Where the Woozle Is

So after my long absence from home for work, I immediately followed it up with a trip - this time for pleasure. I finally went to see the home of my wife. She lives in a lovely old character home in James Bay, not a block from the childhood home of Emily Carr. She and her roommate rent the back half (well, the top of the back half), of this large yellow house pictured below. It’s a nice place, but the rent is quite steep (very common for Victoria).

The house is actually owned by multiple parties (a sort of vintage Victorian duplex if you will), again common in the crazy expensive world of Victoria’s real estate.

It’s a nice place, good back yard, and despite the fact that the address is on Government Street, its in a really nice neighborhood. Two blocks from Beacon Hill Park, three blocks from the beach at Dallas Road - prime location really!

Two bedrooms and a bath upstairs, a half bath, kitchen and living room down, with a cozy gas fireplace for the Bean to curl up next to. Did I mention the shared upstairs balcony? Plus, it’s only a block to the Pub at the James Bay Inn.

On the down side, it rained all Saturday, so aside from some rather wet walks with the dog around the parks, I really only got to enjoy the true Victoria lifestyle on Sunday, when we took a trip out to East Sooke Park, for a long hike and some geo-caching.

What amazes me about the area, is the sheer number of people who go out and hike on a sunny Sunday- everybody, and usually their dogs. Sasha was perplexed by the variety of canine life forms she encountered, and her reactions around strange dogs are always hard to predict…some she likes, and others she tries to kill…always fun…many apologies and long winded explanations to other dog owners along the way. She even got a swim in!

Anyway, it was a fun and sunny day. Here’s a taste.

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LONG TIME GONE

So I’ve been in “camp” for the last 12 days. Well, they call it camp anyway, but really its just working away from home and staying in cheap motels with substandard kitchenettes. I’ve been to camp. Camp was fun. You got to sing songs around a fire at camp. There were girls at camp. Now, its just time away from home. Seriously, the word camp has greatly changed in my mind. When I was a kid (and a planter) it could mean sleeping in a tent. Now, it’s a motel, or a floating ATCO trailer on a barge.

So some stuff happened while I was gone. Some good, some bad. Change just occurs. You can’t stop it.

On the plus side, flowers are finally blooming in my new garden. I have a lovely crop of Crocuses and Squill, with many more plants just bursting at the buds. It’s not as far ahead as some gardens in Victoria, but it’s a vast improvement over naked black earth.

The wife repainted the living room while I was gone. Not that you could tell. It was yellow when I left, and its yellow now. But it’s a different (slightly) shade of yellow. And some pictures have been rearranged. I’m going to stop this line of inquiry before I get in trouble, although calling Kira “the wife” has probably already dug me a hole that I can’t get out of. Speaking of the wife, I’m finally going to visit her at her house in Victoria. Imagine having a wife and never having been to where she lives. It’s almost like some freaky mail order bride thing going on.

They also changed the time while I was gone. This means its now dark again when I get up. Hurray, like waking up that early isn’t bad enough when there’s some daylight. Thanks USA…thanks for everything. Thanks for a war in Iraq. Thanks for GMO food. Thanks for reality TV shows that give us insight into the problems that rich pop-star wives of famous soccer players have integrating into LA lifestyles. Thanks for over two liquid ounces of fat in a single burger. Thanks a lot.

Another thing that happened while I was gone was the massive recall of pet food. My dog eats food; fortunately, I haven’t been feeding her one of the tainted varieties. However, I did just discover that Kira did, in fact, purchase a can of one of the recalled varieties while I was gone. It’s not one of the recalled lots, but I think I’ll just chuck it anyway. The Bean needs her kidneys. She might have dodged a bullet there.

Also, apparently, while I was away, somebody elected Diamond Joe Quimby as the Mayor of Victoria. Citizens of Victoria, I now declare today Nelly Furtado Day. Spooky. Really freaking spooky.

Life goes on.

Becomming a Better Pirate

In this modern age that we live in, it's all about striving for greatness. With the recent fashion trends reviving the pirate look, I have found it important to brush up on my swordsmanship. After all, I don't quite have the good looks of Captain Jack Sparrow, although with practice, maybe I could kick his ass.

So with this goal in mind, I haul myself off to a local high school gymnasium every Thursday night at eight o'clock, to work on my fencing skills...and believe me, they need work. It could be true that I am to uncoordinated to be a successful pirate. I can never seem to get my feet right. Or, if I do get the footwork down, I get stabbed by my adversary because I was looking at my feet. Fencing is a skill that requires incredible wrist control..it's all in the wrist so to speak. I need to work on the wrists.

On the plus sides, there are some pretty cool aspects about fencing class.
Like the fact that for the mere cost of 2 dollars, I get to aim a sword at somebody's heart for an hour and a half.
Where else can you yell out the immortal word's "HELLO...MY NAME IS INIGO MONTOYA, YOU KILLED MY FATHER... PREPARE TO DIE", without it sounding forced.
It's also a pretty good workout. You get very hot in those protective suits, and your pulse is definitely elevated when your locked in mortal combat.

I've yet to best an opponent, but I have scored so nice blows that even Inigo would be proud of. Maybe I can still become the Dread Pirate Roberts at some later date...and after a little more practice.