9/18/2006 09:12:00 PM|||NormMonkey||| From the silly-childrens-stories department:
THE DUMPTYS
Humpty Dumpty was a blacksmith, working in the castle smithy for the King. The smithy, if one went looking for it, would be found between the soldiers' barracks and the stables along the castle's inner wall. Between the outer and inner walls lay the homes of many peasants and the fields that they tended. Within the inner walls lived the King himself and the gentry.
Not one of which was poor Humpty! Little more than a peasant himself, he was a short fellow who walked with a limp. The peasant-folk admired and respected him though, for it was he that they came to with their broken pitchforks and their bent hoes. As the King's Blacksmith, Humpty's duties were strictly to the King and in service to His Royal Army. Yet even when he had a full day's work of making horseshoes and nails, mending swords and such, Humpty would always find a little extra time to help the common people.
His wife didn't mind that he usually came home late, for she too enjoyed an excellent reputation among the peasants. They oft invited her to dine with them, as did she invite them quite frequently to sup with her family, and their children would play with the young Dumptys.
Some days when Humpty was simply overwhelmed by all the work, he would walk atop the inner wall until he came to his special place along the edge, where he would sit in silence and admire the lands around and beyond the castle. Surely even the King's own view was not as scenic! The castle was built along the edge of a canyon with a rushing river at the bottom and beautiful rolling hills of green on the far side. Alone with the sound of the water and surrounded by all this beauty, he would calm quickly, and soon return home.
Humpty lived in his hut with his wife, Penelope. As his name suggests, they had quite a few children, the oldest of which were his son George and his daughter Sam. From the way that Sam had kicked and rolled and wiggled around in her mom's womb, the Dumptys were certain that a boy would be born, and so they'd come up with the name early on. Boy, were they surprised when she was a girl! They decided to name her Samantha but always called her Sam. Humpty's old father Grumpty lived in their house as well, and would spend his time watching over the kids while Penelope tended to the house and garden.
Young Sam was a lonesome child. She did not get along well with the other little girls, for in their games they pretended to be Maids and Maidens from the Castle Proper. Sam had no time for such games, as she found the most joy in building mud castles, grass fortresses and such. The little peasant boys mostly played pretend soldier, fighting and fencing with swords they'd made of wood, and bamboo rapiers. They weren't yet of an age where they felt girls were fun to play with and in any event Sam did not like fighting, so she divided her free time between building things on her own and watching her father work in the smithy.
George, on the other hand, was rambunctious. A short boy like his father, he loved to play pretend-soldier and fight with the other little boys. He noticed that there was one boy who didn't join the games, though he sometimes watched from the sidelines. George met this other boy and soon found that nobody would play with him because he was different than everybody else: he had been born with two anuses!
George thought that was weird, but didn't see why this meant nobody would be friends with him. So the two became friends, and soon Anal Two (as the boys called him, for boys will be boys) joined in the fighting games with the rest of the little boys. Anal Two always thought highly of George for becoming his friend and helping him become part of the group.
THE KINGDOM GOES to WAR
The Kingdom was built on a plateau, below which was a lush, green valley. The castle itself was well-placed along the edge of the canyon, which was easier to defend since attackers couldn't surround it. The inner wall protected the castle itself, the home of the King and the homes of his Royal Advisors, the Knight Commanders and the other gentry. The outer wall protected the homes of the peasants and the crops that they grew.
The herders, however, needed lots of land for their animals to graze. Since the early days, they lead their animals out onto the plateau. Eventually the time came when the plateau alone was not enough. The only place they could go was down in to valley, and sadly the valley was the land where the Tunnellers lived.
These were people who lived underground, their homes a network of tunnels and underground caverns. When the herders came from the Kingdom, the undergroundsmen soon found that heavy cattle would sometimes cause one of their tunnels to collapse, or worse yet a group of Tunnellers could find their dinner interrupted with a herd of sheep upon their heads!
With nowhere else to go, the herders had to use the valley for grazing. The Tunnellers became angry and eventually fought back by building pits and traps. Soon thereafter the herders asked the King to send soldiers who would accompany the herd in the day and keep watch over the grazing fields at night.
Clashes between the soldiers and the pit-diggers soon escalated into an all-out war between the Kingdom and the Tunnellers. The Kingdom became a very busy place, and Humpty would spend all of his time, day and night, repairing broken swords, catapults and other battle equipment and making new arrowheads for the war.
One day, Humpty had worked non-stop for three long days and three long nights in a row and was very, very weary. In his head the echoes of the hammer against the anvil would not stop pounding over and over again. All he could smell was sweat and hot iron. He had to get away, to take a walk, cool down and calm his nerves. He made his way along the wall, kicking at loose stones here and there, until he got to his usual spot. He sat down with a thump and rested his head in his hands.
Lo and behold, he was exhausted and soon fell asleep. As he slumbered there on the wall, he slowly started to lean forward until suddenly he slipped off the edge! Nobody knows if he ever woke up as he fell a great distance to the land below, and though the King's Royal Mounted Search Party found him and his Royal Physicians tended to him as best they could, he never awoke again.
GEORGE DUMPTY and the FRENCH MINSTREL
It was a dark, dark day in the Dumpty household. Old Grumpty's heart could not bear the loss of his beloved son, and he fell into a coma from which he never returned. Penelope wept with grief and could not stop crying, for she had loved Humpty with all her heart and soul. Many of the peasant-women came to comfort her and they soon became nervous when she would not stop weeping.
To make matters worse, George was uncertain and restless and kept running around. He would not stop asking, "What's gone wrong, what has happened to my father?" Finally, unable to bear him any longer, the distressed peasant-women got fed up, turned on him all at once and told him to be quiet and go away!
Needless to say he was frightened out of his wits as he ran out of the house, out of the castle walls, across the plateau and finally to a grove of trees where he stopped because he could run no further. There he lay, panting from his mad dash and gasping and gulping for air until finally it hurt to swallow. His throat was parched for he had not had any water before the distressed gathering turned upon him; he had run far under the hot sun and was quite dehydrated.
Luckily for George, Anal Two had heard the tragic news and had gone looking for him. It was fortunate that Anal Two found George when he did, for no sooner had he given his greeting than from the bushes behind them they heard rustling, and a dark shape they did see. It was a small bear! The bear roared and growled, for this place was its home. Suddenly it attacked!
George, exhausted and dehydrated, could do little but stare as the bear made for his friend. As the bear closed in, Anal Two tripped on a root and fell backwards! Oh, no! With the bear above him and unable to run, Anal Two acted in desperation: he grabbed the bear above its paws and, keeping its sharp claws away from his neck, kicked up hard with his feet, throwing the bear away from him.
The bear landed with a thud, rolled backwards and curled into a ball. Anal Two jumped up and grabbed George's arm, leading him out of the grove. Down the path they ran until they reached a cross-roads. Lo and behold, who should they meet but the French Minstrel! This French Minstrel was famous, for he roamed the land in search of stories that he would take back to his own homeland to tell to his people.
Still mighty shaken, George told his story: "Those crazy women, they shouted and yelled at me all at once! I ran here from the castle and was so out of breath and parched, and though I tried I could not swallow! I sat down and waited to catch my breath. Then Anal Two here, he came and found me, but we saw a bear! And Anal Two hit the bear so hard it curled into a knot! And then he lead me here."
George had just finished his story when suddenly a mad watchman from the castle came running by wearing nothing but his watchman's hat and a sheet wrapped around his waist! He was covered in lice, and as he ran by he swatted at himself in fits using a small book he was carrying. George and Anal Two just stared at each other while the French Minstrel's gaze followed the crazy watchman, jaw dropped in amazement.
SAM DUMPTY SAVES the KINGDOM
Some years passed since that time, and the war was not going well for the Kingdom. The soldiers had a hard time fighting; their swords were bent and none of their carts and catapults would work anymore. Their horses couldn't handle the hard terrain with broken horseshoes. The King ordered the gates of the Outer Wall to be closed and barred. They were on the defensive.
By this time Sam had been thinking hard about some things. She had some ideas, but every time she approached somebody to talk with them about it they would say things like, "What does a young woman know of man's business? Would that your father were here today, then the smithy would be open and we could fight this war!" She soon learned she would get no sympathy nor bend any adult's ear to hear her plans.
She sought out her brother George and his friend who nowadays was called by his real name, Tomas. The three of them discussed some of her ideas, and with a few nights' collaboration had come to a plan that might work. The boys were helpful, for they had spent time with the work crews to rebuild much of the castle that was damaged in the war, and had learned new skills. Tomas, it turned out, had quite a knack for proposing unique and creative solutions.
Together the three of them spent a week learning to run the old closed-down smithy. They learned how to light the coals, blow the bellows, bend and shape hot iron. For the rest of that month they worked, the boys coming during the evenings and nights when the work crews rested. Sam spent most of her free day-time going over their plan in her head, thinking of refinements and improvements. At night she worked hard with the boys.
Soon the shelves of the smithy were filled with the fruits of their labour: they had yards and yards of chain; long stakes; a tough sledgehammer; an odd device that looked like a boat's anchor; a miniature catapult; and two round rings. They had also spent time braiding many lengths of twine together into two long, sturdy ropes.
One morning, Sam and the two boys, each carrying some of the things they'd made, climbed and walked along the edge of the castle wall, the very same one that Humpty had walked in days gone by. When they came to the place where Humpty had fallen, Sam stopped. She fell to her knees and cried, her hair falling across her face. Tomas and George looked on in sympathy, their hearts saddened. Then George went to his sister and gave her a great hug. As Tomas looked away, I do believe Sam saw him wipe away a tear.
The trio proceeded to the very end of the wall where it met the canyon. There they put down their load and went to work. George pounded in a stake with the sledgehammer. Tomas assembled the mini-catapult. Sam coiled up the two ropes and tied one of them to the stake. The other end of this rope she tied to the anchor.
They made ready the catapult with the anchor sitting in its basket. Then they launched it, and the anchor flew across the canyon and landed on the far side. They pulled it back towards them but it did not catch on anything, and they dragged it back all the way to the edge and it fell into the canyon.
By the rope tied to the stake they hauled it back up. They made ready the catapult again. Using what they learned from the catapult's first throw, they aimed it carefully so that the anchor would land on the far side of some boulders. They launched the catapult and once more the anchor sailed through the air. It struck a boulder and alas, it fell right on the top! They knew would not hook if they hauled it back.
Then Sam had an idea: she grabbed the rope and gave it a mighty flick which travelled in a wave down the rope but did not move the anchor. The boys caught on, however, and soon all three of them were waving the rope up and down causing waves to run down its length. Suddenly the anchor twitched, slid, and then fell on the far side of the rocks! They gave it a long, hard yank and it stayed fast.
Next came the most scary task of all: someone would have to crawl along the rope, across the canyon to the other side. Sam volunteered, for although she was frightened of falling, she knew that she was the lightest and so would put the least strain on their rope and anchor.
The second rope she tied around her waist, strapping the sledgehammer and a stake to her stomach at the same time, which made her weight the equal of one of the boys. The boys held fast to the other end of the second rope, looping it around the stake but also tying it around George's waist and standing ready to save their friend should the worst happen.
Slipping one of the rings over her arm and up to her shoulder, Sam started her journey across by hooking her legs overtop of the rope. Then, upside-down, she reached backwards along the rope with her hands. Hanging under the rope, she would pull her legs close, reach back, and in this way she proceeded across the canyon. Moving along very much like an inchworm, she reached the other side in safety where, for a moment, she lay back to catch her breath.
Sam used the sledgehammer to drive her stake into the ground on the far side. She untied the second rope that had been 'round her waist, slipped it through the ring and lashed it to the stake. The boys secured their end to their stake, drawing the rope tight. Now Sam went to the anchor behind the boulders and untied the end of the first rope which she brought back, looped through the metal ring and tied to her stake. Finally, she took up the slack on this rope and made a tight knot on the ring.
Everything became easy from here on: they now had enough of the second rope so that they could tug the metal ring back and forth across the first rope. The boys ran back and each grabbed a length of chain from the smithy, bringing two more stakes and the other ring as well. They soon had two lengths of chain running side by side across the chasm, each with its own ring and enough rope on either side to send the ring to and fro.
It was not long before others saw what they had done: they now had the makings of a bridge across the canyon! More people came to help build the bridge, bringing rope and planks. Soon it became clear to everyone that the people of the Kingdom had a way to reach a new land full of fertile ground for farming and grazing.
Seeing this, the Tunnellers, tired of battling, their lands as torn from war and their people as saddened and weary as the Kingdom's own, raised high the white flag on a staff and sent a messenger of peace unto the Kingdom. The King greeted the leader of the Tunnellers and a truce was made.
The Kingdom would send their farmers and their herders to grow their crops and raise their animals on the other side of the bridge, and the land of the Tunnellers would be recognized as a sovereign territory. In a gesture to end any ill will between their peoples, the King gave the Tunnellers gifts of seed and young animals and apologized for their earlier transgressions.
And so the story comes to a close. The trio were recognized for their skills and intelligence. At a special banquet in their honour, the King called them forth and bestowed upon them a Royal Commendation. In the years to come they played an important role in helping to build up the far side of the bridge and soon it was famous across the land as the Kingdom of the Canyon.
THE FRENCH MINSTREL
But what of the French Minstrel that George and Tomas met so long ago? Why, as it turns out he had spent some years wandering the lands. He came to the Kingdom on his journey home and for a fortnight he stayed near the castle. In the old pub, rebuilt after the war, he sang songs and enjoyed a remarkable new drink made of a mix of brandy and ale.
The bartender called his new drink Humpty Dumpty in honour of the late blacksmith. By strange coincidence, one of the stones he'd kicked from the wall on that fateful night had accidentally broken a large jug of brandy left sitting near an open keg of ale. Later the bartender found it, experimented, and the rest is history.
In his stay at the pub, the French Minstrel learned what had happened to George's father that day he'd met the two boys many years ago. He wrote a short story to honour George and his friend:
Little man borne of little man, waits by himself, cannot swallow
Little man borne of little man, by degree of stammering crazy women
Anal two who knots bears, anal two who leads to the crossroads
Strike from a louse, small book, all watchmen wearing a girdle
Of course, his story sounds a bit different told in French:
Homme petit d'homme petit, s'attend, n'avale
Homme petit d'homme petit, à degrés de bègues folles
Anal deux qui noeuds ours, anal deux qui noeuds s'y mènent
Coup d'un poux tome petit tout guetteur à gaine
Copyright © 2006 Josh Audette. All rights reserved.
References
[1] The classic Mother Goose rhyme "Humpty Dumpty" (of course!)
[2] The Wikipedia article http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humpty_Dumpty, from which we learn of the Ale, and of the bilingual phonetic variation used in software management, no less, "to show the issues involved in crossing over from the oral world typical of implicit knowledge to the written world of explicit knowledge". This inspired much of the story you just read.
Not surprisingly, so did some ale. Me like the loco-juice.
|||115862903918166571|||The Kingdom of the Canyon
9/16/2006 10:35:00 PM|||NormMonkey||| From the musings department:
The Shell of Politeness
Politeness: it's the common ground that allows people with different ideas and personalities to get along with each other. It is a filter that lets through only the safe, politically correct and non-offensive. It's what keeps us from saying "You hare-brained dolt" to that guy on the phone who insists that we should help him fix his broken cup-holder because he's paid for support by holding his credit card against the monitor.
There are times when we cast politeness aside. Friends are people who know who we really are but like us anyways. In the company of friends we feel free to say the dumb things, silly things, stuff that's taboo in polite company. Have you noticed how much more interesting your conversations with friends are after you've sat around the table and had a drink or two?
(this assumes you have a basically good personality. If you're a complete asshole you should probably keep those shields of politeness raised at all times, don't drink anything with alcohol in it, and maybe seek help)
The Trade-off
By being polite we take an almost universally accepted stance but our interactions with people are limited by the shield; we don't get to know who they really are, and vice versa. More importantly, creativity gets stifled and things are generally less interesting.
Think of the most memorable conversations you've had, solutions to problems you've come up with, things you've done with people you really know. All the interesting ones have two things in common: they involved creativity, and they were things you wouldn't have said or done in strictly polite company, weren't they?
Politeness has a more strict subset: formality. At work when I'm talking with clients I start the conversation firmly positioned behind both of these two filters. Sometimes an interesting thing happens, especially with longer conversations: the shield of formality falls. This is important because it really helps to get through the problem more quickly and it lets improvisation and creativity flow more easily.
Breaking Through the Shell
There are times when it's important to let these shields down: working closely with a team, for example, we find we really start to get things done and perform well with each other once everybody really knows one another and doesn't have to worry as much about offending anybody. Silly comments and friendly jibes are welcome and the less people concentrate on being proper, the more ideas flow and we foster an environment fertile for the growth of creativity.
Shy people have unusually strong politeness filters. Something in the shy person's upbringing really drills home the "always be polite" ideal (and I'm willing to bet the "never talk to strangers" ideal sets in well, too). This is really important in relationship-land because relationships are all about getting to know somebody else; moving beyond the shell of politeness is a necessary means to this end.
Notes
I wrote these thoughts down after I came across a passage in a book I was reading: "Fiona sighed. When her father spoke freely, she could sense the man who had told her the stories. When certain subjects were broached, he drew down his veil and became just another ... gentleman. It was irksome." -- Neal Stephenson, "The Diamond Age".
That lead me to think of times at the cottage sitting 'round the living room with friends, fire roaring in the fireplace, beer and wine in hands, and conversation flowing freely and uninhibited. I believe this happens more successfully at the cottage than anywhere else because of how long we're there for. There's enough time to let the shields of politeness fully withdraw.
I guess that it takes some time for this to happen is a sign that I'm one of those shy guys - as if I didn't already know.|||115846067281437735|||The Shell of Politeness
9/12/2006 07:15:00 PM|||NormMonkey||| From the camping-hiking department:
INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE READER: Before you start, know that for a short story, this will be pretty long. Prepare thine eyes and mind, for I allowed mine to wander to a Storyteller's Place as I put thoughts to words.
Oh, yeah - it comes with pictures, too! Anyways, read on, and be prepared for the weirdness that awaits.
Day 1 - Six hours (five driving) for three days and two nights of one hella fun camping trip
Work was busy, so I didn't leave until around 14h00. Considered driving home to restart a basement server shut down by a power failure, but decided that getting to the beer drinking is more important - The Forums will have to wait 'til I get home.
The journey starts off fine. Then I drove into Montreal and the Polar Monkeys had poured a finely proportioned mixture of glue and molasses across the highways such that no car could move faster than 10km/h. Outside of Montreal, an hour later, Rte. 10 was nice and quick. I think I prefer driving to Magog and taking the I-91 south versus I-89 . Vermont was awesome to drive through as usual.
Entering New Hampshire, I drove through a state park where the interstate narrows down to two lanes. Apparently some old man lost his nose around here. Later I pulled off the highway to find gas and went through a place with a sign: "INDIAN HEAD". I never found any decapitated Native Americans but I did see very cool looking resort-ish hotel made of wood and sporting a well-lit outdoor pool. I should like to visit it some day in the company of friends.
Got to the campground where I met my sister, who was not so sauced that she couldn't help me pitch my tent. Then it was to the campfire where I caught up on eating and most importantly, a rather one-sided conversation with my good friend Sam Adams. Met some people I didn't know, caught up with those I did, and so the camping trip really begins, and the evening ends.
The campfire crowd thinned out, while those of us who remained got louder as though to make up the difference for our departed comrades. Especially Rob, a happy drunk whose volume of speech matches his volume of drink.
Day 2 - Seven people go hiking; one comes back spattered in blood (kudos to Tara who thought that line up)
The night is cold. I have two sleeping bags but otherwise no padding, and I am torn between sleeping in one bag atop the other for padding, or sleeping one bag within the other for warmth. The latter wins. We didn't have roosters, so instead babies took on the duty of morning calls. I played the usual weekend game of waking up, turning over and going back to sleep. I wake up when the game gets boring, which is usually after ten turns or so.
A Bag of Home
Then I allowed that one of my arms should venture forth from the sacred comfort of the sleeping bag into the dread cold of morning - to turn on the heater. After a minute or two I crawled out of my warm and cozy nocturnal pouch to dress and pack my bags for The Hike.
I wandered over to The Breakfast Campsite where that indispensible Columbian Beverage of the Morning was to be found, along with delicious muffins and other yummy breakfast-type stuff. Afterwards, discussion ensued as to who among us will brave the towering and daunting Mount Hedgehog of Modest Effort. Seven of us chose this path, while others chose a shorter and less vertically challenging destination - which was probably the more arduous venture what with carrying the young kiddies along.
Our brave troupe piled into Dan's truck for the ride to our starting point. A perfectly innocent mistake by our venerable and benevolent navigator (hey, 113 and 112 are close, OK?) caused us to lose a mere five minutes of looping back - and might I add as a completely neutral and disinterested third party that we would never have had the great conversation and pleasant atmosphere that we had if we'd not taken the extra detour.
The Troupe of Seven
Arriving at the mountain, we began our hike to the summit. Comrade John bewitched us into making the climb with all his talk of the sacred Nine Scenic Views. Not far into the journey, my sister, in the lead with Mae at the time, stopped, for she spotted an antlered beast of the forest! A moose was blocking our path. Well, OK, not *our* path but whatever. Photography ensued, and Comrade John wandered off, apparently trying to make conversation with the four-legged masticator of foliage. Perhaps he was trying to extol upon it the Virtues of the Nine Scenic Views.
One of the Scenic Nine
Then the trail started to get steep. It was at this point that we discovered that Tara is really a mountain lioness in disguise! Before long she was out of sight, leading the pack up the trail. I could not keep up, though I managed to stay ahead of the main pack because I had found a +3 Trusty Stick of Climbocity. We stopped occasionally for a water break, especailly when we had found one of The Scenic Nine.
The Sacred Circular Symbol of the Summit
Before long, we made it to the summit - though not without trials and tribulations, for the convenient yellow marks we'd been following, laid by those who came before, were sometimes not entirely clear. However, we made it to the most sacred yellow mark of all, a cross bound by a circle, a sign that all hikers know means it's time to sit down, have lunch and enjoy the scenery.
Lunch at the Summit
Having had our lunch and conquered Mount Hedgehog, we began our descent down the other side. Once again, Tara the Mountain Lioness took off; though I took the initial lead because her knee was bothering her plus I had the Immortal Surefooted Stick of Balance, she soon flew past and made good her return to lower ground. At some point I stopped to take pictures of a large green caterpillar of the sort that Timon and Pumbaa would drool over.
Great Green Grubs
Having made it to the bottom I met up with Tara. We chatted for awhile, whereupon we met up with a rather strange fellow who we had seen on our way up. Now that I think about it, it's strange that we should beat him to the bottom when we'd passed him well before we reached the summit, since he'd been descending at the time. Maybe he met up with the moose and played a round of five card stud or something. Tara gave up her grapes to the stranger.
It rained a quick shower, which was a welcome cool-off. Just as quickly, it stopped. Tara and I played a game of "See Who Can Get A Pebble To Land On The Boulder On The Other Side Of The Path Such That It Doesn't Bounce Off" - ahh, the classics. By the time our fellow travelers appeared, we tied 1-1.
Suddenly I noticed that something was awry. Ed's shirt sported a cool new design, a pattern of splotches in red! It turns out that as Ed was descending the path, he came across an innocent-looking fallen tree. As he climbed over the tree, it viciously caused him to lose his balance, and as he fell he grappled with the tree and it fought back by stabbing him upside the head with one of its fearsome inanimate branches. Comrade John burst forth in laughter at the sight of this.
Blood spurted forth, but then the wound was staunched and first aid was rendered. The group made onward with their descent, and eventually caught up to the intrepid leaders. We returned to our campsite, stopping along the way for some chunks of frozen water which we used to make cold the beer. Ed was sent to the hospital by Rob, a trained nurse who examined the wound, where he received 8 stitches and met Lightning Girl.
Meanwhile, back at the campsite, just as we'd decided to head to the beach for some swimmin', the skies opened upon us. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled and our heads and shoulders were made to be soaked as we abandoned the beach in search of shelter (and beer). Just as discussions were starting to lean towards going somewhere warm and sheltered for dinner, the skies relented and the weather started clearing up.
This was good, because Chef Luke had prepared some meat by soaking it in savory secret sauces. With the help of oil-soaked wood and well-honed fire-building skills we soon had a hot pit of embers that we decided to introduce to the meat. Well-met, the fire and meat made a delicious entree, with a grill along as chaperone to keep things from getting out of hand.
This, along with other dishes from Chef Luke and others of our group, made for an excellent dinner. We also prepared some fire-baked potatoes, though by the time they were ready we'd all eaten our fill. All was well, though, because those potatoes made an excellent item on the breakfast menu the next morninng.
Once again, dinner was over and the main event, the very heart of camping, began - sitting around the campfire and drinkin' the beers. Apparently some of us who have more advanced skills of comprehension used our +6 Powers of Oddball Conversation to ascend a plane of understanding that left others a little stumped. Imagine a cross between Jedi Mind Powers and the Fremen Weirding Way, and you're close. A dash of Monty Python gets you closer.
Day 3 - Breakfast and Breakup
This night I used my lessons learned and entered my slumber nestled in the two sleeping bags. Lo and behold, it was almost too warm to fall asleep! (I'm like that, I like it colder when I go to sleep and warmer when I wake). The night was fine, and again I played the weekend morning game of roll-over-and-go-back-to-sleep that I cherish dearly before finally crawling out of my nest. I packed up all my stuff and returned it to my car, leaving only the tent which stayed out so that it could dry as much as possible before I packed it.
Then it was off to The Breakfast Campsite again, and this morning there was a feast! Bacon, eggs, fruit, sausages, toast, fried potatoes and more were enjoyed by all, such service as you would not find in the finest hotel in New York. I helped with the frying and eating of various foods, and afterwards enjoyed a cup of hot chocolate as we made with the cleaning up. We all wandered off to our various sites to pack up our tents and such.
Finally, the sad time came when we all said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. I hope that we shall meet again, we intrepid campers and hikers, conquerors of Mount Hedgehog and other mountains of modest effort - although hopefully with less medical care requirements next time, yes?
The weather was beautiful as I drove back. So excellent and sunny, in fact, that I stopped at a Scenic Overlook for a quick nap. I think it was only 10 minutes or so but damn, it felt great. Then back to the Great White North.
It's a beauty way to go.
Epilogue
On getting home, I pitched my tent on the deck in my back yard so that it might dehydrate and air out. I unfurled my sleeping bags in one of my spare bedrooms for the same purpose.
Epilogue: The Backyard Nest
Here is my camping list, while it is fresh in my mind from these recent journeys, and amended with some items I hadn't brought but either wish I did or might need next time:
- A big rubbermaid bin to carry the following livingspace-related items
- * Tent and tarp
* Air mattress or foam pad and pump
* Pillow plus case, and perhaps a plastic vacuum-sealable bag to store it in
* Polyester chair
* Screened dome
* Lantern
* Fuel
* Matches or lighter
- Another bin and cooler to carry the following nourishment-related items
- * BEER!
* Food and drink as necessary (I brought only beer this trip, as the border guards don't take kindly to many foods)
* Camp stove (uses same fuel as lantern)
* Plastic cutlery, cups, and paper plates
* Garbage and recycling bags
- A backpack to carry the following personal items and gadgetry
- * Clothes
* Toiletries kit
* Sweater
* Rain jacket
* Camera
* Book (not that I got the chance to read, we had so much fun)
* GPS for car
* Music for car
|||115810579180289218|||The Saga of White Lake 2006
8/16/2006 11:02:00 AM|||NormMonkey||| From the three of three department:
SOCIAL-LAND
P and M have bought a new house. We had a party, with pizza and beer, for all the people who would have worked hard at moving boxes and crap had P&M not paid somebody to do all the work. Pizza and beer taste better when you didn't pay for them, and infinitely better when you didn't do any work to earn them either.
It was a good party. Lots of chance to catch up with friends I don't see very often. Scoped out the new house. Hopefully nurtured the thought-seed of them getting a hot tub so I don't have to d:) Did I mention their new house is conveniently on my way home from work?
RELATIONSHIP-LAND
Shortly before heading to Vegas, I met a really great girl with whom I really enjoy spending time. Someone whom I can converse with easily. As it turns out, we both agree that there is no "relationship spark" but we both think that this whole easy-conversing-and-getting-along thing is a good sign of friendship.
As it turns out for this particular relationship, I think that is the right way to go, but I have also learned that I really need to explore the land of flirting. This is my big downfall in relationships. I'm a clamshell relationship kinda guy - when I meet someone new, I tend to open up slowly. All of my good relationships have been on a friends-first, relationship later basis. There have been a bunch of bad ones which were relationships right from the start, and I think that all of this past experience is not helping.
Well, that's what the future is for. Practice makes perfect, I guess.|||115574061716798332|||2 for 1 in 3 of 3
8/16/2006 10:59:00 AM|||NormMonkey||| From the two-of-three department:
My sister has managed to make a house-buying decision approximately five years earlier than anybody expected (for those of you not playing along at home, my sister never does anything quickly, or on time. This trait comes into play later in this story. Now you have something to look for so you won't fall asleep!) and so she is now in the process of closing the deal. Boy, that was a long run-on sentence. Thank goodness this blog is not about teh good righting and spu-helling and Graham R.
Right. So. Anyways, she had some stuff in storage here in Ottawa, so the time came when she needed to move the stuff out. Naturally I got involved in helping out. My mistake was to ask a friend to help me. Here's how the story goes:
Prologue
I email back and forth between my sister and my friend to arrange times. They are coming from Montreal to pick up their rent-a-truck in Ottawa, load it and drive back to Boston. We are supposed to meet at the storage place at 13h00 on Sunday. She will call me from the truck rental place.
Chapter 1
P and I are at his house doing some work. The time approaches when I should think about starting to maybe be ready to head out to the storage place. Then I notice that I don't have my cell phone with me. Suddenly the time is past when I need to be at home getting my cellphone, so we rush back there. Fortunately, my sister is never early in anything and there are no missed calls.
We stop for lunch. Then we head out to the storage place. It is a little bit after 13h00, but no calls.
Chapter 10
We get to the storage place. We head over to the locker. We unpack everything so that loading it will be nice and quick. We had previously stopped by to scope out the locker, but with everything unpacked, it looks like more than would easily fit in the truck. Mental note: when sister calls from truck rental place, suggest getting a larger size.
All the stuff is unpacked now. It's probably 13h45 or so. Conveniently enough, there is a couch here with cushions and footstools nearby. We sit down and chat. Time passes.
It is now 14h30 or so. We decide that at 15h00 we will just pack everything back up and leave. Clearly there is something wrong. At this point, we have gotten so bored that P has been reading spam out loud from his blackberry and I have escaped this torture with my DAP and a game of tetrox. We continue to chat about stuff. A suggestion is made that they owe us a case of beer for making us wait.
At 14h55, the phone rings. Sister has gotten the truck. I note that I suggested she call *when she arrives* at the rental place, not just as she leaves, and suggest that a larger truck size would be better. We arrange for them to honk at us from the storage place's gate so we know to get off our (their) couch and let 'em in.
Chapter 11
Sometime around 15h30, sister shows up with nice big truck. We pack all the stuff inside with room to spare. Better too much room than not enough, eh? They decide to treat us to dinner, which is nice. P tries to call home to see if he needs to get home right away or if the current plan fits, but can't get through, so we go to have dinner. The catch-phrase of the day, which would also be a great band name, is "Oxygen Problems in the Brain".
Epilogue
I drop P back home. As we walk in the house, the temperature drops rapidly. The family is in the kitchen, where the frosty feeling just gets worse. M has had the kids all day and expected P would be back a lot earlier. Doh. I should not have involved my friends in sister's time-warp-delays.|||115574053076249323|||Sister-land
8/16/2006 10:58:00 AM|||NormMonkey||| From the one-of-three department:
Well, it has been a month so of course I have gotten my hands on some new gadgets. The latest gadget acquisition is a new MP3 player. I got an iRiver H320. You can't buy these in stores anymore, so I had to go to this really large mall in cyberland called eBay.
What is this "MP3 player" of which I speak? It is one of a few platforms on which runs Rockbox, the greatest firmware for digital audio players ever. It plays many different digital audio formats (except those stupid DRM'd ones). It has a remote control which will fit nicely in my car. It has a colour screen which is good for viewing pictures. It has lots o' RAM so it can last longer on battery and tell me about what song plays next and stuff. It plays games. It slices. It dices. Finally, it has an FM radio which is really why I got it. I go on binges where I listen to MP3s, and I go on other binges where I listen to radio. So it's nice to have one player that keeps me happy.
Until it's time to get another one, of course, I mean hell, this model is ALREADY obsolete.
Twenty-two salesmonkeys who walk the floor at Best Buy felt me write that sentence and twitched a little with anticipation.|||115574035057331656|||Gadget-land
8/16/2006 10:56:00 AM|||NormMonkey||| From the not-all-good-things-come-in-threes department:
Words. Like flowers, they need to be collected and pressed onto pages of books. And blogs.
Then again my lawn needs to be mowed and it's not like I've done that either, so get off my freakin' case AZROLB!
*whooosah*
OK. So last time I wrote stuff here was after I came back from Vegas and Chicago O'Hare airport made me its bitch. Since then it's been almost a month of update-free, same old blog page not refreshing, day after day. Time for some updatin'.
Even better, because I tend to write in much the same way that spam fills your inbox (i.e. lots of meaningless blabbering), I think I will make a trio of posts rather than one big one. This might also confuse people into believing that I have updated more regularly, unless they notice the dates on the posts. Or read this message.
Doh.|||115574026105544607|||A trio of posts
