Forgot to mention this one. Andrew, Dan, and I went to the KW Ribfest and Craft Beer Show back on July 21st. Formerly Kitchener had Blues, Brews & BBQs in the summer, but I think they decided to split those festivities, and July now has ribs and beers, and August has the Blues Festival. (Probably because Waterloo has the Jazz Festival in July.)
Anyway, there were 6 or 7 local breweries represented, and you bought your “souvenir glass” for $5, and then $1 beer tokens. The glass was the size of about half a beer. Then there were about half a dozen meat vendors (and ones for roasted corn, lemonade, ice cream, etc.)
This is a full rack of ribs:
We split three of these from three different vendors. The first rack was actually the best. I believe that vendor was Boss Hog’s. Anyway, by the end of three racks, several beers (I think my favourite discovery was the Nickel Brook Green Apple Pilsner), and some homemade ice cream — all eaten whilst sitting in the sun — it was coma time.
I went home and slept for a couple of hours, then got up, got cleaned up… and met my family at The Keg for Patience’s belated birthday dinner. Honestly, the Last Place On Earth that I wanted to go. However, I drank water, ate a garden salad and a plain baked potato, and generally looked like the lamest sort of dieter. I pondered attempting meat, just smelling it at other tables, but knew it would be a mistake. Boo!
This morning Sherry and I were out shopping for Solutions. You see, all the stuff she needs for the new house comes as “solutions”: storage solutions, lighting solutions — you get the idea. And when we got to the checkout at Rona, we saw these:
Yes, ladies and gents, the manliest bandages ever made. Though we were talking with the cashier, and agreed that we all know men who just cover wounds with actual duct tape. Riiiiight. Anyway, Sherry picked some up for her Dad, cuz they’re sooooo him. I just took a picture, which I’ll have to send to my Mom. An old friend of my parents’ used to be famous for fixing everything with duct tape, particularly his old work jeans.
And finally, I came across rubber ducks at Zellers that I didn’t already have. Sherry offered to buy them for me, so what the hell. Thing is, I thought that three-pack would put me over the 100 ducks mark, but when I added them to the shelves I did a count, and I have 103. Oops.
And no, owning more than 100 rubber ducks does not mean I have a problem. Even if Anatole is so ashamed that he refuses to make eye contact. (Doesn’t actually look like that many, does it?)