Beer O'Clock: Ah Stout

It was something that my mom would only get for us every once an awhile, as a special treat to take with us in our lunch bags as we headed off to school. Though a single package contained two mini cakes, she would give us only one, each.

(At the time, there were only three of us: did she keep the fourth cake for herself?)

I loved the Ah Caramel! cakes, made by Vachon. The combination of chocolate and caramel on a white sponge did for me then what cheese and bacon on a burger do for me today.

I can't remember the last time that I tasted an Ah Caramel! cake. Did DW and I buy a box, once, to give to our own kids as a treat in their school lunchbox?

But I'm now reminded of these cakes as I take a sip in a special stout that I found in my local LCBO.

Ah Stout Chocolate Caramel Cupcake Stout (5.9% ABV; 25 IBUs)
Sawdust City Brewing Company
Gravenhurst ON

Appearance: deep mahogany-brown with garnet highlights and a latte-coloured foam head that settles to a tight lace.

Nose: dark cocoa hits the nostrils straight away and a sugary sweetness of butterscotch.

Palate: the chocolate and caramel mix and mingle immediately. There's a sweetness that covers the tongue but a dry cocoa that hits the back of the throat and gives this stout a well-balanced, medium finish.

Overall impression: while this is a tasty and complex stout, I'm not quite taken back to my childhood school lunches. I remember the cakes to be overwhelmingly sweet, and for little cakes they sure were filling. In Sawdust City's take on this treat, they've certainly nailed the chocolate and caramel but I don't find it cloying—trust me, for a stout, that's a good thing to not be. The cocoa that I feel at the back of my throat doesn't jive with my memories of the Vachon cake but for this stout, again, that's a good thing. The cocoa tempers the sweetness and gives it a more palatable brew.

I'd take this stout over the cake any day.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺 +.5

While this stout no longer seems to appear on Sawdust City's beer lineup, you may still find some cans at your local LCBO. Snap it up while you can.

Cheers!

Ad-Hoc Cooking

It was a meal based on me not paying much attention. And it was delicious.

I was under the weather when I woke up on Sunday morning. Since the pandemic started, I get nervous if I exhibit two or more symptoms of anything, and I awoke with a sore throat and sinus congestion. I rested in bed until about 10:30 and then came down to the kitchen to have some herbal tea and fruit juice. With the sore throat, I was reluctant to eat but DW insisted I have some of the oven-baked pancake that she made.

For the rest of the day, neither DW nor I had much energy to do anything, so we binge-watched YouTube videos, gathering information and making notes for our upcoming vacation, later in the year. We ran videos on our family-room TV and we scrolled through other videos on our smartphones.

I often see obscure videos pop up on my YouTube home page, and I sometimes stop scrolling when I see food. So when I saw a slender slab of pork tenderloin on my small screen, I paused.

I never have the volume turned up on my phone. I receive notifications through my smart watch, which vibrates when I have an incoming call, when I receive an e-mail message, or other essential messages (social media notifications are not essential). So when this cooking video started playing, I had no audio.

The subtitles were in German, so I didn't focus on them. It would take me too long to figure out what was being said and I'd miss the visuals of what they were doing. The cook took a butcher's knife and made an incision down the length of the pork, butterflying it. They created a rub using various spices and coated the tenderloin inside and out.

Next, they sliced and sautéed white onions, and my mouth started watering. But when they added white mushrooms, my interest started to wane.

I don't eat fungus.

They also added garlic, so I kept watching. When everything in the pan was cooked, they set it aside and started preparing potatoes for roasting by peeling them and cutting them into wedges. They seasoned the potatoes with what looked like paprika, salt, and pepper, and mixed them with olive oil.

Yum.

They then took the onion and mushroom mixture and placed it in the splayed tenderloin, covering it with what looked to be white cheddar cheese. When it was ready to go, they took several rashers of bacon, laid them next to one another, placed the strip of pork on top, and wrapped the bacon around the pork as they rolled it into a tight log.

When they placed it in the oven, I had seen enough and closed my YouTube app.

DW and I had just purchased some pork tenderloin, the day before, as it was on sale at Farm Boy. We were planning to used it through the week, and I now knew how we were going to prepare it.

We continued looking through YouTube on the TV, watching more of Europe and making notes of the cities we were going to make a priority. And as the afternoon moved on, my cold seemed to improve (I had swallowed several cold and sinus tablets, and had used a significant amount of tissues) and I started to rally as dinnertime approached.

I told DW that I was going to cook the pork tenderloin and that I knew what I was going to do with it.

"Trust me," I said. That made DW leery.

First, I took an onion from our pantry and sliced it thinly. I made her my sous-chef, getting her to caramelize them and then add garlic and spinach until the green leaves were reduced.

While she worked on the onions, I split the tenderloin open and seasoned it only with pepper and a tiny bit of salt. I wasn't going to place a rub on the pork. Not this time. When the onions and spinach mixture was ready, I placed it in the opened strip of tenderloin, I cubed some feta cheese and sprinkled it across the veggie mixture.

I laid out strips of bacon like I had seen and wrapped it around the pork, sealing it all in parchment paper and then tin foil. I placed the roll on a baking sheet and put it in a 400°C oven, setting the timer for 20 minutes.

Next, I cut up some baby potatoes and seasoned them with a Montreal steak spice, mixing it with olive oil. When the 20-minute timer sounded, I added the potatoes to the baking sheet, with the pork tenderloin, and set another timer; this time, for 10 minutes.

When the timer went off, I took the backing sheet out, unwrapped it to expose the tenderloin but still capture the juices, turned the potatoes, and set everything back in the oven for another 20 minutes.

It turned out quite well, though I had to take the potatoes out when the alarm sounded and put the pork back in for another 10 minutes, until the bacon had started to crisp.

In truth, I could have added more salt to the pork, but I would rather have too little and have to add it after than to have added too much from the start. DW loved it, though we agreed that next time, we'd try it with some sort of rub.

I followed no recipe, other than to get a visual of how to split open the tenderloin, how to stuff it, and how to wrap it. Some ingredients were copied, some were omitted, and others were substituted. It was an improvised dinner and it actually worked.

DW said she wanted to add this dish to our repertoire, and that's high praise, indeed!

Has Spring Sprung?

The snowbanks are still tall but they're shrinking every day.

And even though it snowed just this past Saturday, you'd barely know it today. I did get out and shovel my driveway, late in the day, because the snow seemed to want to stay there and I hate any accumulation. Yet, none of my neighbours seemed to head out with their shovels and by mid-Sunday, there wasn't any snow in their driveways.

I'm obsessed with my driveway.

I know that March hasn't come to an end, yet, and that we could march out like a lion. We're known for getting snow in April. And although I've made an appointment to swap out my winter tires for summer ones, I'm wondering if the 11th is too early this year.

Last year, on the final week of April—just a few days before the CN Cycle for CHEO 2022 was held—we had a snow storm. The snow didn't last and all but melted as it landed, but I was worried.

Thankfully, we had a great day to ride, and my fingers are crossed that we luck out this year.

But now, I'm wondering if I can stop counting the number of times that I've headed out to shovel the driveway. At the beginning of the snow season, for fun, I thought I would keep a tally of every time I had to put my shovel to use. And the winter of 2022-2023 seemed to have a lot of snow.

To date, I've done it 55 times. Had DW and I not gone to Mexico, in January, I would have had an extra three or four ticks on the blackboard.

I'm now wondering when I should erase the board. Would I be jinxing myself if I did it before the end of the month? Should I wait until the summer tires are on the Niro?

Fifty-five seems like a lot and the remaining snow on my lawn can attest to that summation. Is it more than normal? Maybe I should count next season and compare.

(Clearly, I don't have enough hobbies.)

Happy Tuesday!

Workaround

It's not a solution but in a way, it's better.

On Friday, I complained about how I had been editing my latest video and complaining about how my software, Pinnacle Studio, was glitchy and had been messing with my ability to produce a video without some glaring errors. Video footage would appear upside down. It would freeze the action while keeping the audio running (I'm thinking of spots in my Korea video, my Tay River kayaking adventure, and my Akumal Bay snorkelling adventure).

In my latest project, everything seemed to run smoothly. As with every video, I run the timeline before I export it to an MP4 format and make minor changes or try to fix any glitch that pops up. This video ran without a hitch so I started the export process.

It wasn't until toward the end that I encountered a problem. I explained my woes in my last blog post. For hours, I tried to determine the cause of the glitch. The source clip was fine. There was nothing else running in any of the other channels that could interfere with it.

I tried rebuilding that section, cut-by-cut, but that didn't work. The error showed up in the same spot.

I showed the problem to DW and told her all of the ways in which I tried to fix the issue, and she had nothing else to offer in way of a solution. She told me that she knows the developer who works on Pinnacle and she could show my issue to him, but that would take time.

I wanted to release my video of Portugal's Douro Valley by the weekend. To that end, I needed a workaround.

At first, I thought my temporary solution was akin to putting a band aid over a blister—it doesn't fix the blister but hides it and keeps it from getting worse. The grey screen with a giant 'replay' logo looked awful, so I needed to cover it up.

The error happened when I was tasting some port wine and describing it. In the video clips that lead up to the glitch, I'm sitting in front of the camera and the point of view doesn't change. So I added some still photos of the wine glasses that are super-imposed over the spoiled footage. I exported the project, and it worked.

No more grey screen.

In a way, the workaround is better than a solution of keeping the camera on me. First, you don't have to look at me for as long. Also, the photos are closeups of the port we were tasting, with vineyards in the background, and the sun setting behind the hills.

They are vertically oriented photos but they beat a grey screen any day.

I've uploaded the final video to YouTube: give yourself a break and have a look.

If you like the video, give it a Thumbs Up and subscribe to my channel. I've finally surpassed 100 subscribers and am now looking to double that number as soon as possible.

Happy Monday!

Unhealthy Obsession

All sense of time evaporates.

I set myself a goal for an evening: just get this task done and call it a night. But either the task takes far less time than I had anticipated and I give myself a fresh goal, or the task encounters a snag and I won't stop until I've solved the issue. And sometimes, the task just takes longer than I had planned and I keep going until it's done.

I'm talking about editing my videos.

I'm grateful to DW, who gave me a free copy of Pinnacle Studio when I started creating videos to share on my YouTube channel. She works for the company that creates the software and she is entitled to a free download of each release.

The program is robust and I can do a lot with my video but it's also quirky, cumbersome, and downright glitchy. Sometimes, the seemingly simplest task takes the most about of time. And sometimes, the program will do something to a video clip that I can't explain or find the root problem. I'll work for hours to try and solve the issue—sometimes, to no avail—and I'll just get tired and accept the glitch for the sake of completing my project.

But that glitch will drive me nuts.

Take, for example, my video of Porto. For a second, one scene is upside-down. This clip was taken on DW's iPhone and for some reason was imported upside-down. When I viewed the source file, it appeared right-side up, but as soon as I dragged it into the timeline, the image was flipped.

I was able to isolate the clip and perform a 180-degree rotation, and that appeared fine in the timeline. But as soon as I compiled the video to export as an MP4 file, the clip was completely upside-down again.

I went back into the project and rotated it again, and compiled the video once more, and the clip was right-side up. Except for the first second.

I learned that in that segment, the cross-fade effect to transition from the previous clip to the upside-down clip flipped the image. I would have to remove the transition to solve the problem but in doing so, I'd have a hard break from one scene to the next.

I weighted the options and in the end, I decided that a second of a glitchy clip was better than a hard cut and start between different scenes. I hate that glitch but it's there, and has been seen more than a thousand times already.

Later, I experimented with a similar issue (it seems that almost all of the video clips that DW shot with her iPhone, while in Portugal, are upside-down) and discovered that if I flipped a video clip and then rendered it, on its own, to an MP4 video (from a MOV file), I could then import that MP4 clip into a timeline and it would appear right-side up.

When I was working on the latest video project, there was a scene that was crucial to the video but, unfortunately, it was captured on DW's iPhone. The scene was essential, as it captured me tasting two amazing port wines from a vineyard where we had stomped on grapes, in Portugal's Douro Valley.

I flipped the clip (say that quickly, three times!) and exported it to an MP4 file and then imported into this video, and it ran smoothly. But because the clip was almost five minutes long, in which I pause between words, linger with a mouthful of the fortified wine, or sit back and relax, I did a lot of cutting.

Watching the timeline playback, it looked great. I was happy.

Oh, and I should say that at this point, it was after midnight on a weeknight. DW had long earlier gone to bed.

But I had set myself the task of getting to the end of the video and, by gosh, I was going to finish.

As I watched the video render, frame by frame, I was happy with the video. In my personal opinion, it was my best video to date. The story was unfolding well and no issues seemed to present themselves that would make me want to go back and change anything.

Until I reached the scene where I'm drinking the port wine. It started out fine, with all the cuts, but as it approached the halfway point, the screen went grey and a giant circle with an arrow that looked like a Replay symbol appeared for about 10 seconds before the video resumed with me talking and nursing a glass of tawny.

I nearly screamed out loud but it was after 1 am.

I went back in the project, ran the timeline, and all seemed fine. I checked each clip segment and the properties showed nothing unusual. I chalked it up to a rendering glitch and tried again.

The issue happened again at the same spot.

I heard DW get up to use the washroom and then she called down to me. "Are you still up?"

It was nearly two in the morning. I had to get ready for work in a handful of hours. I shut down the computer, turned off all of the lights, and headed upstairs.

"I need a better program than Pinnacle," I told DW.

"You need to set boundaries," she replied. "You've become obsessed with your videos. It's unhealthy. You need rest."

"I would have been done hours ago if the program wasn't so glitchy. I need to look into a better editing tool."

"You had better finish this project first. If you move to another app, you'll have to start all over again. Now go to sleep."

I was a wreck the next day. It's a wonder that I got through all of my meetings, including a one-on-one with my boss.

It's true: my video editing has become an unhealthy obsession. It takes me tens of hours to put together 15 minutes of video. Once I start working on a project, I find it hard to tear myself away.

I need to set hard stops when I'm working on a video. No more than two or three hours at a time, and no work beyond 10 pm.

There's no one anxiously awaiting my next video. I've only just reached 100 subscribers (thank you to those of you who have supported my channel!). This was supposed to be a hobby but it takes more of my time than my writing ever has.

I meant to have the video ready to share today. But since Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, I've decided to slow down. Pace myself.

And until I find a replacement to Pinnacle, I'll work on my project until I fix all of the glitches. With any luck that'll happen in time for me to share the video on Monday.

Wish me good luck. And restful evenings.

Beer O'Clock: Almost Home

Last week, I placed my first online beer order of 2023 and I was shocked.

In 2020, after the pandemic first hit, it seemed like I was placing beer orders every two weeks, spending more than $150 each month and going through beer like it was going out of style.

My belly sure noticed the increase in consumption.

In 2021, I cut back on my beer drinking, making sure that my fridge was mostly empty before I'd place another order. I cut my consumption in half, ordering no more than once each month.

Last year, I cut back even more, so it was no surprise that more than two-and-a-half months had passed since my last online order. I was going to the LCBO, instead, and would only pick up two or four cans per visit, which would happen only once or twice each month.

I'd pick up enough beer to satisfy my Beer O'Clock reviews.

I did visit one of my favourite breweries, in January, to pick up a 12-pack of beer, but visits to taprooms are a rare occasion for me. And the beer that I picked up had already been reviewed on my blog, so I was just fulfilling an 'I like this beer and want to drink it' urge.

So, mid-March brought me my first online beer order of the year and I purchased two unfamiliar brews from a familiar and much-admired brewery. Today, I'm going to take a look at an obscure brew style that has piqued my curiosity.

Almost Home Sorrel Beer (4.6% ABV; 0 IBUs)
Dominion City Brewing Company
Ottawa ON

Appearance: a clear and effervescent reddish-pink, with a foamy-white head that settles quickly to a tight lace.

Nose: floral notes and tropical fruit, with a bit of spice (cinnamon?).

Palate: initially, I detected a bit of sourness and a spice that bit my tongue, similar to the acid from a pineapple that I get when I initially bite into one. But on successive sips, everything mellowed and blended into a light, crisp, fruity beverage with a kick of spice. There's also a bit of a tannic finish, like a mild orange pekoe tea, that hits the roof of my mouth at the back of the throat.

Overall impression: I'm not sure how I feel about this brew. The notes on the nose are pleasant but the sour flavour builds and I am thankful that the can is only 355ml and not a full pint. But I didn't dislike the beer, either. I have a healthy respect for it and welcome it to my repertoire of beer styles.

It's just not going to be a favourite of mine.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺

From the description of Almost Home on Dominion City's Web site, this beer "is inspired by the traditional flavours of Sorrel, a Caribbean drink made with hibiscus and spices." It was brewed in collaboration with Jaku Konbit, an Ottawa-based social organization that is led by our city's black community.

A portion of the proceeds from each can goes toward supporting Jaku Konbit, so I'm glad I picked up a 6-pack.

You can pick up Almost Home directly from Dominion City or by ordering online. A small delivery fee is worthwhile.

Cheers!

Best Before?

I've always wondered if there was an expiry date to seeds that are still within a shell, and I think I have my answer.

Last year, DW and I didn't go into our backyard as often as we usually do, and I think that it was in part due to shame. As some of you may have followed, in this blog, a section of our backyard fence came down during a wind storm in December of 2021, while DW and I were vacationing in Cuba.

It's a miracle that the rest of the fence wasn't felled in May, during the derecho that hammered Ottawa.

Because the fence fell in the winter, neither our neighbours, into whose backyard the fence fell, nor we were willing to do anything until the snow was gone. But then we got busy, and our neighbours didn't complain for some time. And then it was all but impossible to find people who wanted to work on such a small project, and eventually, in September, DW and I did the work ourselves.

Until the fence was fixed, we avoided the backyard because it reminded us of our ability to put things off. And because we avoided the backyard—I only went into it to mow the lawn or grill something on the barbecue—our bird feeder became another object of neglect.

Previously, I would constantly monitor the feeder, making sure our feathered friends didn't go without seeds. When we first set up the feeder, in 2020, we purchased a giant bag of sunflower seeds. Not wanting chipmunks or squirrels to break into our garage and chew through the bag, we emptied the seeds into a couple of large containers: one, a tin container that we used to fill with dry cat food but replaced with a smaller container when we redid our kitchen; the other, a large covered pail that I had used long ago to make wine.

These containers, together, would hold more than a year's supply of seeds.

Currently, we're on our second bag of seed, which we purchased in late 2021. I only filled the feeder during the winter months, when work on the fence was impossible. But when the snow was gone and the months passed before we fixed the fence, the birds went without seed and had to find it elsewhere (other neighbours also had feeders, so the birds were fine.

As soon as the fence was fixed, I washed out the empty feeder, let it dry, and then replenished it with the seeds that we had bought about a year earlier.

For weeks, birds didn't touch the seeds. DW and I left on our vacation, in Portugal, and when we returned, the level of seeds hadn't noticeably changed.

Had the birds decided to skip our backyard, we wondered. Had they found other backyards with better feeders?

As winter set in, I did notice the odd bird at the feeder, but they didn't seem to stay long. Over the course of the season, the level of seeds did diminish, but ever so slowly. At it's peak, before I stopped replenishing the seeds, the feeder would empty in less than a week.

What was wrong?

We think we found our answer a couple of weekends ago, when we went for a walk at Mud Lake, bringing my parents with us. My folks have a feeder in their backyard and take pleasure at watching the myriad birds visit.

As always, we bring a small bag of seed to feed the chickadees, nuthatches, and smaller woodpeckers like the downys and hairys. Often these birds are so bold that they'll fly right up to you before we get the bag open.

On this visit, we didn't get the instant swarm that we're used to. It took a few minutes for the first bird to land on DW's hand, while I was ready with my camera. The chickadee landed, picked up a seed, and then threw it before seizing another.

It threw that seed, too.

Finally, it grabbed one seed and made its way to the nearest tree branch, where it cracked open the shell and ate the inner seed.

Other birds landed. A nuthatch picked up a seed in its beak and immediately released it. I was able to capture the seed, in mid air, before it landed back on DW's glove. The nuthatch scrutinized every seed until it found one that it wanted, and off it went with its snack.

The same was happening in my mom's ungloved hand, as the birds picked only the best seeds.

Woodpeckers joined in, and one tossed every seed from my mom's hand before flying off without anything. DW emptied more seeds from the bag from her hand, and tried again. The birds returned and only took select seeds for food, discarding the others. One woodpecker even seemingly threw a seed toward my mom, as if to say, "What are you trying to pawn off on me? This is substandard, ma'am!"

Yes, it seems there is an expiry date on seeds. Back in our feeder, in the backyard, I had finally replenished an empty feeder the day before we ventured to Mud Lake. Birds have come, but I've noticed a lot of seeds on the ground, where the squirrels don't seem to be as picky.

We have about a third of the large pail left. I think I'll toss those seeds into the compost bin and grab a fresh bag from Costco.

I'll check for a best-before date, too.

A Dry Challenge

I really should have gone in the pool.

When I started the Great Barrier Reef in The Conqueror Virtual Challenges, on January 1st, I had intended to start swimming in our community pool. I hadn't been there since February, 2020, before everything shut down because of the pandemic.

I've kept in shape, over the years, by walking and hiking, by dusting off my spin bike, by cycling on the roads when the weather permitted, and by getting out in the water on my kayak, which I bought in early 2020 before the glut on such recreational crafts made acquiring one a challenge.

In my kayak, I could get on the water without actually getting in. And as much as I enjoy swimming, I didn't do much of it since the public pools closed. Sure, I've snorkeled a couple of times in Mexico and for a week in Cuba, but honestly, that doesn't take much effort: I basically float, periodically kicking my feet at a leisurely pace to propel myself forward, and using one arm to steer myself while the other arm hangs onto a video camera that's attached to a stick.

Not much exercise in that activity.

I did manage to swim for about 500 metres, one day in Portugal, when DW and I stayed at a luxury hotel along the beaches in Portimão, but I did so at such a slow pace that it could hardly be called swimming. I did laps in the hotel's outdoor pool while DW chatted with some Canadians who were cycling through the Algarve region.

So, on January 1st, I told myself that I would swim twice a week, covering between one and two kilometres each time. Not right at first: I would work up to it after my long absence from the pool. I'd get up early on Sundays and go after work, on Thursdays. If I felt like doing more, I'd do so.

Folks, I didn't go even once.

When my alarm went off on the first Sunday in January, I grunted, turned off my alarm, and went back to sleep. Not today, I told myself, mornings aren't my jive. I'll go after work on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Nope.

When Tuesday came, I had forgotten to reserve a spot in the lane swim, and they were full. Instead, I got on my spin bike and rode for an hour. When it came time to book a spot for Thursday, I told myself that the one or two kilometres really weren't going to add much to my goal of my virtual challenge, which had me virtually swimming 2,119 kms from Orchid Beach on Fraser Island (K'gari) to Saunders Reef, near Australia's northeastern-most point, not far from Papua New Guinea.

And it was cold in January, with a lot of snow. And besides, DW and I were going to be heading to Mexico in a couple of weeks, and I would swim there.

As I said, snorkeling is not swimming.

So I haven't dipped my toe in a swimming pool since late September, 2022, in Portugal. And none of my snorkeling counted toward my virtual challenge.

Last night, I completed the Great Barrier Reef challenge by walking and spinning, even though more than 99 percent of the route is in the ocean. The finish line was bittersweet.

Today, I start my next virtual challenge, which is a 766-km trek along India's Golden Triangle, which has me virtually start in Delhi, travel to Agra, over to Jaipur, and back up to Delhi. I'm curious to learn about this vast and interesting country.

(Side note: DW and I contemplated touring India after we had finished our contracts for teaching in South Korea, but we chose to visit Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia, and Thailand instead.)

For this challenge, I'm going to focus more on my cycling, working harder and longer on my spin bike and getting on my road bike as soon as the weather and road conditions permit it. I'm not just trying to complete this challenge: I'm also training for the upcoming CN Cycle for CHEO.

If you can, please go to my sponsor page and give what you can toward research into finding a cure for cancer in children.

I don't know when I'll get the energy and motivation to get into a pool again. The Great Barrier Reef challenge was a dry one and I expect the Golden Triangle challenge to be dry as well.

Unless it rains on May 7.

Turkeys Gone Bad

This weekend, the National Capital Commission (NCC) closed entry to the Mud Lake trail. It wasn't because the trail had become hazardous due to the rapid melting that we've had this week. It wasn't due to any fallen trees, either.

Even the wooden bridge, which is under construction and thus fenced off from the public had nothing to do with it.

No, the NCC closed off Mud Lake because of a bunch of turkeys. And I don't mean the goofballs who sometimes paint graffiti on rocks or the dopes who bring bread crumbs to feed to the ducks. I mean wild turkeys: those big birds.

Don't mess with these turkeys.

We've encountered the turkeys several times while hiking the trails and they don't seem to be too bothered by humans. One time, while DW and I were on the trail, we came across three turkeys—two males and a female—and they got fairly close to us, though they didn't seem aggressive.

But when another hiker came along the path, one of the turkeys seemed to block her way, causing the hiker to stop, not knowing whether to go off the path to get around the bird or to wait for it to move on. We were standing near a section of the trail where it broke into another path that led to a lookout on the lake, and the hiker made to go down that path.

The turkey, seemingly interested in the woman, started walking with purpose, toward her. That's when I stepped in. I moved on a diagonal, to let the woman move onto the secondary path but then got between her and the turkey.

In my hand, I was carrying my Nikon D7200 with a 70-300mm lens. Together, they make the camera a heavy object. I wasn't looking to harm the turkey but as a last resort, it would help me defend myself.

As soon as I was between the hiker and the turkey, the turkey turned to join his companions and the possible confrontation was avoided.

That was the only time I've seen such a bold turkey on the trails but I have heard of some worse cases of aggression at Mud Lake. And a friend of ours was practically chased by a turkey when she and her husband were visiting this popular walking trail.

The NCC plans to hire professionals to capture and relocate the birds, but in the meantime, the trail is closed to the public. I hope that they clear the trail soon, as DW and I love to take early-morning walks out there on Sundays.

And hopefully, that'll be the end to turkeys who have gone bad.

Back—Not Back

I'm not really back, but I'm back.

When I discovered, a couple of weeks back, that my Twitter account hadn't been deactivated as I had requested, back in November, I went through the motions of having it deactivated a second time. That was it, I said, I'm done. I closed the tab and continued on with my day.

But then I went in, a few hours later, just to see if I could still log on. Of course, I could. I even saw that some of my Twitter friends had left me notifications, wondering if I was back.

"No, I'm not back," was my reply.

I knew that by using the account, it wouldn't be deactivated. As far as the program was concerned, I was back. And I thought that if my account was still open, I might as well make use of it, and so I started posting announcements of my blog posts. I'd set up the tweet, post it, and then close the Twitter tab on my Web browser.

I wasn't really back, after all.

But some mornings, as I was preparing my tweet to announce a new blog post, I would see other tweets from friends with whom I hadn't been in contact since November, and I would miss them. I would click the Like button on their tweet. I would see that it was his or her birthday, and I would tweet them a greeting. If someone had reached out to me, in my absence, I would reply to them.

But I wasn't back. Not really.

When I saw a friend tweet a picture of the Amalfi Coast, from where he and his family was vacationing, I responded, saying that we would have to meet when he returned, as DW and I are planning to go to this Italian region later this year, and I wanted to pick his brain about his experience. He agreed, and we'll meet over a pint, hopefully in the near future.

Because our direct point of contact has been through Twitter (although, we are also connected through LinkedIn—another account that I almost never look at it, these days), I would have to stay connected to arrange a time to get together.

I'm not coming back to Twitter the way I used to. I find that I cannot scroll my timeline without seeing unwanted promoted tweets or to see the tweets that the people I follow have liked (most of the time, I'm not interested in those tweets or worse, that the content strikes up anxiety). I still plan to use my account to introduce the latest blog post and then get out of it.

I won't scroll. I won't share my thoughts or opinions as I did, ad nauseum, throughout the day (I rarely even do that on Mastodon). If a Twitter buddy reaches out to me, of course I'll reply. If I see a tweet from a friend that prompts me to respond, I'll respond.

But I won't be spending time on Twitter. I have a new social media home, and I'm happy there. I'll liken visits to Twitter as driving through an old neighbourhood to drop off an item (my Brown Knowser post). If I see a friend, I'll wave or say hi. But I don't live in this neighbourhood anymore.

I'm back but not back.

The Glass

I miss Edinburgh.

Before the pandemic hit, 2023 was going to be the year that I returned to this Scottish capital, and for the first time, I'd be accompanied by DW. It wouldn't be our first time in the UK together and it wouldn't be her first time in Scotland, but would be our first time there, together.

Because of the pandemic, a lot of our travel plans were postponed. Some may never be recreated as we had originally planned but all of them had been pushed out.

We were considering a return to Italy in 2024, but my parents have come to the realization that they've pushed of travelling for so long that they are starting to think that it's now or never. And so, we're planning to go with them to Italy this year; likely, in the fall.

Next year, DW and I will be heading to Costa Rica for a couple of weeks and I would like to go to Iceland. So the UK is being pushed out even further.

But I miss Scotland, and in particular, Edinburgh.

The last time I was in Edinburgh was in 2010, with my best friend, Stu. He was attending a botany conference and I was gathering information for my novel. Most days, we did our own thing but we did manage to spend quite a bit of time together.

One fond memory was heading to the Oxford Pub, made famous by Ian Rankin's Inspector Rebus novels, of which both Stu and I were fans. Stu captured this photo of me as we were enjoying pints of Belhaven's Best, a lovely bitter malt ale that I sought out at any pub that poured it.

A couple of years later, at a Robert Burns Day lunch at the now defunct Ottawa Scottish pub, Highlander, my father and I received Belhaven pint glasses to commemorate the day. It's one of my favourite beer glasses that I use to pour myself cream ales, stouts, and other fine brews.

And every time I drink out of this glass, I think of Edinburgh, wondering when I'm going to find myself there again.

Soon, I hope. Soon.

Happy Thursday!

Woodpeckers

Porto in 36 Hours

I could honestly retire here.

It's funny how after only spending 36 hours in Porto, Portugal, last September, could leave me feeling that I could live out the rest of my days in this historic old town. But there was something magical about it.

Give me a couple more years, when the arthritis in my right foot, knees, and hips really kick in, and then let's see if I still want to retire to this city of steep hills and many stairs.

But DW and I will certainly return to Porto. We feel as though we have some unfinished business and 36 hours was not nearly enough time to enjoy what the city offers.

For one thing, there's so much port wine that we haven't sampled.

This weekend, I finally finished my video of our experience in Porto, on September 17 and 18, 2022. We were jet-lagged and just getting our bearings, but we accomplished a lot. Not as much as we wanted to accomplish but plenty, given our fatigue.

I'm finding some challenges with my video-editing software and at times I was getting frustrated. For example, a couple of video clips somehow ended upside-down in their original files. I was able to rotate the footage in post-processing, but for an instant, as one of those clips started, the portion that was included in a cross-fade appeared upside-down. Try as I might, I couldn't fix that, so there's an instant where our view from our apartment is wonky.

I also need to work on my walking and recording skill, to make smoother motion.

Anyway, if you have 15 minutes (coffee break?), give my video a view.

What did you think? If you liked it, please give it a Thumbs Up and subscribe to my channel so that you never miss a video. It would be nice if I finally reached more than 100 subscribers by the end of the week. (Yes, I'm really small potatoes in the realm of YouTube but we've all got to start somewhere.)

I'm now working on the next video, which will show our day in wine country, the Douro Valley. Stay tuned.

Tough Canadians?

March seems to be a bad time for our furnaces.

Image: Google

In that month, back in 2010, on a frigid night where the outside temperature was -20°C, not including the windchill factor, we were awakened by the piercing chirp of our carbon monoxide alarm. Apparently, our 10-year-old furnace had developed a crack in the heat-exchange unit and was leaking gas.

I shut off the gas, vented the house for about an hour, and in the morning I called a service to inspect and assess the damage of our non-functional furnace. I learned that the furnace, which had been installed when the house was built, only had a 10-year warranty, which had expired about three months ago. The cost of repair on an aging furnace was not worth it, so we replaced the whole furnace.

Our new furnace came with another 10-year warranty, except for the heat-exchange unit, which had a lifetime warranty. In about 40 hours after we were rudely awakened by our CO monitor, we had a new furnace and were toasty as can be. The night before the replacement furnace arrived, DW, the kids, and I huddled together in our family room, warmed by our gas fireplace.

There was no alarm this time. We simply started feeling colder.

I know that the furnace was working on Monday morning because I remember hearing it when I was in the basement, taking care of our cats' litter boxes. For about a week, the furnace had begun sounding louder. When I investigated the noise, it seemed like it was just one of the vents that flowed out, directly above the unit, vibrating. In fact, holding the vent with my hands would cause the vibration to stop. But still, as I was cleaning the litter boxes, I told myself that we should get the furnace serviced, to make sure that it was fine.

It wasn't fine. Apparently, some time later, it stopped working.

We ordered a service call, and when the technician opened the furnace, he discovered that condensation, from the exhaust pipe, was leaking into the unit. It had fried the circuit board and had begun rusting other wires and components. It was going to cost $1300 just to replace the circuit board, and that wasn't going to solve the root problem as to what was causing the leak or why that issue was causing the vibrations.

We were probably looking at another couple of grand to fix everything, the technician estimated. He added that the average lifespan of our type of furnace was 15 years, so investing that much to repair a unit that might only have a couple more years left in it might not make sense.

I had to agree.

The next day, a salesperson came out to give us options for a new furnace. He showed us his least-expensive unit, that would do the job but wasn't as good as what we already had. He showed us his top-of-the-line model, which was WiFi-enabled and had so many features that my head was spinning.

And then he did what I knew he was going to do and should have just led with: a furnace that was comparable to what we had but included a new thermostat and was insulated, which would make the unit even quieter than our old unit had been before it started rattling. This unit had a 10-year warrantee for parts and labour, a lifetime warranty on the heat exchanger, and if the heat exchanger were to somehow go in the first seven years, they would replace the entire furnace.

We liked that deal but we wanted to shop around. Though I liked the salesperson and we had dealt with this company when we replaced our hot water tank with a tankless heating system, and even though the salesperson offered me an $800 loyalty discount, I wanted to see what else was out there.

The next person who came to our house, 48 hours into being without a furnace, inspected our unit and confirmed that it would be more expensive to repair than would make sense, for its age. He was also a sales rep, and had quite a few makes and models to show us.

The unit that best-matched the furnace that we already had and was comparable to the furnace that we had been shown by the other sales rep was about $500 less than our first quote. While this model didn't come with a new thermostat nor was it insulated, those weren't deal-breakers. Five-hundred bucks is five-hundred bucks.

My first loyalty, however, was to the company that we had dealt with, before. A couple of years ago, when we had them come for a maintenance call on out hot-water heater, they found an issue that was no longer covered under the manufacturer's warranty. But because our model of heater had a recall on a part (which was not giving us any issue), the service guy got the manufacturer to replace our unit, and we received an even better system, free of charge (except for the service call).

They won my loyalty that day.

The $500 price gap would actually be only a $300 difference because we had already paid $200 to the first folks for the original visit, on Monday. In the original price negotiation, that $200 was also going to be incorporated in the price of the furnace replacement, on top of the $800 loyalty discount.

I called the first salesguy and told him that if he could find his way to bring the price down by another $300, he would have the sale. He said that he'd have to check with his manager but that the ask wasn't unreasonable: however, we probably wouldn't be able to get the furnace until Friday.

Five minutes later, he called back, said that he would match the competitor's price, and that he was able to secure installers for the next day (Thursday).

Loyalty cemented.

By the time that the installers arrived, DW and I had had no working furnace in more than 72 hours. But we're tough Canadians. We dressed in layers. We shared time with the one space heater that we have, so that we could warm up our respective home offices during the day. Outside of work, we hung out in the same rooms so that we could benefit from the heater, and the cats also snuggled up to us for mutual added warmth.

We were fine.

As the installers checked on our existing, usable ducts, they detected a fault that was the root of the leak, and it dated all the way back to the construction of our house. The exhaust pipe, which led outside, was sloped the wrong way. Instead of condensation heading out of the home, it would run back, ever so slightly, to the furnace. Surprisingly, the team that installed our second furnace didn't catch the problem.

This technician said he's been doing this job for more than 26 years and he occasionally comes across this problem. He said it would be easy to fix and set out to work—all part of the installation so no additional cost!

A few hours later, the work was done. Both technicians did a great job, and DW and I don't have to tough out the cold (the house dropped to 10°C at night and warmed up to 12°C in rooms that didn't have the benefit of our space heater).

The cats seem happy, too (both technicians loved cats and weren't bothered by our curious creatures).

Yes, we're tough Canadians. To a point. I don't know if we would have been in good spirits if we would have had to wait until Friday for the new furnace, and would have been miserable by today, which was a potential estimate for replacement by the competing salesperson.

But for 72 hours, we're tough.

Can't Wait to Get on the Road Again

With this winter being the snowiest in many years, I can't wait to see the white stuff off my lawn and off the streets.

And while I've been using my spin bike fairly regularly, it can never replace my road bike. I long to get back out there—I've even started planning new routes to conquer and further distances to travel.

I have a lot of ambition.

I've also signed up, once again, for the CN Cycle For CHEO fundraiser, on Sunday, May 7. This event helps raise money for children's cancer research. Cancer sucks, regardless of age, but cancer in kids just tugs at my heart. Once again, I'll be riding the 70K challenge.

Last year, because I was on my spin bike practically every day, since January, I had no problem pedaling for 70 kms. I stopped at the 25K and 50K checkpoints to stretch and refuel my body, and I kept a casual pace, finishing the ride in under three hours.

This year, I've invited DW and a couple of our friends to join me, so it won't be such a lonely ride (though, in truth, I like to ride solo most of the time). I'm hopeful that we can maintain the same pace but I'm not going to worry about how long it takes us.

Because this event is a fundraiser, I've set a modest goal to raise $250 for CHEO. I've already contributed $50 to that goal with my entry fee. Last year, I set the same goal and actually raised $300. Can we beat that amount?

By we, I really mean you. Without your support, the goal will never be reached, let alone surpassed. Please go to my donation page and give what you can. Any amount helps.

Thanks, and wish me luck. I can't wait to get back out on the road, and this ride might be my first of the season.

It just might be my most important ride.

Feeling Mello's

I tried to save money, in my late 20s and into my early 30s, but it wasn't easy.

Even though I worked in a bank, was good at helping my customers manage their money and even making it grow, I was lousy at managing my own. I wanted to be social and hang out with my friends, and we would often go to our favourite bars and dance clubs in Ottawa.

I was also taking a sommelier program, at Algonquin College, to further my knowledge and love of wine.

From 1993 to 1995, I worked most days at the CIBC in the City View Plaza, at 1518 Merivale Road, in Ottawa. The bank is long gone, now, but my memories of that branch—along with those of the branch in the Merivale Mall, where I worked from 1990 to 1997—are still strong.

It didn't help that at the time that I worked in City View Plaza, there was an LCBO store at the opposite end of the strip mall, and that to get home I had to walk past it. I knew a couple of the employees, who were always keen to show me some of the latest Vintages releases that were added to the shelves, and it would have simply been rude to not pick up a bottle or two.

From Monday to Friday, I brought at least one bottle of wine home each day.

To save money, I would try to bring a homemade lunch into the branch, but several of the bank staff were friends of mine, who also worked Friday nights and weekend shifts with me at the Merivale Mall, and most days, they ate at the coffee shop that was in between the bank and the Independent grocery store. Not wanting to miss a chance to socialize outside of work, I would join them a couple of times a week.

We always sat at the booth at the back of Mello's Coffee Shop. I usually ate with Phil and Pam, and sometimes Karl or Noreen would join us as a fourth person. There were always enough staff members to manage the teller's wickets in our one-hour absence.

As the shop existed in August of 2021 (Google Maps street view).

I usually ordered the same lunch: the Mello's Special Club Sandwich, which was your classic double-decker sammy of turkey, bacon, lettuce, and tomato, but had a third layer of egg salad. I ordered the brown bread, a side of fries (which were always perfectly crispy), and washed it all down with coffee. On Fridays, if I dined there, I would order their fish and chips.

And coffee. There was something about diner coffee that I couldn't get enough of.

Today, the bank is gone. So is the LCBO and most of the shops that were situated in between. The Ministry of Transportation office has moved further south on Merivale Road, to a larger location near Slack Road. Even the grocery store, which occupied the bulk of the middle part of the plaza, is gone, replaced with a Giant Tiger.

But Mello's is still there. I'm sure that the staff from the 90s is gone but I wonder if the menu is the same. Last week, I had a sudden craving for a club sandwich, but not just your classic double-decker: I wanted the Mello's club.

Maybe, for nostalgia sake, I'll go back. My fellow bankers have scattered to the winds—retired or moved on to other careers—and my dear friend, Phil, is sadly no more. But maybe DW will join me for a trip down memory lane.

Happy Thursday!

Buried Under

Twitter Failure

On Friday, November 25, 2022, I sent my last message on Twitter:

As soon as I clicked Send, I went into my profile and deactivated my account. There was no waiting until Wednesday. I also removed the app from my smartphone and closed the tabs that were always open on my Web browsers.

In retrospect, I should have waited a couple more days to close my account because I had written a blog post, that Monday, dedicated to my followers, with information about how they could find me, on Mastodon, should they also make the change away from Musk's social media platform.

I should have given them the link to the blog post, after it was published, before shutting the tap off from Twitter.

A few weeks ago, a friend from Twitter, Jill, who also has an account on Mastodon, reached out and asked me if I had received a direct message that she had sent me on Twitter. I told her that I had deactivated my account more than a couple of months, previously, but that she could contact me with a text if she needed to send me a private message (she became more than a Twitter acquaintance in the time we had known each other and had my other contact details).

But something at the back of my brain raised a flag. How could Jill have sent me a DM if my account has been deactivated? I wondered if my account had actually been closed down or if it was still active.

Of course, at the time, I didn't have the inclination to investigate, so I put the thought out of my head.

Last week, I saw that someone else, who I had followed on Twitter, was now also on Mastodon. I followed him right away and started looking at his timeline to see what I had missed over the past few months. I saw that he had some links to posts from his Twitter account, so out of curiosity, I clicked one of the links.

I saw what he had tweeted but Twitter was also asking me to either log on to my existing account or open one. For fun, I tried logging on to my old account and to my surprise, the account was still open.

I found Jill's DM and one from another follower, plus 15 other unread notifications, including some that told me I had new followers. I had actually gained followers in my three-month's absence.

I tweeted the following message:

Apparently, since Musk has taken over Twitter, he can't even close a deactivated account anymore. I went into my profile settings and, once again, went through the steps to deactivate my account. I received a message that the account would remain accessible, should I change my mind or if I've deactivated it in error.

Time will tell.

In the meantime, I'm lurking, looking for the peeps I've missed, scrolling past the negative posts that have been promoted or shared. I saw an old Twitter friend post a selfie and I clicked the Like button. I even shared my blog post of the day, just to make some use of my account.

To be clear, I'm not returning to Twitter.

In just five minutes on my Twitter timeline, I felt anxious. I had to close the tab on my browser and return to my Mastodon feed, which is a source of positivity and joy. For all the people I saw and whose posts made me smile, there was at least one post that had me shaking my head.

I can't understand why my old peeps are staying on Twitter. And though many have opened an account on Mastodon, there are those who don't seem to use it. I see them in my follow list but I don't see any activity.

I miss you, folks, and wish you would share your joy where I can see you.

When I left Twitter, I thought that there was no looking back. If my account remains open, despite my attempts to deactivate it, twice, it may be a tool that I look at only once and awhile, much like how I use my Facebook account, which gets my attention once every month or three.

Maybe.

This Is 58

Last year, on my birthday, I thought I would set up my camera gear on a tripod, place my softbox on a stand, next to it, and take a self portrait to mark my 57th year. To see how well or how poorly I have aged.

I made the decision that for as long as I'm able, I'll do the same thing on every birthday, going forward.

If I was still running my blog, I'd share the photo on the very next day or, if my birthday fell on a Friday or over a weekend, the first Monday that followed.

So this is it. This is 58.

How will the coming year play out? Stay tuned...

Trouble

I heard the door to the linen closet open. It wasn't a turning of the knob but the contact of metal on metal as the latch scraped across the strike plate and an almost imperceptible squeak of the hinges.

I was in my bedroom, getting dressed, and with my own door slightly ajar, I could see a shadow that told me the linen closet door was open. With that door fully open, I cannot step out of my room.

I thought it might have been Kid 1, who has been home since last Saturday while on her school's reading week. I had guessed that she was retrieving a towel so that she could have a shower.

But when the door remained wide open, I had my doubts. Kid 1 would not have left the linen closet door wide open, purposely blocking my own bedroom door. And as I thought about why the door was open for so long, I heard another sound that gave me a strong clue as to what was going on.

The sound of towels falling on the floor.

I peered around the door and saw Finn, our orange tabby, on the floor, sniffing at the newly fallen towels. He looked at me and gave a soft meow, as though he was saying, "Hey, don't look at me. I didn't do this."

When I came around the door and into the hall, I saw the culprit. It was Finn's sister, Cece.

Yes, our closet is a mess. Don't judge us.

She had done this thing before, so I should have suspected her sooner. Unless the closet door is firmly shut with the latch in place, Cece will get her paw under the door and pull. She has a love for towels, likely because she and her siblings had a cozy towel in the box that was prepared for when her mother was ready to give birth. When the kittens weren't feeding from their mom, we noticed them nuzzled against the sides of the box, that was lined with a towel.

Cece had hopped into the linen closet and pushed away the top towels, to make enough room for her.

When we were staring at each other, I could hear her purring, content as can be. Her eyes looked at me, as if she were saying, "Can you close the door? I'd like a bit of privacy."

Trouble.

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: Hazy Pale Ale

No, I'm not starting a Dry March.

For those of you who participated in Dry January and, come the third month of the year, have continued to stave off alcohol consumption, I tip my hat to you. You are doing wonderfully and should keep up the good work with my full support behind you.

I didn't abstain from alcohol in January or February because I was at an all-inclusive resort on the Mexican Riviera for the end of the first month and beginning of the second, and while the drinks are somewhat watered down, there was no resisting the sweet and refreshing cocktails.

With the start of March, I haven't given any thought to spending the month without an alcoholic beverage—my birthday is this weekend, after all, and I will likely raise a glass to my continued good health—but I have started the month with a brew that has no booze.

Last weekend, when I was in my neighbourhood LCBO, purchasing an assortment of beer for my father, who was celebrating his birthday, I spied a colourful can across the aisle from the stacks of Ontario craft beer, and my eyes told me that the beer was from one of my favourite breweries, Collective Arts, in Hamilton (again, another Southern Ontario brewery). Looking at the other cans and bottles around it, I realized that this colourful can was in the non-alcoholic beer section, and further reading the label, I discovered that this Collective Arts offering was also alcohol-free.

I picked up a couple of cans, thinking, why the hell not? I'm glad I added them to my shopping basket.

Let's take a closer look at the brew that has started my birthday month.

Hazy Pale Ale (Non-Alcoholic, 0.4% ABV)
Collective Arts Brewing
Hamilton ON

Appearance: true to its name, it pours a hazy, pale straw with a foamy, white head that leaves a thin cap and changes to a tight lace. Effervescent bubbles cling to the glass for the most part of the ale going down in the glass as I drank it.

Nose: strong citrus notes, mostly lemon, but they're tempered with undertones of pineapple.

Palate: lemongrass and more citrus, a touch of lychee and a light, green tea, with well-balanced hops. It's not as watery as many non-alcoholic ales are but there is a paleness that comes through, briefly, in the finish. Overall, it's a very flavourful brew and is hard to distinguish as alcohol-free.

Overall impression: I could drink this ale all day (literally, as it wouldn't impair me). Collective Arts has brewed this beer as a traditional New England-style pale ale, using a unique yeast that, in their words, "brews a very low alcohol version of our classic hoppy beer." There are both Citra and Mosaic hops that are used in the making of this ale, which lends to the citrussy and tropical flavours. It's a great brew and one of the best non-alcoholic ales I've ever had.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺🍺

There are precious few brews by Collective Arts that I haven't loved, and I would easily stock up on this offering for those days when I want a refreshing drink but don't want any booze. Give this Hazy Pale Ale a try.

Cheers!

Seeing Light

DW and I met with our financial advisor, recently, to catch up and re-evaluate our investments, and the conversation turned to retirement.

"Have you given it any thoughts?" she asked.

"I think about it almost every day," I replied. On our recent trip to Mexico, DW and I met two lovely couples: one, from Montreal; the other, from the east end of Ottawa. Both couples had recently retired, and they weren't much older than ourselves.

"When would you like to retire?" was a question that our financial advisor and our new-found friends had all asked us.

"If possible," I said, "I'd like to leave my job in the next three to five years. The earlier, the better."

Our advisor crunched some numbers and then showed us a graph on her computer screen. "Conservatively, three years would be a little tight," she said. "Four years would be doable but five years would be best."

Five years.

Mind you, I don't plan to sit still, in retirement, nor will DW and I be spending all of our saved-up cash on constant travel. We would continue to take one big trip each year but I would also divert a lot of my time to writing fiction. I would also like to be more active with my photography, perhaps working as a portrait photographer and selling some of my artsy photos.

Enough work to keep me from being bored and to earn a bit of cash on the side.

The end of the tunnel has not yet been reached but at least we can make out some light ahead. DW says she would work a year or two after I retire, so our days might be similar to how they are now, where we both work from home, in separate rooms: only, I'll be doing work that I want to do, taking breaks or heading out to shoot photos whenever I want.

I'm so glad our advisor didn't laugh in our faces when we set our retirement goal. Instead, she sent us links to what our upcoming steps should be and what to research ahead of the next big milestone in our lives.

We were looking for the light and she pointed it out to us. Day by day, that light will grow brighter.