Inversely Proportional???

Today's math lesson: Inverse Proportion.

Take for example the beautiful day we have just enjoyed today. In most of south-western Ontario it was very hot (close to the hottest day this year, actually) and humid and sunny and perfect (insert editorial license here). As the number of days that we can enjoy this kind of weather slip through our fingers (in fact, we really don't know if this may have been the last such day for 2013) I, for one, become acutely aware and appreciative of days like this. And thus, today's lesson in math.

Love of Hot Weather = 1/Hours of Sunlight. We are in love with the heat in inverse proportion to the number of hours of sunlight we enjoy in a day (simply put, fewer hours of sunlight = more love of heat). Think of how you feel about a hot, humid day in spring or fall as compared to how you feel about the same conditions in the middle of July. We love it now. We love it in the spring. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the number of hours of sunlight. What else could it be?

Other examples of the principle of inverse proportion?

Love of Christmas shopping = 1/Days until Christmas

Patience for Puppy Training = 1/Cost of the Item Being Chewed/Peed On/Pooped On

Ability to Fall Asleep = 1/Time Until Your Alarm Goes Off

Grade 10 Math Teacher Mr. Hay would be proud of me.

Still Summer

It is almost the end... As the unofficial end of summer 2013 lurks around the corner (and by unofficial end, I am choosing our Canadian Labour Day Weekend as the notable mark) I am, like everyone I encounter, lapping up every moment that these days are providing me. With the sun shining and the lake breezes gently blowing I am going about my day to day activities drinking in the perfection while it lasts.

Yesterday, I walked the main street of my home town which was closed down for a classic car show. Families joined in the relaxed meandering, oohing and aaahing over the old, new, fancy, expensive array of cars. As I walked the path of the show, I was a conspicuous observer of conversations; Moms and Dads with their children, couples dream shopping. And more than a couple of times I laughed out loud at Dads as they encouraged excitement from their sons over the complexities of engine construction and varying horse power. Boys will be boys.

But universal in the crowd was the genuine appreciation of the beauty of the day. Everyone, I think, feels the same way right now... Summer is a fleeting thing and we are almost done with it for another year. Summers in south-western Ontario are lovely and temperate, sometimes hotter than what's tolerable by most but this year has not been like that. It's been lovely. What we seem to forget is that summer doesn't officially end until September 21st. There are still beautiful days ahead of us, for sure. I remind myself of this to hopefully avoid the over-eager welcoming I habitually provide to the seasons as they move from one to another. I am about to develop my seasonal twitch. As predictable as autumn following summer.

I blame this affliction on the back to school ritual. Every year growing up, I have happy memories of my Dad loading our small, dysfunctional family (come on, we're all dysfunctional in one way or another) into our car to travel the hour or so to the big city of Toronto and visit Yorkdale Mall for our back to school shopping. Now, I'm not sure if we actually did this every year, but the rose-coloured glasses that I view these trips with allow me to declare with great creative license and thereby certainty that it was an annual ritual. Every year my sister and I would come back home with a new outfit with which to proudly begin a new school year. And of course, since I now had a new back to school outfit, I of course was determined to wear it on the first day of school and many times after. Naturally though, this being late August shopping, the outfits were always cool weather materials and the weather was rarely compliant. The result? Me sweating through the first month of school with determined resolution to wear my new fall clothes.

I kept this odd tradition for years and even to this day have to talk myself out of the urge to wear fall clothes too early... the same in the spring... Equally awkward. Over the years, I've taken my boys to fall fairs in delightful fall outfits while the weather sweltered and most everyone was enjoying the late summer heat while I was feeling conflicted over the smartness of my outfit and how Mother Nature had betrayed the calendar to provide a summer day.

So I sit here on a summer Sunday, slowing turning my mind to the week ahead... Determined to not look into my sweater drawer for at least another three weeks. For sure. At the earliest. No matter what.

Unless it cools down some. I can't halp that.

The Same and Different

As my vacation continues (now five days down and five to go) today I happily spent the day heading back to my favourite summer beach, Port Dover, Ontario. I've been going to this beach for years now, from back when I used to pack up my three boys and their sun screen, juice boxes, snacks, frisbees, water bottles, ice packs, hats, flip flops, bug spray, books, blankets, towels, umbrella, lawn chairs and inevitably STILL forgot something and went out for our pilgrimage to the sunny shores.

I am happy at the beach, how can you not be? Today was a perfect day; not too hot, light breeze and because it was a weekday, the beach was very lightly populated. I stopped first for my favourite summer lunch, an Arbor Dog hot dog, fries and Golden Glow. I've written about this delectible treat before but suffice to say, it's worth the drive. It is NOT just a hot dog. I savoured every bite and while I did was amazed by the family who ate at the picnic table behind me.

It was a mom and her two children (at least I assume they were both hers, that may or may not be true). They too were enjoying their dogs and fries but what amazed me was the conversation... The two children were talking about collecting Pokemon cards. Way back in the day, my boys were avid Pokemon collectors. They saved every cent they could, did additional chores and regularly scoured the sofa and chairs for any available spare change so they could make the short trek to our neighbourhood convenience store and buy their latest fix. This may not seem a particulary amazing thing to surrepticiously witness but keep in mind my eldest son is approaching 30 years old. These are not particularly recent family transactions. And this got me to wondering...

Over the years families have come and gone from that beach and like mine, have grown up and changed only to be replaced by other families who by all intents and purposes fill the same mold. I lay on the beach, I closed my eyes and just listened... There was nothing I could hear that would differentiate if I were there in 2013 or 1993. I could hear no iPODs, iPADs, boomboxes, radios, walkmen or any other device belying the date. Only the sound of children playing, parents beckoning their children to "come back a bit closer to shore" and couples looking for the perfect spot to plant for the afternoon. I could just as easily have been at the beach with my boys back when they were little and I was more concerned about their sunscreen than my own.

Even when I opened my eyes, there was little to give away the date other than perhaps an increased frequency of tattooed bodies and purple hair. But it's when you pay attention, you feel the difference. My boys are grown and on their own. The children I hear are not mine. But there is surprising comfort to be found in the consistency of knowing I am walking the same path as I once did with my boys when they were young enough to still want to hold my hand, and that it is the same path that so many other boys walked with their moms before and will for years to come.

Halfway Checkpoint

So here I sit, mid-way through summer 2013. It is the tail-end of our Civic Long Weekend (for my readers outside of Canada, I have to tell you there are few things we Canadians love more than a long weekend) and I am contemplating what has transpired so far in this fast-moving summer.

I read a study which said essentially that weekends, vacations, summers feel longer if you fill them with new experiences. The study found that the mind needs unique impressions to create a distinct memory so if you go to the same places with the same people you are likely to blend all of those individual memories into one imprint in your recollection. Interesting theory, I thought. And a challenge.

I adore my girlfriends and I love doing the things we have always done together but now I'm thinking what new adventures can we find? It's an easier task with my boys because they are all enjoying new experiences as they continue their own journeys so as I follow along, it's natural to capture new memories with each of them. And of course, as I spend my time alone I am asking myself what can I do that remains undone? Small things, big things. Doesn't really matter.

So far this summer I've picnic-ed at new beaches, walked on new trails, danced in new venues; I've had drinks in a hot tub while rain poured down and rummaged through new antique markets searching for the perfect find. Do I have a companion for the big road trip ahead? Remember? Six months ago I cavalierly announced that finding a "date" for this adventure I was planning would be "no big deal"... Hubris, thy name is Sally... No. No I don't. But that's ok too. I've been on many an adventure solo and there is a special challenge found there. I'm ok with that.

We're half way there... Don't blink; the rest is going to fly by.

Summer Love

If you haven’t already guessed by my sudden reappearance, I am on vacation. Another 10 consecutive blissful days without the consistent presence of work pressure and worry inconspicuously furrowing my brow.

I, like most people I know, have certain preparations I make to ensure an enjoyable vacation. I am not travelling far afield choosing instead to stay close to home, recharging by seeing my world through my relaxed vacation eyes. My fridge is stocked with fresh food ready to whip up a snack for one, my beer fridge is equally well-stocked. I have a complete listing of local events and festivals but most importantly, I have my book for the week.

I have found a new love, new only to me. I am very embarrassed to say that prior to the release of the remake of The Great Gatsby this spring, I had never read anything by F. Scott Fitzgerald. But before the release of the movie I thought I should read the book (because as we all know, the book is always better). And now I have fallen deeply, irrevocably in love.

I don’t know what the writing process was like for Francis Scott Key but I’m pretty sure he must have found great comfort and inspiration and happiness in it. How could he produce such beauty if not purely happy while doing it?

I share few things in common with my new love other than we do both seem to like to overindulge in beverages upon occasion (ok, for him I realize that is a tragic understatement) and that he had a love of France, Paris and the French Riviera in particular, equal to mine (but of course with the means to partake regularly which I am, sadly lacking).

This week, rather than cruising the Riviera I will be found at road side farm stands and beaches, restaurant patios and drive-in movies. But no matter where I am, my new love will be with me just in case I need some impromptu inspiration.

“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as all things grow fast in movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.”