I always imagine “Newman” being spelled “Neuman”.  I guess that ‘s because, to me, Victor seems German.

I continue to watch Y&R.  Some subplots are certainly better than others.  I want Phyllis back.

Right now, Sharon is trying to get back with Nick.  Although she’s been underhanded in her approach, I’m sympathetic with Sharon.

I really do believe in “true love” – where one person will do anything to be with the other.  Therefore, Sharon’s crime of passion – I understand it.  She and Nick were together for a long time once before; Sharon believes their love should last forever.

Nicholas himself can be quite likable, but quite the opposite as well.  Overall, I dislike him more than I like him, though he can have some very cool moments.

My own life is not so exciting as Y&R, though it does have its own dramas – our never-ending reno of the downstairs, for one.  The kids had friends over this weekend – always a yellow diamond.

On the yard front, I did some much-needed weeding on Friday, but unfortunately not where my lawn needed it the most.  I was talking to someone:)  Hopefully, I’ll be able to weed the backyard soon.  Although we live in a rainforest, and are even heading into the rainy season, there is no rain forecast in the coming week.

We had a very light frost the other night.

Well, here’s my drawing of Nicholas.  Believe it or not, I wasn’t trying to draw Nicholas; it just became him on its own.  That phenomenon has happened to me three times.  In each case, the person the drawing became – not the person I was trying for – was unmistakable. I hope you agree.

Take care, and I hope to talk to you soon.

NBC’s The Blacklist is a gem.

The other day I asked someone if they’d watched The Blacklist.  “No,” they replied:  “I don’t watch much TV.”

Believe it or not, I don’t think that I do, either.  However, I have shows I like.  Elementary, for instance, returned a couple of weeks ago to my delight.  Now I also like The Blacklist, having seen its first two episodes.

The Blacklist begins with a famous wanted man’s walking into FBI headquarters and surrendering.  The wanted man – whose name is Reddington – immediately starts giving his conditions of cooperation.  His ability to tell the FBI facts they want to know confirms his value to them.  Therefore, they decide they must cooperate.  Each agent shows his or her unique brand of distaste for Reddington.  Reddington loves being hated by them – and gives it right back with a smile.

Reddington’s motive for surrendering to the FBI is dubious, but seems to be control.  “The FBI works for me now,” he casually states in the second episode.  He suggests that he, himself, wants to take down high-value criminals for his own reasons.

Here’s James Spader as Reddington.

As Autumn descends, it’s hopefully time to start posting more.

For those of you who reach me through my WordPress blog, you may not know that my website has many earlier posts.  You can find them from my homepage here.

If and when you do visit those earlier posts, you’ll learn that one of my perennial themes is yard work: lawn care, composting, pruning…you name it. The weather is another favourite topic; anyone who gardens is conscious of it.

Well, the weather has turned here. Today is rainy and about 10 degrees, with a forecast of 12. We haven’t hit zero yet at night, but we did get down to 2 degrees the night before last. The leaves haven’t let go yet, but some have started changing color.

The weeds have been prolific. I haven’t had much time to fight back, but I’ve attacked them three separate times since June. I always weed by hand. There is much more to be done, but I’ve got them under control in a couple of key areas.

I didn’t water my lawn over the summer, which came late but hot and dry. The lawn went mainly brown, but stood up pretty well; it’s gone green again with the return of the rain. I’m pleased.

I’ll be talking more about my summer and fall chores in future posts. Now, let’s discuss today’s subject: Steve Buscemi.

I first noticed Steve Buscemi in Tarantino’s movies. However, I’ve been in a movie blackout since I had my first child in ’02. My wife recently showed me Boardwalk Empire: as Nucky,Buscemi is fantastic. I can’t watch that show, though; it’s too heartbreaking for me.

Here’s my rendition of Steve.

IMDb was a source for this article.

Gilderoy Lockhart is a key figure from the early Harry Potter era.

I’ve read the Harry Potter series to my children twice.  We are working on a third time; presently we are about a third through Order of the Phoenix.

Before I got hold of Harry, my wife read the entire series to the children.  I’d overhear bits when I came up from work.  Parts I heard from the last three books drew me in. From that point of view, I was a late comer to the earlier books.

Arriving at the series the way I did, I definitely think there are two eras of Harry Potter.  In the first three books – Philosopher’s Stone, Chamber of Secrets, and Prisoner of Azkaban – the kids are young.  The stories are more tender because the kids are vulnerable due to their youth.

Later in the series, the books focus on how damage during childhood affects peoples’ later lives.  That psychological focus unifies the last three books – Order of the Phoenix, Half Blood Prince, and Deathly Hallows.

Gilderoy Lockhart, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from Chamber of Secrets, is a popular buffoon.  Although he turns out to be unethical, he’s not evil.  His playfulness and vanity stand out uniquely among the Potter characters.  In many ways, Chamber of Secrets is his story as much as anyone’s.

Lockhart’s benign flaws fit in easily with the younger, more innocent period of the Potter books.  Later on, his dominating early presence is all but forgotten.  Yet, he remains a compelling figure, partly because of his unique ability to captivate other characters who endure through all seven books.

Here’s Gilderoy Lockhart, smiling as normal.

PS:  I regret that I’ve not posted in over two months.  The summer was good, but very busy.  I have much to share, and will try to do so in more frequent posts starting soon. Until then, take care.  I hope all is well with you:)

My first-born son is eleven now.

Paul, when you were born I knew nothing about kids.  I failed you often, starting with the first time I held you:  I dropped your head (sorry about that).  The summer you were born was hot, rather like this one.  As the days and weeks spun, I learned to change your diapers and give you baths and feed you bottles.  I sure wasn’t perfect – or even very good at it – but you were stuck with me a lot of the time while your mother recovered from bearing you.

As you became more durable, I took you out for walks in the pram.  By around Hallowe’en, you wouldn’t fall asleep in your crib; I had to walk you to sleep in the dark, quiet streets around our house.

Month after month, our walks lengthened; the summer you turned one, we’d go out for a three-hour walk in the morning, then another after lunch, then of course one at night to put you to sleep.  With you, I explored parts of town I never would have visited on my own.  I remember crossing a park one day when some kids called out, “He’s the guy who jogs with the kid in the stroller.”  They were right, of course; they’d seen us from the swings.  By the way:  we didn’t have a jogging stroller; it was just a regular one.

At the play-gym, I remember watching you run across the floor just for the joy of it.  Like everything with kids, some days didn’t go so well as we hoped.  I remember one morning, sitting in our Olds with you and (by then) your younger brother, James:  you were both in your car seats, both crying.  A revelation came to me:  “Today, the best you can hope for is a bad day.  Just try to keep it from getting worse.”  We made it, the three of us; believe it or not, the day actually did improve.

You turned four, then went to pre-school; you turned five, then went to school.  When you were bullied, I told you to fight back, and even trained you how you might do so.  After two years of being walked on, you fought back and won.  Years later, you’re confident in your ability to defend yourself and your brother James.  You’re also friends with the kid who bullied you so long ago.

Whether it was training you to defend yourself, or teaching you to read, I’ve always been on your side.  Notwithstanding, I’ve been the worst bully in your life.  Forcing you to practice the piano, forcing you to learn to read before you went to school, forcing you to eat your fruits and veggies…so much of your childhood you spent being pushed around by me. I swear I never liked doing it, but felt I had no choice.  I can easily understand why you might not agree.

Nowadays, I rarely have to tell you to do anything.  After school, you hurry up to your room to tackle your homework.  You always get good report cards.  You eat your meals without my leaning on you.  I guess you’re growing up.

Physically, you’re the strong buck I never was.  At age eleven, your shoulders are broader than mine were at age fifteen.  Your fearlessness – I think it’s reminiscent of another Paul, after whom you’re named.

Nowadays, I try to influence you as little as possible.  The world has changed so much since you were born, I am not qualified to give you advice about it.  I can still help you with your math – on the rare occasions you need it – and remind you to practice the piano. Privately, I can anticipate a much brighter future for you than I faced at age eleven.  That’s what I wanted for that perfect baby I carried into the waiting room eleven years ago, to so many hushed voices and wide eyes….

From that day on, I’ve been amazed someone as wonderful as you could be my son.

Happy birthday, Paul

-Love, Dad.

Elementary is one of the best shows going, in my opinion.

Sherlock Holmes has been done so many times – with many being very good – that I thought trying it again was ill-advised.  I’m delighted that the talented people at CBS proved me wrong.

Most TV shows I don’t like in the first place.  I didn’t plan to give Elementary a try. However, my wife started watching the show, so I couldn’t help but overhear it.

When Elementary started to get interesting, I’d search for reasons not to like it.  Why? As I’ve earlier mentioned, I get attached to the characters in shows I like.  When I find myself starting to like a show (which rarely happens), I try to remain aloof.  The last thing I need is someone else to worry about.

The character in Elementary that compelled me to give it a chance wasn’t Watson or Sherlock; rather, it was Captain Tobias (played by Aidan Quinn).  His cool, “old-school” persona, I reasoned, would give ballast to a very new way of seeing Holmes and Watson. That’s why I thought the show deserved a chance.

Like so many good shows, it’s gotten better as it’s progressed.  The Watson-Sherlock dynamic has matured, with Doctor Watson becoming Detective Watson.

Doctor Watson – played by the beautiful, but very understated Lucy Liu – starts out skeptical of Holmes.  After all, she is the Doctor assigned to oversee his recovery from addiction.  Gradually Holmes wins Watson over to his way of thinking.  He has her questioning the world as she knew it before.  Eventually she rejects her old world to join him.  However, she alone is seen as being sane; Holmes, though admittedly brilliant, is agreed by all their colleagues to have a loose grasp on reality.  Therefore, Watson and Holmes have a “Scully and Mulder” dimension.

My advice?  If you haven’t seen Elementary yet, watch it – and love it.  Here’s Dr. Watson.

Sources: Wikipedia and IMDb.

I discovered Tommy Hilfiger after most people – but I remain a fan.

In my business, I work with many teens.  In ’96, the affluent ones wore Calvin Klein.  By ’97 or ’98, though, many wore Tommy.  His red, white and blue logo was small, yet prominent, on many items.

One theme of this blog is how I’m habitually a latecomer to many scenes.  I didn’t actually own any Tommy until sometime in the mid 00s – long after my students had mostly switched to other brands.  I’m sure I remember buying my Tommy pants off a wide table at Costco.  I have some of his socks as well.

In my world, Tommy was the last “solo” designer I saw people wear.  For years now, the teens have worn companies’ labels, but not peoples’ names.  It’s another example of how solo efforts are getting rare nowadays.

Hilfiger had a reality show – centered on designing clothes, of course – in 2005 called The Cut.  It was similar in format to Trump’s Apprentice – which I like very much.  However, Hilfiger’s might have been even better.  As I recall, Tommy put in less air time each episode than Donald does.  Tommy, like Donald, eliminated a contestant each week. Tommy’s cut line was “You’re out of style:  Take the catwalk.”  He had a grittier style than Donald, and talked less.  The Cut was, I think, a summer show.  I always hoped it would return.  To my knowledge, it never did – I’ve always wondered why not.

Tommy, you had your part in defining the late 90s for me.  I still see your clothes.  Will we be seeing you front and centre again?

Wikipedia was a source for this article.

I was in a boxing club for about 6 years.  While I was, I followed professional boxing. Teddy Atlas is a prominent commentator and trainer.

Hello.  Much has been happening lately.  Let me begin with what isn’t:  the weather isn’t changing.  We’ve been in summer temperatures (daily highs over 21°C) for over a week. Everyone is living like it’s summer.  Some kids are finding it pretty hard to concentrate at school.

I’ve weeded the lawn three times in as many weeks.  The last time there weren’t many left; the first two I took out hundreds. However, dandelions and similar weeds like the rain. They don’t need it as much as grass does, but they really slow down after a week without it.

My kids will rejoin judo in the fall, but for the summer they’re in swimming.  I see them less now, because swimming is more frequent.  However, they seem to be having a great time.

To today’s portrait:  Teddy Atlas.  Back in the late 90s and early 00s, I was in a boxing club. I watched professional boxing then. My favourite commentator was Teddy, who often worked alongside Joe Tessitore.

Teddy was usually more entertaining than the fight itself.  His charming New York inflection, his boxing gems, and his unquestionable love of the sport were all infectious. Now and then, he knew one of the fighters personally. When he liked them, he might give them tough questions:

“How come you’re so heavy?”

“Why didn’t you end it sooner?”

I think he is harder on fighters he likes.  That’s an old-world trait; I’m the same:)

Teddy Atlas helped me realize New York isn’t just a place; it’s also an ethnicity.  So many ethnicities have squared off in the street and rings of New York – as often for no money at all – that for many people, the New York accent is part of the sport.

Here’s Teddy Atlas.  If you’re a fighter, don’t let him catch you going back for seconds at dinner:)

Wikipedia was a source for this article.

My kids participated in a judo tournament in Mill Bay last weekend.

The more judo tournaments I attend, the more I like.  We’ve been to a couple in Nanaimo, we’ve hosted two at our club, and we even went to one in Victoria last year.

The Mill Bay tournament, though, seemed a different premise right from the start.  As a kid I hung around Mill Bay, though it was very small then.  I wondered, therefore, where the judo club might be?  We were told there would be only one mat.  We were also given the impression that everyone really liked going to the Mill Bay Tournament.

Two hours south of home, we pulled off the busy highway onto a country lane less than a kilometre long.  We parked on the side, then walked back to a building reminiscent of a small barn.  We approached the open door that led in from the south end.

Reaching the stairs, I was immediately impressed.  Looking up from a clipboard, a kid in his late teens asked us who we were and from what club.  We answered, then entered.  A man behind a desk asked us again who we were and from what club.  “Just double checking,” he smiled.

We noticed that our kids’ matches had already been planned and posted on the bulletin board.

When you come from out of town to attend a tournament, reassurance that you are in the right place – and that you are expected – is key.  Now, we could find seats and relax.

The surprises didn’t stop coming, however.  We walked up a few steps into a club unlike any I’d seen.  The place was made entirely of wood.  Although it had only one mat, it was spacious and comfortable.  The spectators sat in dim light so familiar if you’ve been in a barn in daytime.

The matches got underway.  During breaks in the action, you could look out the far window at a flowering maple tree.

My kids did alright:  one silver and one bronze.  This time, my younger got the silver.  My older son fought four times – the most he’s ever done in a tournament.  He lost two split decisions.  He took them hard, but you’ve got to learn to lose. Of course, it’s easy for me to be philosophical: I wasn’t competing.

Overall, even my older son could tell he’d done pretty well.  He’d earned his bronze medal and some valuable experience against more seasoned opponents.

The trip itself showcased some differences between the North Island (where I live now) and the South Island (where I lived from the mid-80s until the mid-90s).  The Mill Bay judo club – all-wood, set beside a rich pasture of lush grass just off a major highway – echoes qualities typical of the South Island.  The relaxed, comfortable wealth, set right beside bustle – it’s what I remember.  Though it has its spots, the North Island’s more rugged.

Here’s a sensei from that club.  He’s drawn from memory, like all my drawings from judo tournaments.  Thanks, Mill Bay, for putting on a great tourney and having us all come.