Got wool?

A video short featuring more
about this word from Phil, lol.

How are you utilizing your time? 

Yes, most of us are either too busy for much downtime and when we are idle, we busy ourselves (understandably) by consuming entertainment or worse, doomscrolling. Sigh. 

Hence I am happy to launch this word into your vocabulary (and worldview). Dear friends, a challenge: sip your coffee and let this word sail toward the sunrise along your peaceful horizon and let your woolgathering be like serenity-seeking. 

Perhaps you were already familiar but if not, consider this term's etymology: "woolgathering comes from the literal 16th-century practice of wandering through fields and hedgerows to collect loose tufts of wool left behind by sheep." Hmm, not exactly a highly constructive nor profitable endeavor, but is woolgathering/daydreaming completely meritless? It depends. 

I'm not referring to being unproductive, or replaying negative events and experiences, nor do I suggest you lose focus while you're cutting carrots. Instead, I'm talking about the value of intentional daydreaming. We humans are not designed to be endlessly "on." So, consider literal woolgathering. YOU HAVE ONE JOB: accumulating. (Also this: if possible, literally get moving.) Gather your "wool" mindfully. If that sounds like a contradiction to daydreaming, I see your point, but intent aims to transform. 

So, how? I don't know, but I do know how I escape my own unhelpful thoughts and I experience the benefits every day. It has taken me years but I know my brain. My brain seeks comfort and chocolate almonds and imaginary conflicts and unwarranted anxieties, so when it veers away from the sunrise, I use self-talk to remind myself that my brain is a bullshitter liar narcissist unreliable-narrator...so then I revert back to the harmless woolgathering... accumulating... sorting... sifting through those useful random thoughts (gather ye rosebuds while ye may). And whether that adds up to a "sock" or whatever hardly matters. Why? Because at least my mind had a coffee break and watched the sunrise instead of the news. 

The Answer?

Bebe Rexha & Dolly Parton
(on my current playlist)

Today there's an old conversation playing in my head. 

We were attempting to get to know each other better, and he asked, "what kind of music are you into?" That was a mistake. I'm terrible at small talk. I suspect many people would say, "oh I like almost anything" or "Not jazz" but... music is just too paramount within me for any definitive synopsis. (I've written about my playlist before.) 

I'd compare musical tastes to explaining how one falls in love. How do you articulate those highly personal and abstract and fervid whatabouts? Intangible notions that sometimes trigger love at first sight or maybe bit by bit and then suddenly all at once. For me, music (the arts) is the lifelong love: my first love, a love longer than all the other loves. Lonely (Gen X) kids found love where they could. My early loves were all in books and on the radio and TV. 

Anyway, we had a bit of a meandering conversation; I tried to explain that the music I like is not just about the genre, or performer, or time period—it depends on the songwriting, the personal connection, and the self-expression. It's a relationship. He considered this, and asked one last question, "so, you like Dolly Parton then? I said, "absolutely." Suddenly, we understood each other! It's true: Dolly always has a way of bringing people together.  

Today I'm thinking about 1970s childhood me sitting on the floor in front of the TV watching Dolly perform, feeling connected, and yes, it was love at first sight. (She was like my cousins' dolls.) But it was also her trademark self-deprecating humour, her warm neighbourliness, her sincere optimism and over time, her incredible generosity and humanity. Today, I am also remembering some other members of my childhood TV family: Mork (Robin Williams), and John Candy. Sigh. 

If music is indeed like love, this week our sorry world lost love personified. Nevertheless dear friends, notice (and don't forget) that even after this world-wide collective grief fades, Dolly will always be the answer to many of life's most challenging questions. 

Le'ts be honest

Source: The Contrarian
Click here for more from Canadian
Political Cartoonist Michael de Adder.

Are we Canadians surprised by the latest trade negotiations shitshow with the US? 

Hmm...this is who he "wished well." Doesn't it just tell you everything you need to know? 

(Thank you, PM Carney.)

Things one should outgrow

The OG Scottish oatcakes. Yum.

In Nairn, Scotland this summer I discovered The Scottish Oats Bible cookbook. It provided more than just a recipe for oatcakes (a traditional Scottish healthy food staple); it offered insight into recurring habits I've worked hard to break, one that periodically hijacks all my creative pursuits. 

I've been teaching myself to bake for years now. It's artsy and inventive, and sharing my creations with my friends/kids/grand-turkeys is joyful. It's also nostalgic; many of my recipes are connected to my past, including the Scottish oatcakes of my youth.

A family member had already provided my childhood recipe:

🥣Melt 1 cup of butter.

🥣Stir in 1.5 cups of brown sugar (vanilla & salt to taste).

🥣Stir in 4 cups of rolled oats (I added 1/4 c chopped almonds).

🥣Add mixture to greased muffin tins and bake at 350℉ for 18 minutes.

A totally "healthy food staple" right? Nope...but easy-peasy and delicious? Oat-ally!

Sure, the cookbook offered some tweaks, but then I (over)thought... I should revamp this recipe... I should make them healthier... I could use a sugar substitute... Applesauce...? Crushed bananas...? I could add protein... Hmm, my version isn't good...YET... I should add jam to my recipe... they're still garbage.... Notice what happened? 

There's nothing inherently wrong with reinvention; it's a key component in creativity. But it can slip into something I've struggled with that I'd call "self-surveillance." 

If you grow up in a neglectful or highly critical environment (both), that tricky inner narrator likes to monitor, judge, and urge you to adjust and adjust expecting improvements. Sure, it's a growth mindset but one that has run amok. It also elevates product over process, and when the product (for me) is food, shame will inevitably show up to gatecrash this party. But then I recall that there are those truly healthy alternatives. Being yumped. Living in the moment. Peace. (Insert cleansing breath here.)

Dear friends, how do you ignore/quiet/bludgeon your inner Statler & Waldorf?

Things that deserve more stink eye?

Um, this was a surprise. Hmm...is it just a coincidence or is this some sort of (cryptic) response to my recent post (beef) about WORDLE?

Um, you know when you've been joking (shit-talking) about the Internet (wasteland) and sharing your totally unserious (serious) feelings about sentient (consciously malicious) technology and (hostile) AI and the INEVITABLE SINGULARITY SPONSORED BY BILLIONAIRES (the greed-based ongoing decline toward a hell-scape dystopia whereby us regular folks are enslaved by our phones/ technology in service to corrupt influencers and unrestrained plutocrats aka META et al).... Well c'mon Internet (LORD OF THE PINGS), all I did was challenge WORDLE to a battle of wits!

So, am I officially frenemies with WORDLE? Or is this a white flag? Or is this a threat disguised as a white flag? (Spoiler: YES IT IS.) Now that they've destabilized me, who knows what this means, and what's next?!

Let's be honest:

I (2), M (5), M (8 mos), L (3), M (1)

Our summer attempt to take a couch photo of all five of our grandchildren was... messy, chaotic, and like chasing your own tail, a hilarious exercise in futility* but also this: PERFECTION because I CAN'T WAIT for them to reenact it as teens someday. 

*An argument ensued regarding which sibling should get to hold M (their little sister). If you look carefully, our eldest granddaughter's body language shows how cross she was at this grave INJUSTICE perpetrated by her little brother, ha. 

Happy FIRST birthday young M! I hope your older siblings (and cousins) might always pick you for their teams, but that would be wishbull thinking, wouldn't it? Never fear though: you will always belong to Team Pops. 

Things that deserve the stink eye

Ha, right back at ya, Wordle: 🖕

I quit Wordle last year and when someone asked me why, I didn't think before saying, "Connections is superior word-play." 

Well.

Apparently, Wordle heard me? Because, sentient? Because AI? Because I'm paranoid? Because, when I recently resumed play, I noticed Wordle was unusually difficult, like it was AWARE of my unpremeditated (yet accurate) SMEAR and had received an ALERT. Despite Google's pledge otherwise, (sure, Jan) we all know our phones are listening to us, right? 

Okay yes I sound a bit paranoid but consider how many five letter words support my (admittedly pea-brain) hypothesus: FISHY, SHADY, CAGEY, using GUILE to play DIRTY. Well Wordle, if you have indeed evolved, become sentient, or AI sophisticated, I bet you can't "hear" this,  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ nor can you unscramble this:⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ 😏😉

Let's be honest

Even those who live in Polar Night
still "find the light."

Nothing says middle of August in northern Canada like a soon to mature sunflower. Why? 

The days are quickly becoming shorter here. In June we have close to 18 wonderful hours of daily sunlight, but in August? About 16. Near the end of September? Around 11. In December? A mere 7. But I'll take those seven and send good thoughts to the Canadians (and all northerners) who live north of the Arctic Circle.  

I don't mean to get ahead of myself, but if you live in the North, it's a bit like being a sunflower—everyday you notice, and you turn to the sun, with gratitude.  

Do you know the sunflower theory? It's a lovely story, unscientific, but warmhearted fiction. Young sunflowers do indeed turn east daily, seeking the sun (heliotropism), but the story tells that at night, sunflowers will turn to face each other, seeking the sun in a partner. Although a winning metaphor for how to find solace in each other during dark times, it is fiction. 

But finding the light in your (northern or elsewhere) surroundings (and friends) no matter the circumstances? Or blooming where you're planted? Let's be honest: those notions seem rooted in reason, wise, and like sunflowers, down-to-earth. 

Things that deserve ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶n̶k̶ a discerning eye:

My oldest grandson L, (age 3) is smitten by colour... and I, in turn, am smitten by him (and his mind). 

Currently, he may not pay attention to every instruction or direction from us adults, but he's certainly paying attention to the beauty in this world. 

Thanks for the reminder, young sir. 

Wordfuse (Excessive Words Edition)

I like to make up words.

(noun) PS (PostScript) + ness = an occasionally sarcastic but mostly polite word/euphemism used to describe compulsive talkers, (myself included) who continue blathering on much longer than is necessary (post script after post script after...) but due to the ideal combination of speaker and listener the experience is mutually rewarding aka a total vibe. 

Think of those fun people with whom you just click like long lost friends but after 35 minutes of blathering in the grocery store you missed a meeting, an appointment, your kids' swim meet, your job, your newborn's birth, etc. On the flipside are those compulsive talkers with an appalling lack of self-awareness about their annoying verbosity aka talkaholism. 

Dear friends, how do you halt a talkaholic?