Ah well! I had a blast while away and thats that. And I like my job. I can only imagine how it must be to return to a job you hate.
The Train Up
The trip started the same way last year's did. I drove my Ex, Mister, and Lamb to Windsor and we caught a train to Toronto . From there I'd get them on the train north to visit their grandfather on his island. Then I'd be on my own in Toronto to relax among concrete and lights instead of water and isolation. I'm not much for roughing it. Heck, even in the Guard, our platoon had such good movies that troops in their off hours came to our GP medium instead of the morale tent!
This year was different. My Ex didnt like last year's rushed schedule. She booked her train tickets to provide a day in Toronto. I can't say I was thrilled with that much togetherness. I get along well with my ex wife but we are exes, after all. But I resolved to make the best of it. We figured I could take Mister to the Hockey Hall of Fame while Lamb and my Ex went shopping. I looked up some other stuff, too, since I remembered from my lake tour last year that there were rides on one of the Toronto islands. I looked it up and it looked pretty cool. We parental units decided that would be the main afternoon event. I ordered Canadian money from my bank a week ahead of time. I even stopped my mail. Man, I was well prepared!
But my bank failed me. Detroit sent Euros up to my branch in Lansing instead of Canadian dollars (life is weird when your main branch bank is seventy miles from home). I almost took the Euros. Hey, I'm going to have to go to a bank in Toronto anyway, right? Why not play the Latvian exile or something (is Latvia even in the Euro zone?)? In the end I just kept my green backs.
Canadian Customs was no match for me, natch. What I didnt know is that my Ex was smuggling a couple cans of Miller beer in her luggage. So I in fact lied to Canadian officials. What evils could I have faced had we been searched? Really, I was more worried about the laughter that would ensue from Canadian officials who would think I was involved with smuggling cheap American beer into Canada ! What nutcase would do that rather than buy Canadian beer in Canada! People go to Canada to bring beer back here--not the other way around. But I was spared that indignity. Next year I secretly search my Ex's bags and quietly remove the beer. I'll replace them with Clamato cans. Heh.
In our search for a mall to buy lunches for the kids, I managed to locate a bank in the strip mall and exchange my money before we got on the train. And I even managed to find my way back to the station. And given my sense of direction, it was no small feat to remember how to get back to the main road, I tell you. With a map I can't fail to land navigate properly. Without a map, I get turned around all too easily getting off of elevators, I'm afraid.
The train ride to Toronto went well. We brought lunches to avoid the thin gruel they sell on the trip. Lamb was not interested in her fare, so I hauled out my emergency peanut butter and jelly and that went over really well with her. And I brought books for Mister and Lamb, as well as little notebooks and crayons. The notebooks were a surprising hit as Mister and his mom played a circles game and Lamb and I played tic tac toe. Later, when Lamb fell asleep, Mister taught me the circles game and he beat me every time. He's a bright kid! Mister also drew cartoon monsters that he planned to market and thus make him rich. I remember the burning desire to get rich when I was young. I even bought the book Think and Grow Rich. Man, did none of that stuff take hold.
Arriving in Toronto and the Kid Portion of My Tour
Once at Toronto , I led us to our hotel near the lake. I finally realize why getting hotels was a little dicey. The annual Caribana Festival was that weekend, celebrating Caribbean music and food. Ugh to both. I don't care for jerked music or whatever it is. The festival was much bigger than I'd thought it would be. We had nice rooms with Mister and I staying in one room and the lasses keeping the other room. We ate dinner in the really expensive hotel restaurant. I will say the wait staff was quite attentive. As I always say, you can only spend so much on food before you are just paying to have guys standing around in tuxedos. After eating, went swimming at the large pool. It was really cool since they had a bin of swimming accessories for kids. Mister grabbed float noodles and I put Lamb in a swim vest so she could float around on her own. Mister and I horsed around and then Lamb enjoyed jumping in the pool in her vest with me to catch her after she hit the water. It was a late bed time and in the morning we walked across the street to a little store with tables outside for breakfast. Lamb enjoyed watching the pigeons eat bread scraps from our breakfast.
We walked up to the downtown areas to find a bank to exchange money for my Ex. Once we did that, Mister and I headed for the hall of fame and Ex and Lamb went to find a market. We would meet in a little over two hours at the Sheraton to get lunch.
The Hall of Fame was great. Mister loved the time line of the NHL:
We could have spent five hours just in the theater watching the movies of hockey history! Mister made an effort to do play-by-play for a hockey game and I emailed it home so we could watch it after the vacation. And we had to hit the gift shop which ate into our limited time. But after the timeline success, I wanted to get Mister a hockey book. We found a good one with history and rules and techniques, which was a big hit. Plus Red Wings pens for Mister and Lamb and a little bracelet for Lamb.
Then we raced off through the underground PATH to make our rendezvous with mom and sister. I remembered the path logic and one of the tricky spots where you have to go west or east with no apparent northern option (blue is north, by the way). Mister loved the PATH. I dont know why. It's neat, but just an underground mall and I could have gotten us to our destination faster above ground. But we went underground.
Lamb and her mom ate while we were at hockey heaven. But Mister and I still needed to eat so we grabbed food in the underground--the only time I ate in the dungeon. In past years I went there, but this year I wanted to avoid the underground. But we needed to eat fast to get to the island park.
We made it to the ferry dock and had a nice ride across to the island. As it turned out, the park has lots of stuff to do including beaches and a clothing optional beach. We went to the park. It had tons of rides and not just the half dozen mentioned on their web site. It was absolutely fantastic. We bought the unlimited ride passes and hit all kinds of rides. A log ride, a train, cars and fire engines, bumper cars, a merry go round, boat rides, a small roller coaster, and others. On the bumper cars there were only a few of us and I didn't have the heart to ram the other kids so I just evaded them--striking a glancing blow against one boy only after he rammed me! Hey, I can retaliate, can't I? My favorite was the log ride. Mister liked that one, too. Lamb liked the carousel.
This is Mister on the park train.
And Lamb and her mom on the swan boat.
One really amazing sight was a family of hippies. I don't even see this in Ann Arbor anymore so this was quite a shock. When I say family of hippies, I'm quite serious. There was a dad, a mom, a boy, and a girl. They all wore bright tie-dyed t-shirts. I only really remember the dad. He had wire-rimmed glasses and a graying long perm with a head band to pull it all in. It was amazing. The kids were still young enough to just go along but I wonder what they will think of this in a few years. Surely they notice that tie-dye is not exactly common. Or maybe theres a colony of hippies left over from the Vietnam War. Heck, maybe they were Canadian hippies. But I digress.
We went late into the night, eating dinner at the island on the patio overlooking the Toronto skyline in the fading light. I love city lights! (This is in the day from last year):
This beats this (as nice as it is; from two years ago) any day:
A late night ferry ride home took us to shore after a detour to the airport island and once on the mainland it was only a short walk to the hotel. We went to bed to be ready for an early morning walk to the train station.
In the morning it was a rush of showers, a quick trip to a grocery store, and a fast walk to the station. I got the kids and their mom to the station in time for boarding and they were off on an all-day trip. It was tough to watch the kids leave but I knew they'd have fun. And sadly, unlike last year, I could not accompany them to the train to help them get bags and children on the train--thats what catching a bunch of Toronto jihadis recently will do to us on an ordinary level. And I knew I wouldn't care for the island despite my invitation--I'd been there before Mister was born and twice I'd taken Mister up there myself.
On My Own. Day One
I grabbed breakfast, returned to the hotel, stole the soaps, and packed. I checked out for both rooms and headed out before the parade started!
I made it up to my new hotel for the rest of my stay but the room was not ready yet. I checked my bags and went out to explore. I walked for two hours, east on King and then north to Queen and then north up Church. One thing that struck me on this trip was that Canadians are not polite. Grim-faced clerks would really smile broadly when I smiled at them and said please and thank you. It was like they never heard politeness. Anyway, my pre-trip research said this was a club zone but it was a little off, if you know what I mean. Lots of men in pairs. Not that theres anything wrong with that, of course--you know the Seinfeld routine. But I decided that this was not the place for bar hopping as a solitary man. So my recon already scrubbed my plan for the night.
I headed down Bloor where I experienced the first of as number of requests for directions. I didn't know I looked so Canadian. Who knew? I blew this first one. Had I been asked an hour later I could have answered, but I was still getting my bearings. All the rest I answered successfully on the trip.
Then I went down Yonge. This is the main drag and has lots of weirdness to attract tourists. I wanted to avoid this area if at all possible. Not that Im morally opposed to all-nude girls dancing. Don't get me wrong. But that sure sounded expensive and I wanted to avoid the main tourist area. Funny enough as it turns out, my niece and her boyfriend hopped down Yonge that night. I had no idea they went to Toronto the same weekend.
Rolling west down Queen into the entertainment district, I checked out some areas Id meant to visit last year. Those plans were cancelled when I was hit with Bells Palsy and went to the emergency room, thinking I might have just had a stroke. Actually, I didnt think I'd had a stroke, and judged I'd severed a nerve somehow. Being a history major, I was really interested in getting professional help just in case my diagnosis was wrong. Boy was I right, as it turned out. A nerve was cut. But I worried about the worst until informed it wasn't. The emergency room people were great but left me with the impression that I probably wouldn't get better from where I was. My doctor at home clued me in and I recovered fully in a couple months. Anyway, by coincidence my hotel via Priceline was a block from the hospital I went to last year!
So I explored. And by chance found the place I'd spend Saturday night atan Irish pub off of King Street . I needed lunch and wanted to start drinking too, so the outside table seemed a great place to hang out until I was sure my room was ready. I stood at the corner debating and when I saw the stunning waitress that ended the debate real fast. Wow. The short skirt didn't hurt her looks one bit at all.
I sat down and unpacked my book and looked up at her when she approached me. I took off my sun glasses to say hi and she actually kind of lost her composure trying to say hello. She smiled a lot at me. It was dead, so we chatted and she told me I had great eyes. I've gotten this reaction before--including once when I really needed to hear something like that when my marriage was breaking down. A young, blonde, very earnest and cute activist tried to explain the perils to our environment on my porch and then she just stopped in mid-speech to say, "Your eyes are so blue!" All within ear shot of my then-wife. Heh. To avoid appearing boastful, I freely admit that if my eyes are my only good part, thats a pretty small percentage of my body mass
Anyway. This was my kind of sightseeing. She kept looking over her shoulder when shed walk away after checking on me. And after I asked her about the tattoo on her waist in back, she explained and then fairly skipped away on her toes, grinning. I'm usually pretty dense about these things, but she seemed to be attracted to me. Dang. She was maybe half my age so I guess my ego got a needed boost over this.
So I ate, drank, and flirted shamelessly. I asked about the band that was on the board to play that night and wondered if this was a kind of bar shed go to on a Saturday night. She said yes and I replied that I knew where I was going that night. After a couple hours of eating, drinking, reading, and chatting, I headed for my hotel to check in.
My hotel room was amazing. It was half again as long as my condos main room! It was narrower but dang it was nice! I noticed later that downtown Toronto condos of 600 square feet seemed to go for $220,000 ( US )! My hotel room lacked only a kitchen to match that.
I double checked Yonge Street for any good attractions, then changed and walked to the Irish pub to check out the band and night life. The Irish pub that night was pretty cool. A good band played songs I knew--some recent and some older--to what appeared to be a local twenty-something crowd. And true to her word, the bar was a place my waitress from earlier would go to on a Saturday night. So that was good. The whole experience took me back to college days of live bands at bars. That would explain my three years as a sophomore, of course.
I didn't quite close the bar, but it was a grand time. I will return to this pub next year.
Funny enough, at that very time, my niece was in Toronto too, rolling up Yonge Street . I didnt find this out until after I got home.
Day Two
With too little sleep, I headed out the door the next day to check out Old Fort York. It turned out to be about a 45 minute walk and I stopped at a semi-dive I found on the way for breakfast. The fort is fairly small but had good displays and excellent tours. One of the guides had a major in American history and he really knew his fortifications. I quizzed him at length on various aspects of the design and he seemed to appreciate being able to go off on details of what he knew. A lot of their tourists are kids on birthday parties on the site much like any kid place will offer. I went on all the tours and explored all the ramparts. The demonstrations were good, too, especially the musket and cannon firings. Here are the infantry demonstrating skirmish tactics:
I wrapped up after about four hours and headed for home, stopping for an iced cappuccino and donut from a Tim Horton. Looking for lunch a little while later, I tried the Irish pub but it was closed! Drat. I marched down to Front and Church to see what was there and found a lot of places to choose from. I picked C'est What? and had a couple beers with dinner while I read my book. It was pretty dead at the time but this had promise for a future visit. I went back to my hotel a little melancholy, actually. I sat down and watched a couple Friends reruns on TV and contemplated that as much as I had enjoyed the single bar scene, I was not in fact in college anymore. I don't feel old. I don't think I look particularly old. But I am not a kid anymore. Where did the time go? It really seemed like yesterday that I was listening to some of the same music as the night before in Ann Arbor bars with college friends. Well, actually I still do that. I mean with my college friends who were once college-aged, too. But back then I was counting on other people buying me beer. And here I am, with a mortgage and a son who is shooting up in height every day, some published articles under my belt, a job requiring a suit and tie that I've been at for fifteen years, and I do not get carded. My cat, who I'd gotten when I was about 22, died three years ago. He was almost like a relic of my single youth. If he could grow to a ripe old age and die, what happened to my youth?
So there I was, on the edge of just feeling sorry for myself and withdrawing from the world to watch sitcoms in an expensive hotel room in another city. Comes from being part Irish, I think. And drinking. Which may relate to the first reason, actually!
But instead of surrendering, I roused myself and changed clothes and headed back to the entertainment district. This time I'd do a proper pub crawl. I started with the Rex Hotel , which has jazz and blues bands, to watch the Shannon Butcher Trio. Her voice was absolutely beautiful. But after her set and a couple pints, I had to move on. The heat without air conditioning was just miserable. Perhaps for the Blues that was a deliberate decision to heighten the melancholy ambience. But what really got me to leave was the sight of the Vin Diesel clone complete with tight t-shirt, rippling muscles, and a shaved head bringing in a small case. He was apparently in the next band. Or he had a compact automatic weapon in that case. Could go either way, I thought. Best not to take chances. Me being unarmed and all. Sure, I knew how to get to the emergency room in Toronto but I was hoping to cut my streak at one. Before coming to Toronto I'd planned on doing some time here. But it was clearly time to go.
So I booked west on Queen Street. I was looking for the Rivoli which I had read had some comedy act that night. This would have been a planned stop, too. When I got there it was big and crowded and for some reason not appealing. So instead I walked down a random side street leading south to King. Before I got there I found one of several versions of an F and F bar. Strangely, I saw several bars that had compound names using Fs for each word. Fox and Farthing. Friar and Flagon. I forget which one I found and since I paid cash I won't have a credit card to remind me. But it did have a Sunday-night stand-up comedy gig scheduled so I decided on this place.
I sat at the bar away from the stage but near what appeared to be a gaggle of aspiring comics preparing to go on for 6 minutes. Most weren't very good--even with beer to help. On the other hand, only one guy made a crack about President Bush and even that didn't get a laugh. But some had a joke or two that had promise if they worked on the delivery, wording, or timing. And one young guy was pretty good during his 6 or 7 minutes on stage. Pretty rough around the edges but actually funny. I had to congratulate him when he came off the stage. With my eyes still a little wet from laughing so hard, I told him, "Dude, you were really funny." He smiled and thanked me. No better compliment for an aspiring comic, eh?
What was most interesting was listening to the comics discuss their trade. They were mostly young guys. One was a college dropout who did so to have time to work on his act. Why that couldn't be done after classes I don't know, but here he was. They appeared at different places to do their acts and it seemed like they spent considerable time working on their jokes. They approached jokes like objects they tried to craft in molds of social commentary or theoretical frameworks based on emotions versus the physical or men versus women. They used their experiences as being unemployed or old or moms or suburban youth to try and pull humor from their own lives. They were very serious about comedy.
With the comedy show over, I wanted one more stop before heading to the hotel. I wanted to get in one last bar since I didn't know what the Monday holiday even was and what impact it would have on places to go. Sadly again, my new favorite Toronto Irish pub was closed. And on a Sunday of a three-day weekend! This night was pretty hopping so I was surprised at the closing.
Oh well, it was getting close to 1:00 am so I called it a night without stopping at another bar on the way back. I had a smashing good time again and the pointless angst that I had flirted with was gone. I felt good about disposing of that. It angered me that I had almost succumbed to whiny self-pity. I always say I'm a lucky man and I believe it. Life is good. And there I was almost ready to trade in Gen X upbringing for Baby Boomer self indulgence (Erm, so what is this blog post about anyway then, if not you? Shhh. I'm on a roll here! Work with me!)? When fun was my alternative? Hah. Fun beat moody withdrawal and I'm glad it did.
Last Day
My last day on my own had arrived and Id not been felled by any strange disease. I'd already walked by two hospitals and nothing degenerated while I walked. Woo Hoo! I was just very noticeably relaxed. With no work or family responsibilities, I could just do what I wanted without needing to be anywhere or do anything. It was nice. Years ago, I read that the opposite of freedom isnt slavery--it is responsibility. There is a lot of truth to that, I think. I even joked to myself that getting Bells Palsy last year was God's way of telling me not to get used to just having too much fun. Indeed, on a date right before I went to Toronto last year, I'd discussed the concept with the women I was with. Its like you can get used to any burden and as long as you keep carrying it, you dont notice it as much. It is when you set the burden down that you notice it and then picking it up again becomes tougher because it is noticeable. Since I've been back I've been content to resume work responsibilities and glad to resume parental responsibilities. So setting down my lifes burdens was not crippling at all.
So on whatever holiday it was in Canada , I set out for the daily non-bar events. Today was supposed to be the still-under-renovation Ontario Art Museum, used book stores, and maybe the Royal Ontario Museum .
On the way I bought a couple souvenir t-shirts. The art museum was closed for the holiday so that blew one plan. So I returned to Yonge Street to search the book stores. Since I was quite young I've had a bunch of military history books called Ballantines History of World War II--or later History of the Violent Century when they branched out. They are well illustrated with maps, drawings, and pictures. And the text is first-rate, being written by well known and respected historians. I've loved these books since before I was a teenager and ever since for research and enjoyment. I have a couple dozen and the last one I found was one I found in Toronto probably ten years ago. Last year I struck out and even though I was half-convinced they were lost to the ages, I tried again. I had no luck in the first three (or was it only two?) stores. The first store had lots of interesting stuff and I almost bought some books just to buy something. But I held off.
And I'm glad I did. In the last store I found that day, I went into one store and the main floor had nothing. There were two more floors but you had to check your bags if you went off the first floor. After not finding any of these books for a decade and having no luck today, I debated the hassle of checking my bag of t-shirts. Oh what the heck. Nothing on the second floor. So I head up and find military history and history. Wandering down the aisle, I dont see the distinctive spine of the set. Then I rounded the end of the shelf and there they were, a about a foot-and-a-half of the series! In good shape with multiple copies! I started snatching titles off the shelf. I skipped some I had. With a half dozen books in hand I even passed on a few that were less interesting to me. These were titles that if Id just found them I would have gleefully picked them up. But in my book gluttony I could pass by the lesser ones. Besides, it gives me a reason to return to the store next year. If still there, I'll happy to buy them rather than just thinking I should buy them. And to add to my pleasure, the prices on the books had recently been reduced by 3 bucks each because they weren't selling. Weren't selling? The fools! These books arent anything special, but they are one of two things I collect in a haphazard way. Which means I dont use E-Bay and just count on chance to pick them up. Really, its more the thrill of looking and finding than actually owning. E-Bay turns it all on its head. Feh.
With my purchasing success in hand, I debated returning all the way to my hotel to dump my purchases. But with feet sore from days of walking, literally throbbing with each step, I decided the burden to my fingers was worth avoiding the hour walk it would take to return to my current spot. I walked up to Bloor and headed west.
I was looking for a place to get a chocolate shake or, preferably, a malt. I'd drank but one since arriving though I'd vowed to have a large one every day as I did last year. No luck. Before long, I ran into the Royal Ontario Museum . So I wandered down to it. The place, too, was under renovation. The price was a little lower than usual and there wasn't the usual last hour free deal I'd read about. I wasn't sure how much I could enjoy at full price. So I bought a large hot dog and chips, sat under a tree, ate, and contemplated what to do. I'd bought books and the art museum was closed. So if I didn't go here I'd have to figure out what to do the rest of the afternoon. Heck, I was right here and it was cheaper than I'd expected. And I hadn't spent on admission to the art place. So what the heck?
I paid my money and went inside. I skipped the Japanese and Chinese exhibits. I don't know why but artifacts from those regions don't appeal to me. Rome was closed. But Egypt and the Greeks were open. The explanatory material with each exhibit was pretty good with occasional recordings you could listen to. My ancient civilizations class helped a bit with context. One exhibit that I really liked and which reminded me why I am always dissatisfied with museums had a recreation of one of the artifacts--a little painting on a tablet. The artifact was dull and faded. The recreation with the original was bright and colorful as it would have been thousands of years ago. It was vibrant. Alive. It is something you'd want to have decorate your home if you were an ancient Egyptian. This is what bugs me about artifacts in museums. You see these things, cups, tools, and what-not, that were sometimes cheaply made for the masses. And what you see are dirty, chipped, and faded pieces. And I think, how sad. This is how they lived. In a sea of browns and faint colors. According to our museums, that is. There is just no way this is true.
A huge wall drawing made by a Pharaoh really gave the game away. It should have been bright to boldly telling a story of a great trade expedition to Somalia . The exotic animals and the strange foreigners should have stood out. Instead, I could barely follow the tale in the faint drawings with huge gaps in places as related by the recording.
So really, when new, I'm sure these items looked appealing to the people who bought them. Have people changed so much to have once not cared about how their belongings looked? They did color their objects, taking the time to make dyes, after all, and special glazes. I would love to see these items as archeologists think they looked when new. Then we'd see history. Not the faded land-fill refugees that we put in our museums today. Our ancestors were not artifacts. But we make them seem so very different from ourselves when we look at the crumbling artifacts we display. We should have replicas that bring the past alive and not dusty but real garbage. There's something wrong with our approach.
And the armor and weapons section was pretty cool. Plus I liked the furniture through the ages. It was neat to see the progression of unique items for the wealthy to mass produced for the middle classes. Hundreds of years ago, they too made miniature furniture for their children! See? Not too different. And so much was gaudy in its color or busy patterns. Color was important hundreds of years ago. It had to be thousands of years ago, too.
I checked out the gift shop but restrained myself from buying something just to buy. I saw nothing of real interest so just left.
After a few hours at the museum, I walked south through the university area--again giving directions to a lost soul. I even found a bar with cheap $3.00 burgers on special. Wow! I'll try to remember this place for next time to try. I wanted to start the evening pub run with dinner at a Greek restaurant I discovered on Queen last year. It was a mom and pop operation and quite empty when I went in. I was actually guilty last year that I couldn't finish my meal because I was quite stuffed to the gill from eating so much--trying to eat three big meals each day. It was so good I vowed to come back hungry this year.
I found the place. Or rather, where it used to be. It was now some slick quaintly named bar and grill. A burger and a couple pints worked for me. A good place but I miss the hole in the wall that I barely knew.
It was time to return to the hotel and dump my purchases. All I wanted now was some quiet pub time to hoist a few more pints, relax, and read. I went back to Cest What? And had blue chips and salsa plus some micro brews to pass the evening. Again, the place was rather empty so I dont know when they make their money.
This time I wrapped up my night a little after 11:00 and headed home. I packed up a bit and gathered my stuff to prepare for checking out.
Going Home
I overslept a little so I didnt have any chance to really do anything in the morning. I stumbled down to the Tim Horton for coffee and a pastry and discovered I had to dodge real work-day traffic and endure a huge line of people on their work day. It was 9:30 or so and I wondered just when do Torontonians start their work day? Shouldn't they all be sitting in front of a computer screen by now?? Why is it so busy? I ordered quickly like a resident and moved on, not holding up the line for even a moment by giving away my tourist status.
I packed all my dirty laundry, spare clothes that I miraculously hadn't needed, soaps and shampoo, and souvenirs. I had room for everything! I checked out quickly and left my great hotel with the huge room. I never did get a chance to try out the hotel bar, but oh well.
I went to some unfamiliar sandwich chain store and bought a decent lunch for the train ride back to Windsor . I lugged my stuff through Toronto s streets back to Union Station. After finding my gate, I returned outside, sat down, and read the Globe and Mail, watching people stroll by. One last bit of vacation.
Once on the train, I picked a seat and hauled out my book. I read, ate lunch, watched the scenery, and napped a bit. I could feel the relaxation ending when for the first time in days I thought of things I needed to do at work when I got back. Sigh. Work beckons.
The train was delayed so I was entering rush hour when I got to Detroit. U.S. customs questioned me a bit and then waved me through. Fifty miles later I was back in Ann Arbor with no mail piling up in my mailbox. Yes, the Post Office came through.
Looking at condo prices is always a kind of an exercise to wonder if I could ever live there. But I know that vacation is not the same as living there. I couldn't keep up the pace of activity and spending! And since so many Toronto residents flee out of the city each weekend for cabins, the locals dont see downtown living as especially thrilling. But it is nice to think about. As the credit card bills roll in, I'll be reminded that vacation is not the same as just hanging around. Still, I think I'll like retirement when I reach it! But until then, I still love being a dad despite the fun I had without responsibilities. So really, God, no need to afflict me with SARS or some other Canadian disease to remind me that we all have burdens we must carry. I've saddled up and I'm marching on.
