There was a maple syrup festival in Perth. A bit of serendipity too, because I had just run out of my last cache of real maple syrup, stored in a bottle of Crown Royal my mom gave me.
Perth is a great for a getting to visit a small town without having to drive too far. We missed the pancake breakfast in the morning, but made up for it by having maple sausages.
I bought me a bottle of amber maple syrup. Apparently, it’s thicker and richer than the regular maple syrup.
We cover a lot of ground on the drive, stuff I wouldn’t admit to just anyone. It’s good to have a set amount of time for some one on one. We see each other at parties, but it’s never time by ourselves.
We get there a few hours early because it isn’t so much about the game as hanging out with the two friends I don’t see enough. There’s a cooler full of snow and beer, and the food is coming in protein; pigs-in-blankets, ground beef nachos, chicken fingers, crab dip, meat balls.
For a night, I’m with guys who punch arms, exchange verbal jabs, and laugh at blue collar jokes. Two little girls run around, and no one ever lets that change them. Now they’re fathers, but they’ll always be real men.
A video I shot as a Christmas present for Aaron and Karen. This was the first day I tried my “poor man’s steadycam”, and aside from a few shaky shots from fiddling around while trying to capture everything, the panning works very well.
I was thinking about saving the video for when Ryan gets married, but figured I may be dead before that happens, so I decided to give it to them now. There are so many notes in the production of the video that I feel like I need a 10-minute directors commentary to cover all the details. Alas, I’ll leave the insight up to the viewer.
How can so many people love one little boy? It seems almost impossible.
I probably looked like this the whole weekend, cause it was non-stop awesomeness.
Last week, Aaron asked me if I wanted to go to The Japanese Village. I thought it was just to hang out, since we hadn’t had a guy’s night in a while, so I didn’t clue in that it was for my birthday until the day of. Aaron told me I could order anything I want, as it was his treat, but I ordered the only thing I ever get when I’m there; the filet mignon cooked medium rare, which I think is the best in the city. It was good to hang out with him and Trolley again.
And, of course, silliness is always present with these guys around.
John’s been working two straight months, without a weekend off. The last time was when he came to Ottawa to visit. Between all the activities, we only had enough time to watch one movie — American Graffiti — and between the two of us, we could sing every song that came from this film based in the 60s (me covering The Platters, him covering everything else).
I usually only get to see him once a year, so twice in two months was a special treat.
I’d love to do games nights on a regular basis, but people aren’t available on the same days, so I used my birthday as an excuse to get as many people as possible together for a giant Cranium party. I told them that instead of giving me a present, they should just come to the party. It worked, and we had enough for four teams of three. Some people also brought snacks, like honey mustard pretzels, carrot cupcakes, and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.
It was the highlight of the weekend.
On Friday, my dad called me to wish me a happy birthday, and told me he was in town for 10 days. We made plans to have dim sum. John came too, which is always interesting to see his reactions to what food is as the token white guy. I had a phoenix talons for the first time1, because I was feeling adventurous, and I have to say that they weren’t bad, but I didn’t care for them either. They’re too hard to eat, and the sauce wasn’t to my taste. It was strange to see both John and my dad at the same place, and in Ottawa instead of Toronto.
I told my dad he could probably sit and observe one of my Tai Chi classes, so he could see what I do, but he wasn’t interested, and I’ll admit that the indifference hurt a bit. Afterward, I asked John what he thought as a 3rd party observer, and he told me I had a good relationship with my dad. I’ll take his word for it.
I needed this weekend so much. To recharge. To stop thinking about things. To get completely wasted. It felt like it was my birthday the whole weekend, and I wondered what I did to deserve it all.
A good wingman says “no problem bro” when you ask him to go with you, and takes it as an opportunity to hang out.
He listens and commiserates and backs you up on your feelings when you’re catching him up.
He even pays for dinner when he’s the one doing you a favour.
He keeps a lookout in the sea of people so he can be aware of the situation and warn you.
He stands facing the door so you can have your back to it when talking to him, and won’t be caught off guard.
He teases you about the cute ones, just like the good old days, when you went drinking in places too loud to talk.
He leads when you’re too nervous or self-conscious to do anything, and he follows without question when you take action.
He has a great time, and thanks you for the night.
(This is how behind I am on posting my pictures.)
Canada Day is always a way for us to catch up with each other once a year (for those from out of town), to see how everyone is doing over some barbecue and baked goods. There are always new faces, familiar faces, and this time, it was a little different, with three babies that weren’t there last year. My friends are starting to have kids.
Sometimes it’s strange to see Aaron with a baby. He’s what we consider an adult now, a grown-up, a father. Yet he’s still the same Aaron (which is a good thing), with the same stylish clothes, the same interests, the same ebullient attitude, except he’s holding a piece of himself.
AND DID YOU SEE THE LITTLE PECK AT THE END? AAHHHHHHH SO CUTE1.
That’s what I keep thinking when I look at these pictures.
A few weekends ago, Aaron invited me to ride with him during an out-of-town cruise with his auto club. I initially accepted, until I found out that was the same day and time Frédéric and Misun were leaving Canada. So I had to turn Aaron down, since I didn’t know when I’d see them again.
That was also the day and time that it hailed for about an hour — in late spring. And on taking a turn, the hail made Aaron lose his traction. Both him, and the person driving behind him, spun out of control. The person behind hit a guard rail. Aaron went into a ditch.
The impact on the rocks was on the passenger side. Where I was going to be sitting. And it was strong enough to shatter the back windshield.
Thankfully, Aaron is alright, with the x-rays showing that he only has tissue damage. I may not have been so lucky.
Introducing Ryan Kevin Gensey, Aaron’s new baby boy, delivered right on the projected date. I bought him the turtle you see in the corner of his basket there.
I had the chance to hold him before he was a day old in the hospital. At first, I approached this idea with some trepidation, seeing as how I carry the preconceived notion of how fragile baby’s necks are, but I couldn’t resist. He’s a lot lighter than Dolly, but somehow just as warm.
Aaron has always wanted a boy first and a girl second — so the older brother can take care of the younger sister — and it looks like everything is falling into the plan.
I’m now officially an uncle.
Sometimes, all I need is a friend to support me.
Even the times when I know I’m stupid or illogical. Especially those times, I just want someone to listen and agree.
I remember Aaron going through a rough patch a couple years ago. He told me he couldn’t let Rob know, because Rob would have jumped in his car and busted open some heads. Aaron confided in me because he needed an objective opinion to work through the situation, whereas Rob may have hurt more than help.
Even though I agreed, I felt like Rob’s ardent personality was a sign of true brotherhood. It doesn’t matter what the logic is, it doesn’t matter what the reasons are, your enemies are his enemies. It’s almost like he’s blinded by his love.
And as much as there are times when Aaron doesn’t tell Rob something, I’m sure there are times when doesn’t tell me things either because he needs an fervent friend. He needs someone who will take his side no matter what. I know I do.
Don’t get me wrong; I have plenty of friends I can go to for an honest opinion. In fact, I go to them more often than not. John’s always there to contradict me and keep me in check, Pat’s there to rationalize the situation, and Aaron’s there to help me find a solution. But every now and then, the unconditional support of an ardent friend gives me strength and courage more than anything else.
Everyone should have such security. To be able to call someone at any time of day who’ll be there in a heartbeat1. Everyone should have a friend like Rob in their lives.
The ardent friends are just as important as the objective ones.
At the rehearsal dinner I was lucky enough to meet Dennis, Aaron’s older cousin from Edinburgh, Scotland, and we immediately hit it off. Some people don’t so much talk with you as at you, whereas talking to others can be like dragging a stick through the mud, but for us it was the perfect balance. The art of conversation is dead, we agreed, and finding each other was like two Masonic brothers from different lodges meeting for the first time.
Pat later told me that, on arriving, he didn’t say hi to me for fear of interrupting us. Our faces were so intense, focused on each other, he said. Dennis and I exchanged contact info, and he offered me a place to stay if I ever went to Scotland. Normally, I’d brush off such an invitation as a glib pleasantry, if it weren’t for the fact that he repeated it five or six times over both nights. In return, I offered him a place to stay if he ever wanted to give Nana and Popa (whom he calls June and Vic) a break. It’s funny, I never knew their names until then.
I also had a good talk with Rob while Aaron and Chris were outside smoking cigars that night (which turned into the morning) before the wedding. We bonded over our love of Aaron, and I got to probe Rob, who’s deep enough for an entire entry I’ll be posting soon.
Before I gave my speech, I showed this video as a way for everyone, but most importantly Aaron and Karen, to know how the groom’s side felt. Notice the keg-can of Heineken in Trolley’s shots.
I learned a lot about being an interviewer, about asking the right questions, about trying not to laugh at funny stories. You can hear in the way I ask Jay (yellow shirt), “In what way?”, that my cheeks are tightened in a big smile. I also realized that I shouldn’t finish other peoples thoughts, which is a bad habit of mine. The interviewer shouldn’t present any bias.
Everyone told me afterward that they were touched by how Aaron spoke from the heart. The interesting thing is that people were laughing at parts I didn’t expect them to laugh at. In my speech too. I don’t write to be funny; I can’t be a funny person why I try. It happens rather accidentally.
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The speech did go well. I like how people started saying, “Woo hoo!” and “Cheers to that!” for the toast. If you listen closely after I give my thanks, there’s one person who claps well before anyone else, and I’ll forever be wondering who it was and why they were clapping with such vigor.
The ceremony was short and sweet, though it was a little cold. The Prince Charlie jacket doesn’t breathe, so the groomsmen were warm for most of it. I felt bad for the bridesmaids though, who wore backless, sleeveless dresses.
I caught up with Nick and Alison, whom I hope to see for a few photo projects down in that area at some point during the summer (I wish I was able to bring my camera to the wedding though). I got to know Steph a little better, and you could tell from the way she talks that she really cares about Trolley, which was important for me to find out. Hanging out with Jay was a blast too; he’s a really fun, easy-going guy, and I can totally see why he’s such good friends with Aaron. Pat did some robotics for us to the Scottish dance music, and I had the opportunity to introduce him to Dennis, hoping that both conversationalists would hit it off.
We danced, we mingled, we ate, we laughed. Weddings always offer great opportunities for such things. What other chance would I have to wear something as fun as the Scottish regalia (although Dennis explained to me that Ontario and Canada have their own tartans, and that I’d have the right to wear one if I wanted).
A good time was had by all.
The bachelor party went better than I could have ever planned. Aaron wanted a weekend where the groomsmen could bond with each other so initial plans were to head to Montreal, but I suggested to host it at my house, where I felt like I had the most control.
Friday night was drinking with everyone at the Honest Lawyer. We got the biggest table there, and for a couple hours it felt like we owned the bar with our large and rowdy group. There was much tomfoolery to which our lips are sealed, as is the custom for any bachelor party, the footage of which will forever be locked in the vault. There’s nothing wrong with a drink or three though.
I even moonwalked (or some reasonable facsimile thereof) around the perimeter of the bar, weaving between groups of people, put up by Pat for 10 points. He said the funniest thing was seeing everyone’s reaction. I was too busy making sure I didn’t bump into anyone to notice that people stopped what they were doing and turned their heads as I passed them. When I closed the circle the table cheered and I felt all eyes in the place on me. Something I normally avoid at all costs, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.
It was also a meeting of the four bosses, the last time of which was almost a year ago during the birthday rounds. I was comforted knowing that Aaron was at my front, Trolley to his right, and Pat to mine at the table. The next meeting will be at the wedding itself this weekend. Exciting!
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By Saturday we reduced to the core group for the rest of the tournament, which was groomsmen and MC. You know you’re old when conversation over breakfast is mainly about bacon, arts and crafts, and cooking shows. The pound of bacon challenge was worth 5 points, as evidenced by the plate dedicated to pork, which Aaron and Rob easily achieved.
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Even though he didn’t show up until Saturday afternoon, I got to meet Jay, who was the only one out of Aaron’s crew that I hadn’t met. The rest of the weekend was spent game playing, Nerf warring, ultimate fighting in the backyard, and hanging out.
In the end, there just wasn’t enough time to do everything planned. I was also spreading myself thin between recording video, taking photos, and acting as organizer/host. Sometimes I wish I could be part of the action, but it’s more worth it to me to make sure the right angles, focus, compositions are taken. Still an absolute blast.
“You’re the perfect woman.”
She realizes this as she writes down my chest, waist, and hip size, then asks rhetorically, “What are the typically ideal measurements?”.
Aaron and I could only look at each other, as we had no idea.
“36–26–36.”
“Wow, so you’re a really hot chick!”, says Aaron.
Hi-LAR-ious. Years of confidence I’ve gained, girlfriends convincing me that I’m not too skinny, gone.
“And how much do you weigh?”
“(Pause)…113″.
“After he’s had a buffet”, Aaron adds. My friend the comedian. To console me, he says, “It’s okay. Remember, you’ll be paired up with Jenn in the party”.
My counterpart. The tiniest girl I know.
In the last few years I’ve been to weddings for other friends, but Aaron’s the first out of my core group to get married (although Pat got engaged before him). To pay tribute to his culture, he wants the wedding to be a bit Scottish — something his Popa is especially pleased about.
As a groomsman, I’ll be wearing a kilt. As a Chinese guy, I’ll be feeling a little out-of-place.
He asked me to give him a hand in shopping for the regalia. What a culture shock. Looking through catalogues of claidheamh, sporrans, Sgian Dubhs, Ghillies Brogues. I can’t even pronounce the names. My tongue wasn’t made for these kinds of inflections.
“It’ll take you guys longer to get dressed than the bride”.
Before we leave I remember to ask, “Can we go traditional?”, with Aaron adding, “My Popa would be pretty upset if we didn’t”.
Traditional. The euphemism for commando. The euphemism for bear-ass naked.
“Don’t worry, everything is dry-cleaned”, say the woman reassuringly.
It’s only after we leave that I realize everything but the shirt is made of wool.
I’ll be scratching my balls through the whole service.
Aaron and Karen’s annual New Years party was a fun time in a relaxing sense, much lower-key than last year, with fewer people and casual clothes. I don’t believe there was anyone who felt out-of-place, which meant that one could easily move from group to group without any feelings of intrusion. So that I didn’t have to worry about catching a bus home early, they lent me the use of their SUV for me to drive home.
I’m especially pleased with this set of photos. I think I was able to show the mood appropriately, without over-exposing the flash too much. My two favourite are with Sarah in her scarf and with Aaron handing the lowball to Rob. The former because of the pure chance that worked out in capturing the moment along with the wonderful texture of her scarf, and the latter because of how strong the two sets of hands look, like a firm handshake without touching.
Over breakfast, a generous gorging of sausage links, over easy, and hashed browns, the realization dawns on me that out of the eight people seated, four of us have worked in the same office.
In fact, three of us had the same job; while Aaron was working as a developer, Pat was brought in to replace Jacques, and I was hired when Pat left. What a small world. That’s how Pat and I met Aaron, how Aaron met Jacques, and it was only on that day, four years later, that Pat was introduced to Jacques.
Now we can sit around a breakfast table, filling ourselves with greasy food and caffeine in preparation for a weekend of gaming.
How long ago those days seem, working in an unmotivated government office, dating someone I thought I wanted to make my wife. I remarked to Pat how funny it was to believe back then that I knew what I wanted in life, and with a smirk, he asked me, “You think you know what you want now?”.
The question was rhetorical, of course. Sometimes Pat knows me better than I know myself. In his way, he was reminding me that even now, after all my contemplation and all my conclusions, I still may not have figured that out yet.
Do I really know what I want?
Not really. In my career, my relationships, my short-term life I can say that there’s a path I’m moving towards, but I also know that this will most likely change. As I learn and grow, as new goals are met and made, what I want changes too.
And perhaps being sure of this is what I really want.