Welcome in - and I hope your week is going well.  Mike and I return on Tuesday after the Labour Day weekend - and you're going to love what we have in store for you then.

This week, it's all about the WestJet getaways - another great week of them, thanks to the great folks at WestJet.  But on September 8th...

The CHFI Ten Grand in Your Hand contest with Pizza Pizza is coming back!  Yes, Pizza Pizza is partnering with us again to give you $1000 cash every day (right after the 7:30 am news) or the chance to win $10,000 on Fridays.  It's your choice - a grand in your hand, or some great odds at $10,000 later in the week.  It's exciting, it's fun and it's all yours from your radio station.

What's cool about this is that we don't make you listen 9 times a day or jump through fiery hoops maybe to get a chance to win something at the end of a month.  It's instant and it's daily.  All you need to do is to be a CHFI Loyalty Club member, and listen to our radio station.  Simple enough, right?

We love to find ways to thank you for that, and for making sure that the places you go and people you know all have CHFI on, too.  Then we all win.

Erin

Happy Friday and thank you for coming by.

You've likely figured out by now that Mike and I aren't in today; we had some days in 2009 we needed to take before the next big ratings period begins.  The way things spread out, this coming week made sense, so...here we aren't.

Now, here's a unique and scary concept: I'm not taking my laptop away with me!  This means no e-mail responses for a week and a bit, and if you have any jokes, stories, YouTube links, etc. and can hold off until after September 8th, I would be very grateful.  See, I am going to a place where relaxation is the entire point.  I need to do this and know that after keeping you abreast of each day and adventure in my trip to Newfoundland, you'll understand that this time is just for silence - in my ears and in my head.  There will be a journal here Monday.

Lauren arrived safely from Ottawa yesterday, by the way.  Once she landed - her first 401 journey under her belt - she remarked on how confusing she found that highway.  She and Nathan made, as she put it, "several wrong lane changes" in anticipation of exits they never took.  But she added that every one of them turned out all right (I don't want to know) and that's what's important.  We took her out for a nice dinner last night - her first in I don't know how long - and today we're just spending a great day together.  God, I've missed that kid.

Before I go today, I have to tell you about an amazing contest that CHFI has put together just for you for being loyal to this terrific radio station that I am so proud to call home.

Next Tuesday morning after The Scoop at around 8:40, we're going to draw the name of a lucky CHFI Loyalty Club member (which ought to be you and everybody you know, quite honestly).  That person - maybe you - will have 10 minutes to call in at 416-872-CHFI and claim the prize: a trip on Wednesday to fly Porter Airlines to Chicago to see Thursday's taping of Oprah's season premiere with Whitney Houston, LIVE!  It's a once-in-a-lifetime prize and CHFI has put this together just for you.

Enter in the CHFI Loyalty Club at www.chfi.com - and don't miss your chance for a stunning way to start September!!!  Come back here on Monday for details on yet another way we're helping to lighten your load and weigh down your wallet.

It's our way of saying "thank you".  You know I'm grateful to you for coming here, for following on Twitter and (most of all) for listening to 98.1 CHFI, but we put our prizes where our mouths - and hearts - are.  Don't miss a chance every day to let us show you how much we appreciate your loyalty.

Take care.  I'll miss being with you here and on the air, but I'll come back with a refreshed spirit, so hopefully you'll benefit a little too.  And we'll be back together on September 8th.  And thank you again.

Erin

Well, here it is Thursday already.

Note to Gene Simmons: before blaming the media for spoiling whatever surprise you say you had in store for Oshawa, be a big man and take responsibility for a PR flop.  Don't blame the public for getting upset when, yet again, somebody doesn't fulfill a promise.  You know, some people still want to believe in their heroes, even if they are 60-year-old men in kabuki makeup.

Moving on...

Had a nice evening with some new friends; Laura Walbourne, the woman who put together our Newfoundland itinerary, and her husband Dave joined us for lots of laughs and a wonderful dinner.  We walked from our place on Bloor to Yorkville, looked in the windows at Holt's and Harry Rosen and made our way to a what was becoming a new favourite: an Italian restaurant that's been there on Bellair forever.  It's a spot Rob and I first enjoyed last month when my sister visited.  And it's nice to have a place that's close that you know will be good when company comes.  So we took Laura and Dave there.

The only problem is that I felt as if I was sitting in the smoking section of a deli.  Because this restaurant has an open front with seating outside (and a partially covered area at that) there were tables filled with four and six people each, almost all of them lighting up in the comfort of a summer evening.  We sat at a table inside, near one of the open doors and were subjected to waves of second hand smoke all through our dinner, coffee and gelato.  It was truly the only sour note of a beautiful evening and, if I was to write a restaurant review of Vaticano on Trip Advisor, I'd have high accolades for the food, but warn visitors not to sit anywhere near the open doors if they plan to enjoy a smoke-free dinner.

It made me remember the days of ubiquitous cigarette smoke.  You don't have to be much older than 35 to remember so-called "smoking sections".  Imagine!  People thought that being in the non-smoking seats of a plane or a train would spare you from the smoke in the rest of those cramped spaces.  As though being in Row 13 would guarantee clean air if Rows 14-30 was designated for smoking!

We laugh now when we see films in which theatregoers' views of the movie screens were obscured by curls of smoke from patrons' cigarettes.  But it wasn't all that long ago, and you can be sure that in some parts of the world it's still the norm.

At one time, we were all used to it, but as times change, so do our laws and our expectations.  Last night, I didn't expect to be seated in a smoking section of a restaurant in Toronto in 2009, all because we chose a table that we thought would let us enjoy the fresh air of a summer evening!

I hope you have a good day today and I'll have a journal for you here tomorrow.  I'm so excited that Lauren and Nathan are coming home today from Ottawa for their first visit ever.  That joy is tempered by a nagging fear of her driving the 401 for the first time, too, but I did it, Rob did it, probably you did it, and we all survived.  So let's hope for the best.

For Mike and me, today is more like Friday, as a tally of vacation remaining in 2009 showed that we'd better get taking some time off before we head into yet another long ratings period.  For that reason, we'll be using up a few days starting tomorrow - a day I'll spend spoiling Lauren.  But you'll be in the very able hands of producers Ian "The General" and Gord, plus Tish Iceton, who'll be joined next week by Darren Osborne.  And then we're all in it for the long haul.  The next time Mike and I go away, it'll be with CHFI listeners - and we hope you're among them.  But I've said too much...get collecting those points!!!  Take care and come back soon.

Welcome to Wednesday.  What a gorgeous day that was, yesterday.  Thank goodness summer has kicked in.  Hope it sticks around 'til the pumpkins are ripe.

Today marks the birthday of somebody special in my life who's catching up to me (she's exactly 11 months younger than I am) in age, and to whom I owe an awful lot.  I teasingly refer to her here as "Jill the Kill", but she's anything but a task master.  Jill is a personal fitness coach, nutritionist and just an all 'round inspiration.  Despite her own health issues, she's one of the healthiest, fittest people on the planet.  She is constantly working to upgrade her knowledge, her skills and her understanding of how our bodies work, what foods we need and those we should never touch again, and just the magic that everything from herbs to veggies and fruits to grains can do for everyone, whether you're diabetic, allergic, lethargic or Catholic.

Okay, I threw that last one in to see if you're paying attention.

I don't write much about having a trainer because I'm well aware of the fact that it could be considered a luxury, especially in these times of cutting back.  Jill and I have talked about her line of work - and, oh, it is work - and the fact that if someone calculated what he or she spent on a dinner out last week or a purse or pair of shoes last month, they'd find that a shift in priorities might bring them to someone like Jill.

When I say she's changed my life in the past year, I'm not lying.  She pointed me in the right direction in terms of my eating habits, she motivates me to work out 2-3 times a week (and wonder why when I don't!) and she makes me look forward to spending our 45 minutes together twice a week.  If that's not motivational, I don't know what is.

We were dubbing some baby videos of Lauren onto discs the other night and I couldn't get over how much extra weight I've carried most of my adult life.  Now I'm in better shape in my 40's than I ever was in my teens, 20's or 30's and, while I wish I'd done this years ago, I'm grateful to be doing it now.  I owe a lot of this to Jill - she tells me that I'm the one doing all the work but I wouldn't be doing it without her - and the best wish I could give to you is the chance to have someone like her in your life.

It's never, ever too late to get in shape, eat more healthily and live a happier life.  I'm living proof, despite last year's sluggish thyroid, and a 4 am wake up every day.  Thanks, Jill, for choosing the life you have and for making the lives of so many others that much better because of it.

Erin

Welcome to Tuesday.  I have to confess something to you: I'm feeling just a little smug today.  My mom and dad have just taken home in their luggage Christmas presents from me for all of the western branch of our family tree.  Done!  Finito!

So, we dropped off the folks and their gift-laden luggage at the airport, and, as we drove off into the hairy rat's nest of construction that is our highway system around Pearson, I wondered why I can never say what's in my heart at those parting moments.  I mean, who knows how many more visits any of us has with the people we love?

But I suppose if we all said what's in our hearts when the time comes to say good-bye, we'd just stand there and bawl like Tammy Faye Bakker anyway, so in a way, it's just as well.  Mascara's not cheap, as you know.

Nothing like a little shopping to ease the blues a bit - even if it is just for a mattress cover - so we stopped at Costco on our way home.  It was there that my warm waves of sentimentality quickly flipped to chilly waves of nausea.  And it was not just 'cause they didn't have a mattress cover.  I am used to the hit-and-miss fortunes of shopping at a big bargain store like that.  No, my stomach did a flip because, in the centre of the massive store, a few aisles past the socks and Twizzlers and leather office chairs, sat several brightly lit and fully assembled artificial Christmas trees.

Yes, Christmas trees.

I know that it's only four months today, but puh-lease, people!  Could we possibly get through summer (which has only just arrived), back-to-school and Hallowe'en before we're ho-ho-horrified by the early onslaught of guerilla Christmas marketing?

I guess I should look at the bright side.  Spring must be just around the corner.  ~ sigh ~

When I tweeted about what I'd seen yesterday, Stephanie tweeted back:

"The YIG (Your Independent Grocer) in Huntsville already has a full out Halloween display going, with candy and everything - they have for about three weeks!"

Erin

Another weekend of decidedly "iffy" weather.  But at least we weren't in danger of losing our homes.  You have to hear an interview we have slated for 6:40 this morning.  A woman who was so excited last Thursday when she won a WestJet trip with us that she pulled the shower curtain down to get to the phone (remember her?) was one block from losing her entire bathroom - and home - later that same day.  Lulu saw her neighbours' homes destroyed by Thursday's tornado.  She says that she won twice that day: once with us, once by dodging the storm's wrath.

Today my parents are on their own WestJet getaway - this one takes them home to Kelowna.  After a 19 day visit - their longest here since leaving Ontario in 2000 - they're headed back to their cat Darcy, daughters Cindy and Heather, and home.  My other sister Leslie and I (and our families) were grateful to have so much time with them this visit.  We shared a lot of laughter and quality time.  We're so lucky that our parents are healthy and vibrant, able to travel and eager to get out and enjoy their senior years.  Mom's coming up on three years since getting that new heart valve and she's making the most of the time she's been given - which we all hope is plentiful!

Speaking of time, boy, they've got it made on the west coast.  Imagine being retired and able to sit down every day at 4 pm for a ball game, knowing it'll be over in time for supper and will free you up for the evening to watch whatever else is on!  They both just love it, and no wonder.  Can you fathom catching the Oscars at 6 pm or so, with all of the red carpet stuff happening at 4 or 5?  The Super Bowl at 3 pm (which would make the pregame action start almost predawn, wouldn't it)?  Just imagine!

Of course there's the downside: they often feel that the nation's fate has already been decided when the polls close in the rest of Canada, while BC voters are still trying to be heard.  It's frustrating for them, to say the least.

But that's what happens when you live in such a vast country with six time zones.  Pity our sisters and brothers in Newfoundland for whom shows like the aforementioned Oscars only start at 10 pm or so.  And imagine how many times just browsing a website would ruin the surprises of a tv show you've had to tape or PVR?

We're all getting used to spoiler alerts now, aren't we?  Thanks to time shifting and cable favourites, it's hardly kosher now to discuss - on the air or off - plot lines or developments in the previous night's shows.  Last Sunday night's long-awaited return of Mad Men is just such an example.  We taped it that night (as it was on past our bedtime) and then watched it Monday and then shared it later in the week with Mary Ellen Beninger, our news goddess in the morning, who doesn't get AMC or Rogers where she lives.  Poor Mary Ellen.  Her life is all about news and the latest word on everything, but she dodged details on the season premiere with the agility of a goalie on a darts team.

This morning after work and a meeting, I'll go home, Mom and I will watch last night's Mad Men (episode two) and then we'll head off to the airport with Dad and Rob.  Sometimes just watching a favourite show together can be a form of bonding.  When words like "good-bye" are tough to get out, sharing an hour of silent enjoyment can suffice, too.

Have a lovely day - I'm happy to say that it's just a few more days until daughter Lauren's first visit home to Toronto since moving to Ottawa two months ago.  I'm grateful for the timing.

Erin

Welcome to Friday.  I'm hoping you can't hear it, but Mike and I are running on less sleep this morning than usual - perhaps 8 hours between us - and Gord's on about the same footing.  What could make us give up a good night's sleep on a "school night"?  Only four guys from New Jersey who sang and scrapped their way into America's, Canada's and much of the world's hearts - the Jersey Boys.

Last night marked the 1st anniversary of this smash hit show at the Toronto Centre for the Arts, and to make it even more memorable, original Four Seasons member, singer, producer and songwriter extraordinaire Bob Gaudio was there to hear in person our screams, shouts and wild applause.

Why, it was almost as tumultuous as the show that Mother Nature put on for us earlier in the evening.  We're going to be hearing lots of stories this morning (from you, I hope) about how last night's suppertime storms affected you and what you saw.  Mike and Gord and I, along with my parents, witnessed it through the windows of the Baton Rouge restaurant near the TCA in North York.

We were grateful to be indoors as we watched the rain swirling upwards in bizarre winds that we later learned were tornado-related.  While Mike called Debbie at their home near Peterborough, we wondered how Pepper fared without his little downers.  No doubt he was scared; we've heard that a funnel cloud passed by our downtown neighbourhood.  Honestly, I can't believe we missed it all.

As we drove home from Jersey Boys last night, the skies were clearing, roads were drying and, in the 11 pm darkness, there were few signs that anything unusual at all had transpired.

I'm going to share with you now the journal I had prepared for today.  It has to do with words.  They'd been on my mind a lot as I warned Mom and Dad about the spicy language in Jersey Boys.  (They rolled with it, feeling as I did that it really did befit the time, the place and the story).  Now, to a setting in which swearing just doesn't.

Words can be so very tricky, especially when we have a split second between brain, mouth and microphone and often no way to erase or rescind those words once they've been said.  We're as careful as we possibly can be, and occasionally the wrong thing (or right thing said wrongly) will slip out.

I tweeted last week about a movie title and my friend and radio colleague did a blog on it, and my decision, last Friday.  So her thinking about my thinking got me thinking and here's today's journal.

What the heck do you do when you host a show on a station known for being very family friendly, and a major movie is released titled Inglourious Basterds?  Okay, never mind the spelling (I'm sure there's a reason behind the spell check nightmare that Tarantino chose) but it's the word "basterds".

I'm not going to say it on our show when we talk about the movie and have - rather unilaterally - decided to call it "Inglourious Bad Guys".  I don't care how my edit sounds, I'm going to err on the side of caution.  I won't shove a word down our listeners' throats - or into their ears - that they wouldn't expect to hear on CHFI.  There are other stations, other people for that.  Part of this station's success has been in giving listeners what they expect, what they want and what they are going to like (we hope).  When we deviate from the formula that's brought us here, we hear about it.  And we listen.

In most cases, the decisions come from years of experience.  That's why, in 2004, Meet the Fokkers - the movie based on a family name designed to titillate and shock a few, simply became "the sequel to Meet the Parents".  People are smart enough to figure that one out.  Yes, there's a plane called a Fokker and if one went down at an air show and it was newsworthy, we'd call it by its name (poor Fokker).  But Stiller was just being Stiller when he wrote that family moniker and titled the sequel.  We didn't buy into it.

In 2005 there was much ado when CHFI chose not to air commercials for an upcoming performance of Vagina Monologues.  The reason?  Because of the word "vagina".  Sure, we all know what it is, and know about the tremendously successful series of plays; thanks to a brilliant documentary, we got to know more about the shows' creator, too.  But the question was this: is "vagina" a word that CHFI listeners expect to hear coming out of their radio?

Andy Barrie on CBC took us to task and had some fun at CHFI's expense (sadly, it seems, without an opportunity given to explain our decision).  On CBC you can get away with just about everything.  What are you going to do, lose sponsors?  Right.  But what I wish we could have explained to the CBC listeners is that, of course, "vagina" isn't a dirty word or one that shouldn't be spoken.  It's just that if a parent wants her child to hear a word that carries more weight than, say, angina or Regina, it should be the parent - or listener's - choice as to when and how that word is said and heard.

Same with bastards, basterds and bass turds.  I'm just not going to introduce words into someone's home that they might not want there.  If that makes me a prude, I'm okay with that.

It's better than making you change your station.

Have a gentle, safe weekend and we'll talk to you again - better rested, for sure - on Monday.

Erin

Welcome in to Thursday and thank you for coming by.  I've told you that this week Rob and I are entertaining my parents; last night we endured Roy Halladay and the Jays in their 6-1 loss to the Boston Red Sox.  Tonight we're catching Jersey Boys (my fourth time and, yes, I'll keep seeing it for the awesome live performances - the energy is indescribable).

But I am going to have to find words for the show that we took in on Tuesday night when we made a long-awaited visit to the Princess of Wales Theatre to see The Sound of Music.  If you have any doubts of the diversity of entertainment in this town, try seeing Jersey Boys two nights after The Sound of Music.  In both cases, you're bound to say, "Oh, what a night!"

A bit of background on Sound of Music: in June of 2008, some 48 would-be Marias leapt (danced, actually) at the chance to be part of a reality audition TV show on the CBC.  Entitled How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?, the show was based on a successful British model put together by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, in which the star of a West End London production of The Sound of Music was chosen by judges and, ultimately, the public.

Here in Canada, the winner was Elicia MacKenzie, but we were incredibly impressed by the performance of contest runner-up Janna Polzin of Woodstock.  I had no idea we were watching an alternate cast member until the half, when I perused the programme and also learned that the actor who played Captain Von Trapp, Burke Moses, originated the role of Gaston in Beauty and the Beast on Broadway and in London's West End!

I can't rave enough about the performances.  From the regal vocals of Noëlla Huet as the Mother Abbess (your basic #1 Nun), to the delightfully sweet display from the young actors embodying the Von Trapp children, every performance was true with nary a weak moment or a false note.  How proud the parents of these future Dora winners must be!  Oh, your heart goes out to every one of these kids.

We are even treated to three songs that were not in the movie version of the story with which we're all so familiar.  A delightful surprise.  While the movie's bun-numbing duration is pared down to two-and-a-half hours (and that includes an intermission), the musical flies by, never lags and will have you laughing, crying and cheering.  Honestly, it will.  I haven't felt this unabashedly giddy - and emotional - at a play in I don't know how long.  If you're looking to awaken your spirit, or just to have a good time in the theatre with a family-friendly, beautiful show, you have got to make the time to see this one.

Don't be like me and wait for an excuse like my parents' visit to see this show.  It's like Niagara Falls - a natural wonder that will take your breath away, but one that should definitely not be shelved and saved just to show off to company!

Just as a side note, there are all kinds of special deals going on that can get you discounts on everything from dinners to hotel rooms to CN Tower visits.  It's a phone-only deal, so call 416-872-1212 or 1-800-461-3333 to find out more about the packages.  And again, don't wait.

Tomorrow here - language that does and doesn't fit on the air waves.

Erin

Wednesday already - this week is flying by.  The Sound of Music at the Princess of Wales was astounding last night - no wonder people are raving about it.  I love when something actually measures up to the hype.  I'll have more here tomorrow; we were home too late last night to get it all put together, edited and posted so that we could do the experience justice.

Tonight we take Mom and Dad to the Rogers Centre to catch two teams that should be duking it out for top spot in the AL East.  Alas, our Blue Jays have tripped up hugely after such an incredible start, and it would take nothing short of a miracle to get Cito and the lads into the post season this year.  Anyway, at least my folks get to see their favourite team (the Jays, of course) and its best pitcher, Roy Halladay, in person tonight.  Should be fun.

See where Molson/Coors has pulled those billboards saying their beer is "colder than most people from Toronto".  While I'm not a fan of negativity, I can't see folks here getting their shorts in a knot about it.  I guess some did, and they're coming down (not the shorts, the billboards).  Doesn't it kinda make it look like, in addition to being chilly, we're also lacking in a sense of humour?

The way I see it, two good things came out of the story: Molson/Coors got their product mentioned a lot for free yesterday.

Secondly, maybe if you're like me, you made a point of making more eye contact and smiling a little more yesterday to just show 'em all that we're not so cold after all.  Perhaps the little jibe that light-hearted billboard message contained will prove a reminder that we need to get over ourselves a bit, lighten up and be a little friendlier.  A smile really does go a long way.  So what if they think you're nuts?  We all are, anyway; we're just talking degrees here, aren't we?

Have a great day and we'll talk to you here tomorrow.

Erin

Hey there - thanks for coming by on this steamy Tuesday in the city.  "Hot enough fer ya?"  Um, yes.  But not complaining.  Wouldn't dare.  Just very grateful for central air and healthy lungs when I'm not in that cooled air.

Things are heating up around our place schedule-wise these days with Mom and Dad pulling in this afternoon.  Although finding nap time when you've got company can be challenging (not to mention tearing yourself away from an evening visit to go to bed) but my folks are accommodating and understand that sleep - and the show - come first.

Probably the worst part - and it's not so bad - is that our pups, who nap with Rob and me, want to be wherever the action is.  That means scratching to get out of our room, pawing to get back in - over and over.  It also means ear plugs are going to be a must for the next few days.  And don't get me wrong - I'm not complaining about company, either.  I'm so grateful that the folks are spending a few more days with us before they head home to BC.  These visits are few, far between and very, very much appreciated.  So we're trying to make it fun for them!

At long last, I'm going to see The Sound of Music tonight at the Princess of Wales Theatre.  I've only heard rave reviews for the show and am curious as to just what makes it stand head and shoulders above the rest.  Not being much of a TV watcher, I missed the whole CBC reality show where they chose the Maria to star in this, so I'm going in cold, as it were.  The challenge, I think, will be not singing along!

I'll share some thoughts on it with you, probably on Thursday, since we'll be getting in a little too late tonight for me to do the experience justice for you.  I hope to have some unique photos too; can't say more than that right now.  (And no, I'm not bringing a camera to the show itself...!)

I wanted to mention a dinner that's taking place up in our neck of the woods - near Bolsover (or north Beaverton, we could call it).  If you miss sharing your dinner time with CTV's Dave Devall, we have just the ticket.  A special fundraising dinner is being held with everybody's favourite retired weather prognosticator as Guest of Honour.  And you're invited!  The food at Fairhavens is notoriously fabulous - great staff there, friendly and fabulous in the kitchen - and you're guaranteed a good time.
 

Now, the reason for the dinner.  First of all, Dave's our across-the-water neighbour at the cottage.  So he knows what the area's been going through as we try to mount yet one more fight against an incoming quarry in the area.  Regardless of the aesthetic damage (and the fact that there are already too damned many gravel trucks and quarries everywhere north of Highway 7) the quarry has the potential to cause untold damage to water tables, dams, wildlife, and many more areas of life in the area.

This fight has gone on for about a decade now and every time the good guys get closer to a win, there's either a shift in government on one level or another, or somebody makes a decision that puts everything closer to peril.  We are fighting in hopes that just once, the little guy will come out ahead.  And kudos to Dave for donating an evening to help out.  Rob and I would love to attend but will be out of town that weekend.  I'll donate some prizes, but I wanted to tell you about this fun, intimate dinner.

Have a great day, stay cool and we'll be back with you here tomorrow.  Take care,

Erin

These are the good old days.  [Carly Simon,"Anticipation"]

Welcome to Monday.  We spent a wonderful relaxing weekend with
my mom and dad, who have now headed east to spend a couple of
days with friends in the Brighton and Trenton area.  They make their
way to our place in Toronto tomorrow and we've lots planned, but for
now I'm looking in the rearview mirror rather than what's on the
calendar this week.

You'll have to forgive me and those like me today who have our head
in the clouds - if there are any - after the perfection of this past
weekend.  A sultry couple of hazy summer days spent relaxing,
rejuvenating and reconnecting.  Although part of me was wishing it
was June and that we had two or three months of this paradise to look
forward to, when I found myself thinking that way I had to give my
head a shake and make a point of being right there.  In the moment.

Sitting outside in the early morning cool, before the dew dissolves and
the heat settles in.  Watching our new northern neighbours pull the
biggest fish out of our little part of the Trent Canal that we've ever
seen.  Following with our eyes and ears a little family of young blue
jays as they skritched and squawked their way from tree to tree,
finding their voices as well as their wings.  Delighting in a visit from a
cardinal and her crimson mate as they stopped by a feeder filled with
only them in mind.  In those moments.

Today the work world and whirl beckon.  The e-mails that silently nag,
the phones and duties that call more loudly, the neck-twinging traffic
tie-ups, and bloated schedules burdened with more commitments
than a day's hours will allow.

Let us carry with us the sweetness of the days just passed until it's
faded, as all good things must, then replace it with the anticipation of
more still to come.

These are the good old days - and with three weeks until Labour Day,
rather than lamenting summer's late arrival, let's squeeze every
moment of perfection from the languorous days ahead.  Have a
wonderful day and week.  Talk to you again here tomorrow.

Erin

On the eve of the 40th anniversary of Woodstock, guitar legend and musical inventor extraordinaire Les Paul died yesterday.  Today, to paraphrase George Harrison, every guitar gently weeps.  He made the world a better sounding place, six strings at a time.

You know, I get some great e-mails at erin@erindavis.com.  Like the one the other day from an English teacher (and Canadian) working in Poland.  Sometimes the sheer volume is a little daunting and I answer them as fast as I can, but know that at the very least, I read them the day that they arrive.

I thought that today I'd share a few with you, having to do with topics we've discussed on the show this week, but also what's in my journal every day.

I'm so still touched to be getting your thanks for the photos and stories about Newfoundland.  It makes the hours of work well worth it.  Thank you.  Here's a note from Sharon:

"Good Morning Erin! I enjoyed "our" trip out east. Newfoundland is the only province I haven't visited and for sure it is on the top of my list for next summer.

"Your reno to Lauren's room is exactly what I have planned for any of the three bedrooms of the kid who moves out first. I guess they call them Murphy beds because; Jesus Murphy! I thought they would never leave!

"Crinkled tissue paper....I have lots and use it. If you purposely scrunch each sheet into a ball then carefully smooth it out, stuff into a gift bag as usual. It still looks pretty. Also, it makes great wrapping when you have many little gifts that will be given in the same bag, box or whatever. The receiver has the joy of tearing open and you have done your part to RRR.

"Please give us a few pix of your new room. I am in the middle of raking, washing, sorting and pocketing strewn coins I find as I clean out my son's room. He is on a canoe trip in Temagami. He will have a meltdown upon his return and get over it in a few days. I don't "smell dead people" anymore!

"Have yourself a fine day Erin!  Sharon."

Here's a pic of the light we chose for the room - my favourite touch.  Since the built-ins are a little austere, the light just totally tarts it up, don't you think?  (The pulldown for the bed is to the right in this shot)

As for the bed, it's also unique in that it opens down sideways, rather than end-to-end.  Makes the most use of a small room, we think.  Just Google "murphy beds" and you'll see the vast array that's out there.  Who knew?

From Elaine (who wrote with the great website www.stilltasty.com about foods' shelf lives and best-before info), this great e-mail:

"Hi Again Erin!

"My daughter and I saw Julie & Julia and loved it immensely. We are definitely going to make the Boeuf Bourguignon with a few short cuts. I am intrigued by both the women, and have found Julie's blog on salon.com which I am reading. If you are interested it is http://blogs.salon.com/0001399.

"Julia was quite a lady. My best memory of her is watching the Martha Stewart Christmas show and Julia and Martha were both making Croquembouche.  Martha's was a perfect tower with spun sugar drizzled all over, and Julia's was a mess. She said that she liked Martha's better - very funny.

"Take care.  Elaine."

Live large, baby!  I'll be back with you here on Monday.  Sure hope the drive in is a lot less eventful than the one this week!

Erin

Saw a great little movie the other night and thought you might want to hear about it: Julie and Julia.  It stars Amy Adams (Oscar nominee for her role in Doubt, and total charmer in the film Enchanted) and an actress for whom adjectives just don't suffice, Meryl Streep, who of course was nominated for an Oscar for her role in Doubt as well.  In it, Amy plays Julie Powell, a just-turning-30 office worker and frustrated writer who retreats to the kitchen to find peace and solace.  (Get this: it's not even the fridge she seeks solace from, it's the stove!  It gets more believable, I promise you.)

Julie decides she's going to cook her way through her idol Julia Child's magnum opus, Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  On top of that, she's going to blog about it.  Oh, and she sets herself a deadline of one year to cook over 500 recipes.  Suffering soufflés, such saucy ambition!

Julia Child exists in the film in more than just name and as a muse; she's brought to life by Streep - who can even act TALL for heaven's sake! - as the formidable yet wonderfully human being behind the apron and cookbook.  You did know that Ms Child was with the OSS (a precursor to the CIA) during WWII, didn't you?  You could even call her "The Spy Who Fed Me".

Nora Ephron, whose directing I've found to be well-meaning but not always well-targeted in the past, has delivered her own chef d'oeuvre this time.  It's a wonderfully balanced story, tenderly told and one that leaves a moviegoer with a smile on her face, and a good taste in her mouth.

Oh, and just a bit of a craving for anything sautéed in butter!

If I had one complaint, it's that after an entire year of cooking and eating - let's see - deboned and stuffed duck, spongy cake smothered in chocolate frosting, raspberry cream dessert, Boeuf Bourguignon and Lobster Thermidore (to name but a few mouthwatering concoctions), neither Julie nor her adorable husband Paul (same name as Julia's hubby, by the way) seems to gain a single ounce.

Oh, yes, mention was made of the chef getting "fat" but puh-lease.  She ended up the same size 6 she started at.  Chalk it up perhaps to the stress of a one year deadline for 524 recipes, but I can tell you that I felt like I gained 10 pounds just watching her make and eat all of that rich, wonderful food.  Had I actually cooked and devoured it, I'd have had trouble finding rubber gloves that fit me - after one MONTH!

(By the way, after I tweeted about weight and the movie, I got a response from friend Stephanie who says that, in the book, which she called "delicious", Powell did gain, and wrote about it.  Maybe the book is worth a read - if I can find a way to padlock the fridge until I get through every butter-soaked page of it!)

But I nitpick.  The film was totally worth it.  If you're looking for a lovely diversion, Julie and Julia is just what you'll want to order.  But don't go to the movie hungry lest your tummy growling drowns out the dialogue on the screen.  Better yet, have a little snack and make reservations for dinner afterwards.

And an interesting postscript: Julia Child passed away on this day five years ago at the age of 91.   

"Bon Apetit!"  Je retournerai demain.

Erin

Good day and welcome to Wednesday.  Forgot to mention here yesterday that August 11th marked my parents' 53rd wedding anniversary.  Mom said not to bother with a fuss - she says, "Wait 'til our 60th."  But that's, like, 9 years away.  (tee hee).

We're sharing custody, my sister and I, and this week Mom and Dad are staying with Leslie, her husband and three kids up in Horseshoe Valley.  They're all having fun, no doubt.  It's a lot more boisterous than the quiet zen-like atmosphere we try to cultivate at the cottage, but what good are grandkids if they can't make noise, right?

Next week when the folks are with us, we're gonna show 'em the town: to Sound of Music at the Princess of Wales (I figure it's about time I saw it, too!) then the Jays vs Red Sox on Wednesday.  And if we can take one more big night, we're going to the 1st anniversary performance of Jersey Boys.  Never mind them, I am going to need a weekend to recover from all of the excitement!  Ah well, we only see them once or twice a year at the most, so we might as well show them a good time.

Despite last Friday's rather panicked journal about entertaining, I am always glad to have people come over so that we get the little things done.  You know, like...renovating bedrooms?  I suppose it's a cinch we'll never win "Parents of the Year" but, while we were in Newfoundland, we had a bunch of built-ins, including a murphy bed (folds down from the wall), installed in the bedroom formerly known as Lauren's.

My parents will be the inaugural guests when they stay with us next week.  Lauren saw it last night when I took my laptop into the bedroom while we were on Skype.  She loved it!  Asked why we didn't do it while she lived at home.  The answer?  It had to be cleared out first!  We even tilted the laptop to show her what the bottom of her closet looks like ('cause we never saw it for the three years she used it).

The best part of this little reno is that we have more storage space and I can finally move some stuff out of my closet.  Stuff like wrapping paper.  Am I cheap for saving previously-used tissue paper?  I know it doesn't make sense, in that usually it's more wrinkled than a Kleenex that's gone through the wash, and I'll likely never rewrap a gift in it.  Still, there's something so cheery and bright about tissue paper that I can never quite come around to throwing it out.  So now it has a new home in a different room.  Brilliant.

Well, on that note, I'll say, "That's a wrap."  (Boooooo....)  Have a great day, won't you?

Oh, I can write about it now, but yesterday was one of the worst mornings of my life.  Maybe it shows I live a pretty calm life - few panic situations - but it was harrowing just the same.

Rob and I got up a little earlier than usual to leave plenty of time to leave Bolsover (near Beaverton) and drive through whatever Mother Nature threw our way on the way home.  After Sunday night's storms, we weren't taking any chances.

3:20 am:  I'm ready to go, but Rob's in the driveway cleaning up garbage.  A raccoon had decided to check out what was for din-dins and in so doing, made a mess and took away any time cushion we might have built in.

3:40 am:  We're on the roads which are almost dry!  All of a sudden, my stomach feels like it's full of Drano, and that's exactly what my tummy wanted to do.  In the fastest way possible.  I put my laptop on my belly to act like a high-tech hot water bottle and tried to make it to Toronto without any mishaps.

4:00 am:  We pull off the highway so that I can exit the car.  Please cut away now to flowers and butterflies.  Thank you.

4:03 am:  We're back in the car and then the natural light show begins again.   Lightning illuminates the sky, freezing the windshield wipers' images in our eyes for split seconds.  Thunder follows, and then the inevitable torrential rains.  We see a guy with no light riding his bicycle along Highway 48; for a moment it looks like a horse or deer running along the shoulder in the dark.  Scares us both.  This drive just keeps getting better.  Poor Rob.  Doesn't want to sip his coffee in case it sets off my tummy again.

4:10 am:  We arrive at the much-anticipated Petro Canada station in Baldwin - the first such spot that's open on our drive back to the city.  Nature is calling again (this time from a different - um, location) and as promised, the service station is open 24 hours.  Yippee!  I jump out of the car and run through the rain into the station/store.  As I skid to a stop, I see a handwritten sign on the bathroom door: "Out of Service.  Sorry."  I ask the sleepy attendant at the desk, "Is that sign right?  Is it really out of service?"  And he answered in the affirmative.  I responded with a few words that I can't write here - not directed at him, but just basically saying I was in a world of trouble - and dashed back to the car, stopping Rob as he prepared to buy some gas and "pay" for my visit.  We both jumped back in the car and continued our drive to Toronto.  I am wondering why God is mad at me (or if the station always closes its washroom at night so the young guy doesn't have to clean it) and wrap myself in a fleece blanket that I've had to borrow from the dogs in the back seat.

4:30 am:  We pull up to Woodbine and Ravenshoe Road where traffic signals have been knocked out by the powerful storms.  We carefully make our way off the highway and into the parking lot of a brightly lit Esso station where, God bless them, they have a clean, available washroom.

One short verse of the "Hallelujah Chorus" and a ginger ale purchase later, and we are back on the road.

4:57 am:  Rob stops the car in front of 777 Jarvis Street.  I exit, carrying the car blanket with me for comfort, and make my way up to our studios where Mike and Gord await.  (I'd e-mailed to tell them I might be "delayed" en route, and why.  Gord wrote back and said that he had a big bowl of chili waiting for me.  These are my friends.)

And I was darned glad to see them, I'll tell you.

That was the trip in to work yesterday.  Once we got the show rolling, skies cleared, the sun rose and things looked a whole lot friendlier than they had just a few hours earlier.

My tummy didn't quite progress the same way and I had to leave the studio quite a few times during the course of the show.  By 8 am the sips of ginger ale were staying down.

9:20 am I was home in my bed.

And that, my friend, is the story of my Monday morning.  Haven't pinpointed yet what caused the illness - and no, my guests weren't sick and neither was Rob, thank goodness! - but I just want to say that I never, ever want a commute like that again...where the conditions outside the car were just as mean as those going on inside me!

Hope your Tuesday is a good one - and thanks for coming by.  And yes, I feel 100% today, thanks.  Or at least, 98.1% - which will do nicely, too.

Monday already.  How did you like our first real taste of summer weather?  If you're like me, it's also the first time this year that you've crossed your fingers and held your breath as you turned on a window air conditioner and prayed that it worked.

At the cottage we have three - one that came with the place and is Nixon era, and two that are newer and more efficient.  They all worked - even though there were times last evening that we were sure we'd lose power (like so many did, as it turns out).  All went well, and as we left the cottage at 3:30 this morning, Mom and Dad were sound asleep in their little beddies.

It's weird saying "goodnight" and tucking into bed at 8:30 on a Sunday evening when you've got company in your house, but Mom and Dad know my life well enough to understand that when we get up at 2:50 on a Monday to head down to the city where work and home await, we've just got to hit the hay long before it gets dark out.

It took a while for my folks to "get" what my life is about.  Although Dad was well versed in the art of napping (as a military and later civilian pilot, he knew the importance of catching 40 - or even 20 - winks whenever the opportunity arose), for the longest time they couldn't quite understand why I slept every afternoon.

My mom would say, "You're sleeping your life away!" as though at 2:00 every afternoon I was missing a ticker tape parade featuring Gandhi, Jesus and Buddha and if only I'd stay awake and head outside, I'd learn the answers to all of life's questions.  Darn those naps (but thank heavens for ear plugs).

But then the reality of my life - and that of everyone who gets up long before the sun and even the birds - sank in.  While everyone's body clock slows down and needs rewinding in the mid-afternoon hours, if you are tired to start with, you are a danger to yourself and everyone around you if you're up during that time.  We plan it so that it's very rare that Rob and I don't sleep 2 or 3 hours every afternoon.  If we didn't, there's no way we could go out in the evenings, or even stay up 'til 10 watching the shows we've PVRed.

My good friend Lisa occasionally blogs about how she's loving having her life back since leaving the pre-dawn hours and working a regular day shift.  Radio websites will bow in deference to guys (mostly) who got up at 4 am for a decade or so, and how they deserve to have a break.  Well, this September will mark 27 years of mornings for me, 25 of them in Toronto as of November.  I've been getting up at the "crack of yawn" since I was 19 years old.  And people wonder why we so look forward to vacations.  It's not just the adventures, for heaven's sake, it's the sleep!!!

Hope you got lots of it on the weekend and are ready for whatever the days ahead may hold.  Take care and thanks for coming by.

Goodness knows if it wasn't for you - listening, dropping in to read this - the joy of those early mornings wouldn't be there to make it all just so worthwhile.

Welcome in to a Friday as we wrap up the week and welcome what appears to be an unsettled weekend weatherwise.

It just figures, doesn't it?  Sunshine and comfortable temperatures all week and then Saturday appears (and Sunday, too) and we're into heat and showers and possible thunderstorms.  Usually, I just try to roll with it - we're used to disappointing forecasts by now - but we are going to have company at the cottage with my folks, who arrive tonight, and one of my two BC sisters and her hubby who'll land tomorrow.  So, obviously, I want everybody outside!

Bought a bunch of different marinated meats for the barbecue from a butcher near Orillia last weekend.  They're all just sitting in the freezer waiting for me to pick what to cook (or what to get Rob to cook) but, so far, I haven't even put together a grocery list for the rest of the weekend's meals: side dishes, salads, desserts - you know, the other stuff that can't go on a grill.

I love the notion of entertaining, but when the rubber hits the road (or the guests hit the welcome mat), I find it very stressful.  Some people are just effortlessly and naturally welcoming, and the "swwwock" that accompanies the opening of a jar of peanuts can signify the start of a grand social occasion.

Me?  I get palpitations at the thought of even gentle cottage neighbours coming over.  For one thing, we rarely have wine or any other libations on hand (besides diet pop).  Rob and I eat so oddly and erratically that I can't even tell you if we have cereal in the cupboard.

I do know I have sour cream with a July 11 expiry date that I found and opened last night.  It's fine.  I bought three tubs of the stuff with plans to use it in a cold cucumber soup back in June.  But when the weather called for a hot soup instead, the sour cream got shoved to the back of the fridge where everything else goes to die a quiet, mostly dark death, accompanied only by dried mango slices and a jar of jerk seasoning purchased on our first trip to Jamaica in 1992.

If it's just the two of us, I can throw a meal together with little effort (got that from my mom and she did it in the pre-microwave days) but when it comes to "entertaining", it's another story.

I love to envision a spread that includes smart little hors d'oeuvres, sparkling cocktails, matchy-matchy napkins, clever coasters and effervescent conversation.  Why, except for the cigarettes and drunk driving, it's just like an episode of Mad Men!

However, reality includes odds and ends from the rolled-up cracker bags, a dusty tin of smoked oysters, cheese with the blue bits cut off, shreds of paper towel and glasses of whatever beer is leftover from Rob's brother's last visit.

I think I'll sign off now and start making a grocery list.  First though, my Martha Stewart doll needs another pin through the head.

Have a great weekend and we'll talk to you here on Monday.

Here we are at Thursday already.  I'm getting excited about my parents' visit - they arrive at Pearson tomorrow evening.  We're planning lots of fun including theatre, Blue Jays and, of course, just quiet time at the cottage.  Haven't seen them since Christmas.

Is Paula Abdul really leaving American Idol?  A 680 News website poll asked readers if they'll miss her and the results showed 60% who answered will not.  In a "you can't fire me, I quit" move, Paula tweeted on Tuesday night that she has decided not to return; Fox countered with a "we wish her all the best" response.  Now it's up to viewers to make their voices heard.  Which raises a lot of questions.

Is August the best time to get people worked up about anything?  Will this work?  Would she come back if they met at least some of her financial requests?  Do true Paula fans read news websites?  This is a breezy summer diversion at best, but it could be interesting to see if she can change the way the contract negotiation game is played.  That is, by using Twitter and public comments as opposed to closed door hammering out of details.  We'll see if Paula's going back to Idol or kicking back, being idle.

Had our first real taste of satellite radio on our trip east as the car we drove had Sirius XM programming.  Armed with a list of the stations and their formats, we tested a few dozen of them, as some places we drove couldn't even receive CBC on the terrestrial radio - isn't there a national law against that?  I thought I'd share with you a few observations.

First of all, let me tell you this: I'm biased.  I believe that forcing people to pay for something they're used to getting for free is an uphill battle.  Make that request during a recession and you really find out what your listenership is made of.  Howard Stern sure has.  (Part of his big drop, though, is because when you're on satellite and there are no more envelopes to push, how do you "shock" anyone?  There's a comedy channel on satellite so raunchy it would curl your hair.  Top that, King of all Mediocrity.)

Secondly, I am not a fan of getting rid of the people connection that makes radio so special - the "I feel like I know you" that listeners express when it comes to the relationship they have with their favourite station and its people.  The one that makes them stand up and be heard when one of them is suddenly dejobbed.  Yes, I know whereof I speak.

Commercials?  A necessity in private radio.  You may not like to hear the music or the show in general interrupted for an ad or six, but if the lights are going to stay on and all of the people who work for that broadcaster are going to pay their mortgages, we need to play them.  It also means you get your shows and entertainment for free.  Just listen to the ads.  That's all we ask and we do our best to make them entertaining and well produced.

I mistakenly believed that one of the attractions to satellite had to do with the fact that there are no commercials.  Wrong, Radioactive Woman.  For example, I tuned in comedy channels and got - you guessed it - commercials.  Promos for other satellite programming, and commercials.  That was a surprise, and not a pleasant one.

The channels that do have actual people on them seem to use them in 7 to 10 second sprinkles to blurt out something that may, or more often may not, have to do with the songs coming up or just played.  The personalities, whose names we are perhaps supposed to know (either from radio days gone by or from music video shows long since shelved) sound like their best days are way behind them.  Of course, those are just the ones that we heard.  There may be some still at the top of their game, but we just didn't hear any.

Would I give up my radio or - in places that I couldn't get stations I like - my iPod connection, and pay for satellite service?

Nope.  The quality in programming just isn't there.  The computer (or whoever is inputting content) doesn't know enough to segue a song gently into another song and, of course, the computer is virtually unable to mix music, beats, etc..  One example would be crashing from a rocking Foreigner hit to a sappy ballad - yes, we're talking the 70's channel - without something in between to soften the blow.  I don't know how many times we said, "That was a train crash," when one song slammed into another.

The comedy we heard during our hours and hours of time on the road was rerun far too frequently, there wasn't enough variety in the material (three out of four bits seemed to be "ain't we redneck" southern comedy), was poorly edited with clunky endings - and timing, as we know, is the essence of comedy - or it was just plain raunchy, unfunny or so creaky that its relevance had long since faded.

We tried spoken word.  Most, if not all, of the radio dramas were older than water and too corny to stand up well.  I love a good story on the radio, but I didn't hear any.  And the music?  We played a game while listening to stations called The Bridge and Classic Vinyl: anytime we heard Jackson Browne, Simon and/or Garfunkel, the Eagles (together or individually) or Steely Dan, we'd change the channel.  It got changed a lot.  Not that we dislike those artists, but each of the channels seem to be saddled with far too tiny a musical universe.  It got to be laughable.

Of course, that may have to do with the fact that we tried to listen to satellite for hours on end.  We heard it all.  And then we heard it all again.  Perhaps the target customer listens for an hour here and there?

You may not agree, and that's to be expected.  What we listen to is a very personal thing.  I just know that when it comes to what emanates from my car's speakers, I'll take good old terrestrial radio, its people, its variety and, yes, even its commercials.  Siriusly.

Well, at least it started well.  Despite Halladay's crumpling in the 8th and allowing back-to-back homers, and the Jays' eventual 5-3 loss to the Yankees, we had just a fabulous time doing the American and Canadian anthems and watching the Wise Guys throw out the First Pitch at last night's game at Rogers Centre.

You can see the whole story of CHFI Night at the Jays game - chapter by chapter - in my videos and I hope you'll check it out.  In the meantime, some pictures for you here today.

After we gathered in the Gate 9 reception area, we went upstairs to surprise Jays staffer Kellie, who enjoys our show every morning.

Her boss Sheila was away, but apparently she's a pretty big fan of the show, too.  So we couldn't resist posing in her office just to let her know we were there. (No, we didn't steal anything.  Honest!)

Way down in the basement in the 000 section of the Rogers Centre, this guy's at the ready in case one of the Wise Guys trips or Mike strains a vocal cord.

We get to the media dugout area, we're saying hello to folks sitting up in the seats above.  Suddenly, number 12, Roberto Alomar, shows up and gets a whiff of the Wise Guys.  "Can I PLEASE get my picture with them?" he asks.

We finally relented and said, "Oh, all right, Roberto."  My attempts to act cool were, um, unsuccessful.  That hot little number to the far right is apparently the new Mrs. Alomar.  Not bad if you like gorgeous, shapely, young, etc..  I suppose some men like those things in a woman.

Let's try to look cool this time.  Nope, missed again.

Here, Wise Guys Ian and Gord enjoy this moment and a ball, as they prepare to throw out the First Pitch.

Here are my favourite guys with mascot Ace.  Is it me, or is Ace looking a little underfed these days?  (Perhaps just standing with the Wise Guys will give that impression....)

Here we are, assembled along the first base line, all ready to perform.  Nerves?  Naw!

Here are Mike and I doing the anthems - well received, I must say...especially by all the Yankees fans in the house and oh, there were plenty of 'em.

And then we visited our CHFI Ticket Blitz winners up in a box at the Centre.  I was goofing around and doing my best Dorf imitation (note the shoes)...

And then we went home.  Actually, after dropping off the guys, Rob and I celebrated a beautiful summer evening with a stop at DQ.  And look what I saw outside.

Life is good, ice cream makes it better and summer is the best.  Thanks for sharing another fun adventure with me here today.  Have a great Wednesday and we'll talk again here tomorrow.

Erin

Well, here it is, fourth day of August.  That's hard to believe.  Other unfathomables: the number of leaves we saw in Ontario, Quebec and Atlantic Canada with colours beginning to change from green to red.  No!  Not yet!  We've so much summer yet to embrace.

It's also impossible to grasp that our two week trip to, from and through Newfoundland is already over - something we'd been planning for and looking forward to for months is now just a collection of memories and digital pictures.  But oh, what memories!

After today, I'll lay to rest the topic of Newfoundland, but there's just something I have to say to you about this province.  Its spirit is amazing - I laughed whenever I heard anyone say that "1949 was the year that Canada joined Newfoundland" - but the thing that I will take with me always is the one word that describes this ruggedly beautiful part of our country: unspoiled.

Truly, it is that.  While there are parts of this country that are jaw-droppingly beautiful, there's something about Newfoundland that is so much more modest.  No three-hour lineups to see a lighthouse, for example; no attractions whose names are embroidered on cushions for you to buy in tourist trap shops.  They just aren't there.  The only traffic slowdowns are for construction to improve already impressive roads; parking is never an issue and the pace is leisurely, to say the least.

Most of all, you'd be hard pressed to find kinder and more authentic people anywhere you travel.  You'll never see more Canada flags, Newfoundland flags and "Support Our Troops" magnetic ribbons and signs, either.  There's a fierce sense of loyalty and what's right in Newfoundland and one that we could all use a healthy dose of in our own hearts as Ontarians and Canadians.

What other province in the country inspires people to put a sticker in their back window or on their bumper, in the shape of their home province?  There's something about hardship and tough times - of which Newfoundlanders have seen more than their share over the past 500 years - that makes people rise up as one.

And the Irish flavour is unmistakable.  It's as though all the Scottish who left and came west parked their ships in Nova Scotia, while the Irish stopped off in Newfoundland.  The musical influences, the speech, the fighting spirit; everything points to Ireland.

Well, back to Ontario now and our lives here in the GTA.  It's a blessing that the strike is over and some semblance of normalcy resumes for the second half of this summer.  Let's hope that the weather (forecast to be chillier than normal this week) smartens up and affords us the sunshine and warmth we deserve.

Tonight, Mike, the Wise Guys and I will be at Rogers Centre, as Mike and I sing the national anthems for the Jays/Yankees game.  Perhaps the Wise Guys will do an interpretive dance.  Let's hope not!  We'll be on the field by 7 to do our thing, so be sure you get there early if you've snagged tickets to the game.  We'll share stories and pics tomorrow.  I'll say "hi" to A-Rod for you.  (I hear he was up in Muskoka with Kate Hudson - maybe she'll be at the game, too. I am simply breathless with anticipation.)

Take care and thanks for coming by.  If you missed yesterday's journal about butterflies and spirituality, I hope you'll check it out.  Who knows - maybe it speaks to you.

Erin

Happy Civic Holiday!  Or, I guess, Simcoe Day.  Whatever it is, I hope you're enjoying a day off - and thanks for coming by.

Hope your weekend is going, or has gone well.  I am adding today's journal for a few reasons.  One is that I've had so much in the last two weeks' journals that I didn't want to try your eyeballs too much.  (And today's is an eyeful, for sure).  Also, I just wanted to give you something to think about.  Ah, look at this beautiful hibiscus.  My favourite flower, it reminds me of tropical getaways!

First, the Gros Morne Theatre Festival is NOT to be missed.  If you're coming up the west side of Newfoundland, you have to make plans to stop in Cow Head (yes, that's the town's name) and see one of the offerings of its festival.

Rob and I were lucky to see a simply incredible (Toronto or New York quality - no doubt whatsoever) cast performing one of the five "Mercer Family" plays.  We caught Leaving Home, listed by Oxford as one of the 1000 most essential plays in the English language.  As I say, the performances are flawless - actors from across Canada take different roles in the five plays over four nights - and one could take in the entire series in a short stay near Cow Head.

Now in its 14th year, the Gros Morne Theatre Festival is well worth your precious holiday time.  Believe me, we weren't sure we wanted to spend an evening in the theatre on our vacation, as it's often how I spend work evenings.  But it was completely amazing.  The audience cheered and was in tears - have I said how astounding the cast was?  Shaw - Mirvishes - please bring this series to NOTL and Toronto!

Now to something equally uplifting to the spirit.

Who goes on vacation and looks at bugs (that is, besides campers and people in seedy motels)?  But you have to believe me when I say that a visit to the Newfoundland Insectarium & Butterfly Pavilion in Reidville (just outside Deer Lake, the main airport destination for the west coast of NL) was a small source of big memories for our trip and could be for you and your kids, too.

It's one of only two such facilities in Canada (the other's in Montreal and has far more resources, i.e. $$$) and is housed in a former cattle barn.  The restoration itself is awe-inspiring - do you see the cedar arch beams?  Here's founder and operator, and the man whose vision and dream this insectarium is, Lloyd Hollett.

A onetime forestry worker, Lloyd decided to put his love and knowledge of what he learned "in the field" and share it with children, entomology students and the public in general.  His work includes ordering and receiving regular shipments of larvae from as far away as the Philippines and Costa Rica.  With only days to live, you don't want to know what happens to these little guys when shipments are delayed!

Look at this gorgeous golden larva Rob's holding.  The gold is a sign to birds that the chrysalis is poisonous and to stay away.  Looks like jewelry, yes?

When all goes well, the larvae open up and, for days or weeks, bring beauty and happiness to visitors of the butterfly pavilion in the insectarium.

Now, here's where you come in.  Lloyd Hollett is in the process of writing a book about a few things that are close to his heart: butterflies and the effects they can have on people's spirits.

Lloyd's already got a title, and now he needs some input from people who've had, well, spiritual encounters with butterflies.  We got chatting about this during our tour of his insectarium, its live bee display (fascinating) and, of course, the butterfly pavilion.  Lloyd has met people who believe that when we pass over, sometimes our spirits will attempt to come back, get in touch as it were, through butterflies.  (If you don't buy into this, that's fine, too - but plenty of people do believe that that can be a way for us to manifest ourselves in the lives of those who are missing us so terribly).

Lloyd's book will be called Butterfly Messengers and he's seeking contributions - stories, not money - for it.  You can reach Lloyd by emailing: nfinsectarium@gmail.com.  Let him know where you heard about his book, won't you?  He's a good man with a gentle heart and - who knows - perhaps you or someone you know may have a story that should be shared.

Well, I'm going to sign off for today.  Mike and I got caught up on Saturday, when Rob and I stopped in for dinner with him and Deb and their kids at their cottage up near Peterborough.  We had a great time and there were stories we were going to tell each other but stopped and said, "No!  We have to save this for the show!"  We didn't want you to miss anything.  What a weird life, huh?  Editing our conversations so we don't forget to tell stories on the air to share with everybody?  Ha!

Enjoy this day and do NOT miss tomorrow's show.  A show after a vacation is always just a little wilder than the rest, as Mike, Gord and I are always so glad to be back together.  We hit the ground running with our first break at 5:10 and away we go!  Yep, if a vacation has to end, I'm awfully glad to be returning to them, to you and to a job I just love.  Thanks for making it possible.  Talk to you tomorrow!