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…

I’ve ranted about this here before, so I’ll keep this short: This time of year it’s easy to get frustrated by things, like cold feet, cracked knuckles, imminent environmental collapse. Last month I went with my friends Mike Perry and Elizabeth Harvey (find them on Lavalife) to Mike’s hometown — Fenelon Falls, Ontario. A local hardware store had donated 50 compact fluorescent bulbs to our Project Porchlight campaign. We are motivated by the fact that if every household in Canada replaced one light bulb with a compact fluorescent, the reduction in pollution would be like taking 66,000 cars off the roads. So, how many Canadians does it take to change…

Don’t try to shake the V8 after you open it. Deep breathing in meetings makes people suspicious. Avoid contact with small animals on cold outdoor rinks.

It’s still cold in Ottawa. But you already knew that. In other news, Suzy is using a Swiffer wet jet behind me. That guy got rich. I wish I’d been in the room to see the circumstances surrounding the moment of revelation when Mr. Swiffer realized that floors could be cleaned with a squirt and a sanitary napkin. The cold was mitigated muchly yesterday by my friend Mohammad’s birthday party. He’s now 33, just back from two weeks of touring Europe alone, and on his way next month to Cuba to visit a girlfriend he met there in December. He’s happy. You may recall that Suzy and I met Mohammad…

Here’s a challenge: What’s the One thing you absolutely have to do before you die? It’s easy to pick the obvious things, like “see the Pyramids” or “have a family.” But what do you really Have to do? I never would have thought this before, but one thing I had to do was experience death up close. When I held my son as he died 5 years ago, it changed me forever. And that night I walked out of the hospital and saw one star in the Toronto sky. Light reaching my eye after millions of years of travelling through space — raining on my grief. I knew then that…

New Christmas Album. Flashback Video: Ten years ago Walden was a clearcut and I wore goofy hats. (Waldencabin.com disappeared today, which figures — I’ve been writing more regularly.) This morning I had this great story ready to write about Llubjana, capital of Slovenia. It’s a tiny, unappreciated capital city of an underestimated country just across the Adriatic Sea from indulgent and overexposed Italy. Venice is a short train and boat ride away. It’s like the New Brunswick coast to PEI. What prompted this was eating a Balkan yogurt that Suzy bought specially for me thinking my mind and bowels would benefit. I don’t eat enough for breakfast and, after a…

It’s -40C today. I want to go to Mauritius more than ever. As I was running out the door this morning, my wife yelled “Only an idiot would go out without a hat today!” Passive aggressive much? So I pulled up my hood. Now I’m looking for a toque on-line but I have to find out how to spell it first. Good thing I’m “Director of Writing” at gordongroup. Now I know why my colleagues do the little quotation mark action with their fingers when they introduce me at meetings. So now I’m warm at work, and I found a great Toque and a good laugh. Among the headlines today…