Janice I was all done swimming for the day. "Gee, I wonder why!" I said I'd be okay, but she stayed sitting with me anyway. We sat poolside and watched the kids playing in the deep end in front of us.

About five minutes later, though, I decided I didn't want that to be the last experience I brought home with me that day. It was another fun filled day with more personal milestones, and this was not going to spoil that. I turned to Janice and said, "I'm going to go back in. That's not going to happen again; I know what I did wrong." Indeed, I did. I misjudged how much breath I had, perhaps got too cocky for my own good. "Are you sure? Don't do it if you don't want to do it." "No no..." I insisted, "I pretty much have to. I'm not worried." She smiled back, and we both went right back into the deep end.

I ducked underwater and began to swim to the shallower side of the pool, across the deep end. I emerged, triumphantly in my own mind, at the marker where the shallow end began. I turned back to look at where I was, and realized that I won. Not against the pool, or the water, or even that situation. I won against my fear. I didn't let it bring me back to square one. I allowed it to only be a blip on the radar.

Pretty big blip though.

Janice turned to me when we headed back to the changing room and told me, "you know what? I'm proud of you. You got right back into that water. You didn't let an experience like that stop you, and that's saying a lot!" She's right. I'll take that. To hear my wife say she's proud of me, someone who I aspire to be like as much as I can everyday, really does make me feel good inside.

I certainly felt like I swallowed half the pool, though. So I was in the water for only about another five or ten minutes and then we all pretty well called it a day. We'd been in the water for a solid two hours. And man, did we ever feel it later! It really is true what they say about swimming being good exercise. But I thought that the next time I went for a leak it was going to be like a geyser or something.

It was a real pleasure to see Courtney be so happy when she was with us. Alexandra was too, of course, but the two of them love each other's company so much. They truly are the definition of best friends. Courtney left the house Sunday evening with her mom quite content, I think, and Alexandra was pretty happy with the way the weekend played out. I think we're pretty lucky to be surrounded by kids who are so level headed.

We watched The Amazing Race, kind of bland this season if you're asking me. Then Lex was off to bed and we took in the newest episode of Dexter. Some of the finest TV you'll ever see is in the form of that show. We're anxiously awaiting Sunday to come so we can see where Mr. Morgan is going to wind up and what he's going to do about it.

And you know what, it's now Thursday, December 4, and I'm late getting this in, so I'll cut 'er loose and go watch Survivor on the tube right now. Might be back soon to tell you how the week went.

Thanks for tuning in, and fire up the colortinis and watch the pictures as Survivor flies through the air.

Good night.

A Wonderful Waterful World

2008-11-23T20:18:00.002-04:00

It was an eventful day today, pretty much all the news good. And it's only 8:18pm still.

This morning we got up to go to church... earlier than we've been doing, because for the past two weeks we've been taking active part in St. Bernard's Roman Catholic Church. Janice has signed up for the Eucharistic Ministry, or, she's going to be serving hosts at communion. Alexandra is now an active altar server, just like her old man was when he was her age. This morning was her second mass, and she carried a candle. She's the only girl altar server that I know of right now, and she looks fantastic doing it. As for me, I've signed up as a reader, doing readings from the Bible during mass, something I've been wanting to do for a long time now. The added bonus is that Father Carroll is still the priest there, which reunites me with him, from back in the old days. I served for him when he was just a deacon at St. Augustine's, and was there when he became an ordained priest. He also presided over our re-saying of the vows in the Catholic faith a couple of years ago. He's my favorite mass speaker ever, and I'm pretty excited being a part of his congregation again. I haven't read for mass yet, though. A schedule is coming out this week and I'll know then. Janice, however, will be serving at mass a bit more often, where they need more Eucharistic Ministers.

We came home and lazed around a bit, and I was scheduled for a swimming lesson at the Y at 3:30. Lexy and Janice would come, and we'd all spend time in the pool together as a family after my half hour lesson. Janice and me stripped down to our swimwear and headed out to the pool area, while for the time being Lexy went upstairs in the observation area to watch. She was apparently pretty excited about me getting into swimming, Janice too.

I have to say it's a pretty big step for me just being beside a pool, let alone in one. When I was a kid, I went to Kiwanis Pool, having never swam before, and was pushed in and struggled to get back above water and get air. I haven't made any attempt to swim since. I must've been around 9 or so.

Janice kept me company as we walked toward the large pool, and we met a young gentleman named Jeremy, who was friendly and eager to help me in achieving my goal of ... trying to swim. I was tempted to type "get into the pool", because at the time, that was my next biggest goal. Janice stepped in, and I followed. The water was warm at 88 degrees fahrenheit, and the sensation of being in water was probably the biggest shock for me. It was actually surreal, feeling gravity lose its pull on me and feeling the water tug me in such strange directions. The depth of the pool was just under my shoulders. Janice, with a big smile on her face, congratulated me on taking the plunge, pun intended. It may have been surreal to her too, seeing me in there.

Jeremy proceeded to tell me what he was going to do to introduce me to the beginning stages of swimming. At the Y, you have to wear a swimcap, and goggles if you want to, which all three of us did. My eyes are pretty sensitive, so that was a must. The odd time I would lose my footing and panic a wee bit, with nothing to grab onto to stabilize myself. The first thing he asked me to do was submerse my face underwater, then my whole head, and that was maybe asking a lot. I mean, me, Mr. Hydrophobia since December 26, 1965, voluntarily sticking my head underwater? Might take some work. Then Jeremy had me hang onto the pool rim, and allow my body to float, trying to get me to find some buoyancy. That didn't come easy at first, but I got the hang of it eventually. Later he gave me this board to help me stay afloat, and instructed me to kick in the water while I floated. That wasn't too bad. Better when I figured out that I actually should put my goggles on my eyes instead of having them on my forehead all day. At the end of the lesson, Jeremy left and said he'd see me next week. He hung around the pool area and chatted with friends and fellow employees.

Then Alexandra joined us. In a few minutes from her coming into the pool to be with Janice and me, I decided I had to do something besides just hang onto the side of the pool all day. So I tried to find buoyancy. Then I decided the biggest thing I could do to make progress was to keep my head underwater. With a deep breath and my goggles on, I plugged my nose and did just that. Wow. I mean, WOW. Seeing the underwater firsthand, through my own eyes and hearing the water around me, was a trip. After a few seconds, I came up, and immediately knew I had to do it again. So I did. And again. And again. I continued to do it, until my fear of being immersed vanished. What a milestone that is for me! And it was the key. I had Alexandra teach me the breaststroke, and I did it. I swam underwater for half the length of the pool. It was an intoxicating feeling to conquer this fear I've had since as long as I could remember. I tried all kinds of different types of swimming, and short of going in the deep end, I gained complete confidence in myself in the water. Before we knew it, we were in the pool for an hour and a half! Jeremy came along, and saw this guy in the center of the pool swimming underwater. When he heard it was me, he was flabbergasted. "Are you SURE you never swam before?" "Never. I've walked around in water, but never, ever swam." "We rarely see this! It usually takes at least a month to get someone to that level, and after one day you're there. Good going!"

Did I actually do this?! I did. Alexandra took pictures, albeit not great ones because of the phone's limited resolution, of when I underwent my lesson. I did it. I conquered my fear of water. Unbelieveable. As I sit here and type this, with The Amazing Race challenging me for my complete attention on the TV in front of me, it still seems a bit dream-like.

We had meatballs tonight with rice and veggies. Damn good meatballs too, I tried a new recipe and it kicked some major ass. We're having them again tomorrow.

And with that, I'll leave and watch my shows. TAR, then True Blood, and Dexter, while 24 Redemption records and we'll take that in tomorrow.

If you read this, thanks for checking in on me. I appreciate it.

Now excuse me as I fire up the colortinis and watch the pictures as they fly through the air.

Good night.

Dirty Days

2008-11-05T21:06:00.006-04:00

Janice and Lexy hadn't gone to taekwondo since mid summer. The plan was for us to get back from vacation, and then they would rejoin Master Lessard at his new place of employment, Chung Won on St. George Street. They went to the classes, many of them, with Master Chung Won himself instructing class. Master Lessard didn't teach even one, unfortunately, and it didn't look like he was going to be teaching adult classes anytime in the near future.

My wife would come home from those classes feeling like she'd gotten a decent workout, as did Lexy, but one thing was unmistakeable -- Chung's way of teaching was far removed from what we were taught by our own master. Janice would be constantly corrected on the way she would perform her forms and movements, to the point that her confidence level in TKD would drop to new lows. Here you have a second degree black belt woman being corrected in front of a class of students, mostly below her rank, and seemingly made an example of. Alexandra would get much of the same treatment. Janice would come home every day from training looking a little more lost each time, a little more distant from that fire she'd had in her for the sport for the so many years she'd participated.

She made the effort to try to start up her own branch club of Chung Won, which was fine and dandy with Chung Won and Lessard, except the padded flooring, which was much needed for the training that still was at the place where we trained last, was being bought by Chung Won and taken from where we would train. This effectively killed Janice's hopes of opening up her own taekwondo school, because we could not afford to buy flooring.

Would she continue to go to Chung, would be the next question. "You know how I feel when I come out of one of his classes," she would remark to me in resignation, "I feel inadequate. I feel like I don't belong there. I feel like I've been training for all this time, I have my degrees and now I don't know anything. Everything I know is wrong." Alexandra was on the Chung Won demo team, a team of youngsters who would practice for demonstrations at public events. She completely lost interest in being on it. Master Chung supposedly told Master Lessard that our black belt students, including Janice and Lexy, "would be taken care of." Unfortunately, they were taken care of, but not in the way we expected. The fee greatly increased, there were no classes with Lessard, and Janice was basically stonewalled from starting a school. We have to wonder just how welcome we were to come back in the first place. Taekwondo is, effective from this time, on the shelf. Perhaps for good. Perhaps not. Time will tell.

Not long ago, Janice was doing some cleaning in the house, when she found herself in the closet upstairs alone, putting away our taekwondo gear. She started weeping at the thought of maybe never putting it on again, feeling a sense of loss not unlike losing a pet. I miss doing it myself, to be honest, as does Alexandra. We needed a replacement activity, and quick. They say when you lose a pet, the sooner you get another one, the easier it is to deal with. Enter YMCA.

I'd long considered having the family join the Y, but ultimately decided that it wasn't really possible given the fact that we were already subscribed to taekwondo. I investigated what it would entail to join. In the end, the cost of being members there per month wound up being the same as it was to be in martial arts, except with the Y, we had a number of options of things to do. We get the pools, gym and workout equipment, open gym and numerous programs for Alexandra to get involved in with other kids. There's even a babysitting program there, which we don't have any use for now that Lexy's of age, but it sure would've been nice a few years ago. But, Alexandra's a second degree black belt, something I'd never change for anything.

Coming back to work after vacation was refreshing. I'd gotten a nod from the manager that she was glad I was back in the form of "he was away long enough!" I worked hard at that place. As with any job I do, I put my whole heart into it. If they wanted me to work late, I worked late. Work extra, I'd do that too. I went into the store at 5 in the morning during snowstorms to receive merchandise, then distribute it onto the store shelves, by myself, while the store was closed and the power was out. I'd go around the store with a Bic lighter to see where I was going, to put out stock. This past summer, at one point I worked 19 days straight with only a statutory holiday off while others went on vacation. I'd been asked to work overnight and did it. I came in at 5am on Tuesdays and Fridays every week since I started, and only called in sick for two days when I'd had a stomach virus, in which case I don't think anyone wants me around. When I was told I did something wrong, and it wasn't my fault, I'd keep silent to keep the peace. But, it got to a point as the weeks went on after I'd gotten back from vacation that I was accused of a lot of things that weren't my doing. When I advised them about a decision to take a milk/pop cooler out of the store as a bad one, in favor of a rented cooler from Pepsi to replace it, I was open and adamant about my objection to it. In a rented cooler, we would only have half the space to choose what we wanted to put in it. The reason we got rid of our cooler to begin with was because it seemed to have been malfunctioning, and the milk in it came out sour on a routine basis. I discovered it was because a light switch that went out at the closing time every night also shut off the cooler, thus there was nothing wrong with it, and so we wouldn't shut that particular light switch off. But the manager insisted on the new cooler, saying it would look better. By the time I left the place, milk had a single shelf space in the new Pepsi cooler, Life Brand stock was almost completely shuttled out, we had tons of Gatorade with nowhere to put it, and lots of Pepsi product that was never going to sell took its place. But what the hell do I know.

I just wasn't seeing eye to eye with a few people in that place. The owner being the exception, as he and a former manager were the ones to hire me to begin with. It's my understanding, or opinion rather, that I probably never would have been hired if the manager who I was then dealing with had considered my application last October. The administrator of the store thinks even less of me. My fellow employees, however, were a different story. I got along with everyone there, although the atmosphere made for less than a pleasant one. I was being corrected so often, though, by this second manager, that I felt smaller and smaller as time went on. A turning point came when I muffed up an order from a company for which I had to call back twice to correct. I laughed off my goof, feeling a bit dumb about it, but the manager got downright snippy with me. "Do we have a communication problem here, or what??" I realized then that I could not be humorous with her about anything. It takes a while for me to drop my guard with anyone. From that point on, it was up, and solid, for good.

I'm not going to say I'm the best at that job, either. I did make my share of mistakes. There are things I did I wish I didn't do, times that I wish I'd been more careful or attentive with certain tasks at hand. But I did learn from the mistakes I'd made, at least I'd like to think so. I just got the impression that there was absolutely, positively no room for mistakes, that I had to be perfect from the getgo.

One weekend, it was my turn to work. I worked every third one, and on this particular Saturday, it had a lot of things that had to be done. The manager was in that day with her family to pick up a few things, and she commended me for staying later to get things done. I thanked her for that, and felt good about it. Maybe things aren't as bad as I felt they were, I thought. She asked when I'd be in the next day to register an order for the store, and I told her nine o'clock. She said that was fine and she'd see me then.

That night, we went out to the cottage to see family. We discussed a few issues, some of which I found unsettling, so did one of my brothers, who actually broke out in shingles from the stress of the happenings of the time. I, myself, broke out this massive coldsore that was painful as hell, though it wasn't shingles! Come to find out, that's a symptom of stress as well. My neck tightened up and it got to a point where it was hard to move, especially first thing in the day. I was taking migraine strength Motrin five times a day to cope with it. And this night, I went to bed taking that stress with me and tossed and turned, only winding up asleep around 3:30am. I woke up at 9:05, late for my appointed time at work. When I arrived at 9:15, the manager made it known in no uncertain terms that even at 9, it was far too late to get the work done that needed being done, let alone coming in late. She told me to go out to the store and do menial tasks while she did the order herself, signalling to me that she didn't trust me doing it, after I'd been doing it for seven or eight months. My heart fell to the floor. I worked so hard to get to the point that I was at, only to be hammered down to the level of some grunt worker, or so it felt. I was hurt, stressed and insulted for the last time. I picked up a blank sheet of paper, handwrote my letter of resignation to the owner, stapled it shut and slipped it under the locked door to his office. Unbeknownst to me, he'd gone away on vacation for a few days.

But I did feel that there was no recourse to the fate that I had stapled shut in that letter on the office floor. I'd come to feel inadequate; like I didn't belong. And I had to leave.

The next day, the manager went into his office. Shortly after, she was on the phones for a long time, closing her office door (something done only seldom when she does job interviews, maybe), and she didn't speak a single word to me all day. I wondered where the owner was since I didn't know yet, and wondered what was to become of my sealed note.

My wife informed me that day when I got home from work that she heard my manager was calling other stores around town looking for someone interested in becoming a receiver to replace my position. How could this be, I thought. Obviously, the note I sealed to the owner wasn't sealed anymore, and he wasn't back yet. The manager had opened it and actively sought a replacement to me immediately that morning. An action such as this reaffirmed to me that I made the right decision to leave.

In that note of resignation, I offered four weeks until I was to leave. On October 31st, I would work my last day. When the owner came back from his vacation, he wasn't even informed of the note I left until he'd been back for three days. He didn't know I'd quit, although everyone else did! He told me he wanted to talk to me soon about my decision to leave. I acknowledged this and waited.

And waited.

This talk never came. And over the next three weeks, both he and the manager actively talked in front of me about possible replacements for my position. I'd pass by right between them talking, and they'd be talking about new receivers. I couldn't believe this. After all I'd given to this job, this is the way they were going to see me out. As time passed, my neck grew more and more sore. I was taking crazy amounts of Motrin. I decided to see a doctor about it. The doctor diagnosed me as having potentially chronic neck pain, having felt my neck and shoulders, and gave me a prescription of two meds; one for anti-inflammation, the other to kill the pain. Unfortunately, the painkillers would floor me to the point where she wanted me to be taken off work for a week. I told her I couldn't do that to my employer, even in light of the conditions. She told me at least to be careful, to not do any kind of lifting that involved too much weight, and advised me to come back if the pain didn't subside, as I might need physio. I took one of these pills to see how it would affect me, and sure enough, I was this walking vegetable for the next 24 hours. Clearly I couldn't take these pills while I worked.

I worked through the pain, telling the manager about my physical troubles, which she seemed to shrug off. I figure this because all week I was given duties where I had to lift all kinds of heavy and awkward things, more than usual even. By and large, for the remaining weeks left, I was quiet and reserved and just did my work. I didn't slack off like a lot of people do when they give their notice in their workplace.

As time went on, I got more and more nervous about my post-SDM life. This was a job that I enjoyed, despite two of my harshest critics. When I started at this store, the manager who hired me with the owner was one of the best I'd ever worked with. She had me dropping my guard in record time, and we got along so good, that I looked ahead at a career within the company. A solid future, finally! But, as fate would have it, she was a fill in for the actual manager who was on maternity leave. When the first manager left to make room for the real one, so did my hopes for a future there. Gone would be my RRSPs, my benefits, the best steady pay and the positive outlook. I even pondered a potential situation where if it was going to be that tough to find work, that the house would be sold sooner, and maybe Janice and Lexy could move in with a friend and help out with her situation, where she was recently divorced and running a big house on her own. I would rent a room somewhere, and we would be apart for a bit until my job and financial picture brightened, but I wouldn't bring them down with me. My brother once told me when I got this job, "don't blow it!" I felt like I did just that.

Halloween arrived, the last day of work. I worked steadily and honestly that day, asking the odd girl there if they were going to miss me. I figured some would and some maybe not. Near the end of my shift, the owner came to me with a card in an envelope in his hand, and we stepped into his office for that talk. Not the best timing. And since I was on the way out only minutes after, I decided not to cause all that much of a stir. But there were some things I needed to make known.

He told me that he saw that the manager and me just didn't see eye to eye, that she told him even that day that I was a really nice guy and really good worker all the same. That if she trained me (nay...she wouldn't have HIRED me) from the start, there never would have been a problem. Maybe she's right. Probably not. That's the difference between her and the manager who hired me... that manager actually listened to me, and sided with me if I was right, and politely corrected me if I wasn't. The interesting part of this conversation came when I touched upon my letter of resignation being stapled shut. He said it wasn't stapled when he got it. I told him it was. He didn't seem to be too pleased to hear of this discrepancy, but at the time, didn't make anything of it either. I told him about when I wrote it, about the manager getting testy with me, which led to me resigning in the first place. He said he never knew about that episode either. Hence, he SHOULD have talked to me when he said he was going to. But at the time, he opted to hear only one side of the story.

He shook my hand, anyway, and we exchanged good wishes, and I accepted the card which turned out to have a $50 gift card in it, in thanks for my services. I will miss the guy. My biggest gaffe with him came only when my hours were cut to make way for a new assistant manager, and I never got a truthful reason as to why; I had to figure it out on my own. Ultimately I was lied to, but I let it slide. This is the only job I worked where I was actually punished for working too hard, mainly due to the administrator. I left the office, did one more round, and punched out actually 15 minutes earlier, having done everything I had to, and as Bono once sung in a song called "Dirty Day", "I left by the back door, and I threw away the key."

Then I went home and got dressed up for a job interview two hours later at Vail's Dry Cleaning. And that two hours turned out to be the duration that I was to be unemployed. My neck improved, to 100% since leaving the store, stress levels were eliminated, and I now work Monday to Friday, 8 to 4:30, although with lesser pay and no benefits. The people I work for are fair and very friendly and accommodating. And in fact, the guy I answer to has a remarkably similar demeanor to that first manager who'd hired me at SDM. Three weeks in, and I haven't had a single stressful day. Although there's a crazy amount of stuff to learn!

Janice is doing well at her Post Office managerial position, although she's having a bit of a hard time with a couple of workers (anyone want a job working for her?). Her arthritis is acting up on her lately, but she's fighting it every step of the way. We both have started training programs at the YMCA, and Lexy's enrolled in a bunch of kids' programs there. I got a MacBook, which I'm typing this blog on right now, and I'm going to get ready to DJ a wedding for a friend on New Years Eve with it. Things are looking stable, at least. Who knows what the blurry future holds.

But the past is crystal clear, and the rear view mirror's been torn off, and there's no point now in looking back.

Just a little patience...

2008-11-05T21:01:00.002-04:00

Vacation was refreshing. It was good to get away, to clear the head, and basically reboot the noggin. And though that was done, my brain got cluttered once again immediately upon arrival with thoughts of what to do next. Should we stay or should we go.

I won't drag this out, because I want to catch up on things here, but I don't want to skip over anything either. Days passed, many many days, and that pile of wood just didn't move. In fact, Mr. H actually sat leisurely on a patio chair in our driveway playing with his dog while that wood sat there, and he would take the pallet wood to his saw and cut it up to burn in the wintertime. This is a task that would take many weeks. In the meantime, something caught our eyes in the daytime that we couldn't quite see at night. Two deep trenches in our backyard from where Mr. H drove his motor home onto our lawn, while the grass was wet, stared back at us. About eight feet long each. As each day came and went, I hated living here. And I tried with all of my soul not to hate my neighbours.

A whole week passed by, and the wood just wasn't moving. Every day I came home and drove my car into the driveway as far as I could, I had this mess impeding my path, as we have a drive-through driveway, where you can drive straight out the other end. Until this, of course. Janice was furious. She couldn't bring it upon herself to go to her parents' house. Her mother would come out and joke about it. "You must have been surprised to see that in the driveway when you came home." "That's not quite how I'd put it," she'd retort, and not say anything again for weeks.

Two weeks passed by. On a Thursday I was so stressed out over this, with each and every day passing, that I actually prayed for patience and guidance. I asked God to give me patience, to forgive our neighbours, because they must not realize what it is they are doing. And I begged for a way to try to resolve this situation that was corrupting an already unstable relationship with Janice's parents. Friday, I told Janice, "what we should do," with some trepidation, I'll admit, "is go and neatly help your dad move that wood into his garage or wherever it is that it has to go. Let's try to resolve this peacefully. As peacefully as possible." She was hesitant to the idea at best. She said she'd think it over but didn't believe that would be fair, to us.

On the third day... two of Janice's brothers and their kids came to her parents' house, and began to move the wood out of our driveway. By the end of that afternoon, the driveway was cleared. One of the brothers told Janice "there's no way that should have happened." Janice agreed, of course. Apparently, the general concensus of her family is that her dad was out of line in doing what he did. No apology at all from him, though, and we won't get one. Although when Janice talked to her mother, she was apparently grief stricken when she saw that wood dumped in our driveway, sensing what might be the repercussions.

But my forgiveness is not exactly boundless. I mowed Janice's parents' lawn for the last few years, and after this, decided not to bother anymore. I take pride in the work that I do, even if it's only mowing a lawn. Their lawn is a bit tricky, and particularly difficult to do with a lot of flower beds and hills, and a back lawn full of rocks and slopes. But I was done.

-knock knock-

Someone was at the patio door. It was Mr. H. Janice opened it, and he stepped in. "Is he going to mow our lawn?" It had gotten kind of long. "Mike?" Janice called to me in the livingroom.

"You going to mow the lawn?" Mr. H asked me as I stood there in front of him while Janice nervously did the dishes in the kitchen. "No." I was short and maybe impatient sounding. "How come?" He couldn't seem to figure out why I was resistant to continuing to do his lawn. "It's too much." That's all I said, and I walked away as he stood there. He eventually turned around and walked out.

I had more colorful words in my back pocket waiting to see the light of day, but I kept those to myself. In the interests of retaining whatever peace our families might have left, and because we can't just pack up and move tomorrow, I opted to play the silence card. I figured the Good Lord answered my prayers, the least I could do is somewhat follow his rulebook.

But there is much work to do. Our livingroom needs painting, desperately, but only half the ceiling is ready for it. Our steps, both to the upstairs and the basement, need replacing. Electrical needs an overhaul. We need a couple of new windows. And our doors draftier than an alehouse. And that's only downstairs. Our bedrooms need an overhaul. We knew we at least needed the winter to try to get this place up to the point where it's somewhat attractive for sale.

My job was going swell, though. Everyone was getting along, the manager gave me a vote of confidence in saying that it was tough while I was on vacation, and we were joking and the atmosphere was looser than it had been in a while. Even a co worker I hadn't gotten along with since the beginning had changed after she came back from vacation. Things were about as good as they could get, I thought.

But as they say, all good things must come to and end....