Joe Cummings

August 21, 2018August 21, 2018

Family First in BC.

Family First…

As I write out my notes, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s Baba has just gotten out of the hospital after having major emergency surgery.

At 94, she may be one of the most incredible people I’ve met with her Old World wisdom, quick wit, and constitution of Rasputin.

But as we pulled into her parent’s driveway high atop a mountain in Osoyoos, we had no idea how sick she was.

So no matter what adventures we would have, this was a good reminder of what’s important.

Family.

As we ate like kings (endless amounts of scrambled eggs, toast, sausages, bacon, hash browns), we caught up with our relatives. We learned that names have been chosen for a soon-to-arrive baby, though none of them are mine (frankly the world needs more Joes), and listened to everyone’s adventures since we last saw them.

We joked with The-Youngest about catching rattlesnakes by kissing them, which, in hindsight, may have been bad idea – and if he dies while trying to catch one, that’s on me.

I also may have advised him on such things as how to talk to girls, how to sleep while driving, and how to find gold in abandoned mine shafts. More great examples of epic parenting from me.

The-Oldest held up well during both visits, trying out his new social self. Like me, he’s more comfortable talking to himself than others, but he was on fire with the grandparents, asking engaging questions, making terrible puns, and being able to explain musical theory so it doesn’t sound like new math.

The-Youngest did his best not to fiddle with stuff, like the hot BBQ, the brakes on the RV, the nailgun in the house being built, or the satellite cable dish.

He’s a fiddler, and not the musical kind, oh no, he’d fiddle with the wires of a bomb as you tried to disarm it, and not because he’s cruel, but because his fingers have to find something to do. Stick in something. Twist something. Worm their way into something. Dismantle something. Poke something (mostly his brother).

Give him 20 minutes and I swear he could completely dismantle a tank.

Family first — Vacationing with family in Osoyoos, BC.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World was in her element, though.

Unlike me, she’s a people person and her friends or family are the whipped cream on top of her ice-cream life. If she had her way, she would have spent days with her family, sitting under the RV awning, looking out of Osoyoos Lake and talking about life.

But, sadly, The-Oldest’s head would explode without a piano to play, The-Youngest would end up finding a way to pry out every nail in the house under construction and cause it to collapse, and me, I would be run out of super witty things to say and be forced to share.

It would be traumatic.

So we stayed a few hours, had a great time, then drove off. The schedule demanded we be on the road by 12. We had a long drive ahead of us, a drive more eventful than we planned, but I was glad we’d stopped to catch up with family. It was time well spent!

And hey, thanks for reading this!

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August 2, 2018August 2, 2018

Alberta Trip – Day 1 in BC

Every penny counts when saving up for a vacation

Our plan began well enough (like most plans). Let’s see how it unfolded once reality got its grubby hands on it.

We were all packed and ready to go by the time The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World came home from work. By the time she had changed into comfy clothes, we had the car packed and sat waiting to go.

I think she was a little stunned she didn’t have to drag one away from the piano, one away from gaming and one away from looking stuff up on his computer. You can guess which is which.

We drove as fast as we could through all kinds of weather. Sun, rain, more rain, great splattering rain and then through fog, and out into the sun, again, which by this time had given up on the day and decided to leave the sky.

how to drive in the rain — Safety tips for driving in the rain

Having a family, now, I’m like a little old lady driving to church with a basket of eggs balanced on her lap. Not long ago, I was seeing how fast my rental sports car could drive in the desert and there was one time when I decided it was a good idea to double the speed limit on the California highway. But then I was only risking my own life. Now, I have the proper distance between cars, largely obey the speed limit and leave the texting to The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World.

Safety first.

The mood in the car was buoyant, though, and the boys were outstanding in the back seat, neither complaining or fighting or spilling something sticky on the car seats.

So far so good.

Suspiciously good.

We stayed with the Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s dad and stepmom. We arrived late but they had stayed up to make sure we were settled in and fed, even though it was way past their bedtime. To be honest, it was past my bedtime, too, but such are the things parents or grandparents do. We ate chips and homemade salsa (which was to die for), and quesadillas cooked on a super fancy version of the George Forman grill.

Then it was time for bed, and even then, the boys were great. Even quiet.

I began to worry that they’d been replaced by clones, or that The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World has drugged the juice in their sippy cups.

For breakfast, we had homemade jam that was simply outstanding and drank perfectly brewed coffee (the adults, that is, not the kids, no, God, no, on coffee for them until they’re at least 25 or not traveling in a car with us).

But despite the good food and the outstanding behaviour of the boys, the highlight for me had to be hanging in the garage with the-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s dad. The garage had the perfect smell. Pipe tobacco. Oil. Gas. And he’d set up a table there, his mint ’67 Dodge Dart behind him, his tools and automotive signs on the wall to one side.

Now, I’m not a car guy. The-Youngest knows how to tell the difference between a ’67 Mustang and a ’68. He could probably tell you how fast it is and what the car sells for, but me, I’m more likely to comment on the pretty colour or cool sound the engine makes. I have no idea if there’s a 250 CID (4.1L) Thriftmaster inline six-cylinder underneath the hood.

Now I can’t say we talked about anything important or waxed philosophical or discovered a cure for stupid, but it was nice to connect with him, just two guys in a garage, one nerdy goober, and one ex-customs agent finding common ground on sacred ground.

It was a nice, quick visit, the type of visit where you think, damn, I wish I had more time to spend there.

A perfect start to what I hoped would be the first vacation that actually went according to plan and didn’t end up like some version of The Hangover.

Next up, another visit. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-world’s mom and stepdad, and her amazing Baba.

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July 16, 2018August 2, 2018

Alberta Trip 2018 – As Planned By An Eleven-Year-Old

Trip to BC, Rockies, Alberta, Drumheller, West Ed Mall

The-Youngest Made Plans for Our Trip

Unlike his brother, The-Youngest looked at the google map we printed out, and then planned out what to do.

First stop, Oliver.

See Grandpa and Grandma. 5-hour drive to get there, so, download movies. Lots of movies. And bring something to play in the car with his brother. A good card game. Arrange ice tea and candy at top of food bag for easy access. Keep a bag of chips near feet for late afternoon snacks.

Remember to look for Ogopogo.

When we arrive, it’ll be at night. Right. Not much to do at night. Talk with adults as needed. Sneak away to watch TV if possible. Take brother’s music out of his bag and move it to mom’s bag.

******

Trip to Alberta — *The plan is put into effect. On the road to Cranbrook, the Rockies, Calgary, Drumheller, and the West Edmonton Mall.*

The next day, Sunday,

Visit with other grandparents, endure another 5-hour drive. Presort snacks by sugar content.

Begin the campaign to see the Calgary Tower. Talk to mom about how unscary it really is.

Watch more movies. Arrive in exciting Cranbrook. Try not to sigh heavily when Joe starts talking about the history of Cranbrook.

Continue to point out how awesome Calgary would look from the top of the tower. Swim in pool.

If weather bad, bug brother until he snaps. If good weather, bug brother until he snaps.

******

Monday, sleep in, endure 3-hour drive to Calgary. Start by eating pancakes. Look at the mountains. Try to see a bear. Or a unicorn. No, no unicorns. Sheep. Find some sheep on the side of mountains, yeah, that would be cool. Or a cougar chasing a hitchhiker. Assign the job of keeping an eye out for neat stuff to Joe and mom.

Arrive at the zoo, see pandas, snakes, elephants, and alpacas. Alpacas are cool. Eat popcorn. Point at Calgary Tower a lot. Try not to look embarrassed as Joe reads all the plaques and sings “I can talk to the animals.” Make sure to not let mom hang with the pandas too long. If it were up to her, we might be staring at them for hours and saying, ‘awwww, aren’t they cute?” a lot.

Hope that my campaign to see the Calgary Tower is successful. If so, visit the tower. If not, rethink manipulation strategies.

Try not to look bored when we go to see where Joe grew up. It’s a big thing for him. Don’t mention it’s not a big thing for me.

At the hotel, swim in the pool. Eat at Mr. Mikes so we can play board games and eat. Stay up as late as I can. No reason, but staying up late is cool. Take all of my brother’s pillows while he sleeps and hide them in the bathroom.

******

Tuesday, a big day. Get up early with Joe and see the tank museum. Joe likes tanks and no one else has any interest, so go with Joe so he doesn’t feel bad. Climb on a tank. And under one. And stick fingers in all the tankie holes.

Drive out to Drumheller. Run through the museum at top speed. Finish in 10 minutes. Take a selfie with a dinosaur. Ignore Joe’s joke about being a dinosaur or meeting a dinosaur or having one as a next door neighbour. Read no more than 1 plaque. Sit and play games because the museum has wi-fi. Avoid getting all interested in dinosaurs since that’s way too close to learning stuff. Eat a hot dog. Finish off chips in the car.

Endure yet another long drive. Plan out nerf war strategies. Review guns brought. Recount nerf bullets. Roll eyes every time Joe remarks on how straight the roads are. Try to see a buffalo.

Get mom to talk about her friend and how many nerf guns her kids have.

Arrive at mom’s friend’s place. Say hi. Play nerf wars until 2 am. Try not to win every time -That makes people not want to play with me. Try not to gloat and giggle and point at the losers – That seems to make people really, really not want to play with me.

Food unnecessary. Nerf wars will feed me. Hide my brother’s underwear somewhere.

******

St.Maria pirate vessel in the West Edmonton Mall. It’s the largest shopping mall in North America and the tenth largest in the world.

Wednesday, West Ed Mall. 9am-10pm. Waterslides. Rides. Free pop. Eat hamburgers. Eat Fries. Drink slushies. Refer to specific 4-page waterslide plan made a month, ago. Refer to specific 2-page ride plan made at the same time. Do not deviate from the plan. Try to eat my weight in pizza.

Mom will not be there. She’ll be off with her friend, ‘catching up’ which totally means drinking. Joe will look after us so look for opportunities. “No, Joe, you said you’d buy me a t-shirt, don’t you remember?” or “Wait, Joe, I know that zip-line costs a lot, but wouldn’t it make a good topic for a blog?” or, “Joe, if you buy me this new controller, we can play games together and that’s fun, right?”

Should be easy pickings.

The goal, come back sore, exhausted and feeling like I need to throw up. At night, take all the laces out of my brother’s shoes.

******

Thursday. Get up. Visit with mom’s friend, again. Talk to adults if needed, but if it can be avoided, even better. Remember to thank moms’ friend for breakfast. Remember not to complain if it’s something that tastes terrible – like anything with vegetables, fruit or healthy meats.

Watch more videos on the drive back to BC and tell mom about nerf wars, the West Ed Mall, and playing the Smash-up card game. Ignore pleas to stop. Ignore anyone saying they’ve heard all this yesterday. Poke brother a lot.

Try not to look afraid in freaky cabin we’re staying at. Keep nerf gun close. Keep it loaded. Keep brother closer to doors and windows so bears, ghosts or rabid unicorns will eat him first.

*****

Friday, long drive, again. Watch last of my movies. Eat last of snack supplies. Avoid asking how much longer will it be? Avoid talking about last report card. Avoid talking about the trip ending.

Plan the next trip. Harrison. Plan sleepover with friends and next nerf-war battles. Plan which Youtube videos to watch over summer. Interrupt brother whenever he wants to talk about Liszt, Beethoven, Wagner, Rachmaninov, or any composers. In fact, interrupt him whenever he talks.

When home, log on to the internet and see what Logan Paul is up to. Ignore Joe yelling at me to stop watching that freaking moron.

Go to bed only after being asked 12 times.

Remember to thank Mom and Joe for taking me on the trip. Give mom a big hug. She’s the best.

******

And that’s about it.

Too bad it didn’t turn out the way he planned.

October 9, 2017

1st Anniversary – Part 1 of 2

Well, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World hasn’t gotten rid of me after 1 year. That’s a good sign, right? Something to celebrate?

You bet!

But what would we get each other? How would we make our day an adventure?

To celebrate the occasion, we ended up getting something we both needed. Romantic?

Well, maybe not, but practical and marriage saving.

So what did we get?

1st Anniversary Gift should be paper. I got silk.

I went paper (as was traditional), but I kinda went 7 degrees of paper. I got us big silk trees.

Ok, hold on. Lemme esplain…

Now, I fully expect our marriage to last our entire lives, but trees, living plants, even small, fearless cactus will be lucky to last a week in our house.

So, paper, like totally comes from trees, and trees are good to have in a home, but live trees would die and since an anniversary gift is a symbol of our marriage, then it wouldn’t do for some ficus to shrivel up and die, right? So. Silk plants.

Big beautiful ones.

Made sense to me.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World also got us a marriage saving present – a huge duvet cover to fit our huge duvet. In the past, our duvet has looked like, well, ever seen an extra large pillow stuffed into a small pillowcase? Yeah, that’s what our duvet looked like. One wrong move and it could explode cotton and feathers everywhere.

Not the actual duvet cover, but kinda funny? Isn’t it? Sweetie? Funny?

But now we have one that no one can claim the other one is ‘hogging all the blankets.”

It’s nearly big enough for a king-sized bed and nothing saves marriages more than an equal distribution of blanketish assets.

But dinner… ah yes, that’s a moment for romance. And we had something cool planned. Or so we thought….

September 27, 2017May 12, 2018

Fear

Fear, true fear, ultimately comes from the emotional part of our brain.

Personally, I think it was how we died in a previous life and our spirit stored it that way so we wouldn’t, you know, taunt a lion, again, get stung by a bee and die from an allergic reaction, or climb to the top of a mountain to see the view only to slip and fall 10,000 ft to splat on the rocks below.

So, while the Jet boat ride in Whistler was fun, I have to say, ¾ of us were all a little nervous about this whole zip-lining thing.

Oh, we’d all been on a zip-line before and I found it scary at first, but ultimately kinda exhilarating. This one, however, looked simply terrifying.

It was called the Sasquatch and went for 2.2 km. You’d reach speeds of 120kmh (or faster if you were a heavy beast like me.)

When The-Youngest told us he wanted to do it, we said, no. Actually, I think we said hell no. But foolishly, we gave both boys the power to do one thing they wanted to do in Whistler and this was his thing. The-Oldest, as you may recall from the last post, wanted to play the piano.

The-Youngest showed us youtube videos to make us less scared. He got a pamphlet saying what fun it would be. He read testimonials and pointed out that no one has died.

So we relented.

It really wasn’t until we were at the base of the mountain looking up at a line of red balloon-like markers spanning the two peaks, that we realized what this ride was about. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World said, wow, I guess they don’t want planes flying between the peaks or they’re worried about the nearby gondola.

No, The-Youngest said, “That’s showing where the zip-line is.”

My eye began to twitch at that.

But a deal is a deal, we took the van up to the zip-line point, climbed a huge freaking tower and stood there looking at the drop, the zip-line sagging straight down.

We all went pale except for The-Oldest who shrugged and said he thought it would be scarier.

Are you kidding me?

I was terrified.

Being afraid of heights, standing there, looking down, I couldn’t simply override my lizard brain with a whole litany of logic.

No one’s died.

It’ll be over quick.

I’m attached to a solid steel cable.

Even the Dune Litany failed me. I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to wash through me. And when it is gone, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Well, all and good for some Dune prophet but it didn’t help me one bit. I was still terrified.

So was The-Youngest. And The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World, both pale as ghosts, but despite their keen desire to find a reason to turn back, they didn’t.

They took the plunge.

Then came my turn (and The-Oldest’s.)

He got hooked up and marched down the steps and stood on the brink of doom like it was nothing.

Me, I was shaking.

By the time the doors opened, I was shaking a lot.

Now for some people, this is no big deal. They’d do it naked, hanging upside down with a roman candle sparkling from their butt while singing Ave Maria.

Fear, true fear, cannot be decimated with logic

Me? Well. Each step I took downwards was, perhaps, the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Scarier than pitching my novels, though I had similarly sweaty palms. Scarier than going on a date at 50 years old, though in both cases, my heart pounded in my chest like it wanted to leap out and run away, have a beer, and watch other idiots do this.

When I reached the last step, the guide said, ok, on three.

Three.

My sphincter clenched so hard that I nearly created a black hole.

Two.

My mouth went completely dry which makes sense since all the liquid in my body had gone to make sure my palms were so wet that I couldn’t hold on to anything, which totally doesn’t make we wonder if we did evolve from monkeys who would surely need good dry palms to swing away from tigers or Green Peace or something.

One.

My life flashed before my eyes.

It was, not surprisingly, rather dull.

Go!

I went.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t wet myself. I didn’t even close my eyes. I got mad. Mad that I was so scared. Mad to use up all that fight or flight energy. Mad because I had to jump off a flipping tower and travel at the speed of a falling sack of bricks.

But being mad allowed me to actually enjoy the ride.

I did. All the way to the bottom.

But, as we gathered on the other tower, The-Oldest saying he found it boring, that he should have gone upside down and taken pictures, The-Youngest bouncing up and down with unbridled glee, wanting to do it again, can we, can we do it again, The Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World looked at me and I looked at her and we said, shit, never, ever, ever, again.

Because, despite us both surviving, there comes a point in your life where being terrified isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Fear, in the end, didn’t defeat us, didn’t kill us, but man did it make us appreciate a nice chair on a beach somewhere. Drink with an umbrella in hand.

July 12, 2017

Canada Day 2017- When You’re Wrong, You’re Wrong

Ok, so after Nerf Wars, there was still hope that I’d be right, that every vacation needed to be planned, but after an hour or so in the hotel pool, we retired to our room overlooking the Inner Harbour and waited for the fireworks with friends. Things had gone well. Very well. And I greatly feared that I’d have to make an admission.

I was wrong. You could have a good mini-vacation without planning every second of it.

But I held out. We still had the fireworks. Maybe we’d not find a spot to see them. Maybe every single food outlet would be shut down and because we hadn’t booked a reservation, the children would go hungry and be forced to beg for scraps from rich Asians in shiny suits. Maybe, because we had no plan in place, if there was a zombie attack, we’d die while trying to find a good chainsaw.

None of that happened, though. We had a great dinner with friends in our hotel room overlooking the Inner Harbour. Later, we found a perfect spot for viewing the fireworks, and apart from a couple of asshat punks who kept on shouting m*therf***er this and that while sucking on those stupid vape pipes, we had the most perfect time (and, frankly, what plan would I have made for those idiots other than bringing a good baseball bat?)

Even the next day, after me getting up early, driving out to visit some friends who were about to head to the Far East (Saskatchewan), we had a fantastic brunch at Spoons (another place I would HIGHLY recommend), played Smash-Up with my best friend (I lost every game), and even had an epic dance-off! (Yes. there’s a video of that, but I’ve been told not to show it if I ever want to wake up again.)

Then even got on an earlier ferry than planned. Plus, though the ferry was booked solid and there looked to be no seats for us to sit down in, we found 4 together.

Like it was planned.

The Prettiest-girl-in-the-world took this one.

We had the best mini-vacation I’ve ever had in Victoria. Our hotel room had two doors, and a bedroom for each of us. The weather was absolutely perfect. We found parking downtown easily and it was freaking free! We didn’t have any problems with traffic, the food was great where we chose to eat, and no one seemed to hate us for showing up 30 min late.

All with minimal planning.

So, I have to say it.

I was wrong.

The key is to plan just enough. In all honesty, I’ve done the total seat-of-the-pants traveling and it has its challenges, like arriving at 10 pm in Edinburgh and pitching a tent in a flooded soccer field or finding the only room in a town is a serial killer’s murder room (boy, that’s a story, I tell you.)

However, planning every hour simply adds a ton of stress and takes away from the adventure. Part of traveling is not just researching the hell out of an area, then seeing it, no, it’s finding something unexpected, something amazing you hadn’t planned for, something cool to do that you never would have imagined.

I hate that I missed so many of my friends. I hate that I didn’t get to laugh with them, hear about their lives, tell them my stories, but that’ll all have to happen at another time, or when they come over to visit us.

So, as my parting thought, as I wind up this mini-blog on Victoria, let me tell all my friends out there that it is ok not to plan out everything. You can still have a good time.

No.

A GREAT time.

July 9, 2017

Canada Day Epic Nerf War 2017

The epic Nerf war of 2017 would be fought in the backyard, a yard full of rocky outcroppings, bushes, trees, chairs and one trampoline.

Rules were set (rules being even better than plans, IMHO.) They were a mix of adult rules and kid rules.

No head shots. (adult rule.)

When you’re hit, you have to stand still until you’re tagged out by a team mate. (kid rule.)

No constant shooting of people who have been tagged out. (adult rule).

No stopping to reload (Kid rule, brilliantly applied to maximize their advantage, as you’ll see below.)

No hitting anyone with weapons (adult rule.)

No one running out into traffic, no one running into the flower beds, no one shooting an ally for fun, no one eating any bullets, no climbing on cars, no digging trenches, no having fits if you lose, no one screaming out things like “Kill them all, kill them!!!!”, and everyone, yes everyone, will pick up the bullets after the war.

A clean battlefield is a happy battlefield.

(ok, let’s face it, when it comes to rules, the parents are always locked and loaded, and ready to go.)

The war should have been fair. 3 adults vs 3 kids. What the adults – especially me – lacked in speed, energy and an ability to scream at the top of our lungs, we made up with cunning, experience and hundreds of hours of playing Call Of Duty.

However, the kids knew this, so they stacked the deck.

They each had a gun that fired about 300 bullets a second, backed up by drum magazines (at least 2) that force fed a thousand bullets into the barrel.

We had one pistol that had three shots and looked like the Cricket from Men In Black. We had one gun that jammed every two shots. We had a wildly inaccurate rapid-fire rifle that would have been fine had it not had a 6 bullet magazine.

Undaunted, we hid behind rocks, bushes and (in some cases) each other and waited for the onslaught. Blue bullets spitting out of their guns like horizontal hail, screaming like rabid soccer fans, they charged. We moved them down. We won the first game.

In hindsight, I think that was their plan because, after that, they spent the next hour shooting us so many times that I think I still have one bullet lodged in my ear and I looked like I had a bad case of measles from all the direct hits.

However, like the heroic defenders of the Alamo, we fought on, but we were outgunned, outrun, and frankly, outplayed. Seems kids can play Call of Duty as well. The Oldest would march forward like a Terminator with his rapid fire, belt-fed blaster. Fearlessly, he’d advance into a storm of bullets while the younger ones flanked us. We were so focused on hitting the Oldest that we didn’t see the little sneakerlings until it was too late.

The most fun part, though was when the Oldest’s gun jammed and he threw it aside, chasing around his mom while throwing bullets at her, the two of them laughing like crazy.

Panting, an hour later, we called it a day. I want to say we won as much as we lost, but having been mowed down about a hundred times desperately trying to revive The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World after being hit, I can say we likely lost badly.

No matter. We had a ton of fun. Even The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World could be heard shouting battle cries like a Valkyrie filled with berserkergang bloodlust. All I can say is it was lucky we had rules against hitting people with the nerf guns – “You call that shooting, Joe?!?!?! A blind grandmother with Parkinson’s could have hit more than you did! You call yourself a Viking warrior? Get it in gear, buttercup! Arrrrrrrr!!!!!”)

But, panting, sweat dripping from my forehead, as we picked up a zillion little darts, I thought, not for the first time, how lucky I am to have such a great family, such a cool wife, and such great opportunities for fun.

July 5, 2017April 13, 2018

July 1st Canada Day

Getting up early, are you mad?

You wouldn’t think there’s much joy in getting up early, especially with kids. They’re like little alarm clocks…

Oh, who are we kidding?

Trucks. Jet engines. Kids waking up. Decibal level of noise in that order.

They’re like garbage trucks right outside your window emptying a bin full of glass, chunks of construction metal and concrete.

Now, it’s not something the kids do out of cruelty, no more than a meteor smashes into a planet does it out or cruelty – They are simply natural disasters with limited awareness of the effect they have on the world around them

Hey, it’s 7am, I think I’ll slam every door in the house closed, then play the drums at a concert hall level, then make a sound like I’m falling down the stairs so you can’t, you know, ignore that.

So why get up early when, for the first time in a long time, you could actually sleep in?

Plus, in a hotel room, it’s 10X harder! First of all, it’s hard to sneak around without anyone waking up. You must have the dexterity of a Cirque du Soleil acrobat and the patience of a bomb disposer.

But I wanted to get the blog done and the only time I could do that is in the early AM.

So, I eased out of bed without making squeaks cuz the Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World has mommy senses (which can detect her child sneezing from a mile away), unplucked the iphone from the charger, had a quick pee without it sounding like Niagara Falls, slipped into my clothes, found my shoes without asking my wife, “hey, where are my shoes?”

Then, I found my wallet without asking my wife, “hey, where’d I put my wallet?” extracted my hotel key from underneath a pile of coins, avoided tripping over the boys’ shoes that I asked them three hundred times to put under their bed, padded towards the door without sneezing as my allergies kicked in and my nose ran like a stream after a rainstorm, then unlocked the lock, pried the door open and shut it without a huge click as loud as a cannon going off.

All so I can write.

But there’s also another reason I got up so early.

The world is a different place at 6am. Crisp. Fresh. And largely free of people.

Is the word a better place without a lot of people? Well, yes, for sure, but more importantly, it’s a lot more peaceful.

A beautiful hanging basket from Victoria.ca

In Victoria, on Canada Day, on this day, it was especially peaceful. The sky was a bright, desert-sky blue. No crowds filled the sidewalks. No cars roared by or honked.

Gulls cried overhead. The odd boat puttered out of the Inner Harbor. The air smelled of the sea, not exhaust fumes and sweaty people who forgotten to put on deodorant. The coffee was freshly made, the baked goods newly delivered and smelling of cinnamon and warm chocolate. I didn’t have to fight anyone to get a seat or wait behind anyone who stared up at the food board and took a freaking year to decide to have a black coffee…

So why wouldn’t you want to experience that?

Why wouldn’t you go for a walk along deserted streets, passing by the hanging flower-baskets dripping after just being watered, stop at a café, sit down and look out at the glistening ocean waves while listening to Bach play on the café speakers and think, my goodness, isn’t the world wonderful, my goodness, wouldn’t the world be better without, you know, morons, anger-filled nutjobs, stressed out parents, activists, honkers, clueless idiots who stop their shopping carts in the middle of the aisle and block the entire aisle…

Without, you know, people?

Cuz that is what the world is like at 6am. At least in Victoria. Today.

A perfect time to write. Because later, who knows what will happen?

A few sites to check out if you’re going to Victoria

https://www.tourismvictoria.com/ A good site for all things touristy.

Trip Advisor – Personally, my go-to site for tourist stuff.

Visit a City – You can plan days (so if you only have 2 days, they have suggestions)

Free Touristy Things – So you don’t have to spend billions.

Top 10 List – that leads to other top 10 lists.

July 4, 2017April 6, 2018

Canada Day – What if Everything Goes Right?

In my mind, they’re avoiding either Godzilla or a toll bridge

I’ve said it before, but the best stories don’t come from happiness or things going right.

They come from falling asleep while waiting in the ferry line and being woken up by honking and a ferry worker banging on your window and telling you to get the car in f…ing gear, in dealing with the Greek police after a car accident, in sorting out where you would have left your wallet in a place where people speak English about as well as you speak Mongolian, in pitching a tent in the pouring rain while lightning snaps overhead and thunder shakes the ground.

Now, I won’t say I look forward to those things, but they do make for good stories.

Our destination, this year, however, could prove to be problematic, vis-à-vis problems.

We had chosen to go to Victoria.

Few things are as beautiful as the trip from Vancouver to Victoria.

I booked the ferry in advance because it’s a long weekend and on those occasions, people like to travel to the Island and plug up all the roads. Now, the ferries have an odd rule. You have to arrive ½ hr before departure, but not an hour before. In other words, they give you about a ½ hour window. 5:00 – 5:30 to catch that 6 ferry.

It’s a hard window to hit in Vancouver traffic. Invariably, there’s someone who’s determined to set their truck on fire, crash into someone else or drive at the speed of a tortoise on pain meds.

Then there’s the whole getting the kids ready, packed, yanking them off electronics, stuffing them into the car and panicking as we realize we have to make a 50 min drive in 20 min now.

It can be quite the ordeal.

But not this time.

This time, we were totally ready to go hours before we had to leave. HOURS! And when we actually had to leave, it wasn’t like surgically separating them from their electronics.

Hell, we even left before we had to leave. BEFORE!

When we arrived within that 30-minute ferry window. No cards were declined. No one threw up in the backseat. No one forgot to bring the paperwork.

It all went fine.

Everyone who hadn’t made a reservation had a 2 sailing wait.

Sailing to Victoria, the weather was magnificent, the ocean calm, and the captain even yelled at a skateboarder over the PA system (stop it, we have cameras and can see you, you totally f…ing moron.) The Youngest read. READ! The Oldest didn’t once punch his brother while thinking we weren’t looking. And we listened to the Oldest’s newest composition (something honestly amazing).

It was horrific.

Like Heaven might be.

Then, we blazed through ferry traffic, found a parking space right in front of our hotel and got an upgraded room so huge that the Youngest said, boy, this room is huge.

Tegan and Sara in concert. Free! On the parliament lawns!

Something odd was happening here.

But it didn’t stop there. On the parliament lawn, right beside us, there was a concert playing – A duo that the Prettiest-girl-in-the-World LOVES. Tegan and Sara.

Musicians played all over. There was a truck that sold mini-donuts. People were dancing and smiling and waving Canadian flags.

So we listened to the concert for a bit, went to get ice cream, strolled along streets shut off to traffic and took pictures of the glorious sunset. The only iffy thing that happened was the Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World mis-hearing the cost of the ice cream (“$40 for 4 cones??????, are you kidding me?” “Not $40. $14.”)

No ice cream got dripped on my shirt. No drunken idiots tried to beat up anyone (unlike my last visit to Victoria). No activists shouted at us, outraged at something. No police sirens wailed. Hell, the Youngest didn’t even wander off to touch something that really shouldn’t be touched.

By the time we got back to the hotel, I was reeling.

Nothing had gone wrong. We’d had a perfect time. Perfect.

And all without a plan.

How was this possible?

And would it last?

For fun, a Tegan and Sara video (ad kept in cuz that’s how T&S make a bit of coin.)

October 8, 2016

Top 10 “Did you know?” Wedding Facts.

So, now follow me as I take you behind the scenes of our wedding to reveal some of the things you may not have known went on.

The bride-to-be wouldn’t let me see the dress until the wedding. I was banned from looking at the pictures on her phone. A whole section of the closet was off-limits to me. I would be sent out of the room when her friends came over. Like a bad dog.

I was on the verge of being a complete groomzilla. I blame my OCD need to control things, but the truth is, I simply wanted it to be the most amazing wedding for The Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World. Every time I came into to see the decorations people, they would wince. Or try to run away.

The week before, I’d spent days on the slideshow, first bothering the bride’s family for photos, then going through my own in dusty albums, then scanning them, then making a slideshow. I had a complete meltdown when 6 hours of work crashed and hadn’t been saved. I may have used bad words I was so mad, I even went for a run. A. Run. However, the next day, I was able to redo it all and have a good show for the wedding.

The-Oldest chose all of the classical music used in the beginning, putting his vast knowledge of that genre to good use. The dancing music…that was 99% The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World. I think that I, maybe, picked one song that was subsequently dropped. The 2nd -to-last song was the Hungarian Rhapsody, chosen by The-Oldest. His most favourite song of all time. He may have been the only one dancing to it by then, though.

I told The-Youngest that if he was a goofball while walking his mom down the aisle, I would go to school with him every day, give him a kiss on the forehead, go over and tell the girls he liked them and wanted a kiss from them, too. I told them we would shout “we love you snookumbums!” when he was playing goalie. We’d even make a sign. And post a youtube video. I told him we’d never buy him new pants so the cuffs would gradually creep up his legs, and the crotch would tighten on his balls slowly, but painfully. In other words, I would make his life HELL, until he got married.

It was a nightmare to carry the wedding dress when we made the outdoor photoshoot. OMG the photos turned out amazing, but finally, the bride gave up on me or the junior bridesmaids trying to lift her train, and she gathered it up in her arms like a baby and marched from one location to the next. Still radiant. Still so beautiful.

At the outdoor shoot, the junior bridesmaids and The-Boyz mistakenly took that time as play time. There was a lot of shouting things like, “Get out of the pond!” “Stop throwing rocks into the mud, you’ll splash the bride!” or “Joe, stop making faces at the photographers!”

My incredibly funny brother, Michael, making everyone laugh.

Both the MC, (my brother, Michael), and the bride’s father were sick on the day of the wedding. Probably a few others as well. But mad love to them for being there, and I have to say, my brother did an absolutely incredible job as MC. He was funny, charming, and did such an amazing toast to the boys.

We had no idea that the bride’s mom (and official officiant) would don a bishop’s hat when it came time to read the Princess Bride Mawwage speech. We knew she’d do the speech ‘cuz we had bugged her to, but the hat was a great addition and made us both laugh.

It was our Great Baba that got the dancing started. Without her, both The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World and I would have chatted forever.

All-in-all, so many things happened that day that it’s hard to narrow them down to a small list. When we took our pictures outside, the photographer decided to use leaves. Pick them up, throw them into the air, he said, and so The-Youngest gathered up HUGE fistfuls and threw them at his mom, giggling like crazy, ‘cuz, you know, the photographer told him he could.

But nothing bad happened at all.

It was such a great wedding.

October 8, 2016

The Wedding Ceremony

OMG! The bride looked absolutely gorgeous!

From the moment the bride glided in, looking so exquisite, so graceful, the wedding became something amazing.

All the stress of the day melted away when I saw her, radiant in her stunning dress, escorted by her two boys.

I could tell she was fighting tears. As was The-Oldest. And The-Youngest was doing his best to be mature.

My world telescoped just to her. All I could see was her face. Her smile. She looked so very, very beautiful.

I took a deep breath, fighting the tears of happiness that built behind my eyes.

We were officially getting married.

This was it.

The girl I knew I’d marry the moment I met her, three years, ago, Feb 26^th, at 3:15 in a small coffee shop in Langley.

I felt so happy to be here. I felt so lucky to have found her.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World.

My cutie.

She stopped beside me, only glancing in my direction. Her beautiful blue eyes shone. She was trying to hold it together. She feared a mascara disaster if she let go and just let the emotion overwhelm her. Behind her, the junior bridesmaids took up their station and, her boys – both as handsome as I’ve ever seen them – went to stand beside me.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World and I listened together as her mom began the ceremony. All else faded into a blur around me.

We laughed when her mom put on her hat and recited the Princess Bride marriage speech. Her mom had been nervous about this part, but she carried it off with great humour and dignity.

It was so wonderful to see The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World laugh. I would be happy to make her laugh like that for her entire life.

When it came time to say my vows, I belted them out. Proudly. Happily. The Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World whispered hers. Nervous. In her head, she said later, she thought she was shouting them out.

Then it came time to make my vows to the boys. Not something every groom does, but The-Boyz are such an important part of my life, I wanted to ensure they knew how much I’d come to love them, too. I’d spent a night figuring out what to say, then passed it along to the officiant to whisper to me so I wouldn’t forget.

The-Oldest listened, then nodded his approval. Or just nodded ‘cuz it was over. I don’t know. The-Youngest didn’t pull a face until the end, not sure, I think, what to feel. What to say or do.

But it felt good to tell them how I felt. It felt right.

Then I turned back to my gorgeous bride, we exchanged rings after the boys fought to get them out of their pockets and we were pronounced man and wife.

I couldn’t have asked for a better ceremony.

I kissed my new wife like I want to kiss her every day. With passion and love.

Then we turned to the room.

A room full of smiles and cheers and applause.

Joe 3.0 had been upgraded to Joe 4.0. A newer, greyer, wrinklier version that will likely crash a lot.

I doubt there was a happier man in the world than I was at that moment.

******

September 27, 2016

Wedding Bells Will Soon Be Ringing

Apparently, I can't wear a uniform like this for the wedding. :( — Apparently, I can’t wear a uniform like this for the wedding. 🙁

By this time next week, we’ll be married and heading off to San Francisco for our honeymoon.

But are we ready?

Uh, lemme see.

All the RSVPs have been accounted for. We have a final list. We know who’ll be coming. That’s a good start.

Ring. Check. Wedding Dress, check (and apparently amazing.) Braces off. Flower-girl outfits and jewelry picked out. Wedding cake and sculpture decided upon. Photographer, flowers, wedding commissionaire, decorations, venue, all booked. Food sampled and chosen. Tuxes fitted. Marriage license purchased. Projector ordered. Music selected (a lot by The-Oldest). Honeymoon hotel reserved.

Whew, who knew it was so much work? The first time around, my mom and mother-in-law did it all, and I basically just showed up and smiled a lot. Now, we had to do it all ourselves, organizing, ordering, and researching everything to make sure this would be the best wedding possible. Hell, I even discovered that wedding porn has a different meaning for men and women.

But it’s finally coming together.

Only a few challenges.

After we finalized the guest list, we had to do up a seating chart. You know, for the tables and stuff. Not as easy as you might think since not everyone comes pre-packaged in groups of 8.

Oh, we could have had free seating but at this event, we didn’t want a mad mosh pit around the head table or everyone hiding in the back by the baron of beef. Of course, we could have also gone with the idea of who is most likely to NOT get along with who, but we decided to have a relatively fight-free wedding.

Being us, we wanted to make sure everyone has the most amazing time possible. And, being us, we decided to make an excel spreadsheet, a huge map and 18 tables cut from orange cardstock. Then we went about figuring it all out.

First, we worked on what combinations of people would be the best. Writers with writers. Victoria people with Victoria people. Davidsons with Davidsons. Bonars with Bonars. McKelvey’s with McKelveys. The same branch of family all stuffed together with liquor nearby.

That took care of about half the people. But that left half that we had to fit in.

We looked at putting people together with similar interests. We put together old acquaintances that might not have seen each other for a long time. We shifted people from one table to the next to balance out the numbers (I mean, hey, having 22 at a table for 8 wasn’t working. Not at all.)

And then, just like that, it all came together. Like a puzzle with all the pieces finally in place. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World worked hard to create a seating masterpiece. Di Vinci, Michelangelo, or Martha Steward would have all been impressed.

But that left one big task. We had planned to have (spoiler alert, spoiler alert) books on every table. Books from our own library. Books that would mean something to the people seated there. AND books that would match our color scheme.

Now, for those who know me, know I have a pretty good library. But making all those things work on every table…Yikes!

We spent a slightly drunken evening hauling out books, taking off dust covers, matching up colors and sizes and specific books for specific tables.

It looked like Harry Potter had fought Voldemort in a library. Books were strewn everywhere. Small piles lay next to scattered individual books looking for a home. Dust jackets (The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World working in a library and all) were neatly stacked in one corner.

We hummed over who would get the coveted Game of Thrones book or the super funny Mindy Memoire. We found a place for an antique book of fables translated from German. We snuck in a travel book about the highlands into one pile. We desperately tried to find a table for the Princess Bride (and, in the end, decided to place that book, that most romantic book at our table, all by itself).

But in the end, despite us having to give up on our color scheme a bit, we found a nice stack for every table.

Now, we’re down to the last few things. Nails. Hair. Suit final-fitting. A speech by me. Slideshow created (oh, hell, I forgot to confirm the projector, yesterday!!!)

Can you guess what is stressing me out?

But I think it’ll be a good wedding. So many wonderful people are coming to see us exchange our vows, express out love, then drink and dance the night away.

This is happening, people!

And now for some Mike Tyson, cuz he’s the real wedding singer…

September 19, 2016

10 Best Moments For Me On the Vegas/Grand Canyon Trip

There were a lot of great moments on this trip. Big moments. Small moments. Funny moments. But here a few I might not have mentioned (or in desperate need of re-mentioning.)

Debating with The-Youngest whether or not the sky in the Venetian Hotel was real. He said, no and cited these facts: The Venetian sky was blue, but when we came in, it was night outside. None of the clouds moved. There were no birds in the sky. He could see where the paint had chipped off. He pointed to an access panel in the ‘sky’, like one Truman had seen in the Truman Show. I told him if he hadn’t seen that show, he’d be fine with the sky. Thank you very much, Jim Carey.
Watching The-Oldest follow the piano player’s every move at the Venetian. In later years, he might watch a stripper with such fascination or AI robots controlled by Skynet, but for that moment, that pianist was his world. That we actually found the musician in what I will now describe as ‘an epic quest’ was also a great memory, and I was so happy we could do something cool for The-Oldest who seemed always to be doing stuff other people wanted to do.
Wearing those silly balloon hats in Senor Frogs. Now, this may not be a cool moment for everyone, but I tend to be too serious sometimes or too concerned about what other people think, but on that night, I proudly wore my balloons and didn’t care what anyone thought. PS, I was also a little drunk.
The 1001 faces of The-Oldest. Outside of the Bellagio

Having The-Oldest vow to pull a different face for every picture we took of him. He pretty much succeeded, though I think we caught him genuinely smiling, once.
Becoming an honorary Avenger. Or a member of the Scientific Training and Tactical Intelligence Operative Network. (Don’t judge me.) I know I wrote a whole blog about this, but whatever, it was totally fun, and I’d do it, again. Only next time, I might wear my Captain American pajamas.
Grand Canyon almost defies description

Seeing the Grand Canyon, again. For all the lights of Vegas, for all the concrete used to make the Hoover Dam, looking upon such a great natural wonder should be on everyone’s bucket list.
Getting the nerve up to take a picture of the bikers in Flagstaff. Sure they were French, and with their girlfriends, but had that gone wrong, I would have found out how good the trauma care is in the States or hoped that at least someone would get time for beating me to death.
Watching The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World laugh and play with her children. Her love for them is beyond measure, and the happiness they bring her is beyond value.
I kind-of actually understood the Cirque du Soleil – Beatles show. I mean, who really understands these things? But I got closer than I ever did before. Plus, the show made me cry. I can’t explain why it would, but something in the way they moved…
You can even find a bit of Paris in Vegas.

The last walk on the last day. Night time. Full-on Vegas. I loved the smells, the sounds, the sights, the crowds, the energy, the colors, the odd-ball loonies… everything. That was my Vegas. Wild Vegas. Untamed. Sure the kids may be in therapy for years over that short walk from the Bellagio Fountains to the Venetian, but listening to the street preacher preach about sin or pushing our way through a mob of Hangover doubles is something you just can’t experience in Vancouver.

Oh, you know what, there’s really 11.

The last highlight was getting to spend so much time with the boyz and The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World. Seeing Vegas, alone, had no great appeal for me. Ditto with the Grand Canyon. Or the Hoover Dam.

Experiencing it with them, though… priceless.

I am one lucky SOB.

******

And that concludes our epic adventure down south. But wait, isn’t there a wedding coming up?

I may have a few things to say about that.

September 15, 2016

10 Things I Would Do Differently (Vegas and Grand Canyon Edition)

As with any trip, the real goal is not to see new places, have fun or expand your mind with amazing experiences. No, it’s to come home and analyze what happened and make plans to improve the next outing.

Day time and night time are completely different experiences in Vegas

Never, ever bring kids to Vegas. Ha, just kidding. But if you want to go to see the fountains at Bellagio or visit Fremont Street at night, then cab it. Avoid the massive crowds which can be full of scary people, stupid ass drunks and Chewbaccas. As much as I enjoyed those things, it’s simply not a good idea for anyone with kids.
Think twice about believing the kids will enjoy looking at the stunning architecture in many of the hotels. It’s like dragging a dog into the vets to get its shots. I mean, I get it, no one’s going to be blown away by the inside of Treasure Island, but I was surprised they didn’t much care for the interior of Mandalay Bay, NY, NY, or even the Venetian. The Venetian!!! Venice. Italy at its faux-finest! Sigh. *cancels next year’s trip to Europe*.
In Vegas, bring water. Same for the Grand Canyon. Buy it in a cheap grocery store. Stock up. It’s ok. But that heat will take it out of you in a big way.
Try Uber. We didn’t, but I wish we had. On the other hand, no one drove us to a warehouse and dismembered us with chainsaws, either.
Or eat at a Dunkin Donuts, you just never know who’ll check you out

Find cheaper ways to eat. We found that if you ate from the concession store, you saved about $100 for breakfast. (We bought cereal and milk there.) There are cheap places to eat, like Denny’s or even McDs, but you have to get out of most hotels to find them. Sure, they may not have gourmet food, but I tell ya, what’s going to make you sicker, a grand slam breakfast or paying $150 for 4 for pancakes in a hotel restaurant?
Bring headache pain meds. Double check that you have them. Triple check. Cuz, if you have to go looking for them while you have a blinding migraine… yeah, no fun at all. Also, bring something for upset stomachs. Those meds are easy to find in Vegas when someone eats too many Jolly Ranchers. Oh, hell, with kids, just remember to pack the medicine cabinet.
Wash your hands a lot. Bring wipies or that disinfecting gel, especially when you have someone who either touches everything in sight or puts his fingers in his eyes a lot.(Can you guess which one applies to me and which one applies to The-Youngest?)
Talk to people more. By and large, Americans are very friendly people and some of the best times we had were when we chatted with people in line or in a cab or while eating at Denny’s. This is really a ‘me’ thing since The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World actually loves to chat with people. It’s me and my grumpy demeanor and toxic glares. But next vacation, I’ll try to be more outgoing. “You’d love to chat with me about a time share? Well, wow, lead the way my good man.”
Remember that when The-Oldest says he’d kinda, maybe, you know, almost like to do ‘something’, but it’s not important, then he’s actually saying, hey, it is totally important and would make a great experience for him. Sometimes I think we need a universal translator not for Chinese to English, but for teenagese to parent.
Traveling without a rigid, confining schedule does not, in fact, kill me. “Playing it by ear” can work, even if it makes my eye twitch. A lot.

Pictures never do the Grand Canyon justice

However, this time around, I am proud to announce we did learn from past excursions. We knew doing stuff with kids takes longer. We knew to pack extras of pretty much everything since things go missing, accidents happen or things get spilled on other things. We had stuff for them to do on long journeys. We made sure to include them in the planning process (though The-Youngest’s list of 100 things he HAD to do made us think we may have to keep him to a top 10 list.) We took time to take lots of pictures. And we tried our best to make sure EVERYONE had a good time (like The-Youngest in the Hershey store, me at the Hoover Dam, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World in the fashion mall, and The-Oldest listening to a piano virtuoso.)

I can’t wait for our next trip.

Can you guess where?

September 13, 2016

Top 10 Quotes From the Vegas Trip

Is he being thoughtful or thinking up something funny?

So, our trip is done, the boyz are back in school, and it’s time for a recap of our trip to Vegas. And what better way than the 1^st of 4 top 10 lists.

Top 10 Quotes From The-Oldest

“I am providing the laugh track.” After he laughed, and I commented that he doesn’t often laugh at a lot of my super funny jokes.
“The smell just comes at my face.” It was the smell of Vegas after the rains came. A wet, kind of sulphuric, moldy smell.
“He’s the Beeth.” Now this means, ‘he’s the best.’ ‘The most amazing.’ It comes from his favourite composer, Beethoven. I have no idea how it got morphed into ‘beeth.”
“Coffee tastes like black.” Yes, yes it does.
His new word of the trip – “Danger noodles.” For snakes. I think this one will catch on.
The Grand Canyon “has been touched more by cameras than by humans.” Wow, I mean, wow. That’s actually deep.
“Girls? What girls? There were girls? Looking at me? What? Where? When? What?” After I told him about the incident in Dunkin Donuts where 2 girls checked him out.
Every morning in our hotel room, he’d write a quote on the foggy bathroom mirror to his brother. My favourite… “Will you become Luigi?” It meant, will his brother get taller than him. See, ‘cuz Luigi, from Mario Brothers, is taller than his older brother. Yeah, I didn’t get it until he explained it to me.
“I am funny. I had meat.” After I told him he was on fire one night for all the funnyisms.
Then the words that may define him. “I’ve found my passion, Joe. Music. It’s what’s in me.” How cool is that? It brought manly tears to my eyes.

I know there were more, but being old and forgetting things, these were the best that I could recall. When did he become such a funny guy? A deep thinker? Or has it always been that way and he’s just becoming more comfortable belting it out so I can hear him.

Either way, he’s an astounding cool guy.

Next up, the best things to do in Vegas with Kids. In my opinion.

Peace out.