Air Force One Goes On A Joyride

I have a really silly question. Now, keep in mind, this is just a question, so -- please, everyone -- don't read more into the question than is actually there. It's just a question, and enquiring minds want to know: If folks are planning to take Air Force One -- the President of the United States' airplane -- for a joyride over New York City, wouldn't it be understandable to assume that the President knew about it beforehand? And if he did not know about it, would it not also be safe to assume that he should have known about it? Defense Secretary Robert Gates said the photo shoot was only part of the plane's mission, which also included practice instrument approaches and landings at Atlantic City International Airport. The entire mission had been coordinated with officials from the Federal Aviation Administration and air traffic control representatives in the New York area. Gates said planning for the mission began in late March 2009 and resulted in numerous teleconferences to coordinate and finalize the flight.

March? Teleconferences? And still the President of the United States did not know?

I think I am missing something here. I work in a building with about 600 people. My boss knows when someone on the fourth floor sneezes, how many times, and what kind of tissue he used to blow his nose. The President of the United States did not get even the slighest wind of the planned escapade with Air Force One? I have just enough cynicism that I don't believe it. Too many other people knew about it far in advance. The Defense Secretary, the Federal Aviation Administration and air traffic controllers knew about it, and no one told the President? If it really is possible to successfully keep a secret like that from the President of the United States, well, then ... that's an even more frightening thought.

Ursus americanus -- The North Shore Bears

When I was a little girl, my father adopted a baby black bear cub whose mother had been accidentally killed by loggers. The baby bear cried just like a human baby. There are, in fact, urban legends of black bears showing maternal concern when they hear the crying of a human baby, their cries are so much alike. My mother used to feed the baby bear from a baby bottle. It's that time of year again, when the bears wake up and head off in search of food. Vancouver has encroached on the bear population, especially on the North Shore Mountains, and the bears consider outdoor garbage cans, bird feeders and pet food dishes as their veritable smörgåsbord.

"Oh, look, Hank, the humans have left food out for us again. They must like us."

"Well, I guess that's because we're so cute."

Bears are cute -- they're funny and entertaining -- but also very dangerous. Each year in British Columbia, several people are attacked and injured or killed by both black bears and grizzly bears, and black bears can sometimes be predatory. A few years ago, a rancher in the Chilcotin was chased until he fell off his horse and was killed by a black bear. In another incident, two people were attacked and killed in northern British Columbia. The number of people attacked by black bears is about the same as the number attacked by grizzlies, and unfortunately, these numbers have been inceasing as the bear population increases. There are about 160,000 black bears in British Columbia.

The bears in the North Shore Mountains of Vancouver have -- for the most part -- lost their fear of humans. There have been a couple of instances recently of bears swimming across the Burrard Inlet and walking around the City of Vancouver, one in an elementary school playground. It was finally caught by conservation officers in the 2100 block of Franklin Street, and it was tranquilized and released into the wild.

If you encounter at bear remember the four S’s -

• Stay calm
• Stand still
• Speak softly
• Slowly back away

Vancouver also has a Bear Hotline (yes) 604-990-BEAR.

And yes, bears are cute. If you want a chuckle, check out these bear cubs captured on video a couple of years ago in North Vancouver. It's a common sight. Altogether now -- awwwwww....

To Love You and Leave You...

No, no, no, I'm not going anywhere. But my mind has become a barren wasteland for the moment. Have you ever done something so embarrassing that you want to jump on a plane, head for a foreign country, change your name, change your identity ... Oh goodness. Well, without going into the gory details, I did that today. I remember once, the first time I ever witnessed someone embarrassing themself ... gosh. I was about five years old, and I brought a little friend home to play at my house. My mother mistook my friend for someone else, and she chatted away to my little friend as though she were the other person. And then she started asking my little friend how her mother was -- and she mentioned her by name -- the other person's name. I was frozen to the spot. I remember it felt like everything was in slow motion, and I couldn't speak, "Stop, stop, Mom! You have the wrong person...!" But all I could do was stand there and watch the horror unfold. My little friend was frozen too. It was one those moments that I still see in my mind's eye as clearly as a diorama. Of course, to my mother it was nothing, but to a five year-old child watching her mother in an embarrassing situation was almost overwhelming devastation. My cheeks still burn when I think of it. Well, let me tell you, what I did today was much worse -- and folks who witnessed it -- well, their cheeks are probably still burning too. *sigh* So I am going to make myself scarce for a couple of days. As the Governator would say, "I'll be back".

I'll just bet you've never done anything to embarrass yourself -- have you? You have?

The Life Of A Frog

I read today on CNN that a recent study identified between 129 and 221 new species of frogs on the island of Madagascar. According to the scientists who carried out the study, this could practically double the number of amphibians known in the world. Well, I'm happy about that. I happen to be very fond of frogs. The more frogs we have in this world, the better, and I love the sound of frogs on a warm spring evening. I had a couple of pet frogs when I was a child. My parents had two lily ponds -- one in the front yard and one in the back -- and the ponds were stocked with dozens of water lilies, carp and frogs. My brothers and I used to feed the carp and the frogs by hand, with insects from the compost heap at the back of the garden. When I was in Biology 11 in high school, I was devastated that part of our curriculum was to dissect a frog. For some reason, frogs make me laugh. A few months ago I read a wonderful article in the New Yorker Magazine, and I kept it because every time I read it, I chuckle. So I have shamelessly stolen lifted borrowed it from a back issue of the magazine to share with you. The humor is a big macabre... but imagine, if you will, that you are a frog.

“Hey, can I ask you something? Why do human children dissect us?”

“It’s part of their education. They cut open our bodies in school and write reports about their findings.”

“Huh. Well, I guess it could be worse, right? I mean, at least we’re not dying in vain.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, our deaths are furthering the spread of knowledge. It’s a huge sacrifice we’re making, but at least some good comes out of it.”

“Let me show you something.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a frog-dissection report.”

“Who wrote it?”

“A fourteen-year-old human from New York City. Some kid named Simon.”

(Flipping through it.) “This is it? This is the whole thing?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Geez. It doesn’t look like he put a lot of time into this.”

“Look at the diagram on the last page.”

“Oh, my God . . . it’s so crude. It’s almost as if he wasn’t even looking down at the paper while he was drawing it. Like he was watching TV or something.”

“Read the conclusion.”

“ ‘In conclusion, frogs are a scientific wonder of biology.’ What does that even mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Why are the margins so big?”

“He was trying to make it look as if he had written five pages, even though he had only written four.”

“He couldn’t come up with one more page of observations about our dead bodies?”

“I guess not.”

“This paragraph looks like it was copied straight out of an encyclopedia. I’d be shocked if he retained any of this information.”

“Did you see that he spelled ‘science’ wrong in the heading?”

“Whoa . . . I missed that. That’s incredible.”

“He didn’t even bother to run it through spell-check.”

“Who did he dissect?”

“Harold.”

“Betsy’s husband? Jesus. So this is why Harold was killed. To produce this . . . ‘report.’ ”

(Nods.) “This is why his life was taken from him.”

(Long pause.)

“Well, at least it has a cover sheet.”

“Yeah. The plastic’s a nice touch.”

Coffee ... Ambrosia Of The Gods

Yesterday at work we were having a conversation about food -- as ususal -- and someone asked us if there was one food or drink we could not give up, what would it be? Someone said chocolate, someone else said ice cream, one person said broccoli (yes), and after some thought, I said, "Coffee". There is no food more wonderful or more satisfying than a really good cup of coffee. And by the same token, there is nothing less satisfying or nausea-inducing than a bad cup of coffee. There is a particular chain of coffee shops that shall remain nameless, but in my opinion serves the worst coffee known to mankind. This particular chain uses cheap South American robusta coffee beans that are over-roasted in order to mask the cheapness and lower quality of the beans. And what is even worse, they have managed to create a generation of coffee drinkers who think that over-priced, over-roasted, burnt, oily coffee is good. Everyone seems to drink it, but I wonder if those folks really know how really good coffee should taste. And if they did, would they go back to that horrible rotgut over-priced coffee.

The best coffee I have ever had was in France. Most European coffees are actually not roasted very much at all. The wonderful coffee flavor comes from properly brewing the coffee, which for some reason we in North American have not learned how to do well. When my daughter and I stayed at the l'Hôtel de Banville in Paris, a free continental breakfast was offered, included in the price of the room. We had wonderful croissants and rolls, with sweet butter and jam. The coffee was served in silver coffee carafes, with silver cream and sugar bowls. Both the coffee and the cream were steaming hot. I will never forget my first taste of that coffee. It was ambrosia of the gods. After drinking that coffee, I could never -- ever -- drink the burnt, oily coffee served at that chain that shall remain nameless.

The second best coffee I have ever had was in what was formerly called “Little Italy” here in Vancouver, but is now known as “the Drive” (Commercial Drive). They have some of the best barristas in the city on the Drive, and it was there that I learned how to make real Italian espresso. I use a stovetop espresso maker and it's very easy. Here is a website where you can learn how to do it. If I want cappuccino, I have a Bodum container that I can use to create foamy milk. Et voila! Espresso and cappuccino -- no fuss, no muss, and no burnt flavor.

There are wonderful coffees all over the world, Arabian, Turkish, Italian, French, Cuban, Austrian, Dutch, Costa Rican, Indian, Kenyan -- the list goes on. Each has its own flavor. I could never give up coffee. Just don't make me drink that awful stuff from Barstucks that place that shall remain nameless.

Traditions

Every night my father used to check the weather barometer to see what the weather was going to be the next day. He would tap it three times, and I can still hear him doing it. I have inherited the barometer, and I find myself doing the same thing every night - tap, tap, tap. It sits on the same place on my bookcase -- the same place it sat when I was a child -- and if you look closely, you can see the grooves in the wood where the legs of the barometer sit. Of course, in Vancouver it's fairly easy to tell what the weather is going to be. If the skies are dark and cloudy, and there is water falling from the sky, it's a typical rainy day. If the skies are blue and there is a strange yellow orb shining, it is an -- unusual -- sunny day. In Vancouver it is either raining, it has just rained, or it is about to rain. But every night, I still tap the barometer before I go to bed.

I wonder how many of us have, either consciously or unconsciously, picked up some of the habits of our parents. Are we even aware we are doing them? How many times have we said something to our children and then said, "Omigawd, I have turned into my mother!"

Our parents often pass on to us family traditions, customs, superstitions and other habits, and we pass them on to our children, sometimes without even being aware we are doing it. I will often see the Munchkins doing something, and I'll think, "Hmmmm, where have I seen that before?" Sometimes when I look quickly out of the corner of my eye, I can see my father in Phinnaeus -- just for a fleeting moment. And Marigold has inherited a huge amount of my mother's DNA, including her straight dark hair and feistiness. Every Christmas my daughter makes "Gambie's" Christmas pudding, complete with her "special" hot buttered rum sauce, and it simply would not be Christmas without it. Every year my brother says, "Oh, I had better not...." and then he has a big helping, because it is something he has loved since he was a little boy. It's as if a part of my mother is still with us, and it's times like those when we really can feel the spirits of our parents and grandparents. I know the Munchkins will carry on many of those traditions as well.

It's the little, everyday things that connect us the most with our childhoods -- such as tapping on the barometer every night. I think my Dad would get a kick out of that. How about you? What customs and traditions do your find yourself continuing?

The Wrestler

I'm always a day late and a dollar short when it comes to movies. I don't enjoy going to movie theaters most of the time. They're usually overly air-conditioned, I always seem to get stuck behind someone like Javier Glatt, the BC Lions linebacker, or in front of the Jabberwocky family and their three lovely children, Talkalot, Cryalot and Fartalot. I prefer to wait until a movie comes out on DVD and I can watch it in the comfort of my own home. So I am just now getting around to watching the movies that were nominated for best picture at the Academy Awards.

One of my favorite movies of this past season is "The Wrestler". In my opinion, everything about the movie is perfect. Having disliked "Slumdog Millionaire" so much, it was a treat for me to watch "The Wrestler" which was also a contender for best picture. In addition, Mickey Rourke was nominated for best actor. He won the Golden Globe and the BAFTA for best actor, and probably should have won the Oscar as well. His performance is nuanced, subtle and flawless. This movie was directed by Darren Aronofsky with the finesse and elegance of a conductor of a fine symphony orchestra. In addition, Marisa Tomei and Evan Rachel Wood were brilliant in their supporting roles as Randy’s friend and his daughter.

Mickey Rourke has had many incarnations during his career. He started out as the “pretty boy” heartthrob that women loved, but he has morphed into something completely different, and somehow more likeable. The pathos and humanity he brings to the role of Randy "The Ram" Robinson in this movie is brilliant. The movie pulled me in and made me feel as if I were a part of the whole experience, rather than just sitting and observing it. The movie feels real. I loved this movie. It was gritty and edgy and sad and completely wonderful. If you haven't seen it, you're in for a real treat -- just to watch Mickey Rourke's performance.

Slumdog Millionaire

Well, it's official. I am definitely from another planet. I recently rented and just finished watching the highly acclaimed, Golden Globe and Academy Award winning "Slumdog Millionaire", and I found it brutal and disturbing. I also found the acting pedestrian and uninspired, and the plot predictable and boring. It was one of the longest, most disappointing 90 minutes I have ever wasted spent. What am I missing? I felt I was being manipulated. I have never seen so many children being punched in the head by adults -- I started to feel ill to my stomach. I really wanted to like this movie, but in fact I intensely disliked it. However, since it has received so many rave reviews, I feel there must be something wrong with me -- not with the movie. Sometimes if there is a movie that everyone likes, and I don't care for, I will watch it again just to see what I am missing. But, I don't think I could bear to sit through "Slumdog Millionaire" again.

If you haven't seen it, give it a try and then tell me what you think. If you have seen it, please tell me what I'm missing. I don't get it. I really must be from another planet.

Jumping Off The Cliff Without A Parachute

Natura Morta
Giorgio Morandi
1929

Lately I have been feeling as if I am at a crossroads in my life. All the things that were once familiar and safe now feel stale and monotonous. It's time for some major changes. I am wearing a groove -- a rut, as it were -- in the routine of my life. I go to work, I come home; I go to work, I come home... It's often easier, however, to stay with the familiar and safe, rather than to take that step over the precipice into something new and exciting. Sometimes we need a shove.

In 21st Century North America, we are directed to live a certain way in order to have certain lives. We work, we go home; we work, we go home. Those of us who are fortunate enough to have jobs and homes don't want to question the ennui that can sometimes set in. "Is this all there is?"

Some of us taken up hobbies or volunteer work, to augment our lives and give back to the community. But we learn that being busy does not always equate to fulfillment. There is still that little voice inside us -- questioning -- what if... Many of us have been gifted -- blessed -- with talents we either don't realize we have, or have never perfected. There is that secret place inside us that wishes we could have been a skilled musician playing wonderful piano concertos in Carnegie Hall, or a painter exhibiting in the Louvre or the MoMA, or a chef in a five-star restaurant ... or whatever. But, most of us learn at an early age that in order to live our lives, we must learn to live practically. We must be practical. We are afraid -- terrified -- to jump off that precipice into the unknown.

Go to work, come home; go to work, come home.

The Blue Vase
Giorgio Morandi
1920

A journalist named Katharine Whitehorn once said "Find out what you like doing best and get someone to pay you for doing it." That should be the first thing taught to all children, the moment they learn to read. But, you know, it's never too late. If you are feeling dissatisfaction with your life -- change it. I admire people who have the courage to say, "This isn't working for me." I wish I could be one of them. I think, however, we all have an instinct to keep ourselves safe, so we stay with the tried and true -- just in case that parachute doesn't open when we jump off the cliff.

Bridgette DuBois

I don't watch much TV in the evenings, mainly because there isn't much to watch on TV, and mainly because -- well, the truth is -- I need a new TV, and anyway I prefer to watch movies. But one show I do enjoy is "Medium". Do any of you ever watch it? It's consistently good. And one character who just cracks me up every time she's on, is Bridgette. That little girl is a hoot! Where on earth did she come from? She steals every scene she's in, and I have never seen such a natural-born actor.

The little girl who plays the part of Bridgette DuBois is a young lady named Maria Lark. She was born in Siberia, Russia, and was adopted by an American single mother. Maria has been on "The Tonight Show" with Jay Leno four times, and is the youngest person ever to have co-hosted "The View" with Barbara Walters, et al. And believe me, that young lady can hold her own with Jay Leno and Barbara Walters. I can see Maria Lark growing up to become a wonderful actress and a force to be reckoned with. When I ask anyone I know "Who is your favorite character on 'Medium'?" they always say, "Bridg!"

You know how some people are born with their inner compass set on "cool"? They're inherently cool, and no matter what happens, they're cool. Well, that's Maria Lark. Here is a small clip of some of the outtakes from "Medium". I laugh every time I watch it.


If you click here, Bridg will take you on a tour of the "Medium" set. She's a hoot.