tim’s thought property

So, as it so happened, Tim (Penner) and I were planning to see Ocean’s Eleven (1960), the Frank Sinatra version - you know, the original. It was playing at the Ellice Street Theatre, a recent business to the west end of the city, they play free movies, four nights a week. They go in themes, with a current film playing Monday, Tuesday and Thursday; then a classic film on the Wednesday. This week was Ocean’s Eleven (2001), with the remake playing on the three days.

Last week, Tim and I went over to see the Rat Pack in all their glory on screen, but were confronted with a middle aged Charleton Heston on the ill-fated Planet of the Apes (1968). Yes, we say Heston in his crowing moment, delivering his lines with that flare and panache that only he can do. …it was a long movie. Or at least long for my attention. When something is a bit of a novelty, you get bored with it rather quickly.

Anyway, this week we drove down and parked and walked into the theatre. Right off the bat, something was amiss. The fact that there were a handful of people coming to the movie as we did was a bit of a surprise. Then, when the concessions counter had coffee available, that was also a little strange. We walked in to the theatre itself, and it looked like the total cumulative attendance from the summer was there, (every time Tim and I would go, there would be a dozen people on average, in a 200 seat venue) leaving us with a more crowded spot to sit in. I looked on the stage and saw a podium, lit by an overhead light, and Tim and I were still muttering our confusion and uncertainty. So we promptly got up and went back to the lobby and looked at the posters, which said Ocean’s Eleven (1960) Thursday September 15th. With our griping a little loud, a lady next to us told us that the Mayor of Rochester, New York had come to town, and was having a discussion about Urban Renewal. This explains the many senior citizens, the coffee and the podium.

It looks like Tim and I were foiled again, and won’t see Frank on the big screen. Why not go on the 15th, as in today?, you ask. Well, I’m attending the Attics CD Release Party at the West End Cultural Centre tonight, and that overlaps the time when Danny Ocean will be robbing the casino, and the band takes the stage. That’s why. Which, by the way, you should come to see the Attics, if you live in the city. Tickets are $10 in advance, $13 at the door. Matt Epp and The Morning After are opening, and the Attics are a phenomenal band. Check them out, support your local artists.

And I’m done.

All of my recent days have been revolving around coffee. When I wake up, I’ll put on a few cups, let it brew and have it by the end of my breakfast. Often times I’ll have another cup or two at night, in the evening to just sit back and ponder with. Lately, all my thoughts have been involving getting a job and everything else is dependant on that. I can’t plan too far ahead, since I need to organize that with my [yet to exist] work schedule. I can’t begin to pay back my loans until I have an income. There is no point in even imagining how to budget what to save and what to pay back when I don’t even have an income. Even my hopes for continuing my education next fall have much to do with the money I earn and save this year. How does coffee fit in?

Well, the thoughts that come up like this happen a lot over coffee, be that by myself, with company or even just by ordering it from a cafe. You see, I’ve had my mind set for a few weeks, on working at a Starbucks; thinking it would be a good environment to work at. I’ve known a few people who’ve done it, nearly every person in Washington state has worked at one [kind of like the staple resume prerequisite] and most of them enjoy it. I figured that I would love to do it. To get to learn what makes a coffee roast so tasty, what the differences between certain blends are, how to make espressos and lattes and impart to other people a good feeling and a good beverage. You see, I’ve had many fond memories inside numerous Starbucks stores. I would love to be able to work in one. So each time I’ve brewed some coffee, I’ve been struck with the thought to work at one.

So far, there hasn’t been a call back or interview from the first location tried. I have about five other applications to fill out to distribute at five other locations. For them it’s a risk, to hire someone without experience. But they don’t understand my desire to work there, or my ability to do a job well. It will be a little bit of faith to hire me, but I think it will be rewarding for them in the end. I believe I would enjoy it there.

On one particular day this week, there was a particular fifty-percent off everything sale, at a particular Village. Being the person that I am, I thought that this would be the perfect to get some neat stuff for cheap. So did a thousand other people.

I walked into the store and began perusing the racks for clothes and whatnot. I found a shirt here, and a shirt there. I flipped through all the LP’s and found a copy of Chariots of Fire by Vangelis. I strolled to the bedding aisle for a throw pillow or two, but found none. I looked at the furniture, just for the sake of it being a fifty-percent off everything sale. I found a great winter coat, long and black, heavy as the Dickens, as it so happens. That little number, with no visible defects at all, was $4.99 on sale. I know! It’s a steal! …A legal steal.

I found my way to the knick-knack aisle and saw in my passing, a small old lady, with a cart full of mason jars. They were all on the bottom, with a few clothes on the sides, but she had at least a dozen jars! They were of all shapes and sizes, from small jam-sized jars, to medium pickle-style jars, to large body-part-in-formaldehyde jars. I’m sure she felt on top of her game for securing such an impressive stash of mason jars.

Now, up until last week I had no pressing need for jars. But I was given two half-pound bags of Starbucks coffee, one was Yukon Bold, the other Was Guatemala Antigua Medium blend. Since I read the sides and decided to treat this coffee right (seeing as it was not bottom-of-the-barrel Folgers) and store it in the fridge; the only containers I could find were - Mason Jars.

So, with this in mind, I begun to hurry to the shelf of Mason Jars and found a vast plethora of sizes, from the small preservative-sized jars, to the medium “enough to hold a half pound of coffee” size, to the large “you could fit the hand of a person in there” size. The problem, however, was that there were no lids. You see, the Mason Jar Lady took all the usable lids, leaving a few rings on some of these jars. So as I was looking through the collection of jars for an appropriate medium sized jar, I took the lid off a small jar, and tried to fit it to a medium, not unlike Prince Charming and the Glass Slipper idea.

Well, it worked, I found one, and walked away to the counter to pay for my findings, although half off of $.29 seemed a little outrageous. I’d pay for them at full price any day. It’s strange, I now have a sort of fondness for Mason Jars.

As you can see, the lovely Sarah is pointing on the giant, scaled topographical map of Alberta, to where Lethbridge is. It is very southern in Alberta. There is a coulee there. And a couple of Smitty’s. The End.