Sugar Shack
So today it was our day to get out of the house, and do some agritourism around southern Ontario. We decided to visit an old fashioned sugaring off, at the same place we visited (and I beleive I blogged about) three or four year ago. Only this time we:
a) had two little boys, and
b) followed the rules.

So the boys were the easy part. We bundle them up, stuff them in the car, and in an effort that requires the logistical coordination of a WWII Dambusting operation, head off down the Queen's Highway.

We arrive much later, and the two boys are sacked out in the back seat. Sam is easy to wake up, and comes to as soon as the engine is turned off. Isaac, we had to wake slowly, with soft gentle admonitions to open his big sleepy blue eyes, and look forward to pancakes, which had been his whole raison d'etre for most of the morning.

Now, with Isaac, he doen't like waking up. Sort of the same way dead people don't. You wake up somebody who's been dead a couple days, and they get all resentful on you,and try and eat your brain. Isaac is not much different, only he cries alot. Alot.

So we get him woken up without any histrionics, and head off to the hay ride to the sugar bush, and their little interpretive thing they do.

Now I should mention, that last time we went, we looked at the hay ride, and it cost about $1 each, and, being cheap, and desirous of fresh air said, "We'll walk." Of course when we got to the interpretive (mock) Native Village, they didn't know what to do with us, but we blufed our way through, and had a good afternoon. We save $2.

This time, we get to the wagon, I have a shiny new toonie in my hand, and the nice Farm boy lookin' guy (Sib, you would have like him, he was totally stunned), said, "You'll need tickets for this, you can buy them over there."

So, Naively I head off to the ticket window, hold out my toonie, only to be told "$17.50 please."
"um." I say. I open and close my mouth a few times. "Do you take interac?"

So we get on the hay ride, and Isaac is quite enjoying himself, and Sam is charming the socks and gloves off of everyone on the wagon, and I turn to Noelle, and break the news.

Both of us start simultaneously calculating what the opportunity cost would have been to walk the two boys the whole way there (about 1km), and we come to the same conclusion at the same time. Money well spent.

So the interpretive displays were nice, if crowded (once again, we forgot it is March break right now). And we head back for pancakes.

We get to the restaurant, and it's closing in about 2 minutes. We are almost too late. Isaac and I hustle into the washroom, and Noelle takes Sam into the rapidly emptying dining room for a f ull charm offensive.

Well, it works, and they let us stay and have some pancakes. And Peameal bacon. And two coffees and a juice. $18.00 later. YOW!

So then, we have to go next door and buy the obligatory bottle of Maple Syrop, because what the hell's the pont of coming all the way out here, and just going back to Costco to pick up the same old same old.

Needless to say, the hosing continued. And we were driving home and saying to ourselves, "It would be really nice to hit an A&W on the way home, but there is absolutely no way we can afford to. That would have put us into three figures for the day, and frankly it wasn't worth it.

So Noelle took one for the team, and made fish and chips when we got home.
But on the way home, we asked Isaac what his favorite part was. Was it seeing the sap running through the lines on it's way to get processed? Was it the big bonfire at the Native Village? Was it the period costumes, or even the maple syrup taffee?

Nope, it was the hayride itself. Mainly, I'm sure, because it was pulled by a John Deere tractor, and when you're a kid, tractors are cool.

Pleasure Ratio
Long time no post. I know. The rules have changed at work (ok, not changed, they're just being enforced now) as to what sites we can go to when, so I'm back to posting only from home. I will try and keep up.

So, I have posted in the past about my back of the envelope calculation for figuring out how much your return on investment is in any enjoyable activity you might engage in.

Simply put, the formula is:
How much you enjoy something (1-10) x the number of minutes you can enjoy it for / how much it costs.

So for me, one of thing I enjoy most, is making dumb noises, and having Isaac do his deep throaty giggle he does. If the noise is creative, it can go on for 10-15 minutes, of sheer, giggling pre-schooler bliss.

So to calculate:
Giggling by (about a 7) x 15 minutes / free = a pleasure ratio of about 105. Pretty good.

Now, I also really enjoy a fine cigar. In fact for me, a fine cigar is a very pleasurable way to kill about half an hour. Now I don't enjoy it as much as Isaac giggling, but it tends to last alot longer.

So a Cigar (about a 6) x. 30 minutes = 180. But then there's the cost. A good cigar can cost upwards ot $10. So 180/10 = a pleasure ration of about 18.

On the the other hand, when I got that amazing deal on those cigars from Nicaragua, they ended up costing me about $1 each. So 180/1 = 180! Simple math. So that's a pretty darn good ROI.

That leads me of course, to Eliot Spitzer.
The guy paid, a reported $4000 for a rendevous with a NYC call girl. Who, while attractive, was really not a 10 to me at all. Of course, he is much older and balder than I am (and my wife is WAY cuter than his - of course the photos during the press conference probably didn't do her much justice), so it's all relative.

$4000.

Now, unless that guy is some kind of God, he's going to get maybe two or three hours tops, out of his investment. And you've got to assume his enjoyment score is going to be a ten, or would it really be worth risking everything for.

So let's do the math
Enjoyment of Kristen a solid 10 x 180 minutes (assume pharmaceutical help)/$4000 = 0.45.

You guessed it. Not even a 1.

So the next time Eliot Spitzer, or Bill Clinton, or Conrad Black, or any of these numbskulls gets some brilliant idea in their heads, they need to do the right thing.

Go make a pre-schooler giggle.