Tartan Day Penguins

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It was going to happen sooner or later. I can blame it all on Tartan Day but that would be a lie. For the second time in 153 weeks I didn’t post a blog on Wednesday. The last time this happened I was in the hospital.

This time I was so exhausted even a penguin couldn’t help me.

Yesterday, April 6th, was Tartan Day. For the last seven years I’ve been putting on some sort of event to mark the day. This year was no different except that this year may be my last.

I’m not an “events” person. People think I am, but they’re wrong.

Yesterday I joined up with Rob MacNeil and Nic Brand. I love these guys! Nic is the founder of Men In Kilts and let us use his tartan firetruck to drive around downtown Vancouver. Rob is the Cultural Committee Chair of the Scottish Cultural Centre and got us two pipers and a dancer to provide the entertainment. We made stops at many iconic Vancouver places, put on a mini show and in-between, drove around the main streets of downtown with the bagpipes going strong!!!

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Lots of fun but very crazy and a little hard to organize.

It’s “gorilla-style” with the premise that you do something and ask for permission later.

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A tad bit stressful for the person in charge.

Before we headed out I wanted to address the issue that I might lose my cool while we were on the road. (And when I say lose my cool I mean I could go insane and yell at everyone.)

So I gave this little speech to Rob, Nic, Roger Lye, Aiden Fowler, Alexandra Lye and the parents.

“We’re going out to have as much fun as we can, but I know that if I get stressed about something I can go a little crazy, get mad and totally crap out. It’s very ugly! So… if you see me start to get a bad face and get mean… I want you to immediately say a special word to me. And that word is PENGUIN! Then all I’ll think about are my favourite animals and the way they are so cute and how they walk funny and I will stop being mad. OK?”

I even tossed in my imitation of a penguin walking.

Everyone laughed.

The speech wasn’t for their benefit, it was for mine. It was a safety net in case the event went bad. In case I went bad.

But the day went well and no one said “penguin!”  The crowds smiled, took pictures, waved and realized it was indeed Tartan Day.

We only had trouble with two security people. Even those encounters ended well.

I got home after the fifteen hour day and wrote my blog. Then I accidentally deleted it. An exhausted, stupid move. I wrote another one and it was shit. I wrote a third one and can you believe this; my computer crashed and I lost it all.

I wanted to cry and scream and say I will never blog again.

Instead I said the magic word and went to bed.

Penguin.

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Behind Closed Doors

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I love my apartment building. We are our own little neighbourhood.

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It helps that we’re also in Kerrisdale, a perfect, throwback, mid-scale, little part of Vancouver.

You get to know your neighbours. People come and people go. Some, like me, have been here for years. We chat in the laundry room, parking lot and stairwells. At Christmas I invite most of the tenants to my open house.

Most of the tenants.

I will never invite the people that live right next door to me. And luckily, they never read my blog.

He looks like an upscale businessman. He’s not. She’s his mother. They’re always very polite when we pass in the hall. She speaks in a whisper.

A few times a month, behind their closed door, they scream at each other like two deranged banshees. Shrieks of accusations. Raging condemnations. It goes on for hours.

I can hear them from my bathroom.

So I know their little secret. They hate each other.

In this building we tend to look out for the people around us.

Jack lived on the second floor and was in a wheelchair. A friendly chap. Once when the fire alarm went off we all ended up in the lobby. It only took seconds for two men to turn and head back up the stairs to carry Jack down. It was a false alarm but from then on we put a system in place as to who would make sure Jack was OK in an emergency. I liked that we did that. It’s what your neighbours should do.

We also share books in the laundry room library.

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Someone has hung “paintings” in the carport.

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For a few weeks we had a lady living under the tree by the side of our building. It was well protected and she just “moved” in. Oddly enough we were all respectful of her space. When the weather turned, someone found her a better place to stay.

There’s a generous on-going dose of common courtesies.

People come and people go. Some people stay for years and years. Jack got sick and died.

We old-timers rate the newbie’s but we’re also quick to welcome them in.

Yelling neighbours, well they’ve taught me that you never really know what goes on in someone’s home when their door is closed… and locked.

We all have secrets. The way we act. What we think. Things that make us mad. Things that give us our greatest joy. And the people we choose to hate.

I swear I haven’t looked the mother or son straight in the eye since I heard the first yelling match.

I’m afraid they would know I know.

And how could I live with that?

Or worse… how could they.

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Procrastination & Inspiration

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Three weeks ago I sat in this room at the Long Beach Lodge and vowed that I would stop procrastinating.

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By the end of February I would get my ass in gear and somehow build a new website.

Six days ago it seemed procrastination would win. I had done nothing.

Then I asked my friend, Jennifer Browne (writer/editor/blogger/social-media-manager) if her website builder extraordinaire, Christian Lind, could give me a hand.

Hours, and yes, I mean hours later this new website was built.

Procrastination got kicked in the butt.

I’ve been warned there’s tons to learn and  lots of work to do.

Surrounded by these amazing people I’m motivated to carry on.

And with that, inspiration has taken center stage.