All of the above.

I'm pretty sure the dust bunny my wife and I found under the dresser in our bedroom

a. was mere weeks away from sprouting legs.
b. has something to do with Donald Trump.
c. is the same shape as Pluto's heart! Aww. (aka pareidolia).
d. needs a coffee, STAT.

Superstitions?

According to all reliable sources, here’s the proof:

     1.    Superstitions come in threes.

     2.    Especially when you walk under a ladder.

     3.    Even worse on Friday the 13^th.

     4.    But, knock on wood, there is a solution:

     5.    Eat an apple; it keeps the doctor away.

     6.    However, it’s unclear which type of doctor: my hope is that it refers to plastic surgeons.

     7.    Speaking of distorted faces, go ahead and drop a mirror. Why? Who needs luck for the better part of a decade? Kidding…the number seven is lucky so mirror-tossing actually has a reverse effect. Boom.

8.    All four-leaf clovers are stored at the end of the rainbow.

9.    When black cats cross your path don’t look away in fear or you will miss the chickens on their backs: that’s how they cross the road. Fingers crossed. (Side-note: sometimes they step on cracks. Sorry Moms.)

10. Itchy palms mean forthcoming mail related to money, sometimes debits, sometimes credits, or maybe the phone is going to ring or maybe your ears will ring because someone mentioned you on social media. (This one’s still confusing to me because I don’t have Facebook.)

11. Find a penny, pick it up, all day long, you’ll have a penny. Uh oh…this only works outside of Canada.

12. Every sixth Friday at dawn, animals can talk. (A cat told me this.)

13. Problems are easy to solve if you’re an idiot, am I right?

You might be thinking: what is all this horseshoe? Sorry for all the silliness. What motivates superstitions? Why do we humans think and do all these irrational things? Psychologists relate this behavior to the “uncertainty hypothesis.” This is the idea that when people are unsure about the outcome of a situation, they try to find a way to control it. These control-methods may be odd. Nevertheless, they sometimes provide the mental boost needed to trick ourselves into perseverance mode so we can push through fear of the unknown. Or here’s another way to deal: just think rationally. Um, not so easy for us humans, is it? So friends...keep stepping on spiders and throwing salt if you need to. Either way, something will happen. 

Things one should never outgrow:

noticing when nature seems to pose.

"Leave nothing but footprints. Take nothing but pictures. Kill nothing but time." -unknown

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

painting mishaps. And this was my favourite screwdriver. Every guy has a favourite screwdriver, right?

Blink

I've been struggling to write. And to read. Begin my July projects. Master something. Create something new. Relax. It's the starting. The struggle is to start. I keep dismissing the start. I'm doing it again right now.

I have no more and no less hours each day than every other person on Earth. So what's the deal? Starting. Starting is the problem.

Above my desk is a sticky note, a reminder: after a devastating stroke, Jean-Dominique Bauby wrote his memoirs using only his left eye. Blink after blink. Wow. Considering this, how could I possibly whine for one more second?

And yet, I still can't start. I think it's doubt. Honestly. Self-doubt. Does everyone forget sometimes how to start? I was surprised when I found myself in the kitchen today to cook. There was a time when I cooked every night but I can't recall, before today, the last thing I cooked.

I made rice. I chopped onions. I toasted peanuts. I made a salad dressing. Added together, they made a meal. I guess that's something at least.

Recently my wife gave me a leather-bound journal. It's a beautiful thing to someone like me. The paper is hand-made, the binding hand-stitched. A note inside from the artist suggests using the book as "my personal book of wisdom." I like that idea. I'd like to draw in it too. And yet, I can't start. And I'm worried I will somehow ruin it.

There's that self-doubt again.

Like Bauby, I must figure out how to begin again. What other choice is there? And I will choose. I know I will. One blink at a time. I just did. I guess that's something.

Things that deserve the stink-nose:

I know a guy who needs this so I bought it for him.

Don't ask. (But oh the stories I could tell.)

Canada Day?

Posing with a tourist not long before he was
killed here in Ottawa last October.

Canada day this year? In my opinion, there are only two words: Nathan Cirillo. He was 24 years old and literally, Nathan stood on guard for thee.