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.

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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.

Sniffle Hack Wheeze

I disappeared for the weekend with Carolyn to her cottage. Before leaving, I picked up a nasty cold/flu that's been making its rounds. I managed to load enough orange juice and vitamin C pills into my body to hold the worst of it off until Monday morning around 2 am, at which point I woke up and couldn't sleep again for two hours. Lack of sleep combined with elevation changes driving back home yesterday made my head feel like a dense ball of yellow-green phlegmy goo (not far from the truth).

A bit of turkey soup, and time seem to have the cold on its way out.

Back from the Bruce

The extended weekend up at Carolyn's cottage on the peninsula was awesome. Mostly quiet. Mostly nice weather. Mostly good food.

3 hours of rain in 4 and a half days is nothing to complain about, even when you burn your knuckles on the barbecue trying to keep the food from getting soaked with rain spilling off the roof.

In an effort to save money, I tried to keep the road tripping to a minimum, but we did manage to make it up to Tobermory to walk around for a bit and see the million dollar sailboats interspersed with more modest fishing boats and glass bottom boat tour boats. Carolyn told me she'd gone on one of the glass bottom tours once only to find that the 'glass bottom' was a couple feet square window, which you had to fight for space around with the rest of the passengers. Certainly not the image the mind conjures for the description.

We also made it out to the Georgian Bay side to hike a little ways along the Bruce Trail out to the cliffs near Devil's Monument. With Carolyn's vertigo at cliff tops, and with trails running within a couple feet of the edge, we decided not to push very far along the trail.


After turning around and heading back to the van, we decided to try the drive north along the shore to the lighthouse at Cabot's Head. Most of the drive was a one lane gravel road right along the rocky beach with little room to pull aside for traffic coming the other way. Hopefully the scratches along the side of the van aren't anything more than some roughing of the clear coat; I still have to wash off the dust accumulated from that part of the trip. When we got to Cabot's Head though, there was a sign that requested a mandatory donation. The last time I checked, I thought that was called a fee, not a donation. We decided to turn around and were happy with the scenic drive, mostly on principle, but also on lack of change.

The rest of the time up there was spent sitting around in the sun watching the swarms of grasshoppers and frogs hop across the clearing, drinking, and burning through the lumber pile.

I won't use the end of this post to talk about how the only meal really gone wrong was the blueberry pancakes attempted by Carolyn. That would be mean.

Oh, Hey There

I guess I've been lost in the tubes. I'd like to say my absence was due to shocking amounts of productivity, but that would be a lie. You have to be careful about when you choose to tell your lies after all. Between the endless rain and the lack of income of any kind, its been difficult to really plan to do anything exciting.

But, somewhat out of the blue, Carolyn's parents have given her permission to use their cottage towards the end of August, so we'll be heading up to the Bruce Peninsula for a few days. I say it comes as a surprise because, despite her being closer to 30 than 20, they still end to be very conservative and protective in their treatment of her. There is of course some level of control you have to be willing to accept living at home, but then there is above and beyond the call of duty.

In any event, we have use of the cottage for a few days, provided we take care of mowing part of the lawn/weeds, and staining or sealing some deck boards of some kind. I can only hope that the wet weather patterns in these parts don't follow us up there so we can actually make use of the few days vacation time.

Picture Show

Fin.