Archive for the ‘Family’ Category

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Not A Ghost Story

April 26, 2010

We gathered in the basement family room, a grand space with big-screen TV, family portraits, a fireplace and fully stocked bar, to remember a loved one we’d lost. Friends and family, young and old, we were having an informal service, a quiet kind of wake. Our minister was an aging hippie who spent decades as a missionary on the Amazon, and he told us stories of how the Amazonian tribes deal with death and loss.

“What we must always remember,” he said, “is that she is always with us and always will be with us, watching. And sometimes, when the stars are right, you’ll know she’s with you.”

At that moment, from upstairs, came the voice of a little old lady: “Helllllooooo?”

It was a late arrival to the service, surprised to find an empty house. But it sure lightened the mood, and everybody laughed, which is the way she would have wanted it. The way I’d want it, too. Death is a serious business, but if your legacy is laughter, you’ve done all right in life.

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Still ROM Rompin’

January 27, 2010
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ROM Romp

January 27, 2010
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I Don’t Even Like Kittens

December 3, 2009

I’m not a cat person. Not in the slightest. In fact, I actively dislike felines. And they don’t like me much, either.

That being said, this is fun to watch

I think if someone ever bred a type of cat that stayed a kitten (or a dog that stayed a puppy), more people would have them. But that’s kind of creepy in a eugenics way … I think I’ll stick with our little fat hamster. She never gives me any attitude.

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Joining the Brotherhood

November 16, 2009

I had coffee with my second-youngest brother today. He’s in the process of moving here from Toronto as he recovers from that little accident he had earlier this year. You may remember me talking about it: he was hit by a train in the face, and lived. He looks better now than he did during the summer, although his facial nerves haven’t quite healed and he looks a bit like the Joker. The Jack Nicholson version, I mean.

Anyway, we were sitting in the coffee shop where they filmed that stupid movie Jumper a while back. In a strange twist, my brother worked on the post-production audio for that movie, and I was an accidental extra in the background of a Samuel L. Jackson scene, which may or may not have made the final cut. I don’t know, because when I watched Jumper I spent most of the film mostly thinking about hockey.

After we talked about how shitty Jumper was, my brother told me a funny story. He’s been living in a pretty crappy neighbourhood full of what appear to be members of a skinhead gang. They’ve been eyeing him for a while, as he’s big, tough and tattooed head to toe, and as a mixed martial arts fighter (currently on a break due to face-meets-train), he often carried his gear around with him.

I should point out that my brother looks like Vin Diesel in XXX. See, we’re African-Indian-Irish-Scottish, but it isn’t obvious, particularly to stupid people, that we’re a wee bit ethnic. Most people who do notice think we’re Italian or Arab. That’s what makes this work.

One day, one of them came to his door. This was the conversation:

  • Nazi: “Hey, man, nice tattooes.”
  • Bro: “Thanks.”
  • Nazi: “Boxing gloves, eh? You a fighter?”
  • Bro: “Yeah.”
  • Nazi: “You ever fight any fags or Jews? Any niggers?”
  • Bro (long pause): “I’m a fucking mulatto, asshole. You want me to fight you?”

The guy ran away. Ran. And now the gang steers widely clear of my pumped-up, tattooed and facially freakish brother and his boxing gloves.

Sometimes he makes me really proud, that kid.

Moral: Racists talk a good game, and they do a lot of damage in numbers, but one on one, they’ll run away every time.

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Porcelain Telephone

October 29, 2009

I wrote this in February, 2007, on an old blog. And by “old blog,” I mean MySpace. I forgot I’d ever written this, and it was fun to read again:

This one is a little personal …

There’s a stomach bug going around the family, and tonight was my turn to get it. It hit while I was giving my three-year-old a bath. So I just leaned over and barfed into the toilet.
Tom saw this and was immediately intrigued. He had his own bout of bellyblasts earlier in the week, so he’s become quite interested in the protocols of pukeology.
“Daddy,” he said from the tub, “What are you doing?”
I couldn’t answer.
“Are you looking at my poop?” he asked.
Now, have you ever tried to hold back laughter while throwing up? Not easy.
“Are you barfing?” he continued in his deep little-old-man voice. “I barfeded and Mollie (the dog) ate it. It was yucky.”
Still trying not to laugh.
“I see salad,” he said, and he was right, because I could see it too.
I was finally able to sit back and look at him. “Daddy’s sick,” I said.
“Why?”
“It’s that stomach bug,” I said.
Tom held up the toy he had with him in the tub. “It’s not a stomach bug. It’s a lizard with a blue face.”
Man, my kids are fantastic.

Update: Three years later, my kids are still fantastic, Tom still fires off perfect one-liners all the time, and stomach bugs continue to make the rounds.

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Hamster in Love

October 12, 2009

Yeah, it’s a trick, but finding it in YouTube made my daughter happy, and for a few minutes, I was the coolest Dad in the building.

My daughter loves her hamster, and the little thing has grown on me, too. I didn’t realize hamsters had personalities; this one does. Her name is Moonshine, she’s a little porker, and she’s gentle, quiet and friendly. She also looks just like the hamster in that video you just watched.