Blog

I had a first-time-in-my-life adventure yesterday, which, at my age, is quite an accomplishment. That is, I went to the dentist to have a molar extracted. Beforehand, I looked on the internet to see what was involved. I saw that it could get messy if the tooth and its roots put up a fight. As often happens before any surgical procedure, or before a dangerous ride at the fun fair, I was given a paper to sign to show that I was aware of all the bad possibilities. There were abo

I just read an article on the BBC News website that filled me with joy and hope right on the spot. Right on the spot? Yes!! The article described the amazing benefits of taking a five-minute dance break every day. All by yourself! Just get your best music on and start flying around the kitchen and the living room and the dining room. Even down the hall. Leaping, striding, sashaying, swirling, twirling, swiveling your head, waggling your derrière, and so forth. Arms high in th

Here are a few inventions that my staff and I are currently looking into, in order to raise cash. The Wonder Worker™: This is a pill you take at night with half a glass of tepid water. You take the pill, and it puts you to sleep very nicely and quickly. Before long, you descend into a long dream sequence in which you industriously tackle your hardest job—say, doing your taxes or trying to cancel your Shaw TV subscription—and cleverly and calmly take the whole thing on. In the

I have been thinking about the razor blade issue. That is: why do drugstores have to lock up the men's razor blades? Almost everything else is just sitting there on the shelves for you to pluck down, assess, and possibly throw into your shopping cart. Although another thing locked up is the electric toothbrushes. So why would this be the case? Here are my theories of the moment. As to the razor blades, the fellows prone to stealing them are resentful that they have to shave e

The other day, out in the car doing my round of errands, I came face to face with a bus coming from the opposite direction. On its big sign were the words: SORRY—OUT OF SERVICE. Would that we could all have such a big sign on our foreheads for those days when we are more or less out of service. This cold—this lingering condition of being badgered to a thread by a million (a billion? a trillion?) viruses—has me staggering along, doing the necessary by rote: make the bed, put o

Here is my complaint of the day. Artificial intelligence is all around us, and I have come to the conclusion that it has been specifically designed to make us look stupid. It hit me as I lay down for my afternoon nap, casually playing a few games of Classic Words, tuned to the Extremely Hard level, hoping to get sleepy. The AI that I am playing against has an unfair advantage. If you are not familiar with the game, I can tell you that it is just a little Scrabble game you pla

I seem to be careening in the direction of Margaret Atwood hair. To be fair, also Albert Einstein hair. Which is fuzzy, fly-away, untrammelled, un-svelte, dandelion fluff, milkweed, corona, unkempt, unkeepable, craft material, fibrous, floating, burgeoning, expanding, different every day, good at the front but bad at the back and from the sides, bad everywhere... maybe if I put it behind my ears. She should just do something about her hair. I don't mean Margaret Atwood in par

I am getting ready for another reunion of my law school class. This one will mark the 52nd anniversary of our graduation and the 50th anniversary of our Call to the Bar in Ontario. The reunion is some months off, but I am more aware of it than most of my classmates because I am on the organizing committee, and because I have certain things to think about. Namely, shoes. When you go to a reunion, you have a whole room full of people upon whom you want to make a good impression

I got back from my lovely trip, and other than confirming that next time one pair of shoes would do, not six, and that the luggage security police have no sense of proportion, all was well. Except that the very next afternoon, a big scratchy throat rose up in me and threatened that I might be getting a cold. And yes, the scratchy throat led to more big scratchy throat, and the runny nose, and the coughing, and the spacey head, and the generalized misery—yes indeed, it was a c

I am packing my bags to go on a holiday in the countryside. The weather is uncertain, and, since it is June, we could get just about anything: a heat wave, pouring rain, hail, snow, cloudy and windy, or—what I hope for—REALLY NICE. I thought I was well set, packing-wise, since I can take on the plane an ordinary suitcase, a carry-on suitcase, a backpack, and even a purse. There should be lots of room for anything I could need. Except that, after I sort of got the bags packed—