If you've wondered why there has been no entries in the past 5 months, I have a simple explanation - I'm going through a divorce. As well as taking up a fair amount of time, the thoughts I've been having haven't been ones that I am keen on sharing with the WHOLE WORLD, if you know what I mean.

I've been blogging, but not here. My soon-to-be-Ex is now a reader of the new site, so I'll invite everyone over that wants to read about my new direction in life.

As the facade of 'Sean, the happily married man' falls away, so ends this blog. I've enjoyed having No Comment as a touchstone to my past - a way to relive and remember. This will continue to be a location I come back to.

You can catch up with the recent action or start reading from my first entry at the new site, aptly named, "Post Parting."

Sean's blog will be off the air until a few matters get straightened out.

You take care and wish us good luck.

I'm driving down the Deerfoot this morning when I see a 20 year old Ford pickup rattling down the center lane. The paint is badly faded from its original silver color, the fenders are dented with spots of rust along the bottoms of the panels and randomly blemishing the upper half of the vehicle. It looks like attempts have been made to keep this truck running. Someone has even tried to stay some of the more serious body damage with Bondo and primer paint, so it takes me a while to notice that three letters and an exclamation mark have been spray-painted on the tailgate of the Ford.



L O E !

The letters intrigue me, as I can't figure out what they mean. I look and ponder, running acronyms through my head until I finally realize that each of the spray-painted letters is in between one of the letters on the vehicle's logo, sending a message to everyone who's stuck behind this piece of rolling junk that's only going 100 km/hour down the highway.

Today's fortune cookie reads:

Now, If I could just figure out which path I'm supposed to be on, I'd be OK.

Har har! Ho ho! Fencepost holes are done, and not a minute too soon. The family returns to the house after a five day trip to the Okanagan, and my goal was to be done. I find I get so much more done when I'm the only family member around. Don't get me wrong - I *do* enjoy their company, but as Barbara Coloroso has mentioned, parenting is not an efficient profession.

It wasn't all work, though - heat exhaustion sets in pretty fast when you are using a hand-auger in 30+ heat. I spent some of the week relaxing as it was my vacation, too. I've started a few paperback novels, watched some trashy primetime TV and did some laying around.

Doing nothing isn't as bad as most people make it out to be. Our society focuses so much on "accomplishing" something in every waking hour. Even when someone takes a vacation, it is assumed that they are taking time off to work on a project (as I did) or to travel. You don't need to do anything specific to rejuvenate yourself. Sometimes quiet reflection is enough.

Twenty-one fenceposts done, seven to go.

When my neighbor, Mr. G., came to me with the idea of replacing the fence between us, it sounded like such a good summer project. He, being an older gentleman in failing health, offered to pay the lion's share of the materials if I would do the manual labour. The old fence was definitely in need of replacement (being 40 years old) and the new fence would be the same location, size and colour as the existing fence. Tear down the old one, put up a new one.

Doesn't sound like a Herculean task, does it?

Somehow, this little project has stretched from late June until now, almost 2 months after lumber was purchased. Mr. G., who is normally a patient and kind man, is starting to run out of patience. He phoned me a few days ago and mentioned that he had asked a landscaper to give him a quote on finishing the project for me (I've got the old fence disassembled and disposed of, as well as half of the post holes cleared out) and wanted to know if I wanted to hire them instead. I assured him that I had plans to finish, and that I would somehow delay the other things that were keeping me from the fence.

I've taken this week off work and have sent the family to the Okanagan so that I am free of job, parental and all other obligations, so that I might focus on the fence. So far, the weather hasn't been co-operating. Yesterday (Saturday) was rainy and today's not much better. I am resting and recharging my energy. When I changed my business voicemail tonight, I realized that I haven't taken a work break since November of last year. Even that break was a busy one, filled with parental responsibility and the general hubbub of international travel (we went to Greece so The Missus could compete in a marathon). It wasn't what I'd call a restful vacation.

So, in between digging posts and hand-mixing concrete, I plan to enjoy the solitude that an empty house holds.

I washed my hands nine times today, and the day is not even over.

And no, all nine times weren't for the reason that you are thinking. Ewww!

• Washing hands and face just after waking up
• brushing teeth after breakfast
• morning shower after workout
• pre-work pee
• going to eat an apple at my desk, wanted clean hands
• Late morning bathroom "visit"
• prior to lunch, wanted clean hands
• post lunch pee
• afternoon face wash, helping to wake me up

Does this seem obsessive?

Went out for a nice bike ride with Bob and The Torpedo this morning. I can kick both their butts on the bicycle.

I had a flat for the first time in 1300 kms (accourding to my trusty, dusty bike computer). I was certainly envying the lovely carbon fibre that my two riding mates were on. My bike is 18 years old this summer, and though it has carried my for tens of thousands of kilometres and endured all sorts of abuse by me, I am considering getting a new one some day. 12 gears just doesn't cut it, nevermind the non-indexed shifting levers on the downtube. I *could* upgrade components, but that's just going to require more cash than a new purchase.

What's a fella to do?

The Windermere Triathlon is done for another year. The race was a bit of a dissapointment as I haven't trained as throughly as I would have liked. The day was glorious, as usual for that location. I was staying with a friend who has a second home in Invermere (he refers to it as 'the cottage') and enjoyed the hospitality and vacation time.

When summer vacation happens, children everywhere are thrilled ... for about the first week. Then boredom sets in. We, as parents, are responsible for the supervison and (to a lesser extent) the entertainment of our children. Some parents just send their children outside to play. Some buy new cartridges for the family X-Box. Some ship them off to other relatives' houses and hope that they find a way to keep them busy. Some, (like us) enroll our kids in daytime themed "camps" where they are supervised for us while we work to, uh, pay for the said camp. That just doesn't sound right, does it?

Banana and McMonk have started their run of summer camps. These past two weeks, our two little hams have been enrolled in the Pumphouse Theatre's camp. They get to learn about set design, diction, script writing, singing, costume preparation and other aspects of putting on a show. Each day as I drove them to camp on my way to work, they would bounce around in the back seat, revving themselves up so that they could run showmanship laps around each other and the other campers the moment they arrived. Even as we were getting out of the car with the other kids within earshot, Banana and McMonk needed to talk over each other. All of them at once seem to need the attention of the counselors, who were on the caffeinated activation level as their little charges. Wild hair styles, flashy clothes, ear-catching voices were all part of the normal atmosphere. They were in for a super, super, SUPER-charged day. It was an agoraphobic's nightmare. The end of the day was a different story.

When we came to pick them up, our children would quickly wind down from their frenzied, manic camp personas to a quieter version of themselves. They reverted to a version that needed solitude to recharge before the next high-energy camp day. We each breathed a sigh of relief and took them back home, where they retreated to their rooms and where they would read, play quietly or just relax for the rest of the evening.

Tonight was different. The plays that they had put together over the span of the camp were presented. Fifty sets of parents sat in the darkened theatre and watched what their children had been up to for the past two weeks. Filled with inside jokes, the performances were delightful. Each of the campers got the spotlight (literally) for a few moments. Lines that they had been dying to say, longing to deliver were finally presented. The performances were aimed at humor, but each character had wry, subtle touches of individuality that would only be recognized by a parent.

I am impressed but not surprised by the confidence that Banana and McMonk show when they are on stage, delivering to the masses. They are the kind of cool, confident kids that I was afraid to talk to as a youth. I hope they are nice to the shy, quiet kids.

The triathlon training, she's not going so good.  I did get out for a nice ride today, but the next triathalon I'm in is gonna be a butt kicking, and it ain't gonna be me that DOES the kicking.

Automotive Haiku

Clunking, grinding noise,
bits of metal on the ground.
Transmissions aren't cheap.

What the hell have I been doing instead of blogging?

Diggin, laddie. Diggin fence-post holes. With these two hands. No sissy machines for me - I'm hand-crankin 'em out.

And boy, I am I getting tired of doing it.

Think nothing much changes with you from day to day?  Check out what J-K Keller did to document his apparent lack of change. 

Your face changes, based on stresses, weather, daily activity (or lack thereof), emotions, attitude ... nevermind what you can do to you hair.  I've seen similar projects done by taking monthly or yearly shots of people, but nothing that shows daily changes.  what a great regimen.

The web is a perfect showcase for amazingly dedicated projects like this.

I've been eating and eating and eating today.  Maybe I'm having a growth spurt.

It is ironic that I am growing, learning and changing in such profound ways right now and that none of that experience is making it to this archive of my life.

Hopeful that I'll start making blog entries again? Me too.

I took Canada Day off, and everything at work held together.

Friday night (Saturday morning, actually) we did some late-night work that required us to be up until 5:30 am. The rest of Saturday morning was spent hugging the pillow until noon.

Today, work was closed and I prepared for the big fence building project at the house. Tomorrow, we pressure-wash the deck and prepare for staining.

Busy little bees, aren't we?

At least I got a blog entry in.

Remember when you were in grade seven and you went to your first party? And your friend who was having it, had, like, pop and food and a stereo and great music? And all the kids from your class came, even the cool guys and girls came too? And there was even some slow dances, and someone said that it was girls' choice? And your friend that had the party, their parents were there, and they were, like, hanging around and looking at everything and like totally spying on everybody?

Well, right now, I'm that parent.

School's out! School's out!

Hooray! Beware! School's out!

After hearing about Milk Duds in American-based media for years, I was expecting them to be delicious. Someone brought a box into work today and left them as a public offering on the kitchen table.

It turns out they're chocolate-covered lumps of toffee. Yuck!

Don't let the doom and gloom of the recent posts at No Comment fool you. I'm really quite excited about my daughters (yes, both of them) competing in a triathlon this weekend. Banana completed a triathlon training program last week and is keen on all the sports involved. McMonk is along for the ride, but isn't quite as enthusiastic, as you might expect at the tender age of ten. I'm glad both of them are staying active and enjoying activities such as this.

Banana is moving on from elementary school next week, complete with a graduation ceremony and dance. It might seem a bit odd to have a graduation ceremony to go from Grade 6 to Grade 7, but she is changing from a school that she's been in her whole educational career. She's going on to be with a group of teenagers, fraught with a whole different set of joys and concerns than her present, younger schoolmates. New responsibilities are on their way too - home rooms, her own locker, changing classrooms throughout the day, optional classes, intramural teams, ... It's all so exciting and frightening at the same time.

I remember junior high as a time of great change and deep insecurities for me. I hope that her teenage years are a bit gentler with her. I hope to have my crap together in short order so I can be there to support her when she deals with hers.

_{Just in case you are counting, this is my thousandth post to my blog!}

After a rough night, I went into work early before I'd had a chance to have breakfast. I decided to go out of my way to a local grocery store and pick up some breakfast fixings. Wouldn't you know it, there's a faded old sign prohibiting left-hand turns between 7 and 8:30 am onto the street where I needed to go. I didn't see the sign, but the cop that was waiting for me as I completed the maneuver certainly was aware of it.

I've now been to the hundred-and-fifty dollar "don't turn here between these times" course. I was polite to the police officer, but he seemed to have a plethora of pat excuses for the price of the ticket. I thought I sensed a ticket quota and a slightly guilty conscience at this obscure turning restriction.

Bleah.

Yesterday I felt like I wasn't pulling my weight at work. I wasn't hungry and had no energy. I couldn't connect with anyone that I talked with, I was forgetful and I couldn't concentrate. My kids were annoying and demanding, my personal life felt like it was crashing down around me.

Today I felt like competent and useful at work. I had much more energy, had good conversations with people, felt like I had a handle on all the personal stuff I'm dealing with and had a pleasant time with my kids who are funny, entertaining and interesting people. I had a good swim workout and I have the energy to 'blog.

The difference? 12 hours of sleep. It does wonders - everyone should try it once in a while.

I bought a new tin of hot chocolate powder and left it in the office kitchen.

Help yourself, but don't forget that you have to buy the next tin.

I'm thirty-nine years old, and I have white feet.

Pale, pasty-white feet.

When I was nineteen years old, I would scoff at my dad's white feet. He walked around all day in workboots, his feet encased in thick wool worksocks. He would get home from work and pull off his workboots and socks and let out a huge sigh as his feet emerged from their UV-proof cocoons.

I, on the other hand, spent my summers outside, barefoot, on the pool deck where I worked as a lifeguard. I had a clearly defined line on my feet where the pigmented skin ended and the thick, tough (remember I was walking on concrete all day) pigmentless skin of the soles of my feet began. The tops of my feet were the color of rich, medium-stained mahogany. In fact, a bit of the tan from last summer could still be seen, even in May before I started my summer job on teh pool deck.

Now, as I enter another year in my life, I notice little things like this that tell me times have changed. I understand the reasoning behind some of my parents' comments from the days of my youth. I find myself saying things I thought only my father would say. I sometimes make grunting noises when I get up after sitting for a long time. I have the tiniest, wispy-white hairs growing out of my ears. I have a daughter that can start and competently operate our finicky gas lawnmower and another one contemplating boyfriends. I have been treated to many things in the past thirty-nine years of this existence, some of them requested, some of them thrust upon me.

The wisdom that I used to wish for as a young man has come to find me, and as a consolation prize for not being all that I hoped it would be, it gave me white, untanned feet.

Cycling; snoozing; a drive to the mountains; complements on my parenting skills; watching a thoughtful dramatic movie; Chinese food with enough leftovers for lunch tomorrow in a tupperware container .... altogether an entertaining day, filled with activities and moments that I enjoyed.

What else could one ask for on his birthday?

Bloody spammers.

Haven't they figured out that if they have to trick you into reading their message, you're not going to be in the best frame of mind to buy something?

It ended up being just water. Seems the toilet has been flushing slowly and it had overflowed.

Note to self: Always do a test flush on a clean bowl of water when using a public facility. It could save embarassment if the plumbing ain't working properly.