It flew in from America on a sunny Ottawa morning. And the biggest disappointment was how small it was, smaller than I remember previous ones being, when I was a kid. And less flexible. Canadians used to enjoy shaping it, but today I just want to squish it and throw it against the wall to see if it bounces. Yes, Silly Putty. Thank God for Silly Putty! My colleague Amanda brought me some from Time Square, just in time to help me cope with the arrival of the Butcher of Baghdad. That other, even less flexible American import.

A study published today gives pause to parishoners. Going to church can kill you. A Dutch study of air quality in churches concluded that the air had more cancer-causing pollutants than air beside a major highway travelled daily by 45,000 vehicles. So that just proves that living in Toronto or going to church both bring you closer to God.



President Bush is coming to town next week. Major protests are planned. Funny, I can't get a certain Bruce Cockburn song out of my head.



I found out today that this blog site you are reading is worth $1,366.66 US on Blogshares, which isn't a lot. That's 0.000027% market share.

Lazy. Christmas.

It's already too late to be early. The Jane Siberry CD (Child) is on shuffle again. How much orgasmic moaning can one person take? Apparently, about 35 days. Suzy informed me tonight that she's moved up our tree decorating day to Dec 11 from Dec 18. She scratched my note off the family calendar and put a big red arrow to the week prior. My wife says the tree "has to be up more than a week!" OK, as long as it's not five. Let's just say, I'm not in The Mood, yet. But it's building. It starts with frozen toes on November 11, followed by lingering sentiment. As I was bouncing Simon tonight while Suzy was out - desperate for a soother (he was too), I got all weepy watching Trudeau night on The Greatest Canadian. Which doesn't say much. I cried during Alexander Graham Bell night last week. I should go and do some meditating.



So, because I'm lazy, here are some videos that are just sitting on the server.

>> Christmas decorating with Claudette, Mrs. "Silver Balls"

>> Cardinal -- the week after. Bored and tired of turkey.

>> Memory -- The old Reader's Digest TV ad.

Hard to find good help

Suzanne quit yesterday. She's been cleaning our house once a week for 6 months. A good friend gave me some great advice a few years ago: Hiring domestic help is a super investment. And it is, especially with two kids in the house. I'm proud to say I haven't cleaned a toilet in ages, and I don't plan to -- at 36, this is a gift I give to myself for making it this far. And getting a housekeeper is good discipline. It means we have to tidy up once a week so she can really clean.



Suzanne says she's burned out, but she also says she's still going to clean the homes of our neighbours on each side of us. Hmmm. This makes me question her reason for leaving us in the dust and dust bunnies.



We're not super fastidious or picky about her work, though I have asked her to wipe baseboards on occasion. She totally misses the point of my meditation corner; each week she tucks the bench, candle and books against the wall as if clean = linear. Suzanne's a religious person, who once confessed to us that she would vote how her husband wanted. She also has a special service on her TV that blocks "swear words." So maybe she was shocked the day I said said Jesus Christ in a context that was rather non-reverential. Or maybe she found the old Penthouse that's under my bed (yes, Suzy knows about it -- we bought it together on our honeymoon in 1999). Or she looked up what KY is really used for.



Anyway, we're flying on our own again, maitres chez nous, $50 richer each week. I'll have to look into the latest innovation in toilet brush technology.

Running helps. So does stopping



Running rocks. I'm not very good at it, but it transforms me. After just a km or two, I feel like a swimmer bursting to the surface after a deep dive - the air is so rich, life so exhilarating. Suddenly my world expands to the horizon in all directions, and anything's possible.



>> Try running.



Running is like meditation, in a way. It's alone time, where you become acutely aware of all the noise in your head. And both are also physical things - yes! - because when meditating or running, you really get to see how thoughts affect how you physically feel. Positive thinking gets you an extra mile. Anger causes pain.



>> Try meditation.



I felt this today. I harbour a deep anger, and I don't know what to do about it. Well, actually, I do. I just have to call Joan and tell her I'd really like something of dad's. It's been three years since he died, and I've not heard from her. We were never close, Joan and I, but just makes sense that she would be aware that I might want a token of Dad's life, something I can point to with my son and say, "That was your grandfather's."



But then, things don't matter. I guess what makes me angry is not being treated with respect, again. And feeling like I have to ask for it.



All I'd really like to have is dad's tool belt, the one he wore while we built the cabin together. I'm no gold digger, even if dad had any when he died. Oh, but he did, kinda. Yeah. I also think Joan should return dad's wedding ring, the one from his first marriage, to my mother. Joan's his second wife, after all, and if she's to stupid to realize that the ring's not hers, then someone ought to tell her. (Gee, there's the anger again).



>> Om. Ommm. Deal with your anger.



At one level, this is all pretty silly. I deal with tough situations all the time these days, and I like to think I'm a pretty honest guy. But what I hate is how this situation makes me feel like a powerless 10 year old, again. That's a crummy feeling.



You've got my address, Joan. If this makes you mad, go for a run.

Americans: Just under half of them are OK

Now they want us to know. See pics and notes from Americans, saying "Sorry, Everybody" for electing Shrub.

The Reason for Recurring Math Nightmares.

At New York's Kennedy airport today, an individual later discovered to be a public school teacher was arrested trying to board a flight while in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a set square, a slide rule, and a calculator. At a morning press conference, Attorney general John Ashcroft said he believes the man is a member of the notorious al-gebra movement. He is being charged by the FBI with carrying weapons of math instruction."Al-gebra is a fearsome cult," Ashcroft said. "They desire average solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off on tangents in a search of absolute value. They use secret code names like 'x'and 'y' and refer to themselves as 'unknowns', but we have determined they belong to a common denominator of the axis of medieval with coordinates in every country. As the Greek philanderer Isosceles used to say, 'there are 3 sides to every triangle'. "When asked to comment on the arrest, President Bush said, "If God had wanted us to have better weapons of math instruction, He would have given us more fingers".



(Sent by Samy the e-forwarder)

Get naked. Soak it up.

The Fall is a good time for sensual pursuits. Sensual is a good word. It's all good: Musty wet fallen leaves, deep breath, frost nip. I don't mind the early dark as long as I have fire. Today a chimney sweep arrived with his Victorian broom and allowed me to go back to hardwood fires -- those Loblaws logs just don't cut it, or crackle. Think of a hit of wood smoke on an evening walk at dusk in the hour before curtains are drawn. Dinners on display. Voyeurism that's OK.



Then there's lusty Merlot in a rubinesque glass, coating and descending - best savoured on the exhale, through the nose. Mmm. In front of the fire (see above), even better.



I love a cabin bath this time of year. The clawfoot full of water steams when the door is left ajar. Sliding into that decadence I fight a giddy smugness that envelops me like the water; whatever possessed me to build a bath house on a clearcut is my God. And, getting out all pink and younger and less worried, joy is tip-toeing naked in the frosty grass -- humility to Hell -- on the way back to the cabin, the wood fire, repose.

Song in my head, to share with you ... help!

Well, it's a sunny day

I feel brand new

There are so many things that

I could do



Whoa-wo



Would you like to

Do them to?



Well it's a big wide world

And it's waiting for me and you!



(Click to hear/see the tune, from Jasper's newest favourite TVO kids show, and get it stuck in your head too). It's All-right. Kinda catchy.

Skin

My son is as sensitive as I was/am. He still finds going to school hard, and little things upset him -- like animals getting cold outside, or a fallen tree. I'm not sure how much of this is nature and how much nurture. Sure, Suzy and I are trying to get him to appreciate life, but we don't know why he is still upset about leaving us in the morning when we think we've given him every reason to feel secure. Maybe it's transferred to him in other ways -- because I still have a deep apprehension, not about going to work or school, or even of who I am (thank God), but a fear about the way the world's going. But maybe this too is just human nature. Even Henry David Thoreau (who wrote Walden -- which inspired my cabin and this site) was concerned about the direction the world was headed. (quote coming).



Some may say there is always reason to have hope, but even that is a distraction. Hope, in one sense, is just an abrogation of responsibility. As long as we cling to hope, we don't have to deal with things that are happening now. This is a direct line from a meditation practice -- and it's one of the untold reasons why more people don't meditate. A heightened awareness of what's actually going on right now can be pretty scary. It's ironic that George Bush declared "a new season of hope" in his first speech after winning last week's US election. His approach to life is sure to send legions to liquor or church.



So here's to awareness and security. Life in the moment. If I can breathe and wiggle my toes, there's reason to be happy. And if I can pass this on to Jasper, he'll be OK too.

Personal control issues

I've given up coffee -- dumped half a large Second Cup Huehuetenago down the drain this morning in disgust while reading about Bush winning the election. Sour taste in my mouth. I figure giving up bad things is something I can do that's short of storming the US Embassy with rotten tomatoes. I also stopped caring about walking on cracks today. Mom's had a bad back for years; it's not my fault.



At the World Exchange Plaza food court today, I noticed that the yellow maple leaves of a tree on the other side of the plate glass window were waving furiously at me. Notice us! Pay attention!! It was just the tough ones left, dropping only one at a time and ignored in the cold November wind.



Tomorrow I interview Daniel Igali for CIDA. Daniel is the Canadian Olympic Gold Medalist in Wrestling (Sydney, 2000). He has also led a determined personal campaign to rebuilt his childhood school in Nigeria. Canada has been slow to take up his challenge. But he doesn't mind.

Bushwhack?

I've never felt this tense about a US election before. Suzy is in the next room watching results, and I'm avoiding what I expect will be a Bush victory. But oh how sweet it would be to get rid of Bush! Over lunch today, a client said that while she didn't like the president, she could understand how some people could support him for his clarity, for his willingness to hit back at the terrorists. I replied that I just had a real problem with an idiot being in charge of the free world.



Did you know that you can now take out your frustration on a virtual pet? It's still frowned upon to string up your real kitty, so now you can do it on-line. And the kids love it! My neighbours in PEI have four young kids (3 of them girls under 11 years old). Two of them are nurturing Neopets. But when I visited a few weeks ago, one had lost interest in the on-line pet. And once you create your pet on-line and name it, if you don't feed it by visiting the site daily, it slowly starves to death.



But, back to Bush, I really want to picket the US Embassy here in Ottawa with a "Your president is a fucking loser" poster. I'd dress nicely, and be polite, but just hold the sign. I'd even sip a grande latte from Starbucks while protesting, so as not to be confused with the anti-globalization fringe. That'd have 'em scratching their heads.



So now that I've used Bush and Idiot, and "Bush is an Idiot" in my Web site, I'd like to welcome all my new readers from the Homeland Security office. Read up on Thoreau, boys, if you want to learn about civil disobedience.



Funny how words in a site can generate traffic. This gives me an idea. Back in grade one, Kelly White used bring salt and vinegar chips to school for recess. I was not a fan of school then; even the bus driver let me off half-way to school a few times the first week, for wailing so loudly (I was Good at melodrama even then). Anyway, I used to hang with Kelly because she had a careless tomboy cool about her, and an endless supply of chips. There were no neopets then, so we were not concerned about her virtual pussy. She had me where she wanted me, though. She didn't share, but let me lick her chip bag. I wonder what kind of traffic my "virtual pussy" and "licking her delicious bag" will generate. At least the Homeland Security boys will get a cheap thrill -- as long as they remember not to forward it to friends.



May common sense of the non-Harris kind prevail south of 49 tonight. Peace and good will to all.

My word

I've decided to write here every day this week. I'm not going to tell anyone about it, though, in case I just don't. I don't have many traditional vices, aside from German beer by the half-litre can and a lingering childhood self-doubt, but pledging to write in my site is much like declaring an end to smoking, except backwards. See, if I have to write here daily, this is the kind of crap you'll get. Maybe I should stop thinking about you.



So what's new?



I stole coffee money from my four-year-old son's Thomas the Tank Engine wallet the other day. The shame, the shame.



And I was really concerned about 10 days ago when I couldn't lift my left arm above my head without excruciating pain. I considered the options (cancer or some other deadly illness always pops to mind), but then I realized I'd sprained my shoulder trying to rub moisturizer on my own back. I figured this out by repeating the between-the-shoulder-blades wiping motion with my other arm and hurting it too. So I'm not doomed, yet.



When I confessed this to my wife, she informed me that the under-the-counter spray moisturizer I've been using was bought at Giant Tiger before we were married (5 years ago).



There's a fruit fly in my beer, but I don't care. Only a few chromosomes separate us anyway. Did you read about the other human species that was discovered on some Pacific island? It lived with our ancestors just 12,000 years ago, was 3' tall, and had a tiny brain. Scientists say some of these primitive cousins could still be alive somewhere the clearcut companies haven't stripped. Funny, I know where all my primitive cousins are. If we do find these ancient creatures, they should be bred for cute servants. We can make them worship us, and we can promise them streets of gold after death for their labour and fear in this life. A good racket, eh?



Anytime I've let a spider escape in the house it has appeared on or near me later, menacingly.



Suzy asks, "Why would you let a spider escape in the house?"



"Compassion."



(Abrupt change of subject)



"Honey, do you remember getting big chocolate bars trick or treating as a kid? Wasn't that awesome? Not like those crummy little bars now. One place in Winsloe gave us a huge Mr. Big every year. That was great."



"Mr. Big sucks."



(Conversations in bed after five years of marriage.)



**



I still feel bad for little cousin Bill. OK, I'm gonna share this with you ... His mom (aunt) Margaret made him a robot costume out of cardboard boxes, but it rained and rained and it fell apart after just a few houses. Oh, God, I don't want to share my candy, but I think I should ... Oh, God. It's just not right. Stupid God!



Thank you, thank you. That feels better.