busy bee in the valley...

Okay, I realize I've been remiss in posting of late, but I'll preface this missive with the disclosure that the last 2 weeks have been both busy and filled with much personal contemplation.

Last weekend I spent 3.5 glorious days in the "big city" of Toronto, seeing many friends as I wended my way through the usual haunts of my former urban Arcadia. I was handsomely rewarded for my decision to change my ticket to take the train on Thursday evening instead of Friday morning, thereby securing an ENTIRE DAY OF GORGEOUS WEATHER on Friday. Spilling eagerly out the door first thing on Friday morning, I made my first stop at my friend Richelle's place for coffee, conversation and a sip of the most godawful naturopathic concoction that has ever passed my lips - my friend Richelle was in need of some organic rebalancing, and a Chinese herbalist had provided her with sackfulls of a variety of dried goods to be boiled down into a kind of veggie broth. If you have the stomach for such things, then I'm sure the benefits must outweigh the obvious impediments of godawful bad taste, but perhaps that one sip of her mega-concoction was the key to securing my superhuman energy for the rest of the day -- I suppose I'll never know.

The next stop was supposed to have been a quick lunch with a former coworker and friend who was unable to join later evening shenanigans already planned.

It was exactly at this point that everything I had planned and projected for my Friday in Toronto began to come undone: because of a rather strange twist of fate the day was now to unfold as a series of happy, though liquor-strewn, accidents.

Arriving at my former office I was informed that due to some calculation of time worked by all during our fiscal year-end everybody had been released from work at noon to enjoy the miracle of good pre-long-weekend weather...so, umm...long story short: I had my first pint just minutes past noon, and therefore squeaked within the boundaries of respectability. Having toasted some time with my friend, who then whisked away to go camping in Algonquin Park, I gathered about me a crew of other willing intimates from the office who dutifully joined me for the next act - to be played out on an expanse of patio where both conversation and beer seemed to flow without end.

Cut to 9pm. I know...do the math, and you can imagine what state I was in - I had reached 9th hour of steady consumption of good company and good spirits. A venue change was in order, so those who still had stomach for the night dutifully trekked to a condo owned by one among our magnificentourage, for more drink and merriment, before a partial parting of the ways took place - leaving only 3 of us to carry on the night. We'd now reached 11pm - hour 11 on the town.

We three troopers (or musketeers, if you'd prefer), found ourselves at a nearly empty martini bar for that drink that marked my CROSSING THE LINE. Yup, at this point I'm sure to any random onlooker my eyes were a pair of shiny glazed ovals, and my steps a little wobbly, but the night wasn't quite over yet...

By MIDNIGHT (a FULL 12 hours from the start of this adventure), we last 3 hopped a cab to the village to possibly dance at Buddies. Arriving on Alexander and sensing our venue choice was less than hopping, we wandered onto Church Street and found ourselves at Woody's (a place you can best enjoy if a little glazed), had our last drink of the night and then, finally, departed said dive and finally parted ways...

The next day was initially one of recovery - 13 hours of outdoor/indoor social drinking deserves at least 4 hours of hazy morning advil popping - but soon took on a more mellow shape as Joanne (my dear friend and host for the weekend) and I set about to prepare for an evening dinner party.

I can only say that good company, such as we had that night, is the most revitalizing thing I know. It was so marvellous to be among friends, eating and drinking and TALKING, and secretly wishing there might be a way for the evening to continue without end. Of course all such nights must end, but I have been relishing those recent memories ever since my return to Pleasant Valley...

And so the final chapter, Sunday, was a greyer day weather-wise, and so was a perfect day to flop around the house, enjoying a precious afternoon in my second home with Joanne, and preparing for one final social engagement - a casual evening with Diana (the queen par excellence of 'Perfect Days'), who is never one to disappoint. More intimate, irreverent and at turns disarming conversation, more wine and a meal of the previous night's leftovers (tying up loose ends, you see...), and my weekend came to as near a perfect end as I could have ever thought to plan for.

But the point of all this, and the realization I had, was that planning for such things is never possible. Friday was a manic adventure in Toronto, made great by the spontaneity and sparkle of each twist and turn; Saturday was a more languorous and soothing day, a warm counterpoint to Friday's heat; and the cooling greys of Sunday, coloured by the last night of conversation, was the perfect punctuation for a long weekend spent mostly off the rails.

Monday morning was an early start, as I had booked a 9:30am train to the valley to avoid the mad crush of post long-weekend travellers (my calculation had been spot on - the train wasn't even half-full). So launched by Joanne, who I missed even before her car had pulled away, I entered the train station full of a renewed sense of life, but also a kind of apprehension at my impending return to Pleasant Valley.

A person cannot live partly in two places and expect a perfect harmony in either one. So my new strategy has been to exist as fully as possible in each encounter, no matter what the place may be, such that no premium choices need to be made. This is, I'll admit, something of a fantasy. Choices are made, and preferences exist, if only to allow comparisons - to mark time with meaning.

This week I felt most deeply the longing to be elsewhere, even as I tried to normalize my valley boy routines, and regain my confidence in my choice to move away from Toronto. It was, quite typically for me, the act of reading that dispelled my tentative posture: words can cut through ambiguity so suddenly that a whole week's worth of wilting thoughts are tossed away with total ease. And in my case it was Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose, that took me out of introspective doubt, and placed me back in the outside wor(l)d: yes, that's right, Umberto Eco is my Prozac...

At that point I could do nothing else but laugh at myself: something more people really should do.

The other side of the coin, so to speak, of my recents weeks has been the degree of general humourlessness I've observed in the good old Pleasant Valley - a sense of immediate consequence without an ability for instant release. But even that impression has been subverted in part this weekend, after having spent the evening yesterday at a vegetarian potluck with long-time friends and other interesting new acquaintances - some of them urban ex-pats like myself. Turns out Halifax is the new Toronto - an informal poll of the room revealed no less than 4 of the 10 gathered were considering a move out East...

Hmm...life in "Pleasant Harbour"??

A ways to go yet before we get there, but at least for the moment here isn't such a bad place after all.

like sands through the hourglass...

I have to admit that I was VERY tempted, just moments after learning the sensational news of the Stronach defection, to jump onto my computer and write some pithy words about the sudden turning of the tides in the House of Commons, the validation of all our fears that Harper's leadership leaves no room for moderate, so called "Red Tories," and that this has shown that it is a bad time to trigger an election, when so much is uncertain and still at play.

It was after watching my second consecutive hour of Belinda-cam coverage that I decided not to indulge in a cathartic session of political philistinism; the tornado of opinion pieces, soundbytes, accusations of gender discrimination (I'm looking at you Bob Runciman), endless graphics detailing the "latest numbers" (how many ways can you say "it's a tie"?) and other miscellaneous speculations, recriminations, and rhetorical demonstrations (I'm looking at you Liberal Women's Caucus) has swept me much too far from terra firma to make any meaningful judgment; it's all too entertaining to seem real, isn't it?

It should come as no surprise that the phrase "soap opera" has been bandied about the Canadian coverage of the countdown to the budget vote: a high-powered "attractive dipstick," backstabs her lover, arguably also an "attractive dipstick" and then breezes across the dividing line that separates opposition from opposed, sinks into a plush leather chair in the Cabinet boardroom, leaving behind a disenfranchised and embittered ex-boss, widely believed to be the villain in all this (though nobody can pin down exactly why), a heart-broken deputy who needs to take some time to 'heal' on the family farm, and all this capped off by a rousing hero's welcome from the goverment she voted to defeat only a mere week ago. "Like sands through the hourglass...this is the vote of our lives..."

And this is good stuff - too good to ruin with cool and distanced analysis, or sober appraisals of the tactics of all those involved. And there are certainly strategic games being played on all sides, no matter how "betrayed" Mr. Harper may insist he feels, or how "lucky" Mr. Martin believes himself to be, this is one of those strange stories that ultimately illustrates the old saying: you reap what you sow.

But didn't I promise not to write a short thesis on all this stuff at the beginning of this post? Fine, fine... all I will say is that I'll be on a train to Toronto during the budget vote, ensuring I'm a safe distance away from the madness when, one way or another, a major event takes place in Pleasant Valley, and the next plot twist on this soap opera called the House of Commons is revealed.

a story of extremes (or competing versions of the natural world...)

I will admit, my dear friends, that I once again found myself at a little karaoke bar this Friday evening, once more did I imbibe the drink, this time enough to take to the stage 3 times (!), and yes, it was really quite inevitable, again was I greeted by my fairweather friend Mr. Hangover on Saturday morning. And the weather was so perfect for my state! It was rainy, cool and windy; all around miserable outside - and so, with more than enough reason, I found myself flopped on the couch watching endless hours of television and even managed to see the movie Closer, which I can only imagine worked better on stage than in film.

But today, as they say, is a new day...the weather has been fine and fair, and I've gone for my first long walk through what was once the 'back 40' near my parents home - now cut into two equal parts 'back 20' by a four-lane 400 highway... So much for the quiet contemplation of nature.

Here's the nicest thing I found on my wanderings through the forest brush, a trillium (it's the litte white shape in the middle of the image - I apologize, all I had to capture these pics was my tried and true palmpilot, bless its low-res heart):


Ontario, yours to discover on the ground?

Now, this picture was taken in a fairly dense part of my nature walk - when the path was surrounded by forest on two sides - although you could still hear the whizzing of traffic on the other side of the trees.

Below is the picture taken just 5 minutes up the path (please note the lot full of RVs on the other side of the many lanes of highway traffic):


Rolling pastures, RVs as far as the eye can see...

But it was still good to get outside - and not only that, but I had already done 30 minutes of Pilates before my walk!! Talk about extremes...from karaoke-liquor-pig to nature-loving-fitness-buff. What can I say, the Valley is proving to be an extreme place.

I should add, before I go, that I'm sick and tired of Canadian politics, living and working as I do so close to the 'seat(s) of power'. I cannot take another poll, more live coverage of shockingly obvious scandals, another roundtable with political pundits, or more tea-leaf reading exercises in election date prediction...

No, actually, that's not quite true - just another whim of extremes, because I'll wager the political scene will hold me in thrall once more in a matter of days, since the BIG EVENT, the VOTE OF CONFIDENCE is (we think) happening this week...thank G-d I'm getting out of town, heading to the BIG SMOKE (T.O.) for the long weekend, to a place where many people still ask: "so who's in charge in Ottawa these days?" I cannot wait for my great escape - a weekend full of extremes no doubt.

confidence is an overrated word...

Machiavelli, the father of all lobbyists...

Yesterday featured one of those moments in our nation's political life that will surely be enshrined in a future iteration of Canada: A People's History - the day a Canadian government was voted down but didn't fall...Of course, strictly speaking, the vote that Stephen Harper and Gilles Duceppe engineered, calling on the government to resign because it had lost the confidence of the house, was not technically that holy of holies, a "confidence vote." It was, you see, as Mr. Tony Valerie, leader of the Government in the House of Commons explained to us, a "procedural matter." Only in Canada...

A couple of weeks ago Stephen Harper made a joke at a press conference about the NDP/Liberal budget deal in which he quoted the great grandfather of realpolitik himself, Niccolo Machiavelli. This little moment, though I don't exactly remember the joke, has been buzzing around me with increasing persistence as the possiblity of an election approaches; I don't know why, but Stephen Harper's words are my new gadfly... To remedy this, and because while living in Pleasant Valley I have time in abundance, I decided earlier this week to reread Machiavelli's seminal treatise called The Prince, a sort of how-to book for dictators, Kings, Dukes and Prime Ministers that runs the gamut from bad to good, wicked to wise, and always with one objective in mind - becoming the Prince and staying that way. I have to say, the man has some very good and startlingly practical advice, one salient morcel of which I quote here:

"...one should never allow chaos to develop in order to avoid going to
war, because one does not avoid a war but instead puts it off to his
disadvantage."

It was good advice then, and as far as can see it's is good advice right now. I'm not saying an election is a done deal or anything like that, but the chaos that is spiralling out of the House of Commons, and is being fuelled by a PM on the defensive with no apparent strategy to stabilize, let alone maintain the government, seems to require some concrete Machiavelli-style action. War then? Too late to avoid that, as the Conservatives and Bloc made clear last night by tossing proverbial egg on the face of the government - showing the government cannot even win a FAKE vote of confidence, so what can they be expected to do about the very very REAL ones coming down the pipes in the next two weeks...

I'm still in the first half of The Prince, but if shrewd Machiavelli comes up with any good suggestions, I'll be sure to email them to the PMO - anything is better than nothing, right?

it all began so simply, in sober solitude...

What 6:55am looks like

Above, dear friends, is proof-positive of my success in "morning-persondom" - this picture taken as my (mis)adventures began on what was supposed to be an easy-going Friday in the valley. You'll note the entire absence of other bodies on my Express shuttle from West to East, since, yes, I am now officially the first person on the bus each day. But from this innocuous beginning flowed an unexpected force of social shenanigans, and led, I will admit, to my first full-blown hangover in the valley.

My day started in the usual manner, as I moved about the office in my carefree administrative paradise, thinking of the evening to come; I'd made plans with friends to share a spirit (or two) in the main Pleasant Valley hotspot, the good ol' Byward Market. The day flew by, and so released from work I made my merry way to the first stop of the evening: my friend Jen's house for an outdoor hike through the backwoods of the Greenbelt, and then dinner before departing by bus back to the downtown buzz of the valley market. We arrived a full 1.5 hours before our entourage, and so, as you might expect, ordered a pre-party aperitif...and then another one...and then perhaps one more. And so more folks arrived, much conversation and carousing, and perhaps one more cocktail arrived at the table. And then Act 2 was hatched...

SIDEBAR: Since Jen and I are both transit-going "Westenders" - and since the clock was approaching the midnight witching hour - we decided that if possible we should capitalize on our downtown situation and take in a round or two of karaoke at our sometime haunt, a little gay bar nestled at the back of an enormous parking lot in the core of the federal bureaucracy heartland (Queen and Bank, for those who know some PV geography).

Word to the wise: karaoke and alcohol are inseparable, especially at small gay bars nestled at the back of enormous government parking lots, so if sobriety is what you're after it may be wise to think twice before entering such dens of iniquity...

To make a long story short, the last I remember I was tumbling sideways into, and then backwards out of a $36 taxi cab...and it wasn't long before morning was upon me. Thank god for advil. Yes, the gods were kind who gave us wine to forget our troubles, and kinder still who gave us advil to forget our wine...

But today is a new day, and after an extraordinarily 'low-impact' Saturday, comprised mainly of naps, coffee and a little too much television, I'm going to go out and enjoy the damned fine weather before facing my second week of early starts, and my new-found lonely first position on the Express Bus to downtown...

snooze button vs. lovely light...

I apologize for the general lack of posts this week - you see, dear friends, life in Pleasant Valley is retooling it's schedule, as I - GASP - try to become a morning person.

My wonderful, and gainfully employed brother has returned to the valley, and with him have come the trials and tribulations of car scheduling, and other such things. For this reason I, in an act best described as super-human compromise (or patent stupidity), have volunteered to take the 'early shift' each day, meaning I wake up around 6am to be out the door at 6:55am. Today was day three...I'm yawning as I type this.

My current consolation is a poem that occasionally bounces in my groggy thoughts as I bump and whirr to work on the Express Bus at this new ungodly hour:

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light!

Those words are Edna St. Vincent Millay's. I'm still waiting for the "lovely light," but am confident it will be beautiful when it finally graces the world. Wait for it, wait for it...

Well, on the upside, at least all the big bad leaders of the nation's political circus called Parliament are actually doing something decent and traveling to the Netherlands to honour our veterans; we may have some peace in the valley for a while, which quite frankly I'll need if this diminishing wax stick is to last until Friday...

Before I unceremoniously flop face down into my bed, I would like to share the good news: apparently the Republicans are cracking up. If that's not lovely light, I don't know what is.

"Uranus, planet of the unexpected"

I laughed out loud at my Globe and Mail weekend horoscope, mostly because I'm still prone to fits of giggles brought on by grade 6-level humour:

LIBRA (Sept. 24 - Oct. 23): Your first instinct is the one you should trust today, even if what it tells you does not seem to be logical. The sun in aspect to Uranus, planet of the unexpected, is encouraging you to let go of common sense thinking and do whatever takes your fancy, no matter how outrageous it might be. Common sense and logic are hugely overrated.

Okay, so if I'm reading between the lines correctly...

Health, health, health darling...

Finally, the damned flu-bug thing is gone! Maybe it's the collective force of May Day that has brought about my renewed vigor? Solidarity forever...and Happy May Day to all!

In restored health, I've spent the weekend being 'low-key productive,' but among other things MY TAXES ARE DONE! This may mark the first time I've actually filed on time! Okay, so fiscal year 2004 brings a paltry $32.64 tax refund to my bank balance, but it's certainly better than owing money!

As a means of diversion this afternoon, I listened to most of Rex Murphy's 'Cross Country Check-up' on CBC Radio 1, and must say the level of political conversation in this country is getting very interesting indeed. My informal averageing of 'real Canadians' commentary' leaves me with the distinct impression that most people in this country are actually above name-calling and other trash-politics shenanigans, and are downright disappointed with Stephen Harper's very personal approach to mud-slinging and general demonizing of the Liberal-NDP budget. "A deal with the devil"? Umm...maybe you should avoid overtly bringing up loaded Christian symbolism until after you're securely in power, Mr. H.

All that to say, my faith in democracy is slowly being restored...BUT, and this is a big 'but,' people aren't too impressed with whimpering minority governments that pander to everyone and everything with reckless abandon. So, the Libs need to act more like sane and sober statespeople, the CPCs (or Reform, Alliance, whatevers...) have to learn how to play with others, and the NDP - we're not too sure what they need to do, but it may or may not be what they're doing right now. At least we know where the Bloc stands, with two feet firmly planted in la belle province.

Looking to the south for a moment, check out this weekend's column by Frank Rich in the NY Times, it would seem that 'Right is the new Left.' American politics never ceases to amaze...
(Note: If you aren't a subscriber to NY Times online you can also find this column here).