No more than 12/hr.

I purchased this card (by Eat Haggis)
in Scotland this summer. :)

Home. 'Tis not so sweet for some. Sigh. But my home? The sweetest. My (long) weekend plans include 

a) nothing
b) nothing
c) nothing
d) all of the above. 

Despite the relief of no real plans, sadly, here in northwestern Alberta, it's raining, with snow forecast tonight. Sigh. So what better weekend to stay hame sweet hame?

If you noticed, I sighed twice in this post thus far. Fun (?) fact: science says that although excessive sighing is a worrisome well-being indicator, on average, we humans still sigh every 5 minutes, or 12 sighs per hour. 

That many?! I had no idea. 

And why do we sigh? It's a response to anxiety and stress. But apparently typical sighing is connected to optimum lung health and acts as a nervous system reset. Although we are encouraged to seize the day, it seems our bodies are designed to seize the peace. I like that. 

Dear friends, whether you're home or not this weekend and whatever the weather, I wish for you some contentment. In other words, slow down: no more than twelve sighs an hour. 

All Along

I'm no scientist, but I've long known there's an abundance of lessons (and solace) among the trees. Only recently though did I learn that leaves don't really change colours as Autumn progresses; more accurately, they unveil themselves. 

We all likely learned some of this in elementary school: in Spring and Summer, abundant sunlight and heat enables leaves to create the nutrients trees need to survive and thrive. Leaves absorb the light for photosynthesis to occur in cells containing green-pigmented chlorophyll...but did you know that this pigment masks other pigments already within leaves?

During Autumn, daylight decreases and temperatures drop, signaling plants to form a kind of cork between leaf and stem and as leaves die, chlorophyll breaks down, the green pigment disappears, and other pigments are revealed: yellow, orange and red—those beguiling Fall colors.

Think about that: the colours were there all along. 

There's something altogether reassuring about this. Perhaps there's much more within us humans too? More resilience? Untapped hidden potential? Some of the answers we seek elsewhere? I'd like to think more likely than not. 

Poet Mary Oliver also felt more likely than not. In her poem, "When I am Among the Trees," she describes herself returning to the forest, her sun-dappled and comforting first love, just listening. And although she feels "distant from the hope of myself," the surrounding trees invite her to "stay a while." They say," “It’s simple...you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”

Dear friends, if you too are preoccupied with life's seasons or some other matters and needed a boost today, I hope something helpful is revealed here. If not, go to the forest. 

Whose hands?

Do yourself a favour and add
The Muppet Thought of the Week
YouTube channel to your life. 

A good friend and I were texting about her artwork. She was mired in that inevitable-for-creatives Lynda Barry 2-Question loop: Is this good? Does it suck? Curious, she uploaded a photo to get AI's assessment.... 

With all the nuance of a stapler, AI concluded it was "not a famous artwork." 

As you can see from the screenshot, I joked that AI is most certainly an unreliable narrator, and yes, I implied it: an inferior Muppet. Let's be honest about AI: who knows whose hand is shoved up in there?  

But upon reflection (yes, this is what my brain burns glucose doing), I shouldn't have picked on Animal, who is actually quite an endearing Muppet to me, sort of a furry characterization of the id. I mean, he loves a good time and he drums with passion—he's a beast. (Sorry.) No, AI is a different Muppet.... 

Now, if you're not Gen X, nor (oddly) is 6% of your brain (like mine) absolutely devoted to Muppets characters, you may have already left to mow your lawn, or whatever, but if you're still with me, I'm almost there. 

A better Muppet to represent AI is Captain Link Hogthrob, of Pigs in Space fame. Why? Well...Hogthrob is a smug, self-serving, one-dimensional fool, but somehow remains "qualified" to be captain of the ship, similar to how AI is now steering this ship we call life. Yikes. 

To explain further, let's consider AI's qualifications. Can it boost human innovation? Yes. Can it help us solve problems? Yes. Is it wise? No. It has never lived—it is indifferent to life; for us passengers on this ship, it couldn't care less. And if it does develop a sort of wisdom, then whose? 

Dear friends, like Hogthrob and "leaders" of similar ilk, AI is untrustworthy and therefore unfit to captain our lives. So, whether you're pro AI or not, shouldn't we regulate its (inevitable) role in everything, and monitor the "hands" behind it, especially those already profiting from it? Ha, Kermit would agree that we're moving too fast. 

How to say it?

Apparently, you can buy these
stickers, lol. I miss Betty. 

I'm still thinking about emojis* and their role in our lives, so when I teased a friend via text recently and she responded with🖕I laughed—a bit surprised by her cheeky ambush mic-drop of an emoji. I countered with a fist bump, a sign of respect for her comic timing. But what did I actually appreciate about our exchange? It provided a good laugh. Who doesn't need that?

With that in mind, a thought for today: here's to giving the finger. 

Some might (understandably) frown—this is not exactly a "gift" one should "give" recklessly, emoji or otherwise. But consider this example: when I first visited my brother in the hospital soon after he shared his terminal cancer diagnosis, this was what I noticed immediately. That laugh was a most welcome way to begin that visit and that conversation. Although that "finger" didn't cure my brother's cancer, the environment felt better, safer, less severe. 

Sometimes the finger says it so well. Better than anything else. But why is that? It's science. 

Giving the finger (or saying the words) can decrease pain. And although the science is less conclusive, witnessing someone giving the finger may provide secondary catharsis, decreasing stress as it activates mirror neurons that boost feelings of empathy, shared justice, and social connectedness. Sudden thought: imagine attending some team-building session where the finger is employed to empower all participants! Attention workshop leaders: I think I'd find the novelty of that hilarious. (I dare you.)

Dear friends, these days we often feel so powerless in a world that can feel doom-y, a world where it sometimes takes too much energy to resist the bleak. Permission (for those who might need it) to use science to boost your nervous system today. 🖕😀

*Update: AC and one of his followers explained how to use the Genmoji function (iPhones) to create your own emoji. Thanks—I immediately made an orange shirt emoji. Solved. 

Here we are, sigh.

I was watching an interview a few days ago and the subject turned to the camera and said, "Start being chalant." What? Honestly the interview was insignificant background noise and I was barely paying attention, but that statement? I heard that. 

Sorry if it's difficult to read this screenshot featuring late September google trends. Data reveals that over the past month, Canadian's online use of the word chalant has increased 550% and 250% over the last year. I was not aware that chalant was a word, but nonchalant certainly is, so I gather there's a curious upswing in language encouraging all of us (understandably) world-weary folks to shake off our apathy, resignation, or hopelessness and... what? Get involved? Do something? Care? 

If that sounds like a NOPE to you, who could blame you? So imagine being an Albertan right now....

On October 19, in the beautiful, enterprising, and prosperous province of Alberta (Canada), we will be voting in a referendum that (almost) no one asked for, and for those who would disagree with this assertion, I say that this "referendumb-and-dumber" (as one clever Albertan comedian describes it) could have at least waited until we had a general election. And don't even get me started on the millions spent on this political stunt. But here we are. 

Sure, when I say no one asked for this, I must clarify that our government did have a series of town halls last summer so an (invited/stacked) panel could "listen" (er kowtow) to (30% of) Albertans and use that "data" to develop new policy (advance the narrative manufactured at their party's annual general meeting beforehand). Yes, some dissenters were able to attended these town halls but when they spoke against the panel's obvious scapegoating and bias, they were labeled disruptors (and I kid you not) one high school student's mic was cut and he was told by the panel moderator he should be spanked. 

Cut from this shitstew to the one currently brewing regarding the TEN (I am not kidding) questions borne from those town halls, questions that many say are problematic (confusingly verbose) all the way to racist and illegal. Spoiler: it's all of the above. 

Nevertheless our provincial government says this will provide the mandate for subsequent immigration policy and independence from Canada. The most contentious question is this: should Alberta remain a province of Canada, or begin legal proceedings to separate and become independent from Canada? (Note: I have condensed it to 18 words; the actual question has 37, sigh). 

Polls continue to say that over 70% of Albertans do not want to become an independent country. But what about the 30%? Led by outspoken prominent (crooked) separatists/lobbyists (who meet and talk money with US officials connected to the expired cantaloupe himself), they spread mis/disinformation to radicalize and fundraise off disgruntled Albertans (some of whom have legitimate beefs about federal government policy). In a short video, this Albertan explains it all soooo well.

Anyway it's time to apologize for this post. You see (cleansing breath), everything within me wants to be nonchalant about this situation. But I cannot. If I (and my neighbours) don't get off the couch and VOTE for Canada... well you know where this is going and *looks side-eye at the world* you know this isn't just in Alberta, is it? 

Dear friends, I would love for you to now flush this entire post from your mind but please retain the ONE IMPORTANT IDEA I hope continues to trend, the word/the act that might just save us all: be chalant. 

Make it easier.

I'm wearing my orange shirt today. But...where is the orange shirt emoji? 

In fact, where are all the Indigenous-themed emojis? Why is Indigenous culture so underrepresented? My phone allows me to choose a feather or a turtle. All good, but I'm speaking to an overt, observable, and official signifier. Like the Inuksuk or the Metis flag for example? And most definitely an orange shirt?

I recognize that using an emoji is not exactly the utmost form of allyship. For some it would seem performative. No, regarding Canada's dark history of residential schools and that legacy, an emoji isn't reparation. But apparently 92% of the world's texters use them: emojis are part of everyday life, ubiquitous to communication. This is a simple way to demonstrate unity. 

Full disclosure: I'm not Indigenous. So maybe Indigenous folks are already working on this? But how are emoji's made? And who approves them? Research led me to the Unicode Organization. If you're curious, this video (5 mins) provides some answers, but I still wonder: are they makers or gatekeepers? 

Orange Shirt Day askes us to acknowledge, learn, and continue to take action. Let's make that easier. 

Sit with the....

source

So I happened upon this clever cartoon, one I've seen before, and it got me thunk: are people blogging again?

Hmm. And then I wondered, why am I blogging again? 

It invites me to create, to practice this craft. It's exercise for my mind. It's a journal: part timeline, part lifeline. I also have more time. But moreover, I appreciate this community: I love that in 2026 there are still people in the world marveling at everyday life, people who are (mostly) flinging benevolence into the web instead of what we all know social media is flinging dumping for clicks and likes and follows and coin and all things (mostly) nefarious. In this lunchroom called life, I want to sit with the bloggers. 

But is there another reason? 

I started in 2010, so I remember the blogging heydays. This source provides an interesting blogging history referring to its "golden age" as 2005-2012, greatly disrupted from 2010-2016 when (bingo) social media platforms flooded cyberspace. It seems to me we've all been immersed in (and afflicted by) that haze for years. But what about now? 

Well, dear friends, AI says (irony forthcoming) folks are blogging again because we're "tired of generic, AI-generated text and short-form social media noise, creating a demand for authentic human perspective." In this instance, AI, you are indeed correct, but I still don't want to sit at your table. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Things one should never outgrow:

playing Picasso face, ha. 

Every day children teach us (if we're paying attention) that there are often other ways to utilize objects than their intended design might suggest. Who says Magna-tiles are more about engineering than the arts? My oldest grandson L demonstrates that like all well-designed toys, they are both STEM and STEAM.  

There's a name for this limiting thinking habit: functional fixedness. You know— stuck thinking or perhaps fast vs slow thinking. We all do this. Taylorism and assembly-line thinking is inherent in many systems. In the name of efficiency and productivity, education sometimes teaches us to see (tidy) categories instead of (messy) spectrums. But those spectrums? That's where the imagination goes jet-skiing. 

This is what I love about us humans: for every brilliant monomath along comes a playful polymath from left field. Let's be honest, you know a guy, don't you? Like this guy. 😂 Everyone knows this guy. Or consider *mic drop* this gal. 

I've been a stuck thinker more times than not, but I'm also the guy who once made a hornet sword when I could have simply bought some wasp spray. Efficient? Um, it worked (temporarily), but here's the thing: it was 100% more FUN! 

Dear friends, do you play Picasso face, aka are you a part-time MacGyver, aka how do you avoid functional fixedness? 

Ding Dong

Take 2...not bad...but many iterations to follow.

When my son's fiancé asked me to make their wedding cake, I did not hesitate, "Nope. No thanks. No. Nah. 😕😕😕 Certainly not. Nuh uh. : / I cannot. Are you serious? I reject this premise. Sorry. Noooo sir-ee."  

Then she explained that it wasn't a cake for the guests but a heart-shaped one they would cut for photos and share with each other on their wedding day. 

"Ohhhhhh... uhhhh.... noooo.... welllll... your wedding is a year away, so.... [cut to Brittany Broski tasting kombucha for the first time meme, lol]." Creatives gotta create and I do like a baking challenge: see evidence here, here, here, here, or (ha) here. 

But what kind of cake? They said I could decide but it should be some version of chocolate (like my cupcakes). So I did some research AND THAT'S WHEN I DISCOVERED THE PERFECT CAKE AKA a DING-DONG CAKE. I will let you google that. Two words: ermine frosting. 🤯Whoa! You're welcome. 

But what makes this cake so perfect? Well well, I have been calling my son a ding-dong since he was a toddler (among others things). The inside joke value here is basically five stars, amirite?! (I fully acknowledge and respect that you may be neutral or only mildly amused by this nonsense while I laugh with abandon at what is likely only hilarious to me). Anyway...

It tastes AMAZING. They LOVE it. One problem: *record scratch* now I have to figure out how to decorate a wedding cake. *deep sigh* Okay, yes, I sound like a big baby. Anyway, dear friends, if you have any cake-decorating tips or tricks, do tell, because (to use an accurate nickname) noob. 😉

Something Bigger

"No man can put a chain about the ankle of
his fellow man without at last finding the
other end fastened about his own neck."
Frederick Douglass (1883)

Last Friday, I received these witty vintage buttons and this fine postcard from a fellow blogger. Many weeks ago, she posted about the buttons, and offered to mail them to fellow bloggers. So friendly of her (and completely unnecessary). I love them. And I love her blog, especially for her book reviews, her humour, and her Friday Randomness. 

Across our countries, I estimate J and I live about 3000 kilometers (1800 miles) apart. Throughout my life as a Canadian, I've counted Americans as my friends, my colleagues, my neighbours and I've viewed America as sort of like my rich, famous step-brother, ha. My Dad had deep respect for Americans and loved visiting the US. If he were still alive, I suspect he'd be angry and confused by our current political rift but he would also likely consider it temporary. My fingers will always be crossed for that wish. 

Despite what's changed, I think J's neighbourly gift says something important about being a part of the blogging community: it's borderless. Yet her gesture also says something else. Something bigger. Note the three references in this gift. 

First, J may remember I recently wrote about encountering a Frederick Douglass statue in Belfast. He's one of my favourite Americans, yet his passion for literacy/reading/writing/arts (particularly photography) is something J and I both love as well. As they say, friends have common interests. 

Second, consider what George Orwell teaches about friendship in his (perpetually relevant) magnum opus, 1984. The novel's totalitarian state undermines authentic friendship, relegating it instead to "comradeship" to ensure that loyalty is first and foremost to the Party. Hmm, something about this sounds very familiar in 2026. Sigh. 

Third, what did Emily Dickinson say about friendship? In a personal letter she writes, "my friends are my estate." Now that's a legacy. 

Dear J, I'm sending you something in return. Because, friendship. Despite everything, cheers to ours and to the world's.