So today I had a meeting with the General and the news was pretty good. To sum things up, I am heading to Winnipeg in October for Achmed’s execution… it will be a date that I am sure will cause me reflection on life for a long time to come.
I don’t know if any of you know Dr. Tony Batten, but if you do I would imagine that your assessment of his personality will probably concur with mine… that man is so cool that I am sure he pisses ice cubes! I mean cool in an absolutely laid back and relaxed way, not in a Fonzy way. I am not sure what type of personality I expected from a brain surgeon but I am guessing that it is probably a good thing that he is not a high-strung individual.
To sum up the events of today, Achmed is definitely benign and is an Acoustic Neroma, and as the General said, "If you are going to have a brain tumor, this is the best one to pick." Because of the size of Achmed and the age of the patient (that’s me) the marines are going to get me up to Winnipeg ASAP, which amounts to about six weeks. Achmed has seen some growth, from 2.5 cm to 2.6 cm in a three month period. That doesn’t sound like very much, a millimetre is about the thickness of a dime, but when you figure that this tumor normally grows at that rate in a twelve month period, it sounds a little aggressive to me. That could explain all of the headaches and jaw pain of the past month or so. I am no math expert, but to put that in layman’s terms, that rate of growth would be similar to an average size man gaining a pound a week for a year… imagine putting on an extra FIFTY pounds between two Christmases!
I get to spend a week in Winnipeg getting the Gamma Knife Radio-surgery, then I get to come home for all of my follow-up… an MRI at 3 months, 6 months and 12 months, then every year for the rest of my life. Actually, the General said for at least for ten years and then chuckled. I asked him,”So will you know for sure it has stopped growing by then?” He said, “Well… we will see…” and changed the subject. I go the impression that because this is generally considered an ‘old-person’s tumor’ that not a lot of patients have a life expectancy beyond ten years anyway.
The long term effects, after the gamma knife side-effects are worn off, “Possibly could be” continued loss of hearing and eventual loss of balance. That is not really a solid comfort to me, however the alternative is to either not treat it and eventually it will cause these things anyway and kill me, or to go through the skull-cracking surgery and definitely get these side effects right away. It seems like a no-brainer (pardon the pun)… I have always been one to delay problems as long as I can anyway.
On the bright side, unless I have a seizure, I won’t be losing my license; within a week of being back home, I should be able to resume my life and just limit how far I push myself based on how I am feeling; and a year from D-Day (once the side effects of the gamma knife have completely worn off) I may be able to get a hearing aid to help with the hearing loss on my right side.
I was actually planning on buying a new guitar for myself when this was all over, an Epiphone Dot Studio with a worn cherry finish, kind of as a welcome to your new life gift to myself, but I am thinking that this cash may be better spent on a hearing aid and possibly a vacation on a beach somewhere to finally relax. I will still have 40 years left to buy that guitar anyway:)
So now that the General has confirmed my diagnosis and planned the attack, tomorrow I start the boat-load of paperwork to get things moving.
I would like to thank everyone who has called, e-mailed and texted me their good wishes over the past few days, I am sure that every bit of positive thinking has helped.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Achmed’s Verdict… jury still in deliberation
In approximately 72 hours from now I am going to know what the deal is with this little buddy in my head.
Monday Afternoon I am meeting with General Batten to get what I hope is a confirmation of my diagnosis along with a tentative plan for the execution of Achmed. Lately the headaches and fatigue have been more frequent and worse and the burning sensation in my jaw has come close to bringing me to tears on a few occasions.
I had every intention of enjoying this summer and if that meant burning the candle at both ends to make sure I could fit everything in, that was fine with me. I still go to the gym 4 or 5 times a week, but high-intensity workouts are wearing me out now. Concentrating at work has become difficult simply because if I don’t have a headache at the moment, I am usually tired from having a headache not all that long ago.
Sleeping has become a bit of a challenge at times. I generally sleep on my side, and when I lie on my right it seems to aggravate Achmed, which causes me to lie on my left. The only problem with that is that it leaves me effectively deaf. My good ear is smothered in a pillow and my almost deaf ear is exposed to any noise in the room… for example, an alarm clock! I have done my best not to schedule 9:00 AM meetings lately.
My preference for treatment is still Gamma Knife Surgery and I haven’t been given any indication that I am not a candidate for it, so I am counting on it as my ‘cure’. The success rate of the Gamma Knife is extremely high and the success rate of General Batten with the Gamma Knife is 100%. This makes me both happy and anxious at the same time. In the back of my mind I keep thinking that he is due for a failed attempt! I am counting on being wrong here; the General says that his understanding is that this tumor is pretty hard to remove after it has been radiated. HIS UNDERSTANDING? In fairness to him, he also said that these little Achmeds are hard to "peel out anyway"... yet another reason to hope Achmed is not too big to be zapped.
Another thing that has been bothering me lately is the discovery that I may lose my license for six months. I had no idea this was even a possibility until a few days ago. I mean, I knew I was going to be putting the motorbike away early this fall and I knew I was not going to be driving for a few weeks after the radio-surgery, but I was pretty convinced that within 2 or 3 weeks of the nuclear blast to my grey matter, I was going to be living life as normally as I was before all this was discovered. It seems that a positive attitude may have partially clouded my judgement… well, looks like I may have had a summer of blissful ignorance in a few areas…lol.
I will be taking applications for chauffer duties over the next few weeks.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Monday Afternoon I am meeting with General Batten to get what I hope is a confirmation of my diagnosis along with a tentative plan for the execution of Achmed. Lately the headaches and fatigue have been more frequent and worse and the burning sensation in my jaw has come close to bringing me to tears on a few occasions.
I had every intention of enjoying this summer and if that meant burning the candle at both ends to make sure I could fit everything in, that was fine with me. I still go to the gym 4 or 5 times a week, but high-intensity workouts are wearing me out now. Concentrating at work has become difficult simply because if I don’t have a headache at the moment, I am usually tired from having a headache not all that long ago.
Sleeping has become a bit of a challenge at times. I generally sleep on my side, and when I lie on my right it seems to aggravate Achmed, which causes me to lie on my left. The only problem with that is that it leaves me effectively deaf. My good ear is smothered in a pillow and my almost deaf ear is exposed to any noise in the room… for example, an alarm clock! I have done my best not to schedule 9:00 AM meetings lately.
My preference for treatment is still Gamma Knife Surgery and I haven’t been given any indication that I am not a candidate for it, so I am counting on it as my ‘cure’. The success rate of the Gamma Knife is extremely high and the success rate of General Batten with the Gamma Knife is 100%. This makes me both happy and anxious at the same time. In the back of my mind I keep thinking that he is due for a failed attempt! I am counting on being wrong here; the General says that his understanding is that this tumor is pretty hard to remove after it has been radiated. HIS UNDERSTANDING? In fairness to him, he also said that these little Achmeds are hard to "peel out anyway"... yet another reason to hope Achmed is not too big to be zapped.
Another thing that has been bothering me lately is the discovery that I may lose my license for six months. I had no idea this was even a possibility until a few days ago. I mean, I knew I was going to be putting the motorbike away early this fall and I knew I was not going to be driving for a few weeks after the radio-surgery, but I was pretty convinced that within 2 or 3 weeks of the nuclear blast to my grey matter, I was going to be living life as normally as I was before all this was discovered. It seems that a positive attitude may have partially clouded my judgement… well, looks like I may have had a summer of blissful ignorance in a few areas…lol.
I will be taking applications for chauffer duties over the next few weeks.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
4 Guys and a Rock ‘n’ Roll Band – Part 5: The Stagette Party and The Rain Storm
Eventually everyone stopped laughing at me long enough to eat their food and the money waiter came over and gave us a bill. Who ever would have thought that a few burgers and a club sandwich would have cost that much in a pub… it is possible, however, that we drank more than a pitcher or two at that seating!
The five of us (Jamie had somehow decided that we were not too rude to hang with after dinner for a while) went into the bar. If you have never been to The Lower Deck, let me briefly describe it for you. It is dark, it has a low ceiling and it is cramped and full of picnic tables… that’s it. I sometimes wonder, during moments of sobriety, why it is that I love that place so much… it must be the good service or the live music… Anyway, we went in and ordered, and no, it was not a couple of pitchers! At The Lower Deck the beer waiters cruise around all night with trays of draft that you can just take and pay for… that is correct, NO LINE UPS! Ahhh yes, that is why I love that place. The beer waiter really got used to seeing us that night.
As we were all sitting at an indoor picnic table, Todd notices a girl sitting on front of us, (well, bent might be a better term) with the top 3 inches of her thong exposed. He pointed and smiled… I pointed (with the camera) and snapped. As I mentioned in an earlier post, Halifax is a great city for asses:) After this completely juvenile stunt, Jamie says, “Let’s go outside and see Signal Hill play.” There were two things wrong with this statement: first we didn’t see anywhere to see a band outside so we all figured Jamie was trying to get us out of there before someone recognized him; secondly, Signal Hill was from Newfoundland, and we didn’t do all this travelling and put 4 guys in one hotel room just to see a pub band from home!
Well, apparently there was a second outdoor venue on the other side of the bar, one which only the locals knew about it seems. When we got there we could have given Jamie a collective kiss or hug maybe, or more likely a ‘good job’ slap on the back… we didn’t, but we were happy…. we bought him a beer instead. Here was a big portable stage in a courtyard full of party animals and fraternity brothers and sisters… we fit right in!
As if 4 guys from Newfoundland rocking out to a Newfoundland band playing KISS cover tunes wasn’t enough, in struts a Staggette party… all wearing matching tight, white t-shirts. This didn’t really become all that important until later when it started to rain…the irony of me being an ass man was not lost on me at this point. The 4 Guys are not particularly known for their shyness, so within about 20 minutes we knew the entire party and convinced them to stop bar hopping and spend the rest of the night at The Lower Deck with us… they did. At some point in time, markers got broken out and everyone was signing everyone else’s t-shirt. Carol (mother of the bride and watchful guardian of frat boys) kept a close eye on all the men lined up to sign the shirts. I have to say, for a lady in her 50’s, Carol was in fine form, and friendly. I asked her how long she had been divorced, she replied, “What makes you think I am divorced?” I told her, “No one of your vintage is in that kind of shape unless they are looking for a new man.” She smiled and slapped my butt. Either I was right or she was a very big tease.
Eventually, for the first time that night, the beer waiter was no where to be found. Matt and I decided to head inside and hit the bar while checking out the other band. Getting a spot to hang at the actual bar proved surprisingly easy, I guess most people figure, ‘why go to a bar when the bar comes to you so regularly?’ Seems that we were impatient.
So, I slide up to the bar, next to this lady with a huge belly laugh, a great sense of humour and a friendly smile. Sexually appealing she was not, but she was nice. She started chatting with me in a overly friendly type of way, if you know what I mean… I had thoughts going through my head of, “How do I get out of here without being rude?” I smiled and turned away to order a beer… that is when I felt this hand grab my ass. I clenched up my butt checks, stood up straight and turned around… she was looking the other way and everyone else around me was a man. For a second I really thought I was imagining things. I turned around again… the same thing happened and she was still turned the other way. I asked Matt if he saw that, he looked at me and said, “What are you talking about?”
I said, “Someone grabbed my ass man, did you see it?”
“Ah, noooooo, just get the beer.”
So I turned around again, and again a hand grabbed my ass. This time when I turned around she was looking at me with a big smile on her face. All I could think was, “Oh God, what have I done to deserve getting cornered by this woman and why is Matt walking away to leave me here?” So, I asked her, with every bit of playful charm (in a stupid boy way, not a flirty way) I could manage to come up with, “Did you do that?”
I don’t think she heard me because she said, “Kevin, I want to introduce you to my friend Lisa.” Well… Lisa looked like she was beautiful, however, I was suffering from impaired judgement from hanging out in the sun all day and consuming continual quantaties of beer and didn’t trust the situation I seemed to be getting into. You know how people always look different the next time after you have met them in a bar... well, I was so sure that this would be one of those times. She never made it easy for me to behave though. After we chatted for a while and she knew I was from out of town and just here for the weekend and she told me that she had recently broken up with her boyfriend of two years, she put her hand on my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek. It was at that instant that I saw Matt rolling his eyes and pointing to the beer I was still holding in my hand... it seems that this pretty little thing had distracted me from my intended purpose of being at the bar in the first place.
The five of us (Jamie had somehow decided that we were not too rude to hang with after dinner for a while) went into the bar. If you have never been to The Lower Deck, let me briefly describe it for you. It is dark, it has a low ceiling and it is cramped and full of picnic tables… that’s it. I sometimes wonder, during moments of sobriety, why it is that I love that place so much… it must be the good service or the live music… Anyway, we went in and ordered, and no, it was not a couple of pitchers! At The Lower Deck the beer waiters cruise around all night with trays of draft that you can just take and pay for… that is correct, NO LINE UPS! Ahhh yes, that is why I love that place. The beer waiter really got used to seeing us that night.
As we were all sitting at an indoor picnic table, Todd notices a girl sitting on front of us, (well, bent might be a better term) with the top 3 inches of her thong exposed. He pointed and smiled… I pointed (with the camera) and snapped. As I mentioned in an earlier post, Halifax is a great city for asses:) After this completely juvenile stunt, Jamie says, “Let’s go outside and see Signal Hill play.” There were two things wrong with this statement: first we didn’t see anywhere to see a band outside so we all figured Jamie was trying to get us out of there before someone recognized him; secondly, Signal Hill was from Newfoundland, and we didn’t do all this travelling and put 4 guys in one hotel room just to see a pub band from home!
Well, apparently there was a second outdoor venue on the other side of the bar, one which only the locals knew about it seems. When we got there we could have given Jamie a collective kiss or hug maybe, or more likely a ‘good job’ slap on the back… we didn’t, but we were happy…. we bought him a beer instead. Here was a big portable stage in a courtyard full of party animals and fraternity brothers and sisters… we fit right in!
As if 4 guys from Newfoundland rocking out to a Newfoundland band playing KISS cover tunes wasn’t enough, in struts a Staggette party… all wearing matching tight, white t-shirts. This didn’t really become all that important until later when it started to rain…the irony of me being an ass man was not lost on me at this point. The 4 Guys are not particularly known for their shyness, so within about 20 minutes we knew the entire party and convinced them to stop bar hopping and spend the rest of the night at The Lower Deck with us… they did. At some point in time, markers got broken out and everyone was signing everyone else’s t-shirt. Carol (mother of the bride and watchful guardian of frat boys) kept a close eye on all the men lined up to sign the shirts. I have to say, for a lady in her 50’s, Carol was in fine form, and friendly. I asked her how long she had been divorced, she replied, “What makes you think I am divorced?” I told her, “No one of your vintage is in that kind of shape unless they are looking for a new man.” She smiled and slapped my butt. Either I was right or she was a very big tease.
Eventually, for the first time that night, the beer waiter was no where to be found. Matt and I decided to head inside and hit the bar while checking out the other band. Getting a spot to hang at the actual bar proved surprisingly easy, I guess most people figure, ‘why go to a bar when the bar comes to you so regularly?’ Seems that we were impatient.
So, I slide up to the bar, next to this lady with a huge belly laugh, a great sense of humour and a friendly smile. Sexually appealing she was not, but she was nice. She started chatting with me in a overly friendly type of way, if you know what I mean… I had thoughts going through my head of, “How do I get out of here without being rude?” I smiled and turned away to order a beer… that is when I felt this hand grab my ass. I clenched up my butt checks, stood up straight and turned around… she was looking the other way and everyone else around me was a man. For a second I really thought I was imagining things. I turned around again… the same thing happened and she was still turned the other way. I asked Matt if he saw that, he looked at me and said, “What are you talking about?”
I said, “Someone grabbed my ass man, did you see it?”
“Ah, noooooo, just get the beer.”
So I turned around again, and again a hand grabbed my ass. This time when I turned around she was looking at me with a big smile on her face. All I could think was, “Oh God, what have I done to deserve getting cornered by this woman and why is Matt walking away to leave me here?” So, I asked her, with every bit of playful charm (in a stupid boy way, not a flirty way) I could manage to come up with, “Did you do that?”
I don’t think she heard me because she said, “Kevin, I want to introduce you to my friend Lisa.” Well… Lisa looked like she was beautiful, however, I was suffering from impaired judgement from hanging out in the sun all day and consuming continual quantaties of beer and didn’t trust the situation I seemed to be getting into. You know how people always look different the next time after you have met them in a bar... well, I was so sure that this would be one of those times. She never made it easy for me to behave though. After we chatted for a while and she knew I was from out of town and just here for the weekend and she told me that she had recently broken up with her boyfriend of two years, she put her hand on my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek. It was at that instant that I saw Matt rolling his eyes and pointing to the beer I was still holding in my hand... it seems that this pretty little thing had distracted me from my intended purpose of being at the bar in the first place.
Lisa was not at all sober, and I had bought her a beer, seeing how she was being so nice. I decided that she didn't really need it and I was going to get myself out of this situation and head back to the outside band. Taking the beer out of her hand and kissing her on the cheek, I walked away and said to her, "You really don't need anything else to drink; maybe you should get your friend to take you home." She glared at me... glared at me in a way that your girlfriend / wife / mother glares at you when you have really screwed up and there is very little chance of redemption in the immediate future. That image burned into my retinas and in not all that many hours in the future, I was going to get an even better look at it. Ahh yes, frat boys really are all about being classy!
Matt and me headed outside to the “concert” and rejoined the staggette party. Things were pretty rowdy on the dance floor and Signal Hill was wailing on the KISS tunes. (For those of you who don’t know, Signal Hill is an acoustic band, but it was KISS weekend in Halifax and they did a pretty good job). Everyone was high-fiving and ‘Letting it Roll’ and suddenly the skies opened up and a thundering rain storm pelted down on all of us.
Now, it has been my experience that when it starts to rain, most people head for cover. Obviously that was not going to work here because everybody was having way too much fun… particularly the 4 Guys and it seems that somehow we became the centre of the party in front of the stage. It was like a rock video! Girls jumping around in their wet t-shirt flinging their wet hair all over the place… guys striping down to the waist screaming at the top of their lungs… everyone signing everyone else’s body with sharpie markers.
Half-an-hour later, the band ended and so did the rain… almost like it was planned… and everyone started to go home. The guys hung out with the Staggette ladies until their limo showed up. We all got invited to the wedding the next day but we had to pass seeing how we had an appointment with the “Greatest Band in The World”.
The cool breeze in the night air started to get a bit chilly through the water-soaked t-shirts as we headed back to the hotel. Jason was the only one who actually made I to the hotel at that time though. Todd hooked up with a couple of buddies from home who were there to see KISS also, and me and Matt hit Pizza Corner where we witnessed a guy too stupid to know he was being hit on by a pair of girls who were looking for a night of excitement for three.
And this only brings us half way through the trip and the concert hasn’t even started yet.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Matt and me headed outside to the “concert” and rejoined the staggette party. Things were pretty rowdy on the dance floor and Signal Hill was wailing on the KISS tunes. (For those of you who don’t know, Signal Hill is an acoustic band, but it was KISS weekend in Halifax and they did a pretty good job). Everyone was high-fiving and ‘Letting it Roll’ and suddenly the skies opened up and a thundering rain storm pelted down on all of us.
Now, it has been my experience that when it starts to rain, most people head for cover. Obviously that was not going to work here because everybody was having way too much fun… particularly the 4 Guys and it seems that somehow we became the centre of the party in front of the stage. It was like a rock video! Girls jumping around in their wet t-shirt flinging their wet hair all over the place… guys striping down to the waist screaming at the top of their lungs… everyone signing everyone else’s body with sharpie markers.
Half-an-hour later, the band ended and so did the rain… almost like it was planned… and everyone started to go home. The guys hung out with the Staggette ladies until their limo showed up. We all got invited to the wedding the next day but we had to pass seeing how we had an appointment with the “Greatest Band in The World”.
The cool breeze in the night air started to get a bit chilly through the water-soaked t-shirts as we headed back to the hotel. Jason was the only one who actually made I to the hotel at that time though. Todd hooked up with a couple of buddies from home who were there to see KISS also, and me and Matt hit Pizza Corner where we witnessed a guy too stupid to know he was being hit on by a pair of girls who were looking for a night of excitement for three.
And this only brings us half way through the trip and the concert hasn’t even started yet.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Just In Case a Tumor is Not Enough
I am rarely at a loss for words, in fact there are many times when I rant on about a subject that I am interested in for far longer that I probably should. Today was not one of those times.
As I was on my way back to the office from a social lunch (which in itself is a bit of a rarity for me) my phone rang, it was Dad. Dad doesn’t call me in the middle of the day very often, unless he needs my help with something or has some kind of question related to the business world.
I should have been tipped off by the fact that he said he would call me back later when I told him I was driving; Dad is not one to deliver shocking news unless he knows you are already sitting down. We had a brief discussion and he told me that a guy I grew up with was shot and killed in the line of duty with the Tampa Police Department.
Cpl. Mike Roberts was one of dozens of guys that hung out in my general group of friends while I learning about the world and I remember that he had a great sense of humour. I haven’t seen him since University and interestingly enough, not all that long ago I wondered what ever happened to him and his brother, I heard that they had moved back to Florida, but I never stayed in touch with either one of them.
Mike was shot in the chest last night, by a suspect on what seemingly was a routine inquiry. He had a wife and a three-year-old son and had only been promoted to Corporal last month and was on track to become a Detective. By all accounts he was a happy family man who still played hockey and had a successful career. A lot of people would probably say he was living the dream.
To say I was speechless because I was in mourning would probably not really be accurate. I was shocked that a life of someone in their prime could so easily be snuffed out for an arbitrary reason. (By the way, there is a suspect in custody and two eye witnesses of the account). The fact that I knew him just seemed to drive it home a little further.
I have spent the last 3 days complaining of a headache that is keeping me awake and making it hard to concentrate on work, or anything else. I guess I was speechless because I was really being so petty in my problems and realizing that having a brain tumour is not the end of the world... not compared to a bullet anyway.
RIP Mike... and the rest of us, remember to enjoy life and don't sweat the small stuff.
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
As I was on my way back to the office from a social lunch (which in itself is a bit of a rarity for me) my phone rang, it was Dad. Dad doesn’t call me in the middle of the day very often, unless he needs my help with something or has some kind of question related to the business world.
I should have been tipped off by the fact that he said he would call me back later when I told him I was driving; Dad is not one to deliver shocking news unless he knows you are already sitting down. We had a brief discussion and he told me that a guy I grew up with was shot and killed in the line of duty with the Tampa Police Department.
Cpl. Mike Roberts was one of dozens of guys that hung out in my general group of friends while I learning about the world and I remember that he had a great sense of humour. I haven’t seen him since University and interestingly enough, not all that long ago I wondered what ever happened to him and his brother, I heard that they had moved back to Florida, but I never stayed in touch with either one of them.
Mike was shot in the chest last night, by a suspect on what seemingly was a routine inquiry. He had a wife and a three-year-old son and had only been promoted to Corporal last month and was on track to become a Detective. By all accounts he was a happy family man who still played hockey and had a successful career. A lot of people would probably say he was living the dream.
To say I was speechless because I was in mourning would probably not really be accurate. I was shocked that a life of someone in their prime could so easily be snuffed out for an arbitrary reason. (By the way, there is a suspect in custody and two eye witnesses of the account). The fact that I knew him just seemed to drive it home a little further.
I have spent the last 3 days complaining of a headache that is keeping me awake and making it hard to concentrate on work, or anything else. I guess I was speechless because I was really being so petty in my problems and realizing that having a brain tumour is not the end of the world... not compared to a bullet anyway.
RIP Mike... and the rest of us, remember to enjoy life and don't sweat the small stuff.
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Introductions With a Brain Tumor
I have been going to Halifax with a bit of semi-regularity over the years. I used to live there, my ex-wife is from there and my head office is there, so I have probably visited Halifax more than any other city, although I haven’t kept count.
This past trip to my favourite pub-strip in the country was much more low-key than the one with the 4 guys. It’s a good thing too, because I don’t think I could do a trip like that with any kind of regularity… I can’t even get the whole story told in any kind of decent time frame, although I blame that on the good weather.
Last week I was in Halifax for work, so right off the bat I wasn’t on vacation and living in a single hotel room with 4 wanna-be-frat-boys. This work trip I did something a little different, something that I think I am going to make a habit out of… I stayed over for the weekend and visit some family and friends. And though Halifax has had a crappy summer for weather, every time I go it seems to be the best days that they have had in weeks! (If anyone is interested I will be renting myself out to weddings and special occasions to insure sunshine:)
So, when work was done, I went out with my cousin, Colleen. She is 8 days younger than I am and we have always been sort of close, even though we have hardly ever really spent a lot of time together… that kind of happens when you live in different provinces for most of your life. Well, Colleen has a bit of a twisted sense of humour… and she is a social butterfly… that can make for a really interesting situation when you are hanging out with her in her hometown and happen to have a brain tumor!
One night we went to Durty Nellie’s… or Filthy Nancy’s if you can’t remember pub names. There I got introduced to everyone that she knew, including a little Greek guy whose name I forget. Her standard introduction was, “Hi so-and-so, this is my cousin Kevin, (3-second pause… just long enough to shake hands and start to speak) he has a brain tumor.”
Most people are sympathetic, inquisitive, or just change the topic… it is actually a kind of twisted but cool experiment on human interaction. Anyway, the Greek guy… well, he literally let go of my hand, stepped back and looked at Colleen and said, “I wish I didn’t know that.” I looked at him and smiled, “It’s OK man, it’s not contagious.”
It was kind of funny really… good thing I am not sensitive!
On that same night we also hit the Lower Deck, my favourite pub in town, so a visit there is extremely important. I ran into Katey… yes, the same Katey from the 4-guys trip. I saw her and she was busy so I didn’t want to bother her. Well, I was with Colleen, so the fact that I didn’t want to bother her was irrelevant. She ran into Katey and told her that she was here with her cousin and that he (I) was in town a few weeks ago for the KISS concert with a few of his (my) buddies, and that he (I) writes a blog and she was in it. After this little tale, she had to meet me... she came over, tapped me on the arm. I looked up and smiled, and then she said, “You yelled at me.” (I am starting to think that it is possible that I may never live that moment in time down.)
I apologized again and tried to explain that I was yelling at the menu, not at her and for that matter, I really didn’t mean to yell at all. Anyway we chatted for a minute and I wrote down the blog address so she could look up.
Katey, if you are reading this, once again I apologize:)
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
This past trip to my favourite pub-strip in the country was much more low-key than the one with the 4 guys. It’s a good thing too, because I don’t think I could do a trip like that with any kind of regularity… I can’t even get the whole story told in any kind of decent time frame, although I blame that on the good weather.
Last week I was in Halifax for work, so right off the bat I wasn’t on vacation and living in a single hotel room with 4 wanna-be-frat-boys. This work trip I did something a little different, something that I think I am going to make a habit out of… I stayed over for the weekend and visit some family and friends. And though Halifax has had a crappy summer for weather, every time I go it seems to be the best days that they have had in weeks! (If anyone is interested I will be renting myself out to weddings and special occasions to insure sunshine:)
So, when work was done, I went out with my cousin, Colleen. She is 8 days younger than I am and we have always been sort of close, even though we have hardly ever really spent a lot of time together… that kind of happens when you live in different provinces for most of your life. Well, Colleen has a bit of a twisted sense of humour… and she is a social butterfly… that can make for a really interesting situation when you are hanging out with her in her hometown and happen to have a brain tumor!
One night we went to Durty Nellie’s… or Filthy Nancy’s if you can’t remember pub names. There I got introduced to everyone that she knew, including a little Greek guy whose name I forget. Her standard introduction was, “Hi so-and-so, this is my cousin Kevin, (3-second pause… just long enough to shake hands and start to speak) he has a brain tumor.”
Most people are sympathetic, inquisitive, or just change the topic… it is actually a kind of twisted but cool experiment on human interaction. Anyway, the Greek guy… well, he literally let go of my hand, stepped back and looked at Colleen and said, “I wish I didn’t know that.” I looked at him and smiled, “It’s OK man, it’s not contagious.”
It was kind of funny really… good thing I am not sensitive!
On that same night we also hit the Lower Deck, my favourite pub in town, so a visit there is extremely important. I ran into Katey… yes, the same Katey from the 4-guys trip. I saw her and she was busy so I didn’t want to bother her. Well, I was with Colleen, so the fact that I didn’t want to bother her was irrelevant. She ran into Katey and told her that she was here with her cousin and that he (I) was in town a few weeks ago for the KISS concert with a few of his (my) buddies, and that he (I) writes a blog and she was in it. After this little tale, she had to meet me... she came over, tapped me on the arm. I looked up and smiled, and then she said, “You yelled at me.” (I am starting to think that it is possible that I may never live that moment in time down.)
I apologized again and tried to explain that I was yelling at the menu, not at her and for that matter, I really didn’t mean to yell at all. Anyway we chatted for a minute and I wrote down the blog address so she could look up.
Katey, if you are reading this, once again I apologize:)
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
4 Guys and a Rock ‘n’ Roll Band – Part 4: Foccacia Bread and No Yelling
I know it has been a while… but I am delayed at the airport so I figured it was a good time to try to squeeze in another chapter.
As we were getting ready to leave the jazz festival the Master of Ceremonies for the day started talking about the 4 guys... yes, somehow three of us had done interviews with some dude while we were hanging around and waiting for Matt to meet up with us. Through all of the confusion of bad beer, getting the dog drunk, using the wrong toilet and finding out we were allowed to order booze instead of beer, we kind of forgot what we had told the guy.
PA announcer: “I’d like to welcome Jason, Todd and Kevin... blah, blah, blah... they work with ... blah, blah, blah... and they hate the beer and love the music. They are also on a quest of women of impaired judgement...” (we hated the music! By the time he was interviewing us the band sounded like the soundtrack from Borat!)
Matt sat there listening to the PA system and said: “That’s funny, there are a bunch of guys here from Newfoundland with the same first names and the same last names as you guys, just not combined. They even have the same kind of jobs as you guys...”
Jason: “Oh yeah, some guy interviewed us about the jazz festival.”
Matt: “And you used fake names?”
Jason: “Yes, sort of.”
Matt: “But you used your real jobs?”
Todd: “It just kind of happened.”
Kevin: “Yeah, we should have been spies or something.”
Matt: “I don’t think that you need to worry about women of ‘impaired judgement’ racing over to meet you...”
Kevin: “Well, not when the MC makes us sound so boring.”
Jason: “Let it roll!”
Kevin, Todd, Matt: “Let it roll.”
Then we rolled right on out of the beer tent towards the harbour.
By the time we all rolled up to the Lower Deck, the Halifax nightlife had already kicked into full throttle. One of the great things about the entertainment industry in Halifax is that people go out early and make a night of it. One of the crappy things about the entertainment industry in Halifax is that people go out early and make a night of it. It was only 6:00 and finding a table was a complete fluke because the place was already packed and the first band was already playing.
We were meeting a buddy of mine from the old neighbourhood, Jamie, who lived in Halifax now, although we could only find a table for four, we managed. By the time we ordered our two pitchers to start, we were all starving. Living on pub food for 4 days leaves an empty feeling in your stomach by the time it is mealtime again. Our poor waitress’s name was Katey, she was cute, she had a great sense of humour and above all she was patient and appreciated our quest for enjoyment.
I don’t have any idea what Jamie and the other 3 guys ordered for dinner, but I know I had a club sandwich and the only reason I know this for a fact is because club sandwiches at the Lower Deck come on Foccacia Bread. Anyone who has ever travelled with me will tell you, when in doubt about what I will order at a pub, put your money on a club sandwich and you will most likely win that bet.
So as we all ordered food, I asked for my club sandwich on whole-wheat bread. You would think that that is not an outrageous request… well, let me tell you my friends, you would be wrong!
Katey: “The Club Sandwich comes on Foccacia bread, which is a type of bread…”
Kevin: in a loud enough tone to basically drown out all of the surrounding tables, “I KNOW WHAT FOCCACIA BREAD IS!” (I have a problem with the volume button in my mouth when I drink)
This particular interaction was not one of my finer moments. As Katey rolled her eyes and pleaded inside of her head not to have to serve this table anymore, Jamie and the other 3-guys mocked and ridiculed me to the delight of all of the surrounding tables… and to Katey. I looked at her sheepishly and apologized completely for my disgusting display of manners… apparently Frat-boy Kevin had now taken over Sensible Kevin!
While we were waiting for our food, we ran out of beer. They do things a little differently at The Lower Deck than they do… well, pretty much anywhere else I have ever been… and every single task has a separate waiter. The food waiter, the beer waiter, the empty plate waiter, the empty jug waiter, the bring your bill waiter, the pay your bill waiter … Jason and Matt are pretty sure that there is a fighting waiter that they keep inside and only release on Yelling Patrons! Anyway, the empty beer pitcher waiter came by and I asked, “Can we order some more beer?” As he cleared away all of our empty pitchers, in mid-reach, and without missing a single movement of his precise job, he replied, “Not from me,” then smiled and walked away. It seems that we have finally been cut off from the bar… well, at least he was friendly.
Finally we got our beer privileges reinstated by the beer waiter, when up strolls the food waiter. Yes, Katey had decided to finish serving the obnoxious 4 guys. Actually, at that particular time it was only obnoxious Kevin. Passing the food around the table, she came to me, held my plate in front of me as everyone thought she was going to dump my food on my head and said, “One club sandwich, with foccacia bread… HOPEFULLY NO YELLING.” Ahhh, sweet Katey had proven that she had a great sense of humour, or hated me… I wasn’t really sure at that point… and she got probably the best tip of the night at a table that I am sure she didn’t want to serve at the beginning of the evening.
The other guys, as well as all of the tables within earshot, got a great laugh at my expense… but I really did deserve it. If you are reading this Katey, I am still sorry, but really, we all know that you had fun with this table:)
I am realizing that 6 instalments is not going to cover that whole weekend… it is still only dinner time and so much more happened that night!
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
As we were getting ready to leave the jazz festival the Master of Ceremonies for the day started talking about the 4 guys... yes, somehow three of us had done interviews with some dude while we were hanging around and waiting for Matt to meet up with us. Through all of the confusion of bad beer, getting the dog drunk, using the wrong toilet and finding out we were allowed to order booze instead of beer, we kind of forgot what we had told the guy.
PA announcer: “I’d like to welcome Jason, Todd and Kevin... blah, blah, blah... they work with ... blah, blah, blah... and they hate the beer and love the music. They are also on a quest of women of impaired judgement...” (we hated the music! By the time he was interviewing us the band sounded like the soundtrack from Borat!)
Matt sat there listening to the PA system and said: “That’s funny, there are a bunch of guys here from Newfoundland with the same first names and the same last names as you guys, just not combined. They even have the same kind of jobs as you guys...”
Jason: “Oh yeah, some guy interviewed us about the jazz festival.”
Matt: “And you used fake names?”
Jason: “Yes, sort of.”
Matt: “But you used your real jobs?”
Todd: “It just kind of happened.”
Kevin: “Yeah, we should have been spies or something.”
Matt: “I don’t think that you need to worry about women of ‘impaired judgement’ racing over to meet you...”
Kevin: “Well, not when the MC makes us sound so boring.”
Jason: “Let it roll!”
Kevin, Todd, Matt: “Let it roll.”
Then we rolled right on out of the beer tent towards the harbour.
By the time we all rolled up to the Lower Deck, the Halifax nightlife had already kicked into full throttle. One of the great things about the entertainment industry in Halifax is that people go out early and make a night of it. One of the crappy things about the entertainment industry in Halifax is that people go out early and make a night of it. It was only 6:00 and finding a table was a complete fluke because the place was already packed and the first band was already playing.
We were meeting a buddy of mine from the old neighbourhood, Jamie, who lived in Halifax now, although we could only find a table for four, we managed. By the time we ordered our two pitchers to start, we were all starving. Living on pub food for 4 days leaves an empty feeling in your stomach by the time it is mealtime again. Our poor waitress’s name was Katey, she was cute, she had a great sense of humour and above all she was patient and appreciated our quest for enjoyment.
I don’t have any idea what Jamie and the other 3 guys ordered for dinner, but I know I had a club sandwich and the only reason I know this for a fact is because club sandwiches at the Lower Deck come on Foccacia Bread. Anyone who has ever travelled with me will tell you, when in doubt about what I will order at a pub, put your money on a club sandwich and you will most likely win that bet.
So as we all ordered food, I asked for my club sandwich on whole-wheat bread. You would think that that is not an outrageous request… well, let me tell you my friends, you would be wrong!
Katey: “The Club Sandwich comes on Foccacia bread, which is a type of bread…”
Kevin: in a loud enough tone to basically drown out all of the surrounding tables, “I KNOW WHAT FOCCACIA BREAD IS!” (I have a problem with the volume button in my mouth when I drink)
This particular interaction was not one of my finer moments. As Katey rolled her eyes and pleaded inside of her head not to have to serve this table anymore, Jamie and the other 3-guys mocked and ridiculed me to the delight of all of the surrounding tables… and to Katey. I looked at her sheepishly and apologized completely for my disgusting display of manners… apparently Frat-boy Kevin had now taken over Sensible Kevin!
While we were waiting for our food, we ran out of beer. They do things a little differently at The Lower Deck than they do… well, pretty much anywhere else I have ever been… and every single task has a separate waiter. The food waiter, the beer waiter, the empty plate waiter, the empty jug waiter, the bring your bill waiter, the pay your bill waiter … Jason and Matt are pretty sure that there is a fighting waiter that they keep inside and only release on Yelling Patrons! Anyway, the empty beer pitcher waiter came by and I asked, “Can we order some more beer?” As he cleared away all of our empty pitchers, in mid-reach, and without missing a single movement of his precise job, he replied, “Not from me,” then smiled and walked away. It seems that we have finally been cut off from the bar… well, at least he was friendly.
Finally we got our beer privileges reinstated by the beer waiter, when up strolls the food waiter. Yes, Katey had decided to finish serving the obnoxious 4 guys. Actually, at that particular time it was only obnoxious Kevin. Passing the food around the table, she came to me, held my plate in front of me as everyone thought she was going to dump my food on my head and said, “One club sandwich, with foccacia bread… HOPEFULLY NO YELLING.” Ahhh, sweet Katey had proven that she had a great sense of humour, or hated me… I wasn’t really sure at that point… and she got probably the best tip of the night at a table that I am sure she didn’t want to serve at the beginning of the evening.
The other guys, as well as all of the tables within earshot, got a great laugh at my expense… but I really did deserve it. If you are reading this Katey, I am still sorry, but really, we all know that you had fun with this table:)
I am realizing that 6 instalments is not going to cover that whole weekend… it is still only dinner time and so much more happened that night!
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Dating With a Brain Tumor
One thing that I never really thought about until very recently is, when I meet someone new in the dating area, when is a good time to tell them about Achmed? It is kind of an awkward subject to bring up with a stranger and it is certainly not something I want to define me for the rest of my life.
Saturday afternoon I went on a date with a girl from Vancouver named Sarah Rowland. Normally I would not use her name here, but for those of you, who don’t know, she is the girl, well lady actually, who set out across Canada to have 70 dates in 70 days and she is writing a blog and column about it... http://indiegirl.lavalife.com/... she is a good writer and a cool chick, you can look her up here. She never actually made her 70 goal as she started to seek quality dates instead of a number... I was number 43, the grande-finale. I figure that she left the most hopeless for last...lol.
Well, the ‘date’ with Sarah was not a typical date, I never met her at the supermarket, or a bar, or online... I heard about her quest and figured that I should meet her, I mean seriously, if what she was doing was not embracing life and taking control of her destiny, what is? Sarah is on a quest (or manhunt as I refer to it with her) to find ‘The One’. To be fair, I emailed her in advance of meeting her to let her know that I am very likely not ‘The One’, as I seem to have severe commitment issues, but I would love to meet her anyway.
We had coffee, chatted about her trip and Achmed and hit the coastal highway and went for lunch. Good conversation and company, and finally there was a day of rain which I could have been writing more of the Halifax story and I was out on a date... oh well, you have to live life.
Sarah already knew I had a little friend that comes everywhere with me and she was really interested in hearing about how I was dealing with it, but as a rule, whenever I meet someone new it is not really the first thing I bring up. Well, I haven’t really met anyone new in a while, but I figure when I do, how do I bring it up? “Hi, I am Kevin, I have a good job, play guitar, ride a motorcycle and have a little buddy in my head named Achmed.” If someone came up to me and said that, I would probably run... very fast!
It really is kind of an awkward topic to bring up, although probably not as awkward as sticking both feet in my mouth, one right after another, in the same conversation. The other night I was out for a drink with a friend of mine and ran into a couple of girls I knew from the old days. I hadn’t seen either one of them in close to 20 years. Anyway, chatting with one of them, I asked something about her husband... well, he died a few years ago... I felt like an idiot, passed along my condolences and changed the subject. I asked about her father... she started to laugh (in the sympathetic way as if to think, ‘oh you poor dumbass’) and said, “Actually, he passed away recently as well, but don’t worry you are not going to die just because you are sitting next to me.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her about Achmed, for all I know a brain tumor could have been the culprit for one of her mourning’s.
I seem to stumble into awkward conversations a lot lately.
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
Saturday afternoon I went on a date with a girl from Vancouver named Sarah Rowland. Normally I would not use her name here, but for those of you, who don’t know, she is the girl, well lady actually, who set out across Canada to have 70 dates in 70 days and she is writing a blog and column about it... http://indiegirl.lavalife.com/... she is a good writer and a cool chick, you can look her up here. She never actually made her 70 goal as she started to seek quality dates instead of a number... I was number 43, the grande-finale. I figure that she left the most hopeless for last...lol.
Well, the ‘date’ with Sarah was not a typical date, I never met her at the supermarket, or a bar, or online... I heard about her quest and figured that I should meet her, I mean seriously, if what she was doing was not embracing life and taking control of her destiny, what is? Sarah is on a quest (or manhunt as I refer to it with her) to find ‘The One’. To be fair, I emailed her in advance of meeting her to let her know that I am very likely not ‘The One’, as I seem to have severe commitment issues, but I would love to meet her anyway.
We had coffee, chatted about her trip and Achmed and hit the coastal highway and went for lunch. Good conversation and company, and finally there was a day of rain which I could have been writing more of the Halifax story and I was out on a date... oh well, you have to live life.
Sarah already knew I had a little friend that comes everywhere with me and she was really interested in hearing about how I was dealing with it, but as a rule, whenever I meet someone new it is not really the first thing I bring up. Well, I haven’t really met anyone new in a while, but I figure when I do, how do I bring it up? “Hi, I am Kevin, I have a good job, play guitar, ride a motorcycle and have a little buddy in my head named Achmed.” If someone came up to me and said that, I would probably run... very fast!
It really is kind of an awkward topic to bring up, although probably not as awkward as sticking both feet in my mouth, one right after another, in the same conversation. The other night I was out for a drink with a friend of mine and ran into a couple of girls I knew from the old days. I hadn’t seen either one of them in close to 20 years. Anyway, chatting with one of them, I asked something about her husband... well, he died a few years ago... I felt like an idiot, passed along my condolences and changed the subject. I asked about her father... she started to laugh (in the sympathetic way as if to think, ‘oh you poor dumbass’) and said, “Actually, he passed away recently as well, but don’t worry you are not going to die just because you are sitting next to me.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her about Achmed, for all I know a brain tumor could have been the culprit for one of her mourning’s.
I seem to stumble into awkward conversations a lot lately.
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Achmed's First Funeral
I have been surrounded by a lot of death in my lifetime and I have been to way too many funerals. When you are from such a huge family, and are among the younger ones, that is just a fact of life.
In recent years though, I have been attending more funerals for the parents of my friends. It seems that when you hit this vintage in life, the people you looked up to as a child start checking-out and leaving the world to us... I hope that we don’t all let them down.
Earlier this week I brought Achmed to his first funeral... or at least the first one that I knew I was bringing him to. My friend’s father lost his battle with lung cancer and headed up to the big sailboat in the sky. I didn’t know him very well, in fact, I don’t think that he even remembered my name when I saw him, but he seemed like a pretty nice chap. It is possible that he didn’t like me now that I think about it. He took me out sailing once and I left black scuff marks on the deck of his boat, from my hiking boots... I never got invited back, so that could be a sign.
Anyway, my buddy’s father was a retired teacher and seemed to have a lot of friends, or at least judging by the crowd in the chapel, and was probably one of the first ones in his group to check-out. The thing that struck me the most about the service was that almost everyone there had grey hair.
My parents always taught me that you go to funerals and wakes to support the people left behind, not necessarily because you knew the deceased. I was actually amazed at the lack of ‘friend support’ that showed up that day and it got me to thinking about friendships in general. I always seem to think about deep things at funerals; actually one of my favourite places to go and ponder life is in a graveyard. I know that sounds strange, but nobody ever bothers you when you are sitting in a graveyard, other than a friendly and possibly sympathetic nod.
This week was also The Royal St. John’s Regatta week here, and according to Jack Layton, leader of the National NDP party, it is the greatest community event in Canada. Personally, I have always thought that The Calgary Stampede was the greatest community event in Canada; perhaps Jack has never been to it. Anyway, I didn’t bring Achmed to the Regatta, primarily because I never go, so why change things to that regard now? What I did do was hop on my bike and went visiting for the day, which was more enjoyable for me.
The Regatta, whether I like it or not is irrelevant, is ultimately a celebration of life. 191 years ago, when it started, it was a mid-summer break for all the fishermen from all the surrounding communities to compete against each other to see who the fastest rowers were. It is a highly attended event and the people who go love it, plus it is a holiday in the middle of the week, so it can’t be a bad thing. On a smaller scale, it is actually not all that different from The Stampede... just fishermen instead of cowboys and boats instead of horses.
So in one week, and within a couple of days of each other, Achmed was around for a celebration of a past life and a celebration of life in general... and it has been hot and sunny to boot! If it wasn’t for the constant roaring in my head and the on again / off again headache that has been plaguing me for a few weeks now, I would say it has been a pretty good week.
This afternoon Achmed goes on his first 'date'... it should be interesting!
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
In recent years though, I have been attending more funerals for the parents of my friends. It seems that when you hit this vintage in life, the people you looked up to as a child start checking-out and leaving the world to us... I hope that we don’t all let them down.
Earlier this week I brought Achmed to his first funeral... or at least the first one that I knew I was bringing him to. My friend’s father lost his battle with lung cancer and headed up to the big sailboat in the sky. I didn’t know him very well, in fact, I don’t think that he even remembered my name when I saw him, but he seemed like a pretty nice chap. It is possible that he didn’t like me now that I think about it. He took me out sailing once and I left black scuff marks on the deck of his boat, from my hiking boots... I never got invited back, so that could be a sign.
Anyway, my buddy’s father was a retired teacher and seemed to have a lot of friends, or at least judging by the crowd in the chapel, and was probably one of the first ones in his group to check-out. The thing that struck me the most about the service was that almost everyone there had grey hair.
My parents always taught me that you go to funerals and wakes to support the people left behind, not necessarily because you knew the deceased. I was actually amazed at the lack of ‘friend support’ that showed up that day and it got me to thinking about friendships in general. I always seem to think about deep things at funerals; actually one of my favourite places to go and ponder life is in a graveyard. I know that sounds strange, but nobody ever bothers you when you are sitting in a graveyard, other than a friendly and possibly sympathetic nod.
This week was also The Royal St. John’s Regatta week here, and according to Jack Layton, leader of the National NDP party, it is the greatest community event in Canada. Personally, I have always thought that The Calgary Stampede was the greatest community event in Canada; perhaps Jack has never been to it. Anyway, I didn’t bring Achmed to the Regatta, primarily because I never go, so why change things to that regard now? What I did do was hop on my bike and went visiting for the day, which was more enjoyable for me.
The Regatta, whether I like it or not is irrelevant, is ultimately a celebration of life. 191 years ago, when it started, it was a mid-summer break for all the fishermen from all the surrounding communities to compete against each other to see who the fastest rowers were. It is a highly attended event and the people who go love it, plus it is a holiday in the middle of the week, so it can’t be a bad thing. On a smaller scale, it is actually not all that different from The Stampede... just fishermen instead of cowboys and boats instead of horses.
So in one week, and within a couple of days of each other, Achmed was around for a celebration of a past life and a celebration of life in general... and it has been hot and sunny to boot! If it wasn’t for the constant roaring in my head and the on again / off again headache that has been plaguing me for a few weeks now, I would say it has been a pretty good week.
This afternoon Achmed goes on his first 'date'... it should be interesting!
From Achmed and Me... Live Life!
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The George Street Festival
This weekend was the 25th annual George Street Festival in my hometown. Normally, it is not something I take part in very much (I am not really a fan of the drunken culture that George St. breeds. To clarify what I mean, yes I drink on occassion; but no, I do not get hammered to go out.) I usually go down one night to see the bands, but that is about it. This year was Achmed’s first GSF and I guess I thought that he needed to be introduced properly. I also needed some noise to clear my head since the past week has been a pretty big head-ringer for me. Everyone who speaks sounds like a radio station that is not quite tuned on the channel properly… I hear all static.
Actually, up until about a week before the festival I was mentally debating going camping this weekend, but I opted for staying home instead. The Thursday night was a no-brainer as far as me hitting the street, Blue Rodeo was playing. Ask anyone who has ever seen me pick up a guitar, they will tell you that there was no way I was missing that night.
So, over the Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights that I spend wandering George Street with a beer in my hand (or gin and tonic), I probably met close to 100 people who I have not seen in anywhere from a few months to several years. What blew me away was how many of them knew about my new buddy, and how many of them walked up to me and said, “So, how are you and Achmed doing these days?"; "I love your blog man!"; "When are you going to finish the KISS concert story?"; “You are going to be fine, good luck!””… etc. It was kind of a bit overwhelming sometimes.
Normally when I go out, I am with a group of people, sometimes large and sometimes small, but I rarely go out alone. Thursday night was traditional for me; I was with a group of friends and pretty much hung out with them all night. There was that odd incident where a group of people were waving at me and saying hi and taking pictures, that was when I realized I was actually pretty close to Joe Thornton (San Hose Sharks), who was here for a golf tournament with a group of other NHL players. It was a bit awkward when I waved back at them and they ignored me…lol.
Anyway, Friday and Saturday nights I kept getting separated from the friends I was with, but at an event like that, in a place where I grew up, that doesn’t really matter that much. I was bumping into people I knew all over the place. In fact, if George Street was typically as much fun and social as it was on Saturday night, I might go out more often. Well, not too much more often, when Ajay called me this morning to go for a ride, I felt like I had just hit the mattress… and when I got to Starbuck’s, it wasn’t open yet! (This is where the old me would have gone into a huge rant on how bad customer service is around here.)
And to the girls at Dusk, who are eagerly awaiting the next instalment of “4-Guys and a Rock ‘n’ Roll Band”, I will be getting back to it soon… if we get some rain… and yes, I will try to break them up into shorter sections.
I hope that you all had a great weekend too.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
Actually, up until about a week before the festival I was mentally debating going camping this weekend, but I opted for staying home instead. The Thursday night was a no-brainer as far as me hitting the street, Blue Rodeo was playing. Ask anyone who has ever seen me pick up a guitar, they will tell you that there was no way I was missing that night.
So, over the Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights that I spend wandering George Street with a beer in my hand (or gin and tonic), I probably met close to 100 people who I have not seen in anywhere from a few months to several years. What blew me away was how many of them knew about my new buddy, and how many of them walked up to me and said, “So, how are you and Achmed doing these days?"; "I love your blog man!"; "When are you going to finish the KISS concert story?"; “You are going to be fine, good luck!””… etc. It was kind of a bit overwhelming sometimes.
Normally when I go out, I am with a group of people, sometimes large and sometimes small, but I rarely go out alone. Thursday night was traditional for me; I was with a group of friends and pretty much hung out with them all night. There was that odd incident where a group of people were waving at me and saying hi and taking pictures, that was when I realized I was actually pretty close to Joe Thornton (San Hose Sharks), who was here for a golf tournament with a group of other NHL players. It was a bit awkward when I waved back at them and they ignored me…lol.
Anyway, Friday and Saturday nights I kept getting separated from the friends I was with, but at an event like that, in a place where I grew up, that doesn’t really matter that much. I was bumping into people I knew all over the place. In fact, if George Street was typically as much fun and social as it was on Saturday night, I might go out more often. Well, not too much more often, when Ajay called me this morning to go for a ride, I felt like I had just hit the mattress… and when I got to Starbuck’s, it wasn’t open yet! (This is where the old me would have gone into a huge rant on how bad customer service is around here.)
And to the girls at Dusk, who are eagerly awaiting the next instalment of “4-Guys and a Rock ‘n’ Roll Band”, I will be getting back to it soon… if we get some rain… and yes, I will try to break them up into shorter sections.
I hope that you all had a great weekend too.
From Achmed and Me… Live Life!
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