This week in Xining: Number 1, Number 2 or Number Barf?

- You know that you're in a cold and stinky bathroom when, once your pee hits the urinal, the steam rising up gives off a smell that provides temporary relief from the rankness of the rest of the room.

- With the temperatures on the rise, it was nice to go outside the other day and pretend that Spring is coming, and then, when I peaked my head out the window the following day, it was nice that I pulled it back inside just before it had a chance to freeze off and drop 10 floors down onto someone's Volkswagen.

- If anyone remembers the story about the Grass Police, I ran into him again.  If you forget the story, here's the applicable part:

Exhibit B
Today we had a little picnic in the grass behind our building. We had about 8 adults and 6 kids there. We had blankets spread on the grass and were trying to enjoy ourselves before a storm rolled in overhead. 

A few local people, as they usually do, stopped to admire the kids and guess what kinds of strange foreign foods we were eating.  After a while, one of the neighbors came up to us. He might have been in his 50's and he was out walking his dog. He went out of his way to tell us how rude we were being for having a picnic. That we were making a mess and that it was very rude. That we should not be on the grass wasn't really the point, as he said that it is fine that the kids play on the grass but that to have food on the grass is very rude and inconsiderate to the rest of the people who used the yard.

Time out. 

First of all, there is not a lot of grass in this country. When someone plants grass they usually put up a cute little sign which translates into "We are tiny blades of grass, please don't hurt us". What they really mean is "stay the %@#* off the grass!". So, as it goes, there are little patches of grass in a lot of areas in this city that just sit there. The only thing you will ever see on a patch of grass are dozens of piles of dog crap. I joke that the grass is only for looking at and for dogs to crap on. So, when we went to picnic, and knew that there were not any signs prohibiting going on the grass, that the kids could play on the grass, that dogs could use it as a bathroom, we figured in our ignorance that it would be okay to enjoy what little piece of grass we could find that had yet to be defiled. 

Anyways, it got a little weird. The guy asked where Dustin was from. He said America. The man asked if we would do something like this in America. He actually asked if we would have a picnic in America. Dustin said "of course" and the man laughed in disbelief. "Bu Ke Neng!" he laughed. "There is no way!". 

Anyways, we packed up and got out of there. We were basically done eating anyways and it was starting to get colder out.

The other day, I saw Mr. Grass Police walking his dog.  While a ways off, I saw his dog crap on the sidewalk.  Then, when I passed them, the dog crapped all over the edge of the road one more time.  He might have been sick.

The 2 prominent things to see on the road these days are piles of dog poop and piles of human barf.

These days, the city is buzzing with parties.  I mean, the local store is sold out of the good yogurt, so you know people are having a good time.  A lot of people find themselves over eating and over drinking.  I guess the taxis have been busy pulling over and the people have been busy tossing their over eats onto the street.  At least it's cold enough that the piles are left as just frozen splotches of color.  Kind of artistic, in a way.

Anyways, I think that Mr. Grass Police needs a lesson on training his dog not to poop all over the community.  It's at least comparable to eating a chicken wing on grass, right?  No matter the culture?  Maybe even a little grosser?  I've done everything to hold my tongue, and besides, there are a million other perpetrators.  If he calls me out for any more grass violations in the future, at least I have some ammo.

Falling Apart

The week that was was a week of falling apart...

#1

First I must talk about the Xining Art Society meeting. It is a meeting of people who like to share in the enjoyment of creating, critiquing, and appreciating all kinds of art. The rules of the Art Society:

1. You do not talk about Art Society.
2. You do not talk about Art Society!

Just kidding... talk away!

3. You can come and check it out without bringing any of your own art.
4. After that, if you want to attend, you must bring your own art.

This month, Barbara and I were the hosts. 5 women showed up, and after trying in vain to convince Joel to get his lazy self over to help even out the male/female ratio, I realized that I was on my own.

It was a good time, though. There were 5 pieces. 3 paintings, one birdcage display, and a song. We spent a good while talking about each piece and it seemed as though we all learned a little more about art and a little more about the artists themselves.

The proof the the good times is as follows:

To the right is the first piece, Amy G's birdcage/painting/notebook layout. Is it a mind? A brain? The universe? Another world above the stars?







On the right, Barbara takes a long look at Heather's tree painting. The orange sky had us all wondering if the tree was breaking free from the blackness, or settling in.








Above is everyone taking a good, long look at Heather's piece after moving it to a different wall.



To the left is Sarah's piece. The "tape cassette with sneakers" is quite an interesting work. This was Sarah's first time at the meeting and we're all very amazed by what she brought to the table.






And finally, the painting from the short film that Carrianne made. Quite an amazing painting for a first time oil painter. Check out the film on Facebook.







To understand the theme of "falling apart" you kind of needed to be there. So, be there next time! I won't be there, but you should. In all, we've had 7 or 8 meetings and this one was definitely in the top 2.


#2 of falling apart...

Is it too much for a guy to ask that his hockey team make the playoffs so that he can watch a few games when he gets home? I didn't think so.

The Oilers continue to climb the monumental ladder into mediocrity. After today's loss to the Wild, the Oilers sit 2 points out of the playoffs. With all of the other teams reaching for a playoff spot literally playing their best hockey of the season, one has to wonder; what happened to the Oilers?

Even with a little bit more 'bite' in their game over the past 2 weeks, we could be talking about them challenging Vancouver and Calgary for the division. Yet, here we are. Same old same old.

There are a lot of fingers to point in this situation and a lot of faces to point them at. But the main thing is that when a team plays on home ice they should be good. The Oilers are not. They are bad.

Flash Back...

Last year I bought a half price ticket to an Oilers-Sharks game for 90 dollars. I went by myself because they only had single seats available and I don't know anyone else who's stupid enough to buy anything for 90 dollars at half price to go with me.

The weather was particularly bitter that day, my friends. I beleive it was February. I parked at the Clairview LRT and boarded the train hoping that my car would start when I returned. At the game, the Oilers produced 13 shots on goal and lost 4 to 0. I boarded the train back to clairview and, thankfully, my car started.

As I waited for my cold car to warm up I couldn't help but think about something:

"What was Ethan Moreau doing at that moment?"

He was probably eating his post-game meal from a catering company, or soaking in a hot bath. Or maybe he was spending some of his salary on a new house or small country.

And there I sat, 90 dollars poorer and feeling like I just got ripped off by some sort of scam.

Fast forward to a year later...

and the Oilers continue to refuse to reward their fans. They have 20 shiny wins on the road and only 16 at home. Maybe they need to hurry up on building that new arena. This current team is tainting all of the great memories people have of that building before it was called Rexall Place. If Wayne Gretzky were dead he'd probably roll over in his grave.




#3 in falling apart...




We've had a leak in the upstairs bathroom for a few months now. I tried to get the maintenance guys to fix it but they failed at that. So I ripped the tub out with my hands and saw that it was indeed leaking. After about a month of no leaks the leaks returned. I was convinced that the new problem was in the heating pipes that run under the floor. Sure enough, after smuggling the only maintenance guy I like up to our apartment, and after about 3 hours of digging in the floor, we found the leak! He is repairing it as I type. Lets hope it works!

UPDATE: It appears as though the leak is fixed!






Thus, the week of falling apart.