Something Happened

  Yeah. Something happened. It got warm. For a day. Well, two actually. Since we arrived we've been struggling with the remnants of the cold snap we dragged down here in our car's slipstream. Not cold in Canadian terms but for Florida, yeah. I'm not looking for sympathy because we all know that 15C is HOT compared to -15C. Canadians would be out in shorts and t-shirts if the temperature suddenly hit 15 in January. However, when you drive two and a half days in order to be warm and you're not you feel just a bit cheated. Especially when the long-term forecast says it won't get warm until the day we leave. Ok, complaining /off.

  We're in a nice house with two cats who are amazingly standoffish. We see Dusty in the morning and evening and he's managed to warm up to us just a bit. We only see Mia when she comes out to eat otherwise she hides from us all day and all night. There are three sets of sliding doors at the rear of the house and Dusty spends a lot of time going out the bedroom door, which we leave open for them, then standing at the opposite one begging to be let in. It's a fun game. For him.

  We have an unheated pool in which we haven't even stuck a toe because, wait for it, it's not warm here. The last time I checked it was all the way up to 68F, about 10 degrees less than it would be for me to even think about getting in it. Oh, and the microwave broke last night in the middle of making dinner. Put the thing in, set it for 7 minutes and, after 5 minutes, it stopped with a bad, something-melted-and-it's-not-what-you-put-in-there kind of smell. Now I actually have to cook.

  Ok, I did say it warmed up for a couple of days and we did take advantage of it. Monday was time for golf and we found a place where we could play nine holes for a reasonable price. Right beside the Venice airport. I mean, right beside, as in next to the runway. Hook your drive and you'll be responsible for a Cessna pinwheeling into the ocean. I sliced instead. No one died.  Afterwards we headed to Siesta Key for buck-a-shuck oysters and some of the local brew. Not bad. We'll head back there soon.

  Yesterday I decided to do some 'slporin' on the bike so rode the three miles to Venice Beach.

It was a nice ride and there's something about getting off your bike, lying on the sand and watching the waves that has a certain je ne sais quoi about it. I felt so good that I continued wandering around the town to see what else was on offer. A park running down the middle of Venice Ave featured banyan trees which are always cool to see wherever we encounter them.

  I checked out the "culture park" where the art gallery, community center and library are gathered but didn't see much culture so I left in search of the old Venice Railway Station. Imagine alighting from a long train trip in the 1920's after leaving snowy New York and being greeted by this:

It's not "old Florida" but it helps illustrate the attraction for early tourists. Of course, this area is home to the Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus so the train station displays some of that history too.

  That was pretty much it for the day so I went home to break the microwave.

  Since the weather has been iffy there's been ample opportunity to keep abreast of the news and, frankly, it's depressing. I've been on Bluesky recently which, for the uninitiated, is like a left-wing X (Twitter). I agree with most of what's posted there but it's a constant "here's another stupid thing Trump/Musk/Bezos/Zuckerberg/MTG said/did today" and it's become a trial being immersed in it.

  For example, today I read that Trump wants to create an External Revenue Service to collect tariffs. Um. I thought Musk's DOGE thing was supposed to be reducing the size of government. Also, Customs and Border Patrol already collects tariffs. Stupid. Then I read how Walgreens pharmacies have noticed sales are down after they started locking up everything to reduce shoplifting. Surprise. I'm trying to understand how this country functions amidst all the stupidity.

  The news wasn't all bad. Yesterday I watched Jon Stewart's interview with Mark Carney. If this guy isn't our Prime Minister after the next election there's no hope for us. If you haven't seen it you'll find it on YouTube. Watch it.

  Enough politics. You didn't come here for that shit. You came here for this. Last night I was looking at house sitting posts, trying to find one to fill a two week gap in our schedule. We're willing to go anywhere it's warm... within reason. I found one in Austin, TX that looked interesting. Nice house, nice neighbourhood, two dogs named Sosa and Lorenzo. Then I read this:

  "We are the biological parents of Sosa and Lorenzo"

  You know me well enough now to actually hear what's going through my head when I read this:

  Biological parents of dogs = dogs

  Ok. I've heard the "fur babies" thing ad nauseum over the past twenty years but this is a step too far. Either the post was written by dogs and that raises a whole raft of questions like, "How can dogs afford a house?" and "How can dogs type?" or the "parents" failed Grade 11 Biology spectacularly. Pretty sure people can't have dogs as children unless the house is beside a nuclear waste dump. Suffice to say, we're not responding to this ad.

  We still have two and a half weeks to fill that gap so, as it gets closer, we'll become less selective. If the ad's still up we might end up fearfully driving to Austin to see what dog children are like, in person. By the way, I think Sosa is named for Sammy Sosa, a famous drug-cheat baseball player. Maybe steroids are at the bottom of this little mystery.

  That's about it for this chapter. The forecast calls for warmish weather starting this weekend so maybe some beach-y things are on the menu. If not, our next sit on the Atlantic coast is promising warmth and we'll be ready for it. Stay tuned.

Into The Belly Of The Beast

  Well friends, we're finally back on the road after many months. Although it was great to be near the kids for an extended period it's been a drag not being close. The house sits we were able to engage in the GTA were far enough away from them to be inconvenient and, after living so close for their entire lives, just plain odd. All the sits had many positive aspects but they weren't close enough to be comfortable.

  With my part in the renovations done it was time to get on our horses and get out of Dodge. City, that is. Not Dodge, the car. I've never been a fan of Chrysler products. Except the minivans. They're ok. But I digress. The open road was calling so we answered. When I say, "we answered", I mean we responded by leaving. We didn't actually answer. It's not like I stood on the road and whispered, "I hear you". That would be silly. C'mon. So, rather than say, "we answered", I'll say we got in the little red (orange) car and drove south into Trump country.

  We were committed to being in Florida by midday January 7 and I had arranged two motel stays so we'd have a relaxing trip with time for Atlas Obscura distractions along the way. Of course, the night before we left CNN informed us "the storm of the decade" was going to intrude on our plans. We decided to leave Bradford at stupid o'clock on Sunday morning to get ahead of it. It almost worked.

  As we approached Cincinnati on I-75 the weather closed in. Now, being a seasoned winter driver, a couple of inches of the white stuff isn't going to make me nervous.

  Back in the 1980's, while driving to a ski hill in Australia with my sister-in-law Wendy, we were stopped by the local constabulary who commanded us to install tire chains before going any further. You see, a half-inch of snow had fallen on the road that morning making it too  dangerous to navigate with regular summer tires. When I showed him my Canadian drivers' license he said, "Oh. You can go ahead." I had the same feeling when we crossed the Ohio river into Kentucky.

  The one hour trip across the mountains to Lexington became almost three as we crawled behind the world's slowest snowplows and avoided cars sliding sideways or spinning their wheels on every climb. By the time we reached Lex a total of five inches had fallen. Where we come from that happens four or five times every winter and we deal with it easily. This wasn't. Imagine driving through a snowstorm surrounded by a cars with driving school signs on their roofs. Now you get the picture.

  When we arrived at our motel I texted Jen to let her know we'd survived. She told me I deserved pizza and a beer. Good idea, except Lexingtonians were treating the weather as an extinction-level event. Everything was closed. Streets were deserted. We went out looking for dinner and our choices were reduced to a stale gas station sandwich or the McDonalds' drive-thru. Mickey D's won although the food we received was cold and tasteless. We should have travelled with a can of SPAM and some melba toast. It would have been tastier. No pizza and beer for Mikey.

  When we awoke Monday we found the car coated in three quarters of an inch of ice. Think William H. Macy with his ice scraper in Fargo. The Weather Channel was calling it a "weather emergency". Red screen. Lots of talking heads. The only weather-speak they didn't use was "Snowmageddon". They're saving that for February.

  I let the car warm up for ten minutes and easily cleared enough of the ice to get us out of there while the locals looked on, shaking their heads and marveling at our backwoods Canadian audacity. We loaded our beaver coats, maple syrup and birchbark canoe and launched ourselves out of the parking lot/skating rink, heading south, leaving the disaster area in our rear view mirror.

  I read later schools were to remain closed until Wednesday. What would these people do if they encountered real snow? We exited the storm area an hour later and, with temperatures on the rise, aimed ourselves at Florida's warm, sunny skies and sandy beaches.

  With ideal driving conditions ahead of us it was time for Atlas Obscura. There wasn't much. It looked like our best bet was to stop in Knoxville, TN where a giant Rubik's Cube had been erected for the 1982 World's Fair. We didn't find it as it's located somewhere inside the Convention Center and most of it was inaccessible while people milled around removing Christmas decorations. We did see a giant disco ball on a stick, so it wasn't a total loss.

  The Atlas also told us about a nearby junkyard that was littered with old wrecks that had  trees growing through them. It was said to be a very dramatic landscape worthy of a lot of Instagram-worthy photos. Also, it cost twenty bucks to see it. We gave it a miss.

  That night we stopped in, what we thought was, a quiet little burg named Cordele. We didn't know it at the time but the town was named after the daughter of a railroad magnate. It was also the only place along I-75 in Georgia offering passable motel rooms for less than $150. Ok, time for that pizza and beer I didn't get the previous evening.

  If you remember how our first house sitting excursion started, this was a repeat. We had left on our grand adventure and aimed ourselves at Delphos, OH, where we had once eaten incredible Mexican food, only to find everything closed because it was Memorial Day. We settled for Pizza Hut as it was the only thing available.

  This time, no pizza. The only pizza joint in town was Pizza Hut. Been there, done that, not doing it again. We settled for non-pizza, managed a beer, and headed back for a quiet night's sleep. Except not.

  We found out why Cordele's motel rooms were cheaper. It turns out Cordele, GA is a hub for many of the railroads that service the southeast US. Eighty freight trains a day pass through there, an average of more than three per hour. Twenty-four hours a day. Seven days a week. Each one blares it's sleep-inhibiting horn as it passes. Wikipedia also told us Cordele has the only railroad "diamond" in the South. People come from all over to see it. Not us. Give me a giant fork or a plane on a stick any day. Anyway, we almost managed a night's sleep and focused on the warm, sunny skies and sandy beaches that awaited us.

  Oh. About that warmth. Remember the giant, once-in-a-decade storm we drove through? Well, its cold air was following us. As we drove south the weather forecast for our destination changed, dropping 20F. Not so warm. Still sunny. Warmer than if we'd stayed in Canada but not warm.

  So here we are, safe and sound in Venice, FL, although not warm. The beach is still sandy and the sun is still shining but it's not lie-on-the-beach warm. It's more like you-still-need-a-jacket warm. I'm sure it will get better but the long-term forecast currently calls for more of the same for the next ten days. As I said, it's warmer than what we left behind us so no complaining. But it could be so much better.

  We have two cats to hang out with here but you'd never know it as they seem somewhat reserved, preferring to avoid us even when food is offered. They'll warm up to us but, if the weather is any indicator, it might take a while.

  Oh, last night I had my pizza and beer. Frozen pizza from Walmart but pizza just the same. I didn't want Jen to be disappointed.

  We're here for three weeks before moving across the state to another Florida sit. It should give us plenty of time for some deep-sea fishing, kayaking, golf, beachcombing and, hopefully, some of those buck-a-shuck oysters and two dollar Yeunglings we found on the Atlantic coast a year ago.

We have our priorities.

We're Still Here

   Yes. We're. Still. Here. In the Great White North. And it is. No, Donald, we're not on our way to becoming your 51st state. We don't have to be Great again as we've always been Great. Weather-wise, it has been White and North with lots of cold and snow this week. It's nice for a week but we're ready to leave this for warmer climes. Anyway, it's been almost a month since my last ramblings so it's time I brought you all, faithful readers, up to date.

  As you'll remember, I was busy with son David's basement. We broke things, built things and almost finished things. And then James' house happened so the focus shifted to a mad dash to get that house finished so he, Jen and the boys could get in there by Christmas.

  We broke what was already mostly broken, built a lot of new and, amazingly, have mostly finished. Three weeks from start to finish and almost all the upstairs areas are complete and we're down to paint and trim for most of the basement. I'm checking with the Guinness folk for world records on the renovation front.

  Part of the deal with their house is there's a large crawlspace just perfect for storage. Guess what? We have things to store. Remember this?

  Well, Jen, James, David and I spent a -20C day Sunday moving it all to their basement. Without frostbitten extremities we've accomplished almost Herculean tasks during December. Tired? You bet, but there will be plenty of time to sleep in January.

  We've been managing all this while house sitting in Toronto's east end... still. Yes, our seven weeks are almost up and I'm looking forward to ending the almost daily commute to Bradford. It's been a trial, not to mention a lot of gas, dragging my sorry butt 60 km through this city's ridiculous traffic each morning and evening. No more house sits in the city, he said, hopefully.

  This assignment has been comfortable and in a nice neighbourhood so no complaints. Except for Charlie, our furry charge. You see, as I noted earlier, Charlie is "food aggressive". The trouble is, he has a very broad understanding of "food". Penny made the mistake of reaching for a tissue that had fallen on the floor in front of him and he bit her. She insists it wasn't as bad as it looks but it should never have happened.

  We reported it to the owners and they were appropriately shocked. Based on the tone of their messages we were concerned they were going to put Charlie down when they returned, which would have been a massive overreaction. They have a grandchild on the way in the next few weeks and are very worried there could be another incident, more serious than this. Fortunately, cooler heads have prevailed and they have scheduled him for behavioural modification with a specialist in January. And Penny's hand has mostly healed so no lasting harm done.

  This is the first time we've had such an incident. None of the animals we've sat for has come close to attacking either of us, even the huge dog that almost pulled me over back in September. Hopefully this will be the only such incident.

  So, as I said, we're done here in a few days and then our great friends, Bryan and Sheila, arrive from Yellowknife on a stopover before yet another cruise to some exotic destination. While they're here we'll polish off a case of wine and share lots of laughs and some good food... in one night. Looking forward to it. This will be a new experience, having a hangover the morning of Dec. 31 rather than Jan. 1.

  We'll have a few days to recover before hitting the road on the 5th. Our first stop will be a spot on Florida's Gulf Coast for most of January. We'll be close to the beach with only cats to look after. I see sun, sand and margaritas in our future. It looks like we'll switch to the Atlantic coast after that for another ten days with a little Havanese like the one we sat for in Florida a year ago.

  We'll still have a two week gap to fill before heading up to North Carolina where we'll have a dog in a hundred acre forest for two weeks. Finally, the last two weeks of March will take us to Washington, DC, where we'll have more cats while we check out the cherry blossoms and government chaos up close. Sounds like lots of laughs, or maybe civil war. Who knows? At least it will be interesting.

  We have another grandchild on the way in April so we'll make sure to stick close by and, in May, we've been invited for a return engagement in Minnesota. This time I get to drive the tractor! And, we'll finally get to meet these people who we're starting to think of as friends even though we've never met. Life is truly full of wonder. We may also be sitting for them again in September so our 2025 calendar is already filling up.

  This year has been a bit of a trial. House sitting, for us, was supposed to entail spur of the moment travel to exotic destinations. Instead, we've struggled to find housing reasonably close to the kids so we could help them with their houses as much as possible. It's been fun and it reminds me of when they used to work for me when I was contracting. The house sitting, on the other hand, hasn't been much fun, especially for Penny, who's been saddled with watching over dogs while I swing hammers. Good and bad.

  With that, I'll close this episode with warm wishes to all of you and your families during this holiday season. Wherever we travel this will always be home. May the New Year bring you all good health and warm hearts.

Cheers.

Frustrations

  We all have things that annoy, irk, vex, exasperate or any of a thousand other adjectives that describe the stuff that makes us want to scream. This week hit a new high (low?) in frustration. I'll start at the beginning.

  Charlie, the dog, makes only one sound - a growl. It can be low, medium or harsh. It can indicate he's hungry, wants out, senses danger or, mostly, he's bored. I've told you all how he follows us around when we're in the kitchen but it gets better.

  Consider first that he gets fed at his normal, expected time. We let him out in the backyard about six times a day in addition to his daily walk. I've mentioned we're not allowed to have dogs, horses, cattle or any other semi-threatening animals displayed on the TV screen. You would think we've satisfied all his needs. No.

  When we sit at the table, regardless of the reason, he seems to take offence. He wants to sit with us on the couch. He sits on the floor between us and picks one of us to stare at like he's the Amazing Kreskin trying to read our minds. Then he starts the low growl. Then he'll get on his hind legs and put his paws on the table to ensure he has our attention. We've determined that if we a) throw his toys at him to catch and never return or b) sit on the couch the staring and growling stops.

  He's a fine dog and we like him. Sometimes, though, we don't like how he behaves. A little frustrating.

  Our sit here is done at the end of the year so I'm actively searching for our next destination. Because it will be January we're focused on someplace warm. That means we ignore, out of hand, all the unsolicited requests we receive from strangers on the house sitting platforms who want us to stay at their wonderful house in Edmonton, Buffalo, Thunder Bay, Fargo and similar snowbound retreats.

  Unfortunately, we're not the only folks looking for a warm escape from the winter. Literally every post I read where the location is warm attracts multiple applications immediately. The biggest platform, Trusted Housesitters, closes the post when it receives five responses so the poster can review them. In many cases it only takes a few minutes to reach that limit. That means I spend a lot of my time refreshing the listings to try to catch a tasty morsel before the vultures descend upon it. We've never had this issue before so I'm chalking it up to an increase in popularity for the house sitting life.

  Along with more house sitters there appear to be more homeowners posting house sits. Popularity swings both ways. In most cases now, unlike our previous experience, homeowners don't know how to deal with respondents effectively. It used to be an automatic that we'd be accepted for postings we applied to and, if we weren't, we'd get a nice message explaining how they'd found someone else who they preferred over us. No problem.

  Now, it seems, civility has been abandoned like we're in an American political campaign. We're being rejected out of hand, many times without explanation. I can deal with it. There's more people responding so there's more work for homeowners to find someone. A simple, "we found someone else" message would be nicer than the "rejected" message the platform sends us. But it gets better.

  We've had about six instances in the past couple of weeks where homeowners led us to believe we were "it" only to reject us without reason the next day. One person had us on a video chat for an hour, everything going swimmingly, only to tell us at the end she had nine more people to interview. We didn't get that either. I mean, she's looking for someone to look after cats. How hard can that be? She offers that litter only needs changing weekly, they're fine having three days worth of food in their bowls... this is not a demanding assignment. I guess she was looking for something we didn't possess, like a love of nineteenth century Russian literature or a hookah fetish.

  We have two video chats scheduled for this afternoon, one near a beach in Florida, both of whom seem to want us. We'll see how that goes. A little more frustrating.

  The topper was today. Because Penny turns 65 in January she'll qualify for Canada Pension. A few months ago we went to the appropriate government website to ensure all her info was correct. That's when the nightmare began.

  In order to access this site you must confirm the information our government has on file, starting with one of your parents' name at birth. Simple. We entered her mother's maiden name. Error. We entered her father's name. Error. We triple-checked everything else on the screen but, nope, those names were the problem. Next step, spend an hour on the phone waiting for a government functionary to confuse you.

  When, let's call him "Jacques", finally got on the line we explained the situation. He calmly reviewed everything and sent us to a webpage where we could update the info, requiring images of Penny's birth certificate and marriage license. We did it, submitted the changes and received a nice letter a few weeks later telling us all was fixed.

  We went back to the offending webpage, answered the questions just as we had weeks earlier, and voila! The secret passage opens and no grue awaits us. We checked her applications were correctly submitted then checked her mailing address. Uh oh. Old address. Well, we thought, that should be a simple online change of address form, right? Wrong.

  Clicking on the "Change address" link brings you to a page that says you can't do that here. Ok, there's an option to submit the change using a form that someone in the vast bureaucracy will review and enact the change. We clicked on that. Error 404. Way to go government of Canada. Apparently you have to go to a Service Canada office or call them on the phone because it's 1987.

  Well, no one wants to call them on the phone so Penny went to the office. Two hour wait. See ya. Now it's time to phone them, but wait! There's an option to have them call you. Done. Much easier. Amazingly, within a hour Penny's phone rings. Liking this even better.

  Penny explains she needs to change her pension address and the nice lady starts asking her security questions. The first one is, mother's maiden name. Uh oh. She gives it to her and is told she's wrong. Wait. She's wrong? Penny explains we went through all this and fixed the offending record. No, the nice lady says, it's not fixed. But wait, I say, we were able to log in to the webpage so the info on file must be right. The nice lady says we must be mistaken as it's not what she sees.

  This is where things start sliding downhill in a "you're not really hearing what you think you're hearing" kind of way. The nice lady tells Penny that she'll have to talk to someone in another department to fix this. We already did, Penny says, somewhat exasperatedly. The lady (no longer nice) tells Penny she can't do anything until this gets fixed. Penny is starting to lose it and the lady cautions her not to speak to her that way. The cliff looms.

  I ask if I can speak to the lady. I explain, slowly, using monosyllabic words, how we've already done the things she's asking. I explain that Penny tried to go to the office but had a life so a two hour wait was not in the cards. This is where it gets good. The lady asks if we called the number on the webpage. No, I explain, as there was an option for them to call us. That's why we're having this conversation. Well, she says, we should call the number. Penny and I look at each other like we're in an Abbott and Costello routine trying to figure out who's on first.

  Finally, we get past who should be calling whom and she deigns to look at the address record and tells us it was changed last week. Huh? No one changed anything. Oh yes, she says. The tax people updated it. With the old address. No, I say, I've seen the tax department webpage and it shows the correct address. No it doesn't she says. My head explodes, littering the dining room table with Who's on first, What's on second and I don't know's on third.

  This is the point where she finally decides she should do her job. She tells us to wait while she makes the necessary change. Huh? We had to go through all this idiocy and now she's going to do the change of address? We say thank you and the call ends. Alcohol beckons. Total frustration.

  It's been a trying week but I think the worst is behind us. I have a good feeling about the two people we'll be talking to today. I can almost feel the sand between my toes although I do feel like Lucy is holding that football I'm about to kick.

Autumn Musings

  I'm writing today because I feel I should. I don't have anything in particular to talk about but I get this itch that must be scratched.

  It's November in the city. Not warm. Not cold. Windy and cool with that dampness that gets inside you and makes you want hot soup or strong drink. November. It's like March without hope. Dreary. Edgar Allen Poe dreary. I half expect a raven to show up at the window and screech, "Nevermore!"

  We never planned to be spending this time of year here. It's not warm. There's no beach or drinks with umbrellas in our hands but circumstances dictate we stay until January, so here we are. It could be worse. We could be in Winnipeg.

  This past weekend saw us take our roadshow to the east end of Toronto. We're in a cozy wartime house in East York with a friendly but somewhat dumb cockapoo named Charlie.

  He's a bit weird. I've never met a dog that would stare at me. If I stare back at him his gaze remains fixed on me. I'm the alpha. He's supposed to avert his eyes if I stare at him. Doesn't he know the rules?

  He does know about food. If we venture across the kitchen threshold it's like an alarm goes off. Within seconds he's at our feet hoping something hits the floor. I mean, all dogs are optimists but this guy would be on the cover of Moochers Illustrated. If you listen to him whine when we're eating you'd think he never gets enough to eat but, as you can see, he certainly looks well-fed. I'm thinking of just feeding him an enormous bowl of food to see if he'll stop bugging us once it's gone.

  Also, Charlie's food aggressive. If he has something in his mouth don't even think of retrieving it. You have to trade him a dog treat to get what's in his mouth. I almost lost a hand when I tried to take a candy wrapper from him. "Nevermore", quoth Charlie.

  One other thing. Airtags. Since we're not Apple folk we don't use such devices so no experience with them until our last sit. The owners had one on the key ring. Every now and then it would chirp. The first few times I heard it I had no idea it was emanating from the key ring. I'd hear this sound and wander around trying to figure out where it was coming from, only to have it follow me. I'm sure I'm on a YouTube video entitled "Old Man Chasing Airtag in His Pocket". Probably got a million views by now. Lots of laughs. Anyway, Charlie has one on his collar. Not a fan.

  Charlie aside, we're in a nice old neighbourhood with schools and shops and old women who sweep their sidewalks and old men who rake leaves in the wind so they'll have something to do tomorrow. We haven't ventured down to Danforth where I'm sure there are cool cafes and such where we can sit outside, drink espresso and smoke a Gitane. Zut alors! We'll wait for a warmer day to check it out.

  This sit will last until the end of December so it qualifies as our longest. It's nice. We get to unpack, buy groceries that will last more than a week and make ourselves at home. The homeowners were nice enough to equip the kitchen with all the things we need, which is a significant improvement after places with missing and/or non-working appliances, etc. I may bake some bread while we're here.

  For those of you keeping track of David's basement we just finished prepping for drywall, which starts tomorrow. Demolition, framing, rough-in plumbing and electrical all done. Now I can relax. Oh, did I mention Jen and James are moving house at the beginning of December and renovations are scheduled to begin immediately upon their taking possession? And that's why we're not going anywhere until January. To paraphrase Lebron James, I'm not quite ready to take my talents to South Beach.

  Speaking of basketball, I'm in a fantasy hockey league. For those of you who don't know what that is, imagine yourself as a manager of an NHL hockey team. You get to pick your team from the pool of all NHL players. Your team gets points for goals, assists and all the other statistical thingies associated with the sport. Every week you compete against another manager's team as you will your players to collect more points than the other guys'.

  Until I started this thing I would watch the Leafs religiously, rarely missing a game, win or lose, hoping against hope that this would be the year the Stanley Cup came home. Now? Meh. I only have one Leaf on my roster and he doesn't generate many points. I'm more interested in some guy on the Las Vegas team, for God's sake. Hockey in Las Vegas? The world is broken.

  On that note, I was going to write about last week's U.S. election but what can I say? So I won't. I will say that we live in strange times. Not biblically strange, although I suspect 666 is tattooed under Donald Trump's orange hair helmet. Strange in terms of unfamiliar. Like you got off at the wrong subway stop on your way home from work. These days I feel like Florida is that train station, where up is down and nothing is as it should be. Its epicenter is Mar A Lago, the demon's lair where his acolytes come to kiss his ring.

  We've been diligently searching for a warm landing spot where we can escape winter after New Years. No luck so far and we fear we'll end up in the good ol' US of A once again. We were hoping for something more tropical, more exotic but as time ticks away we become more open-minded about our destination. If we end up in Florida I feel like we'll get a front row seat in the Twilight Zone. If nothing else it'll be warm. And interesting.

  So we take comfort in what we know. Family, friends, home, good food and drink. We take shelter in the familiar and wait out the storm. The forecast calls for things to get worse before they get better.

  Like November.

  Go Leafs Go.

  

Downtown in the 6ix

   We've moved. Again. We finished our stay by the lake in the west of Toronto a week ago, spent a couple of days at Jen's and now we're in the heart of the city in the middle of everything.

  For those of you who know downtown Toronto, we're in a condo building midway between the Dome and the Ex, next to Fort York. To our right, we're at eye level with the Gardiner Expressway and to our left is the old Tip Top Tailors. Not much of a view from our balcony but we're a short walk to lots of interesting stuff. Not too shabby.

  That's us on the left.

  Our current home is small and contains the necessities, although this is the first place without a toaster. Coffee comes from an espresso machine. Y'know... all the grinding and infusing and brewing to get an ounce of mud. A decent amount of coffee in the morning requires brewing six shots. Yep. We're awake.

  The young couple we're sitting for are very nice and I'm sure they spend a lot of their income at the local eating and drinking establishments so who needs cooking paraphernalia? I'm not sure I'd be that different if I lived around here.

  It's noisy here in the city. Traffic sounds drift in twenty-four hours a day. Sirens wail, commuter trains rumble, streetcar wheels squeal around corners. These are familiar noises I remember from growing up in the city but we've lived in Newmarket for thirty-five years and the difference is a little shocking. Of course, it's a trade-off. Newmarket's quiet... and boring. Life is noisy.

  This week's animal is a cute little cat named Belles. She's a bit shy but she likes to play and seems ok with entertaining us with her acrobatics. It's always nice sitting for a cat as we don't have to rush home for feedings and walks, etc. It allows us to do some exploring and, even though I've lived in the Toronto area for most of my life, there's lot around here that's new to me.

  Our first few days here have been spent with me running up to Bradford to continue with David's basement project. It's not a bad commute since I'm going against the grain. The ninety minute city-bound drive is only forty-five minutes going north. Maybe the sextuple espresso has something to do with that.

  Much progress has been made with all the old stuff having been finally torn out, new framing complete and plumbers in today to rough-in the bathroom. Since I can't work while they're jackhammering the floor Penny and I decided to do some exploring and we picked the perfect day for it, 22C and sunny which, for the end of October in Toronto, is... not too shabby.

  We're a ten minute walk to the new Stackt Market which is a series of shipping containers turned into boutiques, restaurants and bars with event spaces for bands. It looks like fun and we'll likely head down there this evening. We also headed to The Well for lunch, a new spot for international take-away eats that's received terrific reviews since it opened this past spring. I counted outlets for dishes from at least a dozen countries. No KFC, McDonalds, Taco Bell, etc. Real food. We even have a Japadog, which is a thing in Vancouver. If you were reading this blog last summer you'll now about my corn dog affliction. The Japanese version interests me.

  Our stroll took us north on Spadina Avenue through some gentrification and into the old Chinatown.

  This area, until the 1950's, was home to most of Toronto's Jewish community and has a lot of significance for my family history. Both my parents grew up near here. My mother worked at the Labor Lyceum as a bookkeeper when she met my father in 1948.

  They would have been married seventy-five years last week. My grandfather on my mother's side was the business manager for the garment workers' union and was instrumental in organizing it in the 1920's, shortly after he and my grandmother arrived from Poland.

  It's a fascinating area where the new mixes with the old. So many of the buildings have been repurposed for both commercial and residential use. It's a nice walk if you haven't spent much time down here. And for those of you upset with grocery prices, head down to one of the Chinese markets where you'll see prices the major supermarkets haven't seen in years, like a pint of strawberries for a dollar. If I lived down here I know where I'd be shopping!

  Of course, like all the walks we take in places familiar and unfamiliar, there's always a surprise in store. Here's an old friend of Toronto baseball fans, soon to be blocked out by a new condo building going up next door.

  We're only here a short time, back to Jen's on Tuesday for a short stay, before heading back to the city for a seven week stay which will take us to New Years. After that... who knows? Someplace warm, we hope.

Cheers!

The Hard Part Begins

   So here we are in the Big Smoke. We returned from Kelowna early Tuesday morning and headed to our next house sit where we'll be until Thursday. This time we're in a picturesque neighbourhood in the west end of Toronto right by Lake Ontario.

  It's what Penny and I call a "pokey" house. It's small and fairly crowded and not very well equipped. It's owned by a woman who doesn't live here and currently occupied by her divorced boyfriend and his dog while she lives in an apartment downtown. Don't ask. He's away in Vegas for ten days so we have the dog.

  It's easy to tell a single man lives here. There's no food to speak of in the fridge, no real cooking equipment, the oven barely works, etc. We're making do with it as we're not here long but it only took two hours for this place to supplant the house in Mobile as the worst one we've stayed in over the past year and a half. At least the dog is cool.

  Scout is a border collie mix who will chase balls endlessly, as they do. His ears are up in this picture because he thinks a ball is coming his way. Happy guy. The house backs onto a waterfront park that connects to Toronto's Waterfront Trail so lots of places to walk here.

  The views are beautiful and it's a fairly interesting area so it's a nice spot to land if you ignore the house. We're about forty-five minutes to Newmarket so it's not crazy far. It's about the same to Bradford, which leads me to the "hard part" in the title. As I've mentioned previously, we're here this fall because I'm helping David build out his basement living space. In order to do that there's demolition to do first and, since David hasn't had time to do any of it, I recruited my favourite breaker of things, Jen, to help.

  There are no "before" pictures to show so imagine there's this big room where a woodstove used to sit. If you're familiar with woodstoves you'll know they need to be surrounded by fireproof wall and floor materials. The previous owners decided, for reasons unknown, that "fireproof" meant "bombproof". Also, for reasons unknown, they decided the stove should be elevated eighteen inches above the basement's concrete floor. At this point it's important to know our suspicion this guy (it's a guy because a woman would ask how to do it properly so would not end up with such a monstrosity) was in construction as he had access to a raft of building materials.

  He started by building a clay brick wall, six feet down each of the corner walls, floor to ceiling. Then he placed concrete blocks, laid flat, over a six-by-six foot quarter-circle in the corner. Atop this he poured two and a half inches of concrete. On top of that he laid two layers of the same clay brick. To finish it off he took more of the clay brick, laid on end, and built an apron around the front face of this agglomeration to try and make it pretty. If you're doing the math that's about three cubic yards of brick and concrete just to have a fireproof spot for the wood stove. Extreme overkill? Given all he needed to do was tile about a hundred square feet of wall and floor, I think maybe yes.

  Remember David Letterman's "stupid pet tricks"? My late friend, John, who ran the building inspection department in a large suburb of Toronto, constantly came across stupid homeowner tricks and told me about them over a beer. I would ask why they did the stupid thing (because I needed to know) and he would say with a sad smile, "Why is hard." Well, the thing in David's basement was a stupid homeowner trick. Why was hard.

  So, after pulling down the drywalled ceiling so I can do some re-wiring next week, Jen and I went to work demolishing the equivalent of a small house's worth of foundation material. For those of you in the studio audience who wonder why we go to the gym... (make sure you turn up the sound for the whole effect)

  Jackhammer, sledge hammer, crowbar and broken fingernails were all employed in the task but, together, we beat the bastard. This is a small sample of the debris field.

  We could have used this as a first responder training centre. David already has a collie so we could ask Daisy if Jimmy was in the well. Look it up if you just got that "what the hell is he talking about" look on your face. Completely exhausted we left David and his friend Luke to clean up the mess.

  They did a great job and now it's on to removing the raised floor and a couple of walls this week before I start building. I'm feeling like it might be time to buy the economy size bottle of Advil...

  After Thursday we'll be back at Jen's for a bit then back downtown to a condo in the heart of Toronto's waterfront area before we head off to a house in Toronto's east end where we'll be until the end of the year. The plan is to have David's basement completed by December so Penny and I can head off to sunnier climes for the winter. That's the plan... we'll see how it goes.

  Stay tuned as I'll keep you all posted on the renovation as we turn this sow's ear into a silk purse.

Cheers!

Kelowna

   If you read the title you'll know where we've been the past week and a bit. Yes, beautiful Kelowna, BC. We've been staying in a house on top of a hill beside Okanagan Lake with two dogs and a cat. It's a pretty spot and it's the perfect time of year to be here. The weather's been great and the summer crowds are gone.

  Our trip west was interesting, to say the least. We had an early flight from Toronto that never got off the ground, literally. When we pushed back from the gate a sound issued from beneath our seats that was reminiscent of when the differential on my 1972 Triumph TR6 blew up, spewing gears all over the road. After a half hour the pilot informed us the splurfengang was moofing and we were going back to the gate so we could get on a different plane.

  It's important to note this plane had just come from the hangar -- I'm assuming it was there for maintenance. I guess someone forgot to tighten the flimflaggen or maybe the plane had a sign on it saying "Don't take this one". I'm guessing the half-filled coffee cup and monkey wrench lying on the floor in front of the plane wasn't a big enough clue to deter anyone. In any case it was broken.

  Our next plane was scheduled to leave ninety minutes later and it almost did. We boarded while they were rushing to load food carts from catering. I guess they didn't get finished as we sat there for an hour until they were done. Bottom line, we arrived four hours later than expected.

  This didn't really bother us since the homeowners informed us they weren't leaving until five o'clock. Of course, if they'd have told us that earlier, rather than their original estimate of noon, we'd have booked a later flight and saved ourselves the ridiculously early morning drive to the airport. As it turns out our late arrival gave us the perfect excuse for not spending the six hours with them our planned arrival time and their updated departure would have entailed. Instead, we spent an interminable ninety minutes making small talk with them, half of which was drowned out by their nine year-old's piano practice.

  But, back to the airport. As I said, we arrived late so I went off to get the rental car while Penny waited for baggage to arrive from the nether regions of the terminal. The nice man at the counter who, because we were late, didn't have the car we were supposed to get asked if I minded driving an SUV. With visions of some smallish thing like a RAV4 or Bronco I agreed and headed off back to the luggage carousel with giant key fobs in hand.

  After a short wait our bags appeared and we prepared to head off in search of our vehicle when a voice cried out "Penny!" from behind us. Actually the voice cried out twice as Penny  ignored it the first time, figuring no one in Kelowna would be looking for her. Surprise! It turns out my cousin Paul had arrived at the same time and was heading off to see his brother and nieces in the Kelowna area. Small world, as they say.

  Anyway, off to the parking lot we trudged, only to find our little SUV was the size of one of those dump trucks you see hauling tons of rocks out of strip mines. It was big enough to put two Hondas inside. It should have had one of those "This vehicle makes wide right turns" signs on the back. My friend Bill would have been right at home in it though as it was the same size as his Secret Service Suburban. Black too. Anyway, it was a Ford so I'm sure it was bigger... because they are. It's the kind of vehicle you need to park at the far end of the lot because you can't fit it into a regular parking space without knocking the door mirrors off of the neighbouring vehicles. We only had it for the day so we climbed aboard and prepared to roll over any cars that got in our way.

  When we arrived at the house we met our three charges, a six year-old Siberian Husky named Willow,

... a one year-old Welsh Corgi named Buffy,

... and a three year-old Bengal named Fezzik.

  I asked the cat if he wanted a peanut. He looked at me like I wanted to start a land war in Asia. If you don't get this look up "Fezzik" in Google.

  The animals are cute, friendly and entertaining. Buffy and Fezzik chase each other around the house and wrestle, barks and hisses echoing through the atrium-like living room.

  Willow's a sweetheart who just wants to lie in the sun and look charming. They're all pretty cool and Willow has ascended my list of favourite dogs, currently number two with a bullet, as they say.

  We're on top of a ridge that overlooks canyons and forests on one side and Okanagan Lake on the other. During last year's wildfires, which were concentrated in West Kelowna across the lake, enough embers blew across to start fires very close to our neighbourhood resulting in an evacuation. You can see evidence of it all around us.

  There are numerous old logging roads around us that have been converted to hiking trails. They're very scenic walks and the dogs love being out on them with us.

  At this point I should mention the reason we came across the country for a house sit. If you weren't following along before I'll reintroduce our friends from Yellowknife, Bryan (above) and Sheila.

  We try to meet up with them during our travels whenever possible as the NWT is a bit off the beaten path. Last September we stopped at their Calgary condo for a few days and this time they made the trek southwest to meet up with us here. We spent a lot of our time with them this week hanging out at the house eating, drinking, playing games and catching up.

  Like us, Bryan and Sheila are frequent travelers and they rarely celebrate their wedding anniversary at home so coming to Kelowna for their thirteenth seemed a natural. I mean, we flew four thousand kilometres for their wedding so it's only fitting they had to come twenty-five hundred kilometres to celebrate their anniversary with us, right? On Tuesday night we headed off to the Old Vines restaurant at Quails' Gate Winery for dinner.

  The food was terrific as were the wines and the scenery. It was a special evening and we're already looking forward to our next visit with them when they come to Toronto at the end of December.

  By Thursday they were on their way home leaving Penny and I on our own for the rest of our stay. Not ones to let an opportunity for some exploring go to waste we set about making plans for the remaining four days in the Okanagan.

  Our first stop was Okanagan Spirits Craft Distillery. Yes. More drinking. What choice did we have? We sampled some of their best grog including absinthe and, yes, absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. Sorry. Their main outlet and distillery is in Vernon and, since Paul had invited us up there for Friday, decided to put off any purchases until then.

  Friday morning we headed north up the Okanagan Valley on a very scenic drive along many charming lakes until we reached Vernon.

  We met up with Paul and our first stop took us to Planet Bee, a great place to stop if you're interested in honey. We bought a couple of different varieties and sampled some mead which they make using their honey. Well, this is no ordinary mead... as if mead were in any way ordinary. Pretty spectacular stuff so we bought some to take home. No idea if it will make it home and we might just end up drinking it all here, in this home.

  With honey done and dusted we headed off to meet Paul's nieces, Rachel and Arielle, for lunch downtown. Now, since Paul is my cousin that makes Rachel and Arielle my cousins too! New family. Cool! Now let me attempt to correctly define the relationships. Paul's grandmother on his father's side was my grandmother's (on my mother's side) sister. That makes him my second cousin. So far so good. As far as I can tell Rachel and Arielle are second cousins once removed. I mentioned to Paul he could also be a second cousin once removed if he left by the exit door. He stayed so he remains my second cousin, not removed. Did I mention it's cool discovering new family? We'll have to come back. There may be more family hiding out here.

  We bid the ladies adieu and headed off to the main outlet of the distillery, drank ourselves into a moderate stupor tasting all the different offerings, bought a few then walked some of it off on the Vernon Rail Trail.

  Our final weekend here started with a wander around the local Farmers' Market and I have to say it's a very impressive one at that. The assortment of fresh, local produce and interesting things to eat was a welcome change from the tired offerings and kitschy crafts we've seen at most North American markets. I'm not including markets we've seen outside N.A. as nothing we've seen on this continent can compare to them.

  Sunday morning, as we were preparing to leave for an afternoon of cycling on the Myra Canyon rail trail, Fezzik decided to show us his displeasure at not letting him outside.

  Scratch two houseplants. The homeowners call the cat "Little Shit" because of stuff like this. "What did that Little Shit do now?", seems to be a popular refrain here. He's a very smart cat so I have to respect that. For instance, he's figured out how to get the robot vac to start.

  Alas, he is such a little shit. When we leave we won't miss him very much. On the other hand I'd gladly take Willow home with me. Buffy, not so much.

  Anyway, after Penny cleaned up the mess we headed off for a beautiful afternoon of cycling. The Myra Canyon rail trail, a twelve kilometre (twenty-four return) stretch of the old Kettle Valley Railroad line, spans trestles and tunnels while it winds through the Myra Canyon. Since there was only one e-bike available I arranged for Penny to take it and I assumed the harder job of actually self-propelling myself along the route. It's a rail line so it's pretty level so not the worst thing in the world.

  It's a beautiful ride and I heartily recommend it to anyone who comes out this way during the spring and fall. It gets really hot in the summer so maybe not such a good idea then.

  The trail includes eighteen trestles like these above and two tunnels.

  Since it's been cool the past few nights the fall colours are on full display which made it a very vibrant scene.

  Also, we were up about four thousand feet above Kelowna so some spectacular views of the city, Okanagan Lake and the surrounding hills were available.

  Tomorrow we board the red eye flight back to T.O. and on to our next sit across the street from Lake Ontario in Toronto's Long Branch neighbourhood. We'll be charged with caring for another border collie named Scout so much ball-throwing and trail walking will ensue. I'll be starting work on son David's basement so much of the dog care will fall to Penny. I'm sure it won't be a chore in such a beautiful location.

  I'll miss Kelowna as it's a terrific spot amongst the mountains. There's skiing all around us in the winter and great hiking when the snow is gone. With wineries, microbreweries and distilleries there's always something interesting with which to wet your whistle and a cosmopolitan restaurant vibe as well.

  I won't miss Fezzik.

The Blame Game

   As you will remember from my last post, the dog at our current abode is somewhat of a challenge. Just a couple of days ago I had to, for the third time in ten days, restrain him from killing a fellow canine that had the misfortune of coming within earshot. This time it was the other dog's owner who was entirely to blame, letting his pet wander the streets unleashed. With Magnum, "unleashed" translates to "dinner".

  Although his behaviour is inexcusable from a dog-training perspective we were made aware that he might be a challenge when we accepted the assignment. Why did we accept it? The dates and location were ideal and far outweighed any concerns we had about the dog. We like to blame the owner for not properly socializing Magnum but we happily accepted the responsibility when we agreed to stay here.

  I'm focused on "blame" today as it seems to be the central focus in all our lives these days and I want to know how we got here. Think about it. While you do that I'll continue.

  Yesterday Penny and I went to dinner with friends. While we were driving I spotted a badge on a Mazda declaring it had "Skyactiv Technology". Some kind of earth-shattering thing only Mazda was capable of engineering, right? Look it up. I'll wait...

  Your Google search likely told you that brilliant Mazda engineers employ this technology to increase engine output while lowering emissions and increasing fuel economy. This concept is so revolutionary that the company trademarked it and plastered it on their products. Of course, no one else does this, right? Oh.

  Since the 1970's the EPA has mandated all car manufacturers who sell in the U.S. to lower emissions and raise fuel economy with ever-increasingly stringent standards. Also, since the 1990's all car manufacturers have striven to significantly increase engine output to compensate for the reduction in horsepower which results from lowering emissions and increasing fuel economy.

  The short story here is Mazda isn't doing anything different than every other car manufacturer in the world. They just thought it would give them a marketing edge by making it appear they were doing something magical and wonderful. They're doing what every business needs to do in order to be successful, that is, creating a perception that their product is better than their competition.

  All auto companies are using similar technology to accomplish the same goals as Mazda but they're not advertising it. It would be like saying "our car has four wheels". Are people buying Mazdas because of Skyactiv Technology? I hope not, but I suspect the answer is a resounding "yes". Who's to blame for this? It's not Mazda.

  Speaking of cars, Ontario's smiling Premier, Doug Ford, this week announced his intention to build a tunnel under the entire city, from east to west, to resolve the gridlock issue. What a great idea! The next day a knowledgeable engineer did a cost analysis and said it would require about $55 billion to accomplish this Herculean task.

  Let's remember it would be the government building this so, using virtually every other capital project as an example, we can assume the price will be closer to $100 billion by the time it's done. But there's more. How long will it take to tunnel about eighty kilometers under a thriving, gridlocked city? Ten years? Twenty? I'm going to go with twenty-five, knowing full well it will be at least thirty. Thirty years of construction, exacerbating the current traffic nightmare in the name of progress. If you think I'm out of line just Google "big dig Boston".

  Did Dougie actually ask anyone if this was a good idea or did he dream it up as a pre-election cookie to throw at the electorate since his $225 million beer-in-corner-stores gambit landed with a thud? Is adding another ten lanes of underground traffic going to solve our problem? Hardly. Give me $100 billion and I'll give you ten other proposals and all of them will make more sense.

  For example, you could buy 50 billion cheeseburgers at McDonalds. That's about seven for every person on the planet. Now, no one thinks babies should be eating cheeseburgers and let's assume there's a billion babies. More cheeseburgers for the rest of us! Thanks Doug!

  But seriously folks, what about trains and ferries? What about re-purposing the underutilized toll road that already exists? What about flying Google cars? What about molecular transporters like Star Trek? I threw those last two in because they'll likely be available long before this tunnel is finished.

  Who's to blame for this idiocy? Not Ford, that's for sure. He's only Dougie being Dougie. Advertising helped people decide to vote for him. He was Skyactiv. The electorate allowed itself to be conned and continues to do so.

  Governments exist to do the things for their people that those people can't do for themselves. People that think they can run the government become politicians. Maybe their motives are altruistic or maybe they're just power-hungry but they put themselves out there, ostensibly, as part of the solution. That's huge. Somebody has to do it and these people are volunteering. Good on ya. Really. We should applaud them and give them our support because it's a dirty job and someone has to do it.

  Oh wait. In order to win elections we want them to tell us why they're better than their opponents and we believe them, even though we just know our problems can't be solved as easily as they make it sound. They Skyactiv us. Bastards.

  There's an election coming up in the U.S. in five weeks and a significant portion of the electorate thinks a lying, misogynistic, incoherent con man and felon is the best choice to be the Leader Of The Free World. He lost the 2020 election to Joe Biden, who has overseen a successful  economic recovery on the heels of a once in a hundred years pandemic that shuttered the world for most of a year. Biden's reward: Let's Go Brandon. If you don't know what that means, ask Google. Americans think the economy is the biggest issue when, in reality, it's ignorance.

  Canada will go to the polls sometime in the next year. It looks like the incumbent Liberals will be shellacked by the redneck Conservatives. I say "redneck" because this isn't the Progressive Conservative party of yore. It might as well be called Republicans North as they use the same tactics and spew the same vitriol as Mr. Trump's cronies. Mr. Poilievre might as well change his name to Mini Me.

  For the past nine years we've had Justin Trudeau, who's heart seems to be in the right place but isn't very effective at actually accomplishing things. I guess that's supposed to justify the F**k Trudeau signs brandished on diesel smoke-billowing pickup trucks driven by those selfsame rednecks complaining about freedom. Freedom to do what? I want to see those imbeciles try that in China, or North Korea, or Hungary, or Russia, or any number of countries where people don't have the freedom to express their opinions freely. Let's Go Brandon... north.

  What's Trudeau's biggest sin, according to Mini Me? The carbon tax. "Axe The Tax" is the rallying cry. Except. Why is there a carbon tax? First, we're not alone. Many countries have started adding tariffs to imported products originating in countries who don't have carbon taxes. That means our products would become less competitive and reduce our exports.

  Economists, who know a lot more about this stuff than your average voter, say carbon taxes are the most effective way to change buying decisions. The additional cost attached to high carbon footprint products encourages people to buy less ecologically damaging products. Electric cars rather than gasoline-powered. Heat pumps instead of oil furnaces. Like that. But wait. The feds give us all a rebate at the end of the year that returns most of what the average consumer spent on the tax. The difference is minimal and not worth complaining about... or is it?

  The carbon tax is compounded. Every step of the manufacturing process pays it. Farmers have to buy fuel and fertilizer. Products have to be transported through manufacturing and  distribution chains and then to retailers. I could go on but the point is we end up paying so much more than the rebate we receive.

  It shows up in everything we buy, especially groceries. People blame greedy corporations for high grocery prices. Canadians have been complaining that they're being ripped off by Loblaws because they're making obscene profits. No they're not. Supermarket chains only earn 2-3% net profit. Check the financial reports for all the major grocery chains in 2019 and 2023 and you'll see it's consistent. Loblaws makes more money because they have more outlets. It's the same percentage of a much larger number than their competitors. Then why are prices so much higher than they were five years ago?

  Well, there's the aforementioned carbon tax which is compounded through every step of the production and distribution chain. The minimum wage has increased by 20% which is applied to every person working in all those parts of the chain. Interest rates increased by 75% over that period impacting every entity that borrows money. In short, a host of factors led to retail price increases because no corporation absorbs those costs without passing them on.

  Getting back to blame, who's fault is all this? Is it Justin's? Joe's? No. It's us. We demanded our politicians do something about greenhouse gases. We wanted a higher minimum wage. We overheated the housing market after COVID by spiking demand, forcing the central banks to raise interest rates to cool the market. That spike in house prices and interest rates led to fewer people able to afford real estate and forced them to rent. Increased demand for rental properties caused rents to spike as well. We demanded products when supply chains weren't functioning properly and were willing to pay higher prices rather than do without until things returned to normal.

  And now we cry at our politicians to fix all this. Where's the affordable housing? Why are prices so high? Why can't we afford rent? Why is gasoline so expensive. Whining. We demanded these things and now we have to live with the consequences. It's unreasonable to expect politicians to fix the things that market forces and our collective demands have caused. We have an unsustainably high standard of living.

  Blame. There's lots of blame to go around. Did anyone see this coming? I don't think anyone had COVID on their bingo card. We're living in the fallout and there's no magic Skyactiv to fix it. Any politician who says they have a solution is lying.

  Back to the dog. He's a good dog as long as there are no other dogs. There's no blame to place here. We're adults. We gathered all the available information and made an informed decision for which we accept the consequences. Remember that next time you vote.

  By the way, I have nothing personal against Mazdas. I'm sure they're fine cars. But, if I were ever to buy one I know the "Skyactiv Technology" badge would not be the deciding factor.

   Also, a shout out to my lovely wife who listens to my rants, corrects my grammar and puts me in my place when I get high and mighty. If her fingerprints weren't on these missives I doubt you'd have followed along until now.

  Thursday we wing our way off to Kelowna in search of new adventures. Stay tuned.

Cheers.