Erin's Journals

Hey there – welcome to the Friday of this sweet August long weekend! I’m so glad you came by.
 
Now, as I told you yesterday, Rob and I were out dancing and singing and having the time of our lives at the kickoff of Jeff Lynne’s short ELO tour. He hits Toronto on August 18th at the Scotiabank (formerly ACC) Arena, if you want to try to get tickets for his only Canadian stop.
 
Since we were out late last night, I decided not to try to rush a journal for today. But I promise it’ll be worth the wait. So what I’ve done is go back to one that I often think about (and hear about): our most unusual way to prepare corn during this sweet season of beautiful bounty.
 
There are photos and a description, but I promise if you try it, you won’t be disappointed. On a hot day, it sure helps out in the kitchen and the mess of silk and husks is greatly reduced as well, since the cob just slides right out. But I’ll let this “greatest hits” journal tell the story.
 
In the meantime, have a wonderful weekend. Enjoy every moment – whether it’s exciting or just catching your breath – I’ll have more for you here on Tuesday, and there will be stories from (hopefully) the Napa Valley and, of course, Alcatraz! Bucket list items galore here.
 
Thank you so much for being here with me every day. 
 
Oh, and enjoy that corn! Here’s a link to the journal. 
 

Ah, well…at least it was a beautiful day to be sitting outdoors. Sunshine, 20C and we enjoyed every second of it. The weather, that is.
 
After a 12-minute walk to the North Berkeley BART station from our hotel in this university town, our trip to the ballpark took about 35 minutes. We had opted to stay outside Oakland and San Francisco, as it allowed us easy transit to the ballgame yesterday and to tonight’s concert.
 
I couldn’t resist taking this man’s picture when I saw him on the train. With Rob’s encouragement, I got up and went to talk to him.
 

 
Turns out Robert is an usher at A’s games and I think, judging by that moustache, maybe a big Catfish Hunter fan, too! He was lovely.
 
We got there an hour early, in time for us to watch the grounds crew hose down the field…
 

 
…the Jays take some pre-game stretches and do some other exercises….
 

 
…and to catch up a bit with Sportsnet radio’s play-by-play and call-in host Mike Wilner. He saw I’d tagged him in a tweet and arranged to come down to our seats to say hello before the game began. I’m a big fan of Mike and it was really good of him to take the time to come and visit.
 

 
Now, here’s something that happened at the game that I’ve never experienced: a safety announcement. We were told, section by section, what our evacuation route was. In our case, we were to go back into the Coliseum and go through to Gate C to exit to the outdoors. I’m sorry, but if the “big one” hits and I’m 8 rows from the field, you’d better man that wall, because I’m going onto the field. I don’t care if the Jays are executing a triple play, move over Morales, ’cause this gal’s getting into open space.
 
Of course, the only disaster that happened yesterday was an 8-3 loss at the hands of the A’s, completing the sweep as the Jays head into Seattle. We followed one group of Jays fans to our gate; they’d driven down from Alberta.
 

 
The midday crowd was sparse (peppered by about 800 children on Camp Day, which was fun to be a part of) and talk about phoning it in: after having anthem singers on Monday and Tuesday nights, they just played an instrumental version of “O Canada” and a recording of a men’s a capella rendering of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Gee, the least they could have done was have the kids sing, or put on a PA announcement asking if there was an anthem singer in the house. I totally would have done it (for a Randal Grichuk hug)!
 

 
The run-down area in which the Oakland Alameda County Coliseum is situated, which is also where the NFL’s Raiders play, has all of the charm of a country dump (without the hope of getting free stuff when you leave). You get off the train and traverse a long walkway over what really does look like an industrial waste site (I’m sure it’s not), but it had all of the same sad ambience.
 
Then you get to the tired, faded, drab olive green stadium where once gold and green flags that have bleached to a peach colour fly in the outfield breezes. Yes, the grass looks great and there are two high-def screens, but oh, this place needs a makeover – or a take-under.
 
By comparison, there’s a lot of concrete and not a whole lot of old time charm to the Rogers Centre, but if team spirit and support at home (and away, for that matter) made for wins, Jays fans would guarantee at least a wild card spot every season. We sat among several Jays fans but our cheers didn’t help and the team just couldn’t come from behind all game long. Social media rumblings had yesterday as Gibby’s last game as Jays’ manager; as you read this today, you’ll know if it’s true. 
 
Down 7-0, we left in the 7th and got on the BART to go home. So goes another “away” game for Erin and Rob. Counting last year’s two wins out of three in Seattle, we’ve now seen them win as visiting team twice out of…let’s see, Boston, Cleveland, Seattle and Oakland…six games. Sorry guys; I’m about as lucky as a rabbit’s foot on the Titanic captain’s key chain.
 
I can’t say we were disappointed: our hopes weren’t too high, given the fact that our DL is about as long as the actual players’ roster. Sigh. There’s always next year (or the year after, once they finish tearing down and building up).
 
Tonight – it’s off to the concert. I don’t know what tomorrow’s journal will be, as we’ll be getting in pretty late, but come on back and find out. Maybe we’ll both be surprised!
 

Boy, does that sum up our lives in the big picture, and summer in the smaller one!
 
Here we are in August, the lush, eighth month of the year, when the corn is high, the sun is warm and the impending back-to-everything of September is still a glorious 31 days away. We wait all year for these sweet and succulent months, fantasizing about how we’ll spend them. For Rob and me, August is a month of adventure. And it began yesterday with my arrival at San Francisco International airport.
 

  
We’ve been to the City by the Bay but I’ve not flown in here before. My flight to San Francisco was smooth and uneventful – just how I like them. I sat next to a guy who didn’t do anything but grunt when I pointed out things like the wildfires below. Oh, well. To each his own.
 

 
We’ve checked into our hotel in Berkeley (outside Oakland and San Francisco) and are ready for our adventures to begin. Today, we’ll see the Blue Jays play the Oakland A’s, and then tomorrow it’s the ELO concert.
 
Funnily enough, I thought that this pleasure trip might be peppered with a little work: a voice audition we submitted last week had in its notes that a potential narrator for some US commercials would have to have one of two technical connections that we do not have and would therefore be rendered ineligible, OR be in San Francisco this week to go into the studio!
 
Well, we crossed our fingers and sent the audition, but over 100 other applicants had done the same. Ah well, it was fun to think that this trip might have an added, unexpected monetary component! Nothing like helping to pay for a trip while you’re on it!
 
My United flight had an interesting ending: I got to see another plane landing on a parallel runway. 
 

 
The weather in San Francisco and Oakland is pleasant and cool; I landed to about 17C and sunshine and the forecast is calling for more of the same during our time here. Last time we were here you could barely see the Golden Gate Bridge, arguably the most famous structure in the city. They say that the best time to see it is in September when the fog rolls out and we’ll have to take their word for it; for now, we’re happy just to see blue skies. Here’s our view as we headed into downtown San Francisco.
 

 
Traffic at 4pm was slow (just as we expected) but we enjoyed just sitting with the top down even if we were in congestion. We got to our Holiday Inn at around 5 pm and I wasn’t up for too much excitement, but that’s okay – we had nothing booked until tomorrow.
 

 
In the meantime, I was glad to get here in a calm state of mind and be greeted by my “chauffeur.” I hope you can read the little sign he made up so I could have a laugh when I stepped off the escalator!
 

 
Rob had a smooth trip down over three days, despite having to make a few detours from his planned route and ash on the car yesterday morning due to California fires. Inconvenience doesn’t matter much in the big scheme of things. Have a great day and I’ll be back with you here tomorrow with pics from what we hope will be a great day at the ballpark! Take care.
 

Where did July go? It’s just the sweetest month and although it’s been a rainy one in the east, at home in Victoria, the days have been long, sunny and a comfortable 25-28C. We sure have nothing to complain about.
 
When I posted a sunrise picture from our bedroom a week ago, someone asked on Facebook “Why would you leave?” and that’s a question that is always worth asking. Here it is, in case you missed it.
 

 
Sometimes coming home and (eventually) unpacking a suitcase just makes you more grateful; other times, it’s clear that if you’re going to pursue a dream, you simply have to pick up and go. Life, as we know, is short and sometimes you don’t get a second chance. Especially when it’s a bucket list item.
 
When I was a teen, I would dance my butt off (quite literally; I lost track of how many times I’d choose a thinner notch in my kilt waist buckle after coming home from school and dancing for an hour to Saturday Night Fever or the FM station out of the US). One of the bands I couldn’t get enough of was ELO: The Electric Light Orchestra.
 
From songs like “Turn to Stone” and “Roll Over Beethoven,” they always had a beat, orchestration and production that was unmatched by anyone else. I’ve loved Jeff Lynne forever. But since I was a mere teen when he and ELO were touring, I had no chance to get to the big city (from where we lived in Brighton, Ontario) to see them.
 
The passage of time, Jeff’s work on myriad other projects (including working on Beatles’ later releases like “Free as a Bird” and “Real Love” and as a Traveling Wilbury) made it seem impossible that he’d ever take to a stage to perform ELO’s hits again.
 
So, imagine my excitement when I learned several months ago that he was embarking on a limited eight-city tour! That soon turned to disappointment when we saw that the only Canadian stop he was making was Toronto. No Vancouver. Not even nearby Seattle! So we made the decision to buy tickets and see ELO in Oakland, California.
 
Rob and I had long wanted to take a drive along the California highway that runs beside the ocean. From BC all the way to the Golden State, we had visions of top down, wind in our hair and sights we’d never forget. This concert provided the perfect opportunity! Just for laughs, we checked to see where the Blue Jays are these days and, lo and behold, there they are in Oakland that same week! So we’re going to see Jeff Lynne, the Blue Jays and Alcatraz all on the same little road trip.
 
As we did in the case of the US southwest driving trip we took in early June, Rob is driving down in three days, while I’m flying in a few days later (today). All going well, he’ll meet me this afternoon in San Francisco and our adventure together will truly begin.
 
I plan to post pictures and stories again and hope you’ll come along for the ride. Take care and talk to you here in August – or tomorrow – whichever comes first!
 

Welcome in! I hope you had a terrific weekend and if you did try those mini Capreses that I shared Friday, post a pic on FB, won’t you? I hope you had great success.
 
I mentioned to you on Friday that we’re on the road again and I’ll explain more here tomorrow. But first, there’s a story I didn’t share with you earlier this month when I shared tales and pictures of our drive from Nevada to Arizona, Utah, Idaho and Montana. It’s a tale of sheer panic and it’s set in an airport.
 
I’d given myself 90 minutes to get from the Victoria-Seattle flight to my connecting trip to Las Vegas, where Rob was to meet me after having made the drive (and ferry trip) from our home near Victoria, BC. You’d think with all the air miles I’ve accumulated over years of flying as a kid with my folks, on my own as a teen to Alberta to spend summers with my grandparents, and the pleasure and work trips that came in the decades that followed, I’d feel pretty “at home” in an airport.
 
Well, no: without Rob at my side to calm me and lead me to where I need to get, I just feel lost most of the time. And I have an innate talent of going exactly in the opposite direction to where I should be. 
 
It didn’t help that there wasn’t a ramp ready for us after a 30-minute flight to Seattle; apparently one was broken and due to construction or some other reason, we had to wait for a full half hour for a chance to off load the airplane. Then there was a shuttle bus taking us to the terminal; that added another 10-15 minutes. By the time we got inside, I was shaken to see a very long single line for passengers transferring to the US.
 
Because I have a Nexus card, I’m usually fortunate to skip long lines and just sail through. But not this time. A fellow traveller, a man coming in from Nashville, told me that there was a different line for “trusted travelers” of which I thought I was one. So, at a sprint, we headed off on a kilometre-long trek to get to what I hoped was a checkpoint that I could speed through.
 
We took a shuttle train to the proper terminal and then made our way through the busy airport to get to security. On our way to it, we passed a huge Disney World-worthy snaking line of people waiting to get through a different checkpoint. I said a silent “thanks” that I wasn’t going to have to be in that awful mess.
 
Out of breath and by now quite frantic over possibly missing my flight, set to leave in one hour, I showed the security agent my boarding pass. But there was no sign of me being approved in advance. Something had gone wrong in this new world of increased screening and, nope, I was going to have to go back to that endless lineup. Actually, it did have an end: someone was standing by an escalator several hundred feet from the actual queue holding up a sign saying “End of Line.” That’s sure how it felt for me, too. I called Rob and said I wasn’t going to make the flight and that I’d keep him posted.
 
I stood in that line, constantly checking my watch and waiting for any signs that we were making progress. Yes, we were moving, but at an impossibly slow pace. Eventually I made it to the security check. I had no luggage (Rob had the packed suitcases with him as he drove to Nevada) and I was asked a few times about that. 
 
I ran to my gate and sat, awaiting word on our Delta flight’s fate. We were past boarding time by then, but still all of the seats at our gate were full! It turns out that luck was in my favour and the flight was having a similar difficulty to that which faced my earlier incoming plane: a shortage of ramps and gates at which to park. (An $830 million expansion appears to be the cause of all of this, including the initial difficulties with long lines and a shuttle from one terminal to another that was also in the midst of a construction zone.)
 
Finally, we boarded our flight to Vegas. But if I thought my travel troubles were over that day, I was wrong. When I got to the terminal, I just followed a flight crew and got onto a shuttle connecting to a different arrivals area. I had told Rob I’d meet him in the arrivals parking lot; I was to call him when I landed and he’d pull up and get me. Or at least that was the plan.
 
Rob had gone to the terminal at which Delta lands; I’d instinctively headed to the place where we had landed on Canadian flights in the past. So I stood there in the 38C heat, trying again and again to call Rob. No answer.
 
After about six attempts, he picked up. Apparently he was in an area with poor cell reception – at a different terminal! Yes, I’d said I’d be where I was the time before when he caught the shuttle to a rental car agency while I scooped up our luggage and then stayed at the airport to be picked up. But Rob assumed I’d be in the parking area of the terminal at which I landed. I think I probably should have been. But it was just the icing on a slice of really lousy travel cake that day.
 
My next US flight, I’ve left two hours to connect. I’m going to make sure my boarding pass says exactly what I think it says. After all, I don’t want that whole debacle to have occurred with no lessons learned! And fortunately, a bad luck day at two airports certainly did not foretell my fortune once I got seated at a favourite video poker machine (as I told you here two weeks ago).
 
Here’s to smoother travels and the things we have to experience to make sure we do it right the next time! Tomorrow, I’ll be doing it again with a smoother outcome – I hope!