Hit The North!

This merits a post.

I spent a wonderful weekend canoeing with some friends in Whiteshell Provincial Park. It was a welcome change from what had seemed like a hectic week prior. By the time Friday rolled around I was almost unable to muster the mental energy to pack up, prepare food, rent a canoe, and decide where we would go. But go we did, and it was good.


Here Vanessa and Mark coast through one of the man-made tunnels blasted through the rock that connect Caddy Lake and South Cross Lake. Not only do the tunnels offer a reprieve from the heat, but they also provide great acoustics should you feel the need to break into song.

Canoeing is great and I have nothing against it. What I was most looking forward to about the weekend, however, was the chance to indulge in my favorite-ever pastime of 'lifejacket-swimming.' I say indulge for two reasons: First and foremost because when wearing a lifejacket there is really no swimming involved...only floating. Secondly, I often take the liberty of drinking a beer while 'lifejacket-swimming' and so 'indulge' seemed like the only appropriate term. [As a side note, drinking a beer while 'lifejacket-swimming' is most easily accomplished if you wear your lifejacket like a diaper. This lifts the body further out of the water for ease of consumption.]

The unexpected surprise of the weekend was the creation of a new game - canoe frisbee. The creation of new games is my second favorite pasttime of all-time after lifejacket-swimming. When we were younger, my cousin and I invented numerous games. Most lasted only one evening, though the best of them were revived again and again. 'Tape-ball Baseball' was a short-lived game involving hitting a ball of tape - thrown like a baseball - with a small pillow. This game was significantly improved later on and became 'Ping-Pong Baseball.' 'Ping-Pong Baseball' was significantly harder due to the fact that a ping-pong ball, when thrown like a baseball, moves unpredictably through the air. Thus, there were many more strikeouts and home-runs (hitting the ball past the couch) were less frequent. So anyway, canoe frisbee is a new sport that combines all the fun of tossing a disc with the precariousness of standing up in a canoe, and it is good times.

A weekend well spent.

Chicago at Night

Well, the ink was barely dry on that last post when my parents farm got hit with a pretty nasty hail storm which made me think that I may have to be more careful what I say in this blog. That was a month ago already, and I think that many of the crops came back better than they were expected to, so its okay. It seems like there would be a lesson in there somewhere but I can't think of what it could possibly be.

I just got back from a great 5-day excursion to Chicago where we took in the Pitchfork Music Festival and about 80 000 UV rays. I could say a lot about the trip but I realize that my last few posts have been a bit overwrought. Everyone likes pictures better so I've scrounged up a few. I didn't bring a camera, but the internet has made taking my own pictures unnecessary.


DESTROYER
Stage Banter Quote: "This next song is about....*sigh*"


ART BRUT
Stage Banter Quote: "While I don't agree with your misogynistic language Jay-Z, I understand what you are trying to say."


JENS LEKMAN
Stage Banter Quote: "There is such a thing as vegetarian German food?"

I would be remiss if I didn't also mention that every day that we were in Chicago it was 36 degrees celsius. This made life difficult at times and nearly sent me into a dehydrated, hazy humidity-induced rage. After that passed I was able to enjoy walking around downtown, an imposing mix of modern glass skyscrapers and monolithic turn-of-the-century brick and stone structures between which are dark alleys with black iron fire escapes zig-zagging up the thirty floors to the top. If you stare into one of these alleys for long enough you can almost hear some poor soul come running and turn the corner only to find it a dead end, then turn to face a shadowy figure in a fedora and trenchcoat who demands payment of certain debts as he steps out of a black car. The man begs for a second chance but realizes that this time there isn't one to be had as he sinks slowly to the bottom of the river just below the docks. I'm pretty sure that's what I heard...in retrospect it might have been something else.

The problem with being in a city as historic and grand as Chicago is that one inevitably begins wanting a piece of it for oneself. You will find yourself wondering what it would be like to own a loft on the 12th floor of an old 1891 brownstone, or imagining the possibilities that would be afforded if one of the yachts in the harbor had keys that were in your pocket. You will start to think about how much work and how many lives were consumed in order to create something so sprawling, so tall and yet so detailed. Your neck will get tired from looking up so you'll stare at your feet, see some ants working frantically to construct a mound of soil and realize we aren't very different from them. The brick, iron, and concrete will make you uncomfortable eventually and you will wade into the lake to cool off. You'll walk back out of the lake, start to get a rash, look at the silhouetted skyline and realize such grandiosity has its price.