The Goose is Getting Fat

I haven't been able to drum up much enthusiasm for Christmas this year.

I don't mind winter.  I can put on a parka and tolerate waiting for the bus during a snowstorm.  I accept that it's not optional, so may as well make the best of it, right?  But Christmas... couldn't we have it every other year?

11 months in between the onslaughts of seasonal pop music, themed advertising, and consumerism masquerading as genuine sentiment is not enough, IMHO.  Frankly, the only thing that I look forward to every year at Christmas is my friend's homemade candy cane brownies.  They taste just as good as they look.  Better, even.

(Photo credit to my deliciously skilled friend.)

(By the way, I should mention that credit for the photos in my previous post, about Pandemic Legacy, goes to The Internet.  They were all stolen, because I don't have access to the game at home, and do you think my friends were going to let me spend time setting up a photo shoot while they waited when we could actually be playing the game?  Ha ha ha ha no.)

Conspicuous absence of a graceful segue....

Once upon a time, around a year ago, I accidentally killed Big Leaf.  Big Leaf was exactly what it sounds like, a big leaf.  I have a houseplant, species unknown or forgotten, that produces large leaves and the occasional bright red flower.  One leaf eventually grew so large that I felt it kind of developed its own personality.  I used to say Hey and high-five it when I walked past.  Then, one day, when I was doing some routine pruning in my window garden, I accidentally snapped Big Leaf's stem.  I felt so bad.

However, in time the plant produced a successor.  Meet the new Big Leaf.

It's not quite as big as the old Big Leaf... yet.  It's getting there.  I am already starting to bond with it.  You can bet I'll be more careful with this one.

Pandemic!

I have to rush off now to play Pandemic Legacy, because my friends and I are addicted to this crazy board game and we are playing it with all of our available free time.

If you've never heard of it, firstly, congratulations on being less of a geek than me.

It's based on plain old Pandemic, which looks like this:

That's a map of the world, with major cities marked as potential sites for outbreaks of disease.  The diseases are represented by cute little plastic cubes.  The rules are many and complex, but basically your job is to work together with the other players to cure all the diseases and save the world.  That's the neat thing about it; everyone plays together against the game, instead of competing against each other.

That doesn't mean that it's a peaceful, friendly game.  There is plenty of arguing about strategy.  Every move is potentially debatable, and often is.  Sometimes the arguing starts before the game even officially begins.  That's okay.  That's what makes it interesting.

Anyway, plain old Pandemic is fun, but the game makers kicked it up a notch with Pandemic Legacy.  It's a game set that comes with stickers, which you use to permanently alter the board or various cards after each game:

That's right!  Each game you play alters the scenario for the next game.  There's even a story that you work through as time goes by, printed in tantalizing little bits on these cards:

Sometimes the cards instruct you to open "secret dossiers":

(These have important information written on the reverse side, but they are hidden because SPOILER ALERT.)

Or even mysterious, numbered boxes:

I could tell you what's inside some of these boxes, but then I'd have to kill you.

Anyway, it's all very exciting, and no one wants to miss any of the action or revelations.  So when a text message invitation arrived inviting Ken and I to an unplanned gaming session this afternoon, we did not hesitate to accept.  

Have a great day, and watch out for coloured cubes; they might be contagious.

Things I Am Not Afraid Of

To be honest, I have been a bit anxious of late.  The things that I am afraid of have been taking up more space in my mind than usual.  For example:

• Doctor visits, injections, and medical tests.  I got my flu shot two weeks ago, and then as soon as I got over the side effects from that (fever, aches, fatigue), one week ago, at an annual exam, I got my decennial tetanus vaccine update. My left arm has been continuously sore for two weeks, and has taken to asking me in a quiet voice "Don't you love me anymore?"  I still have to schedule, among other things, a fasting blood test, and my first ever mammogram.  At least a) it's not a prostate inspection, which would be even less pleasant, and b) I am apparently not yet ancient enough to require my first colonoscopy, so yay!
• Subway train panic.  When I am under stress, my ability to cope with being in an underground tunnel diminishes.  Initially, I only start to sweat when the train stops in the tunnel, even for a few seconds.  Over time, that increases to an adrenaline burst any time the train even slows down to a suspiciously lackadaisical pace.  
• Mistrust of elevators.  I have gone through phases when I would be willing to walk up many stories in quite unpleasant stairwells in order to avoid getting into an elevator.  I am not at that level now, however on a recent visit to my eye doctor I had the misfortune of riding on the freight elevator, which, for some reason, was the one cab which came for me at the time.  It was banged up inside and poorly lit like a Hollywood torture chamber.  I did get in and ride up to the sixth floor, but not without a fair bit of trepidation.

Things came to a head this week when a friend and colleague of mine returned to work after a surgical procedure.  She stopped in my office to chat, and launched into a description of what she had gone through during her recovery process.  She was only moderately graphic, and I'm usually not too bothered by descriptions of medical stuff, but because she's someone I care about I identified just a little too strongly with her experiences and ended up almost fainting.  She said "You should have stopped me!"  and I said "But people I care about are going to have surgeries and I have to learn to deal with it!"  Then I sat on the floor with an ice pack on the back of my neck for a quarter hour, feeling annoyed with myself.

Therefore, for the sake of my self-confidence, let us consider the list of things which I am not afraid of, as follows:

Spiders.  I have no problem sharing space with a moderate number of spiders.  They are playing for my team. They eat the bad bugs.  I don't consider this to be remarkable; after all, this is Toronto.  We are comfortably outside the range of black widow and brown recluse spiders.  The only tarantulas I ever meet are in pet stores or the zoo.  

This doesn't stop many people I know from freaking out about spiders.  At work I am on call to handle eight-legged visitors.  I'll pick up the spider on a piece of cardboard and escort it outside.  One time, when I didn't have any paper handy, I thought I would just scoot the spider into my palm to carry it out the door, but the arachnophobes watching me wouldn't allow it.  They were very insistent that touching the spider would be dangerous.  I humoured them because I was outnumbered.

Heights.  I mean, regular, change-a-lightbulb heights.  I'm not about to sign up for the CN Tower Edge Walk or anything.  But it's surprising to me how many people will absolutely refuse to climb a perfectly stable step-ladder.  In fact, they don't even want to watch me climb a perfectly stable step-ladder.  This came up when the guy who used to change the light bulbs at my work got a new job.  I thought that surely someone else would volunteer to take his place, but it seems that most of the people I work with are genuinely terrified of the idea.  

I ended up doing a bunch of lightbulb-changing myself.  We do have a handyman, but he's not always in the neighbourhood, and sometimes it seems easier to just haul out the 8-foot ladder and take care of business myself rather than try to reach him on the phone and arrange for him to come in.  One of my colleagues got weak in the knees when he came around a corner and saw me up by the ceiling fiddling with a pot light fixture. Others want to "hold the ladder steady" for me, although it's rock solid without any help.  The triangle is the most stable shape in engineering!  But apparently I am a heroic figure for being willing to climb up there.

Public speaking.  Yes, I do get a bit self-conscious.  Maybe I have a flutter of adrenaline when I first stand up to speak.  But it's not the crippling anxiety that so many people face.  It was Seinfeld who said that at a funeral, most people would rather be in the coffin than giving the eulogy.  I've never given a eulogy, which would be particularly difficult because of the gravity of the situation, but other types of speeches aren't too bad.

So there you go.  I'm not a totally weak-sauce lily-livered coward.  What feats of bravery can you boast of?

Royal Winter Fair, Part 2

Aaaaaand, we're back!  Remember where we left off last week?  We were in the cow barn, watching selected bovine divas get primped for the judges.  However, this lot had already done their competition.  They were relaxing, and resting on their laurels.  The cow in the middle had won a red ribbon, which was pinned to the wall above her.  Her name is Fireball Miss Tootsie Roll.

This cow is fascinating to me on account of her unusually furry belly.

But enough of cows.  They're okay, but if I had to choose between a cow and a horse, it would be a horse every time.  I mean...

My aunt, who rides and volunteers for therapeutic riding programs (for veterans, and special needs kids) informs me that when a horse's lower lip is relaxed and kind of dangly, it means the horse is happy.  I wish you could have seen the lips of these two horses wibbling and wobbling around.  They were obviously chillaxed.

Hello.  My head is just a giant nose with two eyes on either side.  BTW do you have any apples in your pockets?  No?  I'd settle for a carrot...

The horses were getting dolled up to perform in competitive exercises.  This fellow had his fetlocks freshly powdered.

Other horses had their hooves blacked so that they shone like patent leather shoes.  I love the sound of horses clopping on the concrete floor of the huge, echoey Horse Palace.  (That's the official name of the building.)  There are two levels, so sometimes you'll hear loud clip-clopping from overhead because there are horses on the ceiling.  

Finally, as promised, freakish veggies.  One of several giant pumpkins:

A terrifyingly carved "root vegetable":

(She's coming for your soul in the night if you don't pay proper tribute.)

And the Grand Finale, a mutant, world-record-breaking beet.

My hand is included for scale.

That's it for photos.  Important experiences I didn't photograph are:

1) A sheep herding demonstration by one tough-as-nails shepherdess and four border collies, who performed in turn.  The sheep also deserve a mention.  They did a lot of running.  My favourite part was when the shepherdess demonstrated how she could command a dog to bring the sheep to her, and it would attempt to obey even if she made herself a moving target.  The resultant scene was a middle-aged woman running around an arena, being chased by seven sheep, which were in turn being chased by a dog.  It was pretty entertaining.  (I was seated too far away to get a decent photo.)

2) The petting zoo, of course!  Where else can I get my fill of having my palm nuzzled by fuzzy goat lips? Another rhetorical question: Have you ever heard of a zebu?  They are a type of small cattle originally from South Asia.  The petting zoo had TWO baby zebus!  (And their moms.)  This is not my photo (my hands were too slobbery for photos), but this is what they looked like:

They could not. Be. Any. Cuter.  

My last animal encounter of the fair was having my hand gently licked by a baby zebu's dark purple tongue.  I was tempted the tuck the calf into my coat and take it home with me.  But I didn't.  Maybe next year.

Royal Winter Fair, Part 1

Oh boy, you guys!  I went to the Royal Winter Fair with my Aunt!  You know what that means.  It's time for an ADVENTURES IN SPARKLAND PHOTO ESSAY!  (tm)

As soon as the streetcar doors opened at the fairgrounds, we could smell manure.  Who was doing all the pooping?  Let's go inside and see.  Starting with this fellow:

A mild-mannered llama who allowed visitors to pat his fluffy neck.  I waited my turn and got in there for some fuzzy lovin'.  Unfortunately I committed a faux pas by patting the llama on his head.  His ears went back and his human (the man in the blue shirt right behind him) said "Oh, I can see he's upset now," so then of course I felt bad.  Sorry, llama!  I didn't mean to annoy you.  There should have been a sign posted or something.

The Poo or False game of farm knowledge for children:

Answers were glued to the bottom of the (fake) cowpats.

This big bunny had some serious triple chins.  I guess she uses them as a pillow when she's sleeping.

For the past two years, I've gone to the fair on the first Friday that it's open.  I'm used to this one building being completely devoted to goats.  I love goats!  This year I went on the second Friday.  All the goats had gone home to their farms, and had been replaced by sheep.  I guess that's based on the competition judging schedule.  Oh well.  Sheep are pretty nice too.

Two friends sleeping nose to nose.

Here's my Aunt patting a wooly head.

Some of the sheep had been shorn.  In order to keep them warm in the somewhat chilly barn, some farmers had dressed their charges in sweaters or coats.  These guys looked a little weird with their hoods on.  I heard one lady say "They look like Klan members."  

Well, maybe a little, but they are black, so the similarity only goes so far.

This little girl was having a snooze.  She was dreaming and her little hooves were twitching.  I imagined that in her mind she was running across a sunny meadow full of clover.  Doesn't she look happy?  I wonder what she counts in order to fall asleep.

 After a considerable time spent on sheep appreciation, we moved on to the cow barn.

Look at those markings!  They don't look real.  If I hadn't seen the cows with my own eyes, I would have thought these were painted on.

The cow barn was busy.  Some of the ladies were being milked by mechanical pumps.  Others were being groomed for the judging ring.  If you haven't seen a cow at the "beauty salon", being primped by a team of humans wielding clippers, hairdryers, and brushes, you haven't seen everything.  

We didn't watch the cow contest.  We did see a little of the sheep pageant, just by virtue of being close to the judging arena.  The sheep had strong opinions about being made to stand in front of the judges.  There was a lot of loud complaining from the contestants, which was then echoed by their compatriots who were still waiting their turn.  My Aunt, who does volunteer worth with horses and is thus more of a farm expert than I am, said that the sheep were upset at being separated from the flock.  Poor sheep.  It's tough not understanding why about almost everything.

That's not the end, but I'm saving the rest of the photos for another post.  Stay tuned for horses and giant vegetables!

The County

I am out of town visiting with relatives in Prince Edward County.  This is my third time here, so I'm not nervous about taking the train like I was at first.  Nothing to be scared of here.

The upholstery on the train seats reminded me of video games, or a much-too-easy maze.  Find your way from the red dot to the blue dot, without getting lost!

The train ride was uneventful.  When I arrived at Belleville station, I was flooded with affection for my Dad when I recognized him walking toward me on the platform.  It had been so long since I'd seen him or my step-mom, I can't even remember when the last time was.  Months ago.  It was a happy reunion.

Today we took a trip to Napanee.  It was my first time riding on a ferry in a car.

It felt weird, nesting modes of transportation like that.  Like, imma take my feet and put them in this car, and take the car and put it on this boat.  What's next?  Float the boat into a space rocket?  Or hook it up to a team of camels and have them pull it along?

When the boat started, and I could see that we were moving, it was also weird to open the door and get out of the car.  I mean, one is not supposed to climb out of a moving car.  That is not normally a good idea.  But it's okay when you're on a ferry.

Napanee is a pretty, little, old town.  We had lunch and a wander up and down the main street.  We visited the local pet store, where we received a warm greeting from the welcoming committee.  There was this guy:

who, having established that I was a head-patter, sat down on my feet and would have been happy to remain there indefinitely; and a black-and-white Boston terrier who simply would not stay still long enough for me to snap a photo. 

The bearded dragons were surprisingly sociable.

Lin's Barber Shop cum Art Gallery was a neat little storefront.  Lin paints all his own signage, like this price list:

Very Norman Rockwell-esque.  

And that was about all the excitement that we could find in Napanee.  It was plenty enough for us! 

The good, the bad, and the Bubbe

I hope that all y'all had a good October 31st, whether or not you celebrate Halloween.  The weather in Toronto was ideal for trick-or-treating: relatively warm, windless, and dry.  My "costume of the evening" prize goes to the boy who dressed as a turkey dinner.  He wore a table top (covered in a red-and-white checked cloth) over his shoulders, with his head sticking through a hole in the middle.  He wore a plate as a collar and a roast turkey hat.  The table was set with plates, napkins, cutlery, and several side dishes in small serving vessels.  Give that boy ALL of the candy!

I am enjoying the weekend, but niggling work worries are never far from my mind.  One of my bosses popped into my office on Thursday, and, without much of an explanation, announced that the number of staff I am employing is "extravagant" and that we must immediately begin ruthlessly cutting hours.  Upon enquiring further with my other boss, I learned that a lawsuit we are embroiled in is the problem.  Although no one believes that the claimants have any good cause to seek compensation from the business (except the claimants themselves and their lawyer, of course), the cost of protesting our innocence via lawyer$ is sucking up a large portion of our cash flow.  

Now I have to consider firing one of my dear staffers who has been a loyal and hard worker for many years.  (Yes, I could fire someone less senior, but 1) there's a cost-per-hour consideration and 2) it's way more complicated than you even want to know.)  I haz a sad.

In an effort to distract me from my anxieties, Ken took me to the fancy mall for lunch and window shopping.  It was super-effective.

Versace always wins for Fierce Factor, in my opinion.  I mean, look at these totally unwearable shoes.  Are they not absolutely the most chic ever?

How about these laughably impractical boots?  So awesome.

Don't worry.  Versace does NOT reserve all the bling for the ladies.  Far from it.  LL Cool Joe, these shoes are for you.

Speaking of bling, Birks' estate jewellery section (of course they don't called it "used"; that would be so gauche) had these spectacularly ugly Canadian flag brooches in ruby and diamond.  I would like to know who they used to belong to.  Clearly someone with terrible taste.  Think of the beautiful pieces you could buy for that amount of money!  I mean, I'm a proud Canadian and all, but this is taking it too far.

 Oh, and if you're going to a baby shower anytime soon, I found this Fendi sweatshirt for a 1-year-old for $320.  Some people really have more money than they know what to do with.

Just when I was feeling all relaxed, having spent Halloween with friends, and eaten several fistfuls of tiny candy bars, my cell phone rang.  It was my 99-year-old Bubbe's assisted living facility looking for a family member.  At 10 pm, this couldn't possibly be good.  I braced myself for catastrophic news.  Fortunately, she was neither dead nor hospitalized.  She had fallen a couple of times that day, and it's their duty to inform someone.  The bottom line at this point is that she's not quite herself, and she may have had a small stroke.  However, she still hasn't run through all of her nine lives, so she may yet survive to celebrate her 100th birthday.  She's only got 6 months left to reach that milestone.  Go Bubbe!  You can do it!