Ah, the "Dog Days of Summer" are upon us, and boy, have they been a scorcher – weather-wise, of course! My brain, perpetually pondering the origins of odd phrases, had to know where "the dog days" came from. Turns out, it's not about actual canines lounging by the pool. No, the ancient Greeks and Romans, those clever folks, linked this sweltering period to Sirius, the "Dog Star." Apparently, during roughly late July to late August in the Northern Hemisphere, this bright star in the "Greater Dog" constellation gets all cozy with the sun, rising and setting right alongside it. So, while I'm sweating through my pickleball tournaments, at least I know it's astronomically sanctioned!

Speaking of pickleball, this summer has been a whirlwind of wiffle-ball-induced existential crises. I'm trying to unlearn 60+ years of tennis muscle memory, which, as they say, is like taking two steps forward and then tripping over your own feet and falling one step backward. My June tournament in Guelph was a masterclass in self-sabotage. My partner and I actually won our pool, but then I completely crapped the bed in the medal round. I reverted to my old tennis ways – slamming and banging everything – and missed so many shots it was like I was playing blindfolded. We didn't even make it out of the medal round, and yes, it was all on me. Sigh.

Then came the PWA North York Slam at a place charmingly called "The Dill." This one was slightly better, mainly because I didn't completely lose my mind. But still, I got a bit overexcited, put too much pressure on my partner and myself, and basically needed a metaphorical sock in my mouth to remind me to relax. Miraculously, we still snagged a silver in Men’s Doubles 50+, and I even managed a few wins in Mixed Doubles with a new partner. Perhaps my pickleball brain is finally learning to whisper instead of scream.

July brought a double dose of tournament action. First, I ventured to Four Fathers in Guelph, which sounds like a monastery but is actually a glorious combination brewpub and pickleball club. I played in two "Split Age" events, one under 50 and one over. You don't need to ask which one I was in – my knees answer that question for me. In the men's event, my partner CC and I were on fire, winning our pool. But alas, we met our match in the medal round, losing a rather painful 15-4. The mixed split? That was a disaster. We lost every match, and it wasn't even close. A theme was emerging: I wasn't just losing; I was losing badly, barely scoring any points. My final July tournament in Newmarket, however, offered a glimmer of redemption, as we finished second and took home a silver. Though, in full disclosure, my behavior wasn't exactly stellar. I was a bit unfair to my partner, and my reward was being unceremoniously "dumped" for future events. Deserved it? Probably. Disappointed with the delivery? Absolutely. Oh well, more time for self-reflection (and maybe a break from the madness).

Beyond the pickleball court, my summer also involved a stint at the tennis shop. I bravely volunteered at the retail booth for the NBO tournament. Twelve straight days of standing on my feet, averaging nine hours a day. My reward? Feet that felt like they'd run a marathon in concrete shoes, and enough money to fund my pickleball habit for the next year. Seriously, it was a grind, and I needed a few days just to remember what lying down felt like.

And finally, the food. While there were a few fleeting moments of pizza perfection, the real highlight was a pilgrimage to Sunny's in Kensington Market. This place is so hot right now that getting a reservation is like trying to win the lottery. My original dining partner, Ms. Sheila, had other plans, so I enlisted my trusty backup, Ms. Sarah. Finding Sunny's is an adventure in itself; the address leads you down a dark alley, and you feel like you're about to stumble into a secret society meeting before finding the restaurant door. But oh, was it worth it. Hands down, the best Chinese food I've ever had. We kept it "simple" – Dan Dan Noodles, Orange Chicken, Jasmine Rice, and Miami Beef Short Ribs. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. The Orange Chicken was a revelation. For dessert, Sarah bravely tackled the Blackbird HK French Toast. My advice: go, bring your credit card, and prepare to have your taste buds sing.