Wow, I'm pretty sure I look like my dad in one of these. And possibly my grandfather in another.

Well now, if you've got a "That '70's Show" fixation, or are a big fan of "Saved by the Bell" then the next batch is even better:

The horrible irony is that the blond mulleted Zuckervati is pretty darned close to my actual yearbook picture.

But that's neither here nor there. Water under the bridge. I now have an M2 and am legally allowed to drive a motorcycle or scooter. Now to find something suitable to ride. I'm still debating on getting a full-fledged motorcycle or a really powerful scooter. After the training this past weekend and the 14-16 hours of sitting on a motorcycle in the hot sun, I'm actually less inclined to get a scooter, if only because they tend to lack power and range. And friends with motorcycles will make fun of me.

But we'll have to see. No sense going off to buy something I won't use or enjoy.

The results are promising; I've felt pretty energized in recent weeks, despite an almost daily stiffness in joints and muscles corresponding to previous nights' workouts.

Last night, however, I became party to an extra-strenuous workout when, while in the middle of a series of crunches, the instructor began striking me in the midsection with a broom handle wrapped in a towel. This new torture is said to ensure you keep your core tight while performing abdominal work, since that's where you're likely to get hit by opponents, should you resort to the actual act of self-mutilation known as boxing.

After ten rapid strikes in my gut, I was allowed to come out of a half-crunch position. Needless to say, my abs are tender this morning.

The close attention paid by the instructor is partly my fault: the whole class was sitting around the edge of the boxing ring, feet inward. Partners were poised on our feet, and we extended our upper bodies out over the edge of the ring for sit-ups and other ab work. Meanwhile, to ensure tight cores, the instructor came around to each of us, and slammed our abs with the "training device". However, by the end of the routine, I hadn't been attended to, and made a point of mentioning it to my partner. Other people overheard this, and, of course, things got blown out of proportion. Instead of punishing the whistle-blower (like any good boot camp Drill Sargent would do), the instructor returned, and thinking I was making light of the whole issue, proceeded to give me 10 straight beatings while the rest of the class watched.

Ah, public humiliation. Like old times. Afterwards, people came by to congratulate me for smiling and taking such a beating ... so did the instructor (who also mentioned that if the pain is ever too much, to let her know). I noted that around beatings 5 or 6, I said "ok, that's enough," but she just smiled and went about her post-class routine.

Apparently, the heavy rains and wind had saturated and blown over a branch from this large maple tree that comes into the yard from the neighbouring property. This branch is huge (about 30 feet long, but it didn't come crashing down through the studio roof. It merely came to rest upon it. So I've had people in this week to clear it out.

The studio is intact, and the branch is gone. Now to clean up the yard.

I considered taking care of it myself, but it is over 20 feet above the ground, and looked like too big a task for one person. These guys came in and had it out inside of two hours. They were pros.

In the end, the weather started getting a little too turbulent for hang gliding (or not turbulent enough, I wasn't too clear on that part), so I never got my turn. I did get some neat images of R and a friend. We even convinced one of the pilots to free up space in the tandem sail plane (or regular glider).

One of our key tasks in Montreal was to get poutine. Well, really we were looking for the most authentic poutine we could get in the city of Montreal. Poutine, in case you are unaware, combines french fries with gravy and cheese curds. Yes, on the surface, it seems like a pretty basic dish, yet so many of us go on and on about how crappy most poutine is. Most often the comparison is with any kind of poutine that's not sold in Quebec, versus Quebec poutine. Probably the largest issue with poutine is the omission of the cheese curds. Any place that uses shredded cheese isn't making it properly. Doesn't mean it isn't tasty, though.

The second task was to partake in some of the other dishes which are generally not available in Ontario; dishes such as horse meat, unpasteurized cheeses, liquor from the SAQ which one can't find at the LCBO, etc. On our first night, we came downstairs to find that horse was the special of the day at the hotel restaurant. Though we didn't take advantage of the $27 plat principaux, we did look for horse elsewhere in Montreal. Interestingly enough, La Queue de Cheval Steak House does not have horse meat (just in case you needed to know this, cheval = horse).

(Of course, after we got back home, we discovered at least two places in Toronto that serve horse meat. Batifole and La Palette.)

We even found a place that did horse poutine (I think it was Frite Alors), along with many of other poutine variants. Some of the restaurants had whole menus dedicated to different kinds of poutine topped with other stuff. One of the best overall places was La Banquise, a 24-hour poutine restaurant, with a couple dozen poutines on the menu.

We never did get any horse meat (I'm not too disappointed), but we did end up trying about six or seven different poutines from around town. We also got a plate of plain frites from Boris Bistro, which were fried in duck fat. Very crispy. Otherwise, tasted the same as regular fries.

All of the poutines that weren't hidden under piles of bacon, smoked meat, or other additions were variants of the same simple recipe: fries, some kind of gravy, and white cheese curds. So, the quality of these ingredients generally dictated the overall quality of the poutine. After trying a bunch of different kinds, I'm convinced that Harvey's poutine is a perfectly serviceable replacement for most Montreal poutines. It just doesn't seem very authentic.

To mark its place in the festivities, the Canadian Forces set up an information booth in an area of the city where thousands of people gathered for the start of the parade.

Later today, while going through my National Geographic feed, I come across this photo of a Bulgarian fire-dancing ritual ... something performed on the day of the village's patron saint.

A Nestinari dancer performs barefoot over red-hot embers during an ancient fire-dancing ritual in central Bulgaria.

During the ceremony—often held on the day of the village's patron saint—a large fire is lit in the afternoon. After sunset, once the fire dies and the embers are smoldering, dancing begins to the accompaniment of a drum and bagpipe.

Traditionally, Nestinari dancers pray for health, prosperity, and a rich harvest.

OK, so there may be many saints' days in Bulgaria, so presumably the firewalking picture could have been around any day/week/year, but this was very surprising. I just started reading the caption below the image, and it was all so familiar -- still fresh in my head, and described almost exactly the same way in the book.

By the way, The Historian is a great novel. It's essentially a lengthy travel log, told through letters, books, and first-person accounts, on the quest to find the "resting place" of Vlad The Impaler. The historical accounts and cultural/geographical descriptions are surprisingly accurate (for those non-fiction aspects of the book), and the rest makes for a kind of scary, if somewhat plodding, vampire story.

And frankly, I'm a little miffed that Canada's referenced at all in this quiz (although, it's very funny).

Your Score: Almost All-Knowing

You scored 65

You may not be on top of who the deadliest of celebrities are, but you've got an excellent handle on things. Watch out for Beck, though. He may make great music but it's only because he's reached higher Operating Thetan levels!

Well fear not (at least, not about having to go through the letters), simply read the first and last sentence of each letter to essentially summarize the meandering diatribe of the X-tians who are no longer with us. In most cases, this reduces the body of the message to its bare essentials, and if the writer is/was fairly proficient, you should have a clear understanding as to the intended message. If the writer's not so proficient, it becomes more of a game; the letters become surreal, or humorous, or they could potentially be misinterpreted as another type of letter altogether.

Note: This is a variation of the Andy Rooney Game, and is just as fun to play.

Here are some samples, collected from the Internet, of the Rapture Letter Game:

Written by ?

You are receiving this email because the "Rapture" has taken place and you've been left behind. Amen.

(This is short, concise, and lets you get on with your day. Now, let's go look for stuff.)

Written by Heather
Dear Freind: I'm sure you're terrified and confused by all of the terrible events that have occurred. Your friend in Christ, Heather

(The above letter could point to any natural disaster, or could even reference McCain getting elected President)

Written by Matt
To Those Who Did Not Disappear: Hey. Make a decision today.

(I'll decide what kind of cereal to eat today. Thanks!)

Written by Herbert
Dear Friend, Are you looking for me? Wish, truly, that you were here!!

(Yes, where did you go? Was it Panama? How's the weather? Man, I hear some of the resorts give free cigarettes!)

Written by Jim
Dear friends:
I call you friends, in the same manner as Jesus did with us. With much love In Him - Jim

(Aww, that's so sweet. Jim's pretty awesome. I never get letters like this.)

Written by ?
If tens of millions of people worldwide have recently disappeared, then Read this. God Speed.

(I'll read this as fast as I can, you can be sure of that.)

Form Rapture Letter by raptureletters.com
Dear Friend; This message has been sent to you by a friend or a relative who has recently disappeared along with millions and millions of people around the world. God bless you.

(I hope my friend wasn't one of the millions of people kidnapped every day, and forced to join some kind of doomsday cult ... that would be horrible.)

Don't think these letters are useless. They contain valuable information about potentially available material goods and real estate. Remember, it's not just you that's been left behind.