Pye in the Face

Being invited to weddings is a good thing. You’ve done something right over the course of your life and been blessed with many friends. But is it too much to ask of all of my friends, many of whom don’t know each other and never will due to geography, to get together and space these things out a little bit?

My summer wedding total is now up to 4, count ‘em - 4. And they are all in the month of September. I’m going to be running around like a chicken with its head cut off, and the executioner is going to be Williams Sonoma and Air Canada. Your wedding day is about me, afterall.

Harry has just learned a valuable lesson from his younger, hungrier and far more sadistic brother, Charlie.

Having just spent my allotted writing time on a doozy over at my SEM Blog, I’m forced to fire off a quickie here on PITF. But it’s a doozy of a quickie - I haven’t laughed this hard at an annoying YouTube forward in a very long time. Trust me - watch it, laugh, and keep your extremities away from Charlie at all times.

December 15th, 2007 saw the umpteenth annual Best Buddies’ Christmas Party at Jason and Amy’s house in Toronto. Thank you for the hospitality guys, and I’m glad I was finally in the country for one of these. It was no surprise that I had my video camera on hand for most of the weekend and last night I edited the gargantuan mess into what you’ll see below: Among other things, very cute kiddies, a bad game of fetch, home made Baileys, Sears Portrait Studio, spanking, bad language and my goofy laugh way too close to the microphone. Please for to enjoy…

Merry Christmas again to all my friends and family who read this silly blog, and I love you’se all. Thanks to Amy for the amazing decorating job and I suppose Jason played a role in the party production too. The accompanying photo gallery can be found here.

Folks - your IMs, texts and emails in the 2 days since I posted the short blurb about my mother’s illness and Shepherd’s death pulled me right out of the doldrummy tailspin and I am forever grateful. Janet and I arrived in Florida Wednesday and spent the night in my parent’s trailer park, the residents of which are some of the nicest, most caring people I’ve ever met. I now know why coming down here was so important to my mother, although we’re still pushing for this to be the last year. As we sat around the fire enjoying a pot luck dinner in our honor, Janet and I were frequently pulled aside and given one-on-one insights (I guess you could call them) from their many 5th wheel residing buddies. Yesterday we met both of our parent’s doctors during separate appointments on opposite sides of Melbourne and that left us feeling better as well. My Dad in particular has an amazing doctor, social worker and nurse in his corner. Combined the last two days have provided us with some optimism and comfort, not to mention the nice messages from all of y’all.

As we drank multiple 1.5 liter bottles of white wine and ate friend chicken around a roaring propane blaze surrounded in turn by RVs and cats on leashes, I got a text message from my breeder. She informed me she’d located another young litter in our area and asked if I wanted her to look into it. She was devastated by the loss of the puppies and I really appreciate the way she sucked it up and tracked down another option for myself and some of the other disappointed families via her network of peers. I immediately got in touch with the backup breeder via BlackBerry and a few minutes later I had photos. After some more back and forth regarding family history, bloodlines, the size of the parents and finally price I had dibs on the only male in a litter of 8 born just one week after Shepherd and his unfortunate departed siblings.

Perhaps caught up in the heat of the moment, my sister told me to inform the breeder she wanted a female from the same litter too! So in one Chardonnay and grease soaked evening, which began as a very somber and morose affair indeed, we’d resurrected not only the notion of Shepherd Pye but found him a sister to boot! Janet will be getting photos of the remaining females after one other family takes first pick of the 7 little girls, but those are still great odds - and how much can you tell from a photo of a week old puppy anyway? It’s really all about the raising and the training. This is a photo of Shepherd 2.0 who greatly resembles the original in both size, coloring and genetics. I will post photos of the already named Pumpkin Pye as soon as Janet chooses her. Sometimes things go from bad to worse… and then backwards a few notches to “cool”. Punky and Shep will not be stopped!

Update: Janet has decided to name her dog Rhubarb Pye - “Ruby” for short.

Shepherd opened his eyes for the first time last weekend, and here`s the little guy`s first photo as an optically-enabled canine. Sounds kind of like C.H.O.M.P.S. when you put it like that - Enjoy!

My little, hairy bundle of joy was delivered yesterday to his proud parents Pixie and Oscar. I had first pick of the litter and I chose Shepherd Pye, or ‘Puppy C’ as he was formerly known, based on his classic Boston Terrier markings. The breeder herself said that if she was going to keep one of the litter for herself, Shep would have been the one. All of the puppies are cute, don’t get me wrong, but if you’re going to pay the purebred price you want the animal with the best stud value, etc. Click here for a photo of proud little Pixie and her litter, and here’s the wee man of the hour himself.

I’ll be picking Shepherd up around the 14th of February and am allowed to go and visit him as of January 23rd (7 weeks from now). It’ll be a long wait, as the breeder is just down the road from me, but she is very serious about protecting the puppies from diseases and meeting too many new people before they’re of a very specific age. As this is my first dog, and I’m only half way through the first of several dog books I’ve collected leading up to this, I will defer to her in all matters of dogginess. Wow - this is really happening.

It’s sad and quite a bit shitty to be sitting alone on what is usually my very favorite night of the entire year. The night before American Thanksgiving is when you’re supposed to travel back to your home town, hit a local bar or house party and get sillier than a horn of plenty with your high school friends whom you only ever see once a year on this night. When I returned from England in 1999 after about 5 years away from the Concord scene, I thought the tradition was long since dead. Little did I know the fun we had yet to have over the next 7 years. The Red House, the reunions, the Razzi. Many of my contemporaries couldn’t care less about staying in touch with their old school crew and that’s their prerogative - God forbid I should someday have a family and “normal life”. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way, and I sure miss y’all tonight.

The best Thanksgivingy passtime I could come up with for my self this evening was to sift back through folders and folders of old photos and assemble my favorites into a 60-deep Ghosts of Thanksgiving Past gallery. I hope you laugh if you were there and snicker a little bit even if you weren’t. At the very least you can watch us lose our hair. I’ll surely be tasting Jimmy’s deep fried turkey tomorrow as I catch up on work while all my American clients take the day off to stuff their respective faces. Great memories, great friends and trust me kids - there’s no way I’ll miss it two years in a row.

Yesterday I took my oath and was sworn in as a United States Citizen in Boston’s awesome and historic Faneuil Hall. I sat in the main gallery with nearly 400 other people from every corner of the world who, like me, had decided to go through the long and arduous nationalization process. I sat near a friendly Russian and had a great conversation with my new buddy from Ghana who’s name I have no idea how to spell - so I’m not going to insult him by trying. Hopefully he will check in here himself and set me straight. We told many jokes, poked fun at some of the more breathtaking patriotic apparel and shared a real awe of the absolute hell many of the people in that room had to endure to get there. Congratulations to us all, and good luck in Texas, buddy. I’ll see you in Canada when you come to visit.

Tonight we’re having an informal gathering to mark the occasion of Citizen Pye at Silvertone in downtown Boston. If you’re not looking to shoot me for any reason, I invite you to drop in. We’ll be in the back room after 9pm. Here is a photo taken by my sister outside Faneuil after the ceremony yesterday. The document I’m holding cost me roughly $3,000 in terms of fees, plane tickets and lawyers - but it is beautiful and worth every cent. I only wish the passport photo used wasn’t taken so soon after I bashed in my face last December. I’m lucky for that reason my application wasn’t tossed into the circular file in the Tip O’Neil Building.

While we’re on the subject of photos, I have added a few new galleries to the site. Check out the rest of the photos from yesterday as well as various other shots from my latest Boston trip: Dave’s a Yankee Doodle Dandy. Then have a gander at the photos I took last weekend when Jason and Amy came to visit me in Portland. It’s a beautiful part of the country and the leaf peeping was sublime: Best Buddies Awesome Autumn Invitational. Also feel free to politely peruse photos from a Halloween party where I appeared as Indiana Jones, as well as a collection from another recent jaunt to Newport Rhode Island: October 2007. And finally, you might just find a picture of yourself in my tribute to the last few Halloween celebration ingeniously entitled: Ghosts of Halloweens Past. Having read and viewed all of the aforementioned, if you’re not thoroughly sick of my nutty life - you really should be. Looking forward to seeing many of you tonight.

Tomorrow I set off for Boston, yet again, for the final piece of my American Citizenship puzzle. I will be sworn in as a bonafied Yank Thursday at 12 noon inside Faneuil Hall. It’s been a year-long effort - much to the amusement of Air Canada’s coffers, but I am beyond happy and excited to finally be able to hand back my Green Card and start enjoying the perks of being a proper American. I’m still not entirely sure what those entail, but I’m hopeful.

I touch down in Beantown tomorrow afternoon at 5pm and will be hanging out on Hanover Street (Paradiso/Volle Nole) until my sister is finished work and decides to come to the North End and get me on our eventual way to her place in Medford. Thursday is the ceremony, followed by liquory silliness… and then the real silliness begins Friday night when Janet is said to be throwing me some sort of patriotic pant-puller either at her house or in a Beantown bar. If you’re interested in joining the fray - call my sister. Or, just show up. I’ll post details here on the blog as soon as I have them. You’re also completely welcome not to give a toss.

Those of you who know Janet and I are aware that brain health is a subject very close to my family’s heart right now and your gestures will be most appreciated by us all. On October 24th, I will be putting my brain to work in support of the Firefly Foundation, a charitable organization dedicated to advancing brain health. The Brain Games will test how quickly I think, how well I remember, and how responsive I am to the world around me. This quick and fun online event will provide an assessment of my brain fitness. Donate to me today and help me reach my fundraising goal. Thank you in advance for your support. You can learn more and make a donation to sponsor me here.

Update: Many thanks to Jaime, Suzanne, Chris, Heather and everyone else who sponsored me.

Joey Bishop, the last living member of the infamous Rat Pack, died today at age 89. Bishop was the least well known of the final incarnation of the pack that would be made famous by Frank, Dean and Sammy - but he had a long and eclectic career in show biz none the less. Here he is with Orson Welles and Dino from the Dean Martin Show in the late 70’s. The straight man to Dean’s straight man.

“Charlie Calucci likes the way I catch rivets…” Thanks for the memories, Joey and company. You’ll all be entertaining this cat for many, many years to come. Ring-a-ding-ding, St. Peter, babe. The martinis will be flowing in Heaven tonight.

Two dear friends of mine got married this past Saturday, and I’ve just completed a wedding gallery of the extremely fun day. I flew down from Ottawa last Wednesday and extended the trip beyond the weekend in order to visit friends and get in some office time - but it was really all about the weddin’. The way the ceremony and reception were organized really stood out in my mind, as the whole day seemed planned in the interests of making it ‘low-impact’ for the guests. Semi-formal, private home, shuttle back to the hotel, great room rate - and the ceremony itself lasted barely 15 minutes. The elegant simplicity of things in no way diminished any traditions - it was easily the most emotionally charged wedding I’ve ever been to.

We love ya, kids. Here’s to a great life together, and I hope you’re currently ruining bedsprings all over Martha’s Vineyard. Enjoy yourself, Chrissy. We have a lot of work to do when you get back.

Actually there are plenty, but they’re not going to be coming from me. Here are the best (my favorites) of this year’s tributes and commentaries. I will be adding to this list throughout the week:

NYC.Gov Tribute

Remembrance & Resistance

Tributes in Light

America Attacked

Smack dab in the middle of some tactical reverse psychology on a six-year-old yesterday, I was reminded of a poem I loved when I too was a wee’un. It’s by Dennis Lee, and I swear I still knew almost all of it - even 25 years later.

When they bring me a plate
Full of stuff that I hate
Like spinach and turnips and guck.
I sit very straight
and I look at the plate
and I quietly say to it: “Yuck!”

Little kids bawl,
cause I used to be small
and throw it all over the tray.
But now I am three
and much more like me
so I “Yuck!” ’til they take it away.

But sometimes my Dad
gets terrifically mad
and he says, “Don’t you drink from that cup!”
But he can’t say it right,
cause he’s not very bright.
So I trick him and drink it all up.

Then he gets up and roars
and he stomps on the floor
and he hollers, “I warn you, don’t eat!”
He counts up to ten
and I trick him again,
and I practically finish my meat.

Then I start on the guck,
and my Daddy goes, “Yuck!”
and scrunches his eyes ’til they hurt.
So I shovel it in
and he grins a big grin
and then we all have dessert!

Granted, she ‘accidentally ‘dropped and smashed it shortly after I was finished my masterpiece. So the joke may have been on me. Happy Easter, regardless!