Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Had one of those moments tonight that make you feel like a total heel (one of the many for me, I'm afraid--hey, someone had to say it). I was working away diligently on the laptop out on the couch, and the computer froze. The worst part is that I forget when I last saved. So now I'm stuck in that horrible state of having a frozen computer, wondering if it's ever going to come out of its coma, while at the same time trying to recall all recent changes to my document just in case it doesn't come back. I will leave the computer on in fond hope this evening, and offer supplication to whatever patron saint of frozen computers there happens to be. Here's hoping.

The moral here? Save your work often. I always do, too; this is one of the few times when I can't remember when I last saved, and I have this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that it was some time ago. Oh well.

In addition, can I ask an obvious question? Well, I guess that was one, but you know what I mean: when does freaking winter end in this freaking province?! Wednesday is the last day of February, heading into the lovely month of March, and yet, alas--there is no sign of winter's imminent departure. In fact, news of winter's demise was premature.

Yesterday, on the drive home from Edmonton, we got caught in a winter storm. Wind howling across the plain, hurtling at the highway with great vim and gusto, blowing billows of snow every which way, and causing the Alberta drivers to place their foot more firmly on the gas pedal in what I can only assume was a race to get home and out of the snow. Disgusting stuff. Today it got up to maybe -10, without the windchill, which kept temperatures at a balmy -17. What's worse is that it's expected to get worse again before too long. Seven more weeks of class. I'll just keep telling myself that, and hopefully it'll go faster.

Speaking of Edmonton--and here are the promised reflections of the weekend's trip--man, no matter how many times I go there, I just can't make myself like the city. I don't know why, but I just can't stand it. Nathan and Heidi live in a pretty decent neighbourhood, but it's still Edmonton. There's just something about the city that is missing some sort of essential element. It's like a poorly-done haunted house: you really want to be scared, and you give the actors credit for trying, but it just doesn't quite capture the essence of haunted housedom. Same with Edmonton--you can tell it's trying really hard, what with its many Tim Horton's locations and all, but it's just missing something. Maybe it's the inherent Edmontonian inferiority complex to its big neighbour, Calgary. In that way, it's like Vancouver to Victoria--one is clearly the more important city, but the other is the capitol (or is it "capital"?). No matter how much it tries to be like its brother, it'll never be its brother. Mind you, the five Stanley Cup banners hanging in Rexall Place lessen the sting, I'm sure.

There was one definite highlight to the weekend, though--I got to wash my car. "Ooh," you say, "Does the fun ever stop with you, Mark?" No, it really doesn't.

Anyway, the car was looking like a ratty old dog that had been left outside in the mud for a year, and I was beginning to be a little bit self-conscious about what kind of image I was projecting. But alas, this weekend I learned the fine art of the self-serve car wash.

It's a silly idea, really: pay to wash your own car. But it's surprisingly cathartic and just a little bit addictive. At home, you've got okay tools; maybe you have a nice sponge and some hot, soapy water you got from the kitchen tap (as was the case growing up and being forced to wash my parents' cars with a toothbrush or face being deprived of food for the week. Okay, I made that last part up, I confess). At the carwash, you've got a high-pressure nozzle that liberally sprays warm water on the car, and a large scrubbing brush that dispenses foam like it's going out of style. For those who want to give their car the best.

The thing is that it's a race against time. You pop a loonie into the machine, and, just like the vacuum at the gas station, you get a limited amount of time to use whatever feature you choose (and the amount of time is sorely inadqueate, at least in my opinion). I got our car done for $3, but I was racing the whole time. Nathan's car, a Volvo station wagon, took $4; when we drove in, there was a guy washing his Escalade, which must have taken quite the toll on the loonie collection. He probably didn't mind shoving a couple extra loonies into the machine, mind you, considering his ride.

I have to say, though, I'm firmly sold on the self-serve car wash concept. It's substantially cheaper than the gas station ones, and, although you don't get to experience that singularly unique feeling of sitting in a car while in a car wash, you also don't leave behind half your paint and most of your bumper because the pressure is set to "pulverize." Good deal, I have to say.

Of course, while we were in Edmonton, we had to hit the world-famous West Edmonton Mall, once the world's largest, and now just somewhere on the list. How ignominious is that? "Once the world's largest." Sounds so, I don't know, melancholic. Like the old man who sits on the porch regaling the youngsters with stories of his wild youth, which the youngsters beleive nary a word of, the WEM sits on the Edmonton landscape as a testament to its former glory. "It all started with the Mall of America, sonny, and it just went down hill from there. But in my day, I was the best mall in the world, don't you know." Sad.

Still, we gave it the ol' college try. Went in on a mission to buy some rechargeable batteries sufficiently adequate for our digital camera (which apparently consumes battery power at roughly the rate of a supermodel's cocaine consumption--apologies for the lukewarm cultural reference), and emerged with precisely nothing. All those stores, and nobody has rechargeable batteries on sale? For the love of puppies.

We did manage a good mall food court meal, though. It's funny how the fact that it's one of the biggest malls in the world certainly doesn't mean the food selection is adventurous or even heterogenous. I'm pretty sure there were three different Chinese restaurants and two Greek ones, along with the usual suspects (Arby's, Taco Bell, KFC (don't call me "fried"), Taco Time (standing a respectful distance from its larger and cooler rival), DQ, McDonalds, and the like). And among all those, do you think any of them served a simple Vietnamese salad roll (for my wife, not me)? Not a chance. In the end, it was Arby's for me, and Taco Time for the wife--they have tater tots, Taco Bell doesn't (I just realized how ridiculous that statement sounds; in a world where many go hungry, we're making food decisions based on what kind of fries the Mexican place serves). Good times.

And that pretty much concludes the Edmonton visit. Had a Sunday afternoon nap, which was very refreshing, ate pizza for dinner, had ice cream for dessert, got in the car and headed home. Through a storm.

By the way, I know you're all clamouring for the return of the 24 analysis and sardonic commentary, but I'll have to save it for tomorrow, since I am, alas, downloading the show and not watching it on my fuzzy TV (we're at 76% complete right now). Some days are good reception days; others, not so much. Today happens to be the latter, and I'm sorry, but I have to watch it in all its glory in order to fully appreciate the experience (and be able to suitably mock it). I must say, last week's plot twist at the end in bringing back Charles Logan was unexpected. Also, I didn't expect them to find out the father was the real villain until at least hour 20, so I'm glad they ended that thread quickly. It gets tiring to have some variation of the mole storyline every year.

Another moment in last week's show--no, wait, I think it was the week before--that was entirely predictable was the revelation that the guy we've thought was the bad guy all along isn't actually the main bad guy. Turns out the crazy Islamofascists were actually working for a Russian guy who wants to bring back the days of the Cold War and rewrite history so that the USSR wins. Interesting, if not entirely feasible. Something tells me that an Islamic ideologue wouldn't care to be the lap dog of a grizzled Soviet general, but that's just me. I guess I just don't understand Islamic fundamentalists like I thought I did.

Hey, I managed to work in some witty commentary right there. All is not lost. Consider it a little teaser for what's going to come tomorrow when I get this puppy watched.

With that, another posting is wrapped up and in the bag. Thanks again for coming by, and I'll see you tomorrow.