Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Happy Birthday to My Lovely Mother

There are only two women on this planet that have been willing to put up with the shenanigans, temper tantrums, goofy faces, oddness, smell and overall weirdness that I have subjected them to on a daily basis and not leave:  My Lovely Wife and My Lovely Mother.

Today is My Lovely Mother's birthday.  She turns 42.  You may ask how the mother of a 36 year old man can be turning 42 on her birthday.  The answer is "you're very rude, that's not the sort of question you should ask".  More truthfully, it was because I once asked my mother how old she was and she said 42, so that's where it stuck.  Over the years, I think it's gone as high as 46 and usually hovers around 44, but 42 is a nice number.

I remember her telling me that she has the same birthday as Abraham Lincoln. I asked her if she ever went to his birthday party.  Apparently, they just missed each other.

She also told me that the sheriff never came to her birthday party, which as a child was awfully disappointing news because the sheriff has a badge and a gun and rides a horse.  As a teenager/university student, not having the sheriff drop in on your birthday meant that you chose your neighbours well.  As an adult, it meant that you didn't get woken up by the sheriff because you went to bed around 9:30.

So, My Lovely Mother (who I know is reading this because she's my mom and reading this is one of her jobs) Happy 42nd Birthday and I love you!

Monday, February 11, 2013

I Am Amused

In light of the sadness of my previous post, I'd like to direct you to something that will hopefully bring a smile to your face.

Mike is just this guy that I've happened to be BFF's with since I was about three.  If you know me personally, then there's a 99% chance that you know or know of Mike.  We've been amusing each other for over thirty years (whoa, I got a little chest pain when I wrote that), and now he's entered the world of the Internet with his site vitruvianmanifesto.blogspot.ca.

Let's face it, none of us are getting any younger.  Thanks to a miracle that I call "him being born before me", Mike faces milestone birthdays sooner than I do.  To celebrate/anticipate/draw attention away from his 40th birthday, he has started a project dubbed The Vitruvian Manifesto (I added the emphasis so you know what an awe inspiring title that is in comparison to, say, the blognostifier).  His goal - to complete one hundred projects in one thousand days, which coincides nicely with his two-score birthday.

He promises to document his efforts on his site, and so far the entries have been amusing and insightful.  It's not a blog though.  It's a bjournal.  Which is a word that makes me laugh like we would laugh when we were kids staying up too late and saying all the words that we were pretty sure were the dirty ones that everyone was talking about.

I invite you to take a few moments of your day and check it out.  He's only just started, so there are only about twelve posts right now, so it won't take you long to start feeling an emotional attachment and general feelings of encouragement about this guy that you may or may not have met before.  He's a good guy, trust me on that one.

Also, his wife has a rather nifty site if you like books.

And their daughter is darned cute.  She once sang "Eye of the Tiger" to us.  The entire thing.  Not just the one part of the chorus that you know.  The. Whole.  Thing.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

...


There's a guy that I know that isn't going to read this.

Back in my days as a Theatre Studies Major (by adding the capital letters, I also add credibility), I met a guy named Wes.  Now, you might be thinking a guy named Wes and a guy named Weh, we had to be best of friends.  We weren't.  We were friends, and I liked him a lot, but I was too busy enjoying my newfound status in my second year in the program to really get to know the next batch of recruits that well.

Over the next three years, our circles crossed paths in that way that only people who are in a department that has less than fifty people in it and forces them to work together constantly every day can.  We worked on a couple of crews together, we joked about the classes, we lived it up at the cast parties - but never really together.  He was kind of this really cool, really funny guy that was always just outside of the periphery of my group.  He was really good friends with people that I was really good friends with, but we never really got to be really good friends ourselves.

When I graduated, I went on to the wonderful world of corporate culture.  I chased money instead of sticking it out, and while I don’t have any regrets about where I am today, I’ve always wondered where I’d be if I’d stuck it out.

Wes stuck it out.  He continued to work in the theatre, travelled from coast to coast and overseas. He kept living the life that I ultimately decided wasn't the one that I wanted.  That may be one of the reasons why we didn't keep in touch, I don't know.  

Another thing about Wes was that he had Cystic Fibrosis.  It was something he lived with, and from what I've gathered, something that he had made peace with.  I don't have memories of him being sick, that may be a testament to how well he was doing when we were together.  I knew he wasn't well, but I don't think I ever saw it stop him.  

Wes passed away on Saturday, February 2, 2013.  There's a memorial service being held for him tomorrow, one that I wish I could be there for.  This is as close as I'll be able to get.  

So Wes, Geoff and Pete: I'm thinking of you guys.  And though some might say it's a little weird that my fondest memory is the three of you kicking a corpse's head at a wall all night, we all know it needed doing.