Le Canyon de Barron!

I’ve just returned from a fun filled camping weekend in Algonquin Park. We did a two day canoe trip which culminated with a slow cruise down the Barron Canyon. I don’t know if you’ve ever been up there before, but it’s pretty mind numbing.

Anyway, it was my first real canoe trip and I absolutely loved it. I would’ve been thrilled to stay out there for another couple of days actually. Great fun, great company, and by the end we had our portaging technique down to an exact science. Also, we were able to put a canoe onto my pick up truck with relative ease, which is a feat I did not think possible without much sweat and tears.

Tres Fun Là

T

PS – except for on Saturday night, when I had a bunch of dreams that bears were invading our campsite. The worst one involved this humungous stuffed (as in by a taxidermist) black bear with bright red eyes. It scared the living daylights out of me. I don’t much care for that sort of dream.

Who knew talking to kids could be so fun?

But they actually fall for shit. Like when you say to them “can I look in your ears? I saw another kid your age today with bunnies in her left ear”, they get unbelievably excited. It’s like they are overcome with joy at the possibility of having rodents and other small animals living in their ear canal…..

Ironically, it also makes me wild with excitement to try and think of new things to say, and new animals to discover. I’ve half convinced myself that I actually saw a chipmunk in one little cutie’s ear…. later that day, when I ran into her and her mother in the cafeteria, she spotted me and shouted “I know you.” I said, “I know you. You're the girl with two bunnies in one ear.” She didn't even skip a beat before replying “and a chipmunk in the other.” My heart exploded, I went totally vasovagal, and had to suppress the urge to pick that little muffin up and hug her as hard as I could.

t

Sunset Rubdown....

If I ever have a child, and that child comes home one day and says to me “mom, I want to play the drums”, I will briefly hesitate and then say to that child, “okay, let’s make it so”. Then, I will go to a big box store and buy all of the necessary equipment to sound proof a room in my basement. I will buy the child a used drum kit. I will pay for lessons for said child.

Why go to all this trouble for an ungrateful tween you ask? Well, the fact of the matter is, there is just nothing cooler than going to a show and watching the drummer rock his brains out hardcore. It is better if the drummer is a girl, but I’ve seem some pretty amazing guys too. You just have to figure that at some point, these kids' parents were somewhat on board with support and encouragement.

Tonight was one such event. I went to see the Sunset Rubdown. It is a Wolf Parade side project of Spencer Krug’s. Despite feeling tired and incredibly sweaty, I really enjoyed the show. They put out some good vibes and, for my added enjoyment, all of the actors were in place for a wonderful social analysis: The narcissistic (but undeniably talented) lead singer and keyboardist, the xylophone playing back up singer, with the most amazing perm and cherry cheekbones in the world (she loves the lead singer, and flashes her giant, beautiful dimple at him constantly, he loves only himself), the drummer who rocked himself into a frenzy, and the quiet guitarist. And that was only on stage. Imagine what the crowd had to offer!

The opening band was also pretty decent, though in fairness I only caught 2 songs. Here is what I was thinking whilst they played. “man, these guys are not bad – for a bunch of 15 year old kids”. Then it occurred to me (not for the first time, but perhaps more concretely than in the past), "this is the next generation. I am past my rock out prime". It is hard to lust after the band members when you feel like you could be their teenaged mom, or much older sister. Something about it just don't seem right.

The way I see it, I am left with three options:

1. discontinue attendance at all rock shows where the majority of band members are under25
2. continue to attend, but more in the role of a curious chaperone (i.e., I wonder what the kids are listening to these days....)
3. only attend folk concerts, or shows by Rush, Tom Cochrane, or ZZ Top.

I haven’t yet decided which avenue to pursue.

I want to post something about my experience with peds, but honestly, it’s been so rich that I don’t even know where to start. Currently, I am doing a 2 week stint in hematology/oncology – basically, childhood cancers and bleeding disorders. It is so multilayered. On the one hand, the kids are amazingly smart and stoic. On the other hand, it can be pretty depressing to see how sick some of the muffins are. It seems like some of them just can't catch a break. Ironically, they are usually the bravest ones.

I will try to say more tomorrow. Currently, my sheets are calling.

Mocha bear, here is some specific advice for you: go to sleep. Also, do not bring your computer to bed. It is a bad habit and will rot your mind. Bed is for sleeping, cuddling, and shagging. Actually, that is good advice for all of you.

xot

Also,

You should not allow your fellow medical trainees to make repeated attempts at threading a piece of licorice into your nose and out of your mouth just because someone offers you 50 bucks for a successful outcome. Instead, you should do it for the sake of advancing scientific research, and so that you will know how your patients feel when you are doing this to them, and because it is a pretty neat party trick.

T

Some more advice from Tabby:

When you consume beer, wine, and a double digit number of shooters, you will very likely get drunk. Extremely drunk. This may be particularly true if you are a relatively small woman who is somewhat rusty on the binge drinking front.

If the above happens to you, I do not recommend phoning up local celebrities at 1am, waking them up, and keeping them on the phone for 30 minutes trying to get them to come out and play with you and your friends.

If you do happen to phone them up in the middle of the night, chat their ear off, and make a total ass of yourself, it is good form to call back and apologize the next day. It is also polite to assure them that you will never bother them again. This sort of thing might mean the difference between having a restraining order issued against you and/or just feeling like a bit of a titwad for a few days.

I hope you will take this advice to heart, and save yourself some potential future embarrassment.

xot

Summer Fun

There is probably nothing more heart warming and fun than chatting, drinking beer, and eating sushi, on a patio, with your best friend, in the summer. I love you Pesto.

T

Hello Beloved,

I realize there has been a paucity of posting lately. It’s a little ironic because I’m way less busy than I have been, though I have just worked a string of unfortunately scheduled emergency room shifts at my local pediatric hospital. My sleep wake schedule is totally backwards, and I have no idea what day it is.

I plan to post a synopsis of my observations about pediatric emergency after working my last two shifts later this week. You will have to wait, unfortunately, but I will try to make it worth your while.

I want to clarify the mojo entry. Some of you have been asking. I guess I just feel a little more socially connected lately, which is nice because I was kind of in isolation mode there for a while. Also, it is fun to feel like you have options and, as my friend Mocha Bear put it, are single by choice, rather than by some cruel twist of fate - or karmatic insufficiency (as I like to call it).

So, Pesto, yes we are on for tomorrow. To the rest of you, I hope the pace and quality of life are acceptable. I’d like to welcome new readers into the mix, and send an affectionate shout out to all my old friends.

Better material soon.

T

Back in the Saddle

Hello Everyone,

Based on a series of completely unrelated events over the past several days, I am prepared to conservatively declare that, after a long absence, my mojo is back! It's kind of a nice feeling.

T

Tabby Facts :

If you live in a neighbourhood with mostly rich and/or retired people, you will have beautiful gardens to look at when you go out for a run.

T

Ceynotes

The Be Good Tanyas were not true to their name unfortunately. But all was not lost. Son Volt was pretty good, and after the show my friend Locon and I ran into my massage therapist, a great guy. I had agreed to drive Locon back to work, so the massage therapist came along for the ride. Then we went out for a drink. It was quite fun, and felt like vacation- even though it is only semi-vacation.

I never cease to be amazed by the varied and outrageous behaviours of the human animal. In any given day, I can swing from feeling completely inspired to overwhelmingly jaded and cynical. We’ll leave it at that.

Tabby T

Most People Are Nice, But Some Are Not

On the day God invented vanilla flavoured soy milk, I imagine he said something like: “Here you go humans. Here is a delicious, rich, wonderful treat for your tastebuds.” He wasn’t kidding was he?

Today’s been another good one. I got up this morning and went to yoga, which was a rewarding experience as usual. This afternoon my dad stopped over. He is the cutest and best dad in the world. Tonight I met a guy at Bridgehead who I thought was somewhat interesting. As our convo evolved, I came to realize that he was not.

I wish there was some kind of escape hatch for conversations gone bad. At one point he asked me if he could “bounce something off” of me. I said okay and he proceeded to ask me the most ridiculous questions about how to pitch this idea he has for a show about languages. He was all “what angle should I take? Should I pitch it in terms of the people who will be benefiting, or the actors involved.” I said that I didn’t really know what he meant, but that he should probably consider pitching his idea in terms of its potential as a new and innovative method of language training. He looked at me as if I had just come up with a workable plan for peace in the Middle East and said “pitch it as a new idea? That is amazing.” I thought he was joking and started to laugh, but then I realized he was dead serious. Tanks God, he didn’t stay very long.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I tend to assume that most people, despite their often morally crippling baggage, are fundamentally good at heart. Throughout my life, in all of my travels, this belief in the goodness of people has rarely failed me. There are a few exceptions - people I’ve encountered who I would consider predators, either because I have witnessed frightening behaviour, or because my spidy sense rages and I feel extremely uneasy when I am around them.

I met one such character while I was traveling in Malaysia in 2001. He was a super wealthy, bright, well-educated guy, who initially seemed pretty cool. I was on a very small island with him and his friend, and a girl I had met traveling. The four of us hit it off, but then one night a bizarre turn of events (involving naked Swedish girls) sent things all to pot. I won’t get into the details, but things went totally haywire, particularly after my friend left the island to meet up with someone she had a preexisting date with in China. It was just me and the boys – and the Swedes of course.

During our time together, I came to distrust this man and he kind of started giving me the creeps (his friend was nice, but preoccupied with the Swedes). He had it in his head that we should travel to Dubai together and could not understand my refusal of his offer of five star vacationing (on his dime). I found him very manipulative. He also had a nasty temper lurking not far below his charming, cultured exterior.

Anyway, he just could not wrap his head around the fact that I wasn’t interested in spending his money, or traveling with him. In fact, dealing with him had become so exhausting that I decided to come home from my trip 2 weeks early. He wasn’t pleased.

There were some brief emails exchanged early on, but then I heard from my friend (the one who had left the island early) that she had gone to visit this man in Sydney. Apparently, his behaviour toward her had been totally nasty and frightening. This was all the evidence I needed to cease any further correspondence. I didn’t reply to any of his emails for a couple of years, and finally they stopped coming.

Yesterday he emailed to say that he is moving to New York. He wonders if I could find it in my heart to be friends with him. I believe he is in publishing now. It caught me a little off guard, as I had never expected to hear from him again. He seemed genuine. Is it possible he’s changed? It strikes me as unlikely. Don’t people deserve the benefit of the doubt?

Well, after mulling it over all day, I’ve decided not to reply to his email, not even to decline the offer of friendship; the main reason being that I don’t think he is a good person and don’t want to give him even the smallest amount of fodder. The moral of this story is that when someone makes you feel uneasy there is usually a good reason. I trust my instincts, and you should too. Hopefully this will be the end of it.

I have a couple of other stories, but they will have to wait as I am very tired and going to bed. Also, you are likely bored.

night night,
tabby

The Bell Orchestre put on a good show last night….

...but tonight Amadou and Mariam absolutely rocked the house. If you’ve never heard them you need to look them up. I have their CD (autographed) if you want to borrow it. They were fantastic. During the show, I had flashbacks to Bluesfest 2 years ago, when I first came into contact with Mr. Airplane Man. Both acts left me feeling high as a kite and totally awestruck.

This weekend was pretty great. Friday I got a haircut and went on a reasonably good date. Yesterday was the kick off to a week of “semi-vacation.” While I have quite a bit of work and business to take care of, I don’t have to go to work until Friday morning. The sucky part is that I work Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday. I took the Saturday evening shift for a girl in my class as an act of good will. It was the last thing I wanted to do, as I am essentially going to miss the best night of Bluesfest, but the girl was in a real pinch on account of her sister’s wedding in the Bahamas. I believe in karma, so I really had no choice but to bail her out on this one.

Anyway, yesterday’s highlight was a moderate shoe emergency which took place on Bank Street. It was very hot yesterday afternoon, but I had made up my mind to walk downtown to meet up with some friends. Until last week, I had the most wonderful pair of pink flip flops. I think I paid five bucks for them at Winners at the start of last summer. They had been up and down a huge mountain in france (about 40 times), they’d been to Mexico (where they logged many more kilometers) and they’d traveled the mean streets of O-town - a lot.

I guess it was to be expected that these wonder sandals would have an endpoint, and that came earlier this week when the thong finally gave way and popped out of the hole in the centre – for good. I did what any grateful owner would do, I thanked them for all of the foot joy they had brought and made arrangements for them to spend the next few decades relaxing in a landfill somewhere.

So needless to say, I needed to break in a new pair of thongs, and I had a crappy yellow pair lying around my house. I put them on and began the long journey to downtown. About 30 minutes from my home, completely without warning, my right flip flop exploded off of my foot and broke into 2 pieces.

You can no doubt appreciate my predicament. There I was, far from home, in the searing heat, with no shoes. I called Pesto and K-cat and asked for a bail out. They pledged to come at once on their bikes. Meanwhile, I continued to walk down the street, stepping lightly, avoiding glass shards and burning the soles of my feet with each step I took. Yeah, people were staring, but I chose to believe it was because I looked particularly hot in my white linen pants!

I stopped at every possible store. No one had any shoes. Even the Running Room did not have anything appropriate. Finally, I stumbled into a popular shoe store where a kind and gentle man allowed me to wash my black feet in the bathroom, helped me find some new sandals, and even cut me a deal on the price. Pesto and K-cat arrived shortly thereafter. It was a disastrous mishap which ended in a testament to the goodness of people. Also, I now have a nice new pair of, more reliable, tan-coloured flip flops. And I’m positive the gigantic heat blisters will be gone from the soles of my feet within a month, two max.

.....i have removed a part of this post because i just didn't feel good about it. it's not that i think what i wrote could or would ever get back to the person in question, i just don't feel good about the level of detail provided. it's one thing to spill your own guts and wear your heart on your sleeve. it's another to violate someone else's confidence, even if no identifiers are provided. so, i apologise for my temporarily poor judgement on that one....

I'll leave it at this as it was the gist of my story: God, if I ever complain about being single again, punch me out.

That's all I've got right now. I tried to download a picture of Amadou and Mariam, but could not get Blogger to co-operate. Sorry.

xo tabby

Clowning Around

Right now I am in the pediatric hospital library and the hospital clown has just come in to use the internet. We have exchanged pleasantries and she has put on her glasses and is surfing what are probably pornographic websites.

There is a resident in here. I heard him telling someone earlier that he is an adult general surgery resident, just rotating through peds. He is absolutely mesmerized by the clown. He mouth is open as he stares endlessly at the back of her head. I love this place and have just realized that clown shoes can be very fashionable with the right outfit.

OH MY GOD! The clown just came over and asked me about a pin on my jacket - the one that says “MEOW”. I showed her, and she proceeded to give me a URAQT sticker and a white sticker with an X on it. She said “do you know what that is?” I could not figure it out. Then she delivered her punch line “It’s a clean X” she said. I died inside. I love this place.

I like this clown because she is a bit edgy. Kind of like Mrs. Doubtfire when she used to put her feet up with a beer and belch, or get on the bus and spread her hairy legs!

Vive la France.

Tabster

Advice from Tabby:

If you let your lawn go for too long, you will have to cut it twice and repeatedly re-start your lawnmower after it stalls.

Eating too much fruit might give you the runs.

Hanging baskets and annuals are currently on sale at most gardening-type stores.

President’s choice’s fruit-flavoured popsicles from the blue menu are like pure joy in your mouth.

You should bet your money on France as they will win the world cup.

T