Not Even For One Day

I avoided Bluesky. I kept the radio off. I didn't even visit YouTube because the algorithm knows I'm a news junkie and suggests videos from CBC and other news outlets.

Because our clocks had sprung forward, overnight, I slept in later than my body was used to. But DW was up early and I heard the garage door open as she was heading out to the gym. I lay in bed for nearly another hour before I headed downstairs.

I was emptying the dishwasher as she came back home. "I can't believe that Trump..."

"NOOOO!" I screamed, cutting her off. "We're not supposed to say his name. We agreed we wouldn't talk about him."

Nine fourty-three. We only made it to 9:43 in the morning.

"It’s okay," said DW. "You still haven't said his name."

"That's not the point," I said. "The goal was to get through the day without hearing or reading his stupid name, without seeing his ugly face. This day is ruined."

"Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"There are days when I don't hear anything about Trudeau. When Biden was in office, there were some days when he wouldn't be mentioned. There are so many world leaders that I know nothing about. Yet, the Orange Felon is everywhere. You can't escape mention of him.

"Today was about switching off the news, about staying away from social media. I just wanted one day... one day... from having that asshole in our lives."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

We managed to get through the rest of the morning. I barely touched my phone. We did some chores around the house. We started on our tax returns. We went to our neighbour's house, where we're looking after their cat while they're on vacation.

We ran some errands but played music from my phone, keeping the radio off.

My parents invited us over, after dinner, for cheesecake and a movie. When we arrived, they were watching Mark Carney's speech after he won the Liberal leadership race. He's our new prime minister.

And, of course, he mentioned the Orange Felon. And a commercial came on, and there was that dick, with a random sound bite.

Of course, it was an attack ad from Pierre Poilievre. Canada's asshole.

I think that short of locking yourself in a room without a TV, radio, or computer, going a full day without hearing, seeing, or reading about the Orange Felon is an impossible feat.

But I'm determined. I'll try again next weekend, though it may be harder: we're meeting in Toronto with some American friends. Maybe, because they hate him too, we can agree to at least not say his name.

Wish us luck.

Flashback Friday: Posers

In 2011, social media was still pretty new to me. Sure, I had been running a blog since 2008 (not this blog, which I started in 2011) but I really didn't get into Twitter until early in that year.

In 2011, Twitter was in its glory days.

But once I started on social media—Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and Untappd—I was hooked. I seemed to spend all my free time checking out what I had missed since the last time I put my phone to my face.

Kid 1, who was as sharp as a tack (and still is), noticed that I was missing life around me while I was looking for what was going on in the social-media universe. And she pointed out that I was addicted to my phone while we were on vacation, in Cape Cod, in 2011.

For the most part, I was taking shots of our vacation, but instead of taking the snap and moving on, I had to edit it right away and post it on Twitter, or Instagram, or Facebook. And for her, it was getting to be too much.

So she had an idea for a picture I could take: DW would be looking up at something interesting, while I would be on my phone and Kid 1 was looking at the camera that was capturing this scene, all while pointing out that I was on my phone and pouting about it.

Kid 2 took the shot.

I still use my phone a lot but not nearly to the extent that I was in 2011. For one, I'm no longer on Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook. And though I'm on Bluesky, I don't post nearly as often as I did on Twitter.

Also, I haven't used Untappd as a social-media app in years, as I follow no one and don't let anyone view me (it's strictly a way for me to keep track of the various brews I've consumed).

I even have a tracker on my phone to let me know when I'm on the screen too often in a day.

We'll be going on a family vacation in about two months. I'm confident that we won't have to recreate this pose again.

Happy Friday!

I'm Done

Within days, I just wasn't feeling it.

I love Wales. Though I have only been there once, and that was more than 30 years ago, it has left an impression on me that hasn't faded. The beauty of the landscape and the kindness of the people will stay with me forever.

When I completed the Te Araroa trek of The Conqueror Virtual Challenge, I told myself that I didn't feel inclined to participate in another of these virtual journeys: not, unless, I discovered one that would be so enticing that I couldn't refuse it.

Nearly a year later, one challenge caught my attention and made me think of my short but memorable time in Wales: the Wales Coast Path. The 1,300-kilometre trail would take me past Conwy, Beaumaris, Caernarfon, Harlech, Cardiff, and more, before ending in Chepstow—all places that DW and I visited all those years ago.

I started the trek at the beginning of August, last year, and put some actual kilometres on my bike, in my kayak, and on foot while I virtually covered the norther coast of Wales. I was making good progress, confident that I'd be able to complete the challenge in 10 weeks.

But on the Isle of Anglesey, just past Beaumaris, I lost interest.

Not of Wales. The country of my ancestors still holds a piece of my heart and I hope to someday return. But the virtual challenge had lost its appeal.

I would go for days without logging my progress. And disagreeable weather kept me off my bike more times than I would have liked.

As the 10-week timeframe approached, I moved out the time period to 14 weeks. Then, 16. Then, 20. Then, 26. Less than halfway into the challenge, I was logging only my daily steps toward my goal.

I still enjoyed seeing the Welsh countryside when I logged a distance and then saw, through Google street view in the app, where I was in the countryside. But I knew that as soon as I reached the finish line, in Chepstow, I was done with the virtual challenges.

Chepstow Castle (taken when I was there, in 1991).

I reached the finish line, outside Chepstow Castle, on March 3, 210 days after starting the challenge. It took me 30 weeks to complete it.

I won't be getting a medal for this one. When I had signed up, I learned that the company that creates the app had changed their model, and that you have to pay extra to get a medal at the end of the challenge.

No thanks.

As soon as I reached the finish line, I deleted the app from my phone. I'm done.

It doesn't mean I'm going to stop being active (though, I haven't been as active as I usually am, if I'm being honest). I do need to exercise and get in shape for our upcoming vacation, in May, when I'll be performing an actual challenge, with lots of hiking and climbing.

I won't get a medal for that challenge, either, but the rewards will be far greater.

This is 60

Cupcakes and Karaoke

I couldn't help but have a flashback.

I wrote about this before, when I had a birthday party and decided to pick up a microphone and sing while friends danced around me. But that party was 52 years ago.

A couple of days ago, I celebrated turning 60. It wasn't my actual birthday: that's this coming Wednesday. Like in 1973, because my birthday is on a weekday, we held the celebration the weekend before.

DW asked me what I wanted to do to mark the end of my sixth decade and I said that I wanted to be surrounded by family and friends, to be with the people who mattered so much to me. We talked about reserving space at a favourite brewery, as it would have the space to accommodate everyone, and I liked that idea.

Secretly, she had already contacted Conspiracy Theory Brewery, as I had been frequenting the place, as of late, but when she told me, I was reluctant. While I liked going to Conspiracy Theory for karaoke, it wasn't a favourite brewery, nor even in my top 10 for Ottawa. Sure, they had the space but it wasn't quite the spot I had in mind.

Luckily, she hadn't made any solid plans and had only had a brief conversation with Paul Card, the owner. As it turned out, Conspiracy Theory, itself, wouldn't be around for my birthday celebration, anyway.

We did look at actual breweries that I love, and one didn't seem to have any event planned for March 1, so we reached out. DW had me compose the e-mail message, since they knew me and had once done something really nice for my birthday, a couple of years ago.

Unfortunately, when Melissa responded to me, she told me that they did, in fact, have a live show scheduled for March 1, and that it hadn't yet been added to their Web site. She said that the band was interactive with its audience and was a lot of fun, but I didn't really want to have a live band at my party, especially since I didn't know them, and so I thanked her but said I'd look elsewhere.

(I ordered some beer from them the next day.)

I had only been to Hummingbird Hall once, before we started discussing my party, and I already liked it. When we considered it as a party venue, I was practically sold.

Again, DW had me reach out to Dan, the manager of Hummingbird Hall, since we had already met, though only once, and he'd only remember me if he recognized Brown Knowser in my e-mail address and associate it with the person known as Brown Knowser at the previous karaoke night.

While I didn't want a live band at my party, I thought it might be fun to have karaoke. Lots of my friends like to sing and have done karaoke before. I'd be able to mingle with my friends between getting up on stage to sing, myself.

I put in the request, including lining up a KJ, and waited. Dan got back to me fairly quickly, gave me a quote for renting the room, with him running the bar, and for the KJ and the sound person.

And that was it. We were booked.

There were cupcakes. There were nibblies. There was singing. There was dancing. There was mingling and catching up with friends. Some family and friends came all the way from Toronto to help me celebrate. Kid 2 and my younger sister, who live in Toronto, made the trip to be here.

I'm so lucky. I was surrounded by love.

Photo credit: Marc Dufour

Photo credit: Marc Dufour

This was the first birthday party I had since my 50th, where we did gather for a live show, featuring my music idol, Midge Ure. It'll likely be the last one until my 70th birthday, should I make it that far.

But this party will go down as one of the best, far exceeding my eighth party (where some of my friends from 1973 were back to celebrate again).

This time, the mic was plugged in.

Photo credit: Mom