Like I said in the intro, I am
considering 2006 as the midpoint in my life. The big 50 will
hopefully arrive in May as Queen Victoria celebrates another long
weekend. This is my second attempt at writing this first chapter.
The first attempt was written last Friday on my way home on the
train. A few months ago, I bought a laptop and I thought I could use
the time on the way home to add to these pages. The only problem is
at the end of the trip (at the Ste-Dorothee station) I tried
to save my work, but somehow the save didn't work. So now I am
starting over and I can't even remember what I wrote for those 45
minutes. The other option for the train ride is to nap which I am
sure I will do also.
I don't nap on the way in to work on the train because I read the
Gazette but that could be short-lived. The reason is I believe I
have developed an allergy to the newspaper print. Either my age has
done it or in the new printing facilities on Upper Lachine road,
they have changed the inks used in the paper. Whichever one it is, I
sometimes find myself using a full little pack of Kleenex and I get
more and more congested as I open the pages more. As soon as I get
off the train I am fine and rarely have to blow my nose for the rest
of the day. It does happen on the way home, so it's not the people
of the train I am allergic to. It doesn't seem to happen everyday
either so it could be a colour issue with the paper. I will be
experimenting in the new few weeks, to see if the newspaper is
really the culprit. The very first person I talked to about this has
an allergy to newsprint so it's very possible that I have it too.
As you will notice if you keep
reading these chapters, I do have a tendency to go off on tangents,
as you experienced in the prior paragraph. Trouble is; I sometimes don't
seem to come back to the original subject. If you see any of these
endless side tracks, please be patient, I will try to eventually
come back to the subject. I will do this by inserting a detour sign
at the beginning of a tangents eventually it will be followed by an
End Detour sign. This will stop me from going on and on about
nothing. In my first draft that I lost on the train, I already had
two detours that I now forget but eventually they will come back to
me.
I am writing this chronicle for
myself but making it public though my website. It is not a diary but
just ramblings. One of the driving forces behind writing this comes
from the old adage you learn something new everyday. The
problem is that, at our age, we may learn something new everyday but
we only remember a small percentage of them. A case in point
 is
that last year I should have learned 365 new things, yet I come only
seem to recall one thing. That one thing is that there is only one
ear of corn on the corn stalk. As my friend Mike McK would say;
Trust me on this one. I was a big sceptic on this fact but after
visiting a few corn fields last summer I realized it was true. I
didn't find any stalks with more than one ear. You would think that
using today's genetic manipulation, someone could have come up with
a plant that holds at least a dozen corn. Maybe somewhere in the
world, this is being done but not in Quebec fields around here.
So in the realm of you learn
something new everyday, I will attempt to document the Learn
Onething New Everyday (LONE for short), this way I will not have to
rely on my memory to store these things I learn. Since it is already
January 8th, I will settle for 357 things learned in 2006. Of
course, I won't document every single thing I learn as many of them
would be boring but I will try to pick out the ones that are
interesting to most people (I hope). When you see the following sign
 it
means I learned one new thing.
I have one last warning. As with many
of my other unfinished projects, this particular one could come to
an end before the end of the year or maybe not even beyond chapter
one. I will definitely try to make it until May, at least I travel
by train until April 30th so it should be easier. I don't remember
learning anything new this weekend except the supposed 6th toe of
Marilyn Monroe but that kind of stuff doesn't count.
This is the second time I am attempting
to write this on the train. This time I am using notepad instead of
trying to write an offline e-mail. I should not lose all my text
today. I didn't.
Ok. Someone has already read my first installment and reminded me
that 50 is just a number. He's right, a big number, nevertheless
just a number. Unlike the Billy Crystal character who used to say
it's not how you feel, it's how you look. Since I don't ever recall
looking Mahvelous, I will have to settle on how I feel. Today's is a
Monday and you can only feel so good on a Monday.
This morning, I couldn't really test out my newsprint allergy theory
because I got a cold on the weekend so I couldn't blame the
congestion on the Gazette. It's the first time, I get a cold and
then a sore throat. My Sunday evening trip to Jean Coutu was well
worth it as I already feel 100% better. It's not enough to stop me
from playing my Monday hockey game. The good thing about Mondays
for me, is knowing there's a hockey game waiting for me at 5pm. It
makes up for having to get to work early in order to leave the
office early. There should be a detour here but I will wait to write
about the stigma of leaving work early, even if you are on
flex-time.
I
did learn one thing today about the medical situation in Quebec.
Actually, I knew it but this confirmed it. Remember the colonoscopy
I was talking about earlier. I phoned to make an appointment with a
referral back at the end of September. I was told to call back in
November because they had too big of a backlog. As the self
appointed King of Procrastination, I called back last week and left
a message. I finally got a hold of the secretary today. My
appointment, get this, is at 9:30am on September 21st, 2006 (nine
months away). That is just a bit ridiculous. This is just a routine
examination as prescribed by my new doctor. Last year, I finally was
able to find a doctor (a GP) who would take on new patients. So I
got my first complete physical exam back in March 2005 since 1992.
The only ones before that were for prospective employers. I guess I
was due and apparently it's something we should all do at our age.
The only medical problem I had before this, other than minor sports
injuries, was acid reflux. I think this was caused by a weak the
Lower Esophageal Sphincter (LES) that would allow some leakage of
acid up into the esophagus . A year and half ago, another doctor
prescribed a little pill called Pantaloc and that problem is now
history, unless I skip a couple of days of pills. That doctor, an ent physician, also told
me to change my diet to try to reduce the level of acid. Here is the
list of things to stay away from: Fried foods, fatty foods,
spicy foods, citrus fruits, tomato products, coffee, alcoholic
beverages, citrus fruit drinks, chocolate, peppermint and pepper. I
sort of gave up coffee because I don't really like it but since the
pills work so well, I haven't paid attention to the doctor's advice
much. Imagine giving up everything on that list. I hope my ent
doctor doesn't read this.
I will try to refrain from using people's name in these chronicles
because there are very powerful search engines out there that could
draw attention to certain people. I don't want my doctors to find
out that I may be fibbing to them when they give me advice. I will,
however, tell you the name of the doctor who is supposed to do my
colonoscopy because it is too funny. His name is Blum but the way my
referral is written, it could be Doctor Bum, so from now when I
refer to Dr. Bum you will know that this is the guy. My old friend
Marge and I had a good laugh over this nickname. But wait! There is
more. Today I got a fax from his receptionist confirming my
September appointment and his first name is Seymour. I can't make
this up. Kramer had the Assman and I have Seymour Bum who will
perform the intrusive act of examining my insides via what is
supposed to be an exit.
I don't think I will actually wait nine
months for this examination. I will probably go through a private
clinic and pay for it myself because it only partially covered by my
medical plan. I would rather get it over with than having to think
about it for 9 months. I read the information and consent form they
sent me. It looks a bit like
this. It actually says that Many people sleep during the
examination and others are very relaxed, comfortable, and generally
not very aware of the examination. Many who know me know that I
can fall asleep almost anywhere in any position. I often fall asleep
in the dentist chair while he is working in my mouth. Somehow, I
don't think I'll be sleeping through this unless they give me very
powerful medication. Of course, you have to be on an empty stomach,
so who knows.
I
have told a couple of people about this, but at my regular doctor, I
will call him Jeepy (GP) for short, I was sitting waiting in the
examination room (he toggles between two rooms). I am looking around
as Jeepy seems to be taking his time in the other room. As I look in
one corner of the room, I see 3 things. First, a box full of the
dreaded rubber gloves. Second, An open tube of
KY-Jelly.
Finally on the window sill, an already opened bottle of
Metaxa with about
a third gone. Why Metaxa? It seems like the obvious choice of liquor
for a prostate exam except I am not sure it is appropriate.
The second item reminds me of a funny story how a elderly woman who
had recently entered into an old folks home. When asked how the food
was she said everything was great except that she couldn't get used
to the taste of the Kentucky Jelly on her toast in the morning. Then
she showed the orderly the half empty pack of KY-Jelly.
I have finally got some time
to type up this next small installment. I have been either too busy
on the train do other stuff or worst still, one night this week I
didn't get a seat on train. Trying to use a laptop standing up could
be a challenge unless of course you get the proverbial perfect woman
standing next to you. I will let you use your imagination on this as
to not insult anyone. Anyway, the train is obviously too much of a
success. If you don't board in the first 3 minutes of the gates
opening (20 minutes before the train leaves) your chances of getting
seat are like your chances of finding a woman to watch your new
Three Stooges DVD collection with you.
One night I got on the train and I
really wanted to sit down because I had a hard day and I wasn't
feeling 100%. So I looked up and thought "Lord, take some pity on
me. If you find me a seat, I'll go to Mass every Sunday for the rest
my life and give up drinking. Miraculously, the next seat was empty.
I looked up and said 'Never mind, I found one.'
Anyway, I got another taste of my age tonight on
my walk to the Metro station as I turned onto St Jacques street, two streets
west of Greene. These guys in their early twenties were getting ready to push a
red Chevrolet Cavalier into traffic. One guy at the back and the other with the
door opened trying to push and steer. I told the kid get in the car and I will
help push. Then I asked where they were trying to go. The kid said the gas
station down the road on the corner of Atwater. That's a good four blocks for
those unfamiliar with the area. Within seconds we had the car going at quite a
clip and and thankfully we burned the red light at Greene, so we kept the
momentum. After 2 1/2 blocks I realized that I was having a hard time keeping up
with the car so I told the pusher 'you should be able to take it the rest of the
way' and I veered across the street to get to the Metro station. Although I play
hockey twice a week, I have a hard time running 2 1/2 blocks, let alone pushing
a 3073 pound car. (Obviously, I Googled the weight of a Cavalier and found a
curb weight and a gross vehicular weight of 3887lbs.). Anyway, when I finished
my daily good deed, that flashed me back to the many times in my youth when I or
my friends were in the same situation. I realized that I am not in that great a
shape. I know round is a shape, but not one you should have when pushing cars
down the street.
So I huffed and puffed my way to the Metro
station and caught an earlier Metro than usual (just made it) because of my run,
which means I got a seat on the train without having to sell my soul or make
foolish promises to the Lord. (does He have internet access?). So the moral of
the story, is do your good deed for the day, pray that it doesn't give you a
heart attack, and somehow you will get paid back.
The last time I unexpectedly brought my heart rate up like was also
a Friday afternoon two years ago. A little background info: on Fridays (and
Mondays), I play hockey at 5pm in Two Mountains. I have to catch the 3:45 train
at Central Station to make it to hockey. The 4:30 train just doesn't cut it.
When I get tied up at work I end up leaving later and when I get to the Metro
station, I know that I am too late to take the Metro to Bonaventure, so I hop in
a cab. The fateful Friday I boarded what is probably the only cab in Montreal
driven by a woman. 'Not that there is anything wrong with that.' When I paid her
in the 'tunnel' where the taxi's let off their passengers at the station, I put
my wallet in my coat pocket. As soon as I got out of the cab, I knew my wallet
was not in my coat pocket and had fallen into the back seat of the cab. By the
way, I rarely sit in the back seat of a cab but when a cabbie loads up his front
seat with piles of 'trash' to prevent passengers from using it, I sit in
the back. Immediately, I start chasing frantically chasing the cab but she does
not see or hear me. She then turns left on la Gauchetiere (an illegal turn) and
with me chasing the cab into traffic she continues on her way. The many people
on the street must be wondering what kind of a lunatic I am chasing down a cab
when there are many others available. This is not New York city during a transit
strike. Finally, almost at University street, she probably sees me or maybe
someone waves her down, I don't remember as my mind was only focused on one
thing. She stops, I opened the back door and casually said, 'J'ai oublié ça'.
Then I grabbed my wallet and rushed back to the train. I can guarantee you that
was the fastest I have ever run in my life and it was probably one of the
biggest adrenaline rushes I have ever had because my heart rate seems to have
quickly recovered.
Did not have much time for writing this week but here
is a short passage from a train ride home:
Those who know me, have certainly been subject to
at least one of my endless theories. Most of these are based on observations
from day to day life experiences. Many of those theories are meaningless and I
only use as conversation pieces or to get a laugh. They are always my own
otherwise I
usually start the sentence with; You know what THEY say. That is the sign that I
am only repeating someone else's findings. Unfortunately for my female
readers, a large percentage of these hypotheses are centered around the passing
of wind or other bodily functions. This is really a great subject and can only
be appreciated by a mere 14% of the female population while being enjoyed by
100% of their male counterparts. I will save my flatulence theories for later
in these chronicles although I will whet your appetite with just one for now.
In my middle managerial role, I have being
working in a closed office (rather than a Dilbert cubicle) for a better part of
20 years now and this theory revolves around this isolation. Theory #1 (of these
chronicles). If you want somebody to burst into your office uninvited, simply
pass wind with or without
sound. The time is takes for someone to enter your office is proportional to
vileness of the smell. If it does not smell, don't expect anyone. If in the
extreme unlikelihood that no one shows up, I recommend that your leave your
office. Close the door behind you. You don't want somebody to walk in and know
why you escaped. Then return to make sure the 'a-bomb' has dissipated. Do not
attempt to judge this without leaving the room for a least one minute. No
matter how bad the smell is, your own body's internal protection mechanism is
programmed to stop smelling your own air within 20 seconds of release (Theory
#2). Without this advanced mechanism, YOU couldn't even live with yourself.
Almost a month has passed since the first entry
in these pages. Sure, I should have learned a few new things. I did find out
that if you want to remove the caffeine out of tea, you dump the water out of
the cup right away and re-pour the water. This takes 90% of the caffeine out of
the tea. I am not sure why you would do that since tea doesn't have half of the
caffeine that coffee has.
I may have learned more until now except that my memory banks seem to have hit
some kind of limit. (Theory # 3) I believe that the human brain can only contain
a certain number of things. This is actually a pretty good design feature
because if you remembered everything, life would eventually get pretty boring.
That means that you would only have to hear a joke once and after that you would
have to interrupt everybody by saying I have already heard that. Imagine
remembering every movie you ever saw. Not just the fact you saw it, but every
detail about it. You would never re-watch anything. Surprise or twists are what
mostly what makes jokes funny. If you remembered everything, most jokes would
fall flat because you would remember some alternate version of it. Personally I
have a system to save using up memory for useless things. That's why I don't
remember too many details of things I see.
Here is an example of how to minimize memory usage in your brain. When you see a
movie or a show, take note of the title (shorten it if you can as to not use too
many brain cells). Then, using the binary system (as is yes/no) ask yourself a
few questions. Did you see it? What it good? Would I watch it again? Was there a
nude scene? Try to remember one (or two max) actors in the movie. This info is
all you will need in a few years when someone asks you about it. All this info
can be stored in about eight brain cells that, if you are lucky, will not get
destroyed on your next alcohol binge. So in twenty years, when someone asks you
about The Terminal for example, you can say; Yah, I saw it, it was OK but there
were no boobs and Tom Hanks has been in better movies. Any more details than
that and you will eventually run out of memory. So use your memory cells wisely.
A good method, is write things like this and then forget about it. You can
always refer back to things you have written. I know when I look back at some of
the things I wrote long ago, I sometimes ask myself; 'I wrote that?'.
On to another subject. I saw this on
Ste-Catherine street tonight and I need your opinion. This couple (early 30's I
would guess) is walking on the sidewalk going along their merry way. A young
rubby (bet you've never heard that) is sort of following them begging for money.
(This is good for me as I can now squeeze by without him turning to me.) Anyway,
the guy finally reaches into his pocket and gives the guy a 10 dollar bill. Yes,
not a typo. It almost looked like he was trying to impress his date with his
generosity because he made sure she saw it. My question is this. Has this guy
impressed the girl or has he just signed his life away. At least his life with
this girl. Can you imagine her in a couple of weeks asking her boyfriend for
something and he says no. I can just see the next line: 'You mean you won't do
this for me, but you would give a complete stranger $10. So what do you think?
Cool guy or Fool Guy?
By the way, I had a Dr.'s appointment yesterday.
The bottle of
Metaxa, now has two new friends, a bottle of
Manischewitz and a half empty bottle
of Taylor's Porto. Later, I will
write you my (conspiracy) theory about Doctors and the medical profession.
go to Chapter Two
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