Vancouver Parks: Gone to the Kids

I'm glad to see civic minded parents are cleaning up after their kids.

However, City of Vancouver, clearly it is past time for a ridiculous response to the soon dire global plastic-baggy shortage. Install a flushing station.

Nay — a facility. A green edifice, naturally, sure to win architectural awards and pet-lover praise. A multi-stalled pet privy, with multiple white-jacketed attendants. Gleaming porcelain and gold fixtures. Knocking down some of the neighbouring affordable housing should accommodate such a public inconvenience (and pave the future way for re-zoning applicants still dreaming in their cribs).

Of course, that's simply too ridiculous for any city-planner accountant to ever crack a smirk over. I hope. I am smirking, yes.

But — cummon, COV — howzabout placing the fiscally more realistic separate bin, then? Flies will love it. Brown bin, I'd double-yes that. Its intended use plainly obvious by perceived colour alone. Signage, or threat of fine, or public-friendly pictogram would only be informative bin dressing. The City might spend less per bin in omitting such enforcement-hinting obviousness. So removing the need and its costs.

There. Done. No tirade. No rant. I close in Thanking these, my neighbours, who cared and did not add to the sidewalk minefields. Some people's kids...off leash...barking at all hours... .

Cactus Club Cauldron 2013

They re-lit Vancouver's Olympic cauldron last Wednesday night. Symbol of the 2010 winter games. Two weeks of Let's Party, promises, some kinda shiny legacy.

The cauldron's been re-lit since, for a succession of Canada Days. A civic to-do or two.

"The Olympic Cauldron will be lit on special occasions to celebrate major achievements and events." Says so on the accompanying plaque.

Last week they re-lit it for the grand opening of a Cactus Club restaurant. $5000 bucks for four hours. Plus the 5 percent administrative fee.

Sadly, it seems no IOC rep officiated. Busy, probably. Well, there's Sochi and Rio to make-over, now London's done.

You can read about it here.

From the comments after the story, I get the distinct feeling a mob of folks are still a mite peeved they weren't invited to the party.

Chelyabinsk Event

The headliner on Friday in real-estate crazy Vancouver...something about Donald Trump and his hair coming to town?...

In other news...A bus-sized space rock burned and boomed across the early morning sky over Chelyabinsk, population one million. For a few quick heartbeats, the meteor blazed brighter than the sun. Had it struck the earth it might've gone bang equal to 20 Hiroshimas.

The meteor air-burst perhaps 30 miles high. The shockwave damaged 3000 buildings in Chelyabinsk, shattered countless windows. 1100 people were injured, mostly by flying glass. People had rushed to windows to see...whatever it was...blazing brighter than the sun.

It's winter in Chelyabinsk. Minus-7 Celsius early Saturday morning. Shattered windows means for some folks it's as wintry cold inside as out. Emergency repairs are underway. Naturally.

One scary nugget worth paying attention to: a post-event statement blurted by one Russian nationalist, absolving the indifferent sky of any blame, and attributing Friday morning in Chelyabinsk to an American weapons test. Seriously.

And...De Donald's gonna build his tower in my Vancouver... .

Blogger Comments Not Working…Hmmm?

Something broke in Blogger’s comments display over the weekend just past. I experimented some. Discovered, unhappily, the embedded comments thingy only broken in any of the blogs I follow which are in the oldtimer or classic templates. Embedded comments displayed just fine in the newer blog templates.

Great...

I wasn’t about to go fiddle with my blog’s design template, not in the middle of the night. Certainly not during a rushed few minutes available time from work, either. So, Googled about. To see if I’m all alone in my woe. Nope, I had company. Other folks have likewise seen embedded comments not displaying. One, just this past weekend too. Gee. D’ya think some Admin-type changed something in Blogger...?

Okay. There is a workaround. Eventually, it'll all be working anyway.

Some helpful soul out there...I’ve lost the link...suggested going in to the blogger dashboard, to SETTINGS, to adjust how comments display on the blog.

Here's the path:
Blogger Dashboard > Settings > Comments > Comment Form Placement > Select Full Page, or Pop-Up Window, or Embedded Below Post > Save Settings [Go to Page Bottom].

Long story short, it worked. Instead of embedded comments beneath my posts, I might’ve opted for full page display of comments. I’ve decided on comments appearing in a pop-up box alongside my blog post. I figure if ever the comments pop-up malfunctions, the visitor at least will be able to red-x that pop-up, and still have a readable post page that works, and scrolls, and isn’t a frozen frustration.

BC's HST...Yeah, Yes Means...No

Ahhh, that felt good. Needed a good, long laugh tonight, at the close of another work week. Trust government to make Yes mean No. And, yes, now No means Yes. Yeah.

And on Vancouver Island, at least one mischievous naysayer (who is really saying "Yes, this tax is a good thing) has been changing Yes signs to No. Amusing little corner of the world, this.

I will find a big brown envelope, when it's time to carry my multi-enveloped ballot out for mailing. Just to be extra extra safe. Y'know.

On The Bright Side...

Saw my first swallow of the season today.
It barrel-rolled twice across the noonday sun.
Inspiring enough that I might play IL-2 Sturmovik tonight before bed.

What am I thinking? It's bedtime already.

Did a goodly lot of mind-mapping and outlining tonight.
Saw clearly the darker middle of the NaNo project.
Can see all the puzzle pieces fitting into place to the end.

But it's bedtime.
Maybe a little Fallout 3. Half an hour of exploring.

Happy Earth Day...um, Earth

Lamp post will be next.
Just watch.
Even though a green lamp post.
Perhaps it's not 'green' enough.
The tree was green.
And greening, every day greening more.
Look what happened to the tree.

Seriously...?

Ohh. Yeah. Whatever.

Sometimes it's best just to laugh.

Had to chuck all the blog writin' exercise I was planning on posting here. I'd tapped together a decent paragraph o'humourous rant, about the glacial progress of municipal tree pruning: all while chomping down this morning's breakfast oats. Before heading out for groceries. And tankful of western Canadian gasoline pricier per litre than fine paperbag wine.

But am a stickler for detail, for simply telling the thing right as I can.

I've seen things...since breakfast.

Facts have changed. The rant wouldn't have been right in its details. Fixing the rant would've been more work than fun. And I need fun. I've worked enough. I'd rather write, or play, than work, or rant. Seriously.

Gotta Bad Feeling About This...

The No-Parking-We's-Prunin' signs have been up all the past week.

Nothing has happened.

Not yet.

Or better to say...the only thing happening is the trees haven't noticed, have gone on greening over.

Am keeping one eye open.

And an ear...You might guess what I mean. Listening for chainsaws.

If five cherry trees fall in Vancouver, will they make a sound?

Lights Out

They banned the incandescent lightbulb here, did you know? It was called an evil thing and banned. And the ban was thought so good a thing, and forward-thinking, BC's Provincials enacted it rather quietly around the New Year.

The ban applied to power-wasting higher wattage bulbs, the 75's, the 100-watters. I'd never heard of a 75-watter. I've only ever burned 60's: from the day I fledged, and buying lightbulbs became my own grown-up responsibility. Retailers ran out of stock for every useful watter, though. A post-New-Year lightbulb buying frenzy, apparently. Some shops posted signs, cited the Government edict. Then filled the shelves with compact fluorescent lamps. I won't use CFLs. Never again.

It's March end. The more-useful 60-watt incandescent lightbulbs have returned to shop shelves. At double the previous price.

I must mention something unsettling I heard, over and over, during my winter's odyssey in search of golden lightbulbs. From people I met at bare shop shelves. Most had no inkling a CFL contained toxic mercury, and when dead should properly be disposed of. None knew where to bring them. All had known CFLs that had died early deaths. All had simply tossed the duds in the garbage.

I can't say which is scarier. A lake of mercury pooling beneath the landfill. Politicians whooping it up, riding the Eco-Yada-Yada bandwagon.

---

Am offering this. For the writing exercise of doing this, I'll admit, yes. Also, more importantly, because I've always cared, I'm offering this in observance of Earth Hour. Y'know, the annual symbolic eco-green-hug-fest.

I can see it already. Tonight's late night news. People. Well-meaning people. Masses of people texting, posting pix, You-Tubing video, and calling it good, switching off the light and each burning a smoking candle all of one hour.

This Space Reserved for Anti-Nuke Polemic

Or maybe the next space up.
If I like this space as is.
But one of these spaces will definitely hold a polemic, of the No-Nuke kind.
Once I'm done editing the rant out of it.
It should be a polite polemic, probably, I suppose.
Oh, and witty.
Witty's a good thing in any polemic.
And politeness.
Laughs all around and nobody has to feel bad about ploppin'down simmering nuclear kettles in earthquake zones.
Funny word...ploppin'down.

Banana. A Question.

Okay, so there's a ban on cell-phone use while driving. Texting while driving. Changing a sweater.

What about…eating a banana?

On the drive in to work this morning. Reddish Pathfinder brushed past a silver Mercedes. Pathfinder driver was eating a banana. And doing 70 kilometres per hour on the slowing-down curve of southbound off-ramp into flood-prone Richmond.

Had to toss in ‘Flood-prone’ because I liked the sound of it.

Back to the human munching his breakfast banana while single-handedly piloting his ton and a half o’Pathfinder. Only I’m wondering how he peeled his banana. Oh, of course. Of course. Human. Adaptable animal, the human. Sometimes even clever. Descended from monkey. Fitting word: monkey.

Eww. So he must’ve been driving with shoes and socks off then.

NAASSCAARRR...on TSN...Really?

What?
NASCAR?...I actually get t'see a Sunday race?
Live on TV? A 2010 Chase Race?
ESPN, which I can’t get in my pricey cable bundle, wants t’share a Chase Race with TSN in Canada?
TSN isn’t sooo preoccupied broadcasting golf and football and whatever else – TSN wants to give us NASCAR?
Wonders never cease.

It has been a few weeks since the last race I could actually see…anywhere, on the sportier channels of my pricey cable bundle. I do still recognize my Sunday buddies who turn left…there’s a relief. Happy Harvick looks happy, still. Jeff Gordon’s as ever hopeful. Mark Martin hasn’t retired. Good.

Was in such an excited hurry – rushing to catch the race from Kansas – rushing to catch an actual televised NASCAR Chase Race available to fans north of the 49th Parallel – I saved this as a draft, instead of posting it!

How to Pre-Pay at the Gas Pump

Are you a devil-may-care bicycle commuter, also registered owner and grocery-gettin' weekend operator of a motor vehicle, and therefore are only naturally unused to the...convenience of pre-paying at the pump for gasoline?

Have your repeated unsuccessful attempts ever crashed the unhelpful pump-computer, lined-up waiting cars, and their staring and unhelpful operators, compelled a garbled barking over a P.A. system and eventual visit by an actual service-station person?

Has actual service-station person likewise crashed the pump-computer, because service-station person isn't any clearer on deciphering those instructions?

Fear not, bicycle-commuter-slash-weekend-driver. Perhaps it'll be next weekend, perhaps in six months: your next visit to the gasoline pump will be uneventful, possibly pleasant, or even fun, when you unswervingly follow these simple steps.

Step 1/ Pre-Pay, just as they say, at the pump. Present your credit card. Swipe your card the correct way through the reader. If you have a newer-fangled chip card: tap your card on the chip-card pad.

Step 2/ Wait. The small display should display "A moment, please", something similar and promising: indicating the computer has read your card and is readying things for your actual purchase of that gasoline.

If small-display doesn't appear at all encouraging: first, re-try your card.

If small-display still does not cooperate: start your feet stepping; proceed to the station office; deal with an actual person more than likely only too happy to assist you.

Step 3/ When things do function properly at the pump. Small-display prompts you to take the nozzle in hand, and select the fuel-grade.

Step 4/ Follow the prompts: when the pump is active, pump your gasoline.

Step 5/ Done pumping: replace the nozzle in its cradle.

Step 6/ Pump-computer prints your transaction receipt: take your receipt.

There. Done. Happy Motoring!

Love Admail?

Doesn't everybody simply love ad'mail? Oh, I do. I might only write, or scribble some nothing, if there wasn't this admail I just must de-personalize, and now, y'know? But I do love handicrafts: love scissoring out my personal info: name, address, account number. Also relish grinding the multi-page shredder, shaking the glass in the windows and drawing a kilowatt-hour or two, when there are pages enough and I can use it.

Looks like it would make snug bedding for...I dunno...a gerbil, say, that nest of shredding, eh?

I was becoming concerned [my cable tv provider, or phone service giant - can't decide which to insert here] didn't love me any longer. No crisp envelope in the mail in some time, y'see: no ad'mail. But another two weeks rolled by, and another biodegradable ink and paper nudge that I try [brandname] broadband services showed up, reliable as a friendly unknown-caller phone-call during dinner.

All so biodegradable. The 100% recycled paper responsibly sourced, et cetera. It's so green Mother Nature might approve, and start growing pamphlets instead of forests.

They've used both sides: I can't even scribble notes on the b-side.

Google Images Search: Revert to Basic Version

Ohhh, Goody!
There is an option for saying "No Thanks" to Google Images' new and standard, and slow, search return. An option for reverting to Google Images' simple and quick-loading way it used to display image search results.
Page-bottom.
Nicely central button: Switch to basic version.

Oh'yess, now here's the Google Images search I won't grow old waiting for. Don't have to landfill this machine now and move anywhere 21st Century'ish just so I can see some bloated, image-cluttered scroll-fest the same day I go searching for it. I can turn time back, revert to how things were, in the good ol' days.

I'd gone image-searching for Iron Age houses, hillforts, and such. Research for writing tonight, sometime.

Now I have to find that certain special pre-writing mood again.

Morning Scene: Kids arriving for School

Want to jot this down before forgotten.

Private school. Orange traffic cones and sidewalk guards in orange safety vests eye-balling passing residents of the neighbourhood.
Dark blue uniforms: sweaters, girls in skirts, boys in slacks. Kids eye-balling pink-pink cherry blossom: trees heavy in rain; like pink snow in gutters.
Parents whiz through neighbourhood of apartments, along treed streets: Lexusss, Mercedes, Volvo…Ford, oohhh Expedition. Expedition to drop-off kiddies and whiz away: all pedestrians shall yield. And it’s every kid for himself: picturing elephant seal colony, belching blubbery parents, and tramplings accepted as ‘Just the way it is’.
What’s she up to? – Honda…something-van – done dropping off the kid, stops at dumpster in alley behind an apartment. Mama pops out passenger door: she dumps…looks a fried chicken bucket-load of trash. Bucket goes back inside van. She’s opening the back of the van, now: I have impression she’s not done using someone else’s garbage bin.
A truck? Cutting through here and speeding. Truck hauling trailer: AMP, that energy drink…that figures.

Just an exercise in observation writing, this. Putting a little something in my head other than the workday about to start.

Surly on top...of not seeing Fringe (Fun Working Title)

What happened to my Space Channel, Tuesday night? Got myself home just in time to catch…not a new episode of Fringe…instead…Private Practice.

Perhaps some other time I might be in the mood for yet another hospital melodrama. I wanted to see Fringe, however. There even was the little Space swirly logo in the screen lower right corner.

They broke for sci-fi themed commercials. Returned to more hospital melodrama, preceded by the warning the following show contains violence, et cetera. Clearly, something was amiss.
With fifteen minutes left in whatever those medical practitioners were going on about (I was cooking dinner and no longer cared), the station suddenly broadcast those lovely multi-coloured test bars. Little Space swirly still bottom corner right. Test pattern vanished. An old Circuit show started up, filled the leftover time. At the top of the hour – the thing I guessed likely to show next came – InnerSPACE, the Fringe AfterShow.

Ajay and Teddy dissected the Fringe episode I didn’t get to see. Scenes. Spoilers.

And, today, not a burp I can find on any forum or blog about what happened.
I’m feeling some dread for this Saturday now.
Matt Smith makes his debut as Doctor Who on Space’ace’ace.

No Humourous Words Follow

Pollen. No humourous words follow. I've sat here long minutes now, tapping false starts intended to follow Pollen. I like humour. Even to over-play with it. Humour lifts, the why, obviously.

Enough of that. Time's wasting. DayJob's kept me all week from all the truly important things. Writing. Play. Family, oh'yeah.

Blog'spots work again. Good t'see. I have to file a retraction of sorts: the Access Denied issue actually appears now more a local sickness, not any sort of cyber-pandemic. I found the link I based part of my assumptions on in last week's History and tracked a bit: a Canadian blogger posted her Access Denied cry for help on Google UK's Support forum. I put 2 and 2 together and made 5 from that; and from a UK blogger suffering Access Denied woes in late February seemingly caused by a...uh, a widget, perhaps in Internet explorer 8. The aforementioned Canadian blogger is based in British Columbia. Telus, ISP to so many here in British Columbia, yes, has addressed, if not corrected, et cetera. I do love a puzzle sometimes. Only wish I could pay the rent playing with puzzles.

Posting 'coz I Finally Can Again

Okay. So now I can access my blog. Couldn't, even just minutes ago. And not all evening.

I took breaks, visiting threads. It seems 'blogspot' bloggers here, in BC, other places in Canada, the U.S., and Europe, all have this little wonder in common now.

403
Forbidden You were denied access because:
Access denied by access control list:

Somebody broke something.

I'm able to get in now, though too tired to smile much about it.