The flight to Whitehorse was uneventful, but it seemed over before it began. Air Canada told me at 7:30 this morning in Ottawa that I was on stand by on the first leg of the journey. I said, “No. I’m not.” It worked. But the indignant check-in clerk punished me by jamming me into a centre seat. Try reading the Saturday Globe and Mail with your elbows on your belly. Vancouver was sunny and 8C. I felt like busting out of the airport to run in the green grass. On the short hop to Whitehorse I met a Tlingket First Nations woman who runs a film company in Teslin, Yukon,…

The campaign couldn’t be more successful right now. And life is sweet. But I’m a realist. Some have said ‘pessimist,’ but that shows a lack of understanding of me. I think. But how can I expect other people to understand me when it’s only dawning on me at 38 that what I might have once described as sadness or a tendency toward depression is just awareness. I’m going to die. So are you. So all these accolades and all this success is just great, but it’s not everything. It’s why, I think, I love my cabin so much. It’s small and simple and not necessarily appropriate (1200 km from where…

Gord Downie is a cool guy. Or so Suzy says, anyway. I was picking up the kids while she was at the Tragically Hip sound check party with speechless fan Dan to get a photo of the band with our Porchlight bulb. We’re in good company now. I hear the show was good too. The madness continues. This weekend we launched the 10,000-bulb Guelph campaign in a blinding snowstorm. 80 people showed up and 1000 bulbs were delivered. It was -25C. Next week we launch the 40,000-bulb Thunder Bay campaign. It’s -40C there today. And next Tuesday we kick off Porchlight Yukon with 10,000 bulbs in Whitehorse where it’s a…

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.…

Yesterday I felt like jumping off a bridge (But I’m OK. Please don’t call the ROH). When I told Suzy about this she said rather matter-of-factly, “You always get sad at Christmas.” This was like being told, “You’re fat!” I kinda knew. It was hard to hear. But it’s true. For some reason, I get all weird this time of year. So there it is. Feeling Blue is powerful. It doesn’t matter how good the news is: Porchlight was about as successful as it could have been. I have new eyes. My kids are healthy. I just spent the weekend at Tremblant. In sum, I’ve got a great life. And…

Note to renters: To keep the pipes from freezing overnight, leave the taps on just a bit. It just doesn’t feel right, but water drawn from a well and drained to septic isn’t waste, just filtration. The tinkle in the catch of the drain can be annoying in the wee hours from the loft bunk. Just remember, people in the city pay big bucks for water features. Charlottetown MP Shawn Murphy’s office called me today at work. I was hoping it was about Porchlight. And fearing it was about my Hunter River micro-hydro rant (below). Turns out I’m invited to the MP’s Parliament Hill Islander Brunch this week. 21 years…

I loved the e-mail from the guy who said he was inspired to cut a Christmas tree down in Sweden because of this web site (even though it’s illegal to do so there). This reminded me of my neighbour the philosopher prof who, upon learning about Project Porchlight, advised me that if my dream of changing a bulb in every house in Canada came true, I would have to live with the unintended and inevitable consequences: “Stuart. Statistically speaking, it’s likely that someone will fall off a ladder and die. Are you prepared for this?” Checking my web stats today, I noticed that Walden was linked from a randy porn…

I met a guy named Dwight yesterday. He was using a two-by-four to pry a steel beam into place on a bridge over a 120-year-old dam in Hunter River. When he saw me coming, he threatened to get his shot gun. Guess I looked “Government.” Must be Ottawa. Turns out the bureaucrats in the Department of Fisheries and Oceans were telling him he couldn’t raise the pond (by closing the dam) until he got “fish nets.” This, after 3 years of following all the rules, of getting all the right permits. (and over 100 years of no fish nets on the Hunter River dam). Meanwhile, the -12C was threatening the…