A Saint John Adventure

Saint John has been presented as a city of adventure and while this self-proclamation  may make it seem as though there hasn't been a whole lot of adventure since the 1800s, officials seem intent upon living up to this title.

As the snow falls outside the studio, anxiety builds as I recall the last snowfall accumulating something in the vicinity of 10 centimetres.  Lack of preparation combined with a seemingly slow response make travel by car, bus or foot an enterprise not for the faint of heart.

Over 39% of city sidewalks are not maintained during the winter months.  I am not certain why any of this is acceptable in an already pedestrian-challenged city.

The city has a discernibly infinite number of positives and the potential for the future is enormous, but pretending everything is wonderful maintaining the status quo does not help bring that potential future to fruition.

I want more for Saint John.  Do not mistake mentioning areas where improvement is possible as a lack of respect for doing so is a catapult for change - and change is good.  We need more catapults.

Stay safe, Saint John, and if you slip on the ice, get back up and keep to your path.

Don't Inhale

"Tiffany, it's Aunt Judy."

This is the start of the message I found on the studio's answering machine when I opened this morning.  Perhaps a month ago the same lady left a similar message for Tiffany on our line, but this time she left callback numbers along with her message of love for her niece.  There seemed genuine notes of concern and longing in her voice, so it may be a nice idea to phone and let her know she is using the wrong - or out of date - number to reach out to her family member.

There seems to be a heaviness about people this holiday season, a burden of tension that I've not noticed before.  Conversation has often turned to health concerns - "How long have you been vegetarian?" "How often do you run?" "Do you smoke? Have you ever? I used to, but like Bill Clinton, never inhaled."  These are the sorts of comments I'm hearing more regularly now.  Inquiries that acknowledge that there is a shadow of doubt about choices both past and current.

Walking about Saint John sees many down-turned eyes, people with thoughts elsewhere.  Just  entering Brunswick Square, doors don't get held, smokers are gathered around every exit (can anyone share what the smoking legislation is here in Saint John?) and many are on edge.  Just try using a crosswalk without experiencing the death-stare of a pissed-off taxi driver or walk the uptown sidewalks without having to surrender your space to someone unwilling to share the concrete.

Anxiety without a positive action begets anger.  I am going to keep trying to invoke a force of positivity in my environment, however insignificant it may seem and I encourage others to do the same.  It's not easy, especially when holding your breath to avoid noxious fumes as you pass that "no smoking" sign.  Cigarette smoke is dangerous - read the packages - but inhaling negativity affects so much more.

How to Defend your Manhood with Chanel

I had a rather vivid dream last night and I am reaching out for help to understand its meaning.  I have no access to professional help, if it's even needed, so my mental well-being lies in your hands.

Holly and I had a somewhat substantial role in a celebrity soccer match.  The teams were sprinkled with professional European footballers and every day people donated money to charity for the chance to play with these stars.

The game was close, ending with me scoring the winning goal in extra time on a penalty kick.  Holly insisted it was set up similarly to when the Harlem Globetrotters help a nine year old kid from the audience slam dunk a basketball, but I know it was my innate ability as a natural athlete, even if they did give me a second chance after I missed the ball on my initial kick.

Anyway, that's not the weird part.  After the game Holly needed to rejuvenate and retired to a quiet room to rest.  After obligingly accepting my congratulatory wishes, I entered this room to find her laying with her back to the door on a daybed with Gilles seated behind her, kissing the back of her neck.

Gilles was one of the celebrity players - French, suave, graceful, in possession of that rare ability to do everything effortlessly, with style and power.

I knew I had to act quickly to defend her honour and my manhood.  Holly regards me as her protector, so I knew I couldn't let that image be tarnished.

Any of you familiar with my blog knows I'm a bit of an athlete myself.  I've twice completed the 10 km portion of Halifax's Blue Nose Marathon and almost made it to the starting line of this year's Marathon By the Sea here in Saint John.  Of course, I also starred for the Armdale Executioners street hockey team.

Not wanting to end Gilles' soccer career, I decided to try to avoid giving him the physical thrashing he really deserved so, from my jacket pocket, I produced a sample size vial of Chanel Bleu.  You know what I mean, those little glass bottles that spray minuscule amounts of fragrance on you.  The bottles that look remarkedly similar to the vessels that contained precious stink-bomb fluid often used by unruly young boys.

As Holly whimpered lightly beneath his advances, clearly mistaking his soft lips for mine, I stealthily sneaked up behind him and pumped two squirts of the venomous liquid into his eyes.

He looked at me with the terror a coyote sees when bearing down upon a young rabbit and blinked a little.  The ingredients Chanel uses for their wares were apparently not as formidable as I had hoped.  Holly, confused by the commotion, turned to see Gilles' mildly irritated eyes, mistaking them for tears of sadness and then angrily assumed that I had done something to hurt his feelings and make him cry.

It was then that I awoke to voluminous feelings of anxiety and fear.  Holly is concerned that this is happening far too often and insists I look into counselling, but I told her I could handle it myself.