Blogger is Annoying Me.

UNDER CONSTRUCTION. Dammit.

So, I have been royally peeved with Blogger over the past twenty-four hours as it seems to be under as much construction as local area roads. And filled with just as many potholes. Hitting publish didn't result in publishing (instead choosing to hang at 0%). Then it resulted in publishing, many times over, even though it had screamed at me that it was unsuccessful. Refresh afterward to make sure nothing was there, and -- good -- there wasn't. Go back five minutes later, however, different story. Repeated, old posts. Want to make a small adjustment to something? Go through the process all over again. Taxing. Anyway, below is the original content of this post. It appears as though things are ticking along now. Grr.

There actually is a first part of the post about the trip to Hull, but I have been having troubles getting it to post. Actually, it was there, but the obsessive-compulsive part of me wanted to tweak a couple of things to get them to line up better. Now, I cannot get it to publish. Grr. It is forthcoming, though. Promise. Waiting with baited breath, I am sure.

To Hull and Back.

Yes, this might be the world's longest post. For me, anyway. But I guess that's what happens after a week of no posting. Blert. (Actually, following a world of hurt from Blogger, I have now started anew and split the post -- ed.) I won't even start with the overweight, middle-aged woman milling about the produce section of the grocery store in a t-shirt advertising a local 'gentlemen's establishment' last night. And no, she wouldn't have been confused with someone who had just aged somewhat less than gracefully. Cringe. No, tempting as that might be, I instead just returned from a weekend in the Gatineaus. And they were real purty. So was the company.

SCS and I left on Friday following a morning of classes and she and I edited some work until we reached Kingston, weaving in-and-out of both traffic and subordinate clauses. Then, of course, we needed to find a (free) Internet connection to send the report to the requisite people. People who do not necessarily read their email. Our first stop, a somewhat sleazy-looking motel, only briefly gave us a connection (after all, we weren't surfing for porn), so it was on to Queen's. An hour and a very helpful employee at the university who happened to be headed to Tanzania (from which SCS has just returned) later, and we were free to dine at the Sleepless Goat. Yes, the Sleepless Goat (who knew?). I didn't dare ask about the origin of the name. After this, it would be two days where the only Internet connection we would have would be like that found in the photo above. No email. No blogging. No stress (well, we'll get to that later).

On to the Gatineau hills and Les Trois Erables Bed and Breakfast in gorgeous Wakefield, QC. What a gorgeous spot. And a 110-year-old Victorian home. The decor was nice despite a couple of eyebrow-raising knick knacks interspersed. Service and the breakfast were tremendous. And a couple of great nights of sleep were had by all.

The view from the room defied beauty, conventional or otherwise. Overlooking the lake and the hills, trees shed their verdant skin for tones more suited to fall. Ablaze. A steam train also brings in tourists to take postcard pictures. And a covered bridge spans the water. No word if the waters are troubled.

Fall. How I love the fall. And in this case, even the tripping. Really, Wakefield is a quaint little spot. And I mean that in a good way. So relaxed.


Quebec, home to Ontario's underage drinkers and apparently, also home to the 'stubby' as a wine bottle as opposed to the traditional beer (Bob and Doug, anyone?) And a screw-top, too. God love the screw-top swill, er, wine. Not quite a Tetra Pak, but still. I likely should have known when it came in a non-descript paper bag, crumpled like my brain after drinking it. Alcohol in the depanneur -- got to love it. I guess.

The wedding was on Saturday at one of the local churches and one of the highlights (besides, of course, the nuptials -- duh) was one of the members of the wedding party getting up and singing Josh Grobin's You Raise Me Up. Better than Josh Grobin. Tears, flowing all around. And then, the awkward pause and silence at the end because, being in a church, nobody knew how to react. Then the eruption. Would have thought we were in a Baptist baptist church for a moment, except that this was, well, Wakefield. Hallelujahs all around. It was beautiful. The bride and groom, too, said their vows in the other's native language, which was a nice touch. The reception was at Wakefield's old mill, which also provided a spectacular backdrop. A recurring theme, yes. A waterfall. More fashionable leaves. And SCS was glad to finally have some chocolate

More Hullabalooza.

A number of great signs pointed us, cajoled us, pleaded us and directed us throughout the weekend. This one, in Wakefield, made me chuckle. I also want to "Attain Joyful Fluency". As opposed to the painful bilingualism I grace now. "Master tense situations"? Doesn't matter what language, that's a great skill to have in your back pocket ("I'm a teepee, I'm a wigwam"; "No, you're too tense"). Another sign I found to be quintessentially Quebecois advertised condominiums. In French, it pointed out that Gatineau was only 25 kilometres away. And in English, it blared out that Ottawa was only 30 away. Well, it is always said that you need to "Know your audience". But it was still funny to me. The sign of the weekend, however, must go to the store along the road (alas, no photo) that sells "Second-hand candles". I'm not kidding. Really, are they in bulk? Are they still liquid, or still smoking (somebody might be)? Are the colours all molded together in one gelatinous blob? Are wicks included? Tough to wax poetic about that one. By the way, a quick Google search for "second-hand candles" results in 1,280,000 hits. And strangely, for the Internet, no porn. Or ear candling.

During a peaceful walk gone amok on Saturday, SCS lost her wallet after the reception, but prior to the evening party. A wee panic ensued. Luckily enough, a retired police officer found it and tried to track her down, visiting local restaurants and businesses. He even called her parents. I'm guessing he worded it carefully, rather than say "Hey, I found your daughter's wallet along the railroad tracks beside the lake...but there's no sign of her". Not good. They told him that we had rented a car from Enterprise, which I had happened to park nose first (showing the logo sticker on the back) after heading to the mill in my new role as Sherlock Holmes. As he came to the door at the Bed and Breakfast, his phone rang. SCS had gone into the Pot au Feu restaurant (free plug because of your kindness) and one of the staff passed her a piece of paper. On it, her name and a phone number to call. I'd have been jealous and all, but you know. I am sure it is strange to see your name in a random and unexpected situation like that.

Anyway, it all worked out and we headed to the 'Bal en Blanc', where we were to wear all white, hence the name. A little skeptical at first, but it really worked out. Even after Labour Day. Neat. Even the decor was white, with sheets hung. And I can no longer say I've never had a man sporting a fluffy, black boa jump into my arms. No, I'm not going to post the picture. All in all, a good time, for sure.

Sunday, we had a little more time for relaxing and went hiking in the hills and over to the covered bridge. It was an absolutely spectacular morning, with blue sky and fluffy clouds. Air crisp like a potato chip. It just smelled and tasted good. Tickling the skin and tempting the nose. Along the way, we saw a flash of red fly by and saw a woodpecker take up in one of the trees nearby (above right). I hadn't seen such a big pecker before. Oh, let's re-write that one. Quite a weekend for birds as I had also seen my first wild bald eagle on Friday, flying gracefully over the Thames river.

All in all, it was a really good trip. I love hitting the road and seeing new things and new places. It didn't hurt that we were in a very pretty spot in which I could actually picture myself living if only there were appropriate work there. Oh, that work thing. Details, details. On the way back, we also hit the Hershey's factory in Smith's Falls (what, no damaged peanut butter cups in bulk? Shame, shame!) and Ikea in Burlington. We've kind of been jonesing for Ikea for a while and really, it's tough to come out of there without having bought something. Fall-smelly candles and tea light holder (oooh, that just reeks of manliness, doesn't it!) and some brushed steel tins (that's better) for me. The great book case dilemma for SCS, though she also couldn't resist coming away with some goods. Whoever says money doesn't help obviously doesn't have any. It makes the world go around, unfortunately.

Sunday night was spent in Toronto. A shout-out is in order to Connor, who hosted us (his parents might temper that a bit). He is, afterall, in the vernacular of SCS, "Fresh Human". And an adorable one at that.

1,470 total kms. Yawn.

The ever-so-imporant road trip music: Cat Power: The Greatest;Swing Kids OST; Great Lake Swimmers: Great Lake Swimmers; Sarah Harmer: You are Here; Band of Horses: Everything All the Time; Coldplay: Live 2003; Hayden: Elk Lake Serenade; Midlake: The Trials of Van Occupanther; Emily Haines: Kives Don't Have Your Back; Acid House Kings: Sing Along with the Acid House Kings; Voxtrot: Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives; Sarah McLachlan: Fumbling Toward Ecstacy; Sarah Harmer: I am a Mountain; Kathleen Edwards: Failer; REM: Green; The Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs; REM: Out of Time.

International Animal Swag. Hurrah.

Thanks to Cynthia at "Big Ass Fans" in Kentucky, I had a nice little package waiting for me at the post office today. Oooh, mail, how I love thee. Particularly if you're not bills, summonses or sticky little pizza flyers. For the ever-so intriguing backstory behind Big Ass Fans, visit here and check the comments for how it came to be that I had this little nugget in my mailbox today. You're back? Okay, so Big Ass Fans is nothing dirty(drat, you might be saying), but instead, a fan company. With a donkey as a mascot. And with Refrigerator Perry as a spokesperson (always thought Maytag or someone like that would be a more natural fit, but hey, what do I know?) The tidy little box contained a t-shirt (below) and three little stress balls (stress asses?) like the one to the right. Methinks this little gal will become my new road trip mascot (accompanying Barkley, of course), seeing as she is from the spoils of my last little highway foray. Ottawa, here we come on Friday.

Oh, the description on the web site describes it as a squeeze toy, rather than a stress ball. My bad (do the kids still say that these days? Hm, I wonder).

The Big Ass Squeeze Toy

Need some relief from the stress at work? Now you can release pent-up frustrations playing with your very own Big Ass.

When you're at your wit's end and about to go postal, simply grab your Big Ass and squeeze it, knead it, caress it, slap it, or make funny sounds with it. The tensions melt away.

Need some brevity to explain a simple concept to your boss or co-worker that they just can't seem to grasp - and yet you don't have any graphs, charts, or illustrations handy? Simply show them your Big Ass, suggest they give it a big kiss -- and the concept you have been trying to get across to them will become readily apparent.

Has your boss or co-worker had a hard time keeping their hands off your Big Ass? Tell them to quit playing with yours and buy their own right here.

Oh, the hilarity that is sure to ensue in the office tomorrow. And I think I'll call her Ane -- with one 'n', not because she's trying to assert her individuality or her 'alternativeness', but because, well, just look it up in a French-English dictionary already, will ya'. With the road trippin', I think she'll need some good shoes for walking. Perhaps not mules.

Alas, SCS has already suggested (some might say, strongly) that it might not be the wisest thing that I wear this shirt around her in public. Anywhere. Oh, how the list of my sketchy-slogan-ed t-shirts continues to grow, from "I cut the cheese in Wisconsin" to "That shirt says Porn Star!" and "Take me to the nookie" (replete with little, grinning aliens) . My favorite one I don't own simply had a picture of Ron Jeremy and said, "Daddy?" Smooth and/or classy. Definitely. Yeah.

The run on grey t-shirts from places starting with the letter of the day -- K -- continued with SCS's swell delivery of a Tusker shirt directly from Kenya. Tusker, my favorite beer (sweet, sweet beer...). And the back says "Baada ya Kazi...", or "After Work..." in Swahili for those of you who are a little less linguistically inclined. She also brought back a soapstone elephant from Tanzania, which I adore. It has a nice, reddish pink vein running through it. And it's strong like Bull. Elephants and beer, how can you possibly go wrong? Unless, of course, the beer tastes like elephant. Or like ass.

Above: The Back. Below: The Front. While you'll potentially have to forgive my spelling, the other Swahili I learned is that "taco taco" refers to each of your bum cheeks. As such, I'm hoping Taco Bell does not open a franchise in Tanzania, however closely tied taste would be to name. Collectively, your posterior would be referred to as a "wowowo". Not to be confused with punda kubwa, or Big Ass.

Toss Your Salads.

It used to be that spinach and some Olive Oyl might be fine starting ingredients for cooking, but it seems Popeye's muscles might atrophy a bit over the next while as North America faces a health scare over fresh, bagged versions of the green stuff that inevitably sticks between your teeth, making you look like a hockey player.

32 brands of spinach have thus far been yanked from grocery stores in the United States and Canada, to ebullient shrieks of delight from children everywhere. It seems the organic spinach was a bit dyslexic, not content to just be a tremendous source of Vitamin C, thinking instead that it was supposed to also contain Vitamin E.coli. Don't worry, kiddos, we can certainly fill that vacant spot on your plates with parsnips. Universal groans.

I'm just awaiting conspiracy theories that this is the work of Al-Qaeda and their quest to rid the world of leafy, green vegetable-eating infidels. Ah, plant the seeds of destruction...

And, in other late-breaking salad news, Faisal had, appropriately enough, sent me this picture of a bagged salad yesterday. And yes, that is a frog nestled inside. Ribbit. Surprisingly, it didn't croak. Not quite E.coli, but some unwanted protein nonetheless. Many similar-type hoaxes make their rounds of the Internet on a regular basis, so I tend to immediately be skeptical and look them up. Ah, joys from the immediacy the Internet provides a curious mind, read: geek. This one is, apparently, still inconclusive -- and there is precedence of frogs in bagged salads. Might be good with some French Dressing, though I'm not sure the lil' guy is certified organic. Still doesn't top my having a piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken in 1987 and finding that it still had two feathers attached. And yes, I ate it anyway.

One of my personal favorite Internet pranks was the so-called National Geographic Photo of the Year hoax where a shark attacks a military diver hanging from a helicopter. Yeah, because the Great White really lurks in waters under the Golden Gate bridge. As an aside, rumours of any sharks inhabiting those waters -- and hence deterring potential escapees from Alcatraz -- are also apparently false, the result of strategic storytelling by prison guards.

This has been a week the agriculture industry hopes we can leaf behind as they set to work raising new baby bib. Hopefully tomorrow will bring news of a different appetizer which is, well, more appetizing than today's.

Above: Charlie had a long night partying with the students next door. Needless to say, he was feeling a little worse for the wear this morning. Too much catnip. "Need me some latte. Purr-fecto."

Below: And on the heels of the spinach scare (and frankly, he's not overly fond of frogs, unless it's Kermit, either), Charlie's sticking with yogurt. Or at least sticking his tongue into it.


"Enough! No more, UD! Is that bloomin' camera permanently affixed to your hand when mom's not around? I'm shy. Really. And hungover. One more and I'm gonna' go Sean Penn on you. Is mom ever comin' home? Dang paparazzi. Where's my treat? I so need a latte."

Ripping off Victoria.

Alright, so I'm unabashedly plagiarizing from Victoria this time (visit her fine blog, Idle Thoughts and Random Links). And I feel fine about it. I had just found a couple of things I liked, so here they are for your viewing pleasure (and yes Victoria, you have already seen these somewhere...)

First, this to the right (--> that-a-way, silly) is just plain disturbing. But I want it. Sad. But where do I get it? Mr. Suicide bathtub Plug. Yike. For when you feel it's all going down the drain. When you're sinking (or tubbing, for that matter). Sort of a reverse hanging effect, bobbing away on the surface, waiting for Leonardo DiCaprio to say "I'm King of the world". Then ending it all forever to strains of Celine Dion.

The second thing, was a post listing life experiences where you bold the things you've done. In an effort to better get to know you, the readers, and for you to get to know me, the crackpot at the computer, here is my list (feel free to copy and leave yours in the comments section should you wish). Suddenly I don't feel so boring (though I AM sitting here on the computer. Still.) Discuss.

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins (fudge number 1: not sure how wild they were)
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped (too anti-climactic after number 50)
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all nightlong and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights (have seen parts, but would love to see them up north)
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg (does a glacier count?)
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby's diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon (only when tethered, so no)
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day (only a part of a day, but then, I'm like that)
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states (working on it -- up to at least 27 by car)
41. Taken care of someone who was sh*t faced
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales (fudge number 2: it was only one Orca, but it was wild)
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip (see here)
48. Gone rock climbing (I'm told I'm going soon)
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your cds (not to mention colour-coded closets)
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke (mercifully, no)
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Posed nude in front of strangers (again, mercifully, no)
61. Gone scuba diving (a dream, ahead -- bring on the reefs)
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced (Working on it, though still 'separated')
76. Gone without food for 5 days (riiiiight -- have you seen me?)
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an "expert" (well, radio)
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas (Reno, the poor man's Vegas, though)
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Had a one-night stand
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror.
96. Raised children (in process)
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour (one stop, many miles away...)
98. Created and named your own constellation of stars
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge (no, but drove it, or sat on it in rush hour anyway)
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived.
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Petted a stingray (RIP, Steve Irwin)
110. Broken someone's heart
111. Helped an animal give birth (Do people count?)
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery (how major?)
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi (Yum, Wonder Sushi!)
128. Had your picture in the newspaper (among others, ironically, while doing 32)
129. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school (soon)
131. Parasailed
132. Petted a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes (DVD was tougher to chew than the VHS though)
134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey (bloomin' English degree)
135. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (fish)
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146: Dyed your hair
147: Been a DJ
148: Shaved your head (see above, right)
149: Caused a car accident
150: Saved someone's life

Updated: 12/18/2007

Unexpected Charlie Update! Nothing like the headline, "Charlie Attacks" to send Vietnam Veterans everywhere a-scurryin'. A case of the elevens (apparently cats tend to act all crazy around 11 p.m., hence 'the elevens' -- discuss amongst yourselves), albeit about a half hour early for the favorite feline. Random tearing around the house, pouncing on, let's see here -- air. Ever the fierce hunter. Nothing says Big Game Prey like, well, a prowling, green backpack. Charlie says he was able to subdue the beast, which he feared to be a giant turtle. But a fast-moving one. Really.



Now calm, he has been playing peek-a-boo from behind the chair for about ten minutes. Ever bashful, that cat. "Where's my darn treat, UD?" And now, the loudest purr, like a rattlesnake, pacing figure eights between my legs.

I Believe I Can Fly. No, Really, I Can.

Considering my last double dribble was at Dairy Queen and the only traveling I've done lately is to Alabama, I suppose the saying would normally dictate that I say (in the hoop head vernacular, anyway), "Yo, I've got to get the mothballs off my game." Today, though, it seems my shoes could have indeed used the mothballs, having attracted a new winged friend for most of the afternoon (on the heel).

I'm really looking forward to the upcoming season and to the opportunity to defend 'the Chip' as Fat Joe would say. Not that I really give a damn what Fat Joe says. But then, I don't want to end up looking like him, either. And if I don't play, particularly as the tennis season sets, my body will do nothing but prepare itself for hibernation. As great as bears can be, that would still just be wrong. Of course, any aerodynamics-hindering-ness would have nothing to do with that non-drug-user version of the speedball: chips and chocolate. Mmm, performance dehancing drugs.

Eventually, the little guy grew tired of the odour emananting from my sleds and decided to do as the rest of us do: admire the traffic wandering through campus. I think he just needed to air out. Or maybe, he was looking for his mother.

Safe Travels, SCS.

Yes, more Google Maps. That'll be it for now, though, I promise; however, the SCS 2006 World Tour continues today with her first stop in Detroit, Michigan before eventually proceeding to Nairobi, Kenya. In a couple of days, it's on to Mwanza, Tanzania, home to some of Charlie's distant cousins ("But, I'm a fierce hunter, too, UD. Even without my front teeth.") Anyway, travel safely, SCS. Help make the world a better place. Then, come back to us.


Above: Amsterdam, Holland.
Below: Nairobi, Kenya. I love that you can see the clouds over Nairobi. And shadows from them, too.


Below: Mwanza, Tanzania. From above, it looks almost like an uvula (don't be such a dirty cad -- that's the thing hanging in the back of your throat).


Speaking of Sir Charles, he just came out of the closet (again, no, not that way) after a good play/stalk/curl-up. Yawn. Now, there are butterflies to hunt -- an homage to his heritage "Butterflies, shmutterflies, I'm going for big game now!" he insists, eyeing the catnip. Hm, catnip -- looks like he might just fit in with the students next door after all if you know what I mean.

Boggled by Google. On a Blog.

Alright, so I am by no means completely technologically illiterate, but advancements in our world still never cease to amaze me. The whole purpose of this blog, after all, is to provide me with an opportunity to learn a bit more about blogging, not to mention actually see if I can somehow remain dedicated to maintaining one. Well, that and to have another creative outlet for writing and posting pictures. Plus, all the cool kids are doing it. And I aspire to be cool. Okay, not really.

It's with this in mind that I spent much of the evening exploring the planet on Google Maps. Google -- now parent company to my blog (well, Blogger anyway). And likely the Disney of the next generation. Big, slightly inbred and somewhat frightening. It's not as though I had never used Google Maps before, nor that I had never seen digital hybrid maps, but I was still somehow even more captivated tonight as I drilled down to an incredible level of detail in these maps. It almost felt dirty, the extent to which you can continue to zoom in. Good evening, Big Brother. It was additionally fascinating because I've always been interested in a sort of non-sexual form of voyeurism -- watching people and seeing their differences. Their quirks. Their nuances. Their subtleties. Writing is all about the subtleties, you know.

And here in Google Maps, I could pick any location in the world, take a road trip on the digital super highway and spy on a different corner of the world. Alas, digital jerky just isn't quite the same. Street map, satellite map, hybrid. All in all, an incredible amount of detail. It all stemmed from clicking on my blog visitor map (that's you, folks!) in the tracking mechanism (welcome back, Big Brother!) and seeing where you are all from. Or at least where the tower for your ISP is. Almost creepy, n'est-ce-pas?


Above: The Petronas Towers, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. This was the first major building (or set of buildings) I checked out and couldn't believe how clear the image was, right down to the shadows the towers cast over the downtown. A number of action movies have featured these towers, but somehow, staring at them from space has been more exciting to me.

Below: The Empire State Building, New York City, United States. I have a history with this building, and one that precluded my seeing very much of it. But the 86th floor is plainly visible in the Google Map (and doesn't necessitate my crossing paths with gunmen), as are people walking on the street below. That I can count the number of people crossing the street in front of the building from an image taken from space is boggling (and here, blog-gling). Especially when you consider this is what is publicly available. The NSA, my friends, can not doubt do this at a much closer level in real-time. Damn.

Below: We're just shy of the fifth anniversary of events at the World Trade Center and Pentagon on 9/11 that silenced a corner of our hearts forever. I have watched the planes fly into the towers over and over. I've watched countless documentaries about it. I've listened to the tapes. And it all still doesn't compute. When I saw the image below on Google Maps, I couldn't believe just how vast the devastation was. That's a pretty large chunk of Manhattan right there. Gone. Forever. And there were people all around that morning. Many people. Families. Fathers and mothers; brothers and sisters. Uncles and aunts; cousins and friends. A city scarred, but resolute.

I love the fusion of digital technology. From music to photography, I cannot believe how much the digital world continues to change. And shrink. There was a time, not too long ago, when people would never see another part of their country. Then came trains. And cars. But they still couldn't see other countries. Then came commercial aviation. Now, a couple of quick keystrokes and I can pull up a pretty good geographical layout of nearly anywhere in the world. And I almost feel dirty. But not quite. I think I'll just stick with amazed, waiting to see what innovations the future holds.

Back to School.

A lot of unhappy-looking students wandering to, and through, campus this morning. Oh, that's right -- it's the first Friday morning of the school year. After the first day of classes. And, more importantly for some, I am sure, the morning following the first all-out-rocking Thursday night of the new year. Never mind that 95 per cent of first-year students this year are still underage. By a lot.

I can say that the student ghetto was alive last night and has the scars to prove it this morning. Lawns everywhere, hungover. Even the squirrels were taking the walk of shame, the morning's bright sunshine stabbing at their brains like a thousand pins strategically placed in their eyes. Acupuncture frightens me.

Emily Haines. So, low.

Emily Haines, of the oft-cited Canadian alternative bands Metric and Broken Social Scene, hits us with her new solo album, Knives Don't Have Your Back. Piano = a good thing. A little more mellow than Metric's latest offering. Our Hell is, thus far, one of my favorite tracks of the year. Hands down.

Knives Don't Have Your Back

Outtakes.

I have had a few days back in Ontar-I-O to regain my bearings, as well as to hibernate a bit (though I watched a couple of suns set, and a few stars dance, while learning about blogging in Malaysia). Just in time to return from vacation and face the hordes of weary, post-labour day souls turning up their collars to fend off the small teeth of fall. Self-sharpening like Ginsu in preparation of the w----- to come. I love this time of year. I can smell it, touch it, taste it. And best of all, I can feel it to my core.

A few additional photos from the trip south this past week.

Huntsville, Alabama: Beauty is all around, waiting to be found. A piece of graffiti I found written on a white board that had been affixed to the red brick wall. Just seemed poignant as I poked around alleys in an otherwise empty downtown Huntsville looking at the architecture and details on the buildings.

Near the Kentucky/Tennessee border: Did I mention that it rained? Hard? I believe that this storm 'benefited' from the effects of Tropical Storm Ernesto threatening south and east of here. It was wet. Very wet. And this was when the visibility was still relatively good.

Tennessee: From the category of signs gone wrong (or "Signs gone Wild!"?), we first have the "Polk Motel", which -- yes -- is named for one of the country's former Presidents. I'd still think they could have named something a bit more prestigious for him. At least a Suites. An Inn, perhaps? With a motel, there are just too many jokes (or pokes!) to be made.

Alabama: That said, however, taking the cake are the Alabamans? Alabamians? (Yes, just looked it up; that's the correct offering for you trivialists.). Really, this one writes itself. And it's in the south, no less. Was there no thought put into that one? I can imagine the bank officer sitting there reading the business plan, snickering. With the number of strip joints I had seen advertised along my route, I would have been pretty disappointed to have pulled in here thinking it was somethign else and instead found that it was a 'Restaurant supply' store. At least it wasn't a carpeting depot.

Huntsville, Alabama: The store fronts (which were actually mostly lawyer offices) were really beautifully done with leaded glass and ornate designs.

Huntsville, Alabama.

Huntsville, Alabama: A pigeon decided he wanted to be a part of this one. The buildings were so neat that I found myself looking skyward during most of my visit. At least there was nobody around to relieve me of my wallet when I was there because I was doing more craning than, well, a crane.

Huntsville, Alabama: Which direction next? A few weeks until the next road trip, this one, however, only inter-province. Will be joined by a co-pilote this time, though!