At long last, after much anticipation and a month's spare time hard at work, my vacation logs are finally online.

Come and enjoy Tuscany and Portugal, Homeland 2005!

The free agent frenzy in the new NHL is going wild, and I can't seem to keep up with who has gone where. With all the big names going to new cities, the one move - or pair of moves, technically - that stands out and stings to me is the move of Gary Roberts and Joe Nieuwendyk to Florida.

Critics say those two were aged and injury prone, but there are few guys in the league that have a better dressing room presence and the passion to play than those two. Roberts is the perfect player for the Toronto fan; the man oozes heart, grit, and determination, and there's little we cherish more in a player than that. Nieuwendyk is a class act, a leader and mentor for his teammates, and a man that puts team before all else, to the extent of playing with a torn groin to help the team get as far as they did in the last playoffs.

Looking at the salary cap situation rationally, I can't see how Ferguson and the Leafs could have held on to them, but we still cast a disapproving eye for putting the team in this situation knowing what the financial outlook would be.

The result is that we have now lost two of our most cherished, and it saddens me to see them go.

One of the great things about Toronto in the summer is the countless number of festivals that go on throughout the warm months. On Friday, my friends and I went to Taste of the Danforth, where I had three lamb chops, quail, gyros, rosemary pie, and spinach pie. Yum! On Saturday, we enjoyed the Festival of Beer, and we now have fond memories of the many sampled brews, smoked meat, and the girl in the polka-dot dress. Wow.

Yesterday, on the way home from work, I experienced something very amusing, yet at the same time uncomfortable and dangerous: The Mutual Check-Out.

As I was driving through traffic up a busy street, a car passed me on the right, and I noticed it was being driven by a young woman with long straight hair, which naturally caught my eye. She also had the uncanny ability to twirl and play with said hair in that certain way that always turns heads while driving at the same time.

As traffic flow shifted and paused, I was soon able to approach and pass her again. As I did, I of course partook in that ancient driver's hobby: I looked to check her out. This is a highly practiced and much enjoyed activity for several reasons, like the risks of taking one's eys off the road, the embarrassment of getting caught, and the uncertaintly around the chance for the sweet prize of seeing someone really hot, or the disappointment of finding an old hippie picking his nose.

I turned, and before I could celebrate my success in finding someone worthy of magazines (or at least one of those "Girls with Low Self-Esteem" videos), I noticed that she, at exactly the same time, played the same game on me.

We both, at the same, turned away again, unconvincingly pretending that the brief glance was merely a scan of our surroundings for the purpose of safe driving. It's amazing how people feel private in their cars, as if no one can see them. It takes a mutual check-out to give people the sudden shock that yes, we can all see you. I wonder if she had looked at me before. What would she have seen? Likely me swaying and bopping and singing loudly along with the music on my CD player, complete with tapping fingers and embarrassing gestures.

Had she played again the next time her car passed mine, she would have seen me laughing wildly.

This morning, as I drove to the train station en route to work, I heard the most typically Canadian statement ever made on a news audio clip.

Reporter: "Gas prices rise to over a dollar per litre, but are not met with revolution."
John Q. Somebody: "Yeah, it's expensive, but what are you gonna do, eh?"

On the more serious side, the pullout of Israeli settlers from the Gaza strip is in motion. My thoughts: It's about f***ing time. While I think both governments involved should be brought down and rebuilt anew, I consider Israeli occupation of Palestinian lands to be the biggest hypocrisy on the planet. Settlers violently protesting the pullout just shows how similar Israelis and Palestinians are - nay, everybody is - to each other.

While playing in up to four different sports leagues, plus randomly scheduled hockey scrimmages, plus numerous events related to having such a large family, plus paying numerous bills all due on different days, it's a wonder I never used a calendar or day planner. I'm amazed I kept track of what I did, and even more amazed I never bothered to organise it in some sort of coherent way.

Well, I finally caved and got my social and financial life in order. Fortunately, the nice people at Mozilla have provided a handy dandy Calendar that integrates into Firefox and Thunderbird, and prevents me from having to resort to a Microsoft product. Now I will always know when my next hockey game, birthday party, or income tax instalment is due.

Then I went and put the Leafs' schedule in there too. Don't want anything conflicting with those...

What am I doing to myself?

I have willingly and quite foolishly committed myself to playing in four league sports. On Sundays, I will be playing in Etobicoke with the same ball hockey team with which I have been a part for the past three years. On the same day, I am tentatively going to be playing ice hockey in North York for a team that asked me to join, free of charge. On Mondays, I will be rejoining my original beginner ice hockey team in Brampton. On Thursdays, I will be continuing with my indoor soccer team in Etobicoke.

Just to make all of that even more complicated and strenuous, I will be occasionally contributing to our second ball hockey league on Wednesdays, as well as the occasional family and/or friend rink rentals.

I spent a small fortune getting goalie equipment, and I'm bloody well going to make good use of it.

By the start of winter, I'm either going to be incredibly fit, or incredibly injured. Let's hope it's the former. Let's also hope it successfully counters my excessively-unhealthy Oreo habit and weekly Man Night beer-and-snack fests.