surviving toronto's heat and humidity

I enjoy the heat and humidity of the Toronto summers. (to be continued when I have enough energy to actually write something when I'm not sweating my ass off).

By the way I'm above it all. But Jim and Ger continue to ignore me. It's beyond me what they are trying to accomplish. I'll kill Jim and his accomplice Ger. I thought I was their favourite uncle but they must have dredged up another one from somewhere and they are probably showering their love and devotion on him now. I rue the day I changed their diapers when I was babysitting them a long, long time ago. Although I may not have, I can't imagine me doing something like that.

I wasn't a bad uncle. Neither one of them could have survived without me. When they were little they really were bohunks (in the nicest sense of the word). Although cute, Jimmy really was annoying when he was a child. And Ger: he may not have been cute, but he made up for it in heft. I've seen smaller elephants. As a child, Jim was devious. Actually so was Ger come to think of it. And that was the good thing about them.

I won't catch the plane. I did once swear that I'll get back at them. Maybe I will catch the plane and pretend I'm not there. The top ten reasons why Jim and Ger are ignoring me:

10. They have nothing better to do.

09. After Brenda drove me to the airport last year, she was hoping that it would be the last time she saw me.

08. I wasn't sincere enough about how nice Anita's flowers are.

07. I should have been more animated about Karri's gravy.

06. Jimmy hasn't bagged a moose for years so he's taking it out on me.

05. Ger hasn't got over the idea that I might be slightly smarter than him.

04. 'my' family in general are all too busy to care.

03. I'm annoying.

02. They are annoying.

01. I'm disruptive of their lives. I've only just begun baby's. Whether it is with Jim, Ger and Kev or Julie or not. If my health will allow me, I'm gonna 'kick ass'. Get used to it. And don't underestimate me, don't ever do that.

An Ode to Max

This person doesn't actually associate with the Hells' Angels too often but he does feel comfortable around them. He was raised by a wolf in the wilds of B.C. and learned to hunt small game at an early age. His early hunting expeditions often took him to Creston whereupon he was afraid of Max the Wonder Dog. All he tried to do was pick up a round object 459 yards from Kevin and Anitas. He was playful but Max was not.

But then he became human and grew to love Max. I think Max loves Don the Wolfman more than anyone else but Roy and Kevin may dispute that. Max loves people and I must agree with him there. And to be raised by Anita, Kev and the boys must have been dog heaven. Even with the cat killing grounds of Kevin, Max knew he was safe. Some little kitty would come up to Max and look at him playfully. Max would just rest his head on his paws and think: you are gone, kaput, enjoy life while it lasts because your life is going to be a very short one. And of course the next day at 7am another kitty would bite the dust.

And after all these years Max knows Kevin. He prefers Anita and the boys but he knows once in a while that Kevin will even love him. And when Kevin is is in that special mood, Max knows he will have the most fun. And both Max and Kevin love very moment of the playfull dog/owner relationship. And Jimmy knows that too. Probably more than anyone else. Unfortunately I've been away too long to describe Kodiak. But I know that that was special.

Uncle Don's Favourite Nieces and Nephews

People Magazine recently asked Uncle Don to rate his favourite nephews and nieces. We go to him now:

"my favourite? can we start with the annoying ones first?". "No Uncle Don, you have to rate them in order of preference". "I don't prefer any of them" " "Try to rate them, this is a big magazine". "Okay, Jimmy was up there, the first one, and Laurie was so lovable and Robin and Ger were beyond me in cuteness, and Donna made me proud, and Julie was extraordinary, and Kevin and Neil were amazing and Gail was special". "Oh that is nice, who are your heroes?".

"jim and Ger" "why". "because I'm going to kill them". "you cant' kill your heroes Uncle Don they are special". "they completely think they are, but don't ask them about their life, they will tell you and you will be bored to tears, hint to all future unlcle: they normally don't make any sense whatsoever and if you say 'interesting' or 'I didn't know that', or 'wow' they will usually want to talk to you for six or seven days. And especially beware: If you get Jim talking about his navy days then your days are numbered because it's impossible to live long enought for his stories. When I'm there try to steer him away from that subject. These old persons love to digress.

"What about Kev?". "what about him?". "Isn't he a little bit your hero?". "Is this on camera?" "yes" "Kev is okay, he'll bring his game face to the game and I'm pleased he's on my team, even though I can make a better fire than him if I put my mind to it". "what if this wasn't on camera Unle Don?". "annoying". "annoying?". "he might be the only person I look up to re funny". "oh uncle don your scared of him". "only his mind, his body I'll kill with the greatest of ease".

"Uncle Don, do you have any regrets?". "Yes just one". "Oh you wanted to spend more time family?" "That too, but no I would have loved to have seen Vesuvious erupt and now I'd like to see most of mankind wiped out by a catastrophe.". "you mean floods and forest fires?". "Those too".

Surviving

Yes, being at Julies and Harold's place a few New Years ago was a highlight. The food was great, the wine was greater and the weed was the greatest. The dart game posed a problem for me: "Uncle Don?". "yes Julie". "that projectile has to be thrown". "where?". "at that round thing on the wall". "really, my shoe laces look funny". "uncle don you don't have any shoes on". "I'm trying to find them"

"Julie who is that odd person over there who keeps staring at me?" "The christmas geranium". "really, wow, a trillion years ago plants were us". "Are you throwing that dart or what?". "Kev and Ger are really serious, which forehead should I aim at?". "Uncle Don, you have to aim at the bullseye". "not Jim?". "unlcle Don?" "yes Julie". "you are a weirdo". "thanks Julie"

Colin

No this isn't a pic of Colin and Jennifer coming across a fried egg on the Moyie River. Colin's life is much more odd. Tell me about it.

I think the Pickle has been officially retired now but once I bore the brunt of Colin having a driver's licence for one day: we get in the pickle and my head slams into the dashboard when he turned on the cd. Loud? And then as we are going six hundred miles per hour towards town I'm wondering to myself: hello, uncle Don, this won't be a boring time will it. Yay.
I was't too taken aback when Colin drove into the car wash. What can happen? This place is a den of normalcy. I'm okay here. I may get wet so big deal.

Unfortunately the pickle decided to die that day. I assumed Colin knew how to get it going so I wondered around and had a ciggy. "Uncle Don". "yes Colin have you got the pickle fixed yet?". "no, uncle don, we have to push it". "push it?". "Yes and Hal here is going to help you push the pickle". "Whom?". "Hal".

With only slight reservations I shook hands with Hal and got ready to push the pickle out of the car wash stall. It was downhill and so even to me the idea of pushing it sounded okay. Nineteen times me and Hal pushed the pickle while Colin steered (I won't even get into that). On the twentieth push (when boredom and exhaustion had set in) the pickle started! I wasn't prepared and so I got dragged along behind the pickle for 600 or 700 hundred yards because Colin wanted to ensure the pickle was getting the gas. Colin jumped lively and exuberantely out of the pickle (he hadn't done anything, of course he would) and noticed a trail of blood and then looked at me and asked: "Uncle Don, are you okay?". As I woozily got to my feet and brushed the blood off my knees and put the internal organs back where they belong I said: "not a prob Col, not a prob". So we get up to Kev's and I stagger to the couch and Anita and Kev asked in unison: "Don you look terrible, are you okay?". "I'm dying for gawds sakes but it was fun having a nice day with my favourite person, he's cute but deadly".

The Storm Blog Highlight of the Week

After much discussion and bickering back and forth, the judges decided that Don's phone call to Jim at (hold it we have to go look at the jacket) Mister Tire was his highlight of the week. The runner-ups, Kev and Ger, were rather blase about it all. So was Jim but at least he had the decency to tell me that me that I'm special.

James

At the time, I really thought I was being too harsh on Jimmy when I posted this pic next to his bio.

Obviously not. He could be trying to annoy me but I doubt it. His most recent e-mail indicates that even the Supremo Puba (in-waiting) gets a little testy when hung over.

Now what happens? It takes The Supremo Puba Of All Time six or seven weeks to get over a hangover. Gawd knows how long it will take his eldest son to recover from a hangover when he reaches the throne.

Has The Storm Clan ever had a palace coup? I personally think it's time we did. We need new blood. And lots of of it. Where is the Red Cross when one needs them? Actually Jimmy is okay, he just noticed he's getting old. In unison: Aaaw. I've never received an ounce of sympathy in my life so anyone whom gives Jim any is dead.

My Week

I try, I really, really try to lead an uneventful life. Get up, make breakfast, bike to work, work, bike home, have dinner, read, go to bed. Boring I know, but I enjoy it completely. It seems though, that for the last few months or more, things haven't been quite as boring as I want them to be. Some of the things that happen to me are because I'm forgetful and I'm not that aware of what is happening around me. But other events are beyond my control.

So, Monday morn. A beautiful day by the way, the birds are chirping, the smog has temporarily disappeared and I've only thought about how decrepit my bod is a little. I'm fairly happily biking to work along Bloor Street and a car pulls out to turn left and it's in my way. A regular occurance and so I am quite prepared to bike behind the car and continue on my way. Unfortunately the driver is a nice guy and so he backs up...into the car behind him. And let me explain: anyone who bikes in Toronto will tell you that at least once a week he/she comes close to death's door because of drivers who talk on cellphones or just plain don't know how to drive. So hearing the crunch of two vehicles colliding would normally be music to my ears. But I don't get the satisfaction because this driver was being nice. That never happens in Toronto. So I stopped, which I should never have done. Thank good gawd I'm sixty. If I was any younger they would have torn me to pieces.

So on Tuesday I casually mention to a person at work that I must find a better route to get to work. And so Bruce (one of the nicest persons in the history of mankind by the way) tells me that his son loves to bike too and gets him on the phone and his son describes a new route to me. I'm not that great at writing down details but I managed to do it. So after work that day I follow the instructions and I'm quite impressed. I actually stopped at a pond and watched Canada Geese frolic. But unfortunately, I eventually ended up at a City of Toronto waste management site. Thank good gawd for the CN Tower (actually it's saved me many times) so I knew which I had to go. So I backtracked and by a fluke of all flukes I found a bike path that was headed east. I got home by nine o'clock exhausted and too tired to eat.

And Wednesday was uneventful even though I did nod off at work a few times.

Thursday: No prob.

Friday: I didn't heed the forecast. It said 60 kilometre winds by the afternoon. I've biked through that a thousand times. The *&))&%$ forecaster didn't mention the 453 kilometre gusts. As I finally limped into the beer store parking lot near home with bike, life, and limb somehow still intact, I bought one extra king size beer in celebration of me surviving the week.

I loved every single moment of it. And then this morn I was walking back from Tim Hortons and a cute, young gal on a bike smiled at me as she was biking by. It made my day. Hint to the Rest of the World: Life is way too short, enjoy it while it's here.

Cute

You can tell that is Bob by his short hair. He is the only person in the history of mankind who wishes he was bald. When he enters his second childhood he will be well-prepared.

Lots of cuteness in this picture (except for the bald guy and his son Hairy).

Sunday Morning Editorial, Part II

Eek. Jim and Ger have e-mailed me, Kev doesn't think I'm that bad, Bob thinks I'm okay and Jesse of the New York Times has even decided that I'm worthy. This all could go to my head and I might think I'm special.

I'm not at all used to this and so I'll need a come-downance soon. I won't go so far as to say I should put up a tent or make breakfast, but I could pour my own coffee. I still feel hard-done by, by the way. After unsuccessfully trying to throw up last year and staggering to get a coffee, all the liquer was gone.

And the first day hint: It will take me a little while to acclimatize myself from being in downtown Toronto to downtown bush so if I seem weird just ignore it. Since most of you ignore me anyway that shouldn't be too difficult. And put me to bed very early, I'll have a couple of beer perhaps but don't let me get carried away. I'll take after Brenda and Karri-woman, although that may be difficult since they will probably be in bed before I get there.

And last year Karri-man was disruptive. He kept us up all night. Thank gawd I've got two old fogies (Jim and Ger) to look after me. I don't know if it's possible to hitchhike in the middle of nowhere but with those two looking after me, I might have to try it. And can I have lunch on the Saturday without having one foot in the grave? It really is difficult to eat Anita's shrimp with one leg in a foxhole.

I'm done, yay hah. You probably figured out by now I love you all. I'm so completely and utterly lucky.

A Sunday Morning Editorial

The Storm Clan has finally someone whom I actually love. Anyone who would send me a an e-mail to wit: "(I) put down plastic and then wheel(ed) 70 wheelbarrow loads of rock up from the driveway to the side of the house --now finally i am putting down some terrific looking rock that i found up the Summit and which i hauled 5 loads home and probably need 3 more."

Me biking sounds lame in comparison. And especially since I just plugged in the frying pan and not the coffee pot and smoke is billowing around me. But I am a Virgo too somehow.

Although Ger is annoying, he has got an amazing, creative streak in him that makes me proud. And actully, when I think about it, so do Kev, Jim and Julie. I guess that is why I have stuck with them all these years, I completely feel comfortable around each and every one of them.

Although Jim can be really annoying. Don't get him talking about his navy days. And Ger is okay except don't get him and Justin together unless one has headphones on so one can tune them out. And Julie is not that bad. Other than being completely cute and having a mind like mine (which must be difficult), Julie can be annoying too. Kev is not a member of the family I don't think. Roy won't admit it but I'm pretty sure Kev was adopted. Someone put this little bundle of something on Roy and Anna's doorstep and they felt obligated to take it in. Too bad really.

One final comment: I was kind of thrilled yesterday when Bob couldn't get his Blackberry or whatever it's called to work. He tries to do the the Messenger thing with me and it hasn't really worked for him so far. Can anyone imagine Bob sitting at a campsite, sitting around a campfire, with birds tweeting around him, and having his latest toy not working? There is a God in heaven after all. But don't tell Bob that. Sssh.

The Green Bum Award

Many families enjoy gardening. Anita really loves it. I try to stay awake while she describes her yard. And it is pretty good.

So to Anita the Green Bum Award goes to you ths month. With your dedication, I'm sure the Green Thumb Award is soon to follow.

It's never been clear to me what these birds have to do with anything in Creston. Tyler, after noting my wallet was bereft, gave me his wallet with the inscription NWTF on it. I presumed that meant No Way The Fowl.

No Uncle Don, it is a celebration. "of what". "turkeys". "turkeys?" "so why aren't we out on the lawn killing them". "Because it is federation and they have door prizes and they eat roast beef" "roast beef?". "yes" "not turkey?". "nope". "So Jim and Ger are attending the Turkey Federation and are going to eat roast beef?" "yes uncle". "why is the turkey federation meeting being held in Cranbrook Tyler?" "because there is too many turkeys in Creston and none there". "I've got it now, so that means the lack of turkey is good?". "uncle don don't be stupid, they are trying to grow them there". "turkeys?". "Uncle Jim calls them fowl". "fowl?" "Uncle jim wants the name changed to the Federation of Fowl". "not the federation of turkeys?". "no uncle Don, Uncle Jim likes the word fowl". "But it's a turkey". "Uncle Jim told me it was a fowl and I believe him".

"how is uncle Jim, Tyler?". "not bad". "has he got big stomach?" "yes". "what about Ger?" "cool". "would you want to eat beef at a fowl party with Ger and Jim Ty?". "I'm not that stupid Uncle Don".

Britney

Jim hasn't sent me a photo of the 'real' Britney so I substituted a phoney one. The real Britney is cute and now is a young lady. I could be wrong but the bird and Max loved me the most.

At least they used to, after a year they probably have forgotten about me by now. But when one comes from afar and see's the love in their eyes it's tough to ignore.

Perhaps the 'real' Britney has forgotten that I will never jump on the trampoline. Eek, maybe I will this one time. But I will watch her forever.

Serenity

A pic of Roy gazing at a mesa while watching the sun set. Has anyone noticed he looks better from behind? Roy's brother Don also gazes once in a while, although usually it's just into space.

I don't know what it is about Don. He's obviously not normal. He somehow figures out he can write, actually gets an article or two published, has a New York Times writer as a mentor and then decides that his life is not so bad as it is: a job that isn't that bad, people at work whom he cares about, a family who is far away but who he thinks doesn't mind him, a bike he can ride where he feels almost equal to anyone because he doesn't have to walk much.

And he is enjoying himself a wee touch. He's in that particular time in life where he can look at family and think: that's Kev, that's Jim, that's Ger, that's Julie, that's Roy, that's Bob: what weird persons to be related to. They are kind of kooky.

Next week: How to interpret the Storm language: The Myths.

A recent addition

This is Theo Storm, courtesy of Craig and Lidka. Like all Storms, he is cute. Welcome to our world Theo.

Father and Daughter

After fifty years, Roy still looks handsome to me. It must be the three weeks he needs to recover from a hangover. Julie, on the other hand, only needs five or six minutes, tops. It must be a Miller thing because I myself need at least a day, although I can sometimes have a beer the next day with 19 hours sleep under my belt.

Although Julie looks very beguiling and cute in this picture, don't be fooled. Under that precocious exterier dwells a caring person. I don't know why this incident has stayed with me all these years, but I remember my first experience with downhill skiing at Sunshine Village. I was so bad that everyone finally left me to my own devices except Julie and Gail. They got me down the Strawberry run somehow. I think there is a picture somewhere that shows me wiping out Roy and Leo getting off the lift. After that day, how I ever kept on skiing I'll never know.

And one day at a ski hill that I can't now remember the name of, I achieved perfection (in my mind). I did the moguls and I was good, Kev and Jim saw me come down that run and even they were impressed. Gawd did I have a good time with Jim and Kev in the lounge after. And the ride back to Calgary in Jim's white van was so nice. Jim driving, Kev in the middle nodding off and me in the passenger seat telling Jim that the day had been the greatest day of my life. And I remember Switzer, watching Ger, Kev, Robin and Neil hot dogging it and skiing with Marlene (she was a better skiier than me by far at the time).



One good thing though is that it takes Roy six weeks to get over his hangover

The Family Tree

No, this isn't a picture of Brad and Angelina. These two are much cuter. Look at Roy, if that isn't movie star handsome I don't know what is. And Anna just oozes cuteness and appeal.

Unfortunatey they decided to have children. I remember someone mentioning this to Roy and Leo (presumably it was God) at the time: Don't. Children will only cause problems and you don't really need nine migraines. And the migraines, I mean children, are sure to annoy your beloved bro Don, whom has enough problems trying to cope with his younger brother Bob.

Of course no one listened and presto!! Nine kids in four years. Marlene was leaving the hospital with a new bundle of joy in her arms while Anna was going in. The bedsheets in the hospital never got a chance to get cold.

It all worked out to my complete amazement. Marlene and Leo lived in the strangest places while raising a family and Roy and Anna lived in a shack. The song: Okie From Muskokee comes to mind.

The Millers and The Douvilles. I must admit both Roy and Marlene married into great families. Odd, but great. To little old shy me, Leo's family seemed so wonderful because they were so exuberant and typically French-Canadian. As an example, when I think of Armand, I think of someone who has a nice smile and who can talk about anything and one can't feel anything but comfortable in his presence. And the Millers. Jack Miller had that Irish glint in his eye that I can't define it but it was like a little leprechaun was hidden inside his body.

And so as one might expect, the nine little kids were all different in so many ways. And I saw my mother's eyes light up every time she held and caressed every one of them. And dad, although outwardly gruff, was putty in their hands.

So many members of the Miller, Douville and Storm family tree have left us and none of us really stop grieving. But the tree blossoms and their are more stories, so many more, to be told. I think all of us can look back and say: "jeezus gawd lord I'm glad I was born, life is good and bad, but I like it and mostly I enjoy being along for the ride, and just perhaps, although the odds are maybe slim and none, I'm going to meet up with all our family members who are no longer on this earth and I am going to have one big fucking huge party with them" (pardon the language).

The San Andreas Fault

Kev is the only family member whose face will adorn The Storm Clan blog twice. There is not enough space in one comment to cover all his faults.

Has anyone but me noticed that he doesn't actually know the correct way to start a fire. I'm sitting quietly and patiently with beer in hand waiting for him to unload the pallets off the pickle and he just takes his sweet old time getting the fire started.

And he cheats in darts for gawds sakes. How low is that? He has a homing device in each of his darts. The only reason why he loses once in a while is because he looks at Anita with loving eyes and gives her his darts. That is true love.

And he doesn't bike. He wouldn't know one if he saw one. I will broach the subject of him purchasing a mountain bike and biking with me when I move out there someday. I will be looked at with complete and utter disdain. But if my past history in Toronto is any indication, he will do it. It will be a challenge but I'm quite confident I can talk him into it.

Mother and son

A nice picture isn't it. So Julie is holding a beer. We can't expect miracles, it's The Storm Clan remember. Whatever silly words I can write, a picture like this is worth a thousand of them. Every picture I just posted today is worth more than all of the tea in China to me.