Long August Long Weekend Report.

So I left Toronto on Friday at 12:00, and tried to navigate the suburban wastelands. Who knew that a street could have more than one 300-block? I ventured out on the proverbial wild goose chase to track down rope, if you could imagine. It is next to impossible to find 12mm diametre rope made of natural fiber as my two day epic search will confirm. This is undoubtedly my most frustrating experience in many years and will be the subject of another blog; that is if I can mentally handle recounting it.

So I ended up finding what I needed in Ajax, and drove to Perth arriving at 4:21. I had to go straight into town so that I could have some blood taken at the hospital. Don't worry, there is nothing wrong with me, just some routine checks, and part of a pre-allergy test work up.

I had gone in to see my doctor in mid-July and he wanted me to have some blood work done. This required fasting 12-14 hours. No problem. I stopped eating at 10:00 the night before and it was after 4:00 I was fine.

Me: I need to have some blood taken. Dr. M. gave me this form.
Nurse: You need to fast.
Me: I have been fasting. I haven't eaten since--
Nurse: --When did you eat last?
Me: Yesterday at 10:00.
Nurse: That's more than 14 hours.

I couldn't believe it. She wouldn't take my blood because I had fasted for more that the 12-14 hours. She sent me home with extreme prejudice. Now who would think that you have to fast for 12 hours and one minute, but can't fast for 14 hours and one minute? So I went to the farm, my plans to get this little job finished nicely quashed.

When I got there, my Mom getting ready to head off to her 45th High School Reunion. She looked very nice. At this point my father declares, "Let's go get that calf."

In early May my parents had around 65 cows. When you get that many cows in a herd they really have a mind of their own and when they want to break through fences, mob rules. During one of their destructive visits to the neighbour's corn field, our herd managed to pick up one of the neighbour's calves by mistake. The calf has been with our herd ever since. With my Mom in her fanciest clothes, the three of us headed out armed with a lasso and a halter to wrastle us up some cows (aka: l'il doggies).

The second we stepped into the pen, the cows knew that there was going to be trouble. They ran around in circles and we roped up our calf tied him to a post just as the fence smashed like matchsticks under the will and weight of one of our larger cows. The cows ran through their newly created gate and proceeded to head down the property at the dead run, smashing fences all the while. Insert long list of curse words here.

With the pen now emptied expect for our calf we took him over to his home next door. I had two tasks this weekend: one, help Mom and Dad rope the cow and give it back to Mr. R.; and two, make sure that the cows had lots of food and water. Since the calf had been returned and the cows were now down the property chomping all the fresh grass they can eat and chugging back two thirst quenching rivers, my jobs were done.

It is clinically impossible to herd cattle when they are not calm, and having just made 3 inch thick boards into kindling, we had to leave the cows alone until they cooled off. At this plans changed.

My job was now to drive to the cottage in Bala so that I could pick up a load of flagstone to drive to Perth. There was no rush for this job and I was free to spend the weekend at the cottage. I drove up and spent the weekend with friends at their cottage on Georgian Bay. It was a nice weekend away.

On Monday I returned to the cottage and met my parents who had driven up the previous afternoon. I loaded the truck with stone and drove home. 4 hours later I arrived. I unloaded the stone with no incident. My back is a little stiff, but other than that it was surprisingly uneventful.

I decided that I would begin my fast again that evening. I ate a big dinner and went out to pcik up the last few bales of hay. I stacked them and covered them, thereby completing the first cut of hay for the 2005 season. That pleases me.

I woke up early on Tuesday and drove into town to have my blood taken. This time successfully. Things were going my way until I decided to take Highway 7 from Perth to Highway 37 to Tweed and Belleville.

About 30 km east of Kaladar I got stuck behind a maroon minivan circa 1991. I never once saw it break 75km per hour. I wasn't in a rush, things were going well and I really didn't want to risk a ticket. I sat behind him for about 60 kilometres.

During those 60kms not a single car passed me or the maroon minivan, but a queue of about 15 cars tailed behind. The person behind me must have been late or in a hurry because he did not remove his front bumper from my rear bumper the entire time.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and zipped out into the passing lane around maroon minivan right into the open arms of Constable Knox of the Ontario Provincial Police. Insert long list of curse words here.

I got a $150 ticket. 112 kms in an 80 zone. Can you believe that? 112! As I fumed on the rest of the journey, I noticed that Option 2 was "Enter a plea of guilty and provide an excuse." All I had to do was go to the courthouse in Belleville between 9 and 12 on weekdays. It was 11:00 so I figured that I might be able to get it knocked down. I admit that I was speeding, but the circumstances, I feel, should not warrant $150.

I arrived at the couthouse after only getting slightly lost, only to have the clerk inform me that the Justice of the Peace was not available today and that I should come back within 45 days. Insert long list of curse words here (this time under breath). I paid my bill and left. I wasn't happy.

I arrived in Toronto without incident. I did happen to notice hundreds of cars driving far more than 112 in an 80 zone, but that's petty, I suppose. I did the only thing that I know to ease the anger of a speeding ticket: cleaned (baking also works).

I got my apartment all organized. All my unneeded boxes are stacked up in the closets. I vacuumed and scrubbed and did manage to get everything organized. From the clutter of half opened boxes, I've managed a real minimalist feel. It pleases me to have everything set up. A cluttered home is a cluttered mind, and I'm finally thinking clearly again.

So I decided to treat myself to dinner out to celebrate the clean apartment and to wash away the festering remnants of the speeding ticket. Pad thai and deep fried bananas. It was worth it and I felt a lot better. I didn't get a parking ticket either. Things are looking up!

So a fun weekend after all. It had it's ups and downs, but it certainly wasn't boring. My life seems to be all about flexibility. I guess that's why I'm a teacher.