February 3, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You've got the right kind of energy to get things done today -- and have fun while you're at it! You may surprise some folks who are bumbling along as you pass them by with a smile on your face!
Tupper does not understand that I can be a bum and sleep in until 8 a.m. or noon. Sure, he’s enjoyed having me around much more over the past week, but Taylor Swift will sing an entire live performance on key before Tupper’s internal clock stops giving him the customary 6 a.m. wakeup call. I tuned out his licking and scratching and repositioning circles for as long as I could, but then I realized, Who am I kidding? I’m awake. Decided to take advantage of the fact that my morning rush doesn’t have to be. We drove down to Spanish Banks, my favourite area of Vancouver, and he bounded out of the car, on a mission to run straight to the off-leash dog beach. Well, he got sidetracked sniffing a Doberman’s butt and then a pug’s, but he still made the jaunt from pavement to sand in a record five minutes.
The beach is Tupper’s great equalizer. He regularly stumbles and suffers through unpredictable gooney bird landings. On the uneven sand, it almost looks normal. Like Pee-Wee Herman’s unfortunate bike dismount: I meant to do that! The whole romp was good for Tupper’s ego. He even outran a basset hound. Rather certain he relived that moment when he succumbed to a snoring slumber thirty seconds into the drive.
Must appreciate the freedom that comes from being between jobs. When was the last time I got to Spanish Banks on a weekday morning? And when did I last get to meet up with my sister on Dunbar for coffee? Sven was looking angelic, sleeping in the stroller and Gretel, covered in head-to-toe pink resembled an oversized stick of Hubba Bubba gum. Meanwhile, poor Estelle looked like Rocky Raccoon. “Yeah, he’s an angel now,” she said, glancing down at her four-month-old. “You should’ve heard him in the night.”
“He’s too loud!” Gretel chimed in as colour commentator.
“Better not let Lucy see Gretel bathed in pink,” I whispered as we inched closer to the Starbucks counter.
“Oh, screw Lucy! Gretel likes pink.”
“All those Disney princess videos aren’t helping, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, I’m really blowing it. If Gretel becomes a lesbian, Lucy’ll have to be her tutor. For now, I’m just going to let Gretel enjoy the Teletubbies and Goodnight Moon. Don’t tell anyone, but I might even let her have some of my donut.”
“You’re a bad, bad mommy,” I kidded.
“I know. To tell the truth, the only reason I’d share my donut is so a little less goes to my hips. Can’t work off all this extra baby weight by going to a gym, so Gretel’s just going to have to share the sugar.”
I looked down at Gretel who was seated on the floor, trying to spin in a circle, pushing off the leg of the man in the business suit in front of us. “You think she needs the sugar?”
“Oh, it makes no difference whether I give it to her or not. She breathes it in. God knows what harm I’m doing to her with the coffee aroma thrown in.”
As the gentleman turned and glared at Estelle, I perked up. Jobless and childless? Underrated.
KEN’S JOURNAL (via iPhone):
IT’S DARK AT 5:30 IN THE MORNING. THAT SHOULD COME AS NO SURPRISE, BUT SOMEHOW I HADN’T FACTORED THAT IN WHEN I SET MY ALARM LAST NITE. LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW & ALMOST WENT BACK TO BED. THEN I REMEMBERED MY DATE ON THURS W/MARIBETH. MUST GET UP. MUST GET RID OF MY BEER BELLY IN 2 DAYS. MUST JOG.
ALL RIGHT, THE BELLY ISN’T GOING ANYWHERE IN THE SHORT RUN. BUT I GOTTA START SOMEWHERE. HAVE NEVER GONE ON A DIET & THE THOUGHT OF COTTAGE CHEESE & LITE BEER MIGHT CAUSE AN UNSIGHTLY PIMPLE OUTBREAK B/F MY DATE. DEFINITELY MUST JOG.
AS I HEADED OUT ALONG DAVID LAM PARK, I WAS SHOCKED TO SEE SO MANY DERANGED INSOMNIACS & FITNESS FREAKS. THEY FLEW BY ME, NOT EVEN SOUNDING WINDED AS THEY GLIBLY ANNOUNCED “ON YOUR LEFT” OR “ON YOUR RIGHT” B/F THE PASS.
VERY HUMBLING. I WAS ON THE TRACK TEAM IN HIGH SCHOOL. NOW I’M BEING OVERTAKEN BY AN 80-YEAR-OLD WOMAN IN A FLOURESCENT GREEN RUNNING ROOM UNITARD. “IT’S GOING TO BE A SUNNY DAY!” SHE BEAMED, GIVING ME A HEAD TURN AS SHE PASSED. YEAH. IN 2 FREAKIN’ HOURS! I THINK SHE NEEDED TO SAY SOMETHING TO EXPLAIN THE FLASHING OF HER DENTURES. WASN’T BUYIN’ THE “SUNNY DAY” CRAP. SHE WAS GLOATING. GOSH GOLLY, THOSE WHIPPERSNAPPERS DON’T HAVE MUCH IN THEM THESE DAYS, DO THEY?
I AM NOT PROUD, BUT I GATHERED ALL THE ENERGY I HAD 10 MINUTES LATER WHEN I SPOTTED A MAN AHEAD OF ME IN A WALKER, OUT FOR A PRE-DAWN STROLL. PASSED HIM W/EASE! 2 MINUTES LATER I WAS HACKING AWAY, LEANING OVER A SEAWALL RAILING. WAS THAT VOMIT OR BLOOD TRYING TO MAKE ITS WAY UP?
AND I STILL HAD TO TURN AROUND & MAKE THE RETURN LEG HOME. W/THE SUDDEN UNPLEASANT AWAKENING OF MY LEFT KNEEE, IT WAS MORE HOBBLE-WALK THAN RUN.
REWARDED MYSELF BY PICKING UP A DOZEN DONUTS FROM TIM HORTONS—FOR MY COLLEAGUES—ON THE WAY TO WORK. ONLY 4 LEFT BY THE TIME I GOT OFF THE ELEVATOR. (WLD’VE BEEN 5, BUT HAD TO GIVE THE NEW CANADA DONUT A TRY. AFTER ALL, I LOVE MY COUNTRY.)
GUESS I HAVE SOME KINKS TO WORK OUT IN MY WORKOUT.