…and that’s how I ended up with the midget’s chimpanzee in the trunk of my car.
Are we… We’re live? We’re on?
*straightens tie*
Hello everybody! Welcome to my inter-net web-site! I’d like to tell you about something that’s been on my mind.
I like drinking decaffeinated coffee. People always say “What’s the point?”, but I like the taste of coffee, and caffeine doesn’t agree with me so good. It makes me a little… jumpy.
The problem is, sometimes when you ask for decaf, the waitress/server/barista will pour you a cup of regular coffee by mistake. If I’m getting drip coffee I might notice them grabbing the carafe with the brown handle rather than the orange handle, but that’s only if I’m paying attention. If I’m purchasing a decaffeinated espresso beverage, as is my wont, the magic brown powder typically comes out of one of two grinding machines which, from my vantage point at the cash register, appear to be identical. And once the beverage arrives, there’s no way to tell whether it is decaffeinated or not — until you drink it.
I believe the tall decaf Americano I consumed this evening may not have been decaf after all.
Sooooooooooooooo let’s write a blog post! It’s only been what, almost three months since the last one? Much has happened since then. I was telling you about being on tour. Good times. Oh, hey, remember how in that post I talked about weird coincidences that had happened, and how there was one that I couldn’t remember? Well, I remember it now.
We were on our way into Revelstoke when we were stopped by a flag person who informed us that the highway between Revelstoke and Golden had been closed due to mudslides. It was getting late and we were planning on stopping in Revelstoke for the night anyhow, so that sealed the deal right there.
When we checked into our hotel room we turned on the local news-ticker channel to find out what was happening with the highway. You know the channel, where it’s just scrolling text with ads for area businesses and the audio portion is a retransmission of one of the local radio stations. So we’ve got this channel on and suddenly we hear, “Are you in a band? Are you on tour?” We just stared bug-eyed at each other. It was just an advertisement soliciting artists for some local folk festival, but it felt like CSIS had tapped into the TV in our hotel room to broadcast a message directly to us.
Other tour highlights: the amazing food and hospitality at the Ironwood Stage and Grill. Ditching the band to hang out with the grandparents and catching a flight to the next show — that’s rock star style, baby. Driving the scenic Crowsnest Highway from Lethbridge to Hope.
Alas, all good things must come to an end. Jay Dunphy and the Religion is no more — at least, that particular incarnation. Between that and Annie Nolan and the Ringtones being on permanent hiatus, I am presently bandless. (Or is it “disbanded”?) But who’s got time to play in a band when I’ve got unpacking to avoid? Yes, that’s right, I’ve ditched my boring suburban dirt-cheap student-model two-bedroom basement suite with roommate for an exciting near-downtown more-expensive one-bedroom character apartment (without roommate, obviously).
James Bay is a study of opposites: retirees and young professionals, well-to-do and down-and-out, character homes and highrises, locals and tourists. On one of the first nights in my new place, as I’m unpacking boxes, I’m watching a group of men in their 20s play street hockey in front of my building. Vehicle traffic requires the players to frequently give way. “Car!”, they call out, and a car passes by. “Bus!”, and the bus rumbles past. A clip-clopping of hooves approaches, and — “Carriage!” — as a horse-drawn buggy and its amused passengers make their way through.
Furnishing my apartment has been more of a chore than should reasonably be expected. I’d like to say the universe is conspiring against my efforts to visit IKEA, but it’s really just been poor planning on my part. And why I’m fixated on purchasing furniture from IKEA as opposed to, say, a store that isn’t a ferry ride away, I have no idea.
I’m blaming my friend Jenny. She’s a bit of an IKEA nut. (She recently blogged about this story about the “Hostel IKEA” event in Oslo where 150 people were invited to spend the night on the mattresses in their showroom. She was jealous.) She’s in Ireland right now but I’ll be able to blame her in person when I go to visit next month.
Well, the caffeine is wearing off. Perhaps it’s time to hit “Publish” and call it a night. Tomorrow will be a busy day. I’m going furniture shopping. And maybe a side trip to Starbucks.
