It’s 8:30AM on Friday. “Do I have time to take a quick shower?” I asked. “Are you going somewhere?” she replied. “Oh yeah. Right. No, actually.” “What’s wrong with your computer?” “Stuart’s ‘technical support'” “That’s not fair! You let Simon bang on your keyboard. It’s probably That! I keep this house running like a top.” “Freudian slip.” An old photo memory… Jasper

The Energy Star conference was a great success. The awards dinner was a glittering affair in the Imperial Room at the Royal York. This year’s award recipients include Whirlpool Canada, Home Depot and, you guessed it, Project Porchlight. The next day I cut loose a bit during my presentation to the plenary session and let myself talk idealistically about how we’re turning light bulbs into symbols of hope, change, empowerment. I thought, heck, what do I have to lose? The response was a bilzzard of business cards. At least four other major utilities and three provincial conservation authorities want to discuss running Porchlight campaigns. That felt good. Feet under me…

It’s 6:30 AM. I’m in my room on the 7th floor of the Royal York Hotel in Toronto. Suzy and the kids are asleep. The city’s slowly waking. An office tower a stone’s throw out my window is largely empty, even though the lights are on. It’s that hour of the morning where it’s dark enough to see into the building, not light enough to turn the windows all shiny business-like. Everybody’s got one of those newfangled flat-screen monitors. We’re here for the Energy Star national conference. Project Porchlight will receive a Market Transformation Award in a glittering ballroom tonight. Tomorrow I’m scheduled to address the conference on our success.…

The greatest excuse of the early 21st Century is “No, I didn’t get your e-mail. My spam filter must have caught it.” This of course is actually code for “Actually, I wasn’t really interested in your Spiritual Spot of the Day” or “Stop sending me those urgent notes about termites in the mulch.” Really. I don’t have time to read your stuff. I haven’t felt comfortable sharing this until recently, but lately I’ve been busy helping the son of the deposed King of Nigeria with his banking. He wants to invest in Project Porchlight!

“Do you remember when One-hour Photos were new and people couldn’t believe that they could get their pictures done in an hour…” “Uh, actually, I just took them in and got them back in an hour. I could believe it.” “We’ll, sure but maybe it was just in PEI, but there was this radio ad, like ‘Some day my prints shall come.’ You know, like the Snow White song.” “It was Cinderella, idiot.” “Do people still call them prints?” Sunday evening marital chit-chat.

It’s difficult to describe what happens when you give someone a light bulb and they suddenly realize that what they do matters. That small, simple actions add up. That huge, global issues are not insurmountable. You have to experience this to believe it. Put an energy efficient bulb in someone’s hand and explain that screwing it in will save them $50 and cut 100kg of greenhouse gas from the sky. Folks get it. A light goes on. Many people actually smile and say, “I can do that.” And that’s the point. Power. We’ve seen how quickly people get this. Everyone can. Changing a light bulb is a switch that can…

Kaleidoscope Wheel of hope A place to start out from Although it started long ago The world’s work has begun A hoola hoop A human chain To warm our hands and find our way When all the lights go out. A raincoat and a french baret The rolling hills of past mistakes Lie quiet under the cloud And I will long look to the churning sea This call to arms means wrap them around The first person you see. (Dandelions and Bullet Holes) Sarah Harmer

“It” didn’t work out. But it’s not a failure.

Still not sure if It’s going to happen. In fact, by noon today, our Board had called it off after months of volunteer sweat and negotiation. And even after I was sure it was over, I felt fine. That was neat. Maybe I’m finally growing up. Life does not equal Work. I’ve put everything I have into it, and if it doesn’t work, that’s OK. Even though I’ve quit my job and essentially have no family income. OK, maybe I am a little worried. By the end of the day, things looked better for it, but one player still had to make a move. I’ve said this a million times…

Tomorrow morning I find out if what I’ve worked for for nearly a year will start. And the nice thing is, I’m not going to lose sleep over this. I’m OK either way. I’ve done my best.

I quit my job today. Full circle. One of my first jobs in Ottawa as a wee lad of 19 was at a lighting store at the corner of Bank and Catherine. It’s now a Korean grocery store. Despite the fact that I was a dirt poor student, I quit after just one day. In fact, I just didn’t show up on day two, or even go back to collect my one day’s pay ($5/hour). I was too ashamed to tell my boss why I had to leave: I just couldn’t imagine how I could ever stand working with light bulbs all day. Now I’m going to be Executive Director…

Easter. I tossed the choco bunny that was left on my desk at work. Everybody got one, and some foil-wrapped eggs that look like little bunny turds when unwrapped. Yum. The chocobunny was one of those sold in piles at Zellers, with yellow fish-like candy eyes that stare through the transparent bag and cry out, “For God’s sake, don’t eat me!” And upon close inspection, it turned out that my treat was a “chocolatey bunny.” Easter and real chocolate were both missing. Does anyone know what tallow is? Why is it in easter bunnies? Trash! I did end up eating a lot of this crap this weekend, following kids like…

What’s Swiss about Swiss Chalet? The neutral mountainous country that’s the birthplace of the quarter chicken dinner? Why do people like Pamela Anderson? “It’s kind of hypocritical that you’re all for animal rights when you’ve been torturing your own beaver for years.” Courtney Love? Anyone still got a Christmas tree? Dan does. Is it OK for a guy to drive a bike with white-wall tires?

It occurred to me this morning on the bus that politicians all have the same hairdo because they’re all about the same age. You know the ‘do, slightly staticky and parted at the side. Lots of combing. Products don’t work. I’ve been complaining a lot lately about getting old. One of my biggest beefs is losing control of my hair. “It’s changed,” I said to Suzy, “Something’s going wrong.” “You’re almost forty, Stuart,” she replied. “It’s Normal.” So I look like Joe Schmo Liberal going for the hard centre-left vote. Bye-bye “Dare to be Defiant” hair wax. I guess it was just inevitable. Here’s a fun link sent by Mme.…

Grey hair is more coarse than brown. Not quite pubic. Just assertive enough to ruin that youthful windblown look I’ve always wanted. I turned 38 on Sunday. It was fine. Life has been amazing lately, but very stressful. And it’s all self-imposed, which is a stupid thing to do at this age. I took today and yesterday off to celebrate and found myself giddy and excitable at the Wild Oat reading about a new drug that can reverse heart disease. It could have been the double latte. Then I walked through the Glebe Emporium and got strange looks fondling a banana protector (I didn’t know what it was, or how…