Un Dieu, Une Reine, Un Coeur

Rumours are rampant that Union Pacific will buy back one of its gigantic "Big Boy" steam engines and restore it to operation. If restored, the behemoth would be far and away the largest operable locomotive in existence--not to mention a sight to see for any train fan in the world.

A shipload of diesels was being unloaded at a port in Gabon. Someone didn't check the loading cables before picking it up. Back to the shops!

Tonight I had the privilege of doing something I haven't had the opportunity to do in a long time: watch an episode of Agatha Christie's Poirot. It was a first-season episode, "Problem at Sea". It was filmed over twenty years old but is still entertaining.

I haven't read the story for a while, but I could remember a major change they made for the adaptation: the story was set on a Mediterranean ocean liner while the TV episode is set on a chartered yacht--a practical change since 1920s liners are hard to come by these days. Another significant change was the insertion of Captain Hastings into a story that did not feature him at all. There were other minor changes, but all of them got me thinking about the early stories compared to the more recent, and reviled, adaptations of Poirot novels.

The original hour-long episodes were really no more guilty than the novel adaptations of making great alterations for dramatic purposes--inserting Miss Lemon and Chief Inspector Japp into every story to create the Holmesian detective-sidekick-woman-police inspector quartet being the biggest. Others include politicizing characters in ways not seen in the originals, with themes including Irish Home Rule, women's rights, and the Mafia. Characters are added, dropped, and renamed at the drop of a hat.

Aside from "Murder on the Orient Express", which changes a key part of Poirot's personality for the purpose of increased drama, the current writers cut and paste just as much as the original writers did. Why am I, and other fans, more swift to judge the new team, then? Was the charm of the original episodes enough to make their sins forgivable? Are they making more significant alterations now than before? Are we just getting crotchety in our old age?

Note that this does not apply to the newest Miss Marple adaptations. Inserting her into stories that were not hers in the slightest (a pet peeve of the creator in the 60s) and changing the identity of the murderer are still beneath contempt. Mrs. Christie's grandson has some explaining to do!

On my childhood model train layout, there was a large obstacle in the form of a steep ramp to go from one level to the next. Not every engine could climb the hill because of the grade. Now, several years after said layout has been taken apart, I find a solution. FROG SNOT!

You apply a thin coating on a couple of wheels and get an instant boost in traction. If you find the electrical connection is going down, scrape some of it off with a knife. Yet another product to make life easier for those of us who want to model trains without having the time or ability to make a masterpiece in the first go.

If only it were easier to keep them dust-free.

God moves in mysterious ways--and fast. This Wednesday I have an interview at Toronto Botanical Garden in the north end of town. It's a permanent position with benefits and it's something I think I can enjoy far more.

Moving to Toronto, not so much. I was looking at apartments in the area, hoping to cut my commute down. Unfortunately it appears that the chief export of North York is commie blocks and bedbugs. Don't think I can stretch for a condo just yet, so I had a look farther south towards midtown; found a couple of nice art deco apartment blocks worth pursuing. Glenn Gould lived in one of them. Probably out of my price range, though. Ah, well; I'll find something.

Things are finally beginning to settle down now. I had furniture delivered over the weekend: a sofa and a queen-sized bed. Finally I won't be using the same piece of furniture for both tasks. The rest of my furniture has been slowly moving down here from Cambridge, piece by piece. It's going to be a bit tougher considering it's all been brought down in a Toyota Corolla so far. Bookshelves are going to be a tight squeeze.

Work has been steady. The busiest part of event season is coming up soon. Should make my daily workload entertaining, to say the least. I'm mostly keeping up with it all, though. All the admin workers had Monday off, which was a refreshing change. I'll be heading up this weekend on the train for Father's Day weekend.

The biggest accomplishment so far since moving here? I finally have a doctor in the same city I live in. Haven't had that for two years. Now I just need a dentist and podiatrist and I'll finally be able to make myself at home. I've been thinking of finding a new place, and am looking at one tomorrow, but I'm not holding out much hope. I can't really afford to pay first and last month's rent right now, and the place I'm looking at doesn't include utilities. The sample prices she gave over the phone for gas, water, and hydro were insane. Much as I'd like to escape the used-up hag in the basement and the daily piano recitals, I'm better off staying here for now.

I would like to change my TV/phone/internet provider, though. I have phone through cable, and it goes down every time there's an electrical storm. That won't be particularly useful in an emergency, especially since I have a long password on my cell. If I switch to Bell satellite I'll get a package that offers more than I have now for ten dollars less a month. Plus I'll have Turner Classic Movies again; Cogeco Cable doesn't offer them and it irritates me to no end.

My grandmother was out of the hospital at last and recovering at home--until today, when she ended up back in hospital thanks to complications. Hopefully nothing minor; I haven't heard anything since this afternoon so I'm going to hope for the best. Meanwhile, they brought my grandfather to the ER on Sunday. He's been feeling extra-run down, he's had chest congestion, his colour has been off, and his feet are the size of steel-toed boots when he isn't wearing anything on them. He's seeing a specialist tomorrow; ideally this will get him fixed up for the next little while.

Remember this little boy, one of the kittens born at our house a few years ago? Well, THIS is him now:





The owners say he doesn't eat any more than their other cat, so we're thinking it's genetic. Nibs isn't exactly a featherweight either, so there's reason to think so. And then there's the fact that Nibs' fur pattern bears a striking resemblance to our recently departed Mr.'s. No need to ask "Who's your Daddy?", methinks.

My time at Hôtel-Dieu Grace Hospital Foundation is over and done with. Starting tomorrow: Windsor Regional Hospital Foundation. Training starts at 8am, half an hour before the usual start time of 8:30am. Not looking forward to that part of the deal but it must be done.

Thinking back, I took a real chance working at that place after the new boss took over. As I've mentioned previously, he's a city councillor. Anyone who's read a newspaper from Ontario will know that jobs in Windsor aren't exactly in abundance at the moment. Hell, our job creation stats are starting to make Detroit's look good by comparison. I should be grateful I wasn't put into a cage outside city hall and treated like a sideshow exhibit:

"The guy who got a job by moving TO Windsor."

I think my interview went well. Their questions about public interaction had me referring back to my Home Despot days; hopefully that won't work against me. They liked my sense of humour. And surprise, surprise: one of my interviewers and I have a common relative. Six degrees of separation don't exist in Windsor; it's rare to have more than two.

The trip home was entertaining, to say the least. It started when I was standing outside my building waiting for my cab. I heard jet engines overhead and looked up to see a quartet of A-10 Warthogs doing a flyover for the Detroit Tigers' opening day. Certainly came as a surprise. My first thought was "What are they doing in Canadian airspace?" It wasn't until I was in the cab and saw the Goodyear blimp over downtown that I remembered what day it was. The Blue Jays were in Cleveland for the Indians' opening day--and beat the record for longest opening day game by innings with a sixteen-inning win. It was exhausting just to watch them.

Things on the train were equally entertaining, at least for the first stretch of the journey. Two college girls were in the row in front of me on the other side of the aisle. Soon after departure they started talking about their part-time jobs--at the strip club downtown. One of them mentioned making a thousand dollars from a single overnight shift, prompting me to wonder whether I was in the right business.

Of course, beauty does not necessary equal brains. Their conversation about vacationing in Florida is evidence of this:

Blonde stripper: What's the party city in Florida?

Redhead stripper: Miami's one.

BS*: Miami isn't in Florida.
*How appropriate an acronym!

RS: Yes it is.

BS: No it isn't. Isn't it a state? Miami State?

RS: I'm pretty sure it's a city. I'll ask others. (She looks around and makes eye contact with me.)

Me: It's a city in Florida.

The blonde was truly shocked that Miami was in Florida. And they're attending University of Windsor when not occupying their time as professional exhibitionists. Yeah.