Is 2020 over yet? (Part 1)

The images we were seeing from Australia were both horrifying and heart-breaking. Uncontrolled wildfires were raging across most of the country and firefighters - many volunteering from Canada and elsewhere around the globe - were desperately trying to stem the blood orange tide.

It was like a world on fire.

The devastation to the countryside was terrible but it was what was happening to Australia's unique creatures that was most impacting me. An estimated half a billion animals have been killed in the fires and the iconic Koala's place in Australia's natural order is in jeopardy, with some calling the nation's symbol 'functionally extinct.'

I've been to Australia. I have family living in Australia. I have held a Koala in my arms. These news flashes from the other side of the world were hurting my heart and commanding a lot of my attention as 2019 turned into 2020.

A world on fire.

Considering Trump was trying to start World War 3 and I was facing a series of major crisis in my personal life, commanding my attention was no mean feat, but there we were.

I was barely a week away from major surgery and a week away from leaving my job of the last dozen years, so naturally that, and everything that goes with those life changing events, were front and centre. But I was also contemplating a new adventure, as my big brother Brian was dangling an offer to live and work - rent-free - at a horse farm he and his partner were in negotiations to buy in the Caledon hills.

Australia

The surgery - a full (left) knee replacement - was mere days away, but it wasn't top of mind. No doubt I was burying that for my own mental health, but it was business as usual for me leading up to the date. My work pals sure wanted to talk about it - how they were going to survive without me will be one of life's mysteries I'm guessing - but I took on a 'whatever' attitude and worked right up to the morning of my surgery.

Meanwhile, I obsessed over the pictures of the estate that I was supposed to be working at, putting a serious dent in my data plan in the process. A hundred and sixty beautifully landscaped acres with an 11-bedroom mansion, trout pond, tennis courts and other amenities will do that to a guy, especially when the rent is free (that fact is worth repeating) and the job is 'managerial' in nature.

There was also an upcoming beer trip to Kingston on my mind, with the date falling exactly six weeks after the operation. This six-brewery invasion, complete with party bus and lunch and dinner provided, is being organized by Josh Hayter, Kingston's new favourite citizen, the president of Spearhead Brewing (and a super awesome dude) and I really, really did not want to miss it.

I probably will take a pass, though I expect cash flow will be the culprit, not my health. Never saying never, though, and I was going to see if I could make it work.

So, yeah, a lot on my mind as the new year began, and yet I was still brought back to Australia and those bush fires, especially with stories coming back from Down Under of residents in the potential path of these terrifyingly unpredictable fires who had to water their houses daily to prevent sparks - carried by winds from infernos many miles away -  turning their homes into ash before the flames even reached them. More stories about the animals too, with graphic and tragic images that I couldn't shake from my brain.

I needed a break. I needed a diversion.

Thankfully, I got one. Or three, actually.

I had been hibernating a bit since Christmas but when Jeff messaged me and said we were celebrating Sarah's 30th birthday tonight and to get my ass to Town Brewery I said hell yes, I'll be there.

Sarah being the former manager of both Buster Rhino's and Top Corner, the six-time Best Laugh in Craft Beer winner (unanimous each time), one of my mentors in this beer thing, a full-time nursing student and a personal hero to boot. So a no-brainer.

I figured it would be top-heavy with Top Corner people, but besides Jeff and myself there was just our pal Adam to represent our local. Most of the rest of the table came from Sarah's hockey team, which was made of up everyday heroes, with EMT folks, firefighters and other nursing students.

So while Sarah's friends regaled us with stories of heroism post-game misadventures, I nursed a Fruit Dart (a Sour with lemon & vanilla - tasty!) and a Chase the Stars APA and relaxed for the first time in weeks.

And when the birthday party moved on to the next phase of the evening - roller skating or sky diving or line dancing; I can't remember - I said my goodbyes and headed home with my heart just a little bit happier.

The next day I got a call after work from Candice, telling me she and Marie were hosting a beer share/dinner party and Paul (The Big Peezy) was going to be there. Will I be attending?

Yes, Candice, I will be there.

I managed to find a few beauties in the fridge so as not to go empty-handed, and armed with the knowledge that Paul (who buys beer far faster than any human can drink them) would be bringing a bunch of top shelf brews, took the short drive down Ritson Road to the soiree.

Spending time with good friends is priceless, especially if they provide an awesome charcuterie spread, heavy on the cheeses. Was that smoked gouda? I think it was.

The beer was flowing too, though I was driving home this night - one more day of work before my last weekend pre-surgery - so I skipped a couple of samples and cut back a few others from five ounces to two.

Still, lots of love for my friends and for the beer, which included Kokomo from Fairweather - a Sour IPA with coconut and lime that earned the unanimous descriptive of "fucking delicious" - as well as two from Bellwoods (White Picket Fence and Barn Owl #17), a pair from Sawdust City (Super Juicin' and Blackberry Juicin') and brews from Barncat (Saison Blush) and Burdock (Bu Woo).

The final sample of my night was my first ever from Small Pony of Ottawa, a tasty treasure I found at the LCBO called Mares in a Jam, a Dark Sour aged in oak barrels with raspberries.

Good beer, great company and even better cheese. You couldn't ask for more.

Shannon, Jen, Mary, Matt and Oliver

The next night was Saturday and I had already committed to attending Matt Allot's birthday bash at Manantler - such a social butterfly I am - and I was extra thrilled to be going to this event as a couple of friends I hadn't seen in a while would be there.

Jen, who I hadn't seen since her Jack 'n Jill many months before, and her BFF and my birthday twin Shannon, who hadn't been spotted since she packed up and moved to Ottawa.

(I actually made two stops at Beyond the Pale Brewery - where she is already a star - during last year's 613 Brewery Invasion but couldn't make the connection. No worries - she's here now.)

Jen and Shannon brought their friend Mary, who works in sales at Flying Monkeys in Barrie, so after getting a pint in at the bar we eventually gravitated to the barrel room, where there was beer on a table just asking to be sampled, as well as barrels with 'Do Not Touch' written on them just waiting to be ... not touched.

Which became a source of amusement for my friends, especially after Oliver, who had just left 5 Paddles Brewing in search of new adventure the day before, came in with Megan and was horrified to see the ladies posing for pics in front of the barrels and those forbidding signs.

Oliver was promised no barrels were touched during the making of the instagram posts, we all had a good laugh and another beer and then Matt, the Global Ambassador for Super Cool Brewery Owners, walked in and hired Oliver on the spot.

Just kidding. Oliver's got a new gig uptown. He's doing all right.

A little later in the evening I found myself outside in a circle of about 20 of Bowmanville's coolest cats and their friends ... discussing world politics or some-such, and that was pretty cool too, as was Matt gifting me a bottle from his first barrel-aged series, a Russian Imperial Stout that had been aged in Buffalo Trace bourbon barrels for 15 months and then bottle conditioned for a few more.

Such a prince, our Matt.

And such a great vibe all night long.

The Champ

The news from Australia was getting more positive as well. There were still fires burning but the rains had begun to fall and firefighters were finally gaining control. From pictures of kangaroos dancing in the rain (they were probably fighting but I don't want to ruin a good narrative) to stories of heroic wombats sharing their burrows with other animals, the new images from Down Under were of the hopeful variety and I couldn't be happier.

And then I found myself lying on an operating bed with an anesthesiologist sticking a big needle into the small of my back while I counted at least five nurses and one guy hiding in the corner trying his best not to be seen.

It was just before the drugs kicked in when Dr. Osinga, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Family Guy's Peter Griffin, came striding into the room whilst rapping out a routine at full volume from The Champ, the Jake Edwards punch-drunk boxer bit from Q107's history vault:

"I said Pardon?

Wait, what?

I head-fake him with a copy of Moby Dick and the idiot goes for it.
A flipper to the jaw, a hook to the mouth and he's gasping for air like a fish out of water.
I said, 'how's that pal? Is that enough, 'I'd like to see ..."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

I may or may not have heard his last line before I entered dreamland...

"Ever since then I've been The Champ."