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Oh, Canada!

Would it be terribly un-American of me to be more excited by the Canadian elections held yesterday than the upcoming Presidential Fun House and Pie-Eating Contest that awaits us in November?

Well, if it is terribly un-American, then stuff it. I find Canadian politics to be much less depressing than the goings-on in Washington, D.C. Plus, I like the Liberals and the NDPs... so many Canadian parties are socially progressive... hell, manyt Conservatives in Canada look like moderates compared to neo-Cons here in the U.S.

How would you divide 308 seats?
Liberal Party: 135
Conservative Party: 99
New Democratic Party: 19
Bloc Quebecois: 54
Other: 1

Sure, it's a minority government. Z thinks PM Martin needs to hit the road. I'm more concerned about rumors of a third referendum on Quebec independence coming in 2009. Yikes.

Congrats to you Canadians out there. The future still looks bright!

Paternal Instincts

Z with his boss' son, Saturday, at the Dyke March. Paternal Instincts: Running high.

Impromptu

Seattle Pride was this weekend. A great time... but more on that later.

I live across the street from this man and his partner. I'm honored.

Oh, and I also got my ear pierced (again!) this weekend... at Sin City in Capitol Hill by a man named Sweet Sweet Ted (and he really is sweet, too!). To be specific, my upper left cartilage now has a hole in it. And Sweet Sweet Ted offered to reopen my lobe piercing and give me a matching one on the right ear, too. I'll see. This man was truly kind. My nerves were already frayed, especially since this whole ordeal was impromptu (Z: "What should we do before the Dyke March?" Me: "I could go get my ear pierced.") - But Sweet Sweet Ted was so nurturing that I was about to propose marriage by the end of it all. Z took some photos, so I might post some hilarious shots of me before the needle was even brought out (I have a deer-in-headlights-and-sweaty-palms expression that could win me an Oscar... except the feelings were genuine).

Do I look nervous to you? Affirmative.

The ear looks okay. But, it's tough not sleeping on my left side.

Yikes.

One

One year ago today, I set foot in Seattle. Alone. Stupid. Nervous. Buick packed with my dear belongings (Nintendo, books, that damn gray sweater).

Happy Anniversary, self.

The Fourth

Yes, I indeed must come in Saturday to do a little lab work... yes, I must also get up early Sunday to help Z get some stuff ready for the parade... but why complain?

I'm the proud owner of Season Four of The Simpsons!
(With such classics as "Marge vs. the Monorail", "Lisa's First Word", and "A Streetcar Named Marge"... Yeeha!)

Taxation Without Representation

Z forwarded an e-mail message he’d received the other day from an old colleague who moved to Washington, D.C. some months ago. The mass e-mail urged all Americans reading it to write to their representatives in Congress and urge him/her to support a bill for Congressional voting rights in the District of Columbia. Some say the bill, which doesn't give full Congressional representation to the capitol, is currently the best way to ensure that residents of the federal capitol get SOME full representation in the legislative branch.

But is it?…

For anyone unfamiliar with the situation, here’s a lesson in American government. Thinking Caps on, people:

Article I of the Federal Constitution sets up the legislative body of the American federal government, creating “a Congress of the United States which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives.” Article I, Section 2 describes members of the House, who are elected every two years by “the people of the several States.” Representation in the House is based on population, with every state guaranteed at least one Representative (Congressperson), and other states getting more of the 435 seats based on the most recent census. For the Senate, Article I, Section 3 promises two Senators per state, regardless of population. The 17th Amendment to the Constitution specifies “two Senators from each State, elected by the people thereof, for six years.” (Previously, state legislatures had appointed Senators.) Thus, currently, with fifty states, the Senate is composed of 100 members, with the Vice President acting as President of the Senate.

Pretty sweet deal, if you’re a state. But, the District of Columbia is not a state. A territory? Sort of. Unlike another “famous” U.S. “territory”, the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico, D.C. citizens are able to vote in Presidential elections (thanks to the 23rd Amendment to the Constitution, giving D.C. three electoral college votes) and pay an income tax annually to the federal government. There’s the catch: Congress levies taxes. But the Constitution contains no method for the citizens of D.C. to elect representatives to Congress. Granted, they elect a Delegate to the House of Representatives (just like Puerto Rico and other federal territories), but he or she has no voting power outside of a committee. Taxation without representation? That’s what the D.C. license plates say. The War of Independence rhetoric of “No taxation without representation!” is alive and well on the north shore of the Potomac.

Washington, D.C. is a bit unique in American history. A planned city, put deliberately near the meeting of North and South (as far as the original 13 colonies are concerned). Thus, no side (north or south) could claim the other has more influence in federal affairs. Geographically, the capitol sat in between the cultural divide that existed at the time (and perhaps persists today, albeit in a slightly different form). Taking land from Virginia and Maryland, Virginia won back its lands just south of the Potomac River several decades prior to the Civil War (I believe they now make up tiny Arlington County). The Maryland-derived lands that currently make up the District now have a dilemma: we pay taxes, but we have crap for power in Congress.

Does it matter? The District of Columbia has over 500,000 residents, more than the State of Wyoming (which sends two Senators and one Representative to Congress). I say a Delegate is not enough. They may get to vote for the President and Vice President, but they need real teeth for legislative affairs. This “in the middle” status for D.C. (more powers than a territory or commonwealth, but fewer than a state) seems infantile, at best. Do one or the other. Either take away the three electoral college votes and (come tax time) say “thanks, but keep your money” OR let them send representatives to Congress.

I somehow doubt the federal government would want to deprive itself of billions of dollars in income taxes it would get in the future from Washington, D.C. Thus, let’s give them some Congressional representation. I say if two Senators and one Representative work fine for Wyoming, then do the same for D.C. That, apparently, has been tried time and again, though. Some don’t like the idea of giving a non-State the rights of a State. Others (particularly Republicans, it seems) note that D.C. is heavily African-American and traditionally falls to Democrats in local elections… thus, full Congressional rights for D.C. might add one Democrat to the House and two to the Senate. To those partisans, I ask, what if D.C. went Republican in the next decade? Would your opposition subside? As you blush, I’ll rest my case.

Some argue that representation in the House would be sufficient. One out of 435, since D.C. is not as populated as California, New York, Florida, or Texas. They’re an Alaska, or Wyoming, at best. In fact, the bill that Z’s friend was drooling over would temporarily increase the House to 437 members, giving Utah an extra seat (which would probably go Republican, thus alleviating fears that D.C. would elect a Democrat) while D.C. gets a full representative. But, what about the Senate? The Senate and the House do not necessarily share equal powers. The Senate, among other duties, must confirm cabinet-level positions, certain federal positions, and all nominations to federal courts (including the Supreme Court). The House has the power to impeach, but impeachment trials are handled by the Senate. Since the powers between the houses differ, I say at least one Senator is needed, bringing the Senate to an awkward 101 membership (and pretty much rendering the Vice President’s tie-breaking vote moot)… so two would be preferential!

They’ve tried this before, including D.C. statehood through an act of Congress, an Amendment to the Constitution (it got through Congress and sixteen state legislatures before dying off after the seven-year deadline due to fears that D.C. would elect Democrats to Congress), and a bill introduced twice in recent sessions to give D.C. as much representation (again) as Wyoming. Will this new “halfway” (one House, no Senate) bill work? Maybe. But is it worth it? I say no. Enough of this halfway bullsh*t. A halfway territory/state didn’t please anyone (look for the Washington, D.C. license plates). So why go halfway with Congress? It might get through, but does that make it right? Two Senators, one Representative, and quit b*tching.

James of the Jungle

A particularly attractive new product representative from Amersham Biosciences came in the lab this morning to introduce himself. Since I know sh*t about science (I'm good at pretending), I recruited a fellow labmate to talk with the tall, dashing gentleman.

Unfortunately, this brave labmate could not keep me from missing my chair entirely and falling on the floor.

Fifteen minutes later, as the particularly attractive product representative was leaving, I went to open a door, missed the handle, and ran smack into said door.

Hindsight

Driving home from Target...

Me: "Hey, look at the car in front of us. They have a Starfleet Academy sticker on the back window."
Z, joking: "Don't worry. I'll get you one of those soon enough."
Me: "Yeah, right. I'd just tie you up with it."

In retrospect, I shouldn't have said that. I think he's still excited by the idea. But, is he excited because it's bondage, Star Trek, or both?

Far from the Madding Crowd

Think of me in half an hour... for, you see, when it is ten o'clock in Seattle, it will be noon in Missouri... and at noon, in Missouri, on the Solstice (how mystic...), I will gain a stepmother.

As I told my mother yesterday, I try not to be surprised by much anymore. This ordeal as showed me that yes, indeed, life can be just plain weird. But, I can cope: the new library downtown has practice rooms available with pianos (well, full-sized keyboards, but who's complaining?), there is ice cream in my freezer, and I am over 2,000 miles away from the madness.

John Ashcroft's Worst Nightmare

The Summer Solstice approaches... only one day away. But, the celebrations in Seattle began yesterday:

Z and I rose early (grumbling...) and made our way to Fremont after breakfast. The crowds had already gathered along the street in anticipation of the Solstice Parade. We steaked out our Small Section of Sidewalk, I applied sunscreen, and we waited.

Sure enough, as noon approached, the clowns dodged up-and-down the street, the police closed off Leary Ave., N. 34th St., and Northlake Way... and the nude bicyclists rode in. Men and women, fat and thin, young and old: in only sunglasses and helmets (safety first!), bodies painted in any and every design possible (perhaps I'll post some snapshots later once I can wrestle the camera away from Zach), riding gleefully down the street. Native Seattlites told me later that the number of nude bicyclists was significantly greater this year (50?... I'm only guessing). Maybe it's the weather (85 gorgeous degrees Fahrenheit), maybe it's community bonding and the festive anti-Bush atmosphere (read on), who knows. The paint designs were spectacular, though! And, if you're gonna have public nudity, I do assert that, "It takes all kinds." I was most grateful to see all body types and ages represented. Only one or two Adonis types were present.

Purple?...

The Ringleader.

Perhaps I should note here that, from what I know, the nude bicyclists are not "officially" part of the parade. The cops, apparently, gently look the other way, as they lead the parade; and apparently, once they reach Gasworks Park, they don shorts or bathing suits, and then ride back through the route with the actual parade participants. But still, as we watched, Z and I both thought, "Only here... only here could it happen."

Nice use of color! A+ for you.

My personal favorite.

James: "What a coincidence, boys! Blue is my favorite color, too!"

Only here could a pagan parade, being led by nude painted folks, be led out as Family Fun. And it was! Whole families were there! The streets were packed! Folks from Everett to Olympia drove in! Children in tricycles rode next to their parents. After the bicyclists came a parade of belly dancers, clowns, pagan costumes, gymnists, streamers, bubbles, a hot troupe of young twentysomethings clad only in kilts mooning the crowd, no-longer-nude bicyclists, candy, beads - the Works! Home-made floats, folks shouting "Happy Solstice!" at the top of their lungs.

Lovely Egyptian design.

I swear, the whole thing could be summed up as John Ashcroft's Worst Nightmare. Public nudity, pagan rituals, folks celebrating a natural celestial event, and all with families around enjoying it. Perhaps I exaggerate the Attorney General's devout Protestant beliefs. But, even if he tolerated the two Adonis young men who rode past us just before the parade clad in nothing but navy blue body paint from head-to-toe (except, of course, for the sunglasses and helmet), the homosexual couples attending with their children, the home-made floats of dragons, elephants, and pixies, I believe he would've objected to the rampant anti-Bush atmosphere. It is organized by Fremont, after all - a Seattle borough self-proclaimed as "the Center of the Universe", and perhaps one of few areas in the world still sporting a statue of V.I. Lenin. Floats including a "spine" for George W. Bush, a wall with charicatures of senior administration officials (Prez, VP, the Attorney General, and the Secretary of Defence) for folks to throw tomatoes at, an inflated Statue of Liberty ritualistically run over by a tank float (manned by military intelligence, administration officials, etc.) every half block, and (my personal favorite) a representation of the Israeli West Bank barrier cutting a Palestinian home in half (yes, I'm a fan of Israeli politics... and I'm adamantly against the construction of the West Bank barrier). Even if John Ashcroft couldn't bring himself to oppose the exposed painted penises, nipples, and pubic hair, or even if he couldn't bring himself to oppose the sweating, gyrating belly dancers, or even if he couldn't bring himself to oppose the hordes of families present, I'm sure he would've had to object to the trial-by-mob that his Administration underwent yesterday in Fremont, Seattle.

My... hero?

All-in-all, it was an awesome time. Bands galore, an awesome crowd, no fights (unlike every other parade I've been to), no crying - everyone was kind and polite - and everyone had a great time! Z and I were too bogged down with heat (we like cooler weather) to attend the show afterwards in Gasworks Park, or to go to the Fremont Solstice Festival (we're going later today). But, as we trudged back to my house, grinning ear-to-ear, we looked at one another and said, "This is a large country... but only in Seattle!" Yes, yesterday was a day where I thanked God (or the Pagan Solstice Gods?) that I chose here to make my home, for now.

It was a great time for all. Well, except for the nude bicyclist we saw who obviously got sunburned everywhere. Reapply sunscreen next time, sir.

The Chase

I found out last night that David, an ex from college (and quite possibly the greatest ex-boyfriend I could ask for) is running in an AIDS Marathon this summer to raise funds for the Chicago AIDS Foundation's social welfare programs for HIV-positive patients.

Thus, yes, he's asking for donations. I'll be doing just that when I can get to the bank tomorrow, and I encourage you all do to the same. He's a good man, and it's a good cause; enough said.

Spreading Schisms

Interesting:
"Southern Baptists Quit World Alliance"

You know, I really do start to worry when one group of Baptists accuse another group of Baptists of being too "liberal". Since when are female preachers considered "liberal" and "anti-American"?

Oh well. I might've been born into that church, but thank God I got out early enough to avoid any self-loathing over my God-given sexual orientation.

Retro

I somehow came to work wearing a slap bracelet.

Yep. The blue one.

Unfortunately, someone else noticed before I did.

Hell in a Public Place

Now Z and I both have exams to study for: his Washington State Bar Exam is in late July, while I foolishly registered recently to take the General G.R.E. in mid-August.

Since misery loves company, we've taken to studying together, though Z's study habits are a bit more dedicated than mine (the bar is a "little" more important than the G.R.E.). Luckily, the Seattle Central Public Library opened only a few weeks ago. Brand-spankin' new and SOOOOOOO deliciously lovely. Though I haven't done the research myself, rumor has it the architect is designing one whacked-out television station slated for Beijing. I'm in love with the library, and luckily it's only a quick bus ride downtown from work.

Even better: they have PRACTICE ROOMS WITH KEYBOARDS. I've already reserved Wednesday evening between 6:00 and 7:00. It isn't a real piano, but it'll do for now. Plus, since I'm giving Lab Meeting this Wednesday, you can bet I'll need to unwind that evening.

So, after nearly burning eggs this morning, Z and I headed downtown to enjoy Studying in an Aesthetically Pleasing Public Space. Unfortunately, I dove right into verbal and quantitative sections, thinking I could do it cold-turkey. "After all, James" I said to myself, "You're pretty intelligent. You had good grades in college, and you were one of three valedictorians in high school." Unfortunately, the Fates are great at humbling. With just some random questions chosen to see-what-I'm-up-against, I got a whopping 20% on verbal, and 33% on quantitative.

Yeah, I'll say it for you. James, you're an idiot.

Unfortunately, I'm not one to be graceful when Reality comes smashing through. I wanted to scream, yell, rage, and throw things. I wanted howling and sirens blazing. I wanted smartness and right answers and acceptance letters to graduate schools. But most of all, I wanted to sob, cross-legged on the floor, until ice cream magically appeared.

Zach is patient, and rational. Usually. He came down from his own nest of worries (more legitimate than mine, I might add) and centered me. I abandoned G.R.E. woes, wrong answers, and stupditiy, instead focusing on some Long Overdue Letters I wanted to write to some old college professors. I also reserved the aforementioned practice room for Wednesday evening. "Hell" I thought, "I might as well do something productive this afternoon." The library closed, and we went home arm-in-arm, stopping first at a Bartell Drugstore so I could have a candy bar as a condolence for my idiocy.

It's such a gorgeous library. What a pity I must spend my first few months with it going through Hell trying to take what many see as the easiest standardized test out there. Well, if it's going to be Hell in a Public Place, at least it's a beautiful place.

Meeting David Sedaris

Let Thursday, 10 June be Meeting David Sedaris Day. Or perhaps First Book Reading Day. Whichever works. The rejected title will probably be the title of my autobiography.

Z, a Devoted Sedaris Fan, skipped as much work as possible to be in the front row to hear him mid-afternoon Thursday at Bailey/Coy Books on Capitol Hill. He had a copy of Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim autographed for me (the inscription: "To James - with the pleasure of meeting your charming boyfriend"). Rumor has it my current job was dicussed ("Does he get to wear a little white coat?!"), and the two stood back-to-back to find out who's shorter... among other dicussed subjects. It almost sounds like they held an hour-long two-person conference.

Z then sped to the Elliott Bay Book Company down in Pioneer Square and claimed seats for the evening Sedaris reading. Eric and I joined him after our respective jobs, and I instantly became ashamed that I'd only read snippets of Holidays on Ice and Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. I felt unworthy of a Seat at a David Sedaris Reading; I was stealing valuable buttspace for folks who had Me Talk Pretty One Day memorized. As for the reading itself, I haven't laughed that hard in ages. I do believe I'm addicted.

Then came the book signing afterwards. A mishap kept Z from getting a book signed for himself at Bailey/Coy, so it became my duty to take a copy of Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim in line and get it signed. Imagine my surprise when Mr. Sedaris recognized and remembered Zach vividly from earlier that afternoon. He asked for details of our relationship, what I did for a living, and stook back-to-back with Z again so I could indeed confirm that Z is about a half inch shorter than Mr. Sedaris (a fact he noted in Z's book when he signed it). He smiled, puffed on his cigarette, and listened to us talk - Rock on!!!!

Deity

I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd rather not see Ronald Reagan's face peeping out at me from my wallet.

It's official - the Reagan beatification has gone too far. Let's all just step back, take a deep breath, and pour more much-needed funding into Alzheimer's Disease research.

Bells

Called my father this morning and told him I wouldn't be able to make it to the wedding. He seemed fine with it, since it's a small ceremony anyway (I loathe most ceremonies) - and since I found out on such short notice.

A few folks have asked for clarification on thos matter. I don't know how much clarity I can bring to the situation, but here's a brief synopsis: my folks separated out of the blue roughly 18 months ago, with a finalized divorce approximately six months ago. Some months later, my father revealed that he's seeing a woman whom he and my mother have known since college; since she's settled in Missouri and he's still in Illinois, I didn't expect a wedding announcement so quickly... or for the wedding date to fall so soon (June 21st... Noon on Solstice Day!).

It's all thrown me for a bit of a loop, to say the least. But I'll survive. After all, it isn't my life; furthermore, as one who values his privacy and the control of information circulating about his life, I must extend this respect to others. Unexpected events aren't necessarily bad. It's something new; it's something weird - but not wholly disastrous. I just need time and distance to adapt.

And ice cream. Lots.

Gravity

I'm recovering from a rather atypical weekend... spent largely on the phone with relatives or immersed in my own contemplative pool - trying to decide whether or not I can throw all aside for the moment and attend my father's wedding in two weeks... a decision will come tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm in debt to Eric, who broke the monotony this weekend by entertaining me Saturday.

But really, why rely on paragraphs when I have bullets at my disposal?

--A conversation with David (valued ex; beloved friend) revealed that his brother and sister-and-law have just started a family. For some reason, in the few instances where I've felt the need to give gifts for the birth of a child, I always give books. Well, with one exception (in which I gave two books AND a stuffed bunny that was beyond adorable). But anyway, for Dan and Gio's baby, I couldn't decide between three, so I got all of them: Go, Dog. Go! (one of my sister's childhood favorites), Goodnight Moon (highly recommended by Eric), and The Sneetches and Other Stories (my personal childhood favorite).

Paging Sylvester McMonkey McBean...

--But seriously, why must I buy books? The kid can't read. Hell, the kid isn't even potty trained or self-aware yet. Granted, my mom claims she and dad read to me "from the moment" she got me home from the hospital... but does that explain why I have this fixation of giving books to infants? And I wonder if the parents, seeing such a gift, really think, "A book?... [Insert infant's name] is two [expletive] days old!! A lot of good this piece of crap will do... unless we need a doorstop or cheap toilet paper." Lord/Deity, make me more practical.

--I don't know why. But I just had to rent it the other day.

--This morning at work, I was indirectly insulted at an Invitrogen product show for being "just a technician". Apparently, there's a hierarchy of staff scientists, post docs, graduate students, lab aides, interns, and so forth at the Hutch... and one woman in particular felt those at my particular level (or maybe just me) to be quite close to the bottom of the pecking order. Not quite the king's page - more like the one who wipes the page's butt. You get the idea.

--Anyway, insulted (and a little hurt), I grabbed a free Invitrogen bottle, several slices of pizza (these product shows always have oodles of free goodies and food to draw out the starving grad students - and I'm all for a free lunch), headed up stairs to my lab, paced back and forth a few times, let my face turn from hot pink back down to its usual white, calmly looked up a phone number on the internet, and called Prometric Testing Services in Mountlake Terrace and signed myself up to take the General GRE. So, apparently, fifteen minutes of rage prodded me to do something I'd ho-hummed about and tactlessly dodged for over two years. I finally signed up for it - in August. Now I just have to find a way to keep myself from cancelling it.

--I was also going to make inquiries about the Biology Subject GRE Test, but they were having technical difficulties with their computer systems and asked me to ring back tomorrow regarding How I Can Be Uncomfortably and Repeatedly Violated With that Particular Subject Test. More on that one later.

--So, let it never be said that James cannot make rash decisions. I'll show that b*tch from the product show... Then again, will she show me? After all, I'm the guy who had to spend six months studying for the ACT in high school. Ouch.

--Also at the product show, I thought I'd try out this whole "talking to people and making friends" thing, which seems to escape me time and again. I thought I could start up a logical conversation without:
A. Fixating on details that distract me from the general task-at-hand.
B. in Mixing sentences up words.
C. Coming off as "that annoying gay guy".
D. Sounding dumb, weird, hickish, generally uneducated, or drunk.
Yeah, to make a long story short, I flunked.
You see, I was wearing a sweatshirt with the Cheat on it; and, as I approached two grad-school-looking fellows, the particularly sexy one pointed me out and yelled, "Hey! That's the Cheat! From Homestarrunner!" I wanted to be cool, calm, and composed, striking up a conversation leaving me labelled a Smooth Operator... instead, I was able to blurt out a primate "Uhhhhh... yeah?" (while my brain really wanted me to say, "Nice sideburns..."). Later on, I tried to redeem myself by inventing an excuse to go talk to him and his friend, but the damage had already been done. The conversation consisted of three pieces of dialogue, followed by a hasty retreat on the part of Nice Sideburns Guy and his trusty scruffy sidekick.

--The immediate moments after this blatant social blunder were filled with a conversation with Amy, a former Hutch intern (like myself) who (unlike myself) actually applied to graduate school and is Doing Something with her life. Then, the Hierarchy Drama began (see above) and my time was filled with GRE registration. Only now, with it all behind me, do I see how utterly stupid I acted in front of Nice Sideburns Guy. "Nice Sideburns"?!?! Who the HELL has a brain that comes up with something like that?!

Perhaps I should just read more Dr. Seuss.

Revelation

A Moment of Clarity:

Zach: "Olympia Snowe looks just like Professor McGonagall!"

Who do I see for a discussion on the Federal Marriage Amendment? And what about getting some extra help in Transfigurations?

Disclaimer: Snowe-lovers, fear not. I've nothing but the deepest respect for the (almost) Republican New England Senator. I may side with the Democrats nine times out of ten, but if I became lucky enough to live in Maine, she'd get my vote. She's a good soul; and a good witch...

Peacock

I asked him to pose... and this is what he came up with.

I'd love to know what he was thinking as he came up with this stance.

Death Wish

From my house to the bus stop, I pass a school. In the mornings, if I'm being particularly punctual in my desire to get to work, I stroll past while the crossing guards, probably fifth or sixth graders, man their stations at the cross walks.

As one who was an obsessive and overly-proud crossing guard in the sixth grade, I'm a bit embarrassed to see those same kids now - chest puffed with pride, blowing their wistles as loud as their little lungs will allow, shrill and terse military commands shouted at parents and children alike as they cross, stop signs held high and precariously close to valuable motor vehicles which had the poor luck to be passing through Wallingford for the twenty-five minutes in the morning the Crossing Guard Gestapo reigns supreme and unchecked. I look at them, and think, "God... I used to be that obsessed with street crossing?..." It's a residential neighborhood, after all. More traffic is generated by the army of felines peeing furiously on local automobiles in a vain effort to mark territory. Yet, car or no, whistles are blown, orders are screamed, and stop signs come out each time a student, parent, teacher, or sometimes a stray cat comes within ten feet of the crosswalk.

More embarrassed by my own past, I avoid the crosswalks and just cut across the street. It's barely a one-lane road anyway (God bless unregulated Wallingford parking rights). You're lucky if a car comes by once every five minutes and scatters the feline army.

But, my apparent disregard for the authority of the crossing guards must've struck some tender nerves at Crossing Guard Academy and HQ. A few months ago, as I scampered across the street, I heard a shrill whistle blow ("They must be scattering the pissing cats again," I thought), and the sweetest voice you've ever heard shouted:

"A**hole!! That's how people get killed!!"

She couldn't have been more than 11 or 12; and her adorable pigtails were obviously a biological ruse to conceal her caustic, authoritative bossy streak. Dumbstruck, I stared blankly at her How-Dare-You-Jaywalk-In-Front-Of-My-School scowl, then scanned the sidewalks for any adult overseers who might scold her. Nope, this school lets the kids curse and damn jaywalkers unsupervised.

I walked safely around the corner before bursting out a severe case of the giggles.

I didn't see this girl for the longest time... until this morning. And yes, she remembers me. As I crossed a full twenty feet away from her crosswalk...

"You're gonna die like that!"

You know, I'm pretty sure my blatant disregard for her crossing guard authority will lead her to overthrow democracy and replace it with a firm, totalitarian regime: guillotine for jaywalkers, and floggings for flatulence.

Splendor Sine Occasu

Sure, my dad’s getting married and all… but who wants to hear about that when I have Canadian adventures to report! Drinking, food, falling Liberal ratings in pre-election polls, and FOUR ferry rides!

Actually, perhaps I should make a slight point… "Canadian adventures" might be a big misleading. They were adventures, of course, by my definition – I was going somewhere new and having fun. But, we were restricted entirely to Victoria which, as all good geographers know, is on the southern tip of Vancouver Island. So, Victoria adventures:

Friday
--Ferry to Bainbridge, then drove to Port Angeles… highlights included mistaking a tiny country bridge for the titanic Hood Canal Bridge, inadvertently yelling at complete strangers while attempting to park at an Indian restaurant, and peeing in Bainbridge Island.
--Cheap hotel. Early departure.

Saturday
--Stash the car at the world’s shadiest $5-a-day-lot (but my car was intact by the end of it… not that a Buick Century is much to steal, though), and take the world’s smallest ferry from Port Angeles to Victoria.
--Drag our luggage to the most interesting retro-1970s hotel just north of the downtown and beg to be checked in two hours early.
--Careful examination of Canadian money. I love currency.
--Royal British Columbia Museum! I almost fell into the life-size First People dwelling model, hit my head on a totem pole, tripped on the steps in fake Chinatown, and got pissed at the little kids for not letting me pan for gold with them. F*ckers. Santa doesn’t reward the greedy, kiddos. The First People exhibits were marvelous, as was the British Columbia history section.
--Dinner at a pay-by-weight Vegetarian/almost Vegan establishment that was so heavenly for it’s cheapness that I vowed to return two nights later and shovel more goodness onto those blessedly light plates. Food in general was so cheap in Victoria!
--A lesson in pre-election blunders made by Canada’s governing Liberals. The Basics: Ontario’s Premier broke an anti-tax election promise and put health care premiums on the latest budget… and unfortunately this scandal coincides with the PM calling early elections. Minority government, anyone?
--With much painful searching, we finally located Victoria’s only gay bar, Prism. Hell, we even (accidentally) found the local bathhouse before Prism fell into sight. It was pretty nice, and filled up as the evening went by… as the only gay bar, I was gratified to see All Kinds there – all ages, races, body types, wealth, etc. The stars must’ve aligned as well, for we even talked to a few couples… after I’d had four or five drinks, of course. It also took me about ten minutes to order a beer, since I didn’t know what any of them were.
"Can I have a Mack and Jack’s, please?"
"Oh, you MUST be American."

Sunday
--More lessons in politics from Canadian TV stations. I took pleasure in the anti-Bush subtleties and decided once and for all that the entrenched two-party system that’s crippled the United States sucks ass. A parliamentary system has its flaws too, of course, but at least other parties have… well… a freaking CHANCE to get their hands on government.
--Crystal Gardens: exotic birds pooping, flamingoes, tiny monkeys (I desperately wanted to take home), butterflies galore, noisy primates (including the spoiled American children), golden fish, snakes, exotic plants. I 'bout crapped my pants with glee.
--The long walk west to Craigdarroch Castle, the gardens of Government House, and the Art Gallery of Greater Victoria. Awesome, gorgeous, and insightful. The art gallery had an exhibit of Manchu Era goodies… again, I 'bout crapped my pants with glee. I saw a cute guy on the way up and fell off the curb. I also got vertigo looking down the huge staircase in the castle. Go James, go.
--Dinner at Don Mee’s in Chinatown. Hey, if Pierce Brosnan’s eaten there, so can I!
--Walks along the harbour, one hilarious street performer ("Hi, I come from Canada; I come in peace. Please mind the fire sticks I’m juggling."), and watching the provincial legislature building light up at night.
--Gelato and coffee go well with discussions of Canadian politics.

Monday
--Toured the provincial legislative building. Unfortunately, most of my fellow Americans on the tour were embarrassingly uneducated on the basics of… everything?

Tour Guide: "Some of you may not know that Canada is not made up of states. Instead, we have provinces."
American woman, whispering to her husband: "Are there fifty?"
My Internal Monologue: "Jesus Christ. Ten provinces, and three territories. Not that many to remember, ma’am. Lucky for you there isn’t a test at the end."

American man: "Why aren’t their provinces all the same size? That’s so stupid. Why wouldn’t they make them the same size?"
My Internal Monologue: "I have five words for you, sir: Rhode Island, Delaware, Texas, Alaska."

American man: "Why is Victoria the capitol, when it isn't the largest city? That's how we do it in America."
My Internal Monologue: "Ass. I guess that makes Los Angeles the capitol of California, Houston the captiol of Texas, Seattle the capitol of Washington, and Chicago the capitol of Illinois. Are you going to assert now that Albany is larger than New York City?"
American woman: "And why make it the capitol when it isn't in the middle of the province? We do it like that in America..."
My Internal Monologue: "Carson City, Lincoln, Madison, Lansing, Tallahassee... Shall I go on?"

Tour Guide: "As you may know, the provincial legislatures here in Canada are made up of one house, not two."
American man, mumbling: "That’s un-democratic. No American would tolerate that."
My Internal Monologue: "Ass. Nebraska has a unicameral legislature. Everyone knows that."

Our tour guide was very patient. Afterwards, while Zach took snaps of the dome, stained glass windows, and whatnot, I followed around a second tour of folks from Québec because their tour guide was absolutely gorgeous. I thought about asking him for French lessons.
--Shopping, including several chocolate stores.
--Tea at Murchie’s.
--Dinner back at the Vegetarian establishment (though I actually got LESS food, if you can believe that).
--With some time to kill, saw The Day After Tomorrow. Hey, give me a break! Movies are MUCH cheaper to see in Canada, and Jake Gyllenhaal is beauteous.

Tuesday
--German bakery.
--A reluctant ferry ride back to Port Angeles, discussing Canada’s military spending boosts proposed by Conservative leader Stephen Harper.
--The long drive back to Seattle, planning our next Canadian adventures.

They say Alaska's state motto is "North to the future". The same works for Canada; maybe we’ll just work our way east, and hit Alberta next.
Oh, I also fell down in the provincial legislature. Twice.

News from the Underground

Hot off the press, and quite a surprise:
My father's getting married.
On the 21st.

P.S. - Zach, if you're reading this right now and didn't already know - then let this be a lesson to you: answer your mobile phone.
Good boy; you checked your voicemail.

Terra Incognita

Back from Canada... and dead tired.

They say the best part of a vacation is coming home. Well, I can understand that point to an extent. Though Zach and I seem more excited about planning our next trip across the northern border. Yes, we obviously had a terrific time. If anything, we spent most of the journey back to Seattle lamenting over the reality that we were indeed going back to Seattle.

Details of our excursions into Victoria will come later, for those of you interested. But for now, I could use a nap.