A Moving Moment

Yesterday, Cuppa was summoned by Butterfly to help put some finishing touches on the nursery. Company is coming next weekend, so although Smudge is not due for two months, it was time to more or less complete the decorating. No doubt, Cuppa will want to fill you in on all of the details, and since I have no idea what the details are anyway, I won't even try.

Often, when we drop in to see the kids, we'll first make a stop at Tims and take an offering with us. The photo shows me with travel mug in hand. What it doesn't show is my favourite afternoon choice, a blend of hot chocolate and coffee — with double cream of course. Mmm mmm good.

But get a load of Butterfly's cup on the dresser! Do you think she had a craving, or what?

Anyway, the gals did their thing while the boy and I watched tv, ate chips, and drank Diet Coke. Then, we all had pizza and watched the hockey game while playing Trivial Pursuit. At some point in time during the evening, Butterfly said, "Dad, I think if you put your hand right here and are patient, you'll feel the baby move." So, I did. Butterfly placed her hand on mine, and Smudge kicked or elbowed (probably elbowing as it was hockey night in Canada from coast to coast to coast) from below, three generations of Clouds coming together.

Three generations. The moment moved me.

A Night to Remember

Colour me surprised that some of you have asked about the concert. This guy thought that just about everyone was probably sick to death of my harping on about the concert and The Rankins. Well, maybe you are and are simply being nice.

On the other hand, you might be wondering why I haven't posted some sort of report already. It's hard to say, really. For whatever reason, I don't feel much like writing all of a sudden. That happens to me periodically — much to the relief and joy of thousands tens of bloggers. But I'm determined to make the effort this morning ... on which I didn't get out of bed until ten o'clock. While I'm not exactly an early riser (not a lark, I), it's pretty doggone unusual for me to cower under covers until such an indolent hour.

So ... so ... here's where I get bogged down because I don't know quite what I think. Perhaps I am a little disappointed after all of my expectations. That happens, doesn't it? At least it does to me. I go to a movie that I hear is great, and I am disappointed. I go to another flick somewhatgrudgingly because someone else wants to go, and I end up really liking it.

Here's the thing. It was held in an arena. So, right away, the sound quality takes some beating. I mean to say that nobody sounds as good in an arena as they do on a well-mastered studio album. And the seats were not at all comfortable. They were tiny with neither elbow or leg room. My seven-inches-shorter-than-I-am wife felt cramped by the lack of leg room, so you might imagine how confined I felt. As I ponder the venue, I am inclined to vow never to attend another concert in such a place. But I can't quite induce myself to go that far because I might. Yes, if The Rankins were to make another Reunion Tour (that's what it was called) in five years time, I might do it again (but I would try desperately to secure an aisle seat). There are also one or two other artists for whom I just might (or not) make an exception.

So, I guess that last statement tells you that, reservations notwithstanding, I am very, very glad that I went. They did a great job of performing old, new and varied songs for two solid hours without a break. The opening act played for about a half hour. It was a British guy, Seth Lakeman, who had a great voice and was a wonderful musician, but neither Cuppa nor I could understand a word that he said with his accent. He might as well have been speaking Spanish or what have you. But I was still impressed. I mean to say that most people can't understand what half the bands are nattering on about anyway. After the warm-up, there was about a 20 minute break before Jimmy, Cookie, Raylene, Heather and the rest of the band came onstage for their long, but seemingly very, very short, performance.

Yes, despite the unfortunate seating, time flew as the band delivered one wonderful rendition after another. In addition, Cuppa and I were tremendously fortunate to be seated near a bunch of enthusiastic kids, many from Cape Breton. While the majority of the audience was not young, there were also lots of exuberant youth in attendance. They hooted and hollered and their liveliness made the concert even more enjoyable. For the last song of the pre-encore part of the concert, on some sort of pre-arranged signal, a whole gaggle of these kids pranced to the foot of the stage and danced their way through The Mull River Shuffle. What a party that was!

That was right after the most amazing and touching rendition of Rise Again by Raylene who almost literally raised the rafters. She put everything that she possibly could into that song, so much so that it almost sends chills down my spine to recall it. They lost their brother, John Morris (a member of the band) in a car accident a number of years ago and their sister, Geraldine (a member of the initial Rankin Family group), just as the tour was to begin. They actually missed their first gig to attend the funeral. So, the song was fraught with even more meaning than usual, and, as I said, Raylene was absolutely awesome on it. (Rise Again is the song available in the sidebar if you haven't clicked on it ... and you haven't).

To top the evening off, we exited to a magical looking snowfall, not a heavy fall but a very pretty one. The magic was enhanced further when we still saw some people skating as we drove alongside the canal at 11:00 pm on a fine winter's night.

So, yes, the venue notwithstanding, it was a rather wonderful night. In addition to their music, they are just down home, aw shucks, uninflated ego, salt of the earth types. There wasn't one silly hat to be seen on the stage and no sunglasses or other sartorial nonsense, Some musicians don't need to distract you with buffoonery in order to entertain and enthrall you.

Bless you, Rankins, for a night to remember.

More about the Canal

Some of you may have scratched your heads when I mentioned walking around the canal in my previous post. "Why would AC want to walk by a canal in winter?"

Well, you see, in winter it turns into one long skating rink, almost 8km (or 5 miles). I don't think I had ever seen them skating on the canal until last Sunday when we happened to be in the same area as where the concert will take place tonight. In our first winter in this region last year, the canal wasn't open to skating for most of the season; it was simply too warm. This winter started the same way before we got locked into the freezer. Brrr!

Anyway, on Sunday, we did get to drive alongside the canal for a while, and it was terribly delightful to see hundreds upon hundreds of people enjoying the invigoration of the day. We didn't seem to chance upon a good spot to take a picture, so I've located one form the internet for you to get the idea of what I am nattering on about. Don't you think it looks magical?



There are even concession stands on the ice in places. Look here to see a photo. In fact, if you click the photo, it will take you to more pictures of this area in winter. It's probably worth a look.

Meanwhile, the concert's tonight!! I'm hardly excited at all. I'm sure you believe me, eh?

Bittersweet is a Taste

It's almost here. The Rankins concert is tomorrow, and I am partly excited and partly forlorn. That may sound strange, but, after seven years, this is strictly a one-off reunion for the family band, and that makes me a touch sad. Maybe sad isn't the right word; perhaps I am simply being maudling and sentimental. Also, if I had my druthers, we'd be doing this on a fine spring or summer evening when we could take in a leisurely dinner and then walk around town and/or the canal. As it is, we're in a deep freeze, so I think we'll confine ourselves to simply taking in the concert — make a night of it, so to speak. Maybe what we'll do is go out for a bit of dinner locally before driving into the city. That way, we'll still get out for dinner but not have to search around in the bitter cold for a suitable dining spot since we don't know the area very well.

I suppose that all sounds a bit like the glass is half empty, but it's not really. I'm just feeling a bit wistful; it will be a somewhat bittersweet evening, I think. But that's a taste isn't it: bittersweet? And I plan to savour it on my tongue, both the bitter and especially the sweet, for that too is life.

Meanwhile, I've posted another of their songs, Rise Again, in the sidebar (press play, I've turned autoplay off). It's another great song, and the lyrics are below.

When the waves roll on over the waters
And the ocean cries
We look to our sons and daughters
To explain our lives
As if a child could tell us why

That as sure as the sunrise
As sure as the sea
As sure as the wind in the trees
We rise again in the faces
of our children
We rise again in the voices of our song
We rise again in the waves out on the ocean
And then we rise again

When the light goes dark with the forces of creation
Across a stormy sky
We look to reincarnation to explain our lives
As if a child could tell us why

That as sure as the sunrise
As sure as the sea
As sure as the wind in the trees
We rise again in the faces
of our children
We rise again in the voices of our song
We rise again in the waves out on the ocean
And then we rise again

We rise again in the faces
of our children
We rise again in the voices of our song
We rise again in the waves out on the ocean
And then we rise

How Does That Jar Ya?

I continue to be jarred by that ... er ... bottle of mayo that I mentioned a few posts back in Maybe I Really Am Dyslexic . You know the post where I described turning the lid the wrong way at first and breaking the opener when I exerted so much force on it by trying to reverse my error?

The jar's been sitting on the counter ever since. Today, SIL dropped by, gently twisted the lid, and it almost flew off in his hands. While one is tempted to feel very foolish under such circumstances, it brought to mind a similar situation when I was the hero rather than the goat.

I was in my first year of high school — grade eight. I wasn't exactly large and robust back then. In fact, I didn't have my growth spurt for another year, not until after ninth grade. Funny that one of my previously larger friends chose that summer to stop trying to goad me into wrestling matches. I had usually accounted for myself reasonably well when I was quite a bit smaller than he, so perhaps he was wise to desist when I became the larger fellow. But, once again, as is my habit, I digress — forgive me but one memory leads to another.

The memory that I strated to unravel was the one time when I was the lid removing hero. A friend and I were hanging around after school, and another guy whom we didn't know brought an ink bottle over and asked if we would try to open it. Neil tried and failed. I tried and opened it just as easily as SIL did today. The kid looked at me with some surprise and respect and said that he had taken it to all sorts of guys who hadn't been able to budge it. No doubt, at least part of the surprise stemmed from the fact that I was one of the littler guys to be offered the opportunity.

I know that it was simply the bottle's time to give it up, and I was just the next guy in line. It felt good though: much better than it did today watching SIL open the mayo so durn easily.

An Irate Consumer

Is it just me, or do things like this provoke others too?

In Canada, We have a chain that sells boxed, frozen meats and other items. It's called M&M Meat Shops. We have never done a lot of shopping there but do drop in from time to time to purchase this or that. In fact, I dropped in just yesterday for such a purpose but will probably never do it again.

They had those frozen, skinless boxes of chicken breasts on sale, and, since we usually keep a box in the freezer, I decided to pick one up. However, it was not to be.

You see, I had to have one of their silly Customer Club cards to take advantage of that particular sale. "Oh it's free, and you can have it right away." I shook my head in perplexity and walked out sans chicken.

It's the principal of the thing. It's so stupid to make you take out a membership to purchase an advertised, on-sale box of chicken. What's the point? It's just plain silly and wrong, and I can't be bothered to play thier ridiculous little games. For one thing, I don't need one more card to keep track of, and, for another, I don't need one more company keeping track of me.

So, I am without the chicken, and they are without a sale and without further custom from this consumer. Presumably, a company advertises a special to attract customers and widen their clientele, so, how does alienating customers assist in this pursuit?

I'm actualy a fairly even-keep kind of guy who doesn't get terribly upset about too many things, but stupidity bothers me, and I am still shaking my head in utter frustration at sheer folly of this particular policy of M&M Meat Shops.

Foto Friday

Time away from Blogger gives me time to work on photos. You may recall seeing a black & white version of the first one, below. I have tinted it in Photoshop. According to my memory these are something like the original colours, but my memory may be faulty. Men aren't all that great at recalling clothes, doncha know?



This one is supposed to resemble a stamp (please stretch your imagination for ole AC). Lanark is the county in which we reside.



Of course, you have seen many photos of Rocky. In the next two, I am playing with matting and framing.





The backyard from the bedroom window.



Neighbourhood winter scenes taken on recent walks.