Now then…can I use a lightsaber while I snowboard?

The Queen (our home station) decal
Our home station

Four days since I last blogged. The hell is wrong with me lately?

A good four days it’s been though. Thursday night was spent partaking in one of my favourite pastimes: watching the Habs beat up on the Leafs. Friday we had dinner at Fieramosca, and came home to find our Wii Fit waiting for us. We considered setting it up that night, but the wine and limoncello we’d just consumed made us think twice. Ironically.

Yesterday was our get-crap-done day (capped off by an excellent meal and very nice 2004 Cab Sauv from New Zealand), freeing up today for brunch with our friend Cyndy and entertaining CBGBLB, who I think were just using us for our Wii. But they brought us chocolates* and convinced us to order pizza, so we didn’t mind. We also finally put up our TTC wall decals, courtesy of Walloper, which we think look pretty sharp.

I’ll be honest with you: the idea of staying home tomorrow to play Wii Fit and lightsaber duel kind of appeals to me more than the idea of going to work tomorrow.

* The chocolates were from Eat My Words. Very cool idea in support of the Steven Lewis Foundation, and a great gift idea. Check it out.

Mats who?

Time for your sports update, you bunch of wussies.

Tonight I watched the Montreal Canadiens handle the New York Rangers 6-3. That makes them the third-best team in the eastern conference points-wise (though they’re ranked fourth, though, because division leaders get the top three seeds) behind Boston and Washington. While the Canadiens were expected to win the conference this year, no one expected Boston to be as good as they’ve been, or for the Canadiens to suffer the injuries they’ve had.

The Habs are currently missing their #1 goalie Carey Price, as well as what’s essentially their #1 (or at least #1b) line of Saku Koivu, Alex Tanguay and Chris Higgins, not to mention defenceman Mathieu Dandenault, but they’ve won 5 of their last 6. I’m not sure how they’re doing it, but they are. I just hope they can hold it together until those guys get back.

OK, normal cerebrally whiny programming will resume momentarily.

Even the death rattle has a boppy J.J. Abrams score

A week or so ago in Salon Heather Havrilesky ripped TV a new one:

The golden age of television may be over just a few short years after it began. 2008 not only marked one of the worst years of TV in the last decade, but all of the momentum and promise of the past few years seemed to vanish in a haze of crappy, unoriginal new programming, lackluster sophomore shows, flaccid sitcoms and pointless cable comedies.

Deservedly so, too. Just months and years removed from the likes of The Wire, Six Feet Under and The Shield, we’re now faced with this harbinger of doom:

And has there ever been a more depressing sign of TV’s demise than the move by NBC to give Jay Leno, the epitome of a guy who’s flatly bad at his job but continues to be promoted for reasons utterly mysterious to mortal man, a whopping five hours of prime-time real estate, thereby saving themselves from the unpleasant work of finding worthwhile programming to fill their nightly 10 p.m. slot?

The Star also weighed in with a recap (less with the doomsday, more with the funny) of the past year’s horror show:

Herbie Hancock wins Album of the Year at the “Granny” Awards as music pundits slap their foreheads and check their calendars. Nope, it’s not 1983. Ratings plummet.

Cloris Leachman dresses like a rapper and asks, “What’s up, homeys?” in an old school hip-hop number on Dancing With the Stars. Viewers, horrified at the spectre of the 82-year-old Emmy winner in short shorts and rapper’s cap, vote her off the following week.

The concept of TV as art seems to be just about dead. Apart from the seven shows I actually care about — 30 Rock, Battlestar Galactica, The Daily Show, Friday Night Lights, Life, The Office and The Unit — I’m increasingly seeing the TV as nothing more than a sports & movie delivery device.

Just declare the 4 big American networks 24-hour reality TV channels and be done with it. HBO can buy Netflix and we’ll all be happy.

You guys hate animals, is that it?

Those of you who got our Christmas ‘card’ this year knows that we did something a little different. Last year we opted not to send out a card, and donated the money we’d have spent on cards, stamps, etc. to a charity. This year we once again decided to make a donation, but we let the card recipients (it was a URL sent out by email) choose the charity. We left the poll open until a few days ago, and the results are in. You’ll have to imagine the drum roll for yourselves.

Christmas charity donation

As you can see, the Daily Bread food bank won with 35% of the vote, so they’ll be getting another donation from us to go along with the one we made for hohoto. Thanks to everyone who voted, and thanks to PollDaddy for the awesome free poll software.

Note well

Friday night I thanked Nellie for putting up with four years of MBA nonsense by taking her to dinner at Nota Bene (not that a meal should cover it, but she’s easily bought off). It was our first time, and we were anxious to try it to feel the contrast with David Lee’s other restaurant Splendido. Which we loved. Duh.

We arrived early to have a drink at the bar. Best way to start the night off right for patrons: make their first drinks big ones. My Oban on the rocks was enough for two, and Nellie’s glass of Cabernet Franc was a solid one. Just as we were wondering if we should check in for our table, a server collected us and brought us into the main room. Both it and the bar are really quite nice, a good mix of polish and vibrancy.

Before I get to the food, I have to mention the service. At Splendido the service is as much part of the meal as the food, and they take care of you in every way possible. Nota Bene was slightly different: while the service was still excellent, it seemed like they were trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible, and let the food speak for itself. Servers, the sommelier, plate runners…we must have had a dozen different people come by the table, and never for more than a few seconds. If someone saw our wine glasses were half empty, they’d stop and pour, even if they’d never been to our table. The sommelier picked up my card and brought it to the station. It never felt rushed (the meal was 2.5 hours; how could it?), just efficient. It’s a tough balance to strike, but I appreciated it.

Now then, the food: I had the mozzarella di bufala w/ sundried tomato, grilled radicchio & olive oil to start; the grilled rock cornish hen w/ rosemary, lemon & bacon; and the flourless chocolate fudge cake w/ dulce de leche ice cream for dessert. Nellie had the mafalda pasta w/ truffle-scented mushroom bolognese to start; the mediterranean sea bass w/ forest mushrooms, potato gnocchi & basil pesto; and the small cheese plate (and Tawny port) for dessert. Well, she thought it would be small, but they brought three fairly large hunks of cheese for her enjoyment. One was roquefort, one beemster extra old and the other was…well, she can’t remember, but she seemed happy with it. This whole affair (after my initial glass of Okanagan Meritage and Nellie’s glass of Prosecco) was washed down with a bottle of 2007 Tenuta Maiolo Campania Lugana, a recommendation from the sommelier, and one that worked quite well.

The food was, as expected, exquisite. I can’t speak for Nellie, but my appetizer was delicious, my main was perfectly sized and seasoned (bacon + green beans…who knew that combination worked?!?) and my dessert was absurd. All things considered — food, service and the relatively low cost compared to similar dining experiences I’ve had elsewhere — it was a fantastic meal, one I’d like to repeat.

"They said I was gonna die soon but, maybe not."

There are some directors whose movies I will go see no matter what. The four who come to mind are Michael Mann, Werner Herzog, Danny Boyle and David Fincher. Three days ago we watched Boyle’s latest; today it was Fincher’s.

I’ve been anxiously awaiting The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (imdb | rotten tomatoes) since seeing the first trailer, as the first films pairing Fincher and Brad Pitt — Seven and Fight Club — are two of my all-time favourites. This was a much different offering than those films, but it still had the remarkable texture that Fincher is able to create in his projects. I didn’t think either of the lead performances (Pitt and Cate Blanchett) were that remarkable; instead what astounded me was how they showed Button reverse-age from a shriveled old man to a young boy, and it never looked fake or ridiculous, and the whole time it still looked like Brad Pitt. Good use of effects without being stupid about it. Nice.

I think it’ll take me a few days to figure out whether I really loved it or not. Right now I’m still wandering around that soft, dreamy headspace this sort of movie puts me in.

"Mistakes were made, the Devil played, and two arrows touched nose to nose."

Last week, flying home from Halifax, I read an excellent piece of journalism in Vanity Fair (which, truth be told, I picked up mainly to ogle Tina Fey). I must admit a certain lack of awareness of my surroundings when reading it, though: a jet in mid-flight is not the place to read a story about a catastrophic plane crash. Not because I’m superstitious, but because each page had the words ‘Air Crash’ in bold letters at the top, and that’s the kind of shit that makes other passengers jumpy. Anyway, the article is called “The Devil At 37,000 Feet” and I highly recommend you visit Vanity Fair to read the entire thing.

The core of the article was the time line of minor mistakes and small missteps that compounded until eventually a private jet collided with a passenger 737 over Brazil; the former managed to land safely, but the latter plummeted to the ground, killing all aboard. The story was tragic and frustrating, but it was also incredibly informative because of how author William Langewiesche told it, and revealed a key secondary theme: the accuracy of two arrows.

As it happened, these two flights were aimed directly at each other. The private jet should have been a thousand feet below the 737, but for a multitude of reasons it was not, and so they were on the same path. The problem was that they were on precisely the same path. At that altitude jets fly themselves, and with jets as new as these they flew at exactly 37,000 feet, exactly in the middle of flight corridors, with precision only an autopilot (working with high-tech GPS and altimeters) could achieve. As Langewiesche described it:

“Until recently, head-on airplanes mistakenly assigned the same altitude and route by Air Traffic Control would almost certainly have passed some distance apart, due to the navigation slop inherent in their systems. But this is no longer true. The problem for the [private jet] was that the [737] coming at them on the same assigned flight path had equipment that was every bit as precise.”

In the past, even if two pilots tried to hit each other it would be almost impossible, due to the hugeness of the sky. Langewiesche relates this here:

“In the United States a controller doing simulation research once mentioned to me the difficulty of directing two airplanes into each other even if you try. I answered that I was not surprised. Even the largest airplanes are small, and the starting point of collision avoidance has traditionally been a reality known as the theory of ‘the big sky.'”

And so, the systems designed to make flights safer (as they almost invariably do) in this case remove the possibility for luck to play a part in avoiding a collision.

At the end of the article Langewiesche explains this to some Caiapo Indians — on whose Amazonian land the plane crashed — using arrows as the analogy:

I asked the Caiapós to consider that in all the sky above the forest only these two airplanes had been in flight. It was as if in a space the size of the Caiapó village—no, all the way out to the road—you had shot two arrows in opposing directions, and they had collided. What were the odds? In the past it never would have happened. Even if you had assigned them identical flight paths, the arrows would have passed some distance apart because of the inherent inaccuracies of flight. But now better feathers have been invented, and have become required equipment for the high-speed designs. As a result, the new arrows are extraordinarily accurate, which allows more of them to be shot around, but with increasing reliance on tightly coupled systems of control. The sky is just as big as it ever was, but the margin for error has shrunk. And when the systems fail? That is what happened over the Caiapós’ land. The paradox was precision. Mistakes were made, the Devil played, and two arrows touched nose to nose.

Again, I strongly encourage you to read the full article. Don’t worry, it won’t make you scared to fly…though it may give you pause before booking any flight that crosses Brazilian airspace. The website also contains an interview with Langewiesche, and downloadable audio files of both planes’ cockpit recordings.

Movies with hyphens

Forgot to blog about two movies I watched recently:

WALL-E (imdb | rotten tomatoes) was a marvel…that they could wring so much emotion and empathy out of a robotic main character who doesn’t speak is a testament not just to Pixar’s technical wizardry, but to their storytelling prowess as well. Some people railed about the anti-consumerism message in the film, but I think it’s just Pixar reading the zeitgeist. For example, two weeks ago I heard my nine-year-old nephew wondering aloud about sales/marketing tactics at Wendy’s…”I wonder if they call it a Frosty because that makes kids think about Frosty the Snowman?”, “Did they ask you to biggie-size it? Because they’ll always ask you to biggie-size it!”, and so on. Apparently my nephew has read No Logo.

Stop-loss (imdb | rotten tomatoes) was…well, something less than a marvel. It wasn’t terrible by any means, but I don’t think it revealed anything new about the Iraq war, or war in general. It was about some great-looking soldiers and their girlfriends (it was an MTV production, after all) dealing with war in the way that lets them look as cool as possible while still looking dramatically tortured. Because of that I found it difficult to take the movie too seriously.

As is customary

As is customary we spent New Year’s Day in a movie theatre. We watched Slumdog Millionaire (imdb | rotten tomatoes), even though I’d seen it at the festival, because I promised Nellie I would, and anyway I loved it so I hardly minded watching it again. We also saw Milk (imdb | rotten tomatoes), which was excellent. Everything you’ve heard about Sean Penn’s performance is true, and every other actor with a major role — James Franco, Josh Brolin and Emile Hirsch — was great as well. Just once, though, I would like to see Diego Luna in a film where I didn’t want to punch him in the face.

As is customary I will not publish any lists of my favourite films, music or songs until later in 2009. I never see all the big films or listen to all the big albums before the end of the year, so it’s usually March before I weigh in. Not that any of you really care, but I enjoy deluding myself like this.

2008 annual report: lassitude

Perhaps it’s just that I’m in fuzzy-headed vacation mode, but I can’t really think of anything very big that happened to me in 2008. No moves. No job changes. No adjustment to marital status. No new kids, or even nephews or nieces. No accomplishments to speak of, except maybe finishing the MBA, but that was more of a four-year event that just happened to conclude in October. Likewise the 5th wedding anniversary; cool, but it wasn’t like we accomplished it all in 2008.

Even our trips weren’t that exciting this year. Our trip to BC was just as spectacular this time as it was two years ago, but a lot of it was familiar territory. Four (!) trips to Nova Scotia for various reasons were fun, but not exactly new adventures.

Sure, I watched 108 new movies. I got 17 books, 18 DVDs and 22 albums. I wrote 410 blog posts (including this one) and lord knows how many tweets. But I’m pretty sure none of that adds to up to actually doing anything. Wait, hang on, that’s not true…I did do something: I gained ten pounds. Oh, and I gave up on vegetarianism. So I have that going for me.

I’m pretty sure that every year of my life — the ones I can remember, at least — has been better than the last.  2008 was no different; my life in 2008 was better than in 2007, and I continually feel lucky at having the luxury to be troubled by the petty details of an easy and enjoyable life. However, it doesn’t feel like I had much to do with any forward momentum my life is enjoying, and I don’t like that feeling. I’ve had a sense of ennui for the last few weeks; I think now I know why.

Fare thee well, 2008. I won’t miss you, but I will love you.