This past fall I got married, before the big event my friend Matt took me to dinner in Toronto to a place called Barberian's Steak House. This was without a doubt the best steak I have ever eaten and likely will remain standing on the top of that list for a very long time.
The restaurant is amazing, the decor and furnishing all very tasteful and classic. This is not the type of place with loud music, TV's everywhere and table tops you can draw on. The service was also impeccable, they knew that Matt and I were there to enjoy a meal together and while everything was taken care of with the utmost detail the staff were just a part of the whole scene.
The steak was incredible! I got rib steak and where so many places you go they cook your steak wrong or you need sauce of some sort or horse radish just to make the meat palatable, this was a thing of beauty. Cooked perfectly and not requiring so much as a single grain of salt to make it perfect.
It was costly, but this level of cuisine and service makes it worth every cent. I have been to quite a few steak houses both here in Canada and in the US and even on our last cruise, none of them come even close to the amazing steak I had at Barberian's.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Hockey
I play hockey. I have played for quite a while now and I love it.
I love it now more than I used to actually, because now it doesn't kill me to play.
Until I was in grade 6 or so I really paid no attention to hockey. I had a sweater or two that my dad had gotten me, but I was pretty much unaware of hockey in general. My dad did have the foresight to attire me in the grab of a winning team as seen here:
Adorable.
Anyway, I only started to like and watch hockey when I was about 11. It would be another few years before I even played hockey, or in fact even knew how to skate. We lived near Buckhorn at the time (Quiz: How do you know you live in the middle of nowhere? You live near Buckhorn) and once we had gotten me some second hand skates we'd go play once a week at the Lakehurst arena. Which was just an outdoor rink. These games were great, usually 8 or 9 people on each team, some stunk, some where really good. I was terrible. I could hardly even skate for starters and stopping was a completely different issue.
I could not stop. At all. All I could do was slow down using the snow plow method or dragging my one foot, even that was poor because I was such an ankle burner.
My stopping revelation would not come until I was 16! I made a rink in the back yard at home, much to the protest of my mom who was certain it would ruin what little grass we had. It was something that had to be done however. My friend Phil went to a church that had a group of guys that would go play every other Saturday (at the time) and I wanted to be in on that. So I made this rink which took days to get the ice thick enough that it was skate-able and on the very first time I was on it, bam, I learned to stop. It was either that or go cartwheeling across the snowy lawn.
Since then I have played hockey in some form almost every year. But I would say that this year is the first year I would actually consider myself to be a hockey player. Why? Because it used to put me in agony to play. I would go play Saturday nights have the shortest shifts I possibly could and come to the bench gasping for air each time. My back would kill me for days after and I would have to convince myself to go and play.
I was a big guy. And though I enjoyed the idea of playing hockey, most of my body rebelled when I made it go through with it. One of the side benefits of losing a bunch of weight was that all these physical things I like to do became so much easier. The picture above was March 2010. The one below is August 2010.
I had the opportunity to play the last few games of a summer men's league. It was fantastic to discover what I was then capable of doing. Still now in February 2011 I can do that much more even its great. I love going to play hockey, that I can skate as fast or faster than anyone on my team, that I no longer die a little each time I reach the bench after a shift.
This year, next week in fact, I'll be playing in a tournament, minimum of 3 games on Saturday (plus our regularly scheduled game Saturday night - but at the Memorial Centre - you should come, bring a can of food for admission) which at this time last year would have been impossible. I am excited. Really excited about the whole idea.
I love it now more than I used to actually, because now it doesn't kill me to play.
Until I was in grade 6 or so I really paid no attention to hockey. I had a sweater or two that my dad had gotten me, but I was pretty much unaware of hockey in general. My dad did have the foresight to attire me in the grab of a winning team as seen here:
Anyway, I only started to like and watch hockey when I was about 11. It would be another few years before I even played hockey, or in fact even knew how to skate. We lived near Buckhorn at the time (Quiz: How do you know you live in the middle of nowhere? You live near Buckhorn) and once we had gotten me some second hand skates we'd go play once a week at the Lakehurst arena. Which was just an outdoor rink. These games were great, usually 8 or 9 people on each team, some stunk, some where really good. I was terrible. I could hardly even skate for starters and stopping was a completely different issue.
I could not stop. At all. All I could do was slow down using the snow plow method or dragging my one foot, even that was poor because I was such an ankle burner.
My stopping revelation would not come until I was 16! I made a rink in the back yard at home, much to the protest of my mom who was certain it would ruin what little grass we had. It was something that had to be done however. My friend Phil went to a church that had a group of guys that would go play every other Saturday (at the time) and I wanted to be in on that. So I made this rink which took days to get the ice thick enough that it was skate-able and on the very first time I was on it, bam, I learned to stop. It was either that or go cartwheeling across the snowy lawn.
Since then I have played hockey in some form almost every year. But I would say that this year is the first year I would actually consider myself to be a hockey player. Why? Because it used to put me in agony to play. I would go play Saturday nights have the shortest shifts I possibly could and come to the bench gasping for air each time. My back would kill me for days after and I would have to convince myself to go and play.
I was a big guy. And though I enjoyed the idea of playing hockey, most of my body rebelled when I made it go through with it. One of the side benefits of losing a bunch of weight was that all these physical things I like to do became so much easier. The picture above was March 2010. The one below is August 2010.
I had the opportunity to play the last few games of a summer men's league. It was fantastic to discover what I was then capable of doing. Still now in February 2011 I can do that much more even its great. I love going to play hockey, that I can skate as fast or faster than anyone on my team, that I no longer die a little each time I reach the bench after a shift.
This year, next week in fact, I'll be playing in a tournament, minimum of 3 games on Saturday (plus our regularly scheduled game Saturday night - but at the Memorial Centre - you should come, bring a can of food for admission) which at this time last year would have been impossible. I am excited. Really excited about the whole idea.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
An Update
Hello Blog Readers,
Noticed how I put your name with capitals? Doesn't that make you feel important? It should!
I have a couple of updates for you which I am sure you may have noticed.
There are ads on the sides of the blog now. Click them if they interest you! I get money for it, real honest money, how cool would that be to be able to use this space to fund more adventures to write about? It would be very cool, so please click the ads, and let the page load up. Thanks.
Also I hope I have made it easier to leave comments, something weird about this site you have to submit your comment like 10 times before it goes through, or it used to anyways, I turned off pretty much every safety on the comments section so maybe it will be easier to leave comments. You don't have to be registered or anything anymore. I like reading comments so please leave some!
And now to your regularly scheduled postings.
Thanks,
The Management
PS - Click the ads, leave a comment!
Noticed how I put your name with capitals? Doesn't that make you feel important? It should!
I have a couple of updates for you which I am sure you may have noticed.
There are ads on the sides of the blog now. Click them if they interest you! I get money for it, real honest money, how cool would that be to be able to use this space to fund more adventures to write about? It would be very cool, so please click the ads, and let the page load up. Thanks.
Also I hope I have made it easier to leave comments, something weird about this site you have to submit your comment like 10 times before it goes through, or it used to anyways, I turned off pretty much every safety on the comments section so maybe it will be easier to leave comments. You don't have to be registered or anything anymore. I like reading comments so please leave some!
And now to your regularly scheduled postings.
Thanks,
The Management
PS - Click the ads, leave a comment!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
What I Learned From Getting Kicked In The Face
Back in the summer of 2007 I think it was we sparred at karate a lot! At the time Pete and I were Sempais and with insurance rules allowing it at the time we ran a bit of a sparring session every other Saturday. It was quite a bit of fun actually and we did it for almost a year I think.
During the time we spent sparring there were days when the level of contact, commitment to techniques and competitiveness would rise. These are the days when I learned the most, because they would be invariably the days when I got hit a few more times than usual. Shots to the body were fairly common, hard blocks were as well, I enjoyed that aspect quite a bit really, I knew I had made contact, or had been hit well. I took a few punches to the head as well but with the gloves on it took a real hit to know you had your bell rung.
And then there are a few notable times where I got kicked in the face. What was important about these instances was that I bled. The first time it happened I was stunned, blood leaking from my nose we called a halt to the match and I went to the bathroom to stuff some kleenex up my nose to stop the bleeding. The second time it happened we kept on sparring until we had no choice but to stop since I was getting blood all over the place.
What was different? It certainly wasn't a gentler kick, and it wasn't about placement of the strike, both clipped my nose. Was I tougher? Was I more inclined to show that it didn't hurt? I don't believe so. I think it had much more to do with that it had happened before and I was therefore less impacted by the event at the time.
I learned that I can still continue when struck, I learned about how I would handle myself in a situation where another person has hit me hard enough with good placement to make me bleed in front of others. Did it make me any worse in the eyes of the people observing? I doubt it. Even the first time when we stopped sparring when it happened I'm pretty sure no-one was like 'Oh Chris is bleeding, what a wuss.'
Getting hit comes with the territory when learning a physical art. Over the time I've been at karate I've been head-butted in the nose, kicked in the crotch and elbowed in the head by students of various ranks, some lower than mine, some higher. The thing I have learned from those events is how I'm going to react to them, not only from a physical standpoint, but from a mental one, from an instructor view as well. Getting hit and dealing with it appropriately builds character.
During the time we spent sparring there were days when the level of contact, commitment to techniques and competitiveness would rise. These are the days when I learned the most, because they would be invariably the days when I got hit a few more times than usual. Shots to the body were fairly common, hard blocks were as well, I enjoyed that aspect quite a bit really, I knew I had made contact, or had been hit well. I took a few punches to the head as well but with the gloves on it took a real hit to know you had your bell rung.
And then there are a few notable times where I got kicked in the face. What was important about these instances was that I bled. The first time it happened I was stunned, blood leaking from my nose we called a halt to the match and I went to the bathroom to stuff some kleenex up my nose to stop the bleeding. The second time it happened we kept on sparring until we had no choice but to stop since I was getting blood all over the place.
What was different? It certainly wasn't a gentler kick, and it wasn't about placement of the strike, both clipped my nose. Was I tougher? Was I more inclined to show that it didn't hurt? I don't believe so. I think it had much more to do with that it had happened before and I was therefore less impacted by the event at the time.
I learned that I can still continue when struck, I learned about how I would handle myself in a situation where another person has hit me hard enough with good placement to make me bleed in front of others. Did it make me any worse in the eyes of the people observing? I doubt it. Even the first time when we stopped sparring when it happened I'm pretty sure no-one was like 'Oh Chris is bleeding, what a wuss.'
Getting hit comes with the territory when learning a physical art. Over the time I've been at karate I've been head-butted in the nose, kicked in the crotch and elbowed in the head by students of various ranks, some lower than mine, some higher. The thing I have learned from those events is how I'm going to react to them, not only from a physical standpoint, but from a mental one, from an instructor view as well. Getting hit and dealing with it appropriately builds character.
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