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Ever-vigilant in the wee hours

bloody seagulls... almost as bad as penguins

5:30 AM. It starts quietly. In the distance, a seagull calls a warning and then is silent.

5:40 AM. The seagull calls again and is this time joined by two more. The panic is spreading.

5:45 AM. The original three seagulls are calling back and forth repeatedly, causing other nearby seagulls to cluck worriedly. A dozen or so distant birds can be heard doing the same.

5:50 AM. Every damn seagull in the city has worked itself into a frenzy of calling back and forth: “Aa-aa-aaa-aaaa-aaaaark-aaaaaark-aaaaaark-aaaaaark!!” (ad infinitum).

This is what I hear from my window before sunrise every single morning. You would think that, having seen the sun rise up daily, they would learn that there’s no need to panic.

Bloody seagulls.

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This Canuck can spell, eh?

As you may (or may not) have noticed, in this blog I favour the colourful aesthetic of Canadian spelling. In my defense, I consider it a matter of honour — I attempt to stay centred with my Canadian culture, and I will do so until I’m old and grey. If you’re sceptical, don’t be a hoser — check out this page on Canadian English.

Ande by thus goodly pointe forwarde, yon words be not a blog, but a “blogue”. Aye warrante it to bee ye truer forme of ye Englishe. Arrr.

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Like a rock

At the community centre, where the path by the soccer field meets the sidewalk, there rests a smallish boulder. There’s nothing remarkable about the boulder: it’s kind of irregular and greyish and doesn’t do anything other than sit there and be granitey. I can’t fault it for that, I suppose… rocks just aren’t into the active lifestyle.

Yesterday morning, as I passed the boulder, a woman stood regarding it in deep contemplation. Then a thought seemed to strike her. After glancing furtively left and right, she carefully bent over and planted a kiss on the boulder’s rocky pate. Before I was even certain of what I’d seen, she disappeared down the path.

What a tender moment, I thought. What would make someone take such interest in a rock?

Kiss RocksBack in her impressionable teenage years, I would guess, she must have seen some graffitti that changed her life. I can imagine her feeling a little lost and confused (as teens often are), turning a corner, and seeing the giant, spray-painted message, “Kiss Rocks!”.

The message must have hit home. From that moment on, I imagine she has always taken a moment in her day to spread love to the oft-neglected monoliths. As we all should.

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