Flashback Friday: Posers

In 2011, social media was still pretty new to me. Sure, I had been running a blog since 2008 (not this blog, which I started in 2011) but I really didn't get into Twitter until early in that year.

In 2011, Twitter was in its glory days.

But once I started on social media—Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and Untappd—I was hooked. I seemed to spend all my free time checking out what I had missed since the last time I put my phone to my face.

Kid 1, who was as sharp as a tack (and still is), noticed that I was missing life around me while I was looking for what was going on in the social-media universe. And she pointed out that I was addicted to my phone while we were on vacation, in Cape Cod, in 2011.

For the most part, I was taking shots of our vacation, but instead of taking the snap and moving on, I had to edit it right away and post it on Twitter, or Instagram, or Facebook. And for her, it was getting to be too much.

So she had an idea for a picture I could take: DW would be looking up at something interesting, while I would be on my phone and Kid 1 was looking at the camera that was capturing this scene, all while pointing out that I was on my phone and pouting about it.

Kid 2 took the shot.

I still use my phone a lot but not nearly to the extent that I was in 2011. For one, I'm no longer on Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook. And though I'm on Bluesky, I don't post nearly as often as I did on Twitter.

Also, I haven't used Untappd as a social-media app in years, as I follow no one and don't let anyone view me (it's strictly a way for me to keep track of the various brews I've consumed).

I even have a tracker on my phone to let me know when I'm on the screen too often in a day.

We'll be going on a family vacation in about two months. I'm confident that we won't have to recreate this pose again.

Happy Friday!

I'm Done

Within days, I just wasn't feeling it.

I love Wales. Though I have only been there once, and that was more than 30 years ago, it has left an impression on me that hasn't faded. The beauty of the landscape and the kindness of the people will stay with me forever.

When I completed the Te Araroa trek of The Conqueror Virtual Challenge, I told myself that I didn't feel inclined to participate in another of these virtual journeys: not, unless, I discovered one that would be so enticing that I couldn't refuse it.

Nearly a year later, one challenge caught my attention and made me think of my short but memorable time in Wales: the Wales Coast Path. The 1,300-kilometre trail would take me past Conwy, Beaumaris, Caernarfon, Harlech, Cardiff, and more, before ending in Chepstow—all places that DW and I visited all those years ago.

I started the trek at the beginning of August, last year, and put some actual kilometres on my bike, in my kayak, and on foot while I virtually covered the norther coast of Wales. I was making good progress, confident that I'd be able to complete the challenge in 10 weeks.

But on the Isle of Anglesey, just past Beaumaris, I lost interest.

Not of Wales. The country of my ancestors still holds a piece of my heart and I hope to someday return. But the virtual challenge had lost its appeal.

I would go for days without logging my progress. And disagreeable weather kept me off my bike more times than I would have liked.

As the 10-week timeframe approached, I moved out the time period to 14 weeks. Then, 16. Then, 20. Then, 26. Less than halfway into the challenge, I was logging only my daily steps toward my goal.

I still enjoyed seeing the Welsh countryside when I logged a distance and then saw, through Google street view in the app, where I was in the countryside. But I knew that as soon as I reached the finish line, in Chepstow, I was done with the virtual challenges.

Chepstow Castle (taken when I was there, in 1991).

I reached the finish line, outside Chepstow Castle, on March 3, 210 days after starting the challenge. It took me 30 weeks to complete it.

I won't be getting a medal for this one. When I had signed up, I learned that the company that creates the app had changed their model, and that you have to pay extra to get a medal at the end of the challenge.

No thanks.

As soon as I reached the finish line, I deleted the app from my phone. I'm done.

It doesn't mean I'm going to stop being active (though, I haven't been as active as I usually am, if I'm being honest). I do need to exercise and get in shape for our upcoming vacation, in May, when I'll be performing an actual challenge, with lots of hiking and climbing.

I won't get a medal for that challenge, either, but the rewards will be far greater.

This is 60

Cupcakes and Karaoke

I couldn't help but have a flashback.

I wrote about this before, when I had a birthday party and decided to pick up a microphone and sing while friends danced around me. But that party was 52 years ago.

A couple of days ago, I celebrated turning 60. It wasn't my actual birthday: that's this coming Wednesday. Like in 1973, because my birthday is on a weekday, we held the celebration the weekend before.

DW asked me what I wanted to do to mark the end of my sixth decade and I said that I wanted to be surrounded by family and friends, to be with the people who mattered so much to me. We talked about reserving space at a favourite brewery, as it would have the space to accommodate everyone, and I liked that idea.

Secretly, she had already contacted Conspiracy Theory Brewery, as I had been frequenting the place, as of late, but when she told me, I was reluctant. While I liked going to Conspiracy Theory for karaoke, it wasn't a favourite brewery, nor even in my top 10 for Ottawa. Sure, they had the space but it wasn't quite the spot I had in mind.

Luckily, she hadn't made any solid plans and had only had a brief conversation with Paul Card, the owner. As it turned out, Conspiracy Theory, itself, wouldn't be around for my birthday celebration, anyway.

We did look at actual breweries that I love, and one didn't seem to have any event planned for March 1, so we reached out. DW had me compose the e-mail message, since they knew me and had once done something really nice for my birthday, a couple of years ago.

Unfortunately, when Melissa responded to me, she told me that they did, in fact, have a live show scheduled for March 1, and that it hadn't yet been added to their Web site. She said that the band was interactive with its audience and was a lot of fun, but I didn't really want to have a live band at my party, especially since I didn't know them, and so I thanked her but said I'd look elsewhere.

(I ordered some beer from them the next day.)

I had only been to Hummingbird Hall once, before we started discussing my party, and I already liked it. When we considered it as a party venue, I was practically sold.

Again, DW had me reach out to Dan, the manager of Hummingbird Hall, since we had already met, though only once, and he'd only remember me if he recognized Brown Knowser in my e-mail address and associate it with the person known as Brown Knowser at the previous karaoke night.

While I didn't want a live band at my party, I thought it might be fun to have karaoke. Lots of my friends like to sing and have done karaoke before. I'd be able to mingle with my friends between getting up on stage to sing, myself.

I put in the request, including lining up a KJ, and waited. Dan got back to me fairly quickly, gave me a quote for renting the room, with him running the bar, and for the KJ and the sound person.

And that was it. We were booked.

There were cupcakes. There were nibblies. There was singing. There was dancing. There was mingling and catching up with friends. Some family and friends came all the way from Toronto to help me celebrate. Kid 2 and my younger sister, who live in Toronto, made the trip to be here.

I'm so lucky. I was surrounded by love.

Photo credit: Marc Dufour

Photo credit: Marc Dufour

This was the first birthday party I had since my 50th, where we did gather for a live show, featuring my music idol, Midge Ure. It'll likely be the last one until my 70th birthday, should I make it that far.

But this party will go down as one of the best, far exceeding my eighth party (where some of my friends from 1973 were back to celebrate again).

This time, the mic was plugged in.

Photo credit: Mom

Peep Show

DW and I aren't sure why, but for more than six months, we've been receiving the BritBox streaming service, even though we haven't subscribed and aren't paying the monthly fee.

We're not complaining.

A couple of years ago, DW did subscribe to BritBox so that we could watch our favourite crime series, Shetland, and also so that we could check out other programs. But as soon as we were finished catching up on Shetland, we cancelled the subscription.

We had planned to renew our subscription when a new season of Shetland started up, but life got in the way and we never got around to it. We received reminders of the latest Shetland on our Apple TV box but did nothing about it.

Finally, about six months ago, DW and I decided that it was time to renew our BritBox subscription and clicked on the Shetland tile in our Up Next list on the Apple TV box. And, to our surprise, we weren't prompted to subscribe to the channel: instead, the show just started up.

We expected to see a charge on our credit card or on DW's Apple account, but one never came. And so we continued to watch it for free.

We've discovered many other shows but one that we stumbled upon is a comedy called Peep Show. No, it's not what you think but the title did make me think it was and, out of curiosity, I clicked it.

The series, which started in 2003, follows two dysfunctional friends who share an apartment in the South London community of Croydon. Mark Corrigan, played by David Mitchell, is an awkward finance manager, while his friend, Jeremey Jez Usbourne (Robert Webb) is an unemployed, second-rate musician.

The two friends seem to be polar opposites yet share the same awkwardness. And there are other recurring characters that add to the chaos. Olivia Coleman is a regular whose character, Sophie Chapman, is Mark's love interest.

Peep Show is addictive, and DW and I are almost finished the ninth season, which is the latest. We're not sure if it's the final season, as the show ended its run in 2015, but it seems to be the final season that is available on BritBox.

The theme song, Flagpole Sitta, by Harvey Danger, gets in my head and stays there for hours.

We've also watched a lot of other crime shows, such as The Bay, Unforgotten, Vera, and many, many more. Now that we've cancelled nearly all of our American streaming services—Prime, Paramount+, Disney+, Netflix—we've really cut down on our TV consumption but hope that BritBox remains.

And if they eventually start charging us, I think we'd be happy to pay.

When I Couldn't Sleep

It was going to be sunrise in about an hour and I hadn't slept all night.

I had been writing fiction, working on a story that would become part of a trilogy. My head was full of ideas and I was trying to figure out some broken ties. Though I had stopped typing—yes, I used a typewriter in 1989—my brain was still working away.

I also missed my girlfriend. We had only started dating a few months earlier but we had known each other for about a year before then. Shortly after we started our relationship, she had told me that she had a summer job, up in Northern Ontario, planting trees, and she would be away for two months.

Little did either of us know that she would later become DW.

With the story tumbling around my head and thoughts of my absent girlfriend, it was no wonder I couldn't fall asleep. And, finally noticing the time and realizing that the sun would be up soon, I decided to grab my camera, jump in my car, and drive.

I had no set destination. It wasn't uncommon for me to go for long drives in my '85 Pontiac Sunbird. I'd just get behind the wheel and go, letting each intersection randomly take me left, right, or straight on through.

In 1989, Barrhaven was considered way out in the boonies. So when I passed it and continued along Fallowfield Drive, toward vast farm fields, I was far from home. But it wasn't the furthest a random drive had taken me.

One time, I drove until I found myself along the St. Lawrence River, at the Ogdensburg bridge, and I decided to cross into the U.S.. Back then, a passport wasn't required; just a valid driver's license.

"Where are you headed?" the American border agent asked me.

"Just going for a drive."

"Just a drive?"

"Yes. I might stop and take some photos." I always had my camera bag in the back seat, just in case I saw something and wanted to capture it.

"You aren't looking to sell any camera gear, are you?" the border agent asked, looking suspiciously into the back of my car.

"Not at all. I just thought I'd drive along the south shore of the St. Lawrence, stop and take any photos along the way."

"How long do you plan to be driving?"

"Not long." It was already about 8:00 in the evening. I didn't want to be out all night.

The border agent waved me through. I got to Highway 37 and headed eastward, stopping in Waddington, New York, where I stopped to photograph an old church that was lit up in an eerie orange glow. I continued through Massena, which, at that hour, seemed closed up for the night, and crossed back into Canada at Cornwall.

Those were the easy days, when there was no questions for a 20-something out for a ride, crossing international borders. But I had an innocent face, to boot.

But on the day where I stayed up and went for a pre-dawn drive, I knew that no matter how much my Sunbird wanted to take me far away—maybe, as far as to see my girlfriend—I was going to stay relatively close to home.

I had to be at work for 9:00.

As I drove past Barrhaven, some fog was rolling in, sometimes thick enough to obscure the road ahead. Absolutely, I wasn't going to wander far in these conditions.

I made it as far as the village of Fallowfield and stopped near the united church, which, unlike the similar church in Waddington, was shrouded in darkness. Only it's outline was visible against the coming blue-hour light.

I took a few photos but felt the chill of the fog in the air, which was getting thicker as dawn drew nearer. Across the road, I captured the grain silos of Valleyview Farm. I even took some photos of my car, at the side of the road, in front of this scene.

The sun was going to be up at any moment and I had an idea for a shot I wanted to take. I climbed back into my Sunbird and raced back to Barrhaven.

In 1989, Barrhaven was relatively small. Farm fields occupied a lot of the land between Greenbank and Woodroffe, along Fallowfield Road. There was a small shopping mall near the railway crossing but not much else, once you crossed that spot. And Fallowfield Road was only a narrow, two-lane street.

I pulled to the side of the road, hopeful that my flashing taillights would alert anyone coming from behind. The fog was extremely dense, which made my photo plans perfect.

The sun had risen above the horizon and had lifted only a bit, but it was at a perfect height. I moved so that it was immediately behind the railway-crossing barrier and took my shot.

Within a minute or two, the first car of the morning made its way toward the crossing, coming from the east. Also, in the late 80s, this part of Fallowfield Road didn't see much traffic. The car had a burned-out headlight, giving it some character, so I took a wider-angled shot.

Satisfied with my work (but not knowing exactly how any shots turned out because this was before the digital age), I returned to my car and made my way homeward, stopping only once to capture another foggy-sunrise-silhouette shot. I was home before 6:30.

Plenty of time for a short nap before my alarm would sound, reminding me it was time to get ready for work.

Happy Thursday!

Papa's Toy & Total Chaos

I've started revisiting some of the slides that I shot decades ago and digitally scanned about a dozen years ago, but haven't touched since.

After I had scanned the slides, I concentrated on the ones that were my favourite, working hard to bring them to digital life. I've already shared those photos in various blog posts, back then.

But because I do a random search for photos, which I share on my Bluesky account, I'm running into more of these images that I had simply scanned and stored. Looking through my feed, I literally did nothing with them, as the vertically oriented images appear in my file folders on their sides.

I wasn't even careful when scanning these B-list slides, as many are covered in dust.

But now, I'm having a second look at these images that I even didn't care too much about after I had initially captured them. At the very least, I'm turning the vertically shot images the right way up.

With some, however, I've digitally removed the dust and applied some photo editing to up the contrast and vibrancy, or even applied some filters to give them a slightly more dramatic look.

In 1995, DW and I drove out east to celebrate our first anniversary. We visited places in New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and PEI. We did a mix of camping (back when I loved to camp) and staying in B&Bs.

I've already shared several images from our stay in Fundy National Park, near the small town of Alma. One of my favourite photos of all time was captured in the harbour in Alma, but there were several others that I shot at various times, as the dramatic tide came in and went out.

The following photo was part of that set but for some reason, I never paid any attention to it until I rediscovered it, near a 'random photo,' and decided to clean it up.

I still look at the photo, even cleaned and edited, and think, meh, it's okay, but I'm glad I've done something with it and can add it to my photo database. I do, however, like the names of the two prominent boats: Papa's Toy and Total Chaos.

I wonder how those boats are doing today. Are they still in service?

I'll clean up more photos and share them in the future. Actually, I'll share a couple more, tomorrow, for another Throwback Thursday post. Stay tuned.

Happy Wednesday!

Shopping with Care

I'm the first to admit that I'm pretty fortunate. Both DW and I have good jobs and a roof over our heads, with not one but two vehicles, even though we're now both working from home.

(We've all but given our CR-V to Kid 1.)

When we go shopping, I'm notorious for not looking at the price tag in the grocery stores. If I saw something that I wanted, I simply put it in the cart. We're not rich by any stretch of the imagination but we're comfortable enough that we can afford most things that we want.

But lately, I've been paying attention when I go to the stores. Not by looking at the price sticker, particularly, but looking at where the item is from.

I wrote about this, last week, and how I've started using an app that helps me determine if something is a product of Canada, made in Canada, or not from Canada. But I was using that app at stores where I already shopped, and it helped me determine whether I put the item in my cart or back on the shelf.

Last weekend, DW and I were doing our weekly grocery run, and I had noted that we were getting low on bar soap and that I was getting to the end of my tube of toothpaste (yes, we have our own preferences in toothpaste so have our own tubes). But when we went to pick up our usual brand, we discovered that it was made in the U.S.. Same with our second preference.

Apparently, Irish Spring soap is made in Canada but I prefer unscented soaps, or at least soaps with a mild scent. And because both Crest and Colgate are American companies, we needed to find alternatives to our toothpaste.

We also discovered that the cat food that we usually buy is a product of the U.S.A. so it's also now off our list.

Luckily, there are stores near the Barrhaven Costco that offer a solution to our shopping dilemma.

Natural Food Pantry has at least five locations throughout the Ottawa area and offers lots of Canadian products, including soaps and toothpaste. We bought a bar of olive-oil soap as well as a pumice soap from Woodbridge (Ontario) company The Soap Works. These soaps also come without packaging, though there are tiny, brown-paper bags that they supply for you to carry their soaps home.

For toothpaste, we found Green Beaver, from Hawkesbury, about 90 minutes east of Ottawa. They make all sorts of personal-care products from natural ingredients. I grew up on Crest so this will be something new for me. DW chose a mint toothpaste but I decided to go for something completely different and picked the Zesty Orange.

I still have a few days' worth of my current tube of paste so I'll start the Green Beaver one later this week.

Natural Food Pantry has lots of other Canadian products, from food, beverages, and more. We also needed cocoa powder, and found the Camino brand on their shelves. It's organic and fair-trade, and we already love their chocolate.

Sure, these products cost a bit more, but as I said, I'm fortunate to not have to look at stickers very closely. And, with all of the American services and subscriptions that we've recently cancelled, we're still ahead of the game.

For cat food, we're lucky that there's a pet store next door to Natural Food Pantry. Ren's Pets is a Canadian company that has many Canadian-made items for your pets. We found Go! Solutions cat food, which is available in lots of flavours and formulae for any type or age of cat.

Now, here, DW and I did pay attention to the price. It's about double the cost of the generic food that we were buying at Costco but the ingredients are better and more specific to our cats' needs. At least there was a 10-percent discount on the bag and, because we signed up for Ren's rewards program, we'll save $10 on our next bag.

Most importantly, though, we're supporting a Canadian business, which is something that I feel is worth the extra cost.

And, judging by how Cece started chewing through the bag after we got it home, and the other two cats started sniffing and rubbing up against the bag, we think they'll like the grain-free salmon food.

Ren's also has a Canadian-made kitty litter, by Odourlock, which DW researched and found highly rated. And while we've been buying Canadian cat litter at Costco for years, it's the dustiest litter we've ever used, even though it boasts being 'dust-free.'

Odourlock is also supposed to be dust-free so we'll pick some up as soon as our current supply runs out.

Shopping Canadian hasn't been the challenge we thought it would be, and we've found the experience to be quite liberating. It takes a little care but as soon as we find the products that we need, it's easy enough.

Where do you shop Canadian?

Strategic Voting

In all of the years that I've been able to vote, I have. Not only do I feel it's my right and privilege, but I also feel it's my duty.

For me, it's what being a responsible citizen is. Not voting, just because you don't like any of the candidates or because you feel that your vote won't make a difference is, in my opinion, irresponsible.

If you don't like any of the candidates, vote against who you absolutely don't want to win. Just think about what that might have done in the United States with its last federal election.

I work for a global company where some of my colleagues, with whom I work directly, live in the U.S.. On the day after the November election, when I was chatting with them before a meeting, two of them said that they didn't vote because, while they didn't want the Orange Felon to win, there were policies that they didn't like with Kamala Harris.

Idiots.

The United States is a two-party system. Either A is going to get in or B is going to make it into the White House. If you don't want B to get in, you ensure that by voting for A, regardless of your feelings for certain policies.

The only way to keep one person from winning is to vote for the other person.

For those two colleagues who didn't vote, while I maintain a professional relationship as far as any projects we work on together, I've severed any personal banter and don't engage in chit-chat. I've lost all respect for them.

Ontario is in the midst of an election, one that was called from a premier who already had a majority government but who has somehow felt that he needed to call this election more than a year ahead of schedule and in the dead of winter.

Doug Ford won the last election, in 2022, with only 43 percent of eligible voters turning up. From the number of eligible voters, Ford won 18 percent of the vote and still reached a majority, with the Liberal party and NDP each earning 10 percent of the vote.

I think Ford is counting on Ontarians, most of whom have been recently buried under snow from two storms, on staying home again, ensuring that he wins with better but still dismal results.

Let's prove him wrong.

Remember: he's the guy who spent millions on new license plates that became hard to read at night; he spent millions on anti-carbon-tax stickers that didn't stick; he promised that he wouldn't allow development on the GTA Greenbelt, only to open it up to developers; he's spent more millions on the development of a highway that nobody needs; he's planning to spend billions on a tunnel under Highway 401, in Toronto; he's given billions to private, foreign developers, to build on the Ontario Place site; he closed the Ontario Science Museum; he's spent billions on ensuring that every Ontarian, rich or poor, gets $200 cheques (yes, even billionaire Galen Weston and Ford, himself).

Ford sat on his hands during the 2022 occupation of downtown Ottawa, which crippled our city and caused trauma for many residents in that neighbourhood. He moved slowly at the start of the pandemic, no doubt costing lives.

And let's not forget his failure to solve Ontario's housing crisis and, most of all, his negligence with our healthcare system. Ford has ads where he says that people tell him that they're sick of waiting in traffic. Well, how about those who wait for 12 hours or more in emergency wards, waiting for urgent care?

I tell you, I'd much rather be held up for a half hour in traffic than spend half a day waiting to be seen by a doctor. But sure, hand out those $200 cheques when it's going to cost Ontarians $400 to subsidize a spa that the average Ontarian won't be able to afford to visit.

Early polls show Ford and his Conservatives ahead. But we need to get them out. And it's going to take everyone getting out to vote.

We need to be strategic. Look at your riding. Look at which party—the Liberals, NDP, or Green—is most likely to beat the Conservative opponent. And vote for that party.

Overall, the Ontario Liberals seem to be in second place, in the polls. Personally, I prefer the NDP leader, Marit Stiles, and would like to see her win. But the NDP candidate in my riding, Max Blair, is an unknown entity. I've seen his signs around my neighbourhood but I don't see his presence on social media and I don't know anything about him.

On the other hand, the Liberal candidate, Tyler Watt, is ever-present on social media. He ran in the last provincial election (possibly, the last two?) and seems an extremely likeable person. He's also a healthcare worker and knows the struggles in hospitals, so he has my backing for that fact alone.

I'd love to vote NDP but I'm supporting Watt. In fact, DW, Kid 1, and I went out last Thursday and filled out our ballots at an advance-polling station.

We all need to be strategic in this election. We need to put our personal preferences aside and vote for whoever has the best shot at beating Doug Ford.

Unlike my American colleagues, we can't be idiots and stay at home.

We can't be irresponsible.

The election is this Thursday, February 27. Regardless of the weather, get out there and mark your X.

Shop Canadian

For the first time ever, DW and I got out of Costco, last Saturday, spending less than $100 on our grocery run. Our bill came to $77 and change.

We managed to still buy our essentials but there were many things that we usually get, but ended up putting them back on the shelf. Why? Because they were products of the United States.

We said no thanks to our usual case of Bubly flavoured sparkling water. We said goodbye to our mango nectar, which I usually add to my morning smoothies.

Having finished the last of the jug that we already had at home, I've switched to tap water.

Being a potato-chip junkie, we came away empty-handed.

DW and I cruised our usual route around the aisles of Costco but before anything went into the cart, we checked labels for where the product originated, and when the label was unclear, I whipped out a handy phone app.

Shop Canadian app tile.

Shop Canadian.

This app scans the UPC or QR code of a product and tells you if the item is a product of Canada, was made in Canada, or comes from elsewhere. It also relies on user input, where you can provide information about how much Canadian involvement makes up the product.

For example, a package of tea might have been made in Canada from imported leaves (as far as I know, we don't grow tea in our country). I scanned one package of tea and the app told me that the product was made in Canada, but didn't tell me how much.

I examined the box and learned that the leaves were imported but that the tea was processed, bagged, and packaged in Québec. According to the app, that gives this tea a Canadian rating of three maple leaves out of five.

Unfortunately, the package did not reveal where the leaves were sourced, but DW and I took a chance and figured that they didn't come from the U.S., so in the shopping cart it went.

It took us a little longer to get our groceries but we expect the shopping process will go faster, now that we know which of the products we used to get are no longer on our shopping list. Leaving Costco on that morning, the only things we were bringing home were Canadian and Italian.

From Costco, we went to Farm Boy. Sure, it can be a bit more expensive than some of the grocery stores in our neighbourhood but we've boycotted Loblaws, and the other stores aren't as close to home.

And, because of the manager of Farm Boy from a couple of years ago, I'm forever loyal.

Shopping in Farm Boy was easy. The signs in the produce section clearly state the origin of the food. We shopped Canadian first, Ontario second, and then any country other than the United States. A couple of things weren't clear, but the Shop Canadian app was once again useful.

Farm Boy's house sparkling water is a product of Canada, so we can kiss Bubly goodbye. Their house-brand of potato chips is 100-percent Canadian, manufactured by Covered Bridge, in New Brunswick.

Leaving Farm Boy, the only non-Canadian product we walked out with was the package of Brussels sprouts, which came from Mexico. And again, we spent under $100.

I think our shopping habits are forever changed. Going forward, DW and I are determined to shop local whenever possible. She is already searching online for Canadian alternatives to her makeup and skin products, as well as our soaps and other necessities. Of course, we won't be able to shop exclusively Canadian but we're determined to avoid American products at all costs.

We've also cancelled all of our American streaming services: Netflix, Disney+, Paramount+, Prime Video, and more. We're watching a lot of programs on CBC Gem and streaming CTV and Global.

And, of course, we have BritBox.

I think we'll be just fine, shopping anywhere but from the U.S. of A. How about you?

Way-Back Throwback

It's a part of my family that I only just learned about, recently.

My mom was going through some old photos she found and she sent my brother, sisters, and me this one:

It was taken around 1923 or 1924. In it, my great-grandmother, Florence Fairey, sits on the left; a young girl, Lena, is two or three years old, and would later become my grandmother. Sitting on the right, in a military uniform, is my great-grandfather, William Whimp, who has another young girl seated on his lap.

She's my Aunt Mae, who passed away in 2005.

But I didn't know who the young man, standing in the background, was, so I asked my mom. And, apparently, he's my great-uncle of whom I knew nothing before.

It seems that my great-grandmother had been married to a man with the last name of Wren (my mom doesn't remember his first name), and they had two children. One had died in infancy and the other, Arthur, the man in the photo, was adopted by William Whimp when he married Florence.

Sadly, Florence died a few months after this photo was taken. And, according to my mom, Arthur died a few years after that.

William remarried and my mom said that everyone in the family referred to her simply as 'Ma Whimp.' I remember meeting her once or twice but don't remember her very clearly.

Of course, I'm hoping that Ancestry will help me learn more about my distant family members. I especially hope that my mom, now in her 80s, is around to help me learn more.

Happy Thursday!

Winter in Ottawa

For the past few weekends, DW and I have tried to get out and enjoy the winter. On the very morning that the Rideau Canal Skateway opened to the public, DW and I were out there, first thing.

We've also taken in some Winterlude activities, and even got in some snowshoeing (for me) and cross-country skiing (for her). And every time we've been out, I've had some video equipment.

Over the weekend, in between heading out to the driveway, to clear away the 60-some centimetres, I would work on putting my footage together in a short video that I would later upload to my YouTube channel. Have a look.

For 2025, I've started experimenting with new fonts and titles, and I won't be using most of my choices again, in future videos. Some of the labels got lost in the white background, especially when the video is viewed on a TV screen. I also trusted the editing software to automatically apply an HDR effect to the video.

I won't be doing that again, either.

This video also marks the first time that I've used my new drone to capture some footage. I hope to make it a regular thing, going forward.

In the months before DW, our Paddlefolk, and I can get back into our kayaks, I've been thinking of making videos around Ottawa area. We'll see.

If you like my videos, please hit the Thumbs Up button. Also, do me a favour and subscribe. I'd like to see my numbers climb this year.

Happy Wednesday!

The Return of an Evening Ritual

I've finally started reading again.

I've always been an avid reader. From as early as when I learned to read, I loved finding good stories. I regularly hung out in the library at my elementary school, and even as early as the sixth grade, I decided that I wanted to be a writer.

There was a period, in high school, where I didn't want to read the books that were thrust upon us by teachers. I liked picking my own books to read and would rely on Coles Notes when it came to tests and assignments in English class.

My marks would often reflect that minimal effort. And ironically, I eventually read all of the books that I dissed and discovered that I had done myself a great disservice by not reading them when they were first introduced to me.

For most of my adult life, I've devoured books, sometimes reading around 25 a year. Even in the early days of The Brown Knowser blog, I'd make a list of books to read for the coming year and often exceed that list.

And then my reading pretty much came to a halt.

I got into other things. I'd spend more time working on this blog, or on my fiction. Or worse, I'd become a couch potato, with DW, and watch TV until it was time to go to bed. Or, even worse, I'd be on my phone, scrolling through various social-media feeds or playing silly games.

When I got into listening to podcasts, I'd do that in bed before going to sleep. It was better than watching TV or doing unimportant stuff on my phone, but it wasn't reading.

Over the past few years, I'd be lucky to read a single novel. My bookshelves held lots of unread books, but I let the dust gather on them.

Last December, when DW and I were in Mexico, I brought a book with me to read while lounging on the beach or near the pool. It was a silly book about a British comedian who travelled the world to pursue various conspiracy theories. I figured that a light, mindless read was perfect for a lazy week.

I started it on our flight to Cancun and finished the last page shortly before we landed back in Ottawa.

I enjoyed the book a lot (The Conspiracy Tourist, by Dom Joly) and it reignited my desire to return to reading.

My friend and fellow author, Peggy Blair, had recently written another crime novel, Double Vision, and I decided that I'd start my year off by reading her follow-up to her novel, Shadow Play. The sequel is Peggy's best work to date.

Being a lover of crime novels, I sought out my stack of unread books that have been gathering dust for more than a year. Normally, I would read an Ian Rankin novel as soon as it hit the book stores, but I was two novels behind (actually, I was three novels behind, with his latest, Midnight and Blue, still unpurchased).

I've finished A Song For The Dark Times and am currently into A Heart Full of Headstones. Rankin is still as brilliant as ever.

I have returned to my evening ritual, making sure the TV is done by 10. DW and I sleep in separate rooms, these days (our mutual snoring prevented both of us from having a good sleep so we've put some space between us, and it seems to work), so I can head up without waiting for her and curl up with a book as soon as I've readied myself for bed. I'll typically read until midnight.

I tend to get my blogging done during lunch breaks or on weekends, and my video editing is reserved for free weekend afternoons (not that I do it every weekend).

I find that I'm able to fall asleep faster when I read a book, rather than looking at my phone screen, so I'm hoping that this routine is back for good.

Now, I'll need some good recommendations. Leave yours in the Comments section.

Million Milestone

It happened while I was sleeping.

At the beginning of this year, when I was checking the metrics of my blog, I realized that I was very close to achieving one million views on The Brown Knowser. I was about 43,000 views away from reaching that number and guessed that I'd hit that milestone within the next couple of months.

I thought it would be nice to hit the million views in time for my birthday, which is next week, so I wrote a blog post about that wish. And, boy, my readers didn't disappoint.

Over the past year, I've had around 15,000 viewers to my blog each month. Sometimes, more; sometimes, fewer. Getting 43,000 in two months was a challenge but not impossible.

But, boy, have you come through for me.

In January, my blog was visited 34,247 times. You rock! And as February moved along, I was seeing high viewership again, and calculated that I would hit the million mark by the middle of the month.

It happened in the wee hours of Valentine's Day, while I slept. I awoke on Friday and checked my blog stats, to see that the million-viewer milestone had been exceeded.

A few hours later, I looked at the numbers again, and I was at 1,001,010 viewers. If I suffered from apophenia, I would see that the binary 1001010 represents 74, which is the age that my grandmother was when she died, some 30 years ago.

Her birthday? Valentine's Day. Coincidence?

(I really have to stop watching conspiracy theory videos on YouTube.)

Thank you for supporting my channel. While The Brown Knowser makes no money, I feel rich nevertheless. You keep me writing. You keep me looking at the world around me, keep me thinking, keep me creating.

I hope that the coming blog posts continue to entertain you. You are awesome.

Happy Monday!

Same Age

One wears it better.

Last weekend, DW and I headed out to the Rideau Canal to check out the Winterlude festivities. It wasn't our first time, this season, on the canal, as we had hit the ice on the first morning that the NCC opened it to the public, but it was the first time since our city's annual celebration had opened.

We parked in Centretown's Golden Triangle neighbourhood, not far from the Corktown Bridge. DW's plan was to skate from this pedestrian bridge to the 0-kilometre marker, near the Canadian Senate, and back, past her starting point, to Fifth Avenue, and then back again.

Because of my reconstructive foot surgery, back in 2018, my left foot no longer fits into my skate. And even if it did, there's a spot on the top of my foot, just above where a metal plate and eight screws take the spot where I once had joints, where, if any pressure is applied, causes intense pain.

Sadly, my skating days are over.

But that didn't keep me off the ice. Armed with one of my D-SLRs, I walked from the Corktown Bridge to the 0K marker and back, snapping some photos and shooting video along the way.

I'm planning to make a video of the skateway, including some Winterlude festivities, in the next week or so. Stay tuned.

By the time I returned to Corktown Bridge, I could see DW climbing the stairs toward Queen Elizabeth Drive and our car. She phoned me, wondering where I was, and I told her I was about 50 metres behind her. By the time I had ascended the stairs, she was just getting to our car, so I used the key fob to unlock the doors for her.

I told her, on the phone, that I just wanted to capture some video from atop the pedestrian bridge and would join her ASAP.

In the car, DW suggested that we drive to Ottawa City Hall, where we could park in the underground garage, and that we wander Sparks Street, where there are ice sculptures and other goings-on. It was a great idea, so off we went.

One of the sculptures celebrates the 60th anniversary of our Canadian flag. The ice is carved as a fireplace and hearth, with the number 60 carved on the mantle and our flag proudly placed like a priceless painting.

DW suggested that I stand in front of the sculpture, since I'm also turning 60 this year (in less than three weeks, as a matter of fact).

The flag is holding up much better than I am. It'll also last much longer that I will, no matter what some dipshit says.

Happy Friday!

Winterlude Wanderings

One Bag

There was a time when DW and I would travel with a couple of suitcases. On flights, we'd have one checked bag, one carry-on, and a personal item.

And we'd convince ourselves that we were still packing light.

The exception, of course, was when we moved to South Korea, in 1997, and we each had one huge suitcase, a sizable carry-on (back when airlines didn't insist in tiny suitcases), and a personal item that was almost as large as the carry-on bags are now.

Of course, back then, we needed things that would sustain us for the two years that we had planned to stay in that East Asian country. We weren't just vacationing: we needed things that would help us live.

First family flight, 2005

When we started travelling with our kids, we began economizing on travel items. On the kids' first flight, to Winnipeg, they each had their own backpack, full of necessities to keep them occupied. DW had a mid-sized suitcase, which was checked, that held her things plus the girls' clothes. We also had a small, collapsible stroller, as Kid 2 was pretty small and couldn't walk for long distances without getting tired, and that was secured to the checked bag.

My carry-on was actually a suitcase-styled backpack, which came in handy because I could strap it to my back and have hands free for the kids. I also had a fanny pack.

In addition to the clothes and personal items that I needed in my carry-on backpack, it also contained some essentials that the kids might need, should the checked bag become waylaid.

It didn't.

The last time that we ever brought baggage that had to be checked was in 2014, when we all headed to France. Each kid had her own carry-on suitcase, as did DW and me. But we also brought a large duffel bag, which contained camping gear.

For part of that vacation, we camped. (It was the camping trip that made me not want to camp again.)

From that point, going forward, our family has only travelled with one carry-on and one personal item. That's it.

In 2019, Kid 2 travelled with her friends to Greece, and she was nearly mocked for having only one small suitcase and a backpack, when all the others were lugging around massive suitcases and carry-ons. But she had the last laugh when they were struggling up hills and uneven streets.

She even managed to add more clothes, that she purchased on her trip, into that carry-on.

That's my girl.

In May, the four of us are travelling again, and we've all equipped ourselves with backpack-styled carry-on bags. Where we're going, there are lots of uneven surfaces. Sometimes, there aren't even roads. We need to be light on our feet, without small wheels on roller suitcases slowing us down.

DW and the girls will have these carry-on bags and a small backpack that they can use as day packs. And they expect to be boarding the flights with the one carry-on and one personal item.

For me, I'm challenging myself.

My travel M.O.

Usually, I have my trusty, hard-shell roller suitcase and a backpack. That's what I took when I went to Arizona, back to South Korea (in 2019), to Portugal, Costa Rica, and several times to Mexico.

This time, I'm planning on boarding the planes only with my fully-laden backpack suitcase, but no added personal item.

(Actually, that's not quite true: my D-SLR with a 24–70mm lens will be clipped onto a shoulder strap. If questioned, I'll unclip it and declare it as my personal item.)

In this bag, I'll have my clothes, personal items, camera gear, tripod, video gear, drone, and my day pack—empty and pressed flat. For day trips, I'll pull out the smaller backpack and load it up with my gear.

I don't know if this will work yet. I did do a practice pack and was able to get everything in, but that was before I bought my drone and a hard case to hold it, the remote control, extra batteries, cables, and spare propellers.

I may have to sacrifice some clothes for my gear.

But I really should try packing this bag and test out my ability to carry it on my back. Stay tuned.

A Debunked Conspiracy Theory

I didn't know it for very long.

I had my first taste of a Conspiracy Theory beer at Greenfield's Public House almost seven years ago, killing time while Kid 1 was at a nearby martial arts school. It was a decent beer and the person behind the bar had told me that it was a local craft brewer.

Very local.

Paul Card, the brewer, was creating beer out of his garage in Barrhaven. Shortly after, I sought him out and tried his products for a Beer O'Clock review post.

But in truth, I never tried the beer after that. And not because I had anything against the beer: it was just because I never saw any on tap at Greenfield's any more (they rotated several of their taps, including Conspiracy Theory, and it was never there when I was in).

At our meeting, Paul had told me of his plans to open a brew pub in the strip mall that was under development at the time, along Greenback Road, near Highbury Park Drive. But he was having issues with their management and might have to look elsewhere.

Apparently, Bells Corners became the brewery's home.

I had learned of his brew pub a couple of years ago but life got in the way, with the help of the pandemic, and I never found the time to check it out until late last year, when I met up with my friend, Perry, for dinner and drinks.

They made a good bacon cheeseburger.

Again, the beer was fine. Not great, but quaffable. But what held my interest, on that visit was the discovery that they had a weekly karaoke night. And this venue was great for my intention of having a practice spot, where I could sing songs away from the evenings when I joined my friends.

I would come to Conspiracy Theory's karaoke night for practice, and on my first evening of coming on my own, I made new friends. I wasn't crazy about the system that the karaoke jockey used, where I couldn't set up songs in advance, and I didn't like that he didn't have nearly half of the songs I requested.

At my first meeting with these karaoke friends, I learned that there was a venue near my house, in Barrhaven, and coincidentally, it was below Greenfield's, where I had first experienced Conspiracy Theory beer.

When I checked it out, I was duly impressed. So much so, that I decided on that night that Hummingbird Hall was going to be my regular practice venue, and that I'd go to Conspiracy Theory only periodically.

I have even rented out Hummingbird Hall and hired the KJ, Amy, for my upcoming birthday celebration.

Last Friday, I decided not to go to Conspiracy Theory because I had gone to Hummingbird the night before, and I was going to a karaoke night at another brewery, Stray Dog, on Saturday. Little did I know that I'd never be going to Conspiracy Theory again.

On Saturday, Conspiracy Theory unexpectedly closed its doors for good, stating economic issues—mainly, its inability to pay its rent and the increasing costs to suppliers and staff. I can't say that I was particularly surprised: on the five occasions that I went to the brew pub, I only saw it busy once, when someone was celebrating a retirement.

On the other occasions that I had visited Conspiracy Theory, only a small fraction of the restaurant area was occupied, with fewer than a half-dozen tables used. Now, perhaps that was due to karaoke night not being popular, but I've never been to a brew pub on a Thursday or Friday and it was not busy, or even full.

My last visit to Conspiracy Theory on a quiet Friday night. Our server had time to sing.

(DW came close to booking Conspiracy Theory for my party, and I'm glad she didn't.)

I feel sad for Paul. Years ago, this brewery was clearly his passion. Even when I talked to him, last November, he still seemed pleased with what he had accomplished, though he did hint that he was thinking about selling the business.

Was the writing already on the wall, or am I seeing some kind of conspiracy?

And while I'm sad for it's closure, I didn't bond with the place enough to truly say that I'll miss it. The beer was good but not good enough to draw me there on its own. We have lots of excellent breweries in Ottawa, so the loss of one that wasn't outstanding was likely inevitable.

Best of luck to those who suddenly found the doors locked and themselves out of a job. They were good people and I hope they find something else quickly.

Beer O'Clock: Madri Excepcional

I was originally going to turn my nose up to it.

I was meeting up with some long-time friends from my journalism days at a roadhouse near IKEA, last summer, and the beer menu didn't look promising to me. There were the standard Molson Coors offerings and no local craft beer, and I was almost going to order a glass of the house red.

But there was a brew that I didn't recognize and sounded Spanish, and I became curious.

It's a lager, which also made me tempted to pass it up, because that is one of my least favourite styles of beer. But then I thought, what the hell, I might as well try it so that I could objectively poo-poo it down the road.

And it was summer, and I was hot, and needed something light to quench my thirst.

To my surprise, I actually ended up ordering a second. This stuff wasn't that bad. And when, a few months later, I came across a four-pack of it in the LCBO, I decided to pick it up to do a proper review for Beer O'Clock.

And then, I promptly forgot about it in my basement beer fridge. DW and I went to Mexico with four of our friends. Christmas came and went, as did New Years.

Even when I saw that my supply of local craft beer was dropping, I didn't pay much attention to these bright red cans, but instead ordered more beer from a local brewery.

Almost three months have passed since I picked up this four-pack. In that time, I had one on New Years Day and gave one to my father when my folks were visiting. But then, this week, my eyes fell onto the remaining two cans and I thought I should finally give this lager my full attention.

For you.

In preparing for this review, I performed an online search and was surprised (not-so surprised) to learn that it's not Spanish at all, that it was originally produced in the UK by Coors, in collaboration with their Spanish subsidiary, which is based in Toledo La Sagra, Spain.

It's only 'inspired' by Spanish lagers. It's not really Spanish.

Looking at the can, now, I feel a bit deceived, as the main, identifying label is printed twice: once, in Spanish; and again, in French, to appease the Québec government language police. There is no English as part of the main label.

Another part of the labelling reads "Experience the Soul of Madrid," which might also lead one to believe it's a product of Spain.

In Canada, Madri (the Spanish name for Madrid) is brewed by Molson Coors, which now makes sense to me that the menu at that roadhouse only featured beer by that mega producer. Had I known on that summer evening, I would have definitely gone for wine.

But let's look at the beer that refreshed me enough to make me want to pick up that four-pack.

Madri Excepcional (4.6% ABV)
Molson Coors Beverage Company
Toronto ON

Appearance: pours a clear gold with a creamy white head and lots of effervescence.

Nose: a citrusy malt aroma that's fresh, almost like lemongrass.

Palate: the maltiness leads the way, followed by a slight pine resin flavour. The body is light and leaves a lingering, biscuity finish. On subsequent sips, the biscuit developed a caramel-like complexity that tempers the pine resin.

Overall impression: as I've said, lagers aren't my preferred style of beer but I've had enough of them to at least appreciate what they offer. Madri is a good example of a lager. It's easy-drinking and was perfect for that summer's evening with my friends.

And, given the alternatives from Molson Coors, it was the best bet.

That being said, I'm disappointed that a lager that is packaged to give the appearance of being Spanish seems to be done so to trick those who don't investigate to believe that they're drinking a product of Spain. And that's deceptive.

I don't support Molson and tend to avoid buying from colossal breweries. At a time where I'm buying Canadian—especially from small businesses—and avoiding anything that comes from the US, I feel many will be duped into thinking that they're buying from a Spanish brewery.

Sure, Madrid tastes good, but I won't be buying it again.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺

You can find Madrid in the LCBO and probably in The Beer Store.

Cheers.

More Ira (NSFW)

New Venue

I felt like a newbie. And, in truth, I was.

Kou's Taekwon-do is gone. And I'm not really surprised: Master Kou was about my age, if not a year or two older, and is probably enjoying a much-deserved retirement. And, apparently, no one was willing to take over the business—at least not in the Barrhaven Mall.

Walking down the familiar steps to the lower level of the mall, it was like stepping back in time. The Nepean School of Music was still open; no doubt, getting ready to close for the evening. The door to the reception area was open and friendly, young faces smiled as I passed by.

A turn to the left took me down the narrow corridor that would have taken me to the taekwon-do school, maybe 10 years ago, but instead of hearing the shouts of active black, blue, of yellow belts, without the smell of sweat and bare feet, I heard a song by Johnny Cash and a baritone voice.

It was the man who I had met at Conspiracy Theory, a couple of Fridays ago, whose name had escaped me after I first learned it that night.

It's Dave.

The other woman from that karaoke night—again, whose name I had forgotten shortly after first hearing it—was also in attendance. We re-introduced ourselves: her name is Danielle. They were sitting together with another woman, Julie, and I was invited to join them. A little later, another person, Rachel, sat with us.

Hummingbird Hall is cosy. Dimly lit, there's a full stage in one corner of the room with a drum kit, congas, and an electric keyboard. Lots of speakers flank the sides and two monitors point back at the stage. To one side of the stage, a full-sized piano had been rolled out of the way for this evening: to the other, more congas and some guitars leaned on a rack.

There are small tables with chairs that are wrapped in a black fabric. Several cushy sofas are scattered around the room. To the left side of the room, where you enter, a small bar offers drinks and snacks, including some good local craft beer.

I liked the place as soon as I entered.

It wasn't too busy when I arrived, with maybe 10 or 12 people spread across the room. I arrived about 10 minutes after the show was about to start but it was a bit delayed. Dave was apparently doing a sound check while the host of the night, Amy, was delayed by snow.

There's someone who handles a full-fledged sound board, who had helped Dave get the levels right. Amy showed up right behind me and got under way immediately.

A large-screen that shows the lyrics also displayed a QR code for KaraFun. Because I've used this system before and had created an account (Brown Knowser, of course), I came straight up. You use the app to select your song and you are immediately added to the queue. A ticker-tape banner at the top of the screen shows the next three singers, so you have plenty of advanced warning of when it's your turn.

You can also check the app on your phone to see where you are in the queue, if you're not on the board yet.

I said that I felt like a newbie, and that's because everyone in the place seemed to know one another. I felt like I was a guest at a singing club, and that I was checking it out for possible membership, if the members would accept me.

Because this was a mostly new crowd for me (apart from Dave and Danielle), I started with a song that I know very well: Cat Stevens' "Where Do The Children Play?" People were receptive and Amy, at her KJ microphone, was extremely complimentary.

Another person from Conspiracy Theory's karaoke night, Annie, showed up soon after, followed by James, the person who had invited me to their table originally. Within an hour of the start of the evening, there were about 20 singers in the room.

I went up a second time with a song that I haven't sung in at least a year because it hits the upper range of my voice and I'm always worried that my voice will falter. But I sung "High and Dry," by Radiohead, anyway, and managed to pull it off in what was, I think, my best rendition. I headed straight to the bar to get a second pint, and the bartender raved about how I brought back memories of his youth.

With my second beer, I decided that I'd stay until my cup was empty, so I put in another song that I'm familiar with: "Driver 8," by R.E.M. (Conspiracy Theory didn't have it when I requested it, the previous week, but I knew it was on the KaraFun app).

I noticed that with this song, I couldn't hear myself through the monitors, so when I was finished, I let Amy know. She immediately started a song for herself and did a sound check, bringing the music down a little and finding the best place to stand with the microphone.

"I don't usually get up to sing," she told me afterward, "but I didn't have time to do the sound check, myself."

"You have a gorgeous voice. You should sing," I said.

"Thanks. You're very good, too."

Dave sang a heartfelt version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and it inspired me for my next song. I added "The Rainbow Connection" to the queue. But when I reached the end of my second beer, I saw that I was ninth in the list to go up. I rose to put my jacket on.

"Leaving so soon?" asked Dave.

"Afraid so," I said.

"Hey, are you coming out to Conspiracy Theory tomorrow?" asked James.

"I think so."

"Did you want a lift?" James and I discovered that we only live a block away from one another. He said he planned to be there around 7, when the karaoke night starts.

"Thanks, but I probably won't show until about 8." He usually stays until closing, and I wanted to also be able to leave when I wanted.

As I headed for the door, Amy got my attention. "Thanks for coming out. I hope to see you again."

"Count on it. You're less than 10 minutes from home and I love the venue."

Indeed, it's the nicest venue for karaoke that I've ever seen. Who would have thought that a former taekwon-do space could have transformed into such an intimate spot for one of my favourite pastimes?

I just might even become a regular.

Happy Tuesday!