Home again, home again.

Jiggity jig.  Isn’t that the way that goes? 

By the way, I just noticed that this is blog post number 900. 

Seems like only yesterday that I was a naive young slip of a thing.  Oh wait, that’s not quite right. 

Maybe just the naive part?

Anyway, it seems like not that long ago that we started out with the Big Bang plus one.  Remember the “CERN” Collider thingy?  It was only a coincidence really,  that I started the blog one day AFTER they fired it up.  I mean, no point wasting the effort if we were going to end up in a big black hole or something.  Right?

The weekend was uneventful.  Both the drive up and back were blissful.  I should speak to that, however.  We have this thing called the 407 ETR.  The “ETR” stands for “Express Toll Route”.

I have mixed feelings about the 407,  since it’s just about the most expensive toll route known to man.  I’m surprised it’s not in The Guinness Book of Records.  Anyway,  it’s one of those rare indulgences that we have been known to partake of,  and I’ll briefly tell you why.

On the way back on Sunday (no, we didn’t stay the whole weekend), at one point in the journey where the 407 crosses over the west bound 401 to London, I noticed a car coming up on my left with Michigan plates.  Sure enough,  he was headed for the 401.  What then got my attention though,  as I looked to my left as he went by,  was the parking lot way over there...   Oh wait, that’s the 401!  Oh dear.  I think Michigan Dude is in for a bit of a surprise.  And as we crossed over,  I could see that it was backed up in both directions!  Are you kidding me?  This was the Sunday.  Not even the last day of the weekend.   Meanwhile,  we were blissfully tooling along with plenty of space between us and the other vehicles.

Of course,  I do realise we’ll be getting a bill from the ETR people for some ridiculous amount,  but I guess it’s like buying a case of beer.  If you want it bad enough…

The place is on Sturgeon Lake in the Kawarthas.  And you’ll notice that the water there is just a bit choppy?  Well,  it was pretty windy all weekend.  There was no boating,  and a couple brave souls went in the water at one point.  Not me.  No sir.  I discovered when we lived in Puerto Rico just what temperature the water needs to be at for me to jump right in.  With the exception of some hot springs some place in B.C.,  we ain’t got that here.  Period. 

I mean,  I took along some swimming trunks,  in case there was some freakish hot spell or something,  but that never happened. 

Doesn’t matter,  we ate really well.  Beef tenderloin.  Scallops wrapped in bacon.  I think there might have been salad.  Don’t remember.

On Saturday night, since there was an overlap of visitors,  there were 11 of us sleeping there, which was certainly not a big deal since there was plenty of room.  The only issue with that many people there at one time though was, where to put all the food?  Seems we all brought enough for a small army,  so I don’t think they’ll need to go shopping for at least a day or two.  It’s a bad habit, that bringing too much food thing.  It’s a hard one to give up though.

I haven’t weighed myself,  but I may have put on a couple extra “beer pounds”.  It’s a possibility.

Anyhoodle,  I made a call this morning to a helper for our Sunday window install.  He’s a big lad,  and has a friend who can easily bench press three hundred.  So I think they’ll do.  That window is heavy,  but the fellow whom I called has a job whereby he works with batteries day in and day out.  You know,  the fork lift kind?  The ones I can barely lift one end of?  There are tales of him carrying washing machines up flights of stairs.  Or like, when you don’t need to rent an engine hoist to lift a V-8 engine block up on the bench? 

My job will be to be ready.  I put on the final coat of finish this morning, and the next task will be to make sure we don’t have any shrubbery in the way.  I’ll be cutting back the roses over the next day or so.  It kinda sucks,  but that’s the way she goes.

 

OK, gotta whip up some grub.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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