Crying 'Go Sens Go' won't deter police
The Ottawa Citizen,
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
The Ottawa Senators may be in the Stanley Cup finals, but the OPP Ottawa detachment is telling Senators fans that yelling, "Go Sens Go" will not get them out of traffic violations. The OPP said motorists will not be able to sweet-talk their way out of a ticket using the popular slogan, despite reports to the contrary. [link]
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Wednesday
Why I won't be driving for a while...
Here am I floating in a tin can...
I'm not sure how far I'll get in this world. But I know my name has travelled widely in outer space.
When my spyglass is trained just right on a clear night I can see a special little speck in the sky: the Stardust spacecraft.
On board are two tiny microchips with more than a million names, including mine, engraved on them. I signed up many moons ago and recently remembered that I had climbed aboard the mission.
Stardust hurtled into space in early February 1999, bound for Comet Wild 2, which hangs out 390 kilometres from Earth.
It scooped up some cometary materials and plenty of interesting dust particles in a sample capsule, which returned to Earth last year. But the rest of the Stardust craft will remain in space, forever orbiting the sun.
It's good to be along for the ride.
Monday
My New Quest
Things have been up and down with me in the past week. Unlike the rest of this city, the hockey results didn't do much for me. It's nice the local boys are doing well, but you know the thing with hockey is the violence. There's just not enough. There they are with blades on their feet and what do they do? Drop their sticks, take off their gloves and punch each other. It makes no sense.
Still, last Thursday, it warmed my heart to see the fountain at City Hall flowing with blood, the blood of our vanquished enemies, I assume.
Perhaps these lads will win the cup after all, I thought. And that got me to thinking about the competition I'm in: Most Improved Person 2006-07. I realized I'd given up on winning without trying. Sure, the Amazon has got herself a life coach. And sure, all the Chair would have to do to win is get a life off the couch. But I could still pull ahead if I put my mind to it.
I even came up with an idea: volunteer work! Sharing my skills for the benefit of the community!
I called the first number I found for volunteering in Ottawa. "I want to do some volunteer work this weekend, who could use me?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," said the woman who answered.
"Aren't you the volunteer people?"
"No," she said, "we're process servers."
"Oh..." I said.
"But the marathon is on this weekend. Maybe they could use some help."
And she was right. The Foot Racing people needed lots of help. I looked down the list of areas where they needed help:
- Route Marshal
- Medical
- Water station
- Information Booth
- Expo
- Race Kit Pickup
- Start Line Area
- Recovery Area
- Sweat Check
- Cheering Station
"Holy Saint Nicholas!" I said out loud. "It's like they knew I would be available." If there is one thing I am an expert in it is perspiration. "If they need someone to check for sweat, I am their man!" When I thought about it, it made perfect sense. Once those runners stop sweating -- they're in trouble.
I made my way to Confederation Park and saw the "Sweat Check Tent" sign. I wondered if they had tents set up all along the route or if we sweat checkers were to be deployed from this main base to locations along the route.
Well blow me down if I didn't have it all wrong. It turns out the Sweat Check Tent is a place where the racers leave their belongings while they're running the course. Having all those valuables at my disposal was mighty tempting, but in the end, I decided that it wouldn't help me get the prize I really want.
Do you think the Dragon Boat people might need a sweat checker?
Sunday
ADD at the GGGS
Scenes from the Great Glebe Garage Sale...
8:30 a.m: Dame Aggie, on a mission to buy fresh dark roast, finds Coyote confused and wandering in traffic. She takes him in hand, warning him firmly that after the Research Director's experiences a few weeks back, he's not even going to get to sniff the grounds. And if he tries to actually drink any, he will be summarily whacked on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.
8:50: 4th Dwarf arrives, grumpy that coffee is not yet served. Coffee is served. Coyote pouts.
9:05: The coffee hits. Aggie, suddenly aware that there's a garage sale going on, starts hauling stuff out of her house. Much of it is pretty nice, because she's compacting her possessions before she moves out. A dishevelled, sleepy waiter is among the items ejected. Coyote & the Dwarf witness this latter event with some interest.
9:10: Aggie staggers out of the house laden under a gigantic pressure cooker, saying, "I used it a couple of times, but I never really wrapped my head around the idea of a bomb on top of my stove. How much should I charge for it?"
9:10:30: Gleams of covetousness, lust and avarice alight in several eyes at once, because you just never know when you're going to need a good pressure cooker. The Dwarf & Coyote simultaneously attempt to glom it. One inconclusive tug-o-war later, they agree to flip a coin for possession. Then the sleepy waiter, rousing, offers to buy it, too. Lacking three-sided coins, the trio begin a spirited bidding war. Nobody remarks on the fact that the Dwarf, somehow, is both auctioneer and bidder.
9:15: The Dwarf, caught up in a fast-talking frenzy, accidentally sells the pressure cooker to Coyote.
9:20: Consumer hordes descend upon Aggie's driveway and run amok amid her stuff. Nobody remarks on the fact that, brown-paper-and-string-wrapped purchase in paw, Coyote has wandered off in search of Aggie's sizable cat...
Wednesday
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