I got sunshine on a cloudy day

Sometimes I get serious here. So I'll spare you the mouse update except to say that the thing that was clogging the drain in the wash basin this weekend wasn't lint.

As I write I'm listening to Ideas on CBC Radio. Tonight's program features Ray Kurzweil, an inventor and futurist being called "the rightful heir to Thomas Edison." So of course my ears perked up. I do a lot of Edison bashing.

What got my attention was his confident assertion that solar power will supply all of humanity's energy needs in 20 years. It's the first time in months I've heard a positive perspective on the future. I'd like to have a more positive view of the future.

Occasionally when I speak to groups about Porchlight I share an anecdote about a conversation I had with Jasper one night as I was tucking him in to bed. He asked me why I spent so much time talking to people about light bulbs. It was late and I was tired, and I remember snapping back something like, "I'm trying to save the planet."

I don't remember how he reacted. But it was a kind of slap in my own face, a reminder that I was trying to do something meaningful. And so when I reflect on this during events or in media interviews, I can say that even if changing bulbs seems insignificant, I know that in 20 years when my kids ask me "What did You do to change things, Dad?" I will have an answer. I tried.

Now tonight I'm thinking that the question might be, "Dad, why were you so worried?"

And we'd have a good laugh about the bulbs. And open another cold one in the clean, cool woods of central PEI. Safe.

Royal Blue

Here's a tip:

Never try to take an organic wild blueberry spelt crust pie home on your electric bike. First of all, it's not worth the $9. And chances are the young woman in tie-dye with dreds behind the counter will give you a used grocery bag with holes (when you ask sheepishly for that unholy item to take home your righteous tart).

I'm enjoying my bread-free journey to a healthier me, but there are some things that will never change: blueberry is unkind to library books lulu lemon sweats. And bikes and pies don't mix.

Spare us this day, our daily bread

Suzy's in the pre-week of the Raw Diet. Meaning, she is cutting back on certain things like meat and processed stuff. The idea is to eat better and lose weight.

I've never had a problem with girth; if anything, I shy away from shorts because of my "chicken legs" (as my sister used to call them). I'm heavier now that I've ever been, but that's 157lb. I was a svelte 145 when I got married (in 1999). But I've been feeling kinda blah lately, so I thought I would join Suzy's journey by giving up something, to see what happens. I decided to give up beer and bread.

Beer makes me grouchy. I Love the stuff, but after just one I get a bit sleepy and irritable, which is bad for someone who's already, well, kinda intense. (One of the few benefits of advancing age is self-awareness). Besides, I prefer wine, especially red. And the indulgence has a rationale; red wine is "good for the heart." Which is great because even with a tight waistline, my cholesterol is high. A doctor told me at age 22 to stop eating eggs, saying I'd have a heart attack by 40 if I didn't. I didn't. And 40 was so last month.

Giving up beer. Easy.

But I'm a bread-aholic. I'm thinking about it Right Now. Because the reason for giving up bread is to reduce wheat intake, and Wheat's In Everything. No more granola breakfast. No more chewy snack bars or cookies or pita or tuna on whole grain at lunch. No more nacho chips with salsa or kaiser rolls. No more pasta.

Life without bread is hard. I need help. I almost caved tonight when I ordered pepperoni pizza for the boys -- it's Jasper's birthday tomorrow and avoiding the Duncan Heinz will be a new threshold of discipline.

It's been three days, and it's a good thing I'm taking a few days off this week. I needed to sleep this afternoon. The spinach salad with beets at lunch just didn't do it for me. And yesterday's experiment with microwaved green beans with salt for breakfast was not repeated today. I need a coach!

And maybe a tailor. I'm also running again. 5k today, the third time in a week. It feels great, but the energy's got to come from somewhere, and there's not a lot of excess me to burn. Which makes my wife burn; three days in and I'm down three lb.

Maybe I'll get my six-pack back. On my gut, anyway.

Simplify, simplify.

It's harder than it sounds.

When I bought the 10-acre clearcut in 1994, I just wanted some land. Then I thought I would just build a little shack to "get out of the rain." Then I consulted an architect. And buried power lines underground. And added a clawfoot tub. Then an outdoor shower. This year it's screening in the porch and adding LED outdoor lights.

What does Simplify really mean? Life without convenience sucks. But discipline and hardship are essential to happiness. I really believe that. So where's the balance? These days I long to spend time in the woods. The first few days I'm at Walden among my trees I revisit old friends: The tiny birch twigs donated by colleagues for the '95 replanting, now requiring trimming and thinning, 30' tall. The Norway Maple my grandparents donated that now dominates the driveway and is on fire, red in the fall. I love that tree. Every time I visit I stand among them in awe. At times people who pop by (or my wife) ask me if I'm ok because they find me standing alone and still in the woods.

Despite all my busy-ness and plans, and frenzy, I really think that I could be quite content with a simple life there, observing. Writing. But maybe I should try it for more than just a few days. In fact, I will this summer. A month at Walden.

The thing about the woods is it doesn't wait to be figured out. It keeps changing. So every visit is an introduction as well as a return.

Write it on my stone. Stuart loved his trees.

It's taken me a year of moving and shoving to get rid of a third of the junk in my house in Ottawa. This shocks and saddens me. Why did I have that stuff in the first place? Why do I want to shed Even More?

And why do I think I would be happy on a hill in the woods watching trees grow? What kind of life would that be? And why in my heart do I believe that my children would be stronger and happier adults if 10 acres of mixed woodland were the only clutter in their life?

The thing is, I will probably never know.

Miles to go

I've decided to take three days off this week. Wed-Friday. Since this option occurred to me this morning, I've been positively giddy. Now I can do stuff that's fallen behind, way behind. Here's a quick list:

- Sort socks. I just keep buying more when I need clean pairs. The result is two laundry basket-fuls of almost-matching black socks. The worst part is that the kind that is most numerous also includes several with a hole in the toe that is only visible when you put them on. Trial and error and trial again!
- Fix the toilet. We have two at home. Due to a leak in the tank of the one on the ground floor (inside the ceramic is stamped Oct 1966), we have had to flush with a bucket of water - Since November.
- Rake. I bought the last rake for sale in Ottawa yesterday. Canadian Tire and Walmart were sold out and I nabbed the last one at Home Depot. Seriously.
- Fix this blog.
- Rent the cottage and cabin. Know of anyone who wants a nice rental place in PEI? Please pass the word.
- Run. I just did my third 5k run in 10 days and I feel great. Suzy says I'm going to injure myself, but I feel like a million bucks at about 4k, so I gotta keep going there.

- Find the power cable for this laptop. It's about to die, again, so I'd better log off. Besides, the compost needs turning and it's been a while and it's still sunny out so I'd better go.

It's recover balance week at Walden. Stay tuned for more updates.

Stuart

PS - Mark, I'm waiting for the cabin pics. $5US is in the mail if you send 'em!

Sunday night's all right

I'm happier when I write here. It's weird.

So I'm going to try to do it more. 'cause I want to be happy. or -ier. Or is it more happy. Frack.

Today I swept out the carport shed. Lots of mouse turd. Puddy sniffed at me with greater attention when I came in. Gross. Jasper and I went to Zellers last night and stocked up on Sens hats and shirts in anticipation of tomorrow night's game (we have nosebleed seats). Baseball hats with hockey logos. After we got home and all tried on the hats Suzy told me Maria from Simon's daycare called to report lice. Nice. So between the mouse ass and the lice head it's been a Day for obsessive compulsive types. Doesn't explain why my arms are feeling itchy.

After baths tonight I heard a clicking noise upstairs. Then Suzy came running down. She'd seen a "rice-sized thing" on Simon's head. Thankfully it turned out to be a toenail. No nits yet, nitwit.

Simon helped me all day. We cleaned out the basement (two station-wagon loads of stuff we weren't using went to Salvation Army, including two large bags of kids books -- more than one person could carry at once.) It's hard to give up "Love You Forever," but when you have three copies ... And Suzy yanked Maisy's Colours from the bag. That's what we used to read to Jasper for his "let's read a book" when we were really, really tired.

One

Word

Per

Page.

Blue!

After ten loads of laundry and more cleaning, Simon and I played soccer in the carport -- now wonderfully empty save for a pile of stuff en route out. He had me doing Mario moves, a cross between the Running Man and the macarena, when I got a goal past the Little Monk. It took me a minute but apparently "Mario moves" comes from Wii. And if you don't know what that means, just fuhgettaboutit.

Jasper was at a friend's house this afternoon. When he got home I had supper ready and was looking somewhat harried, heading out for a run, when he said,

"Dad, just go out and get drunk. Take it easy." I actually thought, well, my kid told me to, so... But then I ran my lung scorching 3k and came home to chicken and wild rice. And no lice.

Green!

And so ends my most Boring blog post ever.

Close but not quite

It's time to refocus. I've been quite preoccupied by the Project over the past two years. And now it's time to restore some balance. The tipping point was just reached today when it occurred to me that just last week I'd come within 10km of Walden (the real, original one) in MA, and it didn't occur to me to exit the I90 for a look-see. I'd rented a car for the 2-hour trip between Springfield and Boston and I just drove right by Concord at 70MPH singing along at the top of my lungs to 80s tunes to sap the stress.

For years I've been looking forward to a chance to visit the original source of Thoreau's transcendentalist philosophy, the place that inspired my own cabin in the woods. And yet I just drove by. It seriously didn't cross my mind that I was even close. I have totally lost touch.

It's time to exit the freeway for a while and take the back roads a bit. The snow is melting at my Walden and this summer I'm gonna go Simplify a bit.

3 ft from happy

It's sunny today. The snow has dropped by about 18", enough now to reveal the top of the forsythia bushes on the south side of the house. We can see the Christmas lights again from the road. The back yard is another matter; I'm sure there's a patio set out there. I'm kind of hoping someone's stolen it.

Funk.

I should go outside, but I feel greasy and unmotivated. I'm taking vitamin D when I should be sitting in the sun. The chairs are buried. Usually when I feel this way I cheer myself up by getting rid of stuff. There's also a toilet to fix. I could do that.

Simon and I are going for a swim, and then there's a show by The Acorn tonight at the Blacksheep Inn. The good news is I know I will feel better soon, as soon as I can get outside. Like, after turning off this laptop.

* Mouse update:

I forgot to mention in my last post that when Suzy screamed for me to come up stairs to save her from the mouse she yelled, "Bring the trap!" as if all I would have to do is put the little Victor on the ground and the varmint would run right to it. It was like the time she called me at work to demand I come home because a sparrow had flown into the house. Jasper still has a bear called Hero, given to him later that day by Suzy because he solved the crisis by opening the front door.

Simple actions matter. I'll be happier once I stand up and stretch in the sunlight.

Bye!

Squish

I killed a mouse with a broom tonight. Was on the phone wishing happy birthday to my grandmother in PEI, who turns 95 this week, when Suzy wailed from up stairs. Gram was raised in rural PEI on a farm in a tiny community called Pleasant Valley. Now she plays Internet Scrabble. She's sharp as a tack, but I was alarmed to learn from her just tonight that she'd spent 3 days in hospital earlier this month "because my heart was fluttering and the nitro didn't help." Since Dad died, I get most of my Hickox news from Mark in New England.

So I had to let Gram go. "Gram, I have to go kill a mouse in my bedroom."

"Oh, dear. I thought I heard Suzy scream. Is she all right?"

"Yes, but she's probably on the bed." (she was, with the boys).

So I went up stairs, chased the mouse into the hall (out of sight of my wee men) and beat the living daylights out of it. I broke the broom in the process. Then I picked the mouse up like one would a sidewalk doggie do, in a Bob the Builder towel that we'd tossed in the Sally Ann bag. Then I and wiped up the blood. One mouse gone. Collateral damage: Broom.

We have electric lights now. My sons' great grandmother is on-line. But we still have mice in our homes. Strangely comforting, that.



... I hear something in the walls ...