The Moment

When DW returned from her recent camping trip, she showed me some of the photos that she had captured over those five days.

In particular, there were some photos of a bird feeding its babies, often with much of its head inside the wide-open mouths of the wee ones.

"What do you think?" she asked me. Though I'm not a professional photographer, DW thinks that my opinion holds value.

"Cool shots," I said. "These would have been fantastic if the mom and baby were in focus."

"But this baby is in focus," she said, pointing to another youngling, its mouth also wide open in anticipation of a meal.

"Yes," I said, "but my attention is drawn to the mother and sibling. That's where the action is happening."

Indeed, both DW and I know how difficult it is to get sharp images of birds, especially when they are moving. I can't count how many times we've looked at each other's bird photos and lamented how we wished the action shot was sharp.

DW seemed disappointed with my feedback, so I explained that at least she captured the action. "While I wouldn't want to print this image or share it on social media," I said, "it's a good capture of the event. It'll be a good reminder of the time you had on your trip."

Indeed, I've always felt that it's better to photograph the action and risk getting it out of focus than to wait until you've focused and miss the opportunity. This was the case with her bird photo.

Last week, when I attended a photo shoot at The Capital Fair, other photographers and I were vying for great opportunities of capturing our models in action while being mindful of what was going on around them, adjusting for the light and the movement.

At one point, we took our models to a petting zoo, where goats and alpacas were in a fenced-in area. People could purchase a cup of feed for the animals and give it to them. We set up our models with cups and let them go to work.

The animals were eager to get in the shots, and we had to move around to keep kids, who were also feeding the animals, out of our frames. And the animals also moved quickly.

As I was crouching low, one of our models, Kim, was also crouched low to feed goats, who were poking their heads through a gap in the fence. Kim's boyfriend and fellow model, Jerry, positioned himself on the other side of the goats.

As I was framing my shot, an alpaca looked out from the top of the fence and lowered his head toward Kim. Kim looked up to the alpaca and pursed her lips in a kiss.

I wasn't quite ready for the shot but I took it anyway. The subjects weren't quite in focus but the pose only lasted an instant. My next shot, which was in focus, came too late.

But to me, the kiss shot was thee shot.

What do you think? Is it better to capture the moment or get a perfectly focused shot?

For me, I'll take the moment every time (though, it's always best if you can get both at the same time).

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: Another Non-Alcoholic IPA

Pouring them, side-by-side, I could have sworn that I was pouring the same beer.

It wouldn't surprise me if Farm Boy had struck a deal with Collective Arts. And I would have even said that they were a good fit for one another: a small but growing Ontario grocery chain and a small but growing Ontario craft brewery.

Looking at both glasses, I saw the same, unfiltered yellow ale with a foamy, white head that settled to a solid lace. It was as though I had poured two glasses of carbonated lemonade.

But the nose differed, as did the flavour profile. And one read that it was produced in Ottawa, while the other came from Hamilton.

They were not the same IPA. But which one is better?

Last week, I looked at Farm Boy's own brand of non-alcoholic IPA. I picked it up toward the end of my Dry July challenge, along with another non-alcoholic IPA from one of my favourite Ontario breweries, which was on the shelf next to the house brand.

Let's look at that brew now.

Non-Alcoholic IPA (0.4% ABV)
Collective Arts Brewing
Hamilton ON

I've already mentioned the appearance, so let's continue...

Nose: a sharp pine and something chemical, almost like acetone. Normally, I would say this is the sign of a flaw but I think this is how it smells. I've smelled other non-alcoholic beer that has had this aroma, only not as strong. There's also a bit of malt on the nose and a hint of biscuit.

Palate: the pine resin continues in the mouth with a bit of pineapple and grapefruit. There are stronger qualities that lean toward an IPA than what the Farm Boy brew had, but there's also a bit of a petrol essence in the finish that I didn't like.

Overall impression: while there are some characteristics of an IPA in this offering by Collective Arts, whereas there was more of a saison in the Farm Boy IPA, I actually prefer drinking the Farm Boy IPA to the Collective Arts offering.

That said, I thought the Collective Arts non-alcoholic IPA was fine. I've always said that this Hamilton brewery has never produced anything that I haven't liked, and this rings true in this case. It's not its best beer but I've certainly had worse.

Would I buy it again? No. I much prefer their Hazy Pale Ale and would reach for it when choosing this style of non-alcoholic beverage. If offered the choice of the Collective Arts IPA and the Farm Boy IPA, I would accept the Farm Boy brew, even though it doesn't resemble an IPA.

I just prefer its flavour profile.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺 even though I prefer the Farm Boy NA IPA, I give Collective Arts a higher score because it at least is closer to an IPA.

You can find Collective Arts NA IPA in select grocery stores, the LCBO, and you can also order it directly from Collective Arts.

Cheers!

Date Night

Panic on the Streets of Bytown

There are no photos for this post. Which is ironic, considering this story takes place during a photo shoot.

I usually sign up for two or three photo meetups with my club each year, and last Thursday was the third one, right behind the fair shoot I attended, two days before.

This meetup was part photo shoot, part social event, and was held at a bar on Elgin Street. Photographers were told to pack light, meaning no tripods or big lighting setups. I arrived with just one D-SLR and a speedlight (flash).

Simple.

Models were told to dress up for a night on the town. The women were gorgeous; the men, looking sharp. I showed up wearing a dark grey shirt and black pants, so that I wouldn't stand out, should a photographer find be far in the background of a shot.

I arrived about 10 minutes late, as parking in the Elgin Street area can be a challenge on a Thursday night. When I arrived at the venue, which was on the second floor of the building, photographers and models seemed to already be working the scene.

Being held in a bar, I expected to see tables and chairs, and a long bar with plenty of stools, but most of the moveable furniture had been removed to make a large open space in which people could work. It wasn't so much a bar setting as it was a bar that was converted into a studio area.

I saw Mike, our club's organizer almost right away. He was chatting with another photographer. When he saw me, he waved.

"Long time, no see," we said simultaneously. Both of us had been at The Capital Fair event. He pointed out a model, who he said was the person behind this event, and I should see her and provide my social-media information: primarily, my Instagram details.

As it happened, as if almost on cue, she approached us, and Mike made the introductions. I gave her my Instagram information and then she said to make myself at home, that she'd return and I could start by photographing her.

I moved out of the way, to an area where a doorway led onto a balcony, where photographers were capturing models with the buildings across the street and the road, below, as backdrops. I gave my attention to my camera, making sure that I had adequate settings—ISO, shutter speed, aperture, and so on—for this shoot. I didn't want to think that my final settings from the fair, with a one-second shutter speed, especially, were still dialed in. I placed my camera in shutter-speed mode and set my shutter speed at 1/160 speed and a 200 ISO, letting the camera decide the appropriate aperture; though, the flash would change that and I'd probably have to make some adjustments after the first shot.

That's when everything changed.

I could feel my heart racing, the blood whooshing through my ears at a near-deafening volume. My head felt heavy and my vision seemed dimmed. I felt as though I couldn't breathe. I was dizzy and feared that I was going to collapse.

I gripped my camera tightly, hoping that if I was going to fall down, I'd be able to protect my equipment. But I didn't fall.

Was I having a heart attack? A stroke? All I knew was that I didn't want to be there: I needed to get outside as fast as possible.

Part of what happened next is a bit of a blur, as though I was incredibly drunk. I somehow got past people without interacting with anybody. I vaguely remember seeing a photographer that I knew from past meetups, but he was working with one of the models.

I remember leaning into the handrail, pressing myself as close to a wall as I could, as I headed downstairs. I was terrified of losing my footing or balance, and tumbling down to the sidewalk below.

But I made it in one piece.

Out in the fresh air, my head almost immediately started to clear, but my heart was still racing, my nerves on edge. I started breathing deeply—in through the nose; out through the mouth.

And my desire to get away from the bar was still foremost in my head.

I made my way back to my vehicle and climbed behind the driver's seat. I lay my camera on the passenger seat, and realized that I was shaking, shivering, as though I had a bad chill.

This is the point when I told myself that I wasn't having a heart attack or stroke. I felt no tightening in my chest, no pain in the arms or shoulders.

I was having a panic attack. At 59 years old, I was experiencing my first panic attack.

I have a daughter who occasionally experiences panic attacks and I recognized it in my desire to escape my surroundings. I pushed myself to think clearly, to breathe, and to tell myself that I was okay. I was safe. This feeling would pass.

I sat in my car for at least another five to 10 minutes, until I was convinced that I could drive. And so, I drove home.

DW was away, on a camping trip, but my kid was at home. When I got back, I told her about what I had experienced. She told me that what I described was similar to the anxiety that she has experienced during a panic attack, but just to make sure, she made me take some Aspirin and she contacted DW.

DW wanted me to go to the hospital, to make sure I wasn't, in fact, having a heart attack, but I said that going to a hospital would stress me out, and I had finally calmed down (though, I felt as though the adrenaline was still working its way through my system).

Our kid kept me company until it was time to go to bed, and as soon as I was under the covers, I was out like a light. The next morning, before she left for work, my daughter gave me a tight hug and let me know she loved me.

A panic attack is a terrifying experience. Having my first-ever attack at such a late stage in life was one of the scariest things I've ever experienced. I don't know what caused it and there's no way to know if I'll ever have one again, but if I do, there's one thing for certain.

I hope my kid will be around.

Capital Fair

I haven't been to a town fair in a long time.

The last time I went was in 2011 (geez, this is the third post, this week, related to 2011). DW was out of the country, on business, and I had charge of our kids, who were 10 and eight at the time. I thought it was a good idea to take them to the Carp Fair, and so we headed out for the afternoon.

We wandered the various attractions and I let them try their luck at some of the kids games, like the ring and bean-bag tosses. They each one a prize, and so they were in good spirits. I let them share a giant cotton-candy cone and we also had lunch.

When it came to the rides, I let them each choose one. Kid 1 wanted to try the UFO ride, where you go inside a centrifuge and lay on a plank that raised you up. I lay on either side of them, and when the ride started, they both wanted to hold my hand, especially when the plank started moving out toward the walls and their feet were off the ground.

Kid 1 couldn't wait for the ride to stop.

Next, Kid 2 chose a ride that had us sitting side-by-side in little chairs, where everyone was in the same row. There were no harnesses to constrain us: only flimsy chains that connected to the arm rests.

The ride swung us from side to side, taking us higher with each swing. All of us were getting jostled around because of the slipper seats, and when each kid wanted to hold my hand, I was afraid I was going to get thrown out. Kid 2 cried and Kid 1 begged for the ride to stop.

It took a while to settle them down after the ride ended, and they were done with the rides, except for one: the Ferris wheel.

The saw it moving slowly and felt that was their pace. We purchased tickets and climbed aboard. And yes, the pace was a perfect way to end the afternoon.

Nearly 13 years later, I found myself at another fair, without the kids. This time, I met up with my photography club at the Capital Fair, next to Rideau Carleton Casino (formerly, the Raceway), on Albion Road.

We had hired a couple of models, who were boyfriend and girlfriend, to wander the fair grounds on a romantic date. We captured them feeding goats and alpacas, eating ice cream and cotton candy, trying their luck at some of the games, and more.

It was a fun shoot. I'll share some of those photos next week (I have hundreds to get through!).

But after we wrapped up, I still wanted to capture some of the fair, itself, so I hung around a bit longer, taking pictures of the grounds, the stands, and the Ferris wheel (it reminds me of the highlight of my time with the kids).

I loved how, as I passed a kids' ride on my way toward the exit, camera and tripod in hand, the carny called me over to ask what I was up to (strange question, as four photographers and two models had been wandering the grounds all night: I thought what we were doing was obvious). 

When I told him that I was taking various shots of the fair grounds. He told me that if I slow down my shutter speed, I could get some neat effects of the Ferris wheel.

Oh, really?

Here are some of my pics of the evening. All, taken before the handy tips from the kind and well-intentioned carny.

The fair runs until this Sunday, August 25.

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: Farm Boy IPA

Just because I'm no longer taking a dry month doesn't mean that I have to stop drinking non-alcoholic beer.

After I finished my Dry July challenge, I noticed how some of my tummy fat had gone away, despite the fact that I wasn't exercising as much as I should. And I started thinking that maybe, I was on to something.

Trust me, this doesn't mean that I'm giving up alcohol. But I have decided that, for the remainder of the year—perhaps longer—I'm going to seriously reduce my alcohol intake.

Not that I drink a lot under normal circumstances.

I've decided that I will allow myself a drink (or two) on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. The remainder of a week will be dry, the only exceptions will be if I'm on vacation (I'll be at an all-inclusive resort, in Mexico, for a week in December, and there's no way that I could stick to this rule!).

If I want something that resembles a cocktail or beer from Sunday through Wednesday, it has to be non-alcoholic. I don't set the rules... oh, wait, I do.

This means that if I want to review an alcoholic beer for Beer O'Clock, I have to do the reviewing on my drinking days. If I find myself on any other day and want something for my Thursday posts, the beer can't contain any booze.

Which brings us (finally!) to today's review.

At the end of July, I stocked up on a bunch of non-alcoholic beer that I discovered in my friendly neighbourhood Farm Boy grocery store. To my surprise, they had a good selection, including a few from one of my favourite Ontario breweries, Collective Arts. When I saw that CA had a non-alcoholic stout, I emptied the shelf, and that was the brew that I drank to finish off my Dry July.

But Farm Boy also stocked its own brand of non-alcoholic beer, including an IPA. And I became curious: how would this brew stack up to, let's say, the Collective Arts non-alcoholic IPA?

I'll review the Farm Boy ale today and the CA brew next week.

Now, Farm Boy doesn't say who makes their near-beer (actually, since NA beer has improved over the years, I have grown to dislike that term), neither on the can nor on their Web site, and a Google search yielded no help. So I'll give the grocery chain the credit.

IPA (less than 0.5% ABV)
Farm Boy
Ottawa ON (that's what the can says: surprised me!)

Appearance: pours an unfiltered pale yellow, resembling lemonade. The head was a foamy white that poured thick because I didn't tilt the glass but settled to a thin, solid lace.

Nose: fresh pineapple with a hint of orange citrus.

Palate: light pear with a slight bitterness, though I didn't detect any hops, and there's a watery, biscuity malt that is so easy going (almost like someone had dropped a hard tack in the glass and let it soften, or like an Arrowroot biscuit but not sweet). The body is extremely light and there's almost no finish.

Overall impression: there's almost nothing to this beer that makes me think of IPA. Perhaps Farm Boy put IPA on the can because those initials seem to sell beer. Yes, that's a harsh statement but if I had tried this brew in a blind tasting, I would have leaned more to a saison more than an IPA. It's missing the banana and mineral flavours of a saison but has a closer profile to that style than to an IPA.

That said, this beer tastes good. It's refreshing, light, and is perfect for a hot summer day. I would certainly reach for one again, despite its poor choice of name.

Beer O'Clock rating: this is a tough one. Because it doesn't resemble an IPA, I would tend to give it a 🍺, but because it's tasty and refreshes, and I liked the flavour, I would want to give it a higher score. So, I'll award it a 🍺.5.

(I have to come up with a half-pint image.)

Obviously, Farm Boy IPA can be found at the grocery chain by the same name. As it is owned by Sobey's, I don't know if that grocery store carries it as well or if it has the same brew under its own label. If you know, leave me a comment.

I'm looking forward to trying the Collective Arts non-alcoholic IPA, and I'll have it side-by-side with Farm Boy's version, for comparison.

Cheers!

Shake, Rattle, and Roll

I'm still underestimating how long it takes to make a video.

On Monday evening, I started editing and compiling 13-year-old video clips that I stumbled upon while looking for a random photo to share on my social-media sites. I figured that it would take me a couple of days to complete—a couple of hours each night until it was done.

When I finished work, on Monday, I thought I would start by creating an intro and an outro to this video and placing all of the clips into a new project. That was my plan for day one.

But I made the intro and outro in one take, and it only took me about a half hour, including the setup (lights and video camera) and moving this video into the project folder that contained the older clips. It took about 15 to 20 minutes to search through royalty-free songs and find a suitable soundtrack, and by the end of the first hour, I had my project files uploaded to a library in my video-editing software, Final Cut Pro X.

So, I kept going.

When Kid 1 returned home from work, I was more than halfway through the video. Everything was going smoothly. I did have to search through the software to figure out one special effect: there was a panned shot that I liked but wished it ran backwards. Once I figured that out, I had to further crop it so that people, cars, and bicycles would not be seen moving in the wrong direction.

Kid 1 had a particular craving for dinner, and asked if she could make it for us. I was happy to let her prepare our supper while I continued work on my video.

I took a break when dinner was ready (it was a delicious meal of teriaki salmon filets, brown rice with vegetables, and a mango salad that she had made for a pot luck on the weekend, but had enough leftovers for two people) and also cleaned the kitchen when we were finished.

It was another great daddy-daughter moment (we spent some time together, on Sunday, watching The Monkees on YouTube).

With the kitchen cleaned, I sat down at another computer to write yesterday's blog post. I knew exactly what I wanted to say so I knew it wouldn't take more than a half hour to write it up and schedule it. I then returned upstairs, to the study (where I shot the intro and outro), and continued work on the video.

When I realized that the video was going to be more than 20 minutes in length, I started cutting. I also sped up a few clips.

I told myself that few people would want to watch this video to the end and that I was making it more for myself than for my viewers. As I stated in yesterday's blog post (an in the video), the shaking of the camera that was attached to my handle bars make The Blair Witch Project look as though it was shot with a camera on a gimble.

When my smartphone signalled to me that it was bedtime, I was almost finished. I had just a few more clips to edit and then add the outro clip and final title screen. I played the finished video, trimmed it down some more, and then exported the project to an MP4 file.

Even for me, watching it was tough. But it was done, and all I had left to do was upload it to my YouTube channel. While the video was uploading, I quickly made a thumbnail photo for the video tile and added it to the YouTube project.

With the video being rendered on YouTube, I got ready for bed and took my lung meds. Yeah, I got to bed an hour later than usual but the video was done.

If you've got a little more than 16 minutes of free time, give it a view. But I warn you, there's a lot of shake, rattle and roll.

If you like my (other) videos, please subscribe to my channel. I have a very small community but I'd like to see 250 subscribers by the end of the year.

I've already started work on my next video, and with the speed at which I can now put them together, I'm hoping to have it done either at the end of this month or the beginning of September.

Stay tuned.

Lost Video

Anybody who follows me on my two main social-media platforms, Mastodon and Threads, knows that I often post what I call a random photo of the day. I started doing so almost immediately after starting up on Mastodon and took it up a few months after I opened a Threads account.

What I do is that I go to various places where I've stored photos, depending on the device I'm on at the time: my Google photo albums, Flickr, or, if I'm using my home laptop, from my photo database. I would basically grab a random album and close my eyes as I clicked inside the album or folder, or, if I was using my smartphone, I'd swipe an album quickly, making the photos fly by, before tapping on the screen to make them stop and selecting a photo.

If I randomly selected a photo of family members, a picture of food, or of one or more of my cats, I'd usually choose again, unless the photo was well-composed and well-exposed. I've wanted to always put a good photo forward.

On a couple of occasions, I've selected the same photo twice, but that doesn't matter. That's what random is all about.

On the weekend, I was scrolling through my Google photos on my smartphone and my finger landed on a video instead of a still, and it gave me pause. It was a video that I hadn't thought about in almost 13 years and it was all but forgotten.

Before I was giving any thought to having a YouTube channel, I wanted to make simple videos that I could keep for posterity. I didn't really own a video camera and because my smartphone, at the time, was an iPhone 4s, I never even contemplated using it to make videos.

I still have it and it still works.

But one day, I saw a pocket-sized video camera for sale in, of all places, Chapters-Indigo. It was a basic, digital video camera that shot 720p video. It was easy to use and, best of all, let me get the video clips from the camera to my computer by simply flipping out a USB connector.

And, at about $150, it was cheap.

I didn't use it much. I captured William and Catherine, the Prince and Princess of Wales, on that Canada Day, as they rode a horse-drawn cart along Wellington street. I captured some video when our family was on vacation in Cape Cod, but there were far too many random clips to use in any kind of cohesive video.

But in October, I decided that I'd go on a bike ride from my home to downtown, and back, on a circuit that I often did back then, and I thought I would attach the Flip camera to my handlebars. I cycled to Hog's Back, along the Rideau River to almost the Rideau Falls, to Parliament Hill, and back home via the Ottawa River parkway and Woodroffe Avenue.

It was the longest 50K ride I've ever taken, with many stops along the way.

When I got home, I must have transferred the video clips to my computer and added them to my Google album, but then I never did anything with the clips. They lay forgotten until now.

So, on Sunday night, I transferred all of the video clips to a thumb drive. Yesterday, I made a quick intro and outro to describe the video, and put everything into a folder on a solid-state drive where I keep video projects for my YouTube channel.

And last night, I started creating a full-length video.

It's not a bad video, except for one major issue. All of the video footage that was shot while I was moving on the bike is awful. The Flip video camera has no stabilization of any kind and must have a frame rate of 25 to 30 fps.

As I explain in the intro, the shaking makes The Blair Witch Project look like it was shot with the aid of a gimble.

Nevertheless, I plan to post the completed video on my channel in the next couple of days (maybe, even today), just for shits and giggles. But this video has given me an idea, too.

Thirteen years later, the technology in pocket-sized video cameras has improved tenfold. I have three video cameras that have built-in stabilization that smooths out any bumpy road.

In October, I'm going to retrace the route from this video. Knowing what I now know about videos, I hope to make the newer video more watchable.

Stay tuned.

A Taste of Nostalgia

There's something really unusual that happens when I watch an episode of Professor of Rock on YouTube: I get whatever song he's covering stuck in my head.

Okay, that's not the unusual bit. What's unusual is that the song doesn't enter my head until several days after I watch the show. A few minutes after watching the show, I become preoccupied with the next thing that fills my head and not soon after, I completely forget which artist or band was the topic of that nearly daily show.

"The Monkees" by Mark Sardella is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

The song just pops in my head two or three days later and plays on a continual loop for the remainder of that day. So it was no surprise that, three days after watching an episode of the popular 1960s show, The Monkees, on Professor of Rock, the theme song became an ear worm that occupied much of my Sunday.

As a kid, I would race home after school to catch an episode. Though, by then, the show was in syndication, it was a favourite of mine, right up there with Gilligan's Island, Get Smart, The Beverley Hillbillies, The Brady Bunch, Batman, and Bewitched.

(I think Elizabeth Montgomery was my first crush. Can you blame me?)

By the time Kid 1 and I sat down to dinner (DW is away, this week), I was humming The Monkees theme son. "Do you know this song?" I asked her.

"No, should I?"

"Have you heard of The Monkees?" I countered.

She paused for a moment. "Is their name spelled with two Es?"

"Yes."

"I might have heard of them but I don't know anything about them."

So I explained the show and how these four young men came to be a big hit in North America, including the controversy around the fact that other people wrote their songs and other musicians played the instruments. I told them that the show was very goofy, but in a fun way, and that the music was fantastic.

We looked them up on YouTube and played a full episode on our big TV screen. The show was about how a TV producer was looking for a hip musical band to star in his upcoming show, and he accidentally hears a song on a reel-to-reel, falls in love with the sound, and wants to hire that band for his show.

Only, he doesn't know the band on the tape (but the audience does—surprise!).

Meanwhile, several other bands have been invited to audition for the show, but Davy, Mikey, Peter, and Mike aren't invited, so they try to contact the producer to get him to listen to them. And every attempt fails in a silly way.

In the end, the boys meet with the producer who says he wants to sign them to his show, and asks them to perform his show's theme song. He gets his secretary to sing a bit of the song to The Monkees, and when he hears her voice, the producer changes his mind and hires his secretary.

As I said, goofy. But when "Papa Gene's Blues" started playing, I joined in, much to Kid 1's surprise (surprised me too: it's been decades since I've heard that song).

After the show ended, we looked at a few more shorter videos or their songs, including an appearance on The Tonight Show, from 2001, minus Mike Nesmith. We also played the excerpt from a show where they sing "Daydream Believer," which is my favourite Monkees song.

"Oh, I know this song," said Kid 1.

"Really?"

"I've heard you sing this song around the house," she said. "This is the first time I've heard the original version."

I stayed quiet so she could take it in. It's very possible that she caught me singing this song around the house, though it would have been many years ago. A couple of months ago, when no one was home, I tried to sing it, to see if I could cover it for a karaoke night, but my vocal chords can no longer do the chorus.

I love that Kid 1 likes to share in some of the nostalgia that I have for some of these old TV shows. Years ago, DW and I got both kids hooked on Bewitched, and we watched the whole series. We even saw the pilot and the earliest episodes, which I had never seen before.

I finally learned how Samantha had told Darrin about her special powers, and I even saw some actors who I didn't know at the time but who became another staple of my early TV years (James Doohan comes to mind).

And, yeah, I still had a crush on Elizabeth Montgomery.

Happy Monday!

I Come from the Land of the Ice and Snow

At least, nine percent of me does.

For years, I've talked about the family members that I do know, and of a family member with whom I've recently reunited. But I know very little of either side of my family: neither mother's side nor father's side.

So, during the last Amazon Prime Days, DW talked me into purchasing a DNA kit from Ancestry. She had purchased one for herself several years ago and learned much about her roots.

Before the DNA test, I had been told that I had mostly English and French blood in me, with a bit of Welsh and a wee dram of Scots blood, as well.

Turns out that I don't even have a drop of Scottish blood in me. No matter: I still love Scotland.

My DNA has broken my genes into a few categories, as follows:

• 72 percent England and Northwestern Europe
• 10 percent Ireland (I have more Irish blood in me than DW!)
• 7 percent Sweden and Denmark
• 5 percent France
• 4 percent Wales
• 2 percent Norway

I was saddened to learn that I have no genetic ties to Scotland, as I said, and quite surprised (pleasantly) that I have Irish blood. But most surprising of all was my ties to Sweden, Denmark, and Norway.

Apparently, I have Viking roots.

France was no surprise to me but now I know which region of the country my ancestors made home. I've visited three of these countries and even the three regions within England, Wales, and France. I plan to visit Ireland and Iceland in the next few years, and even DW and I have talked about going to Norway just this past month (we both have a bit of Norwegian DNA).

I also learned more about my paternal grandfather, Sydney, who was born in 1893, in Bristol, England, and died on October 18, 1941. I knew nothing about when and where he was born and only guessed at when he died: all I know was that my dad was only two years old at the time.

I'm trying to piece together my family tree and suddenly, it's grown more branches. I may have found great grandparents but I'd like to get some confirmation from other family members.

Also, I'm having trouble on my mom's side because the name she thought she had doesn't match with what she only recently discovered was on her birth registry records. I haven't spoken to her but I'll visit her this weekend.

I've also connected with DW's side of the family, which has loads of information, but I'll leave her to maintain that side.

I don't know what I'll do with the names that also matched DNA with me. I recognized a couple of cousins and maybe, in time, I'll find more. I'm curious to see just how far back I can go.

Time will tell.

Happy Friday!

Remembering Beaumaris

Beaumaris Castle, 1991.

It hasn't changed much.

Even before I went onto Google Maps street view in The Conqueror app, I knew what the road would look like. Though it was a major thoroughfare, I imagined that they hadn't widened Beaumaris Road, that it was still a two-lane roadway with stone walls on either side.

I finished my spin bike ride and entered the results into my Garmin watch app, which automatically sent the relevant data to the virtual travel app. Though I wanted to reach the town of Beaumaris by the end of my day, the stationary bike ride didn't do it.

I'd have to rely on my daily steps to get me the rest of the way.

But I did look at where I was on the route before adding up my steps, and Beaumaris Road hadn't changed a bit. I was still about five kilometres away from my ultimate destination, and I had completed more than four through the day, already.

The last time that I was in Wales, in real life, was in 1991, with DW. We had started in London, made our way to Stratford-upon-Avon, and entered Wales between Shrewsbury and Chester, making our first stop at Valle Crucis Abbey before continuing on to Conwy, in the north.

So far, during my virtual trek, I've revisited a couple of places from our real adventure: Conwy and Bangor. Crossing over to the Isle of Anglesey, I was approaching my next destination, Beaumaris.

As I readied for bed, I saw that I was just a couple of hundred metres away from the app's milestone marker, so I marched on the spot to cover that distance. Once I reached that marker, I entered my steps and got ready to see the town.

However, the milestone only put me at the western outskirts of the town, and I had nearly another kilometre before I would reach the actual town and the spot where I really wanted to be: outside the castle.

DW and I had originally made our way to Beaumaris Castle late one afternoon, only to discover that we were too late to get in, and that the gates had closed a short time earlier. We made our way to Bangor, where there was a campground for us to spend the night.

We ended up returning to the castle the next morning.

It took me a couple of attempts on the app to make it to the castle, which is on the eastern end of the town, before the roadway bends northward. I walked around the room, watching my watch count up distances, entered them into the app, and then checked the map. And repeated four times.

Finally, I reached the familiar spot.

There's now a large car park to the northeast of the castle, where I had once only seen sheep in a field. The rest of the town hadn't seemed to change, otherwise.

Sheep surrounding the castle remains, 1991.

The Conqueror Virtual Challenge now has me following the eastern shores of the Isle of Anglesey, circumnavigating the coastline in a counter-clockwise direction before I cross back onto the mainland and continue west, toward Caernarfon, another spot that brings back fond memories.

Happy Thursday!

Upstairs View

I might have missed this view, had the York Steps not been temporarily closed.

Usually those wide stairs would have been the fastest and most convenient way to get from the ByWard Market to Major's Hill Park, which had been my original destination last week, where I had initially planned to capture photos of the Grands Feux du Casino fireworks. But with them temporarily closed for construction, I had to take another flight of stairs that I had almost forgotten had existed.

Between the Connaught Building (Canada Revenue Agency) and a condominium building lies a narrow set of stairs that lead from Sussex Drive to Mackenzie Avenue. For those with mobility issues, there's even an elevator that can take you up and down his small slope.

As I approached the base of the stairs, I was met with a view of one of the castle-like towers of the Chateau Laurier hotel. With golden hour upon me, the light struck me in such a way that I had to stop and take a photo.

Ottawa has great surprises at unexpected moments, and that's what I love about this city.

Happy Wednesday!

Hiding

"What are you doing with your face?" DW asked me about a week ago.

"Quite literally, nothing."

About a month ago, I decided to stop shaving. Or, rather, I simply stopped shaving. I don't think that there was any thought process to it. My electric razor needed a recharge, which I promptly fulfilled by plugging it in for a day. When it was fully recharged, I returned it to its drawer in the bathroom and essentially didn't touch it for almost a week.

When my neck was getting scraggly and itchy, I pulled out the shaver and trimmed only the areas beyond my jawline. And that's it. There was no conscious decision: I had merely removed the whiskers that were bothering me.

It wasn't until nearly three weeks had gone by without clearing the fuzz from my face that DW spoke up. She doesn't like beards. Never has.

After another week went by, she broached the subject again.

"Are you hiding your face?"

"What do you mean?" I countered.

"You know, your dad."

For a couple of months, I've been periodically complaining to DW that every time I look in the mirror, I no longer see myself. I see my dad.

My cheeks are a bit rounder and I'm starting to accumulate jowls. For a long time, my belly has been round, though I've recently started working on that.

I've got his short legs but thankfully my torso follows my mom's side of the family, and I'm about three or four inches taller than my dwarfy dad. I always hoped that my face would be more like those of my uncles—my mom's brothers—who I always thought had that striking, French trait.

Instead, my face has become pretty full-on Brown.

I know it's petty but I've never considered my dad to be a good-looking man. It might be due to him always referring to himself as a "handsome devil," to which I silently replied, "Really??"

So yes, part of my plan to loose the belly fat is to avoid having my dad's frame. I've never considered myself particularly good looking but liked to think I got a good balance of both parents' facial features.

When I started wearing glasses, full time, I started seeing more of my dad in my bathroom reflection. But ever since I've let my facial hair grow out, I see less of him.

I don't see more of me, either, but for the first time in months, I don't mind greeting this face in a mirror.

DW doesn't like the beard but I do. And I think, for the now, it's here to stay.

Not hiding at all.

On the Ottawa River

The first time that DW and I put our kayaks on the Ottawa River, it was 2021 and I planned to make a video that showed our exploits.

It was a beautiful July day and there was surprisingly little traffic on the water. We put our kayaks in at the Port de plaisance Jacques-Cartier – Marina de Hull, on the Gatineau side of the Ottawa River, near the Alexandra Bridge.

We planned to paddle around the Museum of Civilization and work our way as far upstream as the current would allow us, toward the Chaudière Falls, and we actually got pretty far, paddling under the Zibi Interzip lines, between the Portage Bridge and the Chaudière Bridge, before the current of the falls stopped us in our tracks and turned us around.

We then paddled around Victoria Island, coming very close to the base of the Mill Street Brew Pub, before making our way toward Parliament Hill, the Rideau Locks, and finally, the Rideau Falls before turning back to the put-in spot.

I managed to capture some good video, including some zip-liners who passed overhead. But when we got to the Rideau Locks, my 360-degree camera locked up and stopped working. I didn't get any video footage of the falls (though, I did capture some photos with my smartphone).

About a month ago, we set out on the Ottawa River again, this time with our Paddlefolk, and this time, we put our kayaks in the river at the Rockcliffe Boathouse, which lies below the Rockcliffe Lookout and the residence of the ambassador to the U.S.

Our route took us upstream, past many popular landmarks along the Ottawa River, including the Rideau Falls, and we continued all the way to the base of Parliament Hill, near the locks of the Rideau Canal, before heading back.

This time, I was able to capture all of it on video. Have a look:

This will be the last kayaking video for a while, until I put together some videos from DW's and my Costa Rica adventure, which I've almost all but forgotten.

If you like my videos, please hit the thumbs-up button. Also, subscribe to my channel to help me out. Doing so will also let you know when the first Costa Rica video comes out, if you're interested in seeing it.

Though, I'm sure I'll share it here, too (but please subscribe, anyway!).

Happy Monday!

Background

It was worth a shot.

I overestimated how big Wednesday night's fireworks display would be. I ended up missing half of them, because Spain's entrance into the Grands Feux du Casino show was by obstructed by the buildings that I wanted to have in the foreground.

I never like to capture fireworks from the same spot, and so every year, I come up with ideas about where I want to stand to capture the annual summer event.

Last year, I went to the point at Richmond Landing, along with dozens of other photographers. It's a good place to capture clear views of the light show but there aren't many landmarks to complement the shots. I could get the twin spires of Notre Dame Basilica Cathedral and the National Gallery of Canada, in Lowertown, but they're so far away in the shot.

The reflective lights of these buildings on the water, though, were nice and added a bit more to the fireworks photos.

I thought it might be nice to stand near the Colonel John By statue in Major's Hill Park, behind the Chateau Laurier, and so that's where I first went. But when I arrived, I decided that the angle wouldn't be right: I'd just get his backside.

I walked along the western edge of the park, scoping out the view of the Ottawa River, below, but I wasn't keen on the view of the Gatineau side of the river, with all of the ugly government office buildings.

And then I remembered a photo that I took, last fall, of the East Block building on Parliament Hill. One shot I particularly liked was one where I have the tower of the East Block, standing before the Peace Tower, which was behind. If I could get fireworks surrounding these two buildings, it could look good.

So off I went.

As I approached the building from the same direction as I had shot last fall, I noticed that the East Block seemed to fill the foreground and I wondered how much of the display I would see. But I hoped that the fireworks would be high enough that it wouldn't be an issue.

I set up my camera and tripod next to a streetlamp on the edge of Elgin Street, just a short distance from where westbound traffic on Wellington hang a left turn, around the Cenotaph. In composing my shot, I ensured that I had lots of room to capture the fireworks display.

When the show started, several fireworks went off just behind the East Block, and my heart sank. I picked the wrong spot, I told myself. Maybe, I had enough time to cross Elgin, run to the south side of Wellington, and capture the fireworks across from the Centre Block.

There were two tower cranes above the Centre Block building, one on either side of the Peace Tower. I really didn't want them in my shot, as they are very difficult to erase, in post production, without messing up the streams of fireworks, behind them.

So I stayed put.

As with most fireworks displays that I've witnessed, there are usually big explosions in the middle of the show and a very large display at the end. I only needed a couple of shots, so I waited.

There were some explosions of light that occurred above the roofline of the East Block, but they made the corner tower stand well above them, and so I wasn't interested in keeping the shots that I took. But there were several displays that went high, not only appearing to the right of the East Block tower but emerging from behind the Peace Tower, as well.

When the show was over and I returned home, I looked at the photos on my SD card. Many of the fireworks themselves are good but there were only three photos that gave me the results that I was seeking.

Here's my favourite of those.

I don't know if I'll catch any more of the Grands Feux du Casino this year (there are only three shows left—this Saturday, next Wednesday, and the following Saturday) but if I do, I already have come up with a couple of new spots to try out.

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: Jam Stand

This is not the beer I've had before.

Raspberries are my favourite fruit. I start almost every morning with a frozen smoothie that contains frozen chunks of pineapple, frozen organic blueberries, and frozen raspberries. Lots of raspberries.

A few years ago, when I spied a few beers that featured raspberries, I had to give them a try. One of my favourite of these ales was a raspberry Berliner weisse by Nickel Brook. You can read my review of that beer on my old Beer O'Clock blog.

Because I can sometimes be a love 'em and then leave 'em kind of guy when it comes to beer—I mean, come on, I like to spread the love around—I haven't had that beer in many years.

But last month, while I was challenging myself to a Dry July, another Ottawa beer guy, who I have befriended on Threads, shared a post about a raspberry wheat ale from Nickel Brook. He posted a photo and while I didn't recognize the can in which it came (the brew I had came in a bottle), the contents of his glass rang a bell.

Was this the same brew, I wondered?

Last weekend, when I was no longer going dry, I made a stop at my friendly neighbourhood LCBO, and I found this can. I noticed that the label also read that vanilla and hibiscus had been added with the raspberries, so I knew that this was not the same wheat ale.

And here we are.

Raspberry Jam Stand Berliner Weisse (4.5% ABV)
Nickel Brook Brewing Company
Burlington ON

Appearance: pours a clear and effervescent, pinkish-red, with a pale, pinkish-white, foamy head that sits thick in the glass but quickly settles to a thin lace.

Nose: the vanilla lead the path into my nostrils, followed by lush raspberries and a slightly floral follow-up. The ingredients that were listed on the label certainly didn't disappoint.

Palate: this time, the raspberries lead the charge but were quickly accompanied by generous amounts of vanilla, giving a sweet mouthfeel. The finish was medium in length but was backed up by the hibiscus. It was a definite treat for the taste buds.

Overall impression: this iteration of Nickel Brook's Berliner Weisse is a stroke of genius. A pure masterpiece. Reading my tasting notes from the old raspberry wheat ale, the brewmasters have definitely elevated what was already a great summer smash.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺🍺

I'll definitely be grabbing more of this fruity ale. You should grab some, too. Thanks to Mr. Smith for bringing this excellent ale to my attention.

Cheers!

Conquering It

Perhaps last week's news was a bit of a wake-up call.

Sure, my cholesterol is high but what really made me think was how badly I let myself get out of shape. My gut has increased and a lot of my muscle mass has turned to flab because I've slowed down my exercise: first, because of the reduced capacity of my lungs and second, because of the injury to my right foot.

After I left the doctor's office, I started thinking seriously about my recent habits. I work at a desk all day, and when I finish work, I move to our family room, where I usually sit in my favourite chair and turn on the TV.

I'll sometimes help prepare dinner and I'm the one who usually cleans the kitchen afterwards. But then I return to my chair and watch more television until it's time to work on my blog, which involves more sitting at a desk.

When my blog is done, I may tinker some more on the computer but I usually head upstairs, get into my pajamas, and crawl into bed. The next day, I start that routine all over again.

On most weekends, I'm my most active. I mow the lawn, get some chores done around the house, and run errands. DW and I will, however, get together with our Paddlefolk and hit the waterways in our kayaks.

So, at least, there's been a bit of exercise. But not enough.

After my visit to the doctor, I was determined to change this destructive routine. The very next morning, I got on my bike, despite the heatwave that our city had been under. I got out early enough to beat the extreme heat of the day, but it was still hot and humid.

I cycled the route that I call my 'skinny 8,' a 43-kilometre trek to Manotick, down toward Osgoode along River Road, back up to Manotick along Rideau Valley Drive, crossing the Rideau a third time, and heading north, along River Road, to the Vimy Memorial Bridge, where I cross the Rideau to get back home.

I have been avoiding this route because I was unsure that my lungs could handle it, but I took a couple of puffs of my emergency inhaler before I hit the route, and I was fine.

On Sunday, I did some chores around the house, and DW and I ran some errands. Not a lot of exercise was involved but I did get in a couple of kilometres of walking.

On Monday, I tuned into an Apple TV workout video and did some exercises that worked on my core. The routine was a bit of a challenge but I got through it. The only real hassle was that I needed DW's phone to get the program to work. Afterwards, I searched on YouTube and found a couple of exercise channels that I'll try today, after work.

That evening, I realized that I'll probably need some motivation so that I don't slip into my old, poor routine, so I signed up for a Conqueror Virtual Challenge. It's been almost a year since I've completed one of these challenges, and I realized how much I had used them to keep a steady workout regimen.

I've signed up for a 1,300-kilometre trek along the coastline of Wales. DW and I did much of this route, by car, in the early 1990s. I thought it would be great to virtually revisit some of the places that we visited all those years ago.

Yesterday, after work, I got on my bike again and did my skinny-8 ride. The weather was much better and I had a great ride. I added my first distance to the Wales virtual trek, and weather permitting, I hope to ride every other day.

On the off days, I'll work on my core and strength building with dumbbells.

My goal, apart from getting healthier and helping mitigate my cholesterol levels, is to lose my extra gut by December, when DW and I join some friends in Akumal Bay, Mexico.

Wish me luck.

Paddling to Lil Pump-er

When Kid 2 adopted a kitten, she gave it the name 'Little Pumpernickel,' partly because of its colouring. She shortened the name to 'Lil Pump' but shortened the name, even further, to Lily.

When Kid 2 learned that there was an American rapper who went by the name 'Lil Pump,' she was fuming. "I came up with that name first," she screamed.

(Actually, he beat Lily by three years.)

But this naming issue is not what this post is about. Not really.

DW, the kids, and I first passed by an abandoned boat when we canoed from Kingston to Ottawa, along the Rideau Lakes system, in 2013. We had been paddling from Rideau River Provincial Park, on this leg of our journey, and we wanted to get to the lockstation at Long Island, in Manotick, before dinner, so we didn't stop to investigate the tug-shaped ship, anchored among reeds on the east bank of the Rideau River.

It wasn't until the summer of 2021 that I returned to the Rideau River and revisited the boat. This time, in my kayak.

I was alone on that late-day paddle but I hoped that DW would join me to explore it again, this time with my video camera.

That day came in mid to late June, when our Paddlefolk joined us in Kars.

The day was grey and threatened rain but we didn't care. It was only 1.5 kilometres from the put-in, on Stevens Creek, to the S.S. Pumper, an early 20th-century, wood-fired steamship.

We spent some time at the abandoned ship, all the while I kept referring to it as 'Lil Pump.' In my head, I was thinking of Lily, but when I made my YouTube video, I make a reference to the rapper.

I don't know his music or anything about him, really, but it doesn't matter. For me, it's a tribute to Kid 2's cat.

Have a watch (it's only five-and-a-half minutes).

If you like my video, please give it a thumbs-up and consider subscribing to my channel. I'll have a new video next week.

Happy Tuesday!