Dancing Fool

 

One of the great things about being a truly terrible dancer is that I am perfectly capable of stepping on my own feet. No, I am not exaggerating.

Several years ago, I was challenged/cajoled into joining a dance class. My friend was taking a burlesquercise class at, well, Burlesquercise (that’s awkward). I forget exactly how it came about, but the students in her class figured that it would be fun to get their men involved in our own class. So, I girded my loins and stepped as far out of my comfort zone as I’ve ever stepped. I felt more at ease getting vasectomized than I do dancing.

My sense of rhythm starts and ends with me being able to tap my feet and wiggle my bum. This high-end skill only surfaces when the music is blues based. Maybe a waltz or two because their rhythms are similar. Beyond that I have all the grace, coordination, and rhythm of something completely devoid of grace, coordination, and rhythm.

The class was eight weeks of learning a Salsa. Done properly, Salsa is lovely to watch. Done by me, not so much. Salsa requires full-body coordination of a type that I am incapable of. A drunk octopus with its testicles, er tentacles, braided in pairs would likely be a better dancer than I am. I am the “this is your brain on drugs” of Salsa dancing.

After eight weeks of lessons, we were deemed ready, whether we really were or not, to perform in public, in front of sighted people, at a gala. I think “gala” is Latin for “humiliation”. All the classes, not just the guys, performed at the gala. It was an evening of sexy, sensuous, feathered, lacy fun. We guys did not have any feathers and lace. As for sexy and sensuous, that’s not for me to decide.

Our performance was enthusiastic and happy, and the audience really appreciated it. We weren’t great, but we showed up, did our best, and smiled the whole way through. My smile may or may not have been related to the bottle of Scotch I had waiting in the dressing room (one of the Tamdhu batch releases, if you’re wondering).

I’m glad that I went through the experience. I’m still a terrible dancer, but I learned that I am way more comfortable getting out of my comfort zone in a professional context than in a personal one. I also learned that if you try, have fun, and throw your whole self into something, it’s appreciated. And I’m comfortable with being uncomfortable.

No, I’m not doing it again.

What about you? Are you cool with getting out of your comfort zone?

Be great today, be better tomorrow!

Cheers!

Connect with me on Bluesky: @chriswalker1964.bsky.social

Apologies to Frank Zappa for the title.

Keep It Simple

Picture by me, pizza by Gus's Pizza

I was probably baked at the time (Relax! It was long ago.), but one of the best pizzas I’ve ever had (I have had much pizza) was from Casa Mare in Pierrefonds, QC. Whether in the restaurant or at home, holy crap, they made good pizza. It was simple: crust, sauce, cheese, pepperoni. That’s it. No arugula, artichoke, whale tongue bullshit. Just a simple pepperoni pizza. If a pizza place can’t do a really good pepperoni pizza, don’t bother with it. The pictured pizza is a really good pepperoni pizza from Gus's Pizza (link under the pic) in Calgary, AB. Yum yum would eat it again.

Simple is good. Beer, blues, and burgers; their brilliance is in their simplicity. Just a few ingredients, expertly crafted; joy! Yes, you can add embellishments, but why? I enjoy fancier, more complicated stuff sometimes, but I always return to the simple things.

Prompted (not the GenAI kind) by some friends, a side quest into …

"Poutine" by shankar s. is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Poutine! It’s simple, and it’s the most comforty of comfort foods, made with three layered (layering is key) ingredients:

• The bottom layer is deep-fried French fries made from real potatoes. Not baked, not air fried (who hurt you?) not yam or sweet potato fries (nasty horrible things better suited for livestock than humans). Real Russet potatoes, deep-fried in a deep fat fryer. They need to be fresh and hot enough to aid in the melting of layer 2.
• The middle layer is plenty of squeaky cheese curds. If you even think about using any other type of cheese you don’t deserve Poutine. In fact, you don’t even deserve to read the rest of this post. Begone, I say. Begone!
• Last is the gravy. Piping hot brown gravy. So hot that if spilled on you it would remove 2 or 3 layers of epidermis. The heat turns the squeaky curds into melty, gooey goodness.

Just like you should drink your whisky however you want, you can have your Poutine however you want. Wanna chuck some deconstructed bacon cheeseburger stuff on it? Go right ahead. Shredded country ribs? Yup! One of my favourite un-Poutines was a Donair Poutine from Simply Donairs in St. Albert, AB. If memory serves, they used shredded cheese which makes it un-Poutine, or Poutine adjacent. Still delicious, though.

There was a time when I would have brought the wrath of Pierre (patron saint of Poutine[1]) upon your house if you’d referred to something that contained anything other than the Curdy Trinity[2] of Poutine, Poutine. Now? Whatevs. I’ve got a whole bunch of other stuff to focus on.

Wanna refer to your creation as “bacon-cheeseburger Poutine”? Go ahead. (That sounds pretty tasty, not gonna lie.) Just be aware, though, that there are militant Poutine Snobs amongst us (mostly in Quebec) that might get their knickers in a twist over Poutine naming conventions. Just tell ‘em to fuck off, but make sure your mouth is empty because talking with your mouth full is rude and poor manners.

If your creation contains cheese in any form other than The Curd, do not call it Poutine. This is not debatable. There is no wiggle room. This is sacred. Do not invite the wrath of Pierre, patron saint of Poutine.

Uh oh, the Poutine detour was longer than expected. Back to our regularly scheduled stuff …

Yeah, I was talking about keeping things simple (unlike this post). It’s not just about food, drinks, and music, it’s about embracing simplicity in as many areas of your life as you can; the simple pleasures, if you will. We’ve got lots to deal with at the moment. Between this, that, and the other thing, life’s a bit complicated, angsty, and stressful.

Do yourself a favour and enjoy something simple. Be in the moment and be mindful. Some of my favourite ways to get simple are reading a book, listening to music, chatting with friends, meditating over a good cigar & beverage, or just sitting & letting my mind wander where it will.

I said earlier that the blues are simple; they are. Blues is based on a 3 chord (I-IV-V uh, some music theory required) progression and, according to Muddy Waters, “the blues had a baby and they named the baby rock and roll.” In case you’re wondering, because why wouldn’t you, I prefer a major key to a minor key (happy vs sad).

Despite being simple, blues are not easy to play well. I mean really, really well. One of my favourite players is David Gogo. He’s a brilliant player from Nanaimo, BC. If you like blues and blues-based music, you really ought to check him out.

How do you get simple?

Be great today, be better tomorrow!

Cheers!

Connect with me on Bluesky: @chriswalker1964.bsky.social

---

[1] I made that up.

[2] I made that up too.

It's a trip, man!

 

Image info: "1910 world map" by surrealpenguin is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/?ref=openverse.

I’ve been extremely fortunate to have experienced as much travel in my life as I have. By the time I turned eleven, I’d been to more countries than most people get to visit in a lifetime. I’m grateful for those experiences, and I realize how privileged I am.

I’ve also had the good fortune to do a fair bit of travelling as an adult, for work and for personal reasons. Of the countries I’ve been to as an adult, I had visited all but four (England, Germany, Norway, China) as a child. I’ve spent at least one night in every Canadian province, but have yet to visit the Territories, something that I hope to rectify because, hey, who doesn’t want to be chased through a northern hamlet by a polar bear!

Travel is educational (duh) and formative. Much of who and how I am today is because of travel. Meeting people from other cultures, on their home turf, has had a positive impact on how I interact with people who are “different”, regardless of context. Be curious and empathetic rather than judgemental and suspicious; you’ll be better off. As long as people aren’t stupid or assholes, I’m pretty accepting of them. The stupid ones make my brain hurt and assholes simply aren’t acceptable under any circumstances.

Travel issues, being lost in Beijing, and almost getting arrested in Brussels (it was because of Markko from Iceland – I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it) will test you. If you travel enough, shit’s gonna happen. Just be a grown up and deal with it. At worst you’ll arrive a little late and be exhausted (not the end of the world); if you’re lucky and have a positive mindset, you’ll end up with a great story to tell. A “just go with it” attitude is pretty handy even when not travelling, by the way. Just ask yourself if it’s an inconvenience or a disaster.

I understand how unbelievably fortunate I’ve been, and that not everyone has the opportunity or resources to travel. But for those of you that can swing it but haven’t, what’s stopping you? Seriously, getting out of your comfort zone and doing something different is a thrill. I cannot recommend it enough.

One of my favourite things to do when I’m in a new city is to just walk. If I’ve got a free Saturday or Sunday, I’ll just walk the city for a few hours, stopping for something to eat & drink when I need to, chatting with people when the opportunity is there. It’s such a great way to spend time.

Chris’s list of travel don’ts:

1. Don’t refer to a Belgian as French or Dutch.
2. Don’t refer to a Swiss as German.
3. Don’t refer to an Irish person as English (in my defence, Morris started it by calling me American).
4. Don’t refer to a Canadian as American.
5. Don’t, under any circumstances, say “this isn’t how it is at home.” You’re not at home, that’s the whole fucking point!
6. Don’t try to swim across the Elbe River while naked and drunk.
7. Don’t think you can take that Thai kickboxer in Bangkok (wasn’t me but was funny as hell to watch).

Bad things about travel:

1. Jet lag
2. Being away from your family
3. People in airports that don’t know what they’re doing

Have you had the opportunity to travel? How has it affected you?

Be great today, be better tomorrow!

Cheers!