Have you ever had those types of days where you just go and relive childhood memories? Playing vintage games, watching old movies and just wanting to play with that Lego you have packed away? Well I have had those types of cravings since I have gotten home, so what did I do? I did what any respectable man should do, I fed those cravings until they were stuffed and were screaming uncle. Let me tell you a bit about it...
When me and my brother were little we got a Sega Genesis. Now with this system we got many games like NHL '97, Sonic the Hedgehog and many others. however, none were played as much as Road Rash 3. This game was wonderful, well made and was addicting beyond all belief. You played a motorcycle biker and you raced fourteen others in a race that had no rules. However, they had weapons (which you could steal) and police roamed the roads in cars, helicopters and on motor bikes. Your bike could blow up if you damaged it too much or you could get arrested and fined. On top of this you had to dodge road signs, animals (stupid cows!) and road traffic.
Now if you understand the surrounding events you'll realize the reasons why we got so mad and stressed over this little silly game. We were young, the controllers were cordless and prone to lose the signal, the TV was small and our idea of the game was shallow. However, being the adventurous kids that we were, myself, Derek and Dustin (just because he was over so much) came up with many different ways to compacts our overwhelming level of suck. And I mean suck. We sucked more than a good vacuum cleaner, and thats pretty bad. Anyways, Dustin came up with a miraculous idea to solve our lack of driving skill: A magic eraser. This eraser would be used to stroke the back tire of my bike before a race to give me added grip and to help me gain luck that I would otherwise lack.
Now this was also a big team event. We all took turns playing the game, especially if you crashed or got busted early. However, if you were lucky enough to finish a race in first place or do extraordinarily well during a race then you could be rewarded with another go for the next race. As the levels went on they got faster, longer and harder. As kids we never got past the 3rd level, and just getting there was a full day. You see, the Sega had no memory card to save the games, so we had to keep going for hours on end.
Now when I came home last Sunday I planned to relax and play some XBOX. However, when I saw my brother playing Road Rash yet again I was flooded with painful memories of failure and anger at the cops and cows that were the cause of these failures. I decided to team up with my brother and finally put an end to the madness that this game brought us. We started this game up on Saturday and this would not come to a close until Sunday evening.
I started the game while Derek was at a practice in Mont Nebo, and I quickly finished off the first level. However, I forgot to save lots of money and the second level was too close for comfort. On levels three and four the two of us saved money left right and center before buying it: yes, we bought the $40 000 bike. This behemoth was incredibly fast and had tons of NOS to use when you were in dire need. We reached level five, the level that was supposedly the last level on the game. We raced and lost many times as the races were three times as long as they were on level one. Police swarmed the roads with roadblocks and your opponents would punch, kick, hit, or mace you until you fell off your bike. Not very nice so we retaliated with our own little club, but the damage that did was minimal. Then lady luck smiled on us and we won two races back to back, surely the next three races would follow quickly. Not so.
As we went back to our losing ways we desperately searched for a way to keep money instead of losing it. We tried driving nice (the helicopters ran us off our bikes) and we tried being nasty (we got beaten up). We managed to qualify in Italy and then there were only two places left: The United Kingdom and Kenya. Derek took over and with seat pouring off his brow (along with mine) he raced like his life depended on it. Sixteen hours of sweat and tears had been poured into this game and he wasn't going down without a fight. We twisted and turned from the evil heathens driving the other bikes but as he rounded a corner something hit him and destroyed his bike! Derek screamed and kicked out, and his foot made contact with the controllers cord, which pulled on the game system and threw it down. The game had stopped, we had failed to pass level five! Oh the wailing in the house was great and mournful! Never before had we been so far, and we may never have time for such craziness again! However, we both must keep a stiff upper lip and press onward, so onward I go to watch a hockey game.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
School Update
Well, an eventual semester has past, as has a two week module in January. As of right now I am getting mentally prepared to go on FMP, which is Freshman Ministry Practicum. This is the first of its kind in Nipawin, and it is a downsized version of the OMP course here. We will have preparation on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday before leaving for our destinations in the afternoon on Wednesday. I am heading to Timber Bay Bible Center for a week with seven others, and this is including a supervisor/person-who-makes-sure-we-don't-kill-each-other type of person. The group consists of myself, Donna, Angela, Nicole, Jon Z. and Josh. Oh, and we have Amy (that's Donna's sister) as our responsible person.
Other groups are travelling to Big River, Kinistin and Regina Urban Center. Each group has different things that they will be doing, so each will present it's unique challenges. It'll be a great learning experience at the least, and while I'm in Timber Bay I'll see my sister Klara. We will be getting back exactly a week after we leave, so January 30th I believe. Any prayers will be appreciated.
Other groups are travelling to Big River, Kinistin and Regina Urban Center. Each group has different things that they will be doing, so each will present it's unique challenges. It'll be a great learning experience at the least, and while I'm in Timber Bay I'll see my sister Klara. We will be getting back exactly a week after we leave, so January 30th I believe. Any prayers will be appreciated.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Two Dollars
Well another hunting season has come and gone with me once again tagging out. I suppose that I had to because I only had one week off for hunting season and that isn't too much time.
Anyway, I got both my deer in a very, very dramatic half hour of hunting. Probably the most fun that I had for a long while, but it was also a touch and go operation. Let me elaborate...
Well it all started out on a beautiful morning. It was about zero degrees and there was a slight Easterly wind blowing. I began the walk to my tree stand about half a kilometer away, not a far distance.
Then all of a sudden, as I was walking down the desolate road, I saw headlights heading towards me. Of course it was my Uncle Ray, a hunting genius. He told me he saw thirty deer in a field further down our road, so I hopped in the back of his truck and he dropped me off at the field entrance. I got out and started stalking down the deer that were 600 yards or more away.
Now I crept behind the hills and used the terrain to my advantage as I tried to get close to the deer. Now I literally had to get right up to the deer because I was using a World War One vintage gun, a 1916 Lee Enfield (maybe you read about her earlier...). Now it has no scope because I couldn't bring myself to damage that beautiful gun, it has to remain a classic. Anyway, as I was saying...
I was creeping up on the animals (now there weren't thirty, more like ten) and then I saw them, three bucks fighting. An odd sight to see at the least, but I was determined to shoot one. I got down on my belly and began crawling towards them, inch by agonizing inch.
All of the sudden the wind picked up and the oil on my gun must have stank something horrible because they began to run off in a hurry when I was still 200 yards off. My heart sank with every step away they took.
Then hope sprung anew, a fawn was still left behind. I clenched my teeth and began the stalk again, determination flowing through my veins.
Then the fawn jerked its head up and stared at me, tail raising slowly. I fumbled for my grunt call and sounded it a few times, hoping to settle the fawn down. Much to my luck it began walking slowly but surely towards me, a wonderful set-up.
As I stared at the deer through my open sights a black blob caught my eye to my left. A moose! Now I had seen the moose the day earlier and it had a calf with her, but this time there was no baby. Thoughts of me sitting between her and her calf raced through my mind and I began to glance behind me, making sure a smaller moose wasn't behind me. The moose veered off and once again it was just me and the fawn.
The fawn now was facing me straight on at a further distance then what I wanted. I waited for him to turn broadside so I could pull the trigger and snuff it out. Then I felt the warm sensation of snot running down my nose and over my lips but I knew that I couldn't make any movement to wipe. I clamped my mouth shut and took aim for the deer as I said I silent prayer. The deer turned broadside and I squeezed off the shot.
SMACK-BOOOOM!!! The deer leapt like a bucking bronco and took off towards the Murder Bush (long story made short: A family was murdered there and it is very thick with willows and spooky). I flung my glove across my nose and worked the bolt all in one fluid motion, took aim and fired again... and again, and again, and again. To my utter disbelieve all of these shots missed except the first shot. As my heart hit my guts the deer stopped, looked around and then layed down as if it was going to sleep. My jaw dropped because ten more yards more and it would have been in a incredibly thick bush with no snow to try to track it. I decided to play it safe and try to circle the deer so if it did get up I could scare it away from the bush and open up on it again.
I eventually got more or less behind it and walked towards it with the caution of a police approaching a downed criminal. I quickly realized the deer was down for the count and put down my gun to tag the thing.
As I was preparing to tag the animals ear I heard a sound from behind once again. I immediately thought it was momma moose out for me again and I spun around will crouching into a fetal position. Again my jaw dropped as I saw it was a second fawn staring at my knife in my hand and the blood stained clothes I was wearing. I slowly picked up my gun again and lifted the barrel in the direction of the fawn, finger gently resting on the trigger. The deer spooked and ran behind a tree, poking its head out once in a while to eye me up. I whipped out my grunt call in an "Ah-ha!" moment and blew its majestic tune in the direction of the deer. It walked out again, standing perfectly broadside and just begging for me to pull the trigger. Never one to disappoint, I did what he asked.
THACK-BOOOOM!!! The bullet struck true and the deer stumbled as it took off running down the hill. I could clearly see that it had wounded the deer because its front leg wasn't moving with the other three. I racked another round into the chamber and hastily fired off a second shot and the deer dropped to the ground, flopping like a fish out of water. I turned back to finish tagging my first fawn and then scampered over to the second one to tag him too. I then ran off to the road and flagged down my uncle, hopping around like a toad on drugs. We raced over to the deer and grabbed them, brought them home and gutted them out. All in all an eventful morning. And since both of them had little stubby antlers (legally short enough to throw an antlerless tag on it). So I guess you could say I got payed for my work (two bucks, get it?......bad pun I know, but work with me here!).
Anyway, I got both my deer in a very, very dramatic half hour of hunting. Probably the most fun that I had for a long while, but it was also a touch and go operation. Let me elaborate...
Well it all started out on a beautiful morning. It was about zero degrees and there was a slight Easterly wind blowing. I began the walk to my tree stand about half a kilometer away, not a far distance.
Then all of a sudden, as I was walking down the desolate road, I saw headlights heading towards me. Of course it was my Uncle Ray, a hunting genius. He told me he saw thirty deer in a field further down our road, so I hopped in the back of his truck and he dropped me off at the field entrance. I got out and started stalking down the deer that were 600 yards or more away.
Now I crept behind the hills and used the terrain to my advantage as I tried to get close to the deer. Now I literally had to get right up to the deer because I was using a World War One vintage gun, a 1916 Lee Enfield (maybe you read about her earlier...). Now it has no scope because I couldn't bring myself to damage that beautiful gun, it has to remain a classic. Anyway, as I was saying...
I was creeping up on the animals (now there weren't thirty, more like ten) and then I saw them, three bucks fighting. An odd sight to see at the least, but I was determined to shoot one. I got down on my belly and began crawling towards them, inch by agonizing inch.
All of the sudden the wind picked up and the oil on my gun must have stank something horrible because they began to run off in a hurry when I was still 200 yards off. My heart sank with every step away they took.
Then hope sprung anew, a fawn was still left behind. I clenched my teeth and began the stalk again, determination flowing through my veins.
Then the fawn jerked its head up and stared at me, tail raising slowly. I fumbled for my grunt call and sounded it a few times, hoping to settle the fawn down. Much to my luck it began walking slowly but surely towards me, a wonderful set-up.
As I stared at the deer through my open sights a black blob caught my eye to my left. A moose! Now I had seen the moose the day earlier and it had a calf with her, but this time there was no baby. Thoughts of me sitting between her and her calf raced through my mind and I began to glance behind me, making sure a smaller moose wasn't behind me. The moose veered off and once again it was just me and the fawn.
The fawn now was facing me straight on at a further distance then what I wanted. I waited for him to turn broadside so I could pull the trigger and snuff it out. Then I felt the warm sensation of snot running down my nose and over my lips but I knew that I couldn't make any movement to wipe. I clamped my mouth shut and took aim for the deer as I said I silent prayer. The deer turned broadside and I squeezed off the shot.
SMACK-BOOOOM!!! The deer leapt like a bucking bronco and took off towards the Murder Bush (long story made short: A family was murdered there and it is very thick with willows and spooky). I flung my glove across my nose and worked the bolt all in one fluid motion, took aim and fired again... and again, and again, and again. To my utter disbelieve all of these shots missed except the first shot. As my heart hit my guts the deer stopped, looked around and then layed down as if it was going to sleep. My jaw dropped because ten more yards more and it would have been in a incredibly thick bush with no snow to try to track it. I decided to play it safe and try to circle the deer so if it did get up I could scare it away from the bush and open up on it again.
I eventually got more or less behind it and walked towards it with the caution of a police approaching a downed criminal. I quickly realized the deer was down for the count and put down my gun to tag the thing.
As I was preparing to tag the animals ear I heard a sound from behind once again. I immediately thought it was momma moose out for me again and I spun around will crouching into a fetal position. Again my jaw dropped as I saw it was a second fawn staring at my knife in my hand and the blood stained clothes I was wearing. I slowly picked up my gun again and lifted the barrel in the direction of the fawn, finger gently resting on the trigger. The deer spooked and ran behind a tree, poking its head out once in a while to eye me up. I whipped out my grunt call in an "Ah-ha!" moment and blew its majestic tune in the direction of the deer. It walked out again, standing perfectly broadside and just begging for me to pull the trigger. Never one to disappoint, I did what he asked.
THACK-BOOOOM!!! The bullet struck true and the deer stumbled as it took off running down the hill. I could clearly see that it had wounded the deer because its front leg wasn't moving with the other three. I racked another round into the chamber and hastily fired off a second shot and the deer dropped to the ground, flopping like a fish out of water. I turned back to finish tagging my first fawn and then scampered over to the second one to tag him too. I then ran off to the road and flagged down my uncle, hopping around like a toad on drugs. We raced over to the deer and grabbed them, brought them home and gutted them out. All in all an eventful morning. And since both of them had little stubby antlers (legally short enough to throw an antlerless tag on it). So I guess you could say I got payed for my work (two bucks, get it?......bad pun I know, but work with me here!).
Thursday, October 25, 2007
A Death in the Family
Now that I am more or less over my mourning period I think I am strong enough to write about how my granny passed away two weeks ago. It came as quite a shock to me, and I would have liked to be with her when she died. However, I was at Bible school here in Nipawin doing homework on the weekend. I got the message from my RD (Resident Dean) Matt on the Saturday before last (look at the date and figure it out because I have no clue what day it would have been). It came as quite a shock to me, but I was lucky enough to have great friends here in Nipawin who supported me throughout this difficult time.
Now Granny Nesbitt was a great car to me. I had her for a while, I think I actually got her before I was in grade 11. She wasn't the greatest looking car in the world but she still had alot of spunk in her and was one tough nut to crack.
Me and my granny went through alot of big, important times together. We completed my drivers test together, and she faithfully got me to work and back everyday. We weren't without times of trouble however.
I remember when I was driving home one night and as I came over the second last hill on our road a shadowy figure bolted in front of me. I slammed on granny's brakes too late and heard a slight thud as the deer struck the drivers side light. Granny managed to escape with a slightly damaged hood and a popped out drivers light.
Granny also got shot once. I couldn't believe it when I saw a .22 calibre bullet hole in my passenger side door (front door that is). My dad managed to smooth it out and make it good again, but that gave me quite a scare.
We also hit the ditch once, um...twice actually. The first time was natures fault as I was driving home from my cousins and the road was very icy at the intersection. As I tried to turn and go home the ice worked against me and threw me into the ditch. Luckily a couple of very generous people pulled me out and we were on our way without any damage to Granny Nesbitt.
The other time I went into the ditch Granny wasn't as lucky. I don't know what possessed me to drive in reverse but I decided to back up a distance down our road so that I could get to a better spot to turn around (I forgot money I desperately needed). I lost control and my car flew into the ditch and bashed up Granny something horrible. I mean knocking over two good sized trees and escaping alive is quite an accomplishment for a car, so she's lucky in that sense. Her drivers door was dented and axle bent, plastic ripped apart and her muffler was kinda bashed. However, my dad fixed her up good and she came here with me.
The run in with the trees must have made her weak as I lent her out about two weeks ago to a fellow freshman that we will call Austin. Austin wanted to go and see his girlfriend in Saskatoon and I thought this was a cause in which Granny could help in so she went with Austin for a moderately long drive. On the way back Saturday Granny Nesbitt had a fatal "heart attack" and died on that dark and lonely stretch of road outside Saskatoon.
Now I plan a funeral when I get home in November for her, the last time I will see my beloved Granny. However, all is not lost with me. My grizzled truck Glenn is ready to get me back to Nipawin in November, and I think that he will get the job done great. However, Glenn is no Granny Nesbitt, and I think that he will ever replace her (although he'll be a better hunting companion).
Now Granny Nesbitt was a great car to me. I had her for a while, I think I actually got her before I was in grade 11. She wasn't the greatest looking car in the world but she still had alot of spunk in her and was one tough nut to crack.
Me and my granny went through alot of big, important times together. We completed my drivers test together, and she faithfully got me to work and back everyday. We weren't without times of trouble however.
I remember when I was driving home one night and as I came over the second last hill on our road a shadowy figure bolted in front of me. I slammed on granny's brakes too late and heard a slight thud as the deer struck the drivers side light. Granny managed to escape with a slightly damaged hood and a popped out drivers light.
Granny also got shot once. I couldn't believe it when I saw a .22 calibre bullet hole in my passenger side door (front door that is). My dad managed to smooth it out and make it good again, but that gave me quite a scare.
We also hit the ditch once, um...twice actually. The first time was natures fault as I was driving home from my cousins and the road was very icy at the intersection. As I tried to turn and go home the ice worked against me and threw me into the ditch. Luckily a couple of very generous people pulled me out and we were on our way without any damage to Granny Nesbitt.
The other time I went into the ditch Granny wasn't as lucky. I don't know what possessed me to drive in reverse but I decided to back up a distance down our road so that I could get to a better spot to turn around (I forgot money I desperately needed). I lost control and my car flew into the ditch and bashed up Granny something horrible. I mean knocking over two good sized trees and escaping alive is quite an accomplishment for a car, so she's lucky in that sense. Her drivers door was dented and axle bent, plastic ripped apart and her muffler was kinda bashed. However, my dad fixed her up good and she came here with me.
The run in with the trees must have made her weak as I lent her out about two weeks ago to a fellow freshman that we will call Austin. Austin wanted to go and see his girlfriend in Saskatoon and I thought this was a cause in which Granny could help in so she went with Austin for a moderately long drive. On the way back Saturday Granny Nesbitt had a fatal "heart attack" and died on that dark and lonely stretch of road outside Saskatoon.
Now I plan a funeral when I get home in November for her, the last time I will see my beloved Granny. However, all is not lost with me. My grizzled truck Glenn is ready to get me back to Nipawin in November, and I think that he will get the job done great. However, Glenn is no Granny Nesbitt, and I think that he will ever replace her (although he'll be a better hunting companion).
Saturday, October 13, 2007
To my Love...
I am in a secret relationship. Yes, most of you may have known this or had some sort of premonition about it, actually alot of you probably did. It has been going on for over a year, and it started innocently enough. I first fell in love with her, well, pretty much randomly. Since that day I have had eyes for no other, my love is pure for her. I am led to believe that she feels the same about me as well because she is with me whenever I am home.
Now I suppose that you are getting curious as to the name of my mystery love. Well, I suppose I should tell you her name just to satisfy your curiousity. Her name is Olga.
Olga was born during the Great War, somewhere around 1917. She originally came from Great Britain before emigrating to Canada sometime. Yes, she may be old and past her prime, but she still has life in her left. Now before you think I'm some sort of freaky pedophile, Olga is a gun. Yup, Olga is my Lee Enfield.
I bought Olga last winter from a friend of my dads last year. Now this wasn't against Olga's consent and it definately wasn't anything like a mail order bride. No, this was more like a Native American ritual where the husband would give his wife's parents some gifts for letting him marry their daughter. That is more or less what I did.
We went on our first outing in mid-November during hunting season. Even though we didn't get anything it was an exciting experience for both of us, just us outside in the wild. Since then we have been through alot together, everything from bear hunting to gopher hunting. This is definately love. But now Olga wants her brother, Fritz (who is a Lee Enfield Jungle Carbine) to come live with us. Women.......
Now I suppose that you are getting curious as to the name of my mystery love. Well, I suppose I should tell you her name just to satisfy your curiousity. Her name is Olga.
Olga was born during the Great War, somewhere around 1917. She originally came from Great Britain before emigrating to Canada sometime. Yes, she may be old and past her prime, but she still has life in her left. Now before you think I'm some sort of freaky pedophile, Olga is a gun. Yup, Olga is my Lee Enfield.
I bought Olga last winter from a friend of my dads last year. Now this wasn't against Olga's consent and it definately wasn't anything like a mail order bride. No, this was more like a Native American ritual where the husband would give his wife's parents some gifts for letting him marry their daughter. That is more or less what I did.
We went on our first outing in mid-November during hunting season. Even though we didn't get anything it was an exciting experience for both of us, just us outside in the wild. Since then we have been through alot together, everything from bear hunting to gopher hunting. This is definately love. But now Olga wants her brother, Fritz (who is a Lee Enfield Jungle Carbine) to come live with us. Women.......
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