Humboldt

In early April, a bus carrying members of the Humboldt junior hockey team collided with a tractor-trailer in rural Saskatchewan, killing 15 of the 29 aboard.  The kids ranged in age between 16 and 21.

It’s hard to explain what hockey is to North America, especially to Canadians. It’s backyard hockey rinks in the winter and road hockey in the summer. It’s those early morning hockey practices your mom wakes you up for at some ungodly hour in the morning because playoffs are around the corner. It’s watching Hockey Night in Canada on a Saturday night and listening to the familiar voice of Ron Maclean do the play-by- play. It’s as quintessentially Canadian as the frigid winter air and coffee double-double.

So Canadians–and many Americans–are leaving their hockey sticks out for Humboldt.  Rest easy, fellas. This game is yours.

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Photo courtesy of Mike Carter

 

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Here in Eastern Canada, we’ve been in a bit of a cold snap.  Lots of snow, and temps are hovering around -15c during the day to -20c at night. Most of us are starting to look like this:

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Buddy the dog is particularly upset.  He’s informed me that the amount of snowfall has exceeded the acceptable snow-to-butt ratio and he’d much rather go indoors on a clean carpet than endure freezing snow up his nether regions.  We were at an impasse for a while, then negotiated a truce where we walk on the little walkway under the balconies where there’s hardly any snow at all, and he can poop to his heart’s content on the bare concrete.

Buddy is 14 years old, so in dog years he’s 98 and therefore has senority over me. Or so he tells me.

Death By Dyson

Every fall, thousands of lady bugs or boxelder insects launch an invasion force against the south side of all the apartment buildings. The little buggers sneak in through the tiniest cracks and crevices if the windows or sliding doors are open and make themselves at home.  The only way of keeping them out is for we apartment dwellers to hermetically sealed ourselves inside until the first frost comes, which is usually November.  And having all the windows closed on a nice fall day makes me grumpy.

So I have a new plan.

For the past few weeks I’ve kept my sliding door open and camped out in front, where they congregate the most.  Then I turn on my Dyson and suck them up.  They never knew what hit them.

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The Terminator stands guard.  Buddy doesn’t care.

I stand victorious.

(Because I know you’re burning with desire to watch the bugs in action, here’s a video.  You’re welcome. 🙂