My little brother turns 31 tomorrow. Happy Birthday Lowell! For those of you who have not seen his video debut, check out Sunglasses at Night, and then see a pic of his new baby boy – Ryan Thomas (who is 4 months old this week, I think). Lowell survived as the youngest sibling in our house, despite being run over by me on my mini-bike (a Honda Trail 70 — I’m taking up a collection) and even though my sister Valerie and I used to say “Cow Brains!” to make him puke up his breakfast every day after Mom left for work, just before we caught Bus 93 to school.…

Something neat in Ottawa. I’m a fan of free-standing rocks. (Just ignore the Blog code at the top. I’m not sure why it’s there, and I hope it just goes away. If someone knows someone who can redesign/reorganize this site, please let me know.)

(Overheard in bed) “Anytime I’ve let a spider escape in the house, it has appeared on or near me later somewhere else in the house.” “Why would you let a spider escape, except if you just can’t reach it?” “Compassion.” “Loser.” “My cousin was a robot at Hallowe’en once. I felt so bad for him when it rained and the box fell apart.” “Unh-huh.” “Did I ever tell you about the time Mom agreed to give me 25 cents to buy some Bubble Yum but she made me eat an entire raw onion first?”

“Thank God, I’m no longer a blonde.” Darlene turned from the mirror and swooshed her waist-length (and now carrot-red) mane — all in one dramatic motion. Apparently, this hairdresser was only a blonde for a week, hated it, and opted for something new. I was afraid to ask what her natural colour was – in case she couldn’t remember. As she stood by the mirror in her low-rider jeans and tank top, warming herself with a hair dryer this snowy Ottawa day, I thought: True, blonde would be a disadvantage for you. Thankfully, she doesn’t cut my hair. I was in Zahia’s shop on Clarence for my usual clip. Zahia’s…

Save the Children USA has a new campaign of banner ads on Web sites. They say: “Act. Give. Learn. Shop. Make a Difference.” Shop?

Sometimes I question my work. I love my job, but it’s a grey Irish-mist kind of day that reminds me of Istanbul in late January or Jerusalem in March — and so memories of relatively carefree times clash with my present. This morning I spent 2 hours in a departmental meeting trying to help a major government client figure out how to write a report on plans and priorities without including any details or plans. Then there’s another client who works in the department that governs HR and employee relations. He procrastinated for so long in the production of his annual report that he yelled at our secretary yesterday. Gee,…

You know how I feel about Christmas lights in February. Jo-Anne, it doesn’t matter if you call them “winter lights!” It may seem like a good idea at the time, but don’t try standing up while sliding down a hill on a crazy carpet. Avoid wasabi during business lunches. And lentil purée if you have yoga that evening. My houseplants are dying. Working out of the house takes its grim toll. To get rid of aphids, take a shallow bowl and add a squirt of dish soap to some warm water. Not hot. Stick your fingers in like Madge and froth it up. Cover the little buggers with the bubbles…

I got up early this morning, tense about a presentation to CBC today. I have to speak to CBC’s “international role — how it is the voice of Canada abroad.” So I started thinking about the time I was in Syria, travelling alone near the border of Iraq. I was in a smoke shop, reading and taking deep puffs of nargileh (it’s the thing to do – that and play backgammon — and I don’t know how). A man invited me to his house. He seemed nice. We rode on his motorbike into the night. I was scared shitless, thinking I’d made a big mistake. But it all worked out.…

Elizabeth! Regular Walden reader! I’m so proud of you for being quoted on the front page of the Globe and Mail today. But really, stop wasting your time on the Conservatives. It’s so easy, being Green.

From the archives… Beat the winter blahs.

I hate “gay pride.” And especially that stupid parade. Celebrating your homosexuality seems to me like wanting to whoop it up because you have big feet. So you’re born like that. Who cares? Yet I understand that gays parade to confront long-entrenched views, many of which I too was raised to believe. PEI in the 1970s-80s was a very homophobic place; my dad thought people who carried umbrella’s were fags. And if you had an earring – well! Hell fire!! My Dad’s cousin was the first PEI AIDS case, in 1987. I remember certain family members boycotting his funeral because he was “a shame on the family.” So I hate…

Iraqi elections are over. How can you not be impressed by people lining up to vote in the face of death threats! Yeah for democracy! Since Bush was elected, the Iraqi people are more free, and Americans less so. From the “What’s Next” department: Yoga Journal magazine reports in the current issue that the ubiquitous yoga sticky mat, all the rage for years among enthusiasts, is now known to cause cancer because the PVC material leaks formaldehyde and other toxins. Contemplate that next time you’re in Downward Facing Dog. The same issue of the magazine includes ads for sport utility vehicles. I learned this week that “fornication” (here’s another definition…

I want to live in a country where I don’t have to wear rubber things on my shoes, and where I have to explain things like slush and wind chill. So after last night’s post about the frozen toes, my wife bought me boots. Thanks, Honey.

Yesterday I had a great lunch at sunny Juniper Kitchen and Wine Bar on Wellington Street in Westboro. It was a relaxed client lunch with Anne from Health Canada. Over a Parmesan crusted portabello mushroom stack with pesto, we discussed writing diabetes info for Aboriginal communities. Anne lives in a beautiful house in Wakefield, about 20 minutes north of Ottawa in Gatineau Park. Makes me drool. She says her son recently agreed to use their boat to deliver groceries up and down the Gatineau River from the general store in the village. Wakefield has great charm, including a cool inn/pub — the Black Sheep Inn — and a steam train…

There’s Hope in the air this morning, that is, if “hope” implies an end to suffering. The sun is brilliant, and it’s only -20C. Freakin’ balmy. Meanwhile, in Mauritius today it’s 28C (above zero) and the temperature of the aquamarine sea that licks its sandy shores is a bathlike 22C. Some links from friends: 1) Zachary Houle send these suggestions for mid-winter reads: “Hello, I’m Special: How Individuality Became The New Conformity” by Hal Niedviecki. Non-fiction. Not for Ayn Rand fans. (or people who write blogs, apparently). “The Safety of Objects” by A.M. Holmes. Short stories. Really odd, twisted short stories about suburbia life. Opening story is about a bored…