Wow. Where did the time go?

So things have changed for me and my family. But first I would like to apologize for the months of radio silence. I didn’t intend on it, but it happened.

You see, we have moved. Down south, on an island. Near the ocean. My family and I have moved from the cold north of central BC to Vancouver Island. To Nanaimo to be exact. Why you may ask?

Blame my wife. She applied and got accepted into VIU and is now a university student. Her instagram account and her wonderful art can be seen at the link below.

https://www.instagram.com/gracepedde/?hl=en

My kids are going to elementary school. Here is a pick of them on picture day. I have to get them ready all by myself. That was the best that I could do…

Kids

Me, I am still writing. I am currently prepping for NaNoWriMo this year. If you are doing it, add me as a buddy. My name is N A Pedde. Just mention that you saw my blog.

Here is another pic. This one is my book board.

Book Board.jpg

Each card is a novel or novella or a short story that I am working on. Each column is the different series that I am working on. The line on the right are all of my story ideas.

There you go. In a nutshell. Well, not really. There is more to tell. But that will have to wait on a future blog post.

Hopefully it won’t be as long as this one was.

Until next time.

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Tattoos

This blog post is going to be completely off topic in regards to writing or anything that I normally talk about.

First a brief, or not so brief story.

Some of you may know that I lost my dad when I was young. I barely remember him; I was young when he went. What I do know of him was what I got from my mom and the stories that relatives told throughout the years.

My Grandpas were two men that I am happy to have had in my life. I had a different relationship with each of my grandpas. Growing up, it never occurred to me that one day they would be gone; as an adult it was something that lived in the back my mind, that I didn’t want to acknowledge.

My Grandpa Hennig passed away a couple of years ago. He was the mayor of a small city and we talked endlessly about politics and technology; he loved cameras and solar power.

Then two years ago, my wife miscarried our third child. It hurt her more than she let me know. I wanted to help her in anyway that I could. Grace showed me the picture of what she wanted and she got herself a tattoo.

She got one of a bird and some flowers. It is absolutely beautiful and I can’t even begin to do it justice in any description.

Not long after, my Grandpa Pedde passed away. He was an electrician, a farmer, he loved computers. He knew more about computers than I did when I spent a summer earning money helping him out on the farm when I was 18 years old.

All of these events combined together did something. Growing up I suppressed my emotions and hid away weakness. Hiding away did something too. After the loss of my third child I felt I needed to do something as a memorial, for them all. Most of my siblings have gotten memorial tattoos to suit their needs for healing. When my wife had hers done to commemorate our third I obsessed over it.

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Sorry about the multiple pics. The part by my wrist is hard to see all of the writing in one picture.

I have always wanted to get a tattoo, but I never knew what to get. I would always lose interest in it and change my mind. This time I had a rough idea of some of the elements I wanted to include and handed them over to Kat Cleland of I Heart Tattoos and she transformed them into the piece that resides on my right forearm.

To break down the elements in the tattoo:

The little boy. 

The boy represents the child that we lost.

The cowboy boots and hat.

They represents my dad. When I think about him I think about the pictures that I have seen of him in rodeos.

The kite.

The greatest memory of my Grandpa Hennig was that my Grandma told us to go fly a kite when we were being annoying one day. We did. It was cool. I still have the kite. It was made out of a garbage bag.

The skull-kraken

My Grandpa Pedde was an avid fisherman. He was always fishing, or wishing that he wasn’t so busy that he could go fishing. He always had a story about why he didn’t catch the fish.

The quote

Yes it is a quote. Geek points to all who get the quote. “We are all just stories in the end, so just make it a good one”. The quote speaks to me at a personal level, geekery aside, because my life is fueled by the desire to create/tell stories, and is a reminder to live my life to its fullest.

The scene

This was something that was added by the tattoo artist. I had the different elements and the quote. She put it all together into a small story. The little boy with the slingshot in his pocket is letting go of the bright red kite to fight with the monster of his imagination.

I am quite happy with the tattoo and  am currently trying to figure out the next one. Yes I am getting another one. (So it begins hahaha)

But this isn’t just a cool tattoo. There is meaning behind it. Not all tattoo’s need it, but I feel that this one did. The personal meaning behind it made it possible for me to deal with the lifetime commitment a tattoo requires…its part of me now.

 

For anyone intrigued by the tattoo, feel free to visit the link.

Link. https://www.facebook.com/ihearttattoos 

https://www.instagram.com/katclelandart/?hl=en

https://www.instagram.com/reesecleland/?hl=en

 

Java java java. (Off-Topic)

So I have been receiving some rather harsh criticism from people. Mostly in real life and not those that I meet over the interwebs, but whatever.

The criticism is that I am a coffee snob.

That I turn down my nose at some of the vile sludge that people call coffee these days.

Mostly, they say that I am too good for anything but Starbucks coffee. That I like my multi-named, confusing-to-say-with-out-practice drinks.

Well. I am here is set the story straight.

I. Am. Not. A. Coffee. Snob.

I just will not drink that vile sludge of coffee that is presented in some places.

But first. Lets run down some information on what coffee is. Coffee is grown in a plantation and consists of the roasted seeds of a berry. There is a varying amounts of differences between bean to bean. It depends of the roasting of the bean, and to where the bean was grown.

If the coffee plantation was near an orange plantation, then the beans will have a citrus tone. A cocoa plantation will give it a chocolaty flavor. Coffee beans have the tendency to act similar to tofu in that way.

Coffee beans will also take some of the flavor of the coffee tin that it has been stored in. It gives it a bitter metallic taste that overpowers its intended flavor. It usually takes time to develop, like the length of time the coffee takes to cross an ocean by ship to get to me.

The flavor of the coffee can stay for a very long time if the bean is in an airtight container and is unground,

What does that mean when it comes to me?

It means that I will not drink coffee if the beans are stored in a metal tin. Or if it has been pre-ground. Buying the beans bulk and grinding it at the grocery store is fine. Then it is up to me to drink the coffee. That does not make me a Starbucks only coffee slob who likes his Vente Americano’s.

That’s it. Two simple rules.

  1. Buy the coffee in the form of whole beans.
  2. Coffee must not be stored for an extended length in tins.

Well… There is a third. Don’t buy coffee from Tim Horton’s.

This is the real reason that I was criticized in the first place. I consider Tim Horton’s coffee bad coffee.

For those who don’t live in Canada. There is a coffee chain that goes from coast to coast. It has tried very hard in becoming as Canadian as the maple leaf or the Goose. It sells, donuts, pastries and sandwiches as well as coffee.

It, however, doesn’t know what it wants to be. Is it a coffee shop to rival Starbucks and Blendz Coffee? Is it a sandwich place to rival McDonalds and Wendy’s? Or is it a donuts shop to rival Krispy Kreams and Dunkin Donuts?

Because it is trying to be all of these things, it can’t do anything well. It’s donuts selection is lackluster. It’s sandwiches are bland and uninviting. And it’s coffee is weak.

Like food colored water weak. It looks like my kids was painting and the coffee cup was his paint brush rinse cup. It tastes very similar.

A while back they had introduced a dark roast coffee giving you two choices in coffee. Regular and Dark. The dark wasn’t very dark. It still no flavor of it’s own and as soon as you put any amount of cream into it, it tasted like cream. If you were to translate it to Starbucks coffees, it would be a very blonde blonde roast.

And the ‘Dark’ roast is not much better. It barely makes it into the realm of a Starbucks Blonde roast.

People complained and now they rolled out a new and improved dark roast. Dark. This one is as dark as a nerdy kid playing Pokemon is considered cool by high school jocks. It is a light medium roast. Maybe. On a good day.

I bought a cup of it to say that I have had a cup and the flavor is still bland, no body to it at all. And it still has the Tim Horton’s tang that is a standard thing of Tim Horton’s coffee.

So that is the reason that I am considered a coffee snob. I won’t drink the vile watery piss that is called coffee by some Canadian guy named Tim.

Bah. I like coffee dark. Like my soul.

(By the way. I drink my coffee black. I don’t add sweetener.)