Yep, it’s been four years. So the Olympics are back and our neighbors to the East, (or are they actually to the West?) have decided to host the party. They’ve been busy scrambling around ensuring there’s enough drinks for everyone, and loading up on cheezies and pretzels and Sun Chips - your typical party fodder. I hope they don’t have that damn munchie mix because I want to choose what I’m going to eat and when - don’t force the whole gamut on me at one time. Plus, then I start picking through the bowl to get one of the seven pretzels and people look at me all grossed out like I was digging through my garden before coming to the party (ok, it happened ONCE!). Anyway, this blog is way too far from it’s original point - the Olympics.

Overall, are nice pants. Seriously though… overall, I’m a big fan of the Olympics. I really enjoy watching random sports that I would never typically see and become a local expert during the shortness of the “games”. I’ll sit at home and turn on Kayak-hula-diving, watch for an hour, pick up the lingo, and then start to explain it to the next person who comes by… “Oooooo - that’s Johan Musseldorf of Northern Isthasia and he’s favoured to win - that triple under-duck dive is going to hurt his time…”. I always root for the home team and love to cheer for the underdogs. I think, really, that’s what the Olympics are about - cheeing for the little guy. Everyone wants to see the person who four days earlier had their femur pop out of their leg and stab their eyeball and miraculously recovered to win. If that person happens to be Canadian, then I’m game for the games.

I heard a local radio station today talk about how Canadian athletes carry the burden of our nation on their shoulders and feel intense amounts of pressure to win. Here’s the thing about that… I doubt that most of us could name more than five athletes at the games and are really sitting at home chewing our nails thinking that we HAVE to win. Nothing against the amazing work that these athletes do and to shortfall their accomplishments, but if we win five medals compared to 15, I don’t personally care. I’m not expecting Jean Allard-Dubois from Poutine Village in Quebec to bring home the gold. I’m not betting my life savings on Debra Wheatstalk from Northern Saskabush to make my nation proud. In fact, I don’t know anyone that’s going to the Olympics and really, I don’t care how they do.

Now that said, I’m proud of those folks for being there and hope that at the end of the day - they are proud of the simple accomplishment of being at the games themselves. I don’t care if they win, and I think most Canadians would agree, we’re just happy to see our Roots bedazzled maple leafs in a foreign nation - way to go team.

Anyway, that’s my brief Olympics take. I may write more as the games proceed. Now, I know I’ve had somewhat of a hiatus since my most recent blog but it’s not due to not having enough topics. I have about five topics in my pocket and haven’t had the chance to sit down and blog - so here’s a step today. Stay tuned, as always!

Read on!
Fuchie.

A heartbeat: truly a simple thing. A heartbeat is easy to find, easy to recognize, and easy to understand. As simple as this is, a heartbeat is also a wonderful thing because to an expecting father, it means life.

For the second time in as many months my expecting wife and I heard our growing baby’s heartbeat. I’ll never forget the first time. It was a simple doctor’s appointment at roughly two and a half months and we hadn’t put much thought into actually having any connection at all with our growing baby, but all of a sudden, there it was. Up to this point the only thing that reminded us that we were in fact pregnant were a few peed-on sticks that happened to show two lines instead of one (or did they turn pink instead of blue…?) and a few nasty bouts of morning sickness. All in all though, life was normal, my wife’s tummy hadn’t changed and we felt no more pregnant than we did retired - we knew it was coming, but felt like it wasn’t ever going to actually happen. And then, we heard the beautiful thumping noise of a pint-sized heart.

I had been prepared that a growing baby’s heartbeat is much faster than yours or mine (unless you count the moment of conception - oh dear!) so I wasn’t surprised as we counted that it was roughly at 150 beats per minute (bpm). The sound, however, is something I won’t soon forget. The rapid “boom-baboom-baboom-baboom” of my baby’s heart changed my life in… well, a heartbeat. Up to this point, I had never experienced the truest pride that only a parent can feel for their own child. And yes, I was a proud dad.

I can’t accurately describe how simply hearing the heartbeat of my child welled me up with excitement and pride, but it did. I was proud that my little girl or man had been doing so well and had grown him/herself a heart. I was proud that they found a way to have the little thing start beating so that they can grow and grow - my first thought “my little baby is so smart!” Alright, I agree, a bit cheesy, but I have to write these things down so that when the little bugger barfs on dad’s new suit that I’ll remember these moments…

This latest trip to the doctor we knew we’d be hearing the heartbeat and waited anxiously to have that connection again. When we heard the little drummer we felt a mom and dad connection that we had been missing for an entire month - I can’t even imagine what it’ll be like when I get the ultrasound picture, and then finally hold my child for the first time.

175 days to go!

Read on!

Fuchie.

Sometimes I get into the mood to write. Actually, I get into the mood to write almost daily but rarely ever do. It usually comes down to the fact that I don’t really have a good topic or can’t think of something witty to say and like my mom always said, “If you don’t have something witty to say, then don’t say anything at all…” or something like that.

I tend to be easily motivated to write by what I see. Something catches my eye and I can usually pre-populate an entire blog in a few short minutes. However, it’s the actual motivation to sit down in front of the laptop and pump out a fresh blog that I’m lacking. I tend to over think my audience (what would my “fans” think of such a crappy topics) when really, my audience of the three or so people probably don’t read my entire blog as it is, so the topic is usually a moot point.

Anyway, this blog is about two topics that I want to write about but don’t think either of the topics are really that good or that I could write a full blog on any of them, so we’ll discuss them briefly in Reader’s Digest format and maybe my audience will vote for which topic they like best (methinks I won’t even get a single comment - which is totally fine by the way). Here goes.

Topic 1:
Tonight whilst driving home, I noticed for maybe the third or fourth time a cat litter box underneath a bus stop bench. Three days ago, this cat litter box was on the actual bench itself, so has since migrated underneath. So here, in a nutshell, are my thoughts on this matter. First of, what a strange thing to find at a bus stop. Granted, there tends to be newspaper strewn around bus stops, I just always figured they were there more from people who were reading the papers instead of people who were worried about pet droppings. Secondly, the box is a full-on box with a plastic liner on the inside. This means that it was some poor cat’s personal litter box and has now gone missing. Third, maybe the box isn’t missing at all… maybe the box was fed up from having a “crappy” job (haha), and decided to take the first bus out of town and soon realized that it didn’t have change to get on the bus, much less legs to walk up those steep stairs and soon gave up and is now living under the bench. Fourthly, maybe the box was some hippie’s over-the-top statement at the poor condition of Calgary’s transit system - wow man, that’s deep. Lastly, I can’t honestly fathom why a litter box would have been left at a bus stop, but I find it a bit strange that someone took the time to move it UNDER the bench instead of just ignore it - wow, they really wanted to sit down. I’ll finish with this, whatever it is, something strange happened when I got home tonight - there was a cat on my doorstep, which has never, ever, ever happened - poor thing is looking for it’s litter box… Anyway, that’s enough of topic 1.

Topic 2:
This topic somewhat feeds off my last point a notch. I tend to have the attitude of “what is meant to be, will be” and right about now I’m really pondering that someone is telling me to get a cat - or that I need more pussy in my life (oh dear!). Seriously though, today when my Flyers lost (yes, they are MY Flyers), the first thing that went through my mind was “well, it’s just supposed to be this way”. Also, while gardening today (snicker), I found a massive cocoon. Excited, I decided to put it in a very safe place (hidden around the corner on my veranda) so that I could bring it over later for my niece and nephew for a nature lesson. However, later today I was looking for something to do and decided to hang up a windchime that we got at Christmas. I chose to hang it from the veranda (in the windstream, but not TOO much), and when I put the ladder down I managed to somehow squash the poor cocoon. This also made me think that I just wasn’t supposed to give this cocoon away - of all the days I could have hung the windchime before, I did it on the day when there was precious cargo on the veranda - sigh. There’s plenty of other aspects besides losing hockey teams and squashed cocoons that always bring me back to this point - it just sometimes seems that we have very little control over certain aspects of our lives - it’s just meant to be.

So there they are - my wonderful little topics. I hope you agree that they aren’t really blogs in themselves, but are both worth mentioning. In parting words, I have to say I’m really excited for the new Indiana Jones movie coming out on May 22nd - it’s been 20 years since the previous and really, that’s just ridiculous. I chose to watch the third instalment this weekend just to remind me how fun the movies really are - anyway, can’t wait to see Indy in action again.

Read on!

Fuchie

Last night I witnessed one of the most horrible events that I could ever have imagined. My wife and I were leaving a local video store and noticed a man who appeared visibly drunk stumble into his vehicle. We didn’t have a cellphone with us - we felt helpless. We left the parking lot just before he did and watched in horror in our rearview mirror as he crashed through a group of pedestrians on the sidewalk and sped away. We were paralyzed. I won’t go into specifics about how we did, but we played a role in having him arrested - I’ve never been so scared, angry, frustrated, shaken in my entire life.
We felt helpless. We really did. My wife and I aren’t big drinkers at all so we would never advocate for anyone to drink or drive regardless of how they felt or how close they lived or how many drinks they had. When we saw this guy our first instinct was to do something - anything. But really, there was nothing we could do. We were smart enough to realize that we couldn’t pull the guy out of the car for fear of what he might have on him (gun, knife, etc), and by that time it was too late, he was already driving away. The role we played as significant as it was, still feels so insignificant considering that someone lost their lives on that road.
The moment is frozen in my mind. We both looked over and saw the family on the sidewalk walking carefree in the early Spring evening. There were a few adults, a disabled boy in a wheelchair, two girls on scooters, and a dog - nothing too notable about them, but my wife and I couldn’t take our eyes off of them as we drove by - it’s like deep down inside, we knew what was about to happen.
You hear the ads on TV and the stories about drunk driving but it never really impacts you until you’ve lived through something like this. I wish he had hit a tree instead, and hurt himself. I wish he had crashed into a parked car and realized how stupid his mistake and choices were… I wish it had been anything but what it was. I can’t begin to describe how horrible this experience was, nearly 18 hours later I’m still shaking and very emotional.
I also can’t begin to describe the actions of the people around us. We had one man who invited us inside to talk and relax - a total stranger, reaching out, trying to comfort two other strangers. We had another lady literally give her cell-phone to us without second guessing who we were - everyone trying to do something to stop this guy. We had others frozen over what just happened - doing nothing because there was nothing they could do.
I give credit to the local police. Their kindness towards myself and my wife reassured us that we did the right thing. Their comfort and guidance encouraged us to do what we can - I think we did, and I know we will do more when that time comes. The actions of one man have impacted so many people - just when I lose my faith in humanity, it’s rejuvenated by the actions of many who helped us during this night.
My wife and I will recover. We are here, we are healthy, we are physically unhurt. Our thoughts are with the family who lost a wife and mother - words can not express. We hope we can help bring justice when the time comes.

Read on.
Fuchie

When some people think of a fun getaway they usually picture some sunny destination like Cuba, Mexico, or even Las Vegas. Well, for a guy like me, my fun getaway consists of golfing in frigid temperatures on dead-grass golf courses in B.C. While I agree it would have been better to have been somewhere like the Dominic Republic (or even the Banana Republic - I hear they have great sweaters there) I still had a helluva time during my recent golf trip and I figure, what the heck, let’s blog on it.
The weekend started off looking quite grim. We were a few degrees away from cancelling the entire trip. With plans to leave on Thursday, Calgary was neck deep in snow and B.C. wasn’t looking much better. In fact, we had one of the courses we had booked call to tell us that conditions were dire and that we should be forewarned. So what would the average golfer do? Well, most of us average hacks would pack it in, head for a local pub and forget the whole thing. But not Fuchie n’ Friends.
By Thursday the weather had improved somewhat - 6 degrees with light snow for our first round on Friday - and we decided we’d take our chances. So we drive the three hour drive, literally in a snow storm the entire way and laugh pretty much the entire time over our folly for even thinking we’ll be golfing. We were heading to the Invermere area, and for those of you who know the drive, Hwy 93 was in rough shape. In fact, Olive Lake looked more like Snowcone Lake, but then again, we really couldn’t see it through the raging blizzard - good news though, the truck didn’t spin out and plunge us into the aforementioned frozen pond. But, like true die-hard golfers, we surged on, shovel in hand…
Thursday night was a write-off… we ate, watched some NHL highlights (go Flyers go!) and waited anxiously to see what the weather was going to do. Here’s the next interesting tidbit: picture a 700 sqft condo with one bedroom and four adult men trying to find a place to sleep. We all brought sleeping bags and gave the bedroom to the condo owner (that seems fair…) and unfortunately had to double up on the hide-a-bed, but slept in foot-to-head fashion, granted the genitalia are all lined up anyway. The only thing I’ll mention on this topic is that the constant relief of male-ass-gas turned the cozy condo into a green-fog bear den… it was kinda sick - but that said, if snow couldn’t get us down, neither could putrid air.
We awoke bright and early Friday morning to sunny skies and no frost - we were thrilled. We jumped in the truck and headed down to destination number one: St. Eugene’s Mission near Cranbrook and the Bavarian City of the Rockies (aka Kimberely). It was St. E’s opening day and they were self admittedly in sub-par shape (no pun intended). Their greens were rough, but the fairways were overall in good shape. By the middle of the round we figured out how to play the greens (hit it hard!) and were getting the winter cobwebs out. My shot of the day had to be my very first when I tagged my drive straight and low and curving directly out of bounds until “THWACK!” it hit the o.b marker and shot back to the fairway - in a million tries, I could never do that again. The other notable shot was on their wicked 13th Hole (I think?). Here you have a plunging shot down to the green, but the wind was blowing a hundred miles an hour. I went third and learned from my other golfer’s mistakes (ok, they told me where to shoot) and literally aimed about 50 yards left of the hole and popped it WAY up. The wind took the ball and plopped me about five feet away - an easy par (ok, I missed the short putt).
My goal this weekend was to consistently break 100. I’m not an amazing golfer, but I can routinely break 100 hands down… so for the first rounds of the year, I thought that was a good goal. I finished St. E’s with a 105 which was actually second best in my group, but still pissed at the score.
After the round we jumped into the truck and sped off to the next round in Radium. We literally had enough time to get into the vehicle and out again onto the next tee-box - fun! Radium was a short round and we played “Bingo-Bango-Bongo” which is a silly golf game for those who can’t be bothered with keeping the real score. Radium’s Mountainside course is a funny little track and after the nine-holes I had shot a 47 (on my way to break a 100) and I had lost $4 - stupid game… We finished up the night with a steak and beer dinner and watched some hockey (go Pens!).
Later that night I was schooled (literally) in poker playing and I realized that I’m not much of a poker player either. I was out quickly, and out $10 quickly and started to realize that I’m not much of a gambler either! We hit the sack pretty late, and I wore a gas mask.
Saturday morning we woke up to brilliant sunny skies and a surging warm temperature. We headed off for a 9 am tee-time at the local course (Windermere Valley). W.V. is a funny little course with not many long holes, but the price is right and we’re still hitting the golf ball. Not much to say about W.V., except that I got my first birdie of the year (tweet-tweet baby!) and broke 100. I should actually break 90 at W.V. based on the short length of the course, but embarassingly walked away with a 93. The last two mornings I was in rough shape and not golfing very well, so I was looking forward to the next round to really show off my skills.
After a quickie lunch (I ate salad, trying to stay thin here) we skipped over to Copper Point, one of the nicest courses in the region, and the sun started to scorch us. Jay, being nearly albino, started to roast - poor fella. None of us really thought that there’d be much sun, so we neglected to bring sunscreen and paid for it. However, the golf course is beautiful, even though the grass hasn’t greened up yet. I played really well considering the difficulty of the course, but made a few horrible mistakes the last three holes and slunked away with a 103 (and I lost $1.75 - damn gambling!).
That night, we played poker again and drank some local Kootenay beer (try it out the next time you’re there) - this time I didn’t lose a thing as we weren’t playing for money. I ended up going all in after having a Jack-Ace pair, but lost when the other guy had three Jacks - I mean, how DOES that happen!? So anyway, I improved slightly and finished third, instead of fourth, but started to realize that poker just might not be my thing.
The next morning we packed up our stuff and headed over to Fairmont’s Mountainside course. There was a long frost delay, so we sat and drank coffee and watched some scrubby hobos walk in who were apparently playing golf. There was a big sign at the course indicating that they enforce a dress code, but apparently that dress code includes dirty runners, ripped jeans, and hoodies - welcome to luxurious Fairmont. They were all in a tournament and it appears as though there was a contest for worst dressed. I was a little pissed because if you’re paying resort prices, you’d except the place to operate like a first rate resort course - which was not the case - call me a golf snob.
I was determined to legitimately break 100 so I had the entire course mapped out based off my handicap so I knew exactly where I was and what I had to shoot on each hole to break 100. After nine holes I was two shots above that pace and figured I could make it up on the back nine. Disaster after disaster struck and I finished with a ridiculous 108 - I nearly snapped. My favourite shot was one that plunged into a rock-filled river and bounced out and flew about 20 yards right back towards me… sheesh. The only other notable is my hot dog at the halfway point. It was a self-serve kinda deal where you just grabbed the dog, put your toppings on, and pay. So I did… until the lady told me that my hot dog is ice cold, and it was… she tossed it in the microwave, but it didn’t do much, so yes, I ate a cold hot dog covered in mustard, ketchup, onions and peppers - ew.
We headed home, burnt, sore hands, but definitely satisfied with our golf. The weather on the way home was lovely and I was able to stay awake the whole way sipping on my XL Double-Double - thank you Mr. Horton.
I can’t wait to golf again, in fact I headed to the driving range the very next day, and I loved the weekend. 81 holes later I was a little sore, and my break-100 ego was definitely hurt, but it is what it is. Next year I’ll plan a golf trip, but I’ll consider pushing it out to May instead to ensure there’s no chance of snow on the course. Until next year, keep it long and straight.

Read On!

Fuchie

Well, it’s my first game of the Calgary Masters’ Lacrosse season tomorrow - wish me luck.  In fact, my aging body is failing me more everyday… sore back… sore ribs… no lungs… ah yes, getting older is fun.  I’ll see at 9:50 Monday night whether my body will decide to cooperate.  You, on the other hand, can watch my success at http://www.cmll.ca.  I’ll be the one scoring all the goals, fyi.

Game on!

Fuchie.

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