Harbour Terrace Canada Day BBQ Blues: Tuesday, July 1st!

One is happy as a result of one's own efforts once one knows the necessary ingredients of happiness: simple tastes, a certain degree of courage, self denial to a point, love of work, and above all, a clear conscience. -George Sand [pen name of Amantine-Aurore-Lucile Dupin], novelist (1804-1876) 

Hi On-the-Road Brenda Louise!

Are you, in fact, back in Kamloops? When did you return? Thought about you and Picasso week ago, this past Sunday. Every year the Harbour Terrace Strata has a dinner for the executive and significant others. Hosted by Joanne, at her lovely suite on on fourth floor, we enjoyed hors d'oeuvres and drinks on her gorgeous patio before sitting inside for wonderful steaks, (courtesy of Council funds!), bbq'd by Sarge, with salads, vegetables and dessert contributed by everyone. Not to mention plenty of wine! Will need to ride 200 km rather than 100 km next time I'm out!

The Misanthrope (analysis)

Art: Pieter Bruegel the Elder, 1568

 At any rate, one of guests, Gillian, is quite involved with various pet rescues and if I'm correct, is currently caring for five, yes five, African Greys! I enjoyed hearing about the birds, of course, and mentioned your "Star" and some of his antics. Few days later she sent along two of the snaps I've included. Apparently Smokey dismantled her garage opener, inadvertently left on kitchen counter! I've suggested to her that the Strata hire him to work on the parkade garage door as it seems quite obvious that the Grey is far more capable than the dopes working for the company hired to maintain the motor and chain mechanism!

Anyway, if you are around on the 22nd of this month, perhaps we'll pop in to say hello. Let me know and we'll plan accordingly. Fondestos from Coriandre to you and Wally, and Picasso, of course! Cheers, Patrizzio! Pics: Smokey and his work!

Happy Canada Day!

Hi Gillian! Not sure if you received these snaps. Quite enjoyed the pictures of Smokey and his work! Cheers, Patrizzio!

P, thanks again for the invite to share a dinner with you. I apologize for our state of mind here -- being so frayed that we cannot respond promptly.

The only day that will work before you head to Fondo pre-training is next Monday evening - the 7th. I understand that this may be awkward for you so please don't change any plans or schedules to accommodate us.The gals move Friday and will be locked onto packing until then and unpacking all weekend.
 

Loving her water table from her uncle Marv and auntie Nicole!!

We can also defer to another more convenient date later int the summer. I intend to be in town at least once a week until my BC bud cop matures...W  

Hello Allied Van/Box Cutter/Packing Tape People!

Trust this missive finds you all knee deep in bubble wrap and Styrofoam chips! Know how very busy you are so thanks for suggesting the 7th. Unfortunately, that date won't work for us. Cora Lee has an important Church Council meeting that evening. Otherwise, I would have been more than happy to delay my departure for Naramata until the following day. Given your all-consuming, frenzied packing/unpacking activities this coming weekend, might you consider coming here for an early dinner on Sunday evening, if that might make life less kranky in case you can't find any cooking implements at either your new or former residences? 

I assume you will still need/want to have dinner or sustenance of some kind, at some point. Timing would be up to you. I'm sure the NRBC wouldn't mind watching us eat! Anyway, please consider this but only if it does, as I mentioned, make things easier for everyone.

Presuming Giorgio will be attending the NRBC, (If not then perhaps we need to rethink that gathering.), after meal Kerry and Tia Maria could leave whenever they, (Mom, actually!), felt the need to so do, or stay and visit with The Islay Inn Sisterhood. Cora Lee has asked me to add that everything will be very casual so nothing to worry about in terms of bringing anything other than your appetites. You can even set the sustainable menu! Again, let us know and we'll plan accordingly.

On the cycling front had a simply grand ride with Robo Man yesterday. He met me at The Heartbreak Terrace and we proceeded around Science World to SP. Pleased to find that the hordes had not yet left their beds to clog the Seawall and we encountered very few pesky pedestrians. Experienced a bit of Burning Ground panic when we came upon a chap feeding Canada Geese and had to gingerly thread our way through a large flock of the bread seeking avians!

Other than that all went very smoothly. Day was beyond compare and our spirits were ebullient as we whistled along the Low Level Road, (paying not the slightest heed to the innumerable NO CYCLISTS ALLOWED signs), to soon find ourselves on Cotton which turns into Main. 

Had a bit of a trouble, necessitating innumerable forced dipsy-doodles, crossing Main Street at Mountain Hwy as the lights there are very pedestrian/bike unfriendly, dangerous, actually. When a cyclist on opposite corner invoked a walk sign I dashed across but had to wait for a few more light changes before Robo Man was able to join me, circling as I was, near Oxford St. (On way back I realized that we should simply have stayed on Main, heading east, and that would have taken us precisely where we wanted to go!)
 

From there we made our way to Fern, following same approach as we'd take to go to Seymour Demo but turning onto Mt Seymour Pkwy instead of heading up Lilloet Rd. Almost immediately took a right onto Seymour River Pl but were unable to find ingress to Dollarton Hwy. (Map shows access so need to investigate further on another outing.) Decided to return to MSP and just as we did bumped into another cyclist who told us to make a right on Riverside Dr, next set of lights ahead. Thanked him and did just that, following it until we crossed Old Dollarton Rd which itself leads into Dollarton Hwy and we were finally en route to Deep Cove!

Lovely views of the water and the three or four hills weren't as daunting as I had imagined they were going to be. Has been quite a few years since I've ridden this route, on my Brodie, at the time, so I suppose with the Trek and increased distances under my belt, these climbs have become less challenging. Still a good push. Close to "The Cove" itself I told Robo Man that I was going to turn around. (He had said, initially, that he was going to put his bike on the back of their car for return home.) I suspected that the village might be very busy, given it was Canada Day and I had no wish to become enmeshed in the crowds celebrating there. He was to meet Sylvia and her kayaking friend at 11:30 am. 

We were ten minutes head of schedule so all was well from timing point of view, both for Raymondo and myself. It had taken us just under two hours to get to where we were and I knew I needed to be home by 1:30 pm at the latest, in order to discharge my own Canada Day responsibilities for our building bbq.

Thanking him for terrific ride, I made my way back, retracing our earlier route. However, cogitating as I swooped down the lovely hills, passing the Tsleil-Waututh Nation,cemetery where Chief Dan George is buried, I was torn between returning via Lions Gate or Second Narrows.

Decided upon latter as I really didn't want to face crowds that I assumed would be congregating along Seawall by the time I reached the West End. As well, I was concerned about timing and knew I'd be home sooner if I took Ironworkers Bridge. Few strategic dipsy-doodles to put myself back on Mountain Hwy and I was soon climbing the west side of the bridge. Pretty fierce cross wind so I plugged away, not in any real hurry as there were a number of other, slower cyclists ahead of me. Bikeway is so narrow that it is virtually impossible to pass anyway. 

As things turned out, due to fact that east side is closed, due to construction, two north bound riders very kindly stopped and squeezed themselves up against inner railing to allow us unimpeded passage. Thanking them for the selfless act which allowed me to escape, yet again, The Dreaded Burning Ground, (or should I say "Air" since we were high above Second Narrow!), I continued on the bridge and once over, opted for the McGill St Exit as oppoed to the dedicated bike path as I noticed quite a few other riders and pedestrians "clogging" the narrow, hairpin pathway below. Traffic was relatively light. 

 Don't think I'd risk this route otherwise.At any rate I didn't have any difficulty rejoining dedicated bike path near New Brighton Pool and once past Maple Leaf Self Storage I was soon on Wall St. Thought of calling Chloë as I passed her place, just off Powell but didn't want to text and ride! Once on Clarke I took a right onto Venables to turn onto Vernon Dr so that I could avoid all the traffic on Clarke. Vernon takes one back to Clarke, up a fairly steep, short incline, onto the wide sidewalk on the bridge over the railroad tracks and I was then back on Central Valley Greenway. 

It was about 12:40 pm by then and since I only had about 60 km on the clock I decided I'd add another ten by doing a loop of the industrial area on both sides of Terminal Ave. Did just that and then made for home, along 1st Ave to arrive at close to 1:15 pm or so! Very, very pleased with grand outing, discovering, or perhaps, re-discovering, route to Deep Cove, and Raymondo's company. Even made it back in time to avoid the Wrath of The Sisterhood! Stats for ride: 

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/532598532#.U7MWNrIa0sQ.email

Had a shower and changed and then put together the Avocado Egg Salad we were contributing to the bbq, while Cora Lee was making turkey burgers for ourselves. Around 2:30 pm we started setting up on the lawn on the east side of the building, up from Sutherland's place. Had all sorts of silly games for anyone who wanted to play croquet or ladder toss rather than drink and chat! Sarge and Kid Chelene hauled his bbq up the slope from their patio and he used that to grill all the food others brought for themselves. We had picked up a large Happy Birthday Canada cake at Costco so we had that as dessert. 

 Great to visit with people one often sees but never really seem to have time to talk with, in passing. Chloë had another engagement so we didn't see her. 

Let me know about Sunday as well as possibility of a ride tomorrow. Cheers, Il Conduttore! Pic: Rider is sipping Cucumber Gin martini!

Hi Patrick, Corinne and Chloe. Great to hear from you!  Sorry that the  card that was written May 20th arrived so so late.  I can't blame Canada post as I didn't have your postal code and I think that really screwed it up.

Have a wonderful trip to Manitoba and we look forward to catching up with you in Sept. Wasn't sure if you had seen this Happy Birthday Canada youtube or if Colin sent it to you:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t41wNkGvJ9k    Enjoy! 

Rebecca Frazier Happy Canada Day. To all my fellow members working today... 

That was a good parrot tale. He looks not a bit sorry either! That is a tremendous task you have set yourself both in Whistler and Penticton . I am confident you will do extremely well what with those averages you are achieving. We would go and cheer you on as we have good friends living in Penticton now but Dana's friends are putting on a shower for her. 

Right after that we are going to spend some time at her place painting and setting up the nursery. There are curtains to hang and furniture to assemble and floors to strip and clean. Unfortunately we won't be around for your congratulatory return. Disappointing for us surely. We couldn't compete with the fine cuisine your friends provide. What a feast! Happy Canada Day. I will continue this email after charging as I am down to 4%

From River of Doubt by Candice Millard. The Amazon river has three thousand species of fish -- some as strange as any on earth -- compared to only 375 for the Mississippi and Missouri rivers combined. The most feared is not the piranha but the tiny candiru:

"The Amazon river system is a prodigy of speciation and diversity, serving as home to more than three thousand species of freshwater fishes -- more than any other river system on earth. Its waters are crowded with creatures of nearly every size, shape, and evolutionary adaptation, from tiny neon tetras to thousand-pound manatees to pink freshwater boto dolphins to stingrays to armor-plated catfishes to bullsharks. 

By comparison, the entire Missouri and Mississippi river system that drains much of North America has only about 375 fish species. ...

"Certain Amazonian fish, such as the tambaqui, have evolved teeth that look like sheep molars and are tough enough to crack open even the hard, cannonball-sized shell of the Brazil nut. The ancient, eellike South American lungfish has lungs as well as gills. Unless it surfaces every four to ten minutes for a gulp of air, it will drown. During the dry season, however, while other fishes around it die as the ponds and streams dry up, the lungfish survives by burrowing into the mud and taking oxygen from the air. 

Still another species, the so-called four-eyed-fish, has eyes that are divided in two at the waterline by a band of tissue. With two separate sets of corneas and retinas, the fish can search for predators in the sky above and at the same time look for danger in the water below. ...

"There are electric fishes that eat nothing but the tails of other electric fish, which can regenerate their appendages, thus ensuring the predator a limitless food supply. Other fish have evolved to eat prey that live outside of their own immediate ecosystem. The three-foot-long arawana, for example, has a huge mouth and a bony tongue and can leap twice its body length. Nicknamed the 'water monkey,' it snatches large insects, reptiles, and even small birds from the low branches of overhanging trees. ...

 "The fish that inspired the greatest fear among the men was the piranha. Attracted by blood and drawn to the kind of commotion that a bathing man might make, piranha have been known to swim in groups of more than a hundred, spreading out to scout for prey and then alerting the others, probably by sound, when they find it. Of the approximately twenty piranha species, most prefer to attack something their own size or smaller, and they are happy to scavenge, especially during the rainy season, when there is more to choose from. However, their muscular jaws and sawlike teeth, which look as if they have been filed to tiny spear points, can make quick work of a living creature of any size and strength, from a waterbird to a monkey to even an ox.

"As terrifying as the piranha were, many of those who lived in the settled areas of the Amazon would have preferred them to the tiny, almost transparent catfish known as the candiru. This sharp-spined fish is the only other animal besides the vampire bat that is known to survive solely on blood. Most species of candiru are only about an inch long, and they usually make their living by swimming into the gill chambers of larger fish. To other fish, the candiru is relatively harmless, because, when full to capacity, it simply swims back out of the gill chamber and burrows into a riverbed to digest its blood meal. To humans, however, the miniature catfish is a potentially lethal menace. When it comes to parasitizing people, a very rare occurrence, the candiru's modus operandi is to enter through an orifice."

The River of Doubt: Theodore Roosevelt's Darkest Journey, Candice Millard, Anchor Books, 2005

From Cubed by Nikil Saval. By the mid-1800s, that strange creature, the office worker, was starting to be more and more prevalent in American cities. The 1855 census recorded clerks as the New York City's third largest occupation, behind servants and laborers. The office worker didn't seem to do or make anything, in fact, he seemed to do little but copy things. But the emerging class of office workers wanted to differentiate themselves from mere laborers, and the best way to do that was through their attire:

"[In America in the 1800s, there was] the sense that office work was unnatural. In a world in which shipping and farming, building and assembling, were the order of work, the early clerical worker didn't seem to fit. The office clerk in America at the high noon of the nineteenth century was a curious creature, an unfamiliar figure, an inexplicable phenomenon. Even by 1880, less than 5 percent of the total workforce, or 186,000 people, was in the clerical profession, but in cities, where the nation's commentariat was concentrated (who themselves tended to work in office-like places), clerks had become the fastest-growing population. 

In some heavily mercantile cities, such as New York, they had already become ubiquitous: the 1855 census recorded clerks as the city's third largest occupational group, just behind servants and laborers.

"For many, this was a terrible development. Nothing about clerical labor was congenial to the way most Americans thought of work. Clerks didn't work the land, lay railroad tracks, make ammunitions in factories, let alone hide away in a cabin by a small pond to raise beans and live deep. Unlike farming or factory work, office work didn't produce anything. At best, it seemed to reproduce things. 

Clerks copied endlessly, bookkeepers added up numbers to create more numbers, and insurance men literally made more paper. For the tobacco farmer or miner, it barely constituted work at all. He (and at that point it was invariably a he) was a parasite on the work of others, who literally did the heavy lifting. Thus the bodies of real workers were sinewy, tanned by the relentless sun or blackened by smokestack soot; the bodies of clerks were slim, almost feminine in their untested delicacy.

"The lively (and unscrupulous) American press occasionally took time to level invectives against the clerk. 'We venture the assertion that there is not a more dependent or subservient set of men in this country than are the genteel, dry goods clerks in this and other large cities,' the editors of the American Whig Review held. 

Meanwhile, the American Phrenological Journal had stronger advice for young men facing the prospect of a clerical career. 'Be men, therefore, and with true courage and manliness dash into the wilderness with your axe and make an opening for the sunlight and for an independent home.' Vanity Fair had the strongest language of all: clerks were 'vain, mean, selfish, greedy, sensual and sly, talkative and cowardly' and spent all their minimal strength attempting to dress better than 'real men who did real work.' ...

"Clerks' attire was a glaring target for the barbs of the press, since the very concept of business attire (not to speak of business casual) came into being with the mass appearance of clerks in American cities. 

'In the counting-room and the office,' wrote Samuel Wells, the author of a 'manual of republican etiquette' from 1856, 'gentlemen wear frock coats or sack coats. They need not be of very fine material, and should not be of any garish pattern.' Other fashion advisers pointed to a whole host of 'business coats,' 'business surtouts,' and 'business paletots,' which you could find at new stores like Brooks Brothers. Working-class Americans would be seen in straw hats or green blouses; what distinguished the clerk was his collar: usually bleached an immaculate white and starched into an imposing stiffness. 

But collared business shirts were expensive, so stores catering to the business customer began to sell collars by themselves, half a dozen collars running to under half of what a cheap shirt would cost. The white collar, detachable and yet an essential status marker, was the perfect symbol of the pseudo-genteel, dual nature of office work."
 
Cubed: A Secret History of the Workplace, Nikil Saval, Doubleday, 2014