Two Small Steps

I was never much of a runner. In my youth my cardio of choice was swimming. I could swim, literally, for kilometres and not be tired. When I was training to be a lifeguard, I’d get into the pool 30 minutes early and swim an easy 40 or 50 lengths. At 25 meters a length, 40 was already a kilometre, so anything extra was just showing off.

But ask me to run a few hundred meters and I’d be wrecked. 

And that was back when I was fit. When I started boxing earlier this year, I most certainly wasn’t fit. So, after a warm up routine of high knees, jumping jacks, fast feet and more, asking me to run around the block was torture. The first night we had to do that, I could hardly breath when I got back in the door, and I hadn’t even managed to stay running the whole time. I could barely swallow some water between the gulps of air my body was taking in and felt genuinely nauseous. 

Skip forward a few weeks and I’m really enjoying the circuit classes, making big improvements over time. The post-warm up run isn’t every class, but when we do it, I’m getting consistant with my performance, heading out the door toward the front of the pack and ending toward the middle. This makes me very happy. 

Then one evening there’s only eight in the class. We do our warm up and Sean tells us to run around the block while he sets up the circuit. I’m second out the door, but take the lead just after the first corner. I try to keep a steady pace as I head around the back of the gym. As I round the last corner, I realize I’m still in the lead. I have no idea how close the rest are, and I’m not willing to glance back to find out. My heart is pumping, my legs are straining, but the front door is in sight. With one final burst I break for the end and round the corner into the gym. 

Sean turns and spots me, shouts “Denis! You did it!” and gives me a huge high-5. It feels fucking great! 

The following week we have the biggest class attendance up to that point. 23 members present from the start. Sean orders a run and we all file out. I’m in the top five out the door, and my performance the previous week is fresh in my mind. Rounding the second corner that leads to the back of the gym, I start to speed up and one by one, take the lead. On the third corner I can hear the steady rhythm of another set of feet behind me. As we round the last corner and start for the door to the gym, I can hear breathing just over my left shoulder. I push forward, focusing solely on the door but hearing the heavy breathing of someone right on my heels. 

I burst in the door and Sean is delighted to see me again, congratulating me on my continued improvements. I stop and turn to the guy behind me. I’m breathing just a bit deeper than resting breaths.

“Thanks for the push. I could hear you behind me and it made me keep going.”

Between gulping breaths he responds “I was just trying to stay close to you and you kept on going faster.”

Related:
One Small Step

On Friends And Friendship: Part 2: SHUX

Attending the first ever Shut Up & Sit Down convention, SHUX in 2017 was a joyous experience. I walked in knowing very few people and left knowing many more and feeling worse for the fact that I only got to see them for three days.

I got in to SHUX 2018 at 8am Friday morning. Well, technically, I got in at 7pm Thursday evening, when I went in to deliver a pile of my game collection to the library for the weekend. What was supposed to be a quick in and out delivery turned into something a bit longer as I stopped to say hello to lots of familiar faces, mostly local gamers volunteering at various demos.

But back to Friday morning, where three days of magic was about to begin.

Like I said, I got in to SHUX 2018 at 8am Friday morning. I marched along the long hallway leading to the entrance and was stopped halfway by a friend calling my name. Not even in the door and everything was already looking up. We went in together, flashed our badges at security, the lovely and always amazing SHUX volunteer force, and headed for the huge open gaming table space. We picked a completely random end table along one isle and set ourselves up.

Within minutes I had become reacquainted with friends from a year ago, as well as meeting in person someone I had been connected with over twitter. This was made very easy as I had immediately set up Inis on the table and as teaching it, and everyone knew I was the Inis guy from last year[1].

That table become our home for the next three days. Every morning we all met up there. Throughout the day we’d drift around, playing games at other tables, or teaching groups around the hall, but that was our home. And as the convention passed, the number of people that frequented that table grew. Some of us would join another game and then bring back people from that game to our table to play something else. People would walk past and see us playing something epic and stop to talk about it, or join in if there was still a seat free. I asked everyone that walked within earshot if they wanted to play the ever growing Karuba, until finally I had a full collection of eight players! Twice!!

And when things got quiet, late in the evening, our spot was still open and inviting. I sat down to play Fog of Love with a friend around 8pm Saturday and as we were setting up a random attendee dropped by to check it out. We invited him to sit in and relax for a bit and enjoy the unfolding chaos. Over the slow metal down of my relationship with Brent, we both became friends with TJ.

SHUX is a magical convention. People from all over the world come to Vancouver to play games and I get to meet as many of them as I can. On the last night, after we had been kicked out of the hall, myself, Jordan and Richard joined my wife and my our kids for a meal. Claire had met up with the wife of one of the gamers attending SHUX and they had gone to the aquarium for the day to hang out, and they joined us for the meal. And so it was that I got to meet John and his wife and their infant son right at the tail end of SHUX, and became friends with them too. John and I immediately bonded over each of our wives telling us to look out for the each other, and being equally perplexed at how we should accomplish that in a hall over approximately 1,700 gamers.

Saying goodbye at the end of the meal, especially to Jordan and Richard, in whose company I had spent the entire previous three days, was tough. I truly think of them as great friends. I know I probably won’t see them for another year, but by God, I can’t wait for SHUX 2019 when I get to hang out with all my great friends again!

[1] I had taught the game nine times over the three days of SHUX 2017. 

The Digital Era

Having completed eight months of Mariner Moles in my sketch pad, Claire felt it was time I upped my game. I was really enjoying it and really liked my greyscale art, utilizing a whole range of grey shades of markers. I even have a “Warm Black” and a “Black”. Can I tell the difference? Nope! 

My birthday was imminent and Claire invested in upgrading my iPad. I have used my Apple tablet every day since I got my first one, an iPad 2, way back in Christmas 2011. Literally. Every single day. I email, tweet, watch YouTube and Netflix, read ebooks, surf the web, skype, stream music, listen to podcasts, play games and more. It’s always in my backpack when I go out and it charges every night on my bedside drawer. 

I’ve owned an iPad 2, and then an Air and I’ve loved them both. With the launch of the Gen 6 iPad that was compatible with the Apple Pencil, I looked into upgrading to that, but having tried it out and talked to Apple Store staff and friends, it was clear that I needed the Pro. 

In the weeks before I got my iPad Pro and Pencil I poured over every tutorial I could find on how to use Procreate, especially this ten-part series from Art and Design. I learned all the shortcuts, strengths, and shortcomings and how to get around them. I learned how to draw comics in Procreate, how to colour and add flair to the images. I watched the videos over and over such that, on the first day I got the Pro at home, after installing all my apps, I opened Procreate and produced my first digital Mariner Moles that first night. 

This one was a lot of fun to do. As the first comic, I learned a lot about digital art. Mostly I learned that I never remember to start a new layer until I’m five minutes past the point I should have done it. I had to erase so much good work throughout this strip in particular because I put in on the wrong layer and couldn’t adjust it later. But in the end, I’m very happy with it. Those YouTube tutorials were amazing and allowed me to jump right in at the deep end, already knowing how to doggy paddle. 

I also learned how to make a Pallet in ProCreate and spent a very short time building a Moles pallet of greys and the colours I use for the sketch layers under the inks. The greys are just from 10% to 90% and then black. Easy peasy. 

Some of the comics are better than others. I find it tough to come up with a gag every month. I’ve developed even more respect for the creators who do this on a weekly or even daily basis. I hammer my head against nothing all month and then usually come up with something at the last possible second, drawing it from beginning to end the night before submissions are due. 

I’m not overly happy with this joke, but I do really like the fishy in the mole hole in the header. So there’s that at least. 

This is my most recent effort, and I very proud of it. The gag came to me while I was doodling the costumes for the moles, trying a few different things on. Once I drew Doug as a ghost, the whole thing kind of fell into place. Scoop makes a great Pac-Man, and the comic comes back full circle to the moles destroying the garden again. I also like the pumpkin at the side, and the skeleton arm in the mole hole. 

In fact, drawing those little suplimentary gags for the headers are a lot of fun in themselves, and they’re usually the last thing I do before signing off on the strip. 

I hope to keep drawing these two for a while to come and it’ll be fun to look back at those first sketchbook strips and see my characters evolve. Maybe some day Ada or Connor will draw one for me.

One Small Step

When I started boxing fitness my plan was to enjoy it and get fit, but accepted that it is a slow process. I wasn’t going to be able to do ten pull ups after the first week, and if that was my hope, I was going to be bitterly disaapppointed and disheartened. Instead I set out with a goal of doing one thing slightly better each time, one thing faster, heavier, stronger.

Lots of small steps.

Many of the exercises look easy when the instructor does it. He makes it look effortless. One of the exercises that looked so easy to do involved the resistance band. It was tied around an overhead bar and you had to kneel under it, hold the band behind you head at the back of your neck and then simply bend over and touch your elbows on your knees.

I tried so hard to do it the first night it was part of the circuit. I strained and struggled and couldn’t seem to bend at my waist at all. Same thing the second night. On the third night, the instructor told me to kneel down more, to rest my butt on my heels and instead of bending with my back, crunch using my abs. I knelt down, sunk into position, grabbed the resistance band and crunched my abs.

Slowly, my elbow drew closer to my knees. I grunted loudly and exhaled as much as I could. I felt my abs crunch even more and start to complain, but I held on. Finally, my right eldow pressed against my knee. That burst of excitement at getting that far after so much failure pushed me to pull my weaker left side down, inch by inch. I touched my left knee, grunted loudly in satisfaction and slowly released the tension.

I managed it twice more on the second set and went home feeling on top of the world.

It’s moments like this that keep me going back. Small steps, big progress.

Related:
Two Small Steps

Stan Lee

I am the person I am today in no small part thanks to Stan Lee. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to diminish the influence of my parents, grandparents, friends and family. They were all part of my upbringing too. It’s just that, as a kid, I loved comics, and I loved Marvel Comics more than any other.

Through the characters he created, Stan taught me that everyone deserves love, respect and happiness, regardless of nationality, skin colour, race or creed, or any other defining trait. Treat everyone with respect and expect to receive respect in return. Likewise, don’t tolerate hatred. Stand against those who would hurt others. Don’t allow bullies to win.

Anyone can be someone’s hero. You don’t have to be big or muscular or possessing super flight to do good deeds. Small actions speak volumes to those they affect. And enough small deeds can change the world.

You don’t have to be rich or an alien or a godess to do good, though getting bitten by a spider, dosed with lethal radiation or filled with an untested chemical serum helps. But it normal people who are pure of heart that make the world better.

Respect your elders. Respect your partners. Respect your teachers and your mentors. And when you make it remember that you didn’t get there alone and don’t ever think that you and you alone are deserving of anything. Work hard for what you want and honour those that got you there and those that keep you there.

May his memory be a blessing.

On Illness And Immortality

We’re all invincible until we get injured.
We’re all immune until we get sick.
We’re all immortal until we die.

We are terrible about talking about anything to do with illness or death. We hate being reminded of our own frailty and mortality and distinct lack of invincibility. But yet, we all have to deal with it at some point, and many of us already deal with it in silence. As soon as you open up to someone, you discover more often than not that they’re going through something relatable too, or know a close friend or family member that is, and appreciate the chance to talk about it.

I learned through the openness of a friend about his own cancer battle that talking about illness is really helpful for everyone. The same goes for any medical condition. As soon as I bring up miscarriages with friends, it seems that everyone has their own story to tell, just no-one wants to be the one to bring it up, but it’s a huge relief to talk about it, even years after. Bottling anything up inside is never is good. Better to have it out in common conversation where people are comfortable mentioning it or asking questions.

But it is hard. I tell people I’m totally fine talking about my Parkinson’s, which is mostly true, but it’s still not easy to drop into conversation.

“Could you pass the salt? I have Parkinson’s.”
“I like this seat in the movie theatre. Nice and central. Also, I have Parkinson’s.”
“Yes, I’ll take my meal to go, please. I have Parkinson’s.”
“Oh, I love Back to the Future. Speaking of Michael J. Fox, I have Parkinson’s.”
And my favourite:
“Shaky cam in movies is the worst! I get it on all my cell phone videos and it doesn’t cost me millions to produce. I have Parkinson’s.”

See? Not that natural.

But when it does come up naturally, or in one of those very few times that someone has politely inquired about my noticeable tremor, then I can talk about, make a few jokes and answer any follow up questions to the best of my ability. Everyone comes away more relaxed.

Knowledge is power. Feel free to ask me about my condition next time we meet. We’ll all be happier for it.

Board Games For Everyone

Last year I started to attend a board game meetup night in downtown Vancouver on a monthly basis. West End Game Night is a really fun and welcoming meetup hosted by some friends and even though it takes me about 45 minutes to an hour to get there, it is totally worth it. It’s a regular opportunity to play my favourite games and discover new ones, to hang out with friends and get a regular night to myself.

At the start of this year the call went out for applications for a Vancouver based grant to support small events in communities and neighbourhoods around the city. The Small Neightbourhood Grant program by The Vancouver Foundation is designed to provide support for projects that bring people together and nurture a community spirit.

My application was for a regular meetup in my neighbourhood in South Vancouver where people could come and play board games in a shared space, open and free to all. I live in Marpole, one of the older neighbourhoods in the Vancouver area, with a wide, diverse population. It’s also central for people travelling from Richmond, New Westminister, or Downtown.

I called it Marpole Meeples.

A local church was kind enough to give us access to their hall, a huge space with plenty of room for tables and chairs, which were provided in ample quantities.

Before the first event in May, I made sure all my friends knew about it. I emailed, texted and instant messaged everyone I had contact details for, even if we hadn’t spoken in a few years. My biggest fear was that I’d open the doors and have four people in this huge hall. Worst still would be four friends that I game with every other week. The whole point of Marpole Meeples was to meet new gamers in my neighbourhood and bring people from the community in to discover the joy of modern board games.

On the first night, I had thirty people show up, of which I knew maybe eight by name, another eight by face and the rest were brand new to me!! Success! As hoped, Marpole had a gamer community I hadn’t met yet, and they were coming out to join my meetup! Honestly, I had a said before that first night that I’d be happy with ten and delighted with twenty. Thirty was not even worth considering for our first night.

To date, I’ve run four Marpole Meeeple events and every one has been a success. We’ve been pretty consistent, with around 30 people gaming each night, and it’s a wonderfully warm and inviting group, with a nice selection of people bringing their own games to teach, as well as those just showing up to try something. I bring two full bags of my own games for people to use on the night, and there is always a great selection on offer among all the tables, with something to suit most levels and interests.

I learned from my friends that run the West End Games Night that the host shouldn’t play games, and I’ve taken that to heart. It’s my role to welcome people in, find out what level gamer they are and find them a table to join, or teach a game to a group if needed. I always have games like Azul, NMBR 9, Guillotine, No Thanks and Love Letter available, as I can teach them in just a few minutes, but I also make sure to pack some bigger games, like Quantum, Flamme Rouge or Sheriff of Nottingham for those who want a longer session. Marpole Meeples runs from 7pm until 10:30, so we have plenty of time for longer games. Just not Twilight Imperium.

When I dreamed this up I thought it would take us months to get to where we’ve been since the very first night. The support from the gaming community has been phenomenal, with people travelling to attend from all around. The financial grant support form the Neighbourhood Small Grant program allows us to keep Marpole Meeples completely free to all who walk in the door, as well as paying for the Meetup.com page, which has been a great success in drawing in new people. It also covers the donation we make to the church for the use of the space.

I’m so glad I get to share my passion for this great hobby of board and tabletop gaming with new faces every month. I’m so grateful of all those who attend in being so open and welcoming and inviting people to their tables.

Together we’ve build a beautiful addition to the Marpole Community and I look forward to it lasting many years.

Product Review: Dollar Store Gloves

As the weeks tick on by and we slide into winter, the weather here in Vancouver has noticeably taken a dip in temperature. I’m wearing more layers and pulled my wooly hat out of storage, but my fingers have been suffering.

I have a lovely pair of leather gloves that I’ve used regularly the last few years. They’re stylish and compfortable and go really nicely with my Rocketeer jacket. But I can’t use my phone with them on. Which is an issue now that I’m playing Pokémon Go again. My fingers go swiftly numb at evening raids or when I go out at 11pm to hit a few PokéStops to refill my items. Don’t judge me!!!

So when a fellow PoGo player recommended some warm gloves that had touch friendly finger tips, I was curious. When he said they were from the local dollar store and cost less than a large coffee, I was suddenly very cautious. One more night of frosty fingers was enough of a push for me to risk not being able to afford a coffee though, and I went to the store and grabbed a pair. 

I picked out a pair that have the capacitive material on the thumb and index finger, as well as little grip dots on the palm and and palm side of the fingers, including thumb. They fit well but felt very thin.

And I love them! I’ve used them a few times now and they really are warm enough. My fingers feel great and given how thin they are, I can still easily hold my phone and play the game, even landing curve ball throws when needed. The grips are great and I feel like I have a secure hold on my phone. I don’t drop touch inputs, though, obviously, my fingers are now a little thicker, so texting is sometimes an issue, but then texting is always an issue for me. 

The gloves are also small enough that they easily fit inside a pocket. They don’t feel bulky, and they just live in my backpack beside my battery bank and charge cable now. 

As mentioned above, my pair has the capacitive material on thumb and index, but there was also a style with the middle finger included. Those didn’t have the grip dots on them, so it’s a trade-off. I do sometimes find myself tapping or scrolling with my middle finger and nothing responding, but I’m training myself to stick to what I have. 

I’m usually of the opinion that anything that is too cheap to be any good is often just that, and you’re better off spending a like extra for a lot more. But these gloves are wonderful, and so incredibly cheap. 

If you’re out playing Pokémon Go on these chill evenings, or just like to use your phone while out and about in the cold, then grab a pair of these.

Related Posts:
On Friends And Friendship: Part 1: Pokémon Go

Float Like An Elephant, Sting Like A Letharic Butterfly

Last March a new boxing gym opened nearby. Boxing is apparently one of the great exercises for Parkinson’s, so I decided to join up right away.

I decided right away.

I actually joined about two months later.

I hadn’t really exercised properly since Ada was born. Before then I used to swim regularly. Since Ada arrived my exercise was running to stop her doing something stupid, or carrying her away from whatever stupid thing I couldn’t get to her in time to stop happening. Kids.

But I decided to try my fist at boxing, and fell completely in love with it. By the end of the first week I owned two pairs of my own wraps, and by the end of the first month I had my own gloves!

I joined Raincity Boxing around the start of May and after the first class I knew this was something special. The gym has an incredibly friendly and supportive athmosphere, lead by owner and head coach Sean Sung, who is just one of the nicest people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. His classes are always fun and funny. This makes for a really inviting class, regardless of fitness level. All the other members are chatty and supportive, encouraging each other to throw just one more punch, or reach for one last push up. I heard another member describe it as a family, and couldn’t agree more.

My goal when I joined Raincity Boxing was just to get fit, but I quickly had to amend that to “get fitter”. My cardio improved almost over night. I started to notice that I was getting stronger, and Claire pointed out that I was developing a rather nice set of abs. All this, and I was having fun!

I’ve never been one for exercise. I was always slim and never really worried about my weight. When I swam, it was a chore, something I had to get up early to do on my way to work. I did it, but mostly because they already had my money, so I might as well use it. Even then, I only did the bare minimum, two dozen lengths and out. I never pushed myself to do better. I was onctent to just swim for 30 minutes and get out.

But this was different. My plan of just going once a week to start lasted less than the first week, and I was going at least twice a week right away. It wasn’t long until I managed to squeeze in a third class, and I was thrilled the first time I made it to four classes in one week! It had been a long time since I was this excited about something that didn’t involve pixels or tiny cardboard components. Even on the days I didn’t feel up to it, going anyway always felt great. As soon as I walked in that door, everyone was happy to see me and I was happy to see everyone.

I’m never going to be a boxer. My Parkinson’s means that my muscles don’t react as fast as I’d like them too, and with limited force. My coordination is poor, and I struggle to put together combos of four or five moves. I find it diffficult to perform the explosive, burst moves that boxing is known for. And I hate wearing contact lenses, so my experience in a ring with a sparing partner would be something along the lines of watching a fuzzy black blur hit me in the face over and over again.

But I don’t care. I’m having so much fun. I love every class. I love meeting new members and welcoming them in. I love getting just a little better every class, one more pull up, just a little faster than yesterday.

That’s all I need. Not a straight 100% improvement, just a whole bunch of 10% steps.

On Friends And Friendship: Part 1: Pokémon Go

I started playing Pokémon Go back in the summer of 2016. I was one of those players not helping the server strain on launch by logging to a US store account and downloading it not my phone before it was officially released outside the US.

Everyone was playing. I’d go to the nearby big park and camp out in the grass beside a triangle of three PokéStops with friends and sit there for hours catching digital monsters on my phone. Dozens upon dozens of other players would be there, all in their little groups, all looking at their phones.

It was huge.

And there was absolutely no in game player interaction. The only benefit to being in a group was when someone on the far side of the grass screamed “DRAGONITE!!” and we all flocked to their location, like a herd of gallimimus.

Once the weather turned, the appeal of Pokémon Go wore off quickly. There was noticeably less people playing and with all the common Pokémon in my PokéDex, little to no reason to sit in the rain soaked mud. I stopped checking every day, slowly lost interest, eventually stopped playing and finally deleted it from my device.

Occasionally, over the next two years I’d see updates and articles about the game. It was still massively popular, with a huge player base. But I never felt the need to get back into it.

Then, this summer, some friends started playing again. One particularly sunny day, I had the kids at a splash park with two of my friends and they were playing. We talked about the new features, like friend lists, gifts and trading, and I started to think about it. Then they joked that Claire and I should just get the app again and log back in while we’re in Ireland just long enough to catch them some regional exclusive Pokémon.

And that did it. The lure of those first generation Pokémon I could never catch before was enough for me to crack. There and then, while sitting under the shade of a tree I downloaded Pokémon Go and logged back in.

I was immediately surrounded by new creatures I didn’t recognize. Everything I caught was a new Pokémon and it was thrilling and exciting again. With two whole new generations out now, 235 new Pokémon in the game, I had lots and lots to catch and it felt like the very first day all over again.

Only this time, I had friends.

And gifts.

And trading!

Oh my!!

Before we left the park I had texted Claire to tell her to download the game as well. She thought I was joking, but by the time she got home from work that evening, she was hooked too. It was fun discovering all the new features, systems, creatures and treasures the game had to offer together.

We travelled home to Ireland and brought back a bunch to trade. Suddenly, those annoying gaps in our PokéDex were within reach. Everyone had a few spares they could share around.

But we only knew of our few friends. Did anyone else in our neighbourhood play? How would we find them. I turned to the most evil thing I could think of, that vile tome of personal information, collected to sell to the highest bidder, the one place I was sure I’d find something, because it has seemingly everything.

I joined the local Facebook group. They were a big, active group that met up regularly and scheduled events together. One of the features added during my hiatus was raids. Raids are big fights in key locations that, at the higher levels, can only be completed with a group, and the rewards are rare and powerful Pokémon. I started to attend these organized raids, meeting other players in person and quickly became friends with some of the more active community members.

Pretty soon I was recognizing more and more people in my neighbourhood while out shopping or walking with the kids. People that were strangers to me a month before were waving at me on the street and exchanging pleasantries on a first name basis, or sometimes (okay, okay, more often than sometimes), Pokémon Go username.

And that’s how I made a couple dozen new friends in my neighbourhood after living here for almost eight years.

Today’s Pokémon Go is a whole different beast from what I played two years ago. Four months into my return, I’m still playing every day. Not as much as when I started in July, but then, I have all the common Pokémon again. But this time, it’s different. I’m not playing just hoping to catch that rare creature in the wild. I’m not even hunting very much anymore. Now I play for raids. I play to meet up with friends for a few minutes three or four times a week. I play for the events that happen regularly, where I meet more new friends out enjoying the game.

I play for the friends I have and the ones I yet to find in the wild.

Gotta Catch ‘Em All. 

I Made A Comic!

I’ve often talked about wanting to do my own comic. A nice, easy three panel web comic that is fast to create and easy to maintain. But I’ve never followed through on that.

Or so it would seem. 

You see, for the last year I’ve been holding out on you, dear reader. Once a month I’ve been producing something creative and fun and not sharing it with you. It’s been a rewarding project, and I’ve had to learn new skills every month. I’ve even gotten new technology to help polish it up and present it better. 

We moved into our new home in a co-op here in Vancouver last year, and during our first month here there was a general meeting to bring all the membership up to date with developments within the co-op and make decisions as a group. We were introduced to the members we hadn’t met up to then, but mostly sat quietly watching and listening. 

One of the topics that came up related to the grass area within the co-ops grounds, and the apparent presence of moles digging it up and causing issues. For some reason, I found this hilarious. I immediately went home that night and started sketching these moles, doodling and refining a pair of them, slowly evolving them into simplier, cleaner shapes. I couldn’t stop. They were adorable to draw. But I had no idea what to do with them. 

Then I discovered that not only was there an internal monthly newsletter, but that members were welcome to submit material for it. Perfect. Now I just needed a gag. And the general meeting that inspired the moles provided that too. 

This was the first appearance of the Moles, Doug (left) and Scoop (right). This first era of the comic was drawn on a sketch pad, photographed with my phone and then adjusted to look a bit better for print, but there’s only so much you can do when it’s not a proper scan. Also, this first comic was left black & white due to time constraints. It all came together late in the month, and newsletter submissions have to be in for the 29th of each month. The gag came from a discussion at the general meeting about whether the grassy area in the co-op was a detention pond or a retention pond. Apparently there’s an important difference. I just thought it was all a bit silly.

Issue two saw the title change to the ongoing title, The Mariner Moles, “The Mariner” being the name of our internal newsletter. I had a lot of fun designing the costumes for the two moles and both went through several iterations. I’m especially proud of Doug’s expression in the second panel.

The fifth issue would see more changes, with Doug getting a new mouth shape. By now, their personalities were emerging. Doug is the one that talks, and Scoop just kind of goes along with him, but is probably much wiser than his friend. This is also one of the very few times we get to see either mole facing the other way. I pointedly avoided the blind comic character cliche of having Scoop facing the wrong way in conversations. 

I love the idea that the moles are aware and interested in CSI. I threw around a bunch of different shows I could have used, but kept coming back to CSI. It just made me laugh every time. Still does. Again, Scoop’s world smarts shine through Doug’s enthusiasm. I hope people got the double gag of the power plug, but also the fact that it’s not a TV.

And that ended the first age of Mariner Moles. There were more than four issues shown here. I drew eight in total in my sketchbook, as well as a few Bonus Panels related to particular events in the co-op.

I’ll show off the second age in another post. 

Medicated For Life

As anyone who reads my blog might know, back in October 2012 I was diagnosed with Early Onset Parkinson’s Disease. At the time I was told I’d probably need medication within six months. Six months later I was told my condition was advancing very slowly and it could be up to a decade before I needed medication, but when I started would be entirely up to me, based on my needs.

Over the summer, a few people had suggested I should start, but I thought I was doing okay and that I was only extra shaky at the time due to flying home to Ireland with two small kids. The holiday was amazing, but I hardly had time to stop and relax for the whole three weeks. I was definitely feeling it, and this time it wasn’t just from coffee. But I still thought I’d be okay once I got back to Vancouver. 

As it happened, I had my regularly scheduled check up with my neurologist just a week after getting back from Ireland. After talking to him for a bit, we both agreed that it might be worth starting medication, even at a low dose. And so, towards the end of August, I started, a little reluctantly, to take the medication that I will be on for the rest of my life. Of course, science advances every day, so that might change, but for now, the rest of my life. 

And the effect was immediate. 

My tremor noticeably subsided. It didn’t go away, but it did become significantly lessened. My speech improved. My reaction times improved. I just felt better, and, I realize now, my mood improved, not because the medication has mood altering properties, but because I could do things easier and with less hassle, removing a lot of passive, low level anxiety from my life. 

I’m taking levodopa, the most widely used medication for Parkinson’s. I take one tablet three times a day, morning, afternoon and early evening. That seems to be plenty enough for now, and hopefully for some time. As an added bonus, I’m not suffering from any of the side effects associated with my medication. They include nausea and nightmares. So, you know. Happy with that.

I’ve never had to take medication longer than a month before. The strongest I’ve had to take before now is a antibiotic for a few weeks. Taking something three times a day is completely new to me, and in my experience, I’ve been bad at doing similar in the past with things that were far less important. Which is why I got the app Round Health on my phone.

Round tracks what I take, and when I take it, and pings me with reminders for each dose. I set the time I want to take it and it builds a window for that dose. My morning tablet is set for 8am, I get a soft reminder at 7am, a banner reminder at 8am and a final reminder at 8:50, asking if I’ve taken the tablet if I haven’t marked it as taken by then. It keeps it all in a calendar so I can track the days I missed one, or when I was late taking one. Very, very helpful.

All in all this has been a big change to my life that I’m doing well adapting too. It’s still not easy. I have to remember to have a small pillbox with some tablets in it in my bag at all times because I’m often out with the kids midday. I’m terrible at dry swallowing pills, so I need water to take them, which isn’t often an issue, but has come up once or twice.

We live in a wonderful, modern society, and medicine is one of the biggest benefits of that. I’m lucky I can enjoy a relatively normal life because of medication, and I look forward to a future where it just gets better and better for me and those like me. 

Co-Op Life

When Claire and I first moved to Vancouver and were looking for accommodation, we were told to look into co-ops. A community living cooperatively together that share resources, support each other and take on responsibilities that akin to improve the space and conditions of everyone in the collective, not the individual. Sounded like some weird hippie commune. 

Last year, we moved into one of those “weird hippie communes” and it turns out to be just a little weird, just the right amount of hippie and the only thing about it that comes close to commune is the community.

We don’t have coooperative living in Ireland, so it’s not something I grew up around. But living in one does feel oddly, reasssuringly, familiar. 

Growing up in the countryside in Ireland, we knew everyone. I had three grandmothers as a child, only one of whom was actually related to me. The other two were people in my community that I held as family. We had a big commmunity for support and safety. If my family needed something, there was, and still is back home, always someone who could help, or at the very least, someone who knew exactly who to contact. 

Living in a co-op, you know all your neighbours. You get to meet them daily in the shared spaces like the laundry room or popping across the courtyard to pick up the mail. The first week we were here I was a short an onion for dinner. Moving is always stressful, and shopping was the last thing on my mind until it was too late and I was halfway through meal-prep. I went downstairs, knocked on our new neighbours door and kindly asked if they had an onion spare. We returned the favour a few months later with something else. But even if we hadn’t been given that chance, it wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t the physical good or the act itself, but the community cooperation making life better for everyone, in small ways as much as the big ways. 

When I was a kid my family went to Trabolgan Holiday Village nine years in a row for our summer vacation, usually around the end of May. We almost always went with the same group of families, friends from around home, and we tried to always get house’s that were close to each other. From the front door of our little holiday home we could see the doors to our friends homes for the week, and we could go over, meet up and head off to whatever activity we had planned that day. I have countless fond memories from those years. Especially the wave pool. 

Ada’s best friend lives mere feet away. From our front door we can see his and regularly bump into each other coming and going. During the summer, Ada can talk to them directly from the balcony. As they grow up and become more independent, they’ll have that safety and freedom that comes with living in a small, supportive community. We don’t have a wave pool though. I’ll bring that up at the next general meeting. 

Living in a co-op is different than what I was used to after years of renting. Ever since I moved out of home and started renting, I’ve rarely known the people renting around me, even if they’re next door in the same building. Now I know all of our neighbours to see and say hi too, and most by name. Renting, you have no control over the building, but in a co-op, we decide on everything together. Anything that might affect the co-op as a whole has to be voted on by the membership. My voice counts. That doesn’t mean I’ll get my wave pool. 

And as members, it’s in our interests that the co-op is well looked after, so we have committees we can join that look after everything from financials and maintenance to social events. Claire and I both are on committees, but also contribute in our own way. We help out at social events like Thanksgiving, and the big community wide cleanup weekends, and I contribute regularly to the monthly newsletter. 

To an outsider (like, way outsider. Non Canadian), co-op living does sound a bit strange. But we are much more secure here than when renting and have a community that can support us and that we can support back, which is definitely something both Claire and I miss from home. And given the cost of housing here and elsewhere, co-op living is certainly the brighter option for us, and we’d recommend anyone to look into it.

Blogging Apps On iOS

One of the reasons I haven’t blogged in a very long time is that the app I used to use to write my posts in died in the 64bit Appocalypse. The developers didn’t have enough sales to justify the expense of updating.

So now I’m writing this post and the previous one directly into the Blogger webpage on Chrome on my iPad, and it’s just awful. It’s impossible to scroll, a chore to include photos, and I’m not even going to try to bother with my usual fancy formatting and nonsensical italics and bolding (I know some of you disliked that, but it reminded me of comic book speech bubbles and helped break up a screen of text). For goodness sake, I’m just writing all of this at once, and for no apparent reason there’s a change in formatting between the first paragraph above and the rest of the text here. Why?!? Why?!?

I have a few options. 

1) Grin and bear it. Just write, and leave it all plain and accept that at least I’m writing, which I really, really need to do more often. I enjoy it, I just enjoy it looking nice too. Or at least consistently formatted throughout. 

2) Find an app that supports posting to Blogger and is good. Unlikely. There doesn’t seem to be one. Loads for Wordpress, nothing for Blogger. Which leads to

3) Give up and migrate to Wordpress. I have no idea how difficult a transition that would be, but I have help. Claire uses Wordpress for her sites, and I’m sure there are blog post tutorials, web apps and tools to help migrate all my posts over. I’d hate to have to start from scratch and have a hard division in my posts. 

4) Just plain old give up. Throw in the towel. Call it a day. It’s been a terrific run, but the curtain has fallen. 

I won’t be doing 4. I promise. But I need to look at the other three options a bit more. 

To the future! 

Meet Connor Michael Ryan

Well, this post is a little overdue. I mean, Connor turned 11 months old today. I swear we haven’t been keeping him locked up in a basement all this time. We don’t even have a basement. Closets, sure, but no basement.

Last December, Claire, Ada and I welcomed Connor into our lives with open arms. For Claire and I, we were ready. We knew roughly when he was coming, though he ended up choosing his own time and arriving alarmingly quickly. But that’s a story for another post. Ada, however, was a trooper. No matter how often we tried to explain in the months and weeks leading up to Connor’s arrival, she didn’t appear to be getting it.

But when our friend and neighbour brought her in to the hospital for that first visit, it was clear to everyone that it was love at first sight for the new big sister. She couldn’t take her eyes off the tiny baby in the cot and was beaming from ear to ear the whole time. Since then, she’s rarely been anything but an amazing friend and sibling, sharing toys, determined to play with Connor and truly enjoying being around him. She’s never shown an ounce of jealousy toward him, and is massively protective and proud of him.

Connor fit right into our family and it wasn’t long before we were having a hard time remembering life without him. Like his sister, he is a relentlessly happy baby, with smiles for everyone who so much as glances at him on the bus. He is bubbly and chatty and loves to chase after Ada. In fact, the first sounds that he made that sounded like anything at all was Ada’s name. “Ah-dah, Ah-dah, Ah-dah” over and over, much to Ada’s utter joy. He doesn’t yet actually associate that sound with Ada, more just parroting an oft heard set of sounds, but it’s still adorable.

He’s definitely his own man, though. Where Ada happily slept in until well past 8am most mornings (and still does), Connor is up at 7am sharp. Where Ada didn’t crawl until 9 months, Connor took off after the dogs the morning we landed at home, a day before he turned 8 months old, and I have no doubt that he’ll be walking, and running, much faster than Ada too. God help us all.

But he was always a little ahead of the physical abilities curve, it seemed. On the day he was born, he arched back his head, looked the nurse that was holding him square in the eye, then threw his giant head, and a fair portion of his body with it, to one side. The nurse was supremely unimpressed with his valiant attempt to leap to the ground at a few hours old.

Everyone that meets Connor comments on how social he is. He likes to stare at people until they notice him, then play shy for a bit, then smile at them before repeating this game with someone else. He craves attention, yet also loves to be on his own.  He always enjoyed tummy time as a baby, and now that he’s older, he’ll happily crawl off into Ada’s room and go play with some toys for a while without me.

Claire and I are so lucky to have Ada and Connor in our lives. Being a parent is not always easy, but with these two, it’s always rewarding.