I’ve discovered snowboarding. Yes, at 34 years old. I had to borrow my wife’s purple snowpants, but it was still fun. No one laughed (in my face). The beginner’s class at the local ski hill was packed with middle-aged cool wannabes like me – some in better shape than others. Our 12-year-old instructor instilled great confidence as we took the quad lift to the top of the hill. I was almost creamed by a snowplowing toddler, and then I smacked into this cute blond Australian girl. But after a half-hour of instruction, I hit my stride, and had a great time! At one point I caught myself humming Beach Boys…

It’s New Years Eve 2002, and time to get back to work. This morning the insanity of the season hit me full force while sweeping up needles (again) and singing Julian Lennon’s Valotte. (‘Thinking of a reason, well it’s really not very hard … to love you even though, you nearly lost my heart …“) I was snapped out of my descent to 80s reverie by my toddler yelling, “Daddy, that’s HORRIBLE!” Suzy then suggested that I escape to a music shop to cash in a CD gift certificate. I thought of Julian Lennon’s Greatest Hits, but we agreed it would have only a couple of tracks on it. Still,…

The Tim Horton’s chain calls them Seasonal Figures. The Gingerbread Man, neutered for the 21st Century. At Zellers you can buy gingerbread women cutouts, little tin shapes differing from their traditional male counterparts only by the above-the-knee dress. Which cookies you bake may say a lot about who wears the pants in your house. My reaction to outrage at seeing individual seasonal figures for sale at up to $4 each led me to attempt to bake gingerbread folks in quantity at home. What could be more fun for a dad and son to do on a Sunday before Christmas? Turns out, lots of things. Here are some tips for those…

Suzy and I were determined to be prepared for Christmas this year. Even Alex came over to help. We made 2lb of delicious chocolate covered almonds — see the Martha Stewart recipe. Roasted blanched almonds, cooked in cinnamon and sugar and then coated with semi-sweet chocolate. It ended up more like chocolate almond chunks for us because we were not willing to manually separate hundreds of little almonds. Now that they’re all gone, five days before Christmas, we’ve decided to make another batch Sunday for our friends and guests.

There was a moment of silence before the door closed and the clock started. Squeeky soles in the hall on the way in stoked memories of days of deeper sadness. The winter shoes. The woman each week, in tears on the way out, frames despair like a wall in a dark room. Perspective. Today, treats, and revelation. We really should relish the Holiday that includes biting off the ginger bread head — the peppermint buttons rolling on the tongue. And maybe take note of the madness defined as speeding over the limit past the Buddhist Monastery, on the way to the mall. Om. Vroom. Oh, Holy Night. Oh, what a…

Orion is high in the sky tonight, bright despite the streetlights. Seeing The Warrior stalk the winter sky always reminds me of the first time I marvelled at his soft underbelly, milky nebulae among the stars, visible even with Grandpa’s old binoculars. That first night was silent, except for crickets, and gentle too; a sweet dew-soaked grassiness hung heavily in the August air. Those were simple times at the cabin, slower. There was no urgency aside from eager anticipation as Orion crested the horizon that night.

Picture a Monarch butterfly: Orangy rust with those eye-like dots on the wings that leave fine dust in the hand. Up close it just looks like a beetle with a good tailor. Nobody gets excited (in a positive way) about roaches, but the Monarch! Without those wings, it would look as common as the Queen, minus the gloves, entourage, and attitude, at Loblaws. Ordinary. I was telling Jasper at bedtime tonight about how these butterflies fly from Canada to Mexico, and back, each year. Thumb and index fingers were wings showing the awkward fluttery dance. It’s tough to imagine, but these tiny creatures fly thousands of miles like this. Nobody…

Odd signs or just hypervigilance? Yesterday at a busy deli downtown, the cashier gave me my change and handed me an extra 75 cents by accident. He had closed the register drawer by then, so he just shrugged and said “close enough”. Last week I was getting a newspaper from a box by a bus stop. A woman in front of me slipped in her coins, took her paper, then turned to me with the news box door ajar and said “Go ahead. Take one”. Everyone knows when you put in your change you can take as many papers as you want, but nobody does, right? It occurred to me…

Recent studies have concluded that the Canada’s health care system needs an annual infusion of between three and five billion dollars to ensure universal, high-quality care. The debate is raging: Where to find this money? In a country as rich as Canada, the answer is simple: We can have the world’s best public health care system if it becomes a priority for the public. High-quality, universally accessible health care can be funded by redirecting existing resources. Consider the following simple calculation. Statistics Canada and Leger Marketing have recently reported that (in 2000) 58% Canadians used cell phones. If there is one phone for every two users, and the average monthly…

When is the right time to put up the Christmas tree? I’ve seen some up already, and I think it’s just wrong. The Christmas tree should not become as normal as furniture, and besides, what about those needles. Even with daily watering, the healthiest Nova Scotia spruce will be crapping all over the carpet by New Years. You’re sure to still be vacuuming that up in July. I’m a two-week tree guy. Up on the 15th, down by January 1. I commented to Suzy tonight that I like to have just a few holiday decorations still around to greet the new year because by then the relief from the Christmas…

I think Jane Siberry is depressed. Her concert at the National Arts Centre on Saturday night was flat — a lot of introspective monologue, tinkling piano, and little energy. “The … cocoon … is … white … (waving hands near head as if to discourage a persistent fly) … oh, yes … it is … “ What? She set the theme for the evening by recounting a lunch conversation between friends. “You sense it’s a bad time, and darker days are ahead, and yet you seek truth. Why are you there? Why can’t I see the mountains through you?” Geez. The room swayed with rolling eyes. I last saw Jane…