Make that, “Your twisting reality.” Sorry, honey, I suck at quoting sources.

Go ahead. Ask me about my fantasies. One involves a bottle of Crisco and a shower curtain liner. Suzy says, “Do you know what that stuff is? Lard!” Story-in-one-sentence: The first day of my first job as a pack boy at 14 at my community grocery/hardware store in rural PEI (cash register with the pull handle, gossiper meat man, etc.) I accidentally dropped a 24 case of glass Crisco bottles down the basement stairs and was sure I’d be fired; the floor’s still stained there.

Suzy says she’s never heard of a vole. “It’s just another example of your twisted sense of reality.”

I read in bed last night that Fish don’t sleep. Night time is just the shadow of the Earth. Cool even at 25C in the shade. Today’s high in PEI was 12C. Colder at Plover Dunes. A bug went into my right eye last week on my bike ride home. That was just before my derailleur wheel broke off and fell down a sewer drain. I think it laid eggs or something, because I can still feel it. Maybe I’ll get a patch. Now that would be cool. Jasper is really concerned about the dehydrated and dismembered wasp body that’s tucked in the crease of the back window in the…

I noticed we had a new driver this morning. No big deal. He said hi and smiled. Minutes later, though, we suddenly pulled off to the side of the Transitway. Our driver was clearly agitated. I heard, “I just can’t do this!” from the front. I set my paper down and scanned the aisles. The bus was full. Another driver pulled up alongside. “What’s wrong?” “I just can’t do this!” he said again. Then the doors opened and everyone ran out onto the side of the road. I was one of the last ones off. Most of the passengers had crammed onto the other bus by the time our new…

I just watched the National, and I’m pissed off. I’d write to them, but I know they don’t care. Tonight, Peter Mansbridge et al. gave “the terrorists” exactly what they want: Hype, baseless speculation, fear mongering. Who are the “terrorists”? The tragedy in London should not be diminished. It’s big news. But running a full newscast that includes segments such as “Are we next?” is just plain lazy, and sensationalist. It makes people afraid. Isn’t that the definition of terrorism? Tonight, linking today’s events to Al Quaeda is just speculation. But that doesn’t seem to matter. The CBC even cancelled a scheduled 10PM airing of The Greatest Canadian — Profile…

I’m a creature of habit and pattern. Only this week, with my kids and wife away, have I noticed this. This morning I overslept, again. And as I raced into the kitchen to wolf down a bowl of yogurt and bran, I noticed three bowls with spoons lined up on the counter, each with a little yogurt and bran dried on the bottom. I slapped the Globe down to skim page one, on top of three days of old news. On the rushed bike ride to work I decided to break the pattern and try a different route. First came the dead end road, then my chain broke. By the…

Elizabeth and Emma are at Walden tonight. They called me from my couch. They’d only been in the place for an hour and they’d already found everything, like the Music for Small Rooms CD, the little pop-up snake toy in the kitchen, the concrete Buddha reclining in the roots of an old maple below the bridge by the spring. It’s wonderful to share such a personal space with friends — especially when they are so obviously pleased. (Aaron, I know you’re reading this). That little piece of land in PEI is tightly woven with stories. Every tree has a history, the spring that bubbles up from the ground at the…

My family is at a cottage this week. Last night was the first in 8 years that I have been alone overnight in my own home. It was wierd. Weird? How do you spell that? I fell asleep on the couch watching The Aviator, and woke up at 12:30 a.m. — drool on my shoulder and contact lenses freeze dried to my eyes — wondering why nobody reminded me to go to bed. You take couple stuff for granted. Thankfully, Dracula spared me a repeat visit, although I woke up a couple of times with the cat on my head. Puddy is lonely too. Work was fine, and I avoided…

Simon has been sick all week. Fever. We think it’s the 3 huge molars that are pushing through his gums. Gotta hurt. It doesn’t help that it’s also hot outside. I made the mistake of wearing jeans today. Panini on a patio on Sparks Street was decidedly unpleasant, aside from sandwich, the company (JD) and the yummy kidney bean side salad. Suzy and I both awoke this morning eager to talk about our intermittent nocturnal nightmares. Intermittent because Simon kept waking up. Nightmarish? You decide. Suzy dreamed she had to pee so badly that she did so in a public place, only to discover mid-squat that a surveillance camera was…

Tooth brushing escalated to a full-blown water fight with Jasper the other night. I just couldn’t resist tossing a cupful of cold water at his belly as he was struggling to pull his t-shirt over his head. I loved his reaction: Utter shock, followed by the most amazing laugh, and then a thirst for revenge. Within minutes the bathroom was soaked. Then Suzy arrived with little Simon. The Monk wanted in. Water flew everywhere, even out in the hall as the theatre of battle expanded. What can you do to top “soaked?” Apparently Suzy thought wet wasn’t good enough. Just as I thought the waterfight was winding down, she dumped…

Lush is a great word. Alcoholic implications aside, it implies air thick with lilac, and long wet grass. I love May and June best of all months, but I also feel I do a lot of jumping around missing things like the peak of the peonies. And that’s not conducive to deep meditative lung breathing or soaking up the dew. And writing in the Blog? As you can see, it falls down the priority list somewhere below plucking the crabgrass from between the walkway tiles. That said, I love writing. I don’t do it enough. It’s one of those things my psychiatrist used to say I should just give to…

The cabin and cottage are open for the season, and another family week in PEI is behind us. It was a great time. We were in swimming, even Simon, and had some delicious seafood treats. I’m a bit tired now, largely because of the work involved in managing two properties in a different province, but also because the transition from PEI to Ottawa always takes a few days. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to spend a longer period of time at either Walden or Plover Dunes, or between them. There’s something more real there, something hard to describe. I guess it could just be the…

The photo at right was taken in late May of 1995. That’s my mom and cousin at the top of my hill here at Walden. They were planting the chestnut tree that Mom and Rod had given me for Christmas in 1994. I’d asked for trees that year because I had just bought the clearcut that would be Walden, and I thought it was my job to reforest it. It was my personal mission. I couldn’t imagine how a piece of land that had been so abused could regenerate and heal on its own. Silly me. Ten years later, I’d like to share some important lessons from the land: 1)…

Jasper’s in his element here at the cabin. He has Megan (7) across the road, 10 acres of trees, a wood stove and no official bedtime. He also has about a dozen black fly bites along his hairline, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s Megan he loves. And she seems to feel the same. It’s wonderful to see two kids having so much fun — running down the long red lane to the brook, tossing stones and occasionally holding hands. Megan’s not too impressed with Jasper’s generous exuberant mooning, his little stick legs and butt bared above sweat pants bunched up over rubber boots. She’s got two years on…