Canadian Christmas Vacation v. 6

Yup, version 6. It's almost too hard to believe. But there have been five Canadian Christmas Vacation trips before (there would have been six but Helga showed up a little too close to Christmas 2015 for calm and comfort), and so this one really was the sixth. And you'd think that with a number like 6 (greatest number ever) it would have been grand -- the best ever, even. I'll let you decide for yourself...

Pemulis had recently started a new job in map making for Gerardus Mercator and his Christian, Dutch cronies and in particular he was working on a method to properly project sea monsters reported by trustworthy sailors on to the probably approximately correct (PAC) location on the map in the expanses of the Atlantic Ocean. Some glitches were cropping up, however, and despite some serious tinkering in the map-making process the sea monsters were actually in many cases showing up in even more incorrect positions than before. Unfortunate, to say the least, but if you want to discover more direct routes to plunder the best spices from unsuspecting indigenous populations, you've got to be willing to live just a little on the edge.

So with the lack of success in the sea monster project up to this date, Pemulis was naturally eagerly awaiting a break from the grind and a 3-week no-expenses-paid trip to the New World for him and his family. Finally, Dies Martis arrived and the Pemulis's made their way to the aerodrome for a something like 200 hour flight to the Dominion of Canada (the timelines here are a little confusing). The 8+ days airborne were surprisingly uneventful and you would think that spending that long traveling across timezones might help with the eventual onslaught of circadian dysrhythmia but no.

The first several days of CCV v.6 were even more uneventful than the aeroplane flight. Each day consisted primarily of staring at a wall and sulphur and pitch fumigations that were naturally administered to aid in the travel-induced sleep modifications. But by day 5 (or somewhere around there) Pemulis and Joelle were ready to leave little Helga along with her grandmother for a trip into the deep North with Pemulis's siblings and their spouses. A chariot met them bright and early according to the sundial at the north forty and they began a journey through fields of snow to a remote cabin for some serious sibling bonding.

Gin and Crokinole were naturally the primary activities for all involved and both helped lead to an evening of high spirits and few (perhaps zero) trips to the apothecary a short 90 miles down the Roman-built path. Team Pemulis was even victorious in the end following an unsuccessful and highly controversial carom attempted by his enemies (/brother and sister-in-law). After a meal of thick pottage in the dining quarters, the attendees retired to the parlour for a round of cigars and Napoleon brandy.

Shortly following their return to the north forty, it was suddenly Christmas Day and the home filled with visitors. There was Caliban, the towne drunk; Petruchio, Joelle's mother's sister's husband; Shylock, the half-mad gardener; Herne the Hunter (Joelle's brother) along with his wife Gertrude and their children Titania and Nick Bottom; Joelle's parents Heathcliffe and Catherine; her sister Portia; Puck, the farm-hand; and many more. The house was loud that day, my friends. Like a Limp Bizkit concert where the locals had forgotten to pay off the sound engineer to sabotage the sound board. A good man was lost in the commotion of gift unwrapping and at one point we feared dearly for Portia's life but in the end we all breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she only lost an eye.

In a bid to escape the pandemonium that was twirling all around them with their lives, Pemulis, Joelle, and Helga soon after climbed aboard the Ultimate Driving Machine and roared down the motorway to Pemulis's parents' grand palace, also-known-as The Willows. My memory escapes me with respect to the precise time of our arrival, but Pemulis and co passed through the doorway of The Willows somewhere in the environs of 11 pm (or at least it felt that way due to the length of the morning). In contrast to the north forty, The Willows was surprisingly quiet. Pemulis's brother's children -- who historically were classified as "potentially dangerous contributors to acoustic neuroma" -- seemed polite, reserved, and very, well, grown up when Pemulis compared them to Titania and Nick Bottom and their frighteningly loud and out-of-control interactions with Helga. Even Pemulis's sister's daughter Saldana was a joy to have around.

Pemulis sat himself down on one of the two Vincenzo De Cotiis down-filled, kangaroo twine stitched living room settees and the butler promptly fetched him an Old Fashioned served in a Baccarat crystal. The children quietly amused themselves in the games room and the adults discussed the year that was while partaking in a spirited game of backgammon. Pemulis's luck had run out, however, and was thoroughly swatted when he doubled at a point when clearly should have simply accepted a double. He won't be making that mistake again.

When it was time to open the gifts delivered by Kris Kringle, there was an orderly procession of youngest-to-oldest and following each unwrapping Father Pemulis captured a photograph on the Leica M3. The highlight of the afternoon was undoubtedly the white gold Patek Philippe Calatrava gifted from Pemulis to his older brother. It was all the more humorous when later Pemulis opened the identical gift from Joelle. Great minds, and all that.

Several days later, Pemulis and Joelle set out for a night away, a generous gift from Pemulis's parents that included full babysitting service for the apple of their eye Helga. They again boarded the Ultimate Driving Machine and thundered to the South Bank of the Thames where a dinner awaited them. They strolled the streets through the glistening snow post-meal and planned a very comfortable life in the area for Pemulis's baby sister including her future banker, tax advisor, gym, and of course guitar teacher.

Returning to the north forty, Pemulis encountered some health problems. Nothing a timely administered Carbolic Smoke Ball couldn't cure, however, and our heroes were back to the races. The next event on their itinerary involved a trip to the local mountain where little Helga could participate in some much-deserved mountaineering. Helga took to this rather impressively and was soon climbing circles around the other adventurers. There were zero problems with her wanting to participate in said activity and the whole family felt 100% confident that they had got their money's worth and vowed to return when the opportunity again presented itself.

Like all good things, eventually the CCV v.6 had to come to a close. Pemulis, Joelle, and Helga, after a relaxing chariot ride to the aerodrome, boarded the TWA Dreamliner and were whisked into the clouds for a return to a more civilised version of life. Diesel automobiles, beer for breakfast, the expectation to only bathe monthly, and most served food based on a process that involved force feeding a helpless animal in some manner. It was good to be back on the continent.

What do people care about, think about, and, most importantly, write about?

In ancienter times than now, when looking for inspiration or arguing an important point in a pressing matter, or exploring answers and guidance through life's often turbulent, trying, and confusing happenings, one might have turned to Shakespeare: there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. One might just as usefully have turned to Socrates: the only true wisdom is to know that you know nothing. Today, however, we shall turn to a wisdom (of sorts) imparted from the inimitable superhero film Deadpool 2. And the topic of that wisdom is: luck.

In Deadpool 2, Deadpool has to go on a mission to save a fat New Zealand mutant child (as you do) and to do so he puts together a team of superheroes to aid in said mission. The most important member of this team turns out to be Domino, whose super power is... "being lucky". Seems kind of lame, right? But, it becomes pretty clear pretty quickly that being lucky is one of the most powerful of all the super powers. Anyways, it goes without saying (but I'll say it) that a powerful super power will also have a powerful anti super power and in this case it's pretty obviously "being unlucky".

Now I won't argue that I'm an overall unlucky person (more like a bad decision maker) but my present trip to the largest sub-national economy in the world has been decidedly afflicted with a case of the unluckys. First: one of the people I was supposed to be meeting with concurrently booked a trip in the other direction and so they are currently sitting in Bavaria while I sit here. Second: I'm meant to be meeting all week with "remote colleagues" but sitting here in the office kitchen with no one around it's very clear that one should not show up to work on a holiday Monday! Whoops. (and yes I'm aware that one could just as easily characterize point number two as being lucky -- kind of a free holiday -- but I'm pretending to be a hard worker right now).

Back to the other side of unlucky, though. You know what's lucky? Knowing what to care about, think about, and then I guess by extension, write about. But the former two hold the bulk of importance, of course. Now I don't mean that I don't know about to care about, ad litteram. Obviously Joelle and Helga share the number one spot in that particular competition (but they better start getting ready to shove a little bit over on said pedestal for when little Dinosaur or whatever we'll end up calling him arrives in a few short weeks). What I mean is more like passion in work or hobbies -- the things that push you to work or at least work hard and that excite you. Now I know that I'm lucky because I even have the luxury to be able to think about this kind of thing (though thinking in many contexts is decidedly an unlucky thing to have to do) but if (to take a wild example) one believes that technology -- while promising an improvement in life and by extension happiness -- is actually making our lives less fulfilling, more stressful, and onerous, then maybe that's even worse working in that area than if you were working as some kind of labourer "just" for the paycheque.

But now, the sun is shining outside, there's literally no one else in this office, and so I will go for a walk and see if clarity may arrive through the warm healing rays of the sun.

California Redux

It's been a quarter of a year since pixel was put to screen on this blog but Pemulis is back and he's back in California. After never having been here till last Fall, it's now Pemulis's number #1 travel destination for the key Fall 2018 / Winter 2019 time segment. It's not exactly clear why Pemulis is in California right now but the prevailing understanding -- some call it a narrative -- is that he's here now so that he won't have to go later in the year, we believe. It's a mystery that A&E will surely one day make a series about: how do these technology companies make any money at all when you see what goes on behind the scenes? Modern Mysteries, premiering next Fall, after Parking Wars and before Hoarders: Motorhome Edition, only on A&E.

What is Pemulis doing here? Pemulis feels like he could probably get a real benefit out of some personal counselling from Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, maybe Albert Camus, somebody, anybody, because he really has no idea. It kind of seems like he's not doing anything for any purpose and these guys and gal might agree / have agreed. Didn't people used to spend a summer in Europe after college to find themselves before entering the real world having everything figured out? Well, if you haven't been keeping track, Pemulis has spent seven years there now and he probably feels more lost than ever, we imagine. Ostensibly, he's here -- here, being Californ I.A. -- for "meetings". Now don't go telling the CFO, but are these meetings really going to change anything about anything for anyone? (purely rhetorical question for anyone looking for the "contact" button).

In the back of your mind, you can always go home. But eventually, after seven years for example, home isn't what you remember it to be. And your new place sure isn't your new home either. Poor Pemulis; destined to be running away from something forever and ever, amen. Pemulis does have two important reasons for being here, however: number one, tonight's total lunar eclipse will not be visible in Europe (the land of demystifying one's dreams) and the Bay Area should be a prime spot for viewing (unfortunately, however, the forecast calls for 100% chance of cloudy conditions most probably negating reason number one); and, number two, helping to treat (though one can't be so optimistic as to imagine "curing") a serious case of the wintertime blues. While tonight's "super blood wolf moon" will in all likelihood be rained out, the rest of the week calls for a whole lotta warm California sun of which one should be out there having fun in and while Pemulis will be "working" during the day, he will also be 200% sure to get out there even if ever so briefly for some key targeted lunchtime sun exposure.

One thing that being in California seems good at accomplishing is creating a fake nostalgia drenched feeling of one-time bliss felt through music created and played during the 1990's.  Did Third Eye Blind do anything after that first album? Doesn't matter. Did Jewel eventually start making dance music and give in to the evil temptation that is autotune? Pemulis hopes not, but even if she did, it doesn't matter either. Did Counting Crows become cringingly, embarrassingly terrible? Yes. But all that music that helped form Pemulis's psyche when he was around 14 years old is now forever tied up in some very complicated and very messy tangled-up knots of neurons that are somehow tied to California and once thinking that he might have had an idea of what he wanted to get out of life. And no, the San Jose Sharks are again on a road trip this week.

There's a wide wall that Pemulis can't see over now. It's a good thing that Pemulis is a fictional character by the way (emphasis added). One thing that this fictional character in particular really quite likes is warm(er) (always warmer) weather and California seems to have that more or less in spades. It's really nice to get away from the cold but then when you head back to it it seems even colder than before. Wow this writer is some kind of philosopher king. And so you find yourself on a "business trip" tired, jet-lagged, and alone, wishing for it to end but also dreading the end of it and the return to dark mornings and afternoons, grey skies, and freezing rain.

I have to say I'm a little bit jealous of Pemulis. And in fact I find it kind of irritating that he sometimes seems so glum, because from my view up here at around 10,000 feet he seems like a pretty lucky dude. Why, I heard that just today he spent a couple of hours at a Baron Barista sipping some very fine caffeinated products while reading Jonathan Franzen's seven hundred and eighty-fourth consecutive essay saying the same thing about the same birds (OK, maybe that part was the more irritating in all this). So therein perhaps lies the problem? Maybe he's reading the wrong stuff.

It was a long December and there's reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last. And it's one more day up in the canyons. And it's one more night in Hollywood. If you think you might come to California, I think you should (but don't go alone).