Walden Cabin

I got sunshine on a cloudy day

2008-05-03T10:15:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I get serious here. So I'll spare you the mouse update except to say that the thing that was clogging the drain in the wash basin this weekend wasn't lint.

As I write I'm listening to Ideas on CBC Radio. Tonight's program features Ray Kurzweil, an inventor and futurist being called "the rightful heir to Thomas Edison." So of course my ears perked up. I do a lot of Edison bashing.

What got my attention was his confident assertion that solar power will supply all of humanity's energy needs in 20 years. It's the first time in months I've heard a positive perspective on the future. I'd like to have a more positive view of the future.

Occasionally when I speak to groups about Porchlight I share an anecdote about a conversation I had with Jasper one night as I was tucking him in to bed. He asked me why I spent so much time talking to people about light bulbs. It was late and I was tired, and I remember snapping back something like, "I'm trying to save the planet."

I don't remember how he reacted. But it was a kind of slap in my own face, a reminder that I was trying to do something meaningful. And so when I reflect on this during events or in media interviews, I can say that even if changing bulbs seems insignificant, I know that in 20 years when my kids ask me "What did You do to change things, Dad?" I will have an answer. I tried.

Now tonight I'm thinking that the question might be, "Dad, why were you so worried?"

And we'd have a good laugh about the bulbs. And open another cold one in the clean, cool woods of central PEI. Safe.

Royal Blue

2008-05-03T09:52:00.004-04:00

Here's a tip:

Never try to take an organic wild blueberry spelt crust pie home on your electric bike. First of all, it's not worth the $9. And chances are the young woman in tie-dye with dreds behind the counter will give you a used grocery bag with holes (when you ask sheepishly for that unholy item to take home your righteous tart).

I'm enjoying my bread-free journey to a healthier me, but there are some things that will never change: blueberry is unkind to library books lulu lemon sweats. And bikes and pies don't mix.

Spare us this day, our daily bread

2008-04-23T21:54:00.002-04:00

Suzy's in the pre-week of the Raw Diet. Meaning, she is cutting back on certain things like meat and processed stuff. The idea is to eat better and lose weight.

I've never had a problem with girth; if anything, I shy away from shorts because of my "chicken legs" (as my sister used to call them). I'm heavier now that I've ever been, but that's 157lb. I was a svelte 145 when I got married (in 1999). But I've been feeling kinda blah lately, so I thought I would join Suzy's journey by giving up something, to see what happens. I decided to give up beer and bread.

Beer makes me grouchy. I Love the stuff, but after just one I get a bit sleepy and irritable, which is bad for someone who's already, well, kinda intense. (One of the few benefits of advancing age is self-awareness). Besides, I prefer wine, especially red. And the indulgence has a rationale; red wine is "good for the heart." Which is great because even with a tight waistline, my cholesterol is high. A doctor told me at age 22 to stop eating eggs, saying I'd have a heart attack by 40 if I didn't. I didn't. And 40 was so last month.

Giving up beer. Easy.

But I'm a bread-aholic. I'm thinking about it Right Now. Because the reason for giving up bread is to reduce wheat intake, and Wheat's In Everything. No more granola breakfast. No more chewy snack bars or cookies or pita or tuna on whole grain at lunch. No more nacho chips with salsa or kaiser rolls. No more pasta.

Life without bread is hard. I need help. I almost caved tonight when I ordered pepperoni pizza for the boys -- it's Jasper's birthday tomorrow and avoiding the Duncan Heinz will be a new threshold of discipline.

It's been three days, and it's a good thing I'm taking a few days off this week. I needed to sleep this afternoon. The spinach salad with beets at lunch just didn't do it for me. And yesterday's experiment with microwaved green beans with salt for breakfast was not repeated today. I need a coach!

And maybe a tailor. I'm also running again. 5k today, the third time in a week. It feels great, but the energy's got to come from somewhere, and there's not a lot of excess me to burn. Which makes my wife burn; three days in and I'm down three lb.

Maybe I'll get my six-pack back. On my gut, anyway.

Simplify, simplify.

2008-04-20T22:17:00.003-04:00

It's harder than it sounds.

When I bought the 10-acre clearcut in 1994, I just wanted some land. Then I thought I would just build a little shack to "get out of the rain." Then I consulted an architect. And buried power lines underground. And added a clawfoot tub. Then an outdoor shower. This year it's screening in the porch and adding LED outdoor lights.

What does Simplify really mean? Life without convenience sucks. But discipline and hardship are essential to happiness. I really believe that. So where's the balance? These days I long to spend time in the woods. The first few days I'm at Walden among my trees I revisit old friends: The tiny birch twigs donated by colleagues for the '95 replanting, now requiring trimming and thinning, 30' tall. The Norway Maple my grandparents donated that now dominates the driveway and is on fire, red in the fall. I love that tree. Every time I visit I stand among them in awe. At times people who pop by (or my wife) ask me if I'm ok because they find me standing alone and still in the woods.

Despite all my busy-ness and plans, and frenzy, I really think that I could be quite content with a simple life there, observing. Writing. But maybe I should try it for more than just a few days. In fact, I will this summer. A month at Walden.

The thing about the woods is it doesn't wait to be figured out. It keeps changing. So every visit is an introduction as well as a return.

Write it on my stone. Stuart loved his trees.

It's taken me a year of moving and shoving to get rid of a third of the junk in my house in Ottawa. This shocks and saddens me. Why did I have that stuff in the first place? Why do I want to shed Even More?

And why do I think I would be happy on a hill in the woods watching trees grow? What kind of life would that be? And why in my heart do I believe that my children would be stronger and happier adults if 10 acres of mixed woodland were the only clutter in their life?

The thing is, I will probably never know.

Miles to go

2008-04-20T15:57:00.003-04:00

I've decided to take three days off this week. Wed-Friday. Since this option occurred to me this morning, I've been positively giddy. Now I can do stuff that's fallen behind, way behind. Here's a quick list:

- Sort socks. I just keep buying more when I need clean pairs. The result is two laundry basket-fuls of almost-matching black socks. The worst part is that the kind that is most numerous also includes several with a hole in the toe that is only visible when you put them on. Trial and error and trial again!
- Fix the toilet. We have two at home. Due to a leak in the tank of the one on the ground floor (inside the ceramic is stamped Oct 1966), we have had to flush with a bucket of water - Since November.
- Rake. I bought the last rake for sale in Ottawa yesterday. Canadian Tire and Walmart were sold out and I nabbed the last one at Home Depot. Seriously.
- Fix this blog.
- Rent the cottage and cabin. Know of anyone who wants a nice rental place in PEI? Please pass the word.
- Run. I just did my third 5k run in 10 days and I feel great. Suzy says I'm going to injure myself, but I feel like a million bucks at about 4k, so I gotta keep going there.

- Find the power cable for this laptop. It's about to die, again, so I'd better log off. Besides, the compost needs turning and it's been a while and it's still sunny out so I'd better go.

It's recover balance week at Walden. Stay tuned for more updates.

Stuart

PS - Mark, I'm waiting for the cabin pics. $5US is in the mail if you send 'em!

Sunday night's all right

2008-04-13T21:30:00.004-04:00

I'm happier when I write here. It's weird.

So I'm going to try to do it more. 'cause I want to be happy. or -ier. Or is it more happy. Frack.

Today I swept out the carport shed. Lots of mouse turd. Puddy sniffed at me with greater attention when I came in. Gross. Jasper and I went to Zellers last night and stocked up on Sens hats and shirts in anticipation of tomorrow night's game (we have nosebleed seats). Baseball hats with hockey logos. After we got home and all tried on the hats Suzy told me Maria from Simon's daycare called to report lice. Nice. So between the mouse ass and the lice head it's been a Day for obsessive compulsive types. Doesn't explain why my arms are feeling itchy.

After baths tonight I heard a clicking noise upstairs. Then Suzy came running down. She'd seen a "rice-sized thing" on Simon's head. Thankfully it turned out to be a toenail. No nits yet, nitwit.

Simon helped me all day. We cleaned out the basement (two station-wagon loads of stuff we weren't using went to Salvation Army, including two large bags of kids books -- more than one person could carry at once.) It's hard to give up "Love You Forever," but when you have three copies ... And Suzy yanked Maisy's Colours from the bag. That's what we used to read to Jasper for his "let's read a book" when we were really, really tired.

One

Word

Per

Page.

Blue!

After ten loads of laundry and more cleaning, Simon and I played soccer in the carport -- now wonderfully empty save for a pile of stuff en route out. He had me doing Mario moves, a cross between the Running Man and the macarena, when I got a goal past the Little Monk. It took me a minute but apparently "Mario moves" comes from Wii. And if you don't know what that means, just fuhgettaboutit.

Jasper was at a friend's house this afternoon. When he got home I had supper ready and was looking somewhat harried, heading out for a run, when he said,

"Dad, just go out and get drunk. Take it easy." I actually thought, well, my kid told me to, so... But then I ran my lung scorching 3k and came home to chicken and wild rice. And no lice.

Green!

And so ends my most Boring blog post ever.

Close but not quite

2008-03-30T14:21:00.003-04:00

It's time to refocus. I've been quite preoccupied by the Project over the past two years. And now it's time to restore some balance. The tipping point was just reached today when it occurred to me that just last week I'd come within 10km of Walden (the real, original one) in MA, and it didn't occur to me to exit the I90 for a look-see. I'd rented a car for the 2-hour trip between Springfield and Boston and I just drove right by Concord at 70MPH singing along at the top of my lungs to 80s tunes to sap the stress.

For years I've been looking forward to a chance to visit the original source of Thoreau's transcendentalist philosophy, the place that inspired my own cabin in the woods. And yet I just drove by. It seriously didn't cross my mind that I was even close. I have totally lost touch.

It's time to exit the freeway for a while and take the back roads a bit. The snow is melting at my Walden and this summer I'm gonna go Simplify a bit.

3 ft from happy

2008-03-29T12:44:00.004-04:00

It's sunny today. The snow has dropped by about 18", enough now to reveal the top of the forsythia bushes on the south side of the house. We can see the Christmas lights again from the road. The back yard is another matter; I'm sure there's a patio set out there. I'm kind of hoping someone's stolen it.

Funk.

I should go outside, but I feel greasy and unmotivated. I'm taking vitamin D when I should be sitting in the sun. The chairs are buried. Usually when I feel this way I cheer myself up by getting rid of stuff. There's also a toilet to fix. I could do that.

Simon and I are going for a swim, and then there's a show by The Acorn tonight at the Blacksheep Inn. The good news is I know I will feel better soon, as soon as I can get outside. Like, after turning off this laptop.

* Mouse update:

I forgot to mention in my last post that when Suzy screamed for me to come up stairs to save her from the mouse she yelled, "Bring the trap!" as if all I would have to do is put the little Victor on the ground and the varmint would run right to it. It was like the time she called me at work to demand I come home because a sparrow had flown into the house. Jasper still has a bear called Hero, given to him later that day by Suzy because he solved the crisis by opening the front door.

Simple actions matter. I'll be happier once I stand up and stretch in the sunlight.

Bye!

Squish

2008-03-25T21:27:00.004-04:00

I killed a mouse with a broom tonight. Was on the phone wishing happy birthday to my grandmother in PEI, who turns 95 this week, when Suzy wailed from up stairs. Gram was raised in rural PEI on a farm in a tiny community called Pleasant Valley. Now she plays Internet Scrabble. She's sharp as a tack, but I was alarmed to learn from her just tonight that she'd spent 3 days in hospital earlier this month "because my heart was fluttering and the nitro didn't help." Since Dad died, I get most of my Hickox news from Mark in New England.

So I had to let Gram go. "Gram, I have to go kill a mouse in my bedroom."

"Oh, dear. I thought I heard Suzy scream. Is she all right?"

"Yes, but she's probably on the bed." (she was, with the boys).

So I went up stairs, chased the mouse into the hall (out of sight of my wee men) and beat the living daylights out of it. I broke the broom in the process. Then I picked the mouse up like one would a sidewalk doggie do, in a Bob the Builder towel that we'd tossed in the Sally Ann bag. Then I and wiped up the blood. One mouse gone. Collateral damage: Broom.

We have electric lights now. My sons' great grandmother is on-line. But we still have mice in our homes. Strangely comforting, that.

... I hear something in the walls ...

Rebirth

2008-03-22T21:02:00.003-04:00

I think my favourite Easter was spent in Jerusalem, 1995. I'd just spent 3 months wandering alone through Turkey, Syria, Lebanon and Jordan and ended up in the Holy City on Palm Sunday. The next week was religious chaos. I participated in the procession of the stations of the cross through the old city and at one point was lifted off my feet by the crush of the moving crowd through the narrow streets. It was exhilarating and terrifying. They say you can't go to Jerusalem and not have a religious experience. It's true. I was already susceptible, and was swept away.

My least favourite Easter was in hospital in Toronto when Suzy's water broke 4 months early and our boys were born on Easter Monday. The world all around was marking the resurrection. We had death. But it was also a beautiful day. I knew I would be OK when I walked out of the hospital that night and noticed one star in the Toronto sky. It was still there. I felt it at the time, but am more confident saying it out loud now: Holding my own child as he died was one of the best things that could have happened to me. I learned stuff that day that would have probably taken decades otherwise. And I'm just glad there was something in me that let me participate fully in that moment. I really believe it was something I learned at another Easter years before and a world away. Life's complicated. And dirty.

Sometimes it just sweeps you off your feet.

I can't get no

2008-02-10T21:09:00.000-05:00

This weekend I heard somewhere something I've been thinking about a lot.

You can aim for a happy life or a meaningful life, but you can't have both. They are exclusive. People who are happy live in the moment, appreciate what's right here and now, and don't dwell on the past or fear the future. People who aim to live a meaningful life, on the other hand, seek to understand the past and are concerned about the future.

Is it true?

It might explain why people who meditate - who really meditate, not just dabble - don't have blogs. And why SUVs often have fat drivers. I'd like to be a slim, self-aware hybrid SUV driver. But it's still wrong somehow. Maybe I should stop thinking about it.

No more talk needed

2008-02-03T19:59:00.000-05:00

I had a blue weekend.

Just this week I remarked to someone that 2007 was the first year in maybe ten that I didn't have a bit of an emotional ebb in November. I said I thought it was the daily vitamin D pill I've been taking for 6 months. A miracle! But yesterday I felt like I should rebook my old shrink Hammy. We spent almost 3 years together (once a week) earlier this decade after a pummelling of three family deaths, and 5 years before vitamin D made the cover of Time. How could a little white pill the size of a pencil lead give me a normal November?

Three years with Hammy was all talk. Good stuff. He never offered me drugs. Sometimes I wished I'd had them. A guy who builds a cabin on a clearcut in a province 1400km away can't hide his escapist tendancies. But I've never been good with drugs. I once lost my luggage in a laundromat in Amsterdam after smoking up below decks on a scuzzy Botel bobbing offshore. I was 19. It was legal. And the laundry was still in the washing machine when I managed to retrace my steps the next morning. Those were the days!

At almost 40 I can honestly say that the happiest days of my life were those when I had the least stuff. Three months in the Middle East with one change of clothes. A park bench and one candle in the new cabin. A micro-preemie in an almost empty house.

So then today I was skating on the canal with my kids, contemplating therapy, when a family friend joined us. She was in town from Victoria. My mother-in-law's age. A nice lady with no time, but a better attitude. Theresa was diagnosed with terminal cancer a year ago, and is in Ottawa to skate on the canal because it's on her list of things to do before, well, death.

And it was a sunny day. The ice was fantastic.
Simon finally skated away from me on his own.
And I stopped feeling sorry for myself.

I hereby resolve that

2008-01-01T13:18:00.000-05:00

Last year at this time I resolved to write more cards to people. Like, snail mail. That lasted about a week, ending abruptly when I realized I don't know how much a stamp costs (and I still don't know). And, ironically, 2007 was the year I spent the least amount of time in touch with close friends and family. Facebook was new, but it didn't really help. So this year I'm renewing the old resolution with a twist: Instead of more Facebook, I pledge to spend more face time with people I care about. I'm sure it will make for a happier new year, and there's no postage required.

In with the new

2007-12-30T21:20:00.000-05:00

I was sweeping the car port today, for the first time ever in January, when I thought, "God, I'm turning into one of those obsessive compulsive types..." Then I thought, 'It's too late.'

The thing is, I love getting rid of stuff. It's become an obsession. And it occurred to me today when I was sweeping that what I really want to be in 2008 is the guy who has the most and the least. The exciting thing is, it's totally within my grasp. The happiest times in my life have been those when I had the least stuff: 1) at the cabin when it was just built, 2) in the Middle East for 3 months with one change of clothes in the desert, 3) a year of study in Nice, France only able to afford to eat baguettes every day.

I will be 40 this year. Actually, in less than 3 months. People ask me if I'm concerned, like there's something I could do about it. I've thought about it a lot, mostly because I do have grey hair now, and I've noticed a wee double chin that I'm determined to zap through running and (maybe) less beer in the New Year (yeah, right). The nice thing about turning 40 is you no longer have to worry about ending up being a failure (unless you are one already). And since I made some good choices in my 20s I can reasonably expect to retire comfortably in about 15 years. Which just seems weird. Stop working? Why would I? I'm lucky because my work is actually fun (something I'm grateful for as the old year ends). And, well, I seriously don't feel any different than did when I was 25. I love that. I do a kick-ass head-stand, and today I ran 4k on a whim and didn't break a sweat.

But when I was 25 I was worried about being successful and able to retire by 55. Stupid.

What wisdom can I offer as I hit 40?

- Watch out. Stuart Hickox has nothing to prove to anyone.
- H.D. Thoreau was a genius even without wireless.
- Less is more.

It's liberating to get rid of the junk. You are not your old fitted sheets. Throw. Them. Out. And have a happy new year.

Behold, I bring you glad tidings

2007-12-16T23:43:00.000-05:00

At 1AM this morning I was doing a very bad karaoke duet of Macho Man with my colleague Suzanne at The Navy Club on Victoria Island. It was the Porchlight Christmas Party. Seven hours later I was pinning a Palestinian head scarf onto my seven year old as he scrambled to the stage in the inn keeper chorus during the annual Christmas pageant at Rideau Park United Church. Simon joined him later as a wee shepherd among the 30-odd kids who were part of the program (including two to made up a lumbering camel). It was an awesome concert. Simon's line was "Wow, angels!"

Today was my happiest day of 2007. Even though I'd hit the sack at 2AM, I was up at 5:45 looking for little socks and pants for my pageant pals. The snowstorm complicated things a bit, but we made it to the church on time.

Sitting there in the stiff fourth row pews winking at Jasper on stage my heart swelled so much with pride and love that I was afraid I'd create a scene when my chest burst right open. And I nearly lost it in tears during "Away in a Manger" in the second verse at "...bless all the dear children in Thy tender care, and fit us for heaven to be with Thee there." Because, see, I've bawled in that church before. But that was a sad time. And it's a long way from that day to seeing my little Jasper in a head scarf and sash, smiling confidently on stage.

But I kept my composure. I'm macho.

Snug

2007-12-10T10:09:00.000-05:00

It's cold in PEI. -20C last night, which makes it about as cold as it gets here. The taps are left dripping a bit, and the bales of straw are doing the trick. The water's still on. And this means I get to soak in my claw foot tub in the bath house, a quick run in bath robe and slippers through the snowbanks from the cabin. It's worth the exposure. Jasper and I are nestled in.

My wife gets home from a fruitful evening of shopping.

2007-12-05T22:47:00.000-05:00

"Isn't it incredible?" she said, "Two of the passions of my life in one."

Cheese spreaders with snow-globe handles. It's good to be loved.

Countdown to Mini Christmas

2007-12-04T23:02:00.000-05:00

Two days to go. The kids can hardly sleep. In 48 hours I should be damping down the wood stove for the night, carrying some sweaty kids into the loft for a deep Walden snooze under a snow-covered skylight. (The stove quickly turns the little winter cabin into a hothouse).

We'll be tired. Tonight Mom and Rod called from Summerside to report that PEI was socked in today with 30 cm of snow. That means that my little driveway that snakes through the maples from the road past the spring to the cabin will be drifted over. I'm bringing snow shoes for Jasper and we'll pick up a cheap sled with the groceries in Charlottetown after we arrive. I'm buying snow pants tomorrow. Mom and Rod reported that they'd slipped up to the cabin just yesterday as the snow began to fly, to cut a small spruce and some pine boughs for the weekend's festivities. I get my love of the woods from my mother.

"Oh, Stuart, it was beautiful. Magical up there. The snow was fluttering down and the spring was running fast like a brook. The cabin is all nicely banked up with hay and is just waiting. Your Christmas lights are on."

Christmas lights? Someone must have forgotten to turn off the outdoor lights when we left in August. Oops. That'd be me. Good thing they're SLEDs.

I'm almost 40 years old, which makes me about half way through if I'm lucky. And I keep a little cabin in the woods at great expense 1400km away from where I live. It makes little economic sense to do this. It's a pain in the butt to manage and maintain.

But I Love it. Love Love Love. My Walden is a place of wonder and I'm no more thankful for the rest of my busy life than I am when there and can see things in perspective. Perspective is something I often lack. But it doesn't keep me up at night.

The old tungsten glow

2007-12-03T20:21:00.000-05:00

It's the holiday season again. People who know me know that I'm most in the Christmas Spirit in November. It wanes as December 25 approaches. Might have something to do with the pressure or shopping, overeating, darkness. It's three weeks to Christmas Eve and there's too much snow on the bushes to put up the lights and I've only bought a few gifts. At the risk of destroying my credibility as an environmentalist, I'm thinking seriously of having an "Old Fashioned Christmas" by replacing some CFLs with 60-watters. We can all gather around the warm yellowy glow of yesteryear as we read the revised report from the IPCC. Comfort and Joy?

I'm just back from Porchlight bulb launch events in Alberta (8 were held there this weekend). Suzy was there the week before last. We haven't really seen each other since Hallowe'en. We both need a holiday. So we're dragging the kids to PEI Thursday for Mini Christmas. Friday we spend with the Hickoxes; Grandma is 95 (?) yet still plays internet scrabble, and Jasper loves making popcorn gumdrop trees with Aunt Marg, little piles of popcorn stuck together with melted marshmallow gooiness. Then Saturday we have a full faux-Christmas day with Mom and Rod and Val with the new twins and Darcy (2) and Gram Weale (89 and also healthiest among us). We open stockings and exchange gifts and have a big turkey dinner and pretend the rest of the world is nuts for not celebrating that day like The day. Then Sunday back at Walden we welcome the MacPhees (Alan and Myrtle and their four kids) over to select and cut their tree from our 10 acre woods. We'll drag it to the cabin, have hot chocolate and then trim it at their farm across the road. Myrtle always puts on an amazing spread, usually with a big roast of beef that's extra tasty because it was raised over the summer in the field just up the hill.

(Yikes, I'm sounding like Stewart MacLean here. eek)

So yeah, we've got time coming to us. We need it. A little Old Fashioned will be fine. I'm looking forward to a soak in the bath house claw foot tub and hours by the wood stove with the kids. Jasper and Simon love the cabin. But it's cold this year, and we've already had burst pipes. Alan and our neighbour Donald have banked the cabin with hay bales and are keeping an eye on things. Eileen our caretaker is dropping in tomorrow to sweep up the wayward flies and fluff up the pillows in the loft beneath the skylight. She usually also leaves an armload of dry split hardwood. My axe is dull.

Folks are working hard to make sure Suzy and I have a good little Mini Christmas. What better gift could a guy ask for? I'm tempted to call myself Blessed. But that's kinda old fashioned and old fashioned is not officially my thing. Screw it.

Home.Work.

2007-11-27T21:54:00.001-05:00

Suzy's been away since Friday morning, in Calgary helping out with the Alberta campaign. I took the opportunity to throw stuff out. I found an entire box of curtains in the linen closet, taken down last from our apartment on James St. in 1999. The box also included the stars and moons shower curtain that Suzy used to have in her Powell Ave apartment. That was before we moved in together in 1997.

I was shocked to find this stuff. Right there on the shelf of the linen closet, in plain view. Taking. Up. Space.

Shock subsided to glee. I Love getting rid of stuff I'm not using. It's my new obsession.

This is also the second week in a row that I've fired someone at work. That's only partly related, and a totally separate blog post.

The front hall of the house is piled with stuff that I will drop off at Neighbourhood Services en route to work tomorrow, hours before Suzy gets home. The weird thing is, aside from writing about it here, she's unlikely to notice the missing stuff. Which means I have more work to do.

Simplify. Simplify.

Exit poll

2007-10-10T22:12:00.000-04:00

We were driving with Jasper and Simon, not sure where, when Jasper suddenly piped up, "Mom, Dad, are you voting for Dalton McGuinty?"

Jasper's seven. He can read. And there are signs all over our riding. The Premier lives about 3 blocks from us.

"What do you think we should do?" we asked.

Jasper didn't hesitate.

"I hate Dalton McGuinty. He raised my taxes."

Jasper watches a lot of hockey on TV. And John Tory has good ads (if not good advisors).

Soft onions stuffed in the cavity

2007-10-08T22:44:00.000-04:00

I'm really proud of my headstands. I'm damn good at them.

I also enjoy fire - just about anywhere. I used to set the backyard ablaze in PEI, back when all the neighbours had two-acre yards that had been converted from potato fields. We lost more tree seedlings to wildfires! Nowadays I'd love to have a backyard fire here in Ottawa, but it's subject to bylaws and is officially known as a "controlled burn" - and you need a permit. ( sigh ) I fear that Jasper will never experience the searing joy of beating a line of grassfire back with an aluminum spade.

This weekend I discovered that cranberry sauce is easy to make. Why would anyone buy canned cranberry sauce, when organic fresh cranberries are everywhere and all you do is boil equal parts cranberry, brown sugar and water in a sauce pan until they pop. Then add orange rind to taste. Great on toast.

And another thing: If you snip the skin of a chicken to stuff in the fresh rosemary and garlic, close the hole (to prevent the breast from drying) by sticking the rosemary stalk through both sides of the cut and twist the branch to close. It even looks good.

Suzy said she'd read somewhere this weekend that modern turkeys are nothing like what we ate even 30 years ago. They're bred quickly and are less gamey now. In other words, fat and bland with little dark meat. Did you notice that? So little dark meat! And even if you do dig it, it doesn't really taste different anymore.

It's been an interesting weekend. Last night someone said she thought Nicholas Cage was cool. I said, "But what about that whole Lisa Marie Presley thing?" I really feel that was poor judgment.

"Well, really," went the reply, "wouldn't you marry her if you had the chance, just for the novelty?" No. She may be Elvis' kid, but she'd been with Michael Jackson by then. ew

New frontiers

2007-10-05T21:57:00.001-04:00

I tried to take some time off today. But the chair at the Wild Oat was stiff and my latte sour and, well, it was too hot for October 5. I'm no fan of Ottawa winter, but a little crisp fall air would be nice. I needed some air. So I walked. Right into a sex shop.

Venus Envy is on Lisgar Street, a one-way turn off Bank right downtown, just across from the Bible Shop. Seriously. The good folks at Venus Envy describe themselves online as an "educational erotic shop," which is probably just another way of saying, "No, we don't sell raunchy porn and our carpet doesn't smell." Not that I would know anything about that. The building was bright and open; it used to be a laundromat. Tonight I discovered that my sister-in-law was chased out of there (when it was just tumbling dryers and rinse cycles - not vibrators) for stuffing too many pairs of jeans into a front loader. Bad girl.

I entered self-consciously and tried to avoid eye-contact.

Now, readers who know me well know that I like a little playful fun, as long as it's safe. And I mean the exploratory kind. With clothes on. Except that time in Damascus in the Hammam. Thank God that guy only used a loofah. What I mean is, a moment after I walked into Venus Envy, I knew that I had no reason to be uncomfortable. After all, why would the kindly staff be embarrassed to talk to me about stuff they were there to sell? So what if I still call vibrators "dildos" and am shocked at the sticker price of greaseless lube? To minimize the titilation factor, I decided to imagine pickles and egg plant and spicy sauce; not - well, you know. So when a perky female clerk came over to me, smiling, to see if she could help, I asked some questions. And it was kinda fun. Like a holiday.

It turns out that appearances in sex toys are deceiving. That sparkly latex ring with the star-like knobs all around it is more stretchy than it looks. It can go around and under. The bullet-like silver thingie attached with a little snap uses two tiny batteries and buzzes almost silently. Apparently that's "for her." Then those wand-like ones are bent like that to reach the male g-spot. So we talked about that. And how. And why. It all seemed like a lot of work compared to the selection of ribbed latex sleeves in the section just to the right. Those were pretty straight-forward, if you know what I mean and can excuse the pun. I think my new sex clerk friend cased me out in a sec, and figured that a 39-year-old guy that had not paid attention to the leather section or the firefighter calendars still had territory to explore.

She was right. And I'll let you know how it goes. Maybe.

I've never inhaled

2007-10-03T20:10:00.001-04:00

A friend called this week. She said, "Is that a new kid in the background?" We hadn't spoken for about 5 years. Yet we picked up where we'd left off. We laughed and talked about life and, well, stuff. We used to do this two nights/week at Cedar's in Charlottetown, a little lebanese place just up from Province House in PEI. Back then on Fridays and Saturdays I'd get off work at Maclean's grocery smelling like leaded gas ($3/hour pumping and packing in a one-cashier country store) and drive to town to meet Tara. We'd drink coffee and smoke Benson and Hedges menthol and eat pita sandwiches with orange cheese, bright yellow mustard and thick-cut wedge fries. One weekend we spent an entire night speculating about where we'd be "far into the future" in the year 2000. This was 1984. We hadn't tried the shish taouk by then. Seems a shame now. Garlic butter rocks. The management was surprisingly lenient back then; we sat there nibbling $4 sandwiches with fries and slamming back the bottomless cuppa for hours. They'd kick us out at close at 1 and we'd cruise around with the windows open yelling at people and speeding off.

Twenty seven years later, amid all the madness and rush it's nice to be reminded of simpler times pre-internet, pre-Porchlight... Cedar's is still there. It's an institution; I'd start a Facebook Group, but it just doesn't feel right somehow. It's almost unchanged. They serve coffee in the same indestructible mugs, and there's nowhere else I'll smoke a menthol.

Claire

2007-10-02T22:08:00.000-04:00

The nice thing about writing here, now, is that this site has been dead for months, so I can pretty well say what I want without consequence (or being read).

I have a thing for Claire Martin. And today she's wearing a Ms. Strombolopolous t-shirt. That's just not right. Suzy knows all this, including the weird (and innocent) obsession. She sent me a link a few months ago with "bye bye" as the subject line, when Claire announced she was moving to Vancouver. Suzy hadn't read all the way to the end of the CBC announcement, so I was pleased to see Claire would be back on air this fall doing the weather at the end of the National. They've gotta do something about the temp on since, a guy who seriously needs suit advice.

I'd write more, but nobody's reading this, and I'm just warming up.