Blog

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—

If you are feeling bored and want to regain the friskiness and adventure of your youth, you can try these things: Make some stilts with scraps of wood you have around the house and walk around on them. You can swat off the spider webs high around the ceiling with your fly swatter. And just look down on things, as if you were a tall person. Think of something reassuring to say to the cat or dog, because they will probably think you are crazy, or in danger—which you slightly ar

This week, when I got home from the plant nursery with a trunk-load of flowers plus two tomato plants, I finally noticed that I still had one pant leg rolled up from the bike ride that had preceded the plant shopping. Argh. I comforted myself with the following sobering thought, once fatally communicated by a hairdresser to a dear friend of mine: “Nobody is looking at you anyway.” I have decided on a preventive measure. From now on, I will roll both pant legs up so that it wi

I was in the bathroom working on my face this morning when it occurred to me how similar this was to another job I sometimes have to do. That similar job is icing a cake. These tasks both precede having to see and be seen by other people. I have to work on my face this morning because twice today I will be seen by other people: first, at the gym (make-up optional) and second, at bridge (make-up desirable). I am pleased to compare and contrast these high-skill activities for y

I am just back from another road trip, this one from Chilliwack, BC, up the Cariboo Highway through the Fraser Canyon, to Prince George, BC, a drive of approximately 7.5 hours each way. I went with a dear friend of mine—Karen (Rustad) Bergman—so that we could attend the celebration of life for a cousin of hers. The cousin, Jim Rustad, was a pillar of the community of Prince George, a city of 100,000 people, he having run a big sawmill and planer mill busines for many years. F