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. 

1/8

Meanwhile in Saskatchewan 👊

You know that joke about Saskatchewan, right? Easy to draw, hard to spell. 😜 

But harvest-time on the prairies? Growing and gathering food for the world? No joke. 1 in 8 Canadian jobs are connected to agriculture and the agri-food sector. Dear friends, have you thanked a farmer lately?

Things that deserve your 𝚜̶𝚝̶𝚒̶𝚗̶𝚔̶ eye:

Caption: "You'll be kept awake during the operation." 
As a Scot I prefer to see this as a compliment, lol. 

Many people are quick to comment that they can't even draw stickmen. As I've said before: bullstick.

Meet Edward Steed, a singular cartoonist who is somehow simultaneously disturbing and hilarious. Plus his story offers a blueprint for how to live a fuller life. 

And with all due respect to his signature drawing style (I'm a fan), even he says this about his process: "It’s quite a bit of thinking and then a small amount of drawing.” In fact, he revealed in an interview that he didn't begin drawing seriously until he saw an ad seeking a cartoonist for The New Yorker!  Since landing that job, he also says he's starting to enjoy drawing more. 😀 Dude's got gumption.

Dear friends, this should remind us it's not too late. Perception becomes reality, often without evidence, and so if you think you can't draw stickmen (or whatever), well so what? Be a kid again and draw. Why not be a bit delusional? Put your work in someone's lunch kit. Post it online. Hang it on your fridge. The drawing process enhances memory, relieves stress, and acts like meditation no matter what ends up on the page. And if it's not drawing, do that something else that would fill your cup. 

September Strawberries

We have a little patch of resilient strawberries. Although a small section didn't survive last Winter, those remaining spread. Typically they produce only a few handfuls of medium-sized berries throughout the summer, but in September? They surge. 

For this and other obvious reasons, I love our little plot of strawberries, a special variety. The rest of our garden does the heavy lifting, sustaining us with carrots and beets and turnips and (so many) tomatoes and squash, but these strawberries contribute too, especially now, sensing temperature and light changes...they know winter is approaching, inevitable.  

In Canada, winter is a promise, a hardened oath. So, we must prepare.  

Especially now, we Canadians are like these September strawberries. We rally. Unlike other strawberry gardens, yes, we are fewer with fewer resources, but don't count on us to wither away. These harsh and conniving winds? Along with the entire world, we expect them now, but remember, we are September strawberries: hardy, built (and building) to withstand—we're nasty like that. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Yes

Ta-da!

Some reports claim that a toddler hears the word no more than 400 times daily. Hmm. I have no problem with the word no. It's necessary. Think consent, boundaries, safety, logic, discipline.... 

Yet, regarding the default (and potential) overuse of no, here's to using language intentionally to provide a possible solution: a yes space. These are spaces, places, zones, and situations where children are encouraged to (safely) be independent, less restricted, and make their own choices—spaces where they will rarely hear no.

So when I spotted a vintage elementary school desk in a thrift store recently, I thought of my grandkids, and bought that solid-wood gem for a mere $15. Although it had no structural issues or damage, I spent a weekend refinishing it (sanding sanding sanding), restoring it to raw wood followed by three coats of a child-safe water-based finish (more sandings between each). However, I did leave the marker scribbles under the desktop. As with any of the many furniture pieces I've refinished over three decades, my aim is never to erase its history, only extend it.

She won't turn three until Winter, so my middle granddaughter (I) has several years until she starts school, but I knew this desk was perfect for her. She has a new brother, and although he's crawling now, he's not quite yet a playmate, so she continues to be engaged in and content with imaginative self-directed play. She loves flat surfaces where she can arrange her toys ("guys") to tell stories, pretend to cook for her customers, read her books, draw and write. Typically whenever she creates something, she remarks, "Ta-Da!" 😍Plus, her parents tell me she also now prefers to eat her lunch at her desk, ha. And if she marks it up or spills paint or whatever, I say yes, yes, yes. Let this desk be a part of her child wonder-factory, her yes space. 

Dear friends, did you grow up with yes spaces? 

Be like cats.

Still contemplating woolgathering, so when I noticed this patch of sunlight on my dining room floor, I thought of cats and how they will always find the sun and sleep. 

Cats don't need to be convinced but science says that 10+ minutes of sunlight exposure (especially outside, in the morning) has significant impacts on human mental health and well-being. Dear friends, why not sit in the sun or (better yet), lie down on the floor while woolgathering? We should be more like cats. Right? 

One more thing, a question; I'm stumped. But first, some context: I thought there must be a name for this cat-attracting "chunk" of a sunbeam. You know, a word that sort of means the opposite of a shadow. Or a technical word, something like "sneckdown" for example. The Internet must know, right? But nope.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered an uncharacteristic cyberspace void in this regard. Reluctantly, I asked AI (aka paste pudding, thank you Ray Bradbury): "There is no single, official one-word English noun exclusively for the bright shape cast on a floor by sunlight through a window, so people rely on descriptive phrases."

Well well well, you know I love to invent words so let's all remove our leashes and let our minds wander, shall we? Ha, here we go a-woolgathering....

What do you call the patch of sunlight on the floor? Or how would you describe it? Or...do you think any of my spitballs stick? 

• sun spot
• sun site
• sun puddle
• sun blanket
• sun throw
• sun haven
• sun oasis
• sun setting
• sun nook (s'nook) 🙌
• splace (sunny + place) 🤦

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.