When did beanbag chairs last have beans in them? Did they ever. They don’t now. Last night my 14-year-old nephew popped mine by leaping onto it from the trampoline in my basement. Just imagine. He then rolled and slammed into the closet door, giving it a nice bowed look. Sweet. Aside from the crash, I knew something was wrong when my six-year-old son came running up stairs covered with what looked like the fake snow used for shooting the indoor scenes of It’s a Wonderful Life. Beanbag chairs are now full of tiny styrofoam pellets. Smaller than pellets, actually. They’re like little fleas. Try brushing them off. It doesn’t work.…

I liked this. Not sure why.

It’s Robbie Burns Day. I made the mistake tonight of telling Jasper over beers at a local pub that Burns is the guy who burned the Parliament Buildings in London. We were at a Robbie Burns dinner. There was haggis and kneeps, and Suzy’s dad piped. And I had the wrong crazy Brit. Haggis. “Sheep’s ‘pluck’ (heart, liver and lungs), minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally boiled in the animal’s stomach for approximately an hour.” It looks like a big tumour and tastes like cork. It’s a little better after they douse it in single malt. But just a little. Suzy and I…

I’ve thought of my former shrink Hammy (Hamilton) a few times today. At least once I thought I caught him out of the corner of my eye, trailing me. But it wasn’t him. I haven’t seen him for 3 years, since he dismissed me in early 2004 after two years of chatting and digging and relearning. I was never medicated, or even officially “depressed.” I would have welcomed pills, but he didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. Which was smart. I was just sad after multiple losses and way overworked. Now I’m overworked and blue. Maybe Hammy sightings are just guilt manifestations. Today I feel like the benefit of all…

The new Apple iPhone is out ( drooling ). The landfills are gonna be full of Blackberries. What a waste. Anyway, I just can’t see myself typing with my thumbs. If I have to learn a new way to communicate, I’d rather perfect my French. Some of our Porchlight staff were “texting” about our project. Apparently there was a real bzz about the blb prjct. Now before I run out drop $500 on an iPhone this summer, I have a plan. I want to write more cards and letters by hand. I used to do this all the time. When I went to university in France (1987!) I used to…

Sharon Workman is a network producer at CBC radio here in Ottawa. We met last year when I called to confess that I’d kept a CBC digital recorder another producer had let me borrow a year earlier to record sounds of the mines and miner’s bands in Wales (the piece was never produced because I was lazy and distracted). Sharon asked me to tell her about my story idea. Then we met to discuss it. And now she’s encouraging me to pitch it to Ideas. She’d be the producer. It’s a big leap for me. Ideas is an awesome hour-long documentary show. And I’m still constantly distracted. I don’t want…

Today I dropped by the Vrtucar office on MacLaren Street. It’s where I landed with Suzanne Boileau after my spectacular fall from my Director of Writing job at gordongroup last spring. I say “fall” because I’d quit that job to run Porchlight and then Porchlight fell apart. We’d already hired Suzanne as Operations Manager for the campaign (which was suddenly cancelled) so we kept her on to help put the plan back together. Don’t let anyone tell you that Humpty can’t be reassembled. We worked for the summer together in a 10′ x 10′ room. I found a 1999 Dell laptop used on-line and Suzanne brought her own computer. She…

I’ll be 39 this year. It’s no big deal, really. Get over turning 30, Dan, ya pup. This age affords two key advantages: I can still learn, and I’m willing to admit when I’m wrong. For instance: It was only today, in Loblaws, that I realized that mincemeat has no meat in it. All those years at Grammie’s Boxing Day Christmas party I thought ground beef was going bad on the table all day while my uncles picked at guitars and mandolins. The music wasn’t great, but I should have noticed: Nobody died. I used to really hate that annual Christmas party. This year I really missed it. Quitting’s great.…