back to the moment
It’s probably silly to lament summer’s passage on a sweltering day, one where the air conditioning kicked in by lunchtime and the humidity is tacking another ten degrees onto the ‘feels like’ count.
and the dust
It has been a busy week or two of crap-riddance here at the Awesome household.
As with most persons of a certain age, we’ve done our share of junk collecting. Paper that seemed important once, storage apparatuses that managed to remain upright as long as we didn’t look at them, ill-advised gifts from well-meaning folks who would have been better off giving us wine – you name it and we’ve held on to it, moving from apartment to apartment to house to condo to house, even from city to city (Kingston was our university town, and university furniture is still stickin’ around, even though Ottawa has been home for… christ, nine years?)
I decided it was time. Time to clear out the basement, where most of this detritus was left to decay. A trip to IKEA prompted a critical re-examination of a few shelving units that were leaning towers of don’t let the kids get too close to that – replacement without prejudice, people. Ample opportunity to examine the contents of said shelves and just say no. Garbage day was obscene around these parts last week – three times the usual amount of trash, and cardboard and paper in the recycle bins that was almost too heavy to haul to the curb. Bins, plural.
And the electronics. Oh, the electronics.
I’ve been a computer guy for a long time, but I’m also an avid eBay purger – if I’m bored and it still has value, let’s sell! Despite my continued attempts to monetize every unloved gadget before it became worthless, electrojunk remained – three desktop computer corpses, two of which are pictured above, along with a Samtron CRT monitor included with my first computer purchase in, what, 1997? (I quickly upgraded to a 17 inch model from, get this, Hansol. Kingston computer stores in the nineties were replete with displays from manufacturers you’d never heard of.)
Remotes, cameras, disc drives, graphics cards, batteries, and oh, so many wires. All toxic, all unwelcome at the landfill.
For once, Future Shop had my back. Their recycling program welcomes all of the above and more, at least in Ontario and Alberta, and at a price tag of free, too good to pass up. If you were waiting for an electronics disposal day to get rid of your busted computer stuff, don’t – the unfriendly customer ‘service’ person behind the counter at Future Shop is saving their least impressed look for when you walk in with your box of a thousand parts. Visit today! Tell them the guy who won’t pay full price for anything sent you.
stay awhile
I like pubs – dark, wooden places are best – not just for the excellent refreshment that is usually on offer, but because of the stories within. Usually these are only hinted at, maybe becoming a little more clear if you take time to really absorb the surroundings, hang around to pick up some of the lore from the regulars. The local history is more felt than heard, or seen.
But this was a nice little surprise to come across at the Churchill Arms in downtown Charlottetown. I liked that place when we’d dropped in last year for a curry and beer, and finding this ode to a friend at another table this time around helped to seal the deal.
toes and twine
People are doing stuff – I can hear ‘em, driving on highway thirteen, headed to get gas at the Irving station, maybe a newspaper, maybe lunch.
Our routine, however, has been staunchly anti-doing stuff, at least in the morningtime. An important reason for this is the hammock, a new addition to the cabin this year and, frankly, awesome. Perfectly comfortable and well suited to authoring a blog post, then maybe eyes closed for a bit.
We’ve been a little busier in the afternoons. Plenty of nice meals in Charlottetown, light tourism activity, feet in the ocean, some driving around. Went northwest on Tuesday, exploring a part of the Island we’d not visited previously, through impossibly small towns and deserted roads, expecting to find some sort of commerce, but short of a nice little downtown in Alberton, well. Not much going on out that way.
I always wonder about the people living in remote places like these, trying to sneak a glimpse into who they are and what they do as we drive by their houses on country highways, some properties beautifully maintained, others having seen much better days, years and years ago most likely. What is this life like? How does it feel to be hours from convenience, from emergency response, and presumably from other people who know you well?
My wife and I choose to live in Ottawa because of its proximity – to viable job options, to parents and siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews, to medical services our family unfortunately couldn’t carry on without. So while Prince Edward Island is always tempting us to make a leap, it remains a beautiful dream, a vacation destination only.
But it’d be interesting to get to know a life of distance. I’ve heard that challenge and discomfort can promote and prompt a person to great things sometimes. Then again, maybe you’d just spend most of your days riding a lawnmower and obsessing about not forgetting to pick up milk next time you spend the day in town, because forgetting would mean a week with no milk. And that’s no life to live, either.
Maybe another time. Another lifetime.
sing at sunday service
Due to the miracle that is modern technology, I am able to contribute to the mighty A1 Great from about 35,000 feet above the planet. WordPress and Android, a match made in the middle atmosphere.
Yes, I am on a plane. Achieved liftoff from Ottawa about an hour ago to embark on our nearly-annual summer vacation, destination Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, and eventually Walden Cabin.
I’m probably supposed to forego the supposed tether that this internet-enabled device represents, but I plan to tweet my way around the Island nonetheless. As far as I’m concerned the real tether is the worry as to whether Everyone Is Fine, and a connection to the people who are keeping an eye on things on my behalf offers comfort, not concern.
Plus, I get to tell you about my neighbors on board this flight, like the chicks in the row behind me who are holding forth, loudly, about their recent relationship history and, of course, the role of Jesus in it all. Or the two persons in the adjacent row, apparantly travelling separately and unrelated to one another, who BOTH ordered tomato juice with their in-flight snack (six percent of my daily fat intake, for those of you keeping track).
I don’t know which pair I find more repugnant. Religious beliefs are creepy, particularly in public. But tomato juice? That’s fucked up.