Giggyup Gung Yun-Fat Chow

So today was the lunar new year. Gung hay fat choy! We wanted to order in Chinese food to celebrate but for whatever reason getting delivery would have taken forever, so we went out for sushi.

Norton isn't the most adventurous eater so he had miso soup and chicken teriyaki. Me being a food philistine I have no idea what's what so Margaret ordered for me - and it was delicious, except for the novelty roll of spam sushi she ordered for fun.  I shit you not - SPAM (that most delicious of nearly wicked pressed ham like food product!). When the server came by to ask how things were Norton asked quite seriously if we could have the sushi without the spam.

She must get this a bit because she immediately replied, "That roll has avocado, crab, spicy tuna, rice, cucumber and just a thin slice of spam wrapped in seaweed." Then from behind the glass there the chefs were working, one looked up and said, "I can make him a roll with avocado, crab, spicy tuna, rice, cucumber and put the spam on the side."

The server waited a moment before turning her back and moving on to the next table.  Norton ate in silence for the rest of the dinner.  On the way home Norton perked up, and proclaimed that in honour of the year of the horse, we would watch a classic movie with Yun-Fat Chow. He's no Bruce Campbell, but he's done some cool stuff, and some of those John Woo films kicked ass.

Turns out Norton isn't really up on what actually constitutes "classic" as Margaret and I were subjected to Dragonball Evolution. It was an hour and a half we won't get back.

Super Shipping, Man. Guaranteed

Norton has decided to embrace online shopping in a way that is equal parts inspiring and frightening. It's not like he's hoarding, but I have to say the bookshelf in his room is chock full of bric-a-brac, most of which are anime figures (apparently). I'm not sure where he's getting the money, as I'm pretty sure he's run out of Christmas cash, and I don't think he's qualified for a credit card (okay, who am I kidding - everyone qualifies!). Hopefully he's not digging a hole he can't get out of.

I was in the kitchen feeding Clarence (plural) when I heard a girly squeal from down the hall. Margaret wasn't over - so using my powers of deduction I ascertained that it was Norton. Not wanting to actually go and see I just yelled.  "What's going on in there Norton?"

He heard me, but I had no idea what he was saying.

"What was that?"

Again more mumbling.

"What's going on?"

... silence.

Now I make fun of Norton occasionally.  Okay, I make fun of him all the time.  It's the only sport I can still do, what with my sore feet, bad back and general lack of coordination. I score a lot of points, but like the Washington Generals he does get on the board. The one thing that drives me crazy is when he refuses to answer me when I'm "talking" to him. Or as is more accurate when I'm yelling from the kitchen, basement, garage, or bathroom (when you're out of paper you don't just sit there ... okay you sit there, but you holler and sit there).

So I stomped my way to Norton's room.  He was back lit from his computer monitor.  He turned and grinned at me (one for the Generals) "Oh hey John.  Look at this," he pointed at the monitor. "Check this out, I'm bidding on a 1977 Chewbacca, but look here.  See this is the best part, 'guaranteed used toy' they must think I'm pretty stupid.  Of course it's used.  They need to convince me it isn't new?"

I was about to say something when I realized the score was even.  I just nodded and walked away.

You Can't Redeem the Redeemed in Life's Lottery

Not sure what happened today during church. I do know the sermon went in one ear and out the other - but that's not exactly anything new or special.

Coffee was good today - which is always a plus. The last couple of times I'm not quite sure what the ladies were brewing in back - a weird concoction that tasted like two parts Postum and one part Sanka.

Shit, where was I?

Church ... coffee ... forgettable sermon. Right, lottery tickets! I was sitting in church and I started rummaging through my wallet where I found an old lottery ticket. I know it was mine because I had scribbled my signature on the front. Last thing I want to do is win big, die from the shock and leave Norton to claim my prize. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't make a good movie ... and I can't (and won't) imagine Norton riding a motorcycle naked.

Looking at my ticket I was filled with hope. I zoned out to that special place where lottery dreams dwell. It is a happy place. Such a happy place. I looked at the ticket and the array of numbers. Was it a winner?

Did it really matter? Sure it mattered, but only if it was a winner.

As it was it represented hopes and dreams and wonder of what could be.

I smiled and put the ticket back in my wallet and tried to pick up the thread of the sermon. Margaret must have seen the ticket and whispered, "We should check that, you never know."

"No we don't, and I kind of like it that way."

Age of Aquarius in a Fish Bowl

I stopped in for a coffee between jobs today. Not my normal haunt, it was (wait for it) a Sta...(I can't bring myself to say it) a place that makes coffee, and despite my snobbery with respect to the magic bean they make an okay cup of coffee. Although I think they've lost their way just a little. Of the ten people in the queue waiting for a barista I was one of two who actually wanted a coffee - and the other took cream and sugar (so it doesn't count) the rest were an odd concoction of blended and assembled beverages that would MacGyver jealous.

With coffee in hand I figured I'd sit for a few minutes and decompress while I recharged. I was surrounded by what I think we were hipsters. A few were plugged into the wall charging their toys, a couple had laptops and one brave soul with a soul patch was reading a book.

There was a young girl with her back to me talking rather loudly on her cell phone while her free hand conducted her conversation. I giggled a little when I imagined her performing Victor Borge's Phonetic Pronunciation (phonetic, get it? It works because she was on the phone - okay I dragged that past the point of return, but I thought it was funny). I really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but bits and pieces of her one sided conversation caught my attention. "You see, it says here that you'll be not only be lucky in love, but you will also find yourself financially secure ... so you have nothing to worry about. What's that? No, really this is good news! See I told you things would turn around this year, aren't you happy?" It went on for a couple of minutes. I was entranced, this was more fun that hearing Norton read out loud from the Farmer's Almanac when he's in the washroom (don't ask).

I'm not really poo pooing the whole astrology thing. Okay, I am a little - but really it was more her earnest belief that her friend on the other end of the line was set for the year.
Who knows, if it makes her happy, then I'm happy - although I'm pretty sure if things tank for her friend she'll feel a little silly ... or not.

Hard to tell these days.

I suppose I'm one to talk, I go to church and pray to an all seeing invisible God who apparently really likes certain people from select denominations. I'm kind of hoping I'm going to the right church where we've got it all figured out and there aren't any weird surprises in the after life.

Oh ...

Now that was a digression. I thought I was making sport of asstrology.
To make a short story a little shorter I finished my coffee, and as I walked past the still gesticulating young lady I hummed rather loudly my favourite 5th Dimension song ... she never batted an eye.

A Chicken Hat and Animal Nutcrackers

There are days I should be ashamed of myself.

Today is such a day.

The fact that I am actually writing about this at all is something I'll have to deal with at a later date I'm sure. Or not, I'm quite confident no one I know actually reads my blog. Except maybe Vernon because he's trying to figure out what I actually do in my spare time - which according to him I have too much of.

To be clear, I am not an adventurous man, nor am I given to flights of fancy or wildly inappropriate conduct. There are always exceptions, and after a few beers and a couple shots of tequila, strange things can and may occur (consult your doctor if the condition worsens or lasts longer than 24 hours).

Margaret was over and she was sitting in the front room watching TV.  I'm not sure what was on, American X Glee Factor or something.  Doesn't really matter. Her visit happened to coincide with laundry day so I was wandering about the house in my underpants. I had also decided a couple of mid week drinks after a hard day in the shop was a good idea (see above). She was lounging on the couch and I walked up behind her and asked her if she'd even worn a little chicken hat.

She craned her neck and gave me a look.

"A chicken hat." I repeated.

"No. I can't say I've worn a chicken hat John."

Without thinking I dropped my gear and contorted myself in a way I can only assume would make a yoga instructor proud and laid my junk on top of Margaret's head. "Ta da! A chicken hat."  There was a brief moment of indescribable triumph.

Her response was quick and merciless.

Next thing I remember I was rolling on the floor, holding my wounded pride, gonch around my ankles, legs in the air when Norton strolled in holding the laundry basket.

All in all not a proud day for me.  Wednesday should have been hump day, but not for me ... not for a couple days at least.

Note to self, drinking on the weekend okay.  Mid week: Not so much.

He Ain't Heavy He's a Nutter

There's something to be said for good intentions. Intentions whether they be bad or good are simply things that are out there in the unwashed ether that could one day given the right circumstances become reality.

Sort of like blogging.

I never gave a lot of credence to this whole blogging thing. I figured, the first rule of this interweb is have something to say and then take your time saying it, and say it in as many ways as possible. Now it was easy at first, then it got harder (that's what she said) and then it just sort of petered out (um).

Now to be fair I don't have a tweeder account, or take pictures of my food - I have some pride after all! But the whole blog thing went by the wayside.

Why?

Life.

Life got in the way. That and back taxes and just about losing everything - but that's a longer and more boring story. I'll try not to get ahead of myself. I have a couple years of dead space to gradually fill in, and who knows I may actually catch you up.

Or not.

I may just refer to this period of inactivity as my lost weekend (insert Yoko Ono cackle here). Yes I know this isn’t the first weekend I’ve misplaced … (it never gets old).

However before I go I will tell you about Christmas trees. Now for those of you playing the home version of this game, you'll know (or not) that Epiphany has come and gone, and the wise men have dropped their goodies and hightailed it for home. This is the trigger to take down the decorations and throw the tree(s) into the vacant lot across the street.

The last couple of years Norton has set up a small tree lot in the parking lot of Jimmy's garage. Norton fancies himself a modern Paul Bunyan and Clarence 2 has gained enough weight to count as a feline version of Blue. So every year starting December first, Norton gets a shipment of "trees" delivered to Jimmy's shop, and he sets himself up as the neighbourhood expert on all things Christmas.

To me it's awesome because it gets him and one of the cats out of the house for most of the month. I have also discovered there are literally hundreds of versions of "O Christmas Tree" (Norton pronounces it "Oh Tanning Salon") most of them really irritating, and some excruciating (I'm looking at you Glee, oh lord do not get me started on Glee ... lost a bet and Margaret has made me watch it ever since).

For most of the month every night at dinner I could expect to relive that scene from Uncle Buck, where Culkin grills Candy, except instead of a barrage of questions, it was Norton asking just one over and over "When are you getting a tree." I'd always answer "Soon."

Norton didn't usually get too much inventory, but inevitably he'd have some left over and by the 24th he'd be freaking out about what to do with the trees. At this point I'd usually swarm in a take them off his hands for $10 bucks and bottle of beer and then set them up all over the front yard and put one in the living room.

For whatever reason this past Christmas Norton did pretty well. He stumbled on the idea of a joint promotion with Jimmy where with every service customers would get a "free" tree. I assumed that over the holiday's Jimmy jacked up the shop rate to cover the cost of the tree. Word got around town and Norton was clearing out inventory faster than ... faster than something really clever. I was looking for a Duck Dynasty quip but nothing came to mind. Oh well. I'll get the next one.

I kind of lost track of time and by the 15th realized that Norton hadn't been bombarding me with the usual litany of tree requests, and my front yard and living room were looking decidedly bare. Now I am used to last minute decorating. In fact it's part of my Christmas routine, but this year I was nervous and Norton wasn't looking like a kid who'd inhaled his first cigarette as Christmas got closer and closer.

The clincher (I mean this literally and figuratively) was when Norton came home with Clarence (who looked uncomfortable in his reindeer sweater) and proclaimed "I sold out of trees!"

Oh Crap (but I was safe, after all I did clinch!).

Margaret grinned an evil grin and I knew what was coming. "IKEA sells Christmas trees! This'll be great. We can go early, and have breakfast, get a tree ... and there were a few things I've been looking for and we can check out the "as is" section."