Heartiest of congratulations go to my dear friend Stephanie who today became the proud owner of a slightly-used iBook.





This specific iBook she bought is a 500MHz G3 with a 10.1GB HDD. Not too shabby. And at a very reasonable price (for a Mac). I have spent quite a bit of time with the Mac goons at Light Computer Centre and they've been very kind and accomodating. I would recommend them highly.

Now, I have not yet been converted to a real "Mac Person," but I'm beginning to feel a wee little soft spot in my hard, hard, PC heart for these very very agile little notebooks. Hmmm covety. It's a shame I'm in the grips of such poverty at the moment.

Today's been an interesting day. Rainy and wet and all-round ugly outside, my spirits have been buoyed by Strange Events™, namely an Omavisit, a Macintosh shopping trip, and the rearrangement of time itself.

At 2am, In an MSNweight conversation with my dear sister, I decided to join her, my mother and my uncle on a trip to Brampton's venerable Holland Christian Homes. The purpose of our visit was either to enjoy the best lima-bean salad in the Greater Toronto Area, or to visit our Oma. OK, guess.

(On a side note: if it really is illegal to yell "FIRE!" in a crowded theatre, ought it not be equally illegal to yell "Hi Oma!" in HCH's crowded dining room?)

The visit with Oma went well. We saw her, she saw us. She communicated with my mother and uncle. They relayed that she was glad to see us. We nodded and smiled appropriately.

True to form, I found something to fix. Actually, I went a little crazy. I fixed the leg on the back of a family photo so that it would once again stand on its own. I installed and configured her new "Extreme 40db Ampliftying Telephone" because Oma is getting rather "doof" these days. I found sticky name-labels to identify her various wheelchair accesories as her own. Put up a handy reminder note for those stafflings who are responsible for getting her out of bed in the morning. Tried to fix her electronik supersonik adjustible recliner.

Of note was her comfortable recognition of her own mortality. Specifically, when I brought to attention a candle-shaped-like-a-bear that is a bona fide family heirloom, she asked (through her translators) if I wanted it when she died.
Uhh, weird. I don't talk like that. My friends don't talk like that. There is no recognition, beyond the academic point, that people die. I wonder if she noted my discomfort at her question. She didn't shelter her offer in a nest of hems and haws. She didn't dull her point with forced levity. Out with it, in a manner free of self-delusion.
Why does her death scare me? Because it highlights the inevitability of my own death? Why did I edit the previous sentence half-a-dozen times to ensure the tone wasn't too dark? If indeed we have any comfort in death, why must we run so hard from it?
I know I'm not raising any novel questions. I know I'm not even close to having "learned my lesson," but in the light of Mr. Postma's recent post, I thought it bore reflection.

This, I think, is why we need to visit Omas.

Got back to Hamilton safe and sound. Decided to stop by Light Computer Centre on Locke Street. I'd been there once before to get acquainted with Macs and to make inquiries for Steph (the one looking to buy an iBook). Lo and Behold, there appeared in Applish Glory as if illuminated by Halogen, the mystical iBook Within Budget™. Later I visited the VanKampen-Zantingh-Biesheuvel Blended Familyspace and reported to Stephanie all that I had seen and heard. Verily, her excitement is great.

The downside of all today's activities has been that while I was "shushing" the smoke detector in the kitchen, I somehow knocked my watch from the counter to the tile floor. The crystal, band, clasp are still in fine shape. Strangely enough, the shiny silver digits inside the watch have come unstuck. The Two from the top of the dial has taken hold of the second hand, and is choking it with every fibre of its being. the Three and the Six are engaging in all kinds of kinky behaviour at the bottom of the dial and the Nine has ascended to the Higher Realm, making noon appear Nineteen O'clock. I do hope a jeweller can fix this. I really do.

Saw the Flattstreet Jazz Quintet last night at the Pepperjack Café, and all i can say is... wow.

Of more-than-significant note is their lead vocalist. She makes the group a sextet. Really. Here's a pic of their vocalist:

Musically, this group is phenomenal. They don't have any gigs lined up right now, but if they do, go.

You comin' all up in here saying I can't point to pictures on your server? Baby, that don't faze me. Triple T knows how to play the game.

I have beaten the odds and have my own Googlewhack!

Buckyball Strongbad. That's right folks. Beat that!

Yet another scenic shot taken at Little Bow Provincial Park while we were staying there. Amazing.

Mike and Nancy were kind enough to host us in Calgary for a night not long ago. Great people. Thanks again guys!

Yes, folks, the hippest-of-the-hip, my cousin Will. To be fair, this photograph was taken VERY early in the nineties and I'm sure that he looked Very Fashionable™ at the instant the shutter snapped. Who's the Pouting Princess anyway?

This is a picture of my mother and I when i was nine years old. This was taken at Balls Falls near Huntsville, ON

Introducing Mr and Mrs Tim and Jessica Brand, whose wedding I helped at today. Very good wedding indeed, and amazing how many people i knew at the ceremony.

Introducing Mr and Mrs Brian and Nicole Dijkema, the hottest couple ever.

Elsewhere on this Blog you may find pictures of, or references to, a dance known as "the Sod." This new dance sensation is the product of one part sod fanaticism and one part ethyl alcohol. This, the majestic mating dance of the male Soddicus Domesticus originated during the Dijkemas' wedding festivities.

Join Now! The "Michael Moore's An Ass" re-education bus will travel from sea-to-shining-sea informing clear thinking folk that they don't have to buy into Moore's tripe.

With regard to the headline, I don't mean that I shink Moore ought to be locked up because of his mistaken political view. I want him locked up for being a perfect ass.

Introducing Kelly, the world's cutest and best behaved four-year-old. And my cousin once removed.

I find it remarkable that the kid featured in the top picture is the same as the kid featured in the bottom. May I introduce to you Daniel, my roaming little brother.

Poor Bun. This is what he gets for getting frisky with my sister. Hah. Wait a sec, that's not it at all.

Here's a picture taken in Winnipeg of my lovely sister and her dear ex-roomie Kristie.

Apparently some contortions were required to make their heads appear both equally sized and equally elevated. Shanna tells me that she had to crouch down low and stand two feet ahead of Kristie so that they'd have approximately matching craniums. There's a science to this, you know.

I suppose most would interpret this as a warning to those riding motorcycles. After twenty-some hours of driving it can be construed as a warning about being impaled in a painful manner. Only in Manitoba folks, only in Manitoba.

The Sod Boys doing the Sod Dance. Seriously folks, this happens.

The Honourable Mr James Q Brink, fellow loather of Michael Moore. Many thanks to this man for his direction on getting my comment system to work properly and for his help violating the blogspot terms of service with clever little boxes.

This was the first and last time i saw Whistler. Note how I am not yet a snowboarder at this point. Feel with me the injustice of it all. 
Posted by BvO

Here's an ealy childhood image from New Westminster, BC when i was (i think) seven years old. Good times.