Do something …

I was reading a piece about Alyssa Milano in Sunday’s New York Times and came across this quote, which I love: “Each day is a blank canvas…go and make some marks.” I so agree.

In this particular instance, it’s related to Milano’s political activism. But I think the sentiment — or call to action — can be applied to anything. We no longer live in a world where it’s okay to just “be.” We do have to get involved, to participate, to do something for the greater good, to make our mark. How we choose to do it is up to us.

Given the state of politics globally, being an activist may be the first thought that pops into your mind, it’s

Giving myself an A in suck-it-up-and-go-anyway …

Some background: Late last year, I subscribed to a five-film series of documentaries (Doc Soup Sundays) followed by a discussion. The screenings are once a month at 11 a.m. on Sunday mornings.

Some more background: Last Saturday night I went out for dinner with friends. I made the mistake of having a cup of coffee after dinner. It’s never been a problem before, so I didn’t know it was a mistake until I was up all night.

This brings us to last Sunday morning, after a mostly sleepless night. It was after 2 am when I finally dozed off and I was up again before 5. The little sleep I did get was, sadly, not the glorious, deep, coma-like, dream-inducing sleep from which one awakes somewhat dazed, confused and refreshed. Instead, I

What an absolute crock …

I’ve spent my entire career in advertising, as a writer and creative director. So if anyone can’t stand ads that are all bumpf and advertisers who talk to themselves it’s me. But in the case of this particular ad, which appeared on the back page of the Business Section in last Sunday’s New York Times (following lyft’s IPO last Friday), it’s even worse than that.

This time it’s personal.

After resisting ride-hailing companies, which is what lyft, Uber and some others are, I finally caved in. My

If at first you don’t succeed …

There was a lovely story in Sunday’s New York Times. I laughed out loud when I got to the part where the author wrote, “my mother used to track me down in the event of my untimely murder; lord knows she has imagined plenty of gruesome ends for me. I can’t tell you the number of times that public safety officers showed up on my doorstep in college because I hadn’t returned her calls swiftly enough.”

She could have been writing about my mother.

While she never went so far as to call the police, she did manage to convince a friend of mine to become a search party of one. She (my mother) was convinced — because I’d been working late and was alone in the office — that I’d either been attacked, killed and shoved into the coat closet or was lying helpless, bloody and injured at the bottom of the elevator shaft, the result of an accident involving snapped cables. Yes,

Creature of habit

I really have no idea what made me think of this particular topic, but once I did, I really got into it and decided to take a closer look at myself. Turns out I have some pretty strange habits:

• Brush my teeth before washing my face.
• Shower before brushing my teeth.
• Eat the same breakfast every day — fresh fruit, plain greek yoghurt, honey, chopped walnuts and a bit of granola.
• Make the bed before having breakfast.
• Have breakfast before getting dressed.
• Dress in the same order — first bottom, then shoes, then watch, then top.
• Replace vitamins, shampoo, detergent, condiments etc. when I’m halfway through them.
• Take vitamins in the same order.
• Empty the bottom half of the dishwasher before the top.
• Read the Sunday New York Times in the same order — Style section, News, Arts, Sunday Business, Sunday Review, Travel, the Magazine and the Book Review last.

There’s no doubt in my mind there’s more. But I’m not sure I want to know.

Should I be admitting to any of this? Is it time for an intervention? Should I be seeking medical help? Do you feel like coming over to my apartment, throwing everything on the floor and mixing it all up so I’m forced to do it all in a different order (not that I’d blame you if you did, I’m tempted to do it myself)?

Okay, your turn now.

Who can relate?

I saw this in last Sunday’s New York Times. It made me laugh out loud and it was too good, and too funny, not to share. It was written by Julia Shiplett, who’s a comedian and writer. Tell me, how many of these excuses seem familiar. Come on, be honest.

The “Eating” illustration is by Rattle, available on Flickr,

Sorry, sorry, sorry …

The week just flew by. I’ve been drowning in deadlines lately, chained to my laptop, literally working my butt off, leaving me no time to even think about my blog, let alone write a blog post. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I’ve been  gratefully writing away.

But it does beg the question, why is it that life is always either a matter of feast or famine? All or nothing. Don’t give yourself a headache trying to come up with an answer, it’s a hypothetical question. I don’t think there is an answer.

Anyway by about 3:00 p.m. on Sunday I was desperate
for a break. My brain was tired and aching, my eyes were

Inspiration, and a lesson, when you least expect it …

This isn’t the blog post I’d started to write for today. But a funny thing happened on my way to googling an article I’d read in the Sunday New York Times I wanted to include as a link. I found something else that stopped me in my tracks. I loved it so much I shelved the original idea (at least for now) and changed course.

I look forward to the Sunday Times all week . It is such a great read, just crammed with all sorts of interesting and

Different worlds …

Last week I was having an email conversation with someone I knew years ago in Montreal and have re-connected with on Facebook.

We started off talking about libraries. One thing led to another and libraries led to our shared love of books. Books led to e-books and e-books led to tech and tech led to cursive script, which led to future generations.

Trust me, it made sense. You had to be there.

First she told me about her granddaughter, who’s a junior in University, and all the techie equipment the school expects her to

Whatever happened to love at first sight?

I love reading the Sunday New York Times.  I look forward to it all week.  Sometimes it takes me the better part of the week to get through it all, but I read it from cover to cover.  Every section.  Well that’s not entirely true.  I don’t read the sports section. Occasionally I skim it, but I don’t even do that all the time.

What I never miss, though, are the wedding announcements.  Why, God only knows.  I don’t know any of the brides and grooms.  So why should I give a toss that they’re getting married, where they’re getting married, who their parents are or what any of
them do for a living.

But I do, it seems.

Does this mean I’m a real nosy parker?  A hopeless romantic?  Someone who needs a