Boo-Who?

For a few years, now, I've lost all interest in Hallowe'en. I haven't carved a pumpkin or decorated the house. I leave all of that up to DW, while on the actual evening I lock myself away in our bedroom and binge on television shows, waiting for the kids to pass through our cul-de-sac and for things to die down.

I'm the Grinch of All Hallows' Eve.

A couple of years ago, DW made me find a costume to go to a party at a friend's house. While I did want to see our friends, I didn't want to dress up. I was considering putting a toy jet airplane in my pocket and, when someone questioned why I wasn't wearing a costume, would produce the plane and say, "I'm an aircraft carrier."

(Thanks to our friend, Jody, for giving me that suggestion.)

DW wouldn't have it. Instead, I borrowed a mask of a creepy guy wearing an spiked, ghoulish pilot's helmet from the WWI era, donning a leather jacket and silk scarf, and calling it a day.

It freaked out our friends, so I call it a success.

This year, I told DW that I didn't want to go to our friend's party. Though I would have liked to see friends, I didn't want to have to wear a costume to do so. I had already dressed as a pirate for a themed birthday party, this summer, and I had decided that was the last time I was dressing up as someone other than myself.

This party had an added theme, whereby everyone had to dress up as a Saturday morning kids' show character, and I really wasn't interested. I told DW, who dressed as Daphne from Scooby-Doo, to give my regards, and I stayed home.

In my old age, am I becoming even more curmudgeonly? I've already lost interest in Christmas, apart from being with family and loved ones, and Easter doesn't hold anything for me, now that one kid lives in another city and the other is in her 20s.

I'm not interested in cramming into a bar full of drunk revelers on St. Patrick's Day and I'm perfectly happy to be out of town, eating Italian food, on Thanksgiving.

So tonight, as the doorbell rings and kids come looking for candy, I'll be happy to find solitude for a couple of hours. Is that bad?

What about you? Do you still celebrate Hallowe'en? Are there any holidays and traditions that you've given up?

Leave a comment.

No Justice

I made my way to the underground car park, hoping that I wasn't going to get caught in traffic again, but as I approached city hall, I saw that the crowd had moved on from this part of Elgin Street.

I wouldn't be late in picking up DW again.

I saw what appeared to be a family—a man about my age, a woman, and a teenaged boy—looking lost as they waited for the light to change. The woman was carrying a sign, calling for an end to the slaughter and for peace. The youngster was holding a Palestinian flag.

"Are you looking for the march?" I asked.

The man nodded a yes.

"Stay on this side of the street and go all the way to the top," I said, pointing up Elgin. They're already turning right, onto Wellington, past the Chateau Laurier. See those police lights?"

The man nodded again. I hoped that I was understood. I wasn't sure if the family spoke English.

"That's the back of the march. As you get closer, you'll hear the chants. Good luck."

"Thank you," he said.

"I hope your people find peace." My use of your people felt awkward but I didn't know what else to say. I meant the Palestinians in Gaza, who were caught up in the violence between Hamas and the Israeli government.

The light changed and we walked our separate ways. I had just walked past the protesters, who came up Elgin Street and were passing the National War Memorial. I had been photographing the Senate building, formerly Union Station, when I heard the horns blowing and the chanting: "No justice, no peace."

I admit that I know very little about the conflict in this part of the Middle East, but since the horrific terrorist attack by Hamas, a couple of weeks ago, I've been looking more closely. And the more I learn, the more sympathy I feel for the Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank.

From what I've learned, it seems like the citizens of these areas are under tight Israeli control—even in their own territories—while Hamas uses them as human shields while it carries out its attacks. The Israeli military is blindly attacking the area, seemingly without any regard for the innocent people who have no where else to go.

And each side can't help but feel hatred to the other.

I agree that Hamas is a terrorist organization that must be dealt with harshly, but I don't think that gives Benjamin Netanyahu the right to indiscriminately destroy neighbourhoods and hospitals.

Didn't his mother teach him that two wrongs don't make a right?

And shame on all governments who unreservedly give support behind Netanyahu without condemning the violence that has been shown to the innocent Palestinians in Gaza.

So I have no qualms about supporting the people who joined in on the march on Friday night and any marches that follow until the killing stops and there is a call for peace. And Netanyahu must be called upon to answer for his disregard for innocent lives that have been taken in this conflict.

Justice must be served on both sides. Until then, there can be no peace.

Bridge Over the Rideau

Autumn is my favourite season and I tend to get out to capture the changing colours, but this year I have spent most of this season indoors.

I think I'm becoming a hermit.

I still hope that I can find more time to go outdoors and enjoy the crisp air, but this past Sunday, I got out to take in what I could, despite wind and rain.

As I explained in Tuesday's post, I made a quick stop near the Vimy Memorial Bridge, hoping to get colourful leaves surrounding this three-arched bridge. Unfortunately, the leaves had left a lot of the trees and the colour was somewhat subdued. Those leaves on many trees were also still showing green, but on a grey day such as this, the colours didn't pop.

The dam and locks at the Long Island Lockstation have also been set to hold water back (I believe that all the locks are closed tight, all the way to Big Rideau Lake), which has lowered the water levels, marking the end of kayaking season on the Rideau Lakes system.

Fall has almost run its course over most trees in the Ottawa area. Winter is not far away.

Happy Friday!

Blind Shot

We were heading north, on West Street, between the World Trade Center and the Holland Tunnel. We were in my 1985 Pontiac Sunbird, making our way home after a long weekend in New York City. It was a beautiful, sunny spring day, with not a cloud in the sky: perfect for a last look at the city that never sleeps.

Through the sunroof, the twin towers loomed large. I looked up and wanted to capture an image with my camera, but I was behind the wheel.

I was also a young and whimsical 24 year old.

DW—before she and I were married—was sitting in the seat next to me. In the back seat was my best friend, Stuart, and his girlfriend at the time. Stu was meeting DW for the first time, as she and I had only been dating for about a month. I knew Stu's girlfriend, though she made it clear that she wished she didn't know me (that's another story, which I don't care to share).

My camera was in the trunk area of the car but because it was a hatchback, it was easy for Stu to reach. And when I asked him to hand it to me, he was only too obliging (much to his girlfriend's chagrin).

My camera, a Minolta X-700, did not have auto-focusing capabilities, so I handed the camera to DW and told her to do two things: make sure that the focus ring was set to infinity and set the aperture to f/16. I always kept my camera in aperture-priority mode, so I knew that on this bright day, the shutter speed would be able to handle this setting.

While DW checked the camera, I rolled down my window (it was a crank). With everything ready, she passed me the camera, I stuck it out the window, pointed skyward, and pressed the shutter release. The whole time, I had one hand on the wheel and my eyes firmly locked on the traffic ahead.

A couple of minutes later, before we turned off West Street toward the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel, I stuck my camera out the window one last time, pointing the camera behind me.

With the shots taken, I gave the camera back to Stu, who returned it to its case in the trunk. I wouldn't see the photos until I returned home and sent the 35mm film to the lab for processing.

I avoid using my camera while I drive. I'm no longer old nor quite as whimsical as I used to be. It's still distracted driving.

Be safe out there, folks. Happy Thursday!

Mill on the Rideau

Drive-By Shooting

One thing I really miss about the old Twitter—back when it was actually a good social-media site—was that I was pretty up-to-date about the news around me. In particular, local news that was unfolding before the mainstream media was able to report on it.

So far, with Mastodon and Threads, I don't seem to be as informed about my community as I used to be. It's a shame, because had I been as connected, I wouldn't have attempted to venture downtown.

I had dropped DW off at the gym, who had a yoga class to attend. Since she's been out of work, she's immersed herself in fitness, getting a membership at the local Movati. She goes at least once each day; sometimes, two times or more.

I wanted to capture images of fall leaves. Even though it was a rainy day, I wanted to get some fresh air after being sick for more than a week. And the autumn colours were not going to remain for much longer.

I had more than an hour and a half, from dropping DW at the doors to the athletic centre, to capture some images and be back to pick her up again. I had more than enough time.

I thought of driving to the Vimy Memorial Bridge, about five minutes away. Capturing the leaves on the trees near this triple-arched bridge would make for a nice photo shoot.

But when I got to a good vantage of the bridge, I saw that most of the leaves on the trees had already fallen, and that those that remained weren't as vibrant as I was hoping for. I snapped a couple of shots before returning to the car.

(I'll share those photos on Friday.)

I remembered seeing some photos on Instagram, recently, that showed the trees beneath Parliament Hill in bright orange and yellow, and thought it might be good to get shots at the Rideau locks, where the canal cuts between Parliament Hill and the Chateau Laurier. I still had more than an hour to get downtown, park near the National Gallery, run to the locks, take my shot, and get back to Barrhaven in time to meet DW.

It's a fairly straight path from Vimy Memorial Bridge to the ByWard Market, when you think of it. Head north on Prince of Wales Drive to Hog's Back, and then follow Colonel By Drive all the way until you hit Sussex Drive. The drive should only take about 20 minutes to complete.

I didn't realize I was in trouble until I was rounding the bend at the University of Ottawa, when I could see brake lights further ahead, near the Department of Defense building. But of course, at that point, there are no streets upon which I could exit. I suppose I could have made a U-turn, but the cars did seem to be moving forward, albeit slowly.

Stop and go, but steady.

I watched the clock and told myself that I would be cutting it fine, but the shots would still be doable. As long as we kept this pace and as long as traffic wasn't backed up on Sussex.

By the time I reached the Shaw Centre, I could see what was going on and it didn't look good. Lots of Palestinian flags waving and police regulating traffic at Rideau and Sussex. There was a demonstration moving along Rideau Street.

There was no way that I was going to get through in time.

I didn't feel bad that this demonstration was holding me up. I agreed with the calls against the violence that was being inflicted upon innocent people in Gaza after the brutal attack against Israeli civilians by Hamas. While the Israeli government has a right to defend its citizens and go after a terrorist organization, it does not have the right to punish the innocent people on the other side of the border.

I saw three women, wearing black-and-white checkered head scarves and carrying Palestinian flags, jump out of a car behind me and start running toward the march. I caught the eye of one of them and waved with one hand while holding a thumbs up with the other, and she smiled before turning away.

I needed an exit strategy. When I reached Daly Avenue, I turned right and broke free of the congestion. But I made the mistake of turning right, again, onto Waller, which left me with little option but to turn onto Mackenzie Street, where construction led to more tie-ups.

I'd be lucky to get back to Movati at the appointed time.

As soon as I reached Elgin, I turned left and found that while it, too, was busy, it was moving steadily, with stops only caused by traffic lights. It wouldn't take me long to reach the Queen Elizabeth Drive side of the Rideau Canal and head southward, back to Prince of Wales.

I was disappointed that I didn't know about the demonstration. I saw nothing in my social media feeds. I'm sure the old Twitter and my connections on that site would have given me a heads up.

I really felt that my time had been wasted, that I drove all this way, only to come back empty-handed as far as photographs was concerned. No autumn leaves: not even a shot of reflections on the rainy streets.

But as I approached a red light, I could see the rain-soaked street of Elgin and the deep-red brick of The Waverley restaurant, and a glint of inspiration hit me. My camera was on the seat next to me, and I quickly grabbed it as I hit the switch to lower my window.

I didn't have a lot of time but I stuck the camera out the window as the car nearly came to a stop. I didn't look at my camera at all, didn't see how I was aiming the lens. I just trusted that the last settings I had were good enough.

I took three quick shots, threw the camera onto the passenger seat, rolled up my window, and started rolling faster, as the light had changed to green and the cars ahead of me started moving.

As soon as I reached the canal, it was smooth sailing to Barrhaven. DW called me almost five minutes beyond our meeting time and I informed her that I was two minutes away. She didn't have to wait long.

I didn't see the photos until after we got home. I also convinced DW to let me drive to Manotick, to see if there were any fall colours around Watson's Mill. I'll share those photos, tomorrow.

One shot from Elgin Street turned out not too badly, considering I didn't look at the camera and aimed blindly while most of my attention was focused on the road ahead. It wasn't as dramatic as the shot I took, in 1989, of New York City, while driving along a freeway, but the mood in the shot is pretty good and captures the rain of the day.

(I'll see about sharing the NYC photo for Throwback Thursday.)

It seems my drive downtown wasn't a total waste. I learned about a protest and shared my support, although in the most minimal of ways. And I captured an autumn shower on an old street.

Not a waste at all.

Catfish

Forget the fact that I'm married: what would a beautiful, young woman want with an old guy like me?

Every so often, on Instagram, I'll get a direct message from a woman that I don't know, who starts off with an innocent "Hi." Ninety-nine percent of the time, I just block those people. I'm not interested in engaging someone I don't know.

For the other one percent of these unsolicited posts, I'll return the message with an equal "Hi." Sometimes, that response will be met with a photo of the person (or of the suspected person) in a bikini or evening dress, with a "Do you wanna chat?" follow up.

I block 100 percent of those messages. First of all, like I said, I'm married. Also, I suspect that the person on the other end of that account is a catfish, looking to get something from me.

I've always wondered what that person thinks that they can get from me. I wonder how easy it can be for someone to be conned into giving up money or compromising information.

The photo that started it all.

The message that I recently received came in the form of a comment to a photo that I posted on my Instagram account, shortly after I returned from the Thanksgiving weekend in Toronto. The comment was a question and seemed harmless enough.

"Are you a photographer in Toronto?"

"I live in Ottawa," was my simple answer.

It's no secret. Anybody who spends any time looking me up will discover that I live in Ottawa, I'm married, I have cats, and I can be found on Threads, Mastodon, LinkedIn, on YouTube, and of course, my blog.

This person—let's call them Carolyn—then sent me a direct message, encouraging me to follow them on Instagram. I looked at the photos on the account and saw a youngish Asian woman, well-dressed, posing in what looked to be fancy restaurants or in expensive cars, showing off jewelry, expensive watches, and eating gourmet food.

Like with so many of these unsolicited mystery people, I was tempted to block the account, but I got a message that read, "I like your photographs."

Harmless.

I don't know why but I decided to follow Carolyn, instead. If it was a catfish that was reaching out to me, I wanted to see what this person wanted from me. I was curious.

Carolyn told me that she was 37 years old and living in Pennsylvania. She is an importer/exporter. She's of South Korean descent but was raised by her grandmother in Hong Kong, while her parents still live in Korea. She immigrated to the United States just over a year ago.

I told her what anyone can find out by reading my blog, that I'm 58 and a writer.

Carolyn said that she wanted to visit Ottawa some day, and I told her that if she did, to reach out to me.

For a couple of days, she'd send me a simple greeting and a photo of her, always immaculately dressed, as though she was about to head out on the town. In return, I've sent a couple of selfies of my goofy, smiling face.

She wanted to be friends.

"Sure," I said, still wondering what it was that she was after. What does a beautiful young woman, who seemed to be living a glamourous life, want with a crusty old married guy?

She asked me, one day, if I had ever invested in crypto contracts. Ah, I thought, here we go. "No," I said, "but financially, I'm good." That was all I wanted to say on the matter.

She went on to tell me that her aunt had introduced her to crypto contracts and she had made enough money to enjoy the finer things in life. If I was interested, she could send me information.

"I'm good, but thanks anyway," I said. Of course, I was familiar with cryptocurrency but I hadn't heard of crypto contracts before, so I looked them up. And for someone who isn't financially literate beyond mutual funds, GICs, stocks, and other traditional forms of investment, crypto contracts had me confused.

If something like this can confuse me, and if it's tied to cryptocurrency, I'm not interested. I've always been a moderate to low-risk investor, and what I have is doing just fine. And because I can see myself retiring in less than five years, I'm not about to mess with what I already have.

Carolyn dropped the subject and we just had idle chit chat for a few minutes more, before I bid her a good day.

Every day, Carolyn continued to reach out, to wish me a good day and tell me about hers. She met up with friends a few evenings a week. She volunteered at a seniors' residence. She went to an auction.

One day, she told me that she was going car shopping with a friend, and then she sent me a short video of a scan of cars in a dealership showroom. The cars were Ferraris and Lamborghinis.

"Wow," I said, "is your friend buying one of these cars?"

Carolyn said that her friend was going to buy a car but didn't like what she saw, so instead, Carolyn bought a Ferrari.

"You bought a Ferrari?" I asked. "I've loved Ferraris since I was a kid."

"I've been fortunate enough with my crypto contracts to afford the good things in life," she said. If you want, I can send you information and help you like my aunt has helped me."

"I'm happy where I am," I said, "but thanks anyway."

Again, she didn't press further.

More daily greetings, more photos of her, well-dressed. In the two weeks that we've been interacting, there have been no sexually suggestive photos. Just her, expensively dressed, with tantalizing food or in nice surroundings.

She sent me a note to say that she was thinking of coming to Ottawa at Christmas and I told her that I wouldn't be available, that Christmas is a time for me to be with my family. She then said that maybe she'd come a couple of weeks before Christmas, and I said that I couldn't promise anything but to reach out when she had made her plans.

Whatever.

I kept wondering what she wanted from me. Maybe, she really just wanted to be friends. I told her that I was married and had two kids—again, nothing that anybody couldn't find out just by following me on social media.

Last Friday, she asked me what I was doing, and I told her that DW and I were relaxing in front of the TV. In return, I asked her what she was up to on a Friday night. I half expected her to be getting ready to go out with her friends, but instead she said that she was sitting at home, reading financial magazines, reading more about crypto contracts. That I really should look into them, myself.

"Are you just being friends with me to get me to invest in crypto contracts?" I asked her. "I've already told you, twice, that I'm not interested. I'd like to keep my financial situation private."

"I think you lack ambition," she wrote. "How do you ever expect to succeed if you don't have ambition?"

I think I got more pissed off than I should have, but I let her know that she knew nothing about me or my ambitions, and that if she was going to make such assertions that she couldn't be my friend. I bid her a good night and put my phone down for the night.

If Carolyn was a catfish, I told myself, it was best to pull the plug. I turned my attention to the show that DW and I were watching and didn't look at my phone again until I plugged it into the charger at my bedside table, to charge the phone for the night. I didn't check for messages.

In the morning, I found a message from Carolyn that mentioned nothing about our online argument but was a cheerful message to bid me a good night.

On Saturday evening, she left me another cheerful message and a selfie: again, well dressed and with a smile. She seemed to be in a high-rise apartment and after chatting, she revealed that it was a Manhattan studio that she was thinking of renting.

This time, no mention of crypto investments. Was she thinking that seeing photos of expensive clothes, Ferrari dealerships, Manhattan studios, and good food would make me want to invest with her?

Yesterday, another greeting and more selfies, no different than any others.

Is this a catfish? I've made it clear that I don't want to talk about my finances or investments, and if she mentions crypto again, I'll block her.

I've mentioned that I'm happily married and there's been no talk about anything more than being friends.

What do you think? Have you ever had a similar situation? Should I block her? What should I do?

I'll let you know if anything changes, but if she just wants to be a friend, I can live with that.

Stay tuned?

Bugs Abound

Three tests, all negative. And yet, I've experienced symptoms that are familiar.

Congestion. Aches. Fatigue. I suspected a head cold, at first, as I was largely functional, requiring a rest from time to time. And then my throat got sore and I had headaches. A flu?

It was flu season, after all, with people being urged to get the latest shot, along with the updated COVID inoculation. I was hoping to get my shots as soon as possible when I fell ill.

Three tests, all negative.

As the week progressed, I actually started to feel better. I returned to work, though the fatigue was still there and I had to stop, every once and a while, and lie down. But then I awoke, finding that whatever got ahold of me has spread from my head to my chest, with each breath burning my lungs. A cough had also developed, and so I took more time off work to rest.

Whether I have a flu bug or my third round of COVID, which is giving the tests a false negative, one thing is certain. We need to return to diligence to stop the spread of whatever is going around.

Wear a mask when you're in public. Stay home when you feel unwell. And get your shots.

I'm not going to take any more tests. I'm going to assume that I either have COVID or the flu. I'm encouraging DW to avoid being in public but when she is, to wear a mask.

Bugs abound. Let's make sure they don't stick around.

Be well.

Beer O'Clock: Square Nail

In an old train station along a set of tracks just to the northern end of St. Marys, Ontario, you'll find a small brewery that pays homage to the Grand Trunk Railway of 1858, which used to service St. Marys Junction.

On the last day of our Stratford visit, DW and our travel companions, Nina and Brian, made a side trip to the small town of St. Marys and, in particular to this brewery. Because it participates in the Bacon & Ale trail, we took advantage of our remaining voucher to sample some of the brews on tap. You can read more about that visit in a previous blog post.

Having finished my four samples, I wanted to take some beer home with me: in particular, I wanted a couple of the brews that I had sampled and liked. However, our server, Meg, informed me that the beer that I wanted was either unavailable in cans or was sold out, so I perused the fridge to find other beer that might interest me.

There were cans of a sample I had wanted to try, but the tap at the time was pouring only foam. I picked up a couple of those. I also grabbed a couple of cans of a raspberry sour that Brian had tried and liked. And I also asked Meg to recommend something for me to complete the six-pack that I was building.

Meg pointed to an amber that she said was her favourite, so I went with her recommendation.

Here are my notes.

Square Nail Amber (5.1% ABV)
Broken Rail Brewing
St. Marys ON

Appearance: a clear, rusty-copper with a pale beige head that pours a creamy head that settles to a thin cap. According to the brewers, the rust colour of the ale matches the rusted, square nails that were used in the construction of the train station.

Nose: warm malt and toffee.

Palate: there's a slight bitterness that hits the tongue initially but a sweet toffee dominates the palate. There's even an impression of coffee and walnuts in the medium-length finish. The body is solid without being heavy.

Overall impression: Square Nail is a solid recommendation. Thanks, Meg! Now that we're into cooler weather, this amber would be enjoyable on a night in, relaxing around friends, in good conversation. Maybe with some cheeses and cold meats on the side, with some honey to boot.

This amber is one I'd happily drink whenever I had the opportunity. Though I don't drink this style of beer often, Square Nail has me wanting to reach for an amber more often.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺

Sadly, Broken Rail doesn't deliver to Ottawa. I can't even have it shipped to a friend in Guelph. Deliveries are only local. But as with the beer I enjoyed in Stratford, it's one more reason why I shouldn't be a stranger to this region of Ontario.

If you're in the Stratford–St. Marys area, whether living in the region or just passing through, make Broken Rail a destination.

Cheers!

Fall Is Here

Watching Me Sleep

When I used to go into the office for work, I'd get up at about 5:30 to shower, dress, and get out the door so that I could arrive between 6:30 and 7. I liked to get an early start on the day, with few distractions, and leave early so that I could enjoy some time to myself before heading home.

I miss getting away for a bit after work. I should start doing that part again.

I would go to bed around 11:30 but wouldn't turn off my light and rest my head until after midnight, when my newest blog post would release and I could set up automated announcements for that day. This meant that, by the time I fell asleep, I would only get about five hours of rest until my alarm sounded (actually, my alarm went off at 5 but I would have to hit the snooze button a few times before the final, 5:30 alarm got me out of bed.

Assuming I could fall asleep right away, though it usually takes me about a half an hour to fall asleep if I'm tired enough and there's nothing weighing on my mind.

To sum up, I didn't get a lot of sleep when I worked from the office.

Since March of 2020, I've been working from home and I haven't had the need to get up early. I can now afford to rest until I really need to be online, with just enough time to shower and throw on some clothes. I've even made a morning fruit smoothie part of my morning routine.

My alarm is now set for 7:00, though I still continue to hit the snooze button and get out of bed around 7:30. I'm usually at my desk between 8 and 9, depending on my day's schedule of meetings and whether I have to take out the garbage.

I'm still going to bed at the same time—just after midnight—but I get about two extra hours of sleep.

Yet, I'm always tired.

Last night, while watching the news, I saw a story and interview around the fact that many of us don't get enough REM sleep, the part of rest where our body mends itself. Without enough REM cycles over enough time (apparently, humans average between three and five successful REM cycles), our body wears down and we're susceptible to all kinds of health issues.

I wondered to myself whether or not I get enough REM sleep, so I immediately turned to my Garmin heath app, which monitors my sleeping through my smart watch.

While I seem to get enough hours of sleep, I don't often get enough REM cycles. Or rather, I seem to get only the minimum number of sleep cycles and what I get seems short.

I also don't seem to get enough deep sleep and wonder how that's affecting me, too.

I'm wondering what I should do to prepare myself for a better sleep.

First of all, I should start getting away from a computer screen or my smartphone well before bed. That means all blog posts and video editing tasks should wrap up by 10, and I should place my phone in a Do Not Disturb mode starting at 11, when I put it down and leave it down.

I no longer set up blog posts after midnight, but I should break the habit of wanting to play Wordle and Connections before bed. I can do those when I wake up, before I get out of bed and start my daily routine. (I mean, I already post my game results on social media at that time, anyway.)

I'm going to start these new routines tonight. In a month or so, I'll check the results and take stock of how I feel.

I'm glad I have a watch that monitors me as I sleep. It's like a  medical technician, watching me sleep.

Kayaking in June

I've broken a promise that I made to myself at the beginning of 2022: produce and release at least one video on The Brown Knowser YouTube channel each month.

Last hear was no problem. I released 17 or 18 videos. DW and I did a lot of kayaking, and we travelled to both Mexico and Portugal. Plus, I added a couple of videos that were on my old YouTube channel.

And while I have released 12 videos so far, this year, I'm not maintaining my goal of one video—minimum—each month. Sometimes, I go longer than a month between videos. I even went something like six weeks between releases.

I know, I'm splitting hairs. But if I let time slip between releases, I fear that it might only get worse and people will lose interest in my channel.

If I'm willing to let six weeks slip by, why not eight?

DW and I have kayaked several times this year. Not as often as we had in the previous three years, but often enough. I've carried video cameras with me on most trips but I've only posted one of these video on YouTube all year.

Until now.

In June, we went to Algonquin Provincial Park for two nights, camping in a rented tear-drop trailer in an electrical hook-up site. While we liked sleeping in the camper, we didn't enjoy being shoulder-to-shoulder with other campers.

But the kayaking itself was excellent.

It's taken me months, since we've returned, to extract the video clips from my 360-degree camera and other devices, edit them, and compile them into a succinct story. But this weekend, since I was feeling under the weather and wasn't inclined to do much else, I hunkered in front of my laptop and put a video together (I had almost half of it already done, earlier, but hadn't touched the project in weeks).

Last evening, I uploaded it to my channel and I'm now eager to share it with you. It's 21 minutes long, so grab a snack, get yourself a beverage, and give it a view.

As always, if you like my videos, please subscribe to my channel and give them the ol' thumps up.

I'll eventually get around to the other kayaking videos from this year but my next focus is the video footage that I captured on our recent trip to Southern Ontario. I'm hoping to have it done by the beginning of November.

And I hope I get back to my regular schedule.

Happy Monday!

The Other Side of the Tracks

It was a great location.

Just a few minutes' walk to a Line 1 subway station. A five-minute drive to Kid 2's place. Lots of good restaurants within walking distance.

It was even a short walk from The Annex, though on the other side of the railroad tracks, and another short walk, though uphill, to Casa Loma. Standing on the street, just outside the front doors, we could see the CN Tower—again, on the other side of the tracks.

The last time that we spent the Thanksgiving long weekend in Toronto was a couple of years ago. That time, my parents, DW, and I got ourselves hotel rooms right downtown, just a short walk from the St. Lawrence Market and near the heart of Old Toronto. Kid 1 lived on her campus, in Oakville, and took a GO train into the city for the weekend, staying with DW and myself.

Kid 2 was living in residence at the U of T, and could easily meet up with us.

My sister, Jen, also lives in Toronto, near Yonge and Eglinton, and was also able to meet with us.

On that trip, we spent our whole time in that part of the city, wandering the old neighbourhoods and only venturing as far as the harbourfront, though I did make a drive out to Jennifer Kateryna Koval's'kyj Park, one evening, to photograph the city.

This time, we spent more time in Tarragon Village and the surrounding streets, heading south only to check out the AGO and the ROM. We had our first dinner and both breakfasts at our Airbnb. We ate one lunch in The Annex and had a light lunch across the street from the AGO, at The Village Genius (formerly, The Village Idiot).

Our Sunday dinner was east of Tarragon Village, at a place on Yonge Street, near the same tracks that ran past our Airbnb but on the other side. We always seemed to be close to those tracks, no matter the side we were on.

I'm liking spending the Thanksgiving long weekend away from home, getting to be with family. Perhaps this can be our new tradition.

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: Big Pour

A couple of weeks ago, when DW and I were in Stratford with a couple of friends, we participated in the Bacon & Ale Trail, where, for $35 plus taxes, we received five vouchers that allowed us to sample various restaurants, shops, and breweries in the area. Of the list of participating venues, I wanted to take advantage of as many breweries as possible.

My first stop on our first day, as soon as I had the vouchers, was to Black Angus Bakery & Catering, where I received a bag with a dozen maple and bacon shortbread cookies. They were delicious.

Directly afterward, my friends and I went to a place that was just about to open, and we arrived as they were raising the umbrellas on their patio. The place was a brewery along a Via Rail line in an industrial neighbourhood.

The brewery is called Jobsite.

For the voucher, I was given four five-ounce glasses of anything they had on tap. It was a tricky choice because they had so many brews to choose from and I was tempted by most of them. But I settled on my four: Steam Hammer, a sour Berliner weisse; Impact, a classic British-style IPA; High Vis, an Imperial IPA; and last but not least, a stout.

One of the best stouts I've had in a while. I liked it so much that I brought some home. And it's my choice for today's Beer O'Clock review.

Big Pour Stout (5.8% ABV; 28 IBUs)
Jobsite Brewing Company
Stratford ON

Appearance: pours a deep walnut brown that lets no light pass through. It's head is a darkish taupe that leaves a fizzy, thin head that disappears quickly, but if left to stand leaves a beige, crema-like cap that slowly starts to cover the top of the glass, yet doesn't quite get there.

Nose: espresso coffee (keeping with the crema theme) and rich cocoa. There are even hints of milk chocolate.

Palate: the cocoa and chocolate notes come through stronger and give a slight sweetness, reminding me more of milk chocolate (though this is not a milk stout). The body is full and smooth, and the added vanilla is ever present, and the stout goes down so easily. A coffee flavour, like an Americano, lingers in the finish.

The brewery's tasting notes imply a smokiness that I didn't detect on my own, though there might be a trace of it in the finish. To me, the coffee flavour seems to mask it.

Overall impression: this stout is a real treat. It's both dry and sweet in that there are rich chocolate flavours but it's not at all cloying. It delivers a sweetness up front but the coffee bitterness cleanses the palate at the end without being too bitter. It's so smooth.

It's perfect.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺🍺

It's no wonder that Big Pour took a bronze medal at the 2020 Ontario Brewing Awards in the American Porter and Stout category.

Sadly, Jobsite doesn't deliver outside of the Stratford area, so I don't have easy access to it. I wish I had bought more but I had more breweries to visit and only so much trunk space (even though Big Pour came in small cans). And I couldn't find any brew from Jobsite on the LCBO Web site.

But if you live near Stratford, it's definitely worth paying this brewery a visit or having them deliver this and the other brews I mentioned to your door.

This brewery is just one more reason why I should visit Stratford more often.

Cheers!

Random St. Marys

Vacationing in Ontario: St. Marys

As much as I had thought that returning to St. Marys^*, Ontario, after 29 years would have been a nice detour, I think that it was my final Bacon & Ale Trail voucher that pushed me to suggest it to our friends.

Town Hall.

I wasn't interested in a scented candle from a nick-nack shop, which is one of the two participating spots for my trail. DW and Nina had the option to get either a candle from the same shop or a specialty latte at Snapping Turtle Coffee Roasters, with their Chocolate Trail vouchers, and DW chose the latter.

Nina decided to save her final vouchers to use in Stratford, where we had just checked out from the Airbnb. Nina and Brian had purchased tickets to a fourth play at the Stratford Festival, Much Ado About Nothing, so they were planning to spend more time in the town.

I had an espresso while DW sipped her large latte, and I'm happy to report that having a small cup of lightly caffeinated brew doesn't seem to make my heart race. There's hope.

We spent about an hour or so wandering the town, checking out the memorial garden next to the town hall, the old library building and checking out the parks, bridges, and quaint buildings of this old town. We even made a trek out to the old quarry, which was converted to a large outdoor swimming pool long before DW and I first visited the town.

The Quarry.

It really is a pretty little town. I'll share more photos, tomorrow, for Wordless Wednesday.

But my main goal of our visit, apart from spending time with friends, was to use my final Bacon & Ale Trail voucher at a beer tasting. And we arrived at the brewery shortly after it opened for the day.

Broken Rail Brewing is located in an area just to the north of the town, in an old railway station along a still-used railway line, in St. Marys Junction. Modern homes that were definitely not there 29 years ago made up this new neighbourhood.

Meg, who worked behind the taps, let Brian and I choose four brews from their lineup. We each received four five-ounce glasses to sample from. I didn't have a bad one in the bunch.

I ended up picking up a six pack of three brews, only one of which I picked for my samplers and another that Brian had and enjoyed. The third brew was one that I wanted to sample but the tap wasn't cooperating and was pouring only foam into the glass.

I'll share my thoughts on some Broken Rail beer in an upcoming Beer O'Clock review.

From the brewery, we had to drive straight back to Stratford so that Brian and Nina could have a bite to eat before their matinée, so we bid them adieu as we dropped them off. DW and I took a leisurely lunch and wandered the Shakespearean Gardens before continuing on to Guelph.

That's our road trip in a nutshell. I hope you've enjoyed it. I'm working on a YouTube video that will hopefully be done by the end of the month or early in November.

Stay tuned...

^* Yes, there is no apostrophe in St. Marys. I did not make recurring typos in my posts.

Shadow Play

Note: I wrote this review just before I went away for a Thanksgiving weekend getaway. In my foolish haste, I didn't proofread it. After seeing it up on the blog, I found some glaring grammatical errors but most importantly, I felt the review was too harsh, considering I really did enjoy reading the book (oops... spoiler!). I have updated the review to reflect more of how I truly feel about this worthwhile novel.

For me, it was more marionette than shadow puppets. Strings were being pulled from the very beginning.

And I was happily pulled along for the ride.

In Canadian author Peggy Blair's fifth novel, Shadow Play, she moves away from her Inspector Ramirez series and leaves Cuba behind, while maintaining two characters from that series. One character is integral to the story, while the other only filled a small supporting role—one who could have been brought out from the shadows (get it?) or taken out altogether.

The story is set in my home city of Ottawa and Peggy really brings it to life, where she weaves in the woes of Ottawa's LRT troubles and reminds us of the chaos that was brought to the downtown core by the so-called Freedom Rally, where dozens of trucks blocked off streets near Parliament Hill, for weeks, in early 2022.

But Peggy is a detective novelist, so Shadow Play is all about murder. Gritty murder. Murder most foul.

And it seems as though Peggy gives us the person who dunnit right from the start. But is it as clear as that or is there something else that lurks in the shadows?

Ooh... there's where shadows come into... play.

I have to admit that just beyond the halfway point of the story, I had a strong suspicion as to who did the actual killing of real-estate agent Susan Winchester. And as the story drew to a close, my suspicion turned out to be right.

Still, knowing who did the killing (and really, it was only a strong suspicion until the very end) didn't ruin my enjoyment of the novel. It was a real page turner that had me gripped from beginning to end.

The story begins with an unnamed boss who is close to the goings on in Ottawa, and he wants Winchester, who has some unknown information that can ruin the boss' plans, out of the way. He extorts his lacky assistant, Bobby Hinchey, to take care of Winchester by hiring a Russian hitman, who is none other than Slava Kadun from Peggy's novel, Umbrella Man.

Investigating the murder from the start is Detective Charlie Pike, who Peggy had introduced in Hungry Ghosts. But Pike only makes a short appearance at the start of the investigation, as he is called away from Ottawa. He hands over the case to recently suspended but reinstated Detective Jamie Wallace, who must team up with Detective Michel Tremblay, who is the reason for her suspension, after she had punched him.

The two are more adversaries than partners.

The investigation follows a trail that points to possible corruption within the city's upper echelons, and there is even the suggestion that the murder itself could have been motivated by hate. And it's all set during an upcoming municipal election.

Shadow Play is a page-turner of a novel, and I was especially drawn to it because of my love of the city that I call home, but also because Peggy used a real-life person that I know and have met, lawyer Leslie Kirk. But there are some elements to the story that I didn't like.

For instance, Wallace sees ghosts, much like Inspector Ramirez did. She sees the ghost of the murder victim, Winchester, and she sees the ghost of a young boy, who is in physical distress. Through the course of the story, Wallace solves the murder and gets to the heart of the matter of the boy, but I had figured that end of the story very early on.

I felt that seeing ghosts was a unique quality in Ramirez. Seeing it in another main character, for me, took away that uniqueness.

The development of Wallace, however, is intriguing and sets her up to be a compelling, recurring character in future novels, which I hope Peggy pursues.

I felt, too, that Charlie Pike could have been better utilized other than to introduce Wallace to the murder case, to offer some helpful clues, by phone, and to be at the end to congratulate Wallace for solving the case. I often wondered, while reading the story, if it could have been told just as well if he hadn't been written into it. Or, if he could have played an even greater role by remaining as part of the team.

Maybe, though, three's a crowd?

Peggy's murder story was solid and well-told, and as I said, I really enjoyed it. I even developed sympathy toward the hitman, Kadun. Shadow Play is definitely Peggy's best book to date and I highly recommend it for all murder mystery buffs.

Happy reading!

Vacationing in Ontario: Stratford

It was a visit that was a long time coming.

DW and I haven't been to Stratford, Ontario, since 1994, while we were on our honeymoon. Back then, we were pretty poor and could only afford a one-night stay—two, at most—at a B&B. For most of our vacation, 29 years ago, we camped at various provincial and regional parks.

That was back when I actually enjoyed camping.

Thankfully, we have a better budget for vacations, so when we decided to revisit Stratford, after all these years, we rented an Airbnb that was a short walk from the downtown core.

Why a house and not just get a hotel room, you may ask? Well, when we were discussing our road trip with our friends, Nina and Brian, they expressed that they were planning to take in some Stratford Festival plays around the same time, so we agreed to go together and share accommodation.

The house was perfect. It had two bedrooms and two bathrooms, both with showers. It had laundry facilities, which DW and I needed to take advantage of, as we had used most of the clothes that we had packed with us. It had a kitchen, dining room, and living room, with plenty of space for four adults.

We were a five-minute walk to the Avon Theatre and less than 15 minutes from either the Festival Theatre venue or Tom Patterson Theatre, both along the Avon River. It never took us more than 10 minutes to walk to a restaurant or pub, which we visited for at least dinner, if not lunch.

DW and I were less than an hour and a half from Stratford when we headed out, on Tuesday. We bid farewell to our lovely hosts, Mari and Pete, who invited us to stay on Monday night, after spending a few nights in Toronto. We were out of their hair before lunchtime.

We made a stop in Kitchener, which I haven't been to since 2001, when my older sister and I cleaned out our dad's apartment, after he died. I remember staying at the Walper Hotel, in the city's core, and I remember cleaning out the apartment, but not much else.

But on this stop, DW and I were looking for a quick and inexpensive lunch, and we found one at the City Café Bakery. We had tasty open-faced sandwich melts and took away some baked goods, and were back on the road in no time.

I knew that our route would be taking us through the village of Shakespeare, and I was interested in stopping at a brewery by the same name to pick up some beer that we'd keep at our Airbnb. Unfortunately, as I walked up to the entrance, I discovered that the brewery wasn't open on Tuesdays. I'd have to wait until Friday to make any visits, as we would be passing through again on our way to Guelph.

I didn't go back, as you'll soon learn.

Nina and Brian weren't expected until the evening, so DW and I checked in to the house, picked a room, and started a load of laundry. I processed some of my photos and set up last Wednesday's blog post, while DW made a phone call.

With our laundry going through the drier, DW and I headed to a nearby grocery store and stocked up for the next few days. We planned to eat breakfast at the Airbnb but lunches were optional and dinner would always be out somewhere. We didn't want to overstock because we didn't know what Nina and Brian were bringing, so we had eggs, milk, juice, bread, fruit, veggies for dipping in hummus, and some snack foods. We also bought some ham, which could be used with breakfast or lunch.

We also stocked up on beer, cider, and wine, which we bought too much of, but we could always bring that to Guelph.

Our first dinner was at the Italian restaurant, Fellini's, where DW had a wonderful rotini dish and I had a carbonara that hit the spot. After dinner, we wandered the town and I struck up a conversation with a man who looked familiar to me, only to realize, after we parted ways, that he was Canadian actor Peter Keleghan, from The Red Green Show, The Newsroom, and Workin' Moms, among other shows and movies.

Another brush with celebrities.

I won't get into the play-by-play of our time in Stratford but here are the highlights:

• 
  King Lear—we've seen several productions of this Shakespeare play and this one will go down as one of the more memorable ones. Starring Paul Gross as Lear, this cast was stellar, with not a weak performace in the bunch. And at one point, when the young Gloucester was plotting his evil work and a member of the audience laughed at a seemingly ill-timed part, Gloucester pointed toward the audience member and said, "Ah?" as though acknowledging that the person agreed with the plot. When one character forgot another character's name, they ad-libbed and made it seem natural, much to the whole audience's amusement.
• The Bacon & Ale Trail and The Chocolate Trail—DW and Nina went for chocolate; Brian and I went for beer and meat. For $35, plus tax, you can buy five vouchers for the Bacon & Ale Trail or six vouchers for the Chocolate Trail. There are many shops and restaurants that participate, and you can have a flight of beer samples, eat a few strips of elevated bacon, enjoy a gluten-free chocolate brownie cake, receive a sample of truffles, and more. You get more than your money's worth and the vouchers don't expire, so you don't have to use them all on one day. There are even places in the neighbouring town of St. Marys that participate, so we got around.
• 
  Spamalot—I'm not one for musical theatre but I'm a huge Monty Python fan, particularly of The Holy Grail, so this play was a must-see. And I'm so glad we went. Again, the cast was stellar and the performances had us cheering throughout the play. And I learned, just as we were leaving Stratford, that this musical is being held over, beyond the Stratford Festival dates.
• Stratford Thai Cuisine—authentic Thai food and excellent staff. You have to book a table well in advance or you're out of luck. We saw so many people turned away but we had reserved our spot before we came to town. Everything was inexpensive so it put no cramp in our budget.
• Whatever 75—this is such a quirky restaurant that will put you in a good mood. This food emporium is LGBTQ+ friendly and features menu items such as Chick-Fil-Gay (in your face, Chick-fil-A!), Bacon-Ate-Her (way better than the Wendy's burger), and white-breast chicken wings (boneless and shaped like wings). Their chicken is buttermilk-brined and is probably the most succulent meat I've ever tasted. The staff is as amazing as they are diverse.
• 
  Wedding Band—this is the one play that we knew nothing about, going in, and had no expectations. It's the story of an inter-racial couple, in America's racist south, just after the First World War. At this time, it's illegal for the two lovers to be together, and they struggle with finding love in such a hate-filled environment. I've often been attracted to stories that either make me laugh, make me cry, or make me think. Wedding Band achieved all three with great acting in a gripping story. I'm so glad we made the decision to see this performance.
• Jobsite Brewing Company—of course, you knew I'd check out at least one brewery on my trip. I won't get in to many details other than to say that I spent one of my Bacon & Ale Trail vouchers wisely by paying this place a visit. I'll have more to say, next Thursday, for my Beer O'Clock review.
• Mercer Kitchen and Beer Hall—we stopped here for a quick bite before seeing Wedding Band, and Brian and I took advantage of our vouchers by having a plate of bacon and a six-ounce glass of beer. The bacon was elevated with seasoning and a glaze, and was served with a sauce and some greens. It was amazing. I also had a peanut salad that was fantastic.

• Brch & Wyn—we stopped here shortly before going to Mercer and that's why I only had a salad for lunch. Even our server at Mercer commented on how this coffee shop/wine bar is known for generous sizes. Our vouchers entitled us to a sausage roll and a six-ounce glass of beer, but the shop was out of sausage rolls. Instead, they made us a Cubano sandwich, which was huge. Brian and I were too full to eat a full lunch with Nina and DW, though I did share my peanut salad with DW.
• Boar's Head Pub—after 160 years, it's still going strong. DW and Nina used vouchers for a gluten-free brownie cake while Brian and I sipped some local beer from Black Swan Brewing. Apart from several large TV screens, this feels like a true British pub.
• Bentley's Bar | Inn | Restaurant—we had our final meal here, on their patio. DW and I each ordered a different sandwich and then split half with each other. I ordered a pint of a pale ale from Shakespeare Brewing Company, but after a few sips I detected a flaw in the beer and sent it back. The chemical taste stayed in my mouth for so long that it put me off the brewery, and we decided not to stop as we passed through Shakespeare, on our way to Guelph. But the food at Bentley's was good and the service was friendly.
• Shakespearean Gardens—DW and I finished our visit of Stratford, after Nina and Brian headed off to an afternoon showing of Much Ado About Nothing, by revisiting this park after about 29 years. It doesn't seem to have changed and has kept its beauty. My only regret is that I didn't have my expedition hat to place on Shakespeare's head.

From the gardens, DW and I jumped in our car and headed to Guelph, which was the climax of our road trip. We spent two nights with our friends, Karen and Steve, who hosted a reunion on Saturday night. DW and I drove home on Sunday feeling like we had the best road trip in ages.

I still have one more half-day to share, where we spent in St. Marys, before Nina and Brian went to their matinée and before DW and I went to the Shakespearean Gardens, and I'll save that for next week and for a future beer review.

It feels as though DW and I have just returned from this trip and already, we're about to embark on another one. Tomorrow, we head back to Toronto: this time, with Kid 1 and my folks, where we'll celebrate both Thanksgiving and my younger sister's upcoming birthday. And we'll get to spend more time with Kid 2, as well.

Happy Friday and have a great weekend!

If I Had 10 Million Dollars

... I would buy you a house.

Last week, as DW and I were walking through a residential street in Cabbagetown, Toronto, we admired how this neighbourhood reminded us of an upscale version of the Glebe, in Ottawa. (Most of the Glebe is pretty upscale to a lot of Ottawa neighbourhoods, so that tells you just how posh the Cabbagetown homes were.)

We stopped in front of one house, on Carlton Street, which had a for-sale sign in its lovely garden.

"If you had 10 million dollars," DW said, "would you want to live here?"

"You'd pretty much need all of that 10 million for a house in this 'hood," I joked, "but no, I wouldn't want to live in Toronto."

"But you have a daughter who lives in Toronto," DW continued, "we'd be able to see her perform whenever we wanted to." Kid 2 is a drummer who is currently in three different bands. She also does the occasional session work.

"We also have a daughter who lives in Ottawa," was my retort. Mind you, she is currently living at home and we don't know how long she'll stay there, or where she'll go when she's ready to move on. "Besides," I added, "I'm moving to Porto after I retire. Why would I move anywhere else?"

I've been telling DW, ever since we returned from Portugal, a year ago, that I loved the country so much that I am seriously considering liquidating all of our assets and getting a small but comfortable place in Porto. I've also said that I'd like her to join me, but whether she comes or not, that's where I'll be.

So no, if I had $10,000,000, I would not move to Cabbagetown or anywhere else in Toronto. I'd just have a good nest egg when I moved to Portugal, which would be even sooner.

I don't know why she even bothered asking me if I'd live in Stratford, while we were there. But it certainly wouldn't take as much money.

Random Stratford