I didn’t want to go into town because of Vancouver drivers. All of them are aging hippies with cataracts, stoned on BC Bud, drinking BC wine by the case since Alberta boycotted it when BC refused their flatulence. Everywhere cyclists are defending bike lanes and seeking ICBC claims. The rich Asian immigrants, criminals from Communist countries ,where their profits are based on who they know and knowing where the bodies are buried, well, they just buy their driver’s licenses here. The kids high on crack and crystal meth speed their Lamboghinis. No one knows how to drive in snow.
I might catastrophize a tad about BC drivers faced with white stuff. At least we’re not in Ontario or Quebec where the Climate Change Dicaprio Cult is at their fiercest. Climate Bartie groupies with Offended Ken see any change in weather is proof of their religion. They’re worse that the Cargo Cults. Meanwhile the middle class is sacrificed en mass to the latest fashionable get rich quick taxation scheme. Which citizens can we demonize this week.
“Can you move the tickets to Saturday night, “ I asked her. She’s good about dealing with tickets. She was already switching my friend Dr. John’s tickets to Saturday so his son could go in his stead. I told John his wheel chair tires need studs. They slide to much on the ice. But the city complains studs hurt the roads. All the Gaia folk don’t want you to walk on the planet and the city doesn’t want you to hurt the roads.
Laura wasn’t even sure she could get home in the snow. “I didn’t bring my tall boots with me. Only the ankle boots. They’re going to fill up with snow.” She was house sitting caring for a dog out in the Point Grey boonies.
Saturday the snow had stopped and the big thaw had begun. Fabulous day. Sunshine and warmth. All one could hope for in a spring day. I’m sure the blue crocus and yellow tulips that had poked their heads out of the soil were pleased too. They’d committed with hope and faith to the coming of spring. Now this had struck. The Vancouver city plows were doing a masterful job.
Locally, Mack was working the plow in our neighbourhood. Dave actually came by and shovelled my walk. He’d go on to shovel his daughter’s big Langley driveway. I wasn’t dressed yet and had to assemble the shovel I’d bought at Home Depot. Now that the founder of Ikea is dead everyone is muscling into his turf. Home Depot Ikea type shovels. While I was assembling my shovel Dave had finished the walk.
I’d bought another propane tank at Meridian RV and more toilet paper the day before in case we really were socked in. Eric had fixed my furnace the week before and I didn’t want to stop enjoying the tropics in my home just because I lacked propane fuel. If I had any say in the pipelines from Alberta I’d say run them right to my door. Being without heat is devastating in Canada, even in a Vancouver winter.
Last week I’d been going to work and coming home to a living room with a 30 galpropane tank with indoor heater head from Canadian Tire. I was also relying on electric heat and electric blanket at night. It was all precarious. My back still hurt despite exercise, industrial supply of ibuprofen, ASA , robaxin, voltaren and chiropractic visits. Chronic pain gets worse in cold.. I had so much work that was backing up too. My environment was fighting me all the while the government was stabbing me in the back. At least I was not alone.
While Canadians were suffering unprecedented snow storms, terrible cold, flu season and gnarled traffic our dynastic Stoner Prime Minister was making a fool of himself in the heat of India. His trip was naturally paid for by the carbon taxing of Canadians, old folks and veterans dressing in three and four layers of clothing in an attempt to use as little heat as possible to ’save the planet. Carbon dioxide is the air plants breathe as do we. so yes, the air we breathe was being taxed so our Selfie Socked Prime Minister could galavant with terrorists in India. Others in the UN Agenda 21 hegemony were similarly redistributing wealth with pseudo science. Meanwhile the Sharia
Communist, feminist ,virtue signalling PM Trudeau who had hoped to dine with terrorists again so he could give them the standard Liberal $10 million dollar terrorist encouragement bonus was blocked by an aghast Indian press who thought the man daft.
CBC would never have question holy aetheist family of Quebec. He was shocked that others didn’t find his boyish charms amusing. So he fell back on his winning strategy. Buy your friends with Canadian taxpayer dollars. gave Indian billionaires $750,000 in exchange for an $250,000 claiming a major business and diplomatic coup, a billion dollar trade agreement with India. This was from the economic idiot who said ’the budget would balance itself.” . Only it turned out that Canada was giving his Indian Billionaire cronies $750,000 and getting only $250,000. Just like taking candy from a baby.
Behind closed doors there were no doubt lots of promises that Punjab in Canada would vote as told by their colonial and post colonial leaders. Trudeau was dancing up a storm in his latest tax dollar wardrobe.
Then to add insult to injury, he flew in from a Canada an Indian chef, not a particularly good one either, but charming like Trudeau and no doubt a major Liberal supporter. However to fly in an Indian chef to India is the height of cultural insult. A form of Cultural terroism. As if India doesn’t produce it’s own Indian chefs. Someone must have stopped Justin and Vijay slaughtering a sacred cow for the dinner because not a moo was heard. With his hourly costume changes he’s looking more and more like Gadaffi every day. At least with him out of Canada Canadians could get on with winning at the Olympics.
A three quarter of an hour drive across town on the lousy roads and still blocked traffic took me an hour and a half. Laura was out on the street waiting for me in her ankle boots in the snow. The streets were turning icy with the night. Parking the F350 with crew cab and 8 foot box is it’s own trick. I’d told Laura I’d take her for dinner. But with traffic, snow, parking and everyone else of like mind there were long line ups at the restaurants near Queen Elizabeth. We walked three blocks to the almost empty A & W. Laura is a trooper. One Ballet it snowed while we were inside. She was dressed in a little black number and high heels. I’d picked her up on the Harley and that’s how I drove her home in the snow. This night was Mamma burgers and fries. We normally have fast food driving with Gilbert getting a little burger paddy.
The Ballet was tremendous. Medhi Walerski’s choreography was spectacular. This last evening was sold out. Some of the Friday night folk like us appeared to have, like us, moved their tickets to Saturday night. It was a squeeze. It was also an older crowd than Friday alone. Because it was an adult theme there weren’t the gaggles of ballet children. Well coiffed and exceptionally well dressed adults though. I loved that the fellow sitting beside me with his husband had an appliqué coat. Great fashion idea.
Medhi Walerski was also in charge of costume design which in its modern minimalism was so well conceived. I loved the simplicity of the Theun Most design using rectangular blocks as doorways and benches. Elegant really. The whole cast of the ballet were on stage for most of the show making it very exciting and busy. The fight scenes were gloriously rendered in high art. C.T. Roland Cooper’s Sword Play and Joshua Reynolds Combat Instruction was all filtered through the most ingenious dance mind of Medhi Walerski. Every move was symbolic and refined. A joy to watch. So much happening all the time. Montagues and Capulets everywhere literally flying about with great leaps
and bounds. I do think Shakespeare would have approved. The dance was worthy of his genius.
Kirsten Wicklund had been Juliet and Christoph Von Riedermann Romeo on Feb. 23. Emily Chessa was Juliet and Brandon Alley Romeo the other nights. Their pas de deus and interpretations were
exquisite. The whole first set was a delight. I really did like the clever use of curtain and scenes.
In the washroom at break, a fellow commented, “the death scene went on a bit long’. We all laughed as so one said, ”It wouldn’t be art if it didn’t.” It really was of an era when a ‘good death’ was to be desired. Such drama. Such poise. The last moments of a man and woman so important. Such a contrast to the proletarian present with it’s utilitarian approach to death and such efficiency euthanasia. Death captured Shakespeare in all its historical glory. An age of innocence. High art. BC Ballet did it well.
The shorter second act dealt mostly with the star crossed lovers. Beautiful dance. “It reminds me of the opera,” Laura whispered. There was alot of the acting of parts to explain the poisons and the parents. Then the love scenes. Nothing says joy better than a man lifting a white clad girl high above his head as she arche swan like to the heavens. Such beauty and form. I loved the fake death and the rippled sheet so like sand on a beach. The music of the London Symphony with Andre Previn was so good that Laura looked for the actual orchestra. More deaths more drama and more remarkable dance.
For me it ended too abruptly, artistically true, but lacking the meaning that Shakespeare meant of the tragic loss of star crossed lovers that mocked the very division of Capulet and Montague rivalry. The cost of hate to community. It was there but the ending seemed to focus on the loss rather than the lesson. But these are post modern times and morality is subsumed by beauty. The ending was so dramatic that the audience lept to it’s feet en mass in great applause. What a wonderful night of BC Ballet. They’ve been invited to tour Europe. Well deserved too. The Ballet BC is a unique company of contemporary dance at its finest. We’re so fortunate to have their innovation and genius here in Vancouver.
Out in the cold the roads were icy and unplowed in Point Grey so I was thankful for the truck despite the difficulty with parking down town. A good choice. I left Laura with the gifts I”d ordered from Amazon which had thankfully arrived in time for Valentines. We kissed. She went off to house and dog sitting. I drove back across the city to the warmth of my home and my blind dog, Gilbert. Gilbert and I walked the block at midnight. He seemed miffed that the snow had covered the messages of friends.
Finally in bed, the expresso I have at shows to avoid snoring, inevitably keeps me awake later. I was looking forward to the Canadian Sealy Posturpedic Mattress I’d ordered from the Hudson Bay. It was to arrive on Sunday. Here I was on Valentine’s Day longing for my true love, bed, at my age. A Sealy Posturpedic back mattress my Valentine’s Day gift to myself. Laura is excited that she’ll be able to share the new firm King sized mattress with George, Gilbert and me next week.
We loved Romeo and Juliet we really couldn’t related to the passion,poison, suicide and daggers. When we were younger for sure. But now the prospect of a Sealy Posturpedic mattress and a better sleep, that’s exciting. . I don’t suppose that would make a great theme for Ballet BC. The whole idea of the new mattress is to reduce the movement in the night not increase it.
The mattress did arrive. It was a trial for the young Pun Jab men, one of who showed me a picture of Trudeau and told me that he was going to help Khalistani separate. I supposed we were going to war with India. Maybe he’d teach the Khalistani how Quebec extorted billions from Canada by constant threat of separation. I liked these guys though. Good workers. Friendly.
I love my Indian friends here and so loved my time in Mumbai. I certainly don’t want a war with India. I just burned some incense I’d bought home from the Paramehansa Yogananda ashram outside San Diego. I’m so looking forward to going to the International Society of Addiction Medicine Conference in Delhi next year this time. Really I’m just envious of Justin Trudeau. I’d like to take a week or two to go from the north to Goa and Kerala. I’m covering in the clinic for my Indian doctor whose home is Goa. As a good son he’s dutifully visiting family.
These two fine strong gentleman had their work cut out getting the king size mattress through the smaller doors. I thanked them for their efforts before they headed off for another delivery. I’d had to get out the screw driver and make room so finally the mattress was seated. Kaloo Kalay! He chortled in his joy.
When it was finished I was inspired to tidy vacuum, shake rugs and wash floors on my hands and knees. A new Sealy Posturpedic mattress deserves a good clean home. George, the cat had bolted into deep hiding when the mattress had come. I’d put Gilbert in the back room. He whined. Now the two were out of sorts with all the vacuuming and cleaning. Gilbert and George think everything below knee level is their domain. Gilbert was especially annoyed that I was moving his toys. At first opportunity he got some out and spread them about the living room.
I then made the great bed. New mattress cover. New clean King Size Sheets. Duvet. Electric blanket. Hudson Bay Point Blanket, this year's much loved Christmas gift from my sister in law and nephews. . I helped Gilbert up on the bed and we both tested it. George is still suspicious of new things. Gilbert and I loved it.
Now I’ve slept in it and though the firmness results in tingling in my fingers I’m hoping the new Water Pillow will reduce the neck flexion and eventually all will be well. I love the support on my back and waking this morning less stiff with less pain. I think I love the ballet as the mental images teach my resistant body of what it’s supposed to do. Of course I was a dancer once. I once did such moves, I lifted up lithe ladies over my head so they could swan on my shoulder. Ah those were the days. Now I long for aSealy Posturpedic.
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