Things that deserve the stink-eye (in a good way):

kiwi fruit. Yum.

Bonus: when peeled one might say they're giving Dr. Seuss vibes. Despite this fair assessment, I will eat them in a box, I will eat them with a fox, I will eat them here or there, I will eat them everywhere... because they're delicious. Not-so-bonus: unpeeled...well you already know what they resemble. 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyhoo, I mention them because science says the exterior fuzz is just as nutritious as what's inside. 

Therefore, dear friends, as Dr. Seuss might put it, do you nosh them with the skin or does that make your stomach spin? 

To learn more about kiwi fruit please visit this entertaining YouTuber who shares the fruit's history (and takes a jab at a certain world leader, lol.) 

Canadian Mishap

zoomed in to said offending snowflake ;)

Curious to know a little known life-as-a-Canadian hazard?   

Choking on a snowflake. 

True story. 

Mishap occurs more than you'd think. I will never not recommend a brisk walk during a snowfall but if the wind(chill) is blowing a certain direction—the exact direction one must trudge to return home—well, dear friends, don't sing along with your ear pods or risk inhaling those adorable fluffy (damn) (killer) snowflakes. 

One more thing: if it weren't March this post would be unnecessary (even embarrassing) but it's time FOR THE MELT TO BEGIN. Sigh.

A quick reminder:

we all know some words are better left unsaid. Conversely, this adage suggests that some words are best said.

Precise language impacts worldview. Words influence action. So, dear friends, what if you and I—at some point today—released this word like a balloon into this sorry world? 

It certainly couldn't hurt, could it? 

Makers

im-peck-able design :)

Recently, I enjoyed a few hours playing with my middle granddaughter, I. Considering she has a new baby brother, she loved the undivided attention. And me? Also a total boost. 

She has the cutest bedroom; last summer I helped her Mom paint it pink and white. Her Auntie painted big yellow flowers along one wall. Her room is big, with ample space for toys. Although I will always be a fan of big cardboard boxes, stones, and crayons, some modern toys exhibit impressive design. I's miniature A-frame cabin—it has a tiny glowing campfire next to it—ha, I played with its sound effects more than she did! And of course she has a big bookshelf with her Mom's childhood rocking chair next to it. We spent most of our time reading aloud: she brought me book after book after book—this is classic playtime with I. 

But my favourite of her toys? A knitted chick. Imagine the person who created this?! How could you be sad or anxious with this little friend?  

Let's take a moment today for people who make things: artists, creators, composers, cake-decorators, all types of creatives—their skills, their imaginations, their hands. In these modern times of tearing-down, remember and celebrate the people who make things: they empower us, they comfort us, they inspire us. 

Markus Zusak said, "I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate." Sad but true, eh? Let's be honest though: the greater skill is to make something that de-escalates this impulse. 

Dear friends, what do you make? Or which maker inspires you? 

Let's be honest:

Thanks, Chris
(for fries cooked in beef tallow,
 and for everything else too).

Everyone should know a guy who

a. knows a guy

b. knows a guy who knows a guy

c. knows how to make homemade French fries.

Dear friends, who's your guy? And what do they know?

Art

Dear friends, I hope you already know that a sketchbook can change your life. 

Because a sketchbook is your very own secret laboratory. Or workshop, or garage. It's your office—perhaps the one you prefer to visit. It's a forge, a factory, a shop. You can lose yourself there, time will disappear, the work is "all." Things will happen and you will begin to see the world anew. 

Some cautions though: a sketchbook is not about perfecting or producing something. Unless you want one, there's no clapping nor silent audience. And it's definitely not (all) about your so-called artistic skills. It's not about good or bad, right or wrong.

Defer judgment. Discontinue criticism. Suspend doubt. Waive embarrassment. Slow down. Think. Observe. Record. Stop verbalizing. Quiet. Calm. Think. Move the dialogue inside. Or silence it. Because, here's the truth: you must must must destroy the gatekeepers of your imagination. 

So, draw. Depict. Experience. Scribble. Write. Paint. Smush. Paste. Cut. Journal. Quote. Recipe. Smudge. Doodle. List. Strikethrough. Ask your questions. Reflect. Swear. Remember. Forget. Free yourself. Experiment. Create. Whatever. Just (verb-intended) art. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

"Illegitimi non carborundum."

 Um, why is this printer so rude? 

I have this temporary teaching gig and I'm love, love, loving it. But the printers? They're conspiring against me. I did the HR courses; I know this is low-key harassment. I mean you can't just threaten me with a papercut and call me an MF! 🤯

Indeed, I print too much but it's for EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES you copier gate-keepers. I'm not peddling microplastics or printing guns...I'm trying to prepare pre-service teachers to love teaching and create art and celebrate student self-expression and make a difference in the world...but those persnickety printers? Let's be honest: they've made it xerockward, haven't they? 

Let's be honest

Thanks to a childhood filled with sci-fi/horror books and movies, I am especially intrigued by this "lab" situated near my new temporary office. Sure, my cerebral cortex is like calm down, but also DANGER. And those frosted windows? They certainly add to the potential for an "outbreak" of some design.  

Let's be honest: laboratory is a synonym for a fraught 48 hours from an home-made asylum. Yikes. Remember The Fly (1986)?! (Don't google it.) Hence, that's why I would LOVE to visit this room! Because, mystery. Because, curious. Because pea-brain. 

Dear friends, what in the amygdala do you think's going on in there? 😕😁

?

Um, a snowman...or perhaps a (one-eyed) snow-golfer? 😁

Whatever it is, I love it because I love it when creators resist a huge detriment to their art-making: overthinking.  

Dear friends, what do you think? I glimpse an curious and unusual story here, both in its composition and in its substance. 

Is this good? Who cares? It captured my attention plus it simultaneously disturbed me and made me laugh. That's what art should do. 

Bonus: it also hints there are others out there who might also be losing their minds about the unending snow. Art is always a good way to cope. 

Enthusiasm Fading

Is there any better painter than nature—the way she handily utilizes white? Yet my characteristic awe...it's waning.  

Much chatter about nature here. The snow continues. It's relentless. Where else can we put it? It's everyone's new part-time job. It's like the annoying wannabe bully from Junior High. Could you go somewhere else? However, longing for needed moisture, we respect it...yet we're all studying our roofs with anxious eyes. Some of our neighbours are worse off than us. 😟

Nevertheless,  my spouse and I cleared a section of snow on our roof today. Our home was built to withstand snow. It has an interesting history I should share someday but here's the gist: transported to our community from Canada's Northwest Territories (Great Slave Lake) in the late 80s (then refurbished and remodeled), it's built for the Canadian North. And it's bones? Sturdy. More sturdy than us, in fact....

To ensure good air quality and ventilation, we used a rake style snow shovel and cleared a section above our kitchen and bathrooms. Why? Our vents were under 4-5 feet of snow! The last time we did this, we were 20 years younger! I stood on the ladder and raked snow from the roof while my wife shoveled the snow as it came down. At one point, my pants creeped uncomfortably low so my wife pulled them up for me. 😆 What can I say? We're an unfailing team, and it seems, a part-time spectacle. 

Dear friends, I will never not be inspired by nature's painterly hand, but she's drunk and needs to "brush" off. 😉