Last Week of August

I can't be alone in wondering where this summer went, right?  Add up a couple weekend getaways, a busier than normal work schedule, and putting more time than most seasons into watching baseball, with the Jays being competitive (even odds with the Cardinals and Royals right now to win outright; for what odds makers are worth).  It seems like playoff ticket prices are going to be a bit silly, so, even if given the chance at them, I'm not sure I'll bite.  Between needing some work on my car, having some house upkeep to take care of before the winter, and hopefully replacing my busted ass guitar amp (Marshall, you're supposed to be a mark of quality, a 9 year old amp should not fail for the limited 'rocking' I actually put it through) I don't know that I'll be able to justify the $200 per game rates.It seems like 500 Level outfield tickets might be affordable up until the World Series, should I have access to any.  Having been to many games in the regular season '92-'93 campaigns, and the '91 All Star game, only a playoff game is really left on my Dome bucket list.  Oh, and maybe a Monster Jam?

The 5th or 6th Annual Beer Olympics also got squeezed in the mix, with the take home message being that we're all getting a little older, and further distanced from our college/university levels of energy and stamina.  Some of us learned that lesson harder than others, but thankfully it was neither Carolyn or myself, this time around.

Now the warm weather just has one or two deck parties in store and a Labour Day weekend trip to the cottage where the plan will be to focus on relaxing and having some fun, as opposed to clean up and condensing preparing for likely future sale.  There will be plenty of time for that in the fall.  Of course, hopefully between now and October, the Jays do their best to ruin plans of going away to the cottage in the 3rd week of October.  I love AM radio broadcasts once in a while, but sure as hell not going to go without watching those games on TV.  Forgive me for being such an optimist.  It doesn't happen much around here.

How Do You Like Them Apples?

Back from the whirlwind road trip to Baaaston and vacationing from the vacation.  It was a great trip, but in my attempt to keep it a fairly compact weekend, we tried to squeeze too much sightseeing into too little time, and had to trim out some of the stuff we'd wanted to do.  Amongst the cull list were a side stop at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, walking tours of Harvard and MIT campuses, and, though never formally planned, but a 'time filler' if we had some down time, a tour of the Sam Adams Brewery.  I've learned my lesson.

We did get to see and tour Fenway which, for anyone that knows me, was the biggest check-box on the list.  We opted to just do the short, 15 minute tour of the park, as stage crew were in the midst of converting the field for the weekend Foo Fighters concerts.

This was likely the closest I'll ever get to 'backstage at a rock show'.  We lucked out in that it was the mini-tour guide's last shift of the day, and our group got an extra 10-15 minutes to explore, which you'd think would be a lot of time, but didn't feel like it, which was a common theme for the weekend.

Apparently the tarps laid on the outfield were breathable so as not to kill the grass, and the stage set-up was fully expected to ruin the turf in centre field, but there was no sacrificing the infield turf. There were no fewer than 6 people tasked with guarding the barriers around the infield during the show.

There was still plenty of baseball history on display.  It would seem old teams with winning histories get a bit of a track record of having had some good players, managers, and staff around them.

...and this was just one of the walls of Hall of Fame plaques.


After the Fenway tour Friday, we grabbed some pints in South End, where our friends have a place, and waited to meet up with them for dinner, drinks, and to crash for the night.  It was a great area, and the pub-bistro we ended up at had a fantastic selection of craft beers, albeit at some inflated prices.  The inflated craft beer prices actually were another theme of the trip.  Americans apparently just call any old glass full of beer 'a pint'.  So, whereas if I go out at home to a place with craft taps I can expect to spend $5.50 to $7.50 CAD for a roughly 500 mL draught pint, whereas prices in Boston started at roughly $8.75 CAD and escalated quickly, and were for 330 mL 'pints'.  I mean seriously, USA, you're the ones that insist on using the damned imperial system, at least know its defined volumes.

Beer prices aside, tapas dinner at Toro was fantastic.

The next morning, our hosts took us on a walking tour that covered almost the entirety of Boston proper, including a trip up to the upper floors of the John Hancock tower.  Glass reflections didn't play nicely with the camera, but the view would have been tough to capture well anyway.

Boston was surprisingly walkable, granted, we did spend 5 blister inducing hours walking at a quick pace to try to see everything.

Apparently John Hancock liked to leave his mark everywhere, what a dick.

After the walking tour, we parted way with our friends, and checked in to our hotel on the Cambridge side of the Charles for a power nap before walking back over to Fenway for the Saturday Foo show.  The show was totally worth the blister tearing walk, with locals The Mighty Mighty Bosstones opening in a high energy set from the band excited to play 'the park they grew up in' for the first time.  The Foo Fighters were awesome, playing a full 2 hours and forty minutes straight, with some great on-stage banter, and crowd banter from Dave, with the sports-minded Bostonians frequently giving long loud 'Fooooooo' calls (think 'booo').  Highlights for me were an acoustic cover of 'My Hero', and a cover of 'Under Pressure' which they've been doing semi-regularly, from what I've seen, on this tour.  The extended riffing during the solo section of 'Outside' off of Sonic Highways was also great, with Dave never really achieving the all out guitar solo he seemed to be going for, and joking after the song, "Gimme a break, I'm a drummer".



On Sunday morning, being a bit exhausted from a few days of driving and hiking around, we decided to sleep in and get on the road for home a bit early, at the expense of some of the other things we'd wanted to squeeze in to the trip.  A decision that turned out for the best, hitting two different 2 hour traffic jams on the ideal 9 hour drive home.  Amazingly, the border crossing was one of the faster ones I've ever experienced.

And so, after getting in late, both of us today are taking vacation from vacation, before getting back to the grind. 

Boom and Bust

The nature of my work typically sees quarterly peaks and valleys in the amount of work that needs to be done. Generally, March, June, September and December are my busiest months, with extra special levels of madness in June and again in December when the month is shortened by the holidays.

I'm just starting to come clear of the blur that's been June now, and realizing that, holy shit, its already the end of June! In less than a month we'll be taking our extended weekend road trip for the Foo Fighters in Boston. Or, at the very least, Boston. Some old friends have graciously offered a pull-down bed to sleep on for the entirety of our stay, and we may actually take them up for one of the two nights we intend to stay in the city.

Some other friends of ours were there a couple weeks back, and highly recommend the Sam Adams brewery tour, which I'm told is a proper tour, and not just a sampling session. They even picked up a kit to convert a growler into a hanging lamp (pictures of which will follow once I have it set up). But, being as we're already stopping in Albany on the way down and hitting a brew pub there, I think we may fore go the Sam Adams stop.

Weekends for the rest of the summer are already quickly filling up and double booking, which means, before I know it, it will be September, and time for the next work rush. The eternal pessimist. Here, look at some ducks:

egattoC

The cottage trip went more smoothly than expected, with Carolyn's emotions only really getting the better of her once we were on the last stretch of the drive.


The cottage itself wintered well, with no apparent leaks or cracked pipes, and no-one having broken in since I sealed it up in the fall, which has happened a couple times in the past.  Being basically invisible from the road or any neighbours, its kind of a target for things like that.

The weather was fantastic, and something like 10 degrees warmer than the forecast I'd seen before we left, allowing for some naturism (again, its pretty secluded up there..), and making the outdoor chores enjoyable.

The lone black spot on the long weekend came when we attempted to run a load of the weekend's linens and towels through the washer, and finding that the winter cold and, likely more significant, age of the washer had cracked a seal in the drum leaving us scrambling to sop up a lot of water, without the benefit of a mop.

Its still very much up in the air as to what will come of the cottage in coming months as Carolyn's mom and siblings sort out their desires.  But low maintenance weekends like this one past make me more open to the outside prospect of taking on a second property tax bill.

The Cottage

This weekend promises to be an emotional one.

Carolyn's dad bought a plot of land on a calculated whim, if there's such a thing, back in the 70s, so the story goes.  As he built his family, he also, bit by bit, cleared a plot of trees, poured a foundation, and built a home away from home.

Drilling of a well, setting of a septic bed, clearing of a path for an overhead, electric line through trees, and clearing of trees jeopardizing those lines all undertaken by Carolyn's dad.

Built from the ground up, basically by hand, this first visit to the family cottage this weekend will be difficult.  In the days following his passing, I drove up with a a long time friend, and, as small cities go,  also distant in-law of the family, to grab some belongings for visitation, and drain water lines since it was pretty clear at that point, no-one would be, or want to be going back to the cottage for a while.

At the time it was an act of preservation, and support.  I knew there were important family photos there, and I also knew the cottage would need to be prepped for winter, because the stalwart of that landing was no longer around.

As it turned out, Carolyn and I had been the last occupants a few weeks earlier, with our notes of minor maintenance issues still sitting on the kitchen table, as was tradition.  In the shock of how these things go, my old friend and I grabbed the required, as well as some quirky belongings, ensured antifreeze in the drains, and completed the cannonball run up north and back.

Funeral, extended visitation with extended family, and time.  And all the adjustment that comes with funerals.

And now, its time to go back to the cottage for the first time for anyone in the family, and begin adapting with the builder no longer being around to offer his critique.

Its started to hit me more than it did in those first days of rushing up to just 'take care of things'.

To have a dedicated father, with goal in mind of a family retreat, and place to relax in in retirement.  A retirement that was just shy of a year away.  Long hours invested to have returns cut short.

And as trying as it will be for me, for Carolyn, as the oldest, and most embracing of the cottage experience and all its trivialities, I don't expect it to be easy going.  Frequently disagreeing with her father's 'design' ideas, and propensity towards brown paint, and 100W lightbulbs everywhere, Carolyn, with her mom, took pride in finishing details of the projects, arranging, and organizing the cottage into what is a truly relaxing retreat.

I can only try to imagine and ease the emotions Carolyn will go through this weekend, likely without success.  Myself, I'll be building a fire in the 'limestone amphitheater' hot enough to quickly evaporate any eye moisture that I expect may accumulate in memory.

Market Saturation

After years of being envious of Europe for all its music festivals, it seems there's a big push in North America to have more weekend style festivals.

Just within a couple hours driving radius this summer, I could choose from:

-Hillside, Guelph
-Big Music Fest, Kitchener
-Riverfest, Elora
-Field Trip, Toronto
-NXNE, Toronto
-Bestival, Toronto

But with tickets for 2 big shows already this summer, and the costs inherent with going to Boston for one of them, I'm not sure if a festival is in the cards.  Especially with lineups, that, while interesting, are nowhere near the caliber of Coachella, Lollapalooza, or Rock Werchter.

Riverfest will be my pick if I do decide I have more disposable income.

Finding Focus

Sometimes, I need to remind myself to stop focusing on the details, and at the same time, not get too worried about the big picture. I have been swinging to the extremes lately, and not spending much time in the middle.

The Worst

The worst people in the 1st world:

1)  NIMBYs; want their houses powered and well landscaped, want it cheap but also locally sourced, bitch to no-end when a wind farm or quarry is started within 20 km of their Xanadu.

2)  Anti-vaccination'ers'; needs no explanation.  If you're reading this, its probably because you've had vaccinations.

3)  NIMBYs; want to consume lots of things, and toss the packaging for those things in the garbage, then move into houses next door to the place where that garbage is piled, and complain.

4)  Pseudo-science hucksters; most reasonable people don't actually consult astrology anymore.  But in its place, about a billion people, half of them on your Facebook feed, with the perfect aromatic or nutritional solutions to all your problems.  All without any peer reviewed, reproducible evidence of efficacy to be found.  That aromatic oil you're buying? Snake oil, at best (probably didn't even come from snakes, which would at least be sort of cool?)

5)  NIMBYs; move into huge, new build McMansions with no backyards, but still find a way to complain about their backyards.

6)  MLB home-plate umpires.  The rules of the game are not your own to interpret.  Stop calling the strike zone as though it was.  No team bias here, watching plenty of neutral games a year, I just want to see the zone not as interpretive dance, but as a clear, concrete thing.  Robots could easily do it.  Don't give MLB ammunition going into your next #umpshow collective bargaining agreement.

7) NIMBYs; move in to nice new subdivisions near airports, pre-dating subdivison construction, then complain about noise from objects magically flying through sky (those things are only okay when flying to 5 day, all inclusive getaways in resort-land).

8) Politicians.