Losing Focus? Or...My Focus Rocks!

Alfa Romeo, Bentley, Corvette,.......Jaguar, K-Car, Lotus......Rolls-Royce, Subaru, Triumph.....Zephyr.

You could choose any other car from a bottomless bowl of alphabet auto soup, but none of them could do what my little Ford Focus wagon has done. In the past few months it has hauled about 50 loads of rock. Each load weighs about 700 pounds (the equivalent of two mid-sized Oromocto Mall patrons). It's hard work for my car, but it's proven itself worthy.

Yesterday the engine light came on in my dashboard display. <insert eye roll>This could mean one of two things:

1) the engine is about to have a catastrophic malfunction

2) a little orange light malfunctioned.

I ignored the light, got two loads of rock and then drove to Fredericton and back. And I'm still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Forgive me for seeming trite, but this happened to me once before with another Ford Focus Wagon. Quite a few years ago, while vacationing in the Magdalen Islands, the orange 'you-have-a-problem-with-your-engine' light came on. As it turned out, what really came on was my 'you-have-a-problem-with-your-engine-light' light. There was absolutely nothing wrong with my engine...it was the sensor that malfunctioned. $250 later, the orange light was off and my car was no different. Sheesh...that felt like money down the drain, because it was.

Roll the dice, Ian.

That's how I work now. I'd say that it's 80/20 that there is nothing wrong with my car, so I'm not taking it to a mechanic. My car, if you remember from an earlier blog, is only worth $200, so pumping money into it makes little sense. I've long since got my 200 clams out of it.

BUT....

It is inevitable that my Ford Focus is destined for the junk yard soon so I'm going looking for a new (to me) car today. Whatever I buy will pale in comparison to Ol' Blue, but I accept that. First and foremost I'm shopping for a safe car for Wendy, and a windmobile for me. I'll keep the Focus for a dump truck until it dies. Until then, I steadfastly refuse to lose Focus.

Mootha September 2014

Here's an updated portrait of Mom (aka the Queen Mootha).

Peace And Quiet. I said 'PEACE AND QUIET'!

'There are countless reasons to move to the country, but peace and quiet are near the top'.

I canna hear yoo.

I said 'I live here for the peace and quiet'.

Can yoo speak up, I still canna hear yoo.

PEACE AND QUIET...that's why I live here on this god-damned serene lake!

Fit's he saying? Canna hear a damn thing.

Pass me the haggis cannon. A shot across the bow is in order!

Ay', now yoor tackin'!

Are You Chertin'?

I received an e-mail the other day asking if I was interested in a paddle from Motts wharf across the lake in search of the semi-elusive chert source.

Chert? Chert is a type of hard, sharp rock that the First Nations people used to make weapons and tools. The chert along the shores of the Washademoak ranged in colour from off-white to black, but it was the reddish chert that was so attractive to my eye. It fractures easily and is as sharp as a knife.

My first thought when approached about this little paddle was 'what if it's windy'. As it turned out, the lake was as flat as a tire on a prairie nail highway so I didn't need to worry about missing a windsurfing day (my worst fear). I met up with six other hardy paddlers and across the lake we paddled.

It was easy to find the chert source because I've been there before. I knew exactly where to find it and it was there in abundance. We found lots of chert along the shore, in the water, and at the bottom of the cliffs.

Most of the paddlers in our group had never seen the chert source before and they were quite excited about 'the find'. We found evidence that others had been here before us, very recently (beer bottles and fractured chert). We're not the only ones who knew of this historical secret.

After our time rock-hounding on the shoreline, we paddled into Craft's Cove to have a look around. We found a flock of geese and a few golden-eye ducks. It was a gloriously sunny, late September morning. Autumn mornings like this are fleeting, and I found that everyone was vocally appreciative of our moment together in the sun and warmth.

We paddled back across the placid lake and ended our harmoniously rocky relationship.

90 + 90 = Vineyard Tour

Yesterday I was visited by Gup (aka Dad) and his/our friend Jim Macmillan. I think they're both the same age, just 90, but age seems irrelevant because they're both adventuresome and curious. They came down to have a lunch visit with me. I made my soon-to-be-World-Famous salmon chowder with sweet potato and dill. They were an appreciative audience.

After lunch and some enlightening conversation we drove down the road to visit Motts Landing Vineyard. We were greeted by David and Sonia, cheerful and welcoming as always. Jim very kindly bought me a bottle of Motts Landing Muscat wine, and Dad bought two bottles of wine (presumably one for him and one for Jim....for the tedious drive back to Fredericton!). When you're 90 you write your own rules!!

When we finished our visit to the wine store we took a drive around the vineyard. The grapes were hanging, well, like grapes. Looks like a bumper crop this year. Bumper?

Bumper: the word bumper can be used to mean something unusual large. A bumper crop would be an unusually bountiful crop. A bumper bumper would be an over-sized automobile bumper. Likewise a bumper dumper would be a gigantic ass (see Oromocto Mall regulars). I digress....because I like to digress.                                                                  Dad and Jim eagerly inspected a row of vines and were most impressed. Dad even 'stole' a grape and popped it in his mouth. "Sweet", he announced. I'm not sure if Jim was so blatantly lawless. Likely (ha ha).

All three of us were astounded by the work that has gone into making the vineyard. I believe the soil was first turned for the vineyard around 2002 and it is just in the last year or two that the vineyard has been producing crops sufficient enough to make large quantities of red and white wine. The wine is very impressive, especially given that there was some doubt, initially, whether quality wines could be produced in New Brunswick. Sales have been growing every year exponentially. It's nice to witness the birth and maturity of an agriculture success story right here in Cambridge-Narrows.

Success? Yes! Recently David and Sonia's Sabrevois red wine was ranked as the second best wine in the Atlantic Provinces or something like that. It deserved the honour because it can rub shoulders with anything produced in North America. Congratulations to Motts Landing Vineyard.Well done, I say.

And what a beautiful day to be there: sunny, warm, sparkling. A great day all around.

Missing Mootha? Here She Is!

There's no doubt that Mootha plays a big part in our hearts and in our minds. For those of you who are away (Wendy, Julian) and are missing Mootha, I offer you this little video filmed yesterday.

Distant Cousins?

CBC's Radio 2  has a feature they call 'distant cousins'. What they do is play two clips from two different songs (different artists/bands) that sound similar. They then ask (rhetorically) the listening audience if they see the similarities. Who knows if one artist was influenced by another, or if it was a blatant rip-off, or if there is no connection at all. There are, after all, only so many chords to be played, and certain chord sequences are bound to resurface all across the musical spectrum.

Distant cousins: there are many in a variety of fields. This would be true for the visual arts too. Picasso and Georges Braque 'invented' the painting style known as Cubism. Others followed. Though no two painting were identical, there were likely some cousins. If nothing else, other painters were influenced by Picasso and Braque's new style. There are a lot of distant cousins in abstract art as well.

Distant cousins: Ian and Graeme. This is a bit of a joke because I have a cousin in England who is nothing like me, but given that the Atlantic Ocean separates us, I'm going to refer to us as distant cousins.

Distant cousins: Coke and Pepsi? Pepsi was likely a blatant attempt to mimic Coke, though I've done no research to prove this. I don't drink either of them anymore because, over time, I've learned that they're distant cousins of obesity, tooth decay, and general malaise. I threw 'general malaise' in there just because I liked the sound of it.

Distant cousins: can you think of any?

Here's my last stab at a distant cousin pairing (it's a visual)....

They both provide shelter and protection to the inhabitants, and they're both dreadfully slow. I'd say they're distant cousins. I'm always amused b the names given to motor-homes by their makers. Names like Ambassador, Bullet, Cheetah, Desert Fox, Eagle, Flying Cloud, and Gazelle. None of them seem particularly honest. If I ever start my own RV manufacturing business, I'm gone to name my models: Snail, Turtle, and Hermit Crab. Finally, truth in advertising.

Distant cousins: truth and advertising.