Finding Thunderbird

The journey to Thunderbird's lair began for me when Susan dropped me off at the De la Savane Metro station. I still had some fares stored on the smart transit card in my wallet. I plunked my wallet down on the turnstile and waltzed right in.

Mission: Exfil Thunderbird

Extracting Thunderbird from its winter lair just north of Montreal's Parc Lafontaine is one thing I'll be doing tomorrow. Riding it 500 kilometers to Toronto on Monday will bring the mission to a close.

The Honda Shadow had to be stored because our two car garage in Montreal could manage a Civic, a BMW X3, and a Vespa GTS, but sadly there was no room at the inn for Thunderbird. Not so with our new home in Toronto. Each of our parking spaces can accomodate a car or SUV and a motorcycle, as long as the bike is parked parallel to the wall at the front of the space.

Birds of a feather

I am like my grandfather's pocket watch that tells exactly the right time never less (or more) than twice a day. Well, not quite that bad, but I am running about a week slow. These events happened seven days ago. What can I say? Settling in after a major move is a little more than a full-time job, and keeping up with the dizzying world of the blogosphere takes a back seat.

I could have sworn last Monday's meeting was called for seven. My iPhone and the MeetUp app said six.  So I aimed for six.

Settling in

There is actually some room to spare in the kitchen thanks to some creative use of space under the stairs.

We built one of those custom shelf things on casters that lives under the stairs and holds kitchen stuff that is rarely used but can't be disposed of, like cookie sheets, the pizza pan, the mammoth turkey-sized roasting pan, and some other stuff.

A magnus fumus usque ad udo litore

The title for this instalment of Life on Two Wheels could be our moto. In some ways it represents our immediate family: four kids in Toronto, two in Vancouver.

Cardboard hell, or "where's the kettle?"

Moving day was last Tuesday. It was a day I hope to forget.

"Where does this go?"

"Ah... den."

"Should all these boxes go in the locker? Oh, and where's the locker?"

"Right..."

The beauty of a three story town house, with the den, office, and spare bedroom on the third floor, is that it's a really nice retreat. Or will be, once the furniture is in the right places, the TV is up and running, the home network is firing on all cylinders... To be honest, as much progress as we have made, on M+6 the house is not nearly a home.

Too much cardboard. Too much wrapping paper. Too much, and I thought I'd never say this because normally it's endless fun, bubble wrap.

At least the internet as I knew it and the Apple wireless network is functional. The TV is only partially operational though. I think the Bell guy might have to make a return engagement.

The point of all of this is that there is hope. There is definitely hope.

I just thought I'd check in, in case you all thought I had plowed the Vespa into a culvert somewhere down the 401 in Ontari-ari-ari-oh.

Smoke Meat Pete

How important is Montreal smoked meat?

I explored this with you recently.

I forgive you without hesitation for thinking I was indulging in a just a tiny little bit of exageration. Mark Twain had a nice way of putting it. He called them stretchers, truth embellished with a gloss that invites a reasonable person's closer scrutiny.