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Quick short entry today. The Labour Day long weekend is here, and it’s time to bolt to the lake, and salvage what we can of summer. It’s sunny and 23 right now, but the forecast is calling for rain and 10 by Sunday. I’ve got a feeling we might burn a lot of wood this weekend.

So, for some reason, our dog Ryder, stopped lifting his leg at the beginning of summer. That’s lifting his leg to pee, by the way. He can still lift his leg. Kinda tough to walk if you don’t lift your legs.
When he was a puppy, he squatted to pee. Eventually, as he got a little older, he started to mark his territory by lifting his leg, and doing his thing up against the fence, or a tree, or bush, the neighbour’s kid, whever it was handy. He continued this over the winter, mainly I think, because it meant he only had to have 3 paws in the snow instead of 4. In and out as quick as possible.

For some reason, come this Spring, he started squatting again, which means he was going in the middle of the yard, instead of along the fenceline. Each visit outside meant a big honkin’ burn mark in the grass. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know about my attempts to grow the world’s perfect lawn. Ryder wasn’t helping in the slighest. I patched all the wholes he’d made, and erected a little stick and twine fence. I figured it would be a quick solution to keeping him to one area of the yard. He figured it would be a quick solution to making me look like a fool. He walked out, had a look at the twine, looked under it, over it, sized it up, and then walked right through it. Found the one whole I’d left after running out of twine.

My wife, feeling my pain, went out and bought some of that green wire fencing you put around your trees or shrubs. It’s about 18″ high, and comes in about 9 foots lengths. She created a little fence along the deck, down the stairs, and into the corner of the yard. Once again, Ryder walked out onto the deck, sniffed around a bit, and then proceeded to suck in those little Shih tzu ribs of his until he made himself about 2″ wide, and walked through the gate. Really, Ryder? This stuff costs money. As if to understand our plight, he began adhering to the new fence line, and doing his thing in the alloted location. When he feels like it. He can get out into the rest of the yard any time he wants. I think he just feels sorry for me, ’cause I’m just a human, and don’t have his intelligence. The burn stains have stopped, for the most part, and as if to tease me, he’s peeing against the fence again. I think he’s just messing with me.

Have a great long weeekend!
B

Ah, the first day of school. Not any first day of school, but the very first of school. The first day of kindergarten.  I was scared to death. So much so, that my Mom promised to buy me a yellow rain jacket if I walked to the first day of class all by myself. I was the youngest in the family, the last of four kids to start school. My three older sisters were off to real school, elementary school. Back in those days, in my neighborhood, kindergarten was located in a different building, a separate entity, a few miles apart. Thus, my Mom’s desire to not have to walk me to school. For the life of me, I can’t remember why I wanted a yellow rain jacket. The kind that the fishermen wear. Perhaps to go along with standard issue black and bronze rubber boots I was wearing. Everybody had the same boots back in those days. The same runners, too. At least the boys did. They were called Basketmasters. It wasn’t until grade two or three that kids started showing up in Adidas and Puma running shoes. From that point on, it started to become a bit of a fashion show. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from my older sisters, so I didn’t have to participate in the brand-wars. Maybe that’s why I still wear whatever my wife brings me home. I don’t think I’ve ever checked the brand of jeans I was wearing. It was just never seemed all that important. After the fear of that first year of school subsided, the first day of class become an exciting day. The school would post the class lists the day before school started on the windows of the class rooms. So, on the Sunday before classes began, it wasn’t uncommon to see a few hundred kids make their way down to the school to see who their teacher was, and whose class they were in. Think back. That was a huge thing. Who was in your class?  If you and your best friend spent the year in different classes, you’d probably still be friends come June, but maybe not best friends. Spending 10 months apart had a way of doing that to friendships, at that age. Eventually, though, you’d end up in the same class again, and it would be like old times.  My kids are going into grades 9 and 12 tomorrow, and the other one graduated two years ago, so their days of wide-eyed naivety are long gone. As a matter fact, they’ll both be the big fish at their schools this year. They better enjoy it. Next year, it could be my daughter’s first day in University, and my youngest son’s first day in high school. It’ll be a bit unnerving for them, I imagine. Somehow, though, I doubt they’ll be asking for a yellow rain jacket.

I’ve noticed a growing trend over the past couple of years. People leaving stuff on their front lawn, or curb, with a sign that says “Free for the taking”. Kind of like a garage sale, without the money part of it. And you don’t have to barter with anybody. For that matter, you don’t even have to be home.

We’ve done it several times. Personally, I like to think we were on the cutting edge about 10 years ago, when we first gave stuff away after a garage sale. Actually, come to think of it, it wasn’t actually giving stuff away. Someday just took it. Technically, I guess they stole it. But we didn’t want it, so we didn’t worry about it.

We’d taken part in the community garage sale, and made a decent profit from the stuff we’d cleaned out of the basement. Except, as is always the case, we only sold half of the items. The smaller stuff we just took back in the house. But we had an entertainment centre, and a computer desk that we didn’t feel like hauling back downstairs. So, we figured we’d just have dinner, and come back later that night to move it back into the garage.

Somebody beat us to it. By the time we got out there, it was gone. I’m not sure if I was happy or mad at the time. I mean, we’d intended to sell it, so it was worth something, but I really didn’t want to bring it back into the house. So, we just kind of shrugged our shoulders, had a chuckle, and went back into the house. I’m pretty sure I knew who it was, ’cause I’ve seen him walking down the street at odd hours, with strange stuff before. Like lamps, or chairs. I mean, who walks down the street at 7am with a lamp in their hands?

After that experience, any time we had something that we wanted to get rid of, we just stuck it on the curb with a “free” sign. So far, it’s worked every time. Most of the time, it’s fairly decent stuff, we just have no place for it. Occaisonally, I’d have to admit we wanted it gone ’cause it just looked ugly. But hey, like that old saying, “one man’s junk is another man’s treasure”. True enough. I buy somebody else’s junk every year at the community garage sale. My son came home with a basketball hoop last year. Not the hoop, and stand, like you’d see in someone’s yard. Just the metal hoop. Not even a net. More like someone had pulled it down from an outdoor court, decided they didn’t want it, and then left it on their curb, with a “free sign”. Junk. Since I wasn’t about to nail it to our awning, I eventually tossed it. I guess I could’ve stuck it on the curb again.

I’ve noticed, though, that it’s a lot more prevalent these days. Very rarely does a day go by that I don’t dry by at least one “free” sign on the way to and from work. Maybe it’s because we accumulated so much stuff in the worry-free 90’s, when people had extra cash. Or maybe we just don’t feel like giving up our weekends holding garage sales. If you stick it on Craigslist, Kijiji or BuySell.com, you may get a bite or two, but more often than not, people will take your address and then, when you give up a Sunday afternoon waiting for them, just not show up.

Or maybe we’re just more giving people these days. There are certainly lots of people that can use extra computer desks, or entertainment centres. Even basketball hoops, I guess. If they can’t afford to buy it, and you’ve got an extra one, why not? Everybody goes home happy.

I’m still waiting for the day somebody leaves a 40″ LCD TV on the curb.

My wife and daughter watched a Myley Cyrus movied called “The Last Song” yesterday morning while I had my coffee and read the paper. I ended up sneaking over to have a look, and ended up watching the last half hour. The premise of the movie, in short, was that Miley’s character had stopped playing music after her parents divorced. When she reunited with her Dad a few years down the line, she found out he had terminal cancer, and she started to play again. Decent movie. Good enough to have my wife in tears.

A few hours later, my daughter asked where her keyboard was. She’d taken piano lessons for a couple of years, back when she was 12 or 13. She’s 16 now, and hasn’t really played more than a few notes since she nailed “Carol of the Bells” at her recital. She’d had enough of lessons at that point, and we weren’t about to force her to go. She wanted to concentrate on dance,  and that was fine. All I ever hoped was that she’d stick with it long enough to remember what she’d learned.

So, I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I dug the ‘ol Roland keyboard, stand and speakers out of the storage under the stairs. Dusty, but still ready to go. I dropped ‘em off in her room, and let her do her thing. Once she got it set up, she said “I wonder how “Falling Slowly” starts?” Once of our favourite songs. It was the academy award winner for Best Song a couple of years ago. I managed to pluck out the first few bars for her (I’m not a piano player), and she picked it up from there, printed off the sheet music from some online site, and that’s the last I saw of her for a few hours. She eventually called us up to her room, and proceeded to play the first part of the song, flawlessly. It gave me chills. Not that she was on her way to Juliard, but that she not only remembered what she’d learned, but she really wanted to play. And she was good. She spent the next few hours, dabbling at the second part of the song. She prefers not to read music for the entire song, but to learn it bit by bit, and then commit it to memory.

I learned a little guitar when I was young, from my sisters. I took guitar in grade 8 at my junior high, and kind of messed around a bit after that. But I never really played. I took lessons about 10 years ago, and was starting to develop a feel for it, but life just kind of got in the way. I found myself showing up to lessons, still working on the stuff we’d learned last week. My playing had fallen from an hour or two a day, to an hour or two a week. There was just too much going on. I decided to drop the lessons, and pick them up when things settled down. As you well know, with kids, things never settle down. I never did get back to the lessons, and I regret it. I can still chord my way through basic material, and play the intros to lots of songs, but I never reached the “campfire” level, and that’s all I ever really wanted. It’s still not too late. It never will be. And I found listening to my daughter inspiring. Tomorrow, I’ll dust off the guitar, and start working on the accoutic version of “Falling Slowly”, and see what happens. Maybe someday I can duet with my daughter. Not in public. Just in her room. Just me, her, my dusty guitar, and a keyboard that still has a couple of sticky keys in the middle.

That would be cool.

The kids are back in school in less than a week. Can you believe it? This summer has just flown by. I think it’s because we spent the whole thing waiting for better weather. Next thing you know, summer vacation’s over.

That got me thinking about the years I went back to class. And my teachers. I can still remember every teacher like it was yesterday. There was Mrs Stewart. Grade 7 Language Arts and Social Studies. Tough as nails. She never let us go outside on a sunny once the entire year. Other classes would be out playing soccer in the sunshine. We were inside reading a novel, and discussing it’s relevance. She said school wasn’t a place to play games. We were there to learn, and we’d appreciate it some day. She was right. By the time I hit grade 8, all that extra study time came in handy. I wouldn’t admit it then, but I’ll admit it now. If your still around, Mrs. Stewart…..thanks.

Mrs Reid was my grade one teacher. She taught most of my sisters before I got there, so she liked me through attrition, I think. Grade two was Mrs. Akune. We spent our whole year in a portable, unattached from the school. Like an island all to our own. In Grade 3, it was Mrs. Blake, my soccer coach’s wife. Grade 4, we had a split class. Mrs. Murphy was my teacher, but she shared a classroom with Mrs. London. There must have been 70 kids in our class. A huge room with a divider down middle. Mrs Murphy was tough. Irish tough. But fair. Grade 6 was Mr. Miller, our gym teacher. For some reason, I remember his breath. Coffee/smoke breath. I learned to avoid asking for help anytime after recess or lunch. Grade 7 was Mrs Stewart and Mr. Crane. He was the Vice-principal as well. Ex-military. Tough on the outside, a big teddy bear on the inside. However, we had to recite “Casey at the Bat” on the last day of school before we could leave. I practiced that sucker for days, just so I wouldn’t be stuck in school for the summer.

Grade 5. Miss Marra. Halfway through the year, she married a guy named Rocky, and became Mrs. McCann. I think that’s how you spell it. I wish I knew for sure, ’cause I’ve tried to look her up over the years. She was one of those people that left a lasting impression. In many ways, she changed my life, or at least at helped shape the person I became. She was young. Probably in her early 20’s. We had “rap sessions”. Keep in mind this was about 1974. The post hippie era. And I think she was a hippie in her teenage years. Rap sessions. We’d sit in the class, or in a circle on the floor, and talk about anything. Life. Grade 5 love. Bullying. Respect. She was a cool lady. She left the school a year or two later, and I haven’t seen her since. But the things she taught me about myself stuck with me, and they still do, 35 years later. I hope I run into her one day, just to say thanks, and to let her know what a great teacher she was, for us, for me, at that time of my life.

Teachers have a huge responsiblity. Not only for educating our kids. But the things they say to them can stick in their minds for a long, long time. The good stuff. And the bad stuff. Think about each one of your teachers, and things they said. I guarantee you can still hear their voices. One of my teachers once called me “arrogant”. She was right. I was pretty cocky at that time of my life. I took it to heart, and tried to get my ego in check, but I’ll remember those words for the rest of my life. I’d like to think I’m a more humble person today, because what she said then.

There were plenty more teachers after that, including my high school guidance counsellor who suggested I consider broadcasting as a career. I was going to be a teacher. Almost 30 years after he offered that advice, I’m still a broadcaster. Some of their names I’ve forgotten, as I’m sure they’ve forgotten mine. But all of them, in some way, help me become the person I am.

Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?

When you meet your kid’s teachers this fall, look ‘em in the eye and say thanks. They’re not just teaching your child. They’re moulding them. They’re helping become the person they’ll eventually be.

Thanks, Miss Marra…..Mrs McCann. Wherever you are. I hope you’ve had a great life. Maybe someday we’ll sit down and rap about it. I’d like that.

**Just as I wrote this, we hit 30 degrees in Calgary for the first time this summer. Wahoo! It’s now 31, and still on the rise. That said…….. **

 There’s no two ways around it. The summer of 2010 has been a flop. It’s been wet, cold and miserable. Or has it?

Enviroment Canada came out with a story today saying that we’re currently on pace to make 2010 the hottest year in Canadian History. Between January and today, we’re 3.5 degrees warmer than normal. The hottest year on record was back in ‘98, when we finished 2.5 degrees above average.

Here in Calgary, we’re sayin’ “huh?”. My grass looks like the fairways at Cottonwood Golf and Country Club. Taber corn was 3 weeks late due to the rain. And they’re calling it the hottest year ever?

Here’s the deal. We’re about 2 degrees warmer than normal here on the Prairies. Most of that must have come back in January or February, ’cause it sure didn’t happen over the summer. We’ve just been really, really wet. Out in B.C., they’ve been smokin’. Literally. The province is on fire. Forest fires everywhere. Kamloops has spent most of the summer in the mid 30’s. Back east, places like Ottawa had hit 30 a dozen times by mid July. So, it’s apparently been hot everywhere but here. Thus, the average temp across Canada is higher.

It’s a good thing they deliver these reports via phone. If a guy from Enviroment Canada told somebody from Calgary it was the hottest year on record, face to face, there’s a good chance he’d get punched in the ear. Not only a we a little cold, but we’re a little touchy too.

They also predicted that September would be warmer than normal, from Manitoba out to Newfoundland. Here in the West? Colder than normal for September, October and November. Go figure.

Well…..I ain’t movin’ to Toronto. Ever. So, I’ll just grab a hoodie, and unbrella, and take Calgary for what it is. Unpredictable. Beautiful.  But unpredictable.

 Hockey anybody?

What’s the first thing you do when get home after work? When you get out of bed, and grab a coffee?

For a lot of people, myself included, it’s social media. E-mail, Facebook, Twitter, and a handful of others. Personally, when I get my morning coffee, I’ve got 3 e-mail accounts - home, personal and work. One for the family, one for my involvement in baseball and other stuff that doesn’t need to plug up the family account, and then my Lite 96 e-mail address. I also have a Facebook account page, although I’m horribly slow at updating it. I do a status update about every 3 months. For the most part, I use it to upload pictures that I can share with family and friends. I just don’t have the time, nor desire to spend a lot of time sending messages on Facebook.

Which brings us to the question, “how much is too much?” How much time do we spend on the computer looking at pictures of people we grew up with, but haven’t talked to in 20 years? Uploading pictures. Answering e-mail. Deleting junk e-mail. Even blogging, if you’re into that. Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes to write and entry. Sometimes it takes an hour. If you added up all the time you spend doing the above, how much of your day is spent on social media?

And what did it replace? Something had to disappear. We used to spend all that time doing something. Maybe it was TV. That would simply be a swap of guilty pleasures, I think. But maybe we used to read. Or spend time with the kids. Or talk with family on the phone. Maybe it was time we used to spend outside.

Don’t get me wrong. Social media is a big part of who we are, especially our kids generation. I just wonder how much is too much. At some point, we’ll have to say no to something. Imagine having Facebook, e-mail, Twitter, Myspace and even some old fashioned MSN. And for every one of those, there’s another site trying to lure you away with something similar. It wasn’t that long ago that all of our kids were on Nexopia.

Maybe that’s how we manage our time. Just trading one for another. Give up Nexopia, sign up for Myspace. Give up Myspace, and sign up for Facebook. Give up Facebook, and sign up for whatever’s next. Rather than spending time on MSN, our kids now text, or IM (instant message).

When you really think about it, maybe we’re not losing time after all.  When I was a teenager, I used to spend hours on the phone with girls from school. Not guys. We could get on and off the phone, with mission accomplished, in less than 30 seconds. But, talking to the girls. That could take hours. Our kids don’t do that anymore. I would venture to guess that, combined, my three kids spend 15 minutes a month on the phone.

So, maybe it’s not social network fatigue. Maybe it’s just that we’re older, with more responsibilities, and it’s a little tougher to fit things in a 24 hour day. Just like it used to be with our parents. I imagine they wondered how we could spend all that time on the phone.

Do you think you could do a week without Facebook? I know I couldn’t do a week without e-mail. I could definately do a week without Twitter. I don’t get Twitter. Literally. I don’t have a phone capable of getting updates. That’s what you get when you spend $29 on a phone, at a boxing day sale.  And maybe that’s a good thing.

More time to spend on Youtube.

Don’t get me started.

Wow. It’s been a few years since I took two weeks off in a row. It seemed like I was away from work forever, which I guess is a good thing. I must say I could get used to taking holidays for a living. Haven’t seen that job in the classifieds yet, though. It took me a few minutes to get used to our control board today. Usually, I hit switches and buttons and microphones and touchscreens without thinking. It’s all habitual, just like any job. Today, I had to think about which button to press, and what I had to say next. Too much like work. By the end of the shift, it was all second nature again. I’m a creature of habit. As much as I enjoyed the time off, I like structure in my life. Getting out of bed with no plans is unsettling for me. I like to know what I’m doing, and when I’m doing it. I guess, down deep, I’m a schedule guy, comfortable with a routine. So, in a strange way, I’m happy to back at work.

Over the past couple of weeks, I took my boys to Seattle to watch some baseball - a 2500km journey in 4 days, a whirlwind tour to say the least. I’m glad my oldest son drives. We just happened to hit the border crossing about the time that a couple of fugitives were thought to be attempting to make their way into Canada. Wonderful. What normally takes about 15 minutes, tops, took about 2 hours. All the lines had to funnel into one, speak with U.S. marshalls, and then proceed to the Canadian border. It was a loooong day coming back, about 15 hours in the car.

Aside from that, I spent a couple of weekends up at the lake, at our trailer. My wife and I went solo, leaving the kids at home. That was interesting. Relaxing, sort of. Even though we had an adult back at home, with my son approaching 20, it just seemed weird to not have the kids with us. I had the cellphone handy at all times, just in case. I wonder if parents ever stop worrying. I doubt it.

I took on a few small projects at home. Nothing big like last time around. No removing fence posts or that kind of thing. Mowed the lawn a few times, tackled the weeds, changed the oil in the car, did some painting, that kind of stuff.  Went to the zoo with my daughter. It was nice.

But, I’m glad to be back. Next scheduled holiday…….December. So, you’re stuck with me for a bit.

Somebody’s cooking food in the staff kitchen, and it smells good. The air somehow gets vented from the kitchen directly through to the control room. It smells like a restaurant in here sometimes, especially when somebody’s using the microwave to heat their dinner, or make popcorn. I better go check it out. Maybe there’s leftovers.

Later,
B

Boy it was quiet around our place last night. Our daughter was up at Glennifer lake with her friends for the night, and our son was working in Edmonton for a couple of days. That left us with just one of the three kids. I consider it practice for another 5 or 10 years, when all the kids might be out of the house, and the empty nesting will begin.

We went through less milk, but the same amount of dishes. How is that possible? Milk is big around our place. We go through at least a 4 litre jug per day, sometimes more. All three of the kids love milk. So, to start the day with 3 jugs in the fridge, and end the day with 2 and a half was kind of strange. Hey, we could be rich when they all move out. At $4-5 per jug, and a jug per day, that’s about $1500 per year in milk savings. Wahoo.

It was actually a landmark day for our daughter. She drove up to Glennifer Lake with her friends, to stay at their cabin for the night. She’s 16, and it’s the first time we’ve okayed her to drive up with just her friends. The kid doing the driving seemed nice enough, my daughter said he was a responsible driver, and my wife threatened him with his life if he didn’t drive safely. I think that probably did the trick. Poor kid. I’m not sure he’ll ever come back to our house. We had her text us on the way up, so that we knew she was doing okay. That’s a big step for us. Letting ‘em grow up is tough. Still, we’re getting better. We were a wreck the first time our son went with his buddies out of town. This time, we were edgy, but not a wreck. By the time our youngest makes his maiden solo voyage, it’ll be old hat.

It was different not having to wait to use the computer, or watch the TV downstairs while my daughter watched her PVR’ed “So You Think You Can Dance”. I felt kind of like Mathew McConaughey’s dad on “Failure to Launch”. Less the naked room. The house felt empty. It’s funny. Every now and then, my wife and will complain that the house just isn’t big enough, we need more storage, or a bonus room. Maybe, but boy, when the kids leave, it’s going to feel like a mansion.

Well, that’s about it for the next couple of weeks. I’m going to squeeze in some more holidays before the end of summer. If I don’t take ‘em now, I end up with a bunch of holidays in November or December. Just what a person needs when you live on the Prairies. Vacationing at -20. No thanks. It may not have hit 30 degrees in Calgary yet, but I’ll gladly take my holidays in the 20’s, without the minus sign in front.

If I don’t get near the computer during the next couple of weeks, keep enjoying your summer, and we’ll talk to you again soon.

B

In the words of Kermit the Frog, “it ain’t easy spending green”. Okay, that wasn’t the direct quote, but it’s close, and it applies more to the story.

 The boys and I are heading off to Seattle pretty quick, for our annual trip to watch the Seattle Mariners. This will be the third annual, and I’m on a quest to make it cheaper every year. Maybe one day I’ll get it done for free. Trade a paper clip on Ebay until I get free tickets and lodging. Year one, it was pre-recesssion, and gas prices were sky high, so the travel prices weren’t cheap. Plus, we were driving my son’s Jimmy, which was a bit of a pig on gas. We stayed for 6 days, and I bought the tickets to the 4 games we saw via various sources. Some from Ebay, some from Ticketmaster, and some from Stubhub, a company that resells tickets authourized by Major League Baseball.

Last year, we drove my son’s new Hyundai Elantra at about $30 a tank, gas was cheap, we went to 4 games, and stayed 5 nights in a motel. The same motel as the year before. No frills. Nice outdoor pool. Free breakfast. Inexpensive.

This year, I’m on the prowl for even more savings. We’re only to get away for 5 days this year, so only 4 nights in a hotel. That means one less ballgame, only 3 this time around. I’ve bought two sets of tickets from Stubhub already, $40 tickets for $8 apeice, and I’m holding out for a good price on the third game. I got creative on the hotel, and tried my luck on the Priceline.com site. That’s the place where you bid on a hotel, specifying only location, how many stars, and how much you’re willing to pay. Kind of like choosing behind door #2 on Let’s Make a Deal. Maybe you get the car. Maybe you get the cow. My bids were rejected a couple of times, but we landed a 3 star in Bellevue for $75 a night. The regular price was about $125, so I’m happy with that. And, it’s got a pool! That part worried me. You can’t request specific things, like pools. You just click, and hope. We got lucky. As you’re well aware, teenage boys and no pool could’ve been a bit of a challenge.

I wish I was one of those people that could just say, “Okay, we’re on vacation. Price is not an issue”. Sorry, it’s not in my DNA. It drives my wife nuts. I’ll spend hours on the computer hunting down cheap tickets, to save $50. As you justifiably points out, how much is my time worth? If I spend 10 hours on the computer trying to save $50, is it really worth it? When I could be doing something constructive? Like the dishes? Point taken.

I think it’s just the challenge. Whether our mini-vacation costs us $500 or $1000 isn’t going to break us. I just figure if I save some money on the neccessities, I can spend more on stuff like souveniers, or $8 hot dogs. If there’s money out there to be saved, why not take advantage of it?

Okay, enough yakking. I’ve got another set of tickets to find. Let’s see if I can break my record of $8.