My Top Moments of 2014

Instead of lamenting the passing of Old Man 2013 and - in obituary-like reverence - cataloging the top accomplishments he takes to his grave, I choose instead to celebrate what could be in 2014.

So here are a few of my Top Moments of 2014:

1. Bacon Found to be a Miracle Food. In 2014, a team of researchers from some University somewhere release compelling new evidence that bacon is a "miracle food" that lowers cholesterol, regulates blood pressure, prevents disease, and eliminates acne. Sadly, it remains unkosher.

2. Toronto Gets a New Mayor. Finally, (finally!) residents of Canada's biggest city get their act together in ousting their scandal-plagued incumbent Mayor and choosing their new one, Pinball Clemons. Within 6 weeks of election, he is already on his way to fulfilling his campaign promise of hugging everyone in the city.

3. Hollywood Apologizes for Delivery Man. A spokesperson for Hollywood explains that the remake never should have happened, given that the source film - Starbuck - was "quite excellent". Furthermore, having decided to film a remake, "Vince Vaughn should not have been cast in the titular role - we should have used Jason Segel instead, and the title of the film should have been given more thought". Finally, the spokesperson explained that "next time, we'll give Americans some credit for being able to read subtitles and leave well enough alone." 

4. The Maple Leafs are Named Toronto's Professional Sports Team of the Year. The Leafs, 2013/2014 Stanley Cup Champions, beat out the other 5 Toronto-based professional teams, all winners of their respective championships during the calendar year.

5. New Legislation Means Discourteous Drivers May Lose Their License. Drivers committing previously unpunishable offenses - like blocking the right-turn lane at a red light, and speeding up to prevent someone from merging into your lane - can now be charged with "being an asshole".

6. 50 is the New 25. What with the health benefits of bacon and all, public health officials release the shocking news that 50-year-olds are basically just entering their youthful prime. In related news, PEOPLE selects "All non-kosher 50-year-old-men" as their 'Sexiest Man Alive' for 2014.

7. Oakville Man and His Dad Share Long-Overdue Activity Day. In one of the most heart-warming news stories of the year, an Oakville man and his London-based father finally make the time to go out together for a day of kite-flying, fishing, and catch.

Note: While I recognize that the above 'moments' aren't all that likely, where's the sport in predicting things that we all know will probably happen? For example, I could have written #2 based on what I actually believe (see below), but where's the fun in that?

2. Toronto Gives Another Term to Incumbent Mayor. In a stunning upset, the underdog incumbent battles back against his mud-slinging opponents, winning over the hearts and minds of a majority of voters with his understated down-home pragmatism and 'high-road' tactics. One voter, explaining the city-wide rush of emotion that sweeps him back to power says "Everybody deserves a zillionth chance."

'Twas the Morning of Boxing Day

(With sincere apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

'Twas the morning of Boxing Day, when all through the land
The shoppers all lined up, Tim Horton's in hand.
Down side walks and parking lots crusted with ice,
In hopes that the retailers would give their best price.

Their children were there too, dragged from their beds,
With candy hangovers still clouding their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my hoodie,
Had just settled in queue, awaiting the booty.

When through the door of the store there arose such a din,
That the folks in the line pushed forward to get in.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Pressed my nose to the glass and pulled out my cash.

The last of the moon on the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a teenaged Store Manager, with eyes full of fear.

He unlocked the door, so lively and quick,
Then dove away from the mob, which was frantic and thick.
More rapid than eagles, in the people all came,
And they whistled, and shouted for door crashers by name!

"Now iPhones! Now iPads! Now, Cameras and Lenses!
And Juicers! Game Consoles! And TV Credenzas!
To the top of the shelf! To the back of the store!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away with some more!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the store-top the buyers all flew,
Seeking ever more stuff, and the Manager too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The stomping and stamping of each shopper's hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the ceiling collapsed and they all hit the ground.

There the Manager lay, amidst ceiling debris,
And his clothes were all tarnished with blood stains and pee.
A pile of smashed goods on his body, unsold,
He looked like a boxer, who had just been knocked cold!

His eyes-how they fluttered as softly he sighed!
His chest barely moving, nose bent to the side!
His droll little mouth with some spittle aflow,
And the pimples on his cheek looking whiter than snow.

The stump of a smart phone lay wedged in his teeth,
And the dust it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook as he convulsed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was no more than sixteen, an accomplished young elf.
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
When his eyes finally opened and he lifted his head,
I knew then for sure that he wasn't near dead.


He spoke not a word, as he lay there inert,
With shoppers around him, some also quite hurt.
But laying his finger aside of his nose,
He managed a nod, and finally he rose!

He staggered to his feet, to his staff gave a whistle,
And to him they all came like the down of a thistle.
And I heard him exclaim, ‘ere they fled with some wine,
"Good Boxing Day to all! Next year please shop online!"

Faye and Her Planner

Troy started his career in the late 80’s, around the same time as Faye.

Right from the beginning, for Troy, work was everything. When he was just starting out, he always made sure that he worked harder than others around him, worked longer hours than everyone else, and always put the utmost pride in his every task. For Faye, on the other hand, work was a means to an end. She got married young (to the love of her life), started a family early, and took work where she could in order to help pay the bills. She also took great pride in the execution of her various responsibilities (in work and outside of work), but for her a happy life was about surrounding yourself with friends and family and enjoying whatever came each and every day.

Troy’s path merged with Faye’s when he hired her in the late 90’s to be his Personal Assistant.

By this time, Troy was a mid-level mucky-muck in a major company that you’ve probably heard of. Faye was already working there and had built a reputation as a solid Assistant, so Troy felt very fortunate when she became available to him.

Being who he was, and being who she was, theirs was a very cordial, very professional relationship from the day she started working for him. And from day one, whenever Troy called her into his office, or took her to lunch, or (eventually) to his client appointments, she always carried a ragged brown leather day planner with “FAYE” stenciled in small, neat letters on the front.

Whenever Troy asked her for anything, Faye would open up her planner, thumb through the pages, and somehow find the information she needed to be able to get it for him. When he needed to remember something he had said in her presence – ANYTHING he had said in her presence – she’d dutifully search the planner and be able to remind him. When he needed a name, when he needed details about a person he was meeting, when he needed ANYTHING, her planner held all the answers.

Pretty soon, Troy became very dependent on Faye and her planner - and not just within the confines of his business life. When he needed to buy a gift for a loved one; when he needed to fill out medical forms with information about his health, age, weight, and diet; when he needed to recall what he wore at last year’s holiday party – Faye was always able to find the information in her brown leather sidekick.

As time passed, Troy found himself asking Faye not only for information but also for advice: Business advice, relationship advice, what to watch on television, what wine to buy for a party, what colour shoes to buy – Faye became the person he would go to on just about anything. And she’d always thumb through her planner’s pages before answering, as if it held all the secrets of Troy’s life.

Though Troy never caught even a glimpse of the planner’s pages (it never left Faye’s side), he came to rely on the brown leather book as much as he came to rely on Faye. To him, they were his “secret weapon” in work and in life. In fact, as he became busier, as he went from mid-level mucky muck to C-level mucky-muck, with less and less time for warm ‘hellos’ and pleasant exchanges with Faye in the morning and throughout the day, she and the planner almost became one and the same to him. It was as if they were a single business application, a valuable resource, a ‘thing’ that gave him an edge. Faye, the person, really meant little to him; but Faye and her planner, were indispensable assets.

He paid Faye well. He praised her work. He bragged to his colleagues about his secret weapon. And he thanked God every day that he had Faye and her planner on his side.

Until one morning, when he came into the office and found a short and simple resignation letter from Faye tucked under the lamp on his desk. “Time for me to go” was all it said.

As you can imagine, Troy was lost. He tried hard to find her so that he could urge her to come back, but he realized that he basically knew nothing about her. She had moved from the only address he had for her, and he had no other clues that he could use to follow her beyond that. He spent months looking. He missed appointments. He missed birthdays. He never felt prepared for anything.

When he realized that Faye and her planner were really gone, he finally switched his focus to trying to find a replacement for her. He interviewed hundreds of prospects, even hired a few of them, but no one came close to replacing what he had had with Faye and her planner.

A few years later, after having placed want ads in thousands of listings across the continent – ads pleading for Faye (and her planner) to come back to him – one of the ads must have found her. He came into the office one morning, the day of his birthday in fact, and found a neatly wrapped gift resting on his desk. The simple card attached to it said “To Troy. Happy birthday. Here’s my planner. I hope you find what you’re looking for in it.”

He tore open the wrapping paper, grateful to Faye for this final generous act. And sure enough, there sat the ragged brown leather day planner with “FAYE” stenciled on the front.

When he opened its cover, he saw that its pages, from start to finish, were completely blank. And he realized in that moment, with complete clarity, that they always had been. It wasn't the planner that had held all the secrets of Troy’s life, it had always been Faye who did.

Troy sat down in his chair and he cried for what he had lost.

The End.

MORAL (and clever pun, for those who didn't get my joke the other day): It's not Faye's Book that you should treasure; it's the friends with whom you share it that matter.

A Joke

A man went away on a business trip.

After the first day on the trip, he got back to the hotel and called his wife. When she answered, he asked: "How are things at home?"

The troubled voice at the other end of the phone alarmed him:"Well...the truth is that things aren't so good. Billy got in trouble at school today. Right in the middle of class, he stood up and started pantomiming that he was guzzling booze and driving a car. When his teacher told him to sit down, he said 'I'm the Mayor of Toronto and I can do what I want'. When the teacher sent him to the Principal's office for his outburst, he squeezed her backside as he left the classroom."

The man was stunned and said, "That doesn't sound like Billy. Can you put him on the phone please?"

But his wife said, "Wait, there's more. On the way to the Principal's office, he was apparently shouting how the school was out to get him and that he didn't do anything wrong, and when other kids ran out of the other classrooms to see what was going on, he yelled 'I'm the Mayor of Toronto you can't do this to me' and started spewing profanities and threatening them with violence."

"Wow," was all the man could say to that. "Get him on the phone right away I need to deal with this."

"I'm not done yet," she said. "The Principal told me that when he got to her office, Billy pulled a straw out of his pocket, shoved it into the back of his pants, and told her that it was his crack pipe. When she ordered him to sit down, he said 'You can't make me, I'm the Mayor of Toronto' and he started staggering around, ranting gibberish and gesticulating wildly. She finally had to call in the Librarian and the Gym Teacher to subdue him, and then called me at work and asked me to come get him."

"This is horrible," the man said, "I can't believe you had to deal with this while I'm away. What did you do?"

"I went into the school, of course. When I got to the office, Billy was sitting calmly and immediately apologized to me for his behavior. He said that he must have been in some kind of stupor and that he might have done some of the things that his teacher and the Principal said he did, but he couldn't remember. The Principal suspended him for a week and sent us home. When I took his arm to drag him out to the car, he started crying. He cried the whole way home, complaining about how the school was being so unfair to him and that he refused to stay away from school. 'They can't treat the Mayor of Toronto this way, they'll see!'"

"What did you do about all this?" the man asked. "Do you need me to talk to him?"

"Well... you can't, honey. Billy's not home. You see what I haven't told you yet is that he's in the hospital. They're keeping him overnight just to make sure he doesn't have Salmonella."

"Salmonella? Salmonella? What are you talking about? What does that have to do with his behavior?"

With a sob his wife answered, "When we got home, I was so mad at him that I sent him directly up to his room. A few minutes later I heard what sounded like high-pitched screaming. When I threw open his door, he was sitting on the floor eating the cat."

10 Fun Games You Can Play while Lying Awake at 3 AM

I thought I would use this morning's post to share some fun games you can play when you find yourself wide awake at 3 in the morning. Enjoy!

1. Don't Think About That! Start this game by conjuring up the least relaxing thing to think about, then try not to think about it. See how long you can keep it out of your head and then see if you can beat your record.

2. Wrong Number of Toes. In this fun and challenging game, see if you can count your toes without moving them and get a number other than 10. To win, the count has to feel real and - like I said - you have to convince yourself that you're counting the wrong number of toes. (If you've actually got more than 10 toes or fewer than 10 toes, adjust accordingly).

3. Anagram Mania. Pick a word, any word. See how many words you can form using only the letters in that word. Now try to find a different word that can be made into even more words. (E.g. In "insomnia" you can find words like "mansion", "moans", "mason", and "aims" - to name a few.)

4. Total Recall. (A variant of Don't Think About That!) Think about something that happened yesterday that really bugged you. Turn it over in your head again and again and again until you're sure you've hyper-analyzed every detail. Think about what you should have said or done differently. Think about what you will say or do differently next time the same situation arises. Consider what all of the possible implications might be and how they will likely play out. See how long you can keep this up (tip: repeatedly check the clock by your bedside to accurately track your time).

5. Sports Team Snakes and Ladders. Start at the number 1 and work your way up, trying to name each player on your favourite sports team's current roster who wears each sweater number. If you get stuck, slide all the way back to the beginning and start over. If you make it through the entire roster, now do an all-time list.

6. Comfort Zone. Assume a sleeping position. Ask yourself if you're comfortable enough to sleep in that position. See if another position might be more conducive to sleep. Try your back. Try your front. Try your side. Try moving up the bed. Try moving down the bed. Try moving side to side. Try adjusting your pillow, where it's placed, how you're lying on it, and/or how you're holding it. When you find a good position, try not to move while thinking about not moving.

7. Is She (or He) Really Sleeping? (This game is not recommended for those who sleep alone). Listen to the steady, peaceful breathing of your bed partner. Think about all the things she or he did to you during the day that are causing you to lay awake right now. Work up a good level of frustration and then see if you can disrupt her or his sleep without letting on that you're doing so intentionally. See how loud you can sigh. Try the glancing foot graze. Pull the sheets off of her or him. Score a point every time you make her or him mutter unintelligibly or roll over. Score two points if you wake her or him up. Score 5 points if you wake her or him up, cause her or him to make enough noise to seemingly wake you up, and then convince her or him that you're angry at her or him for doing so. When she or he falls back asleep, repeat.

8. Paranormal Activity - the Home Edition. Did your sheet just slide down the bed on its own? What was that creak? Is that really your bed partner lying next to you? If there was a video camera trained on your bed all night, what would it reveal in the morning? See if you can convince yourself that something supernatural is actually going on around you (tip: try doing this just as you're feeling relaxed enough to doze off - the effect can be incredible!)

9. Out of Body. See if you can force yourself into an out-of-body experience. Can you make yourself float to the ceiling of the room and look down on your prone body? Can you leave the house in an ethereal form? Does it count as lying awake if you're out of your body? Once you've mastered this, make sure to leave the television on at night so that your spirit has something to do while it's out.

10. Time Master. Look at the clock and wait for the minute to change. Count the seconds in your head and see if you can predict precisely when the minute changes again. See how accurate you can be. When you get good at doing minutes, try 10-minute increments. Now stop counting and see if you have developed an innate sense of the passage of time. Do this by waiting for a random amount of time without counting, and then guess what time it is. If you get it right, do it again for a longer period.

While many of these games may be challenging at first, practice makes perfect - so stick with it!

Good night.

The Plant in the Shiny Brown Pot (An American Thanksgiving Day Parable)

Once there was a plant.

The plant lived in a shiny brown pot on a glass coffee table in a family room not far from where you live.

The plant had a family of people who cared for it and sat with it on evenings and weekends watching television and playing games. The plant had a few plant friends as well: A cactus on the mantle, an African violet on a side table, and a potted ficus on the floor. They didn't talk much, but they took comfort in each other's company.

The plant's life was orderly and predictable and that's the way it liked it.

That's not to say that every day was exactly the same. There were times when a family member would spend an unexpected day at home, lying on the couch under a blanket. And other times when somebody would forget to open the blinds in the morning, shutting out the daylight longer than the plant wanted. And there were weeks when everybody would just stay home. And other weeks where no one would be around except a stranger who would come in once a day to care for the plants. But on the whole, things went as they should.

The plant's favourite time of day was late afternoon. That's when the family would one-by-one return home, the sun would be shining into the family room at just the right angle, and the plant would be given a cool, refreshing drink of water. The other plants never talked about it, but the plant knew they loved the late afternoon too; there was an air of contentment that would descend on the family room each day at that time.

Once a month, cleaning people would come into the house when the rest of the family was out. They'd dust the coffee table and the side table, wipe the mantle, and vacuum the floor. It was an exciting day for all of the plants because the cleaning people would move them to the side for a few minutes while they cleaned the surface they usually occupied, and then carefully move them back to where they were. Sometimes, they would even wipe their leaves and their pots.

One day the house exploded and the plant was lifted high into the sky on a wave of blistering heat.

In the few moments that its flight lasted, the plant saw many houses and cars and people it had never seen before, a distant forest, a park, a glass house full of other plants, and a vast sky that stretched over everything. It was scared, but it was also exhilarated to discover so much of the world around it.

Alas, the brief flight came to a painful end, the plant's pot shattered, all but a small portion of its precious soil was lost, and the plant lay on its side, cushioned only by a carpet of brown grass and fallen leaves and the soil beneath it. None of its plant friends were anywhere to be seen.

Then it started to lightly snow.

As the plant lay there, it was surprisingly content. It thought about all the days that the house had not exploded. It thought about the family who had cared for it for so long and the comfort of the other plants' silent companionship. It thought about how shiny its pot had been. It thought about the joy of late afternoons, the cool refreshing water it had so enjoyed, and the occasional tender cleansing wipe it received.  And it thought about how lucky it had been to see so much of the world, even if it was only for a moment. It quietly gave thanks for all of those things, and for having landed in such a nice place.

The End.

(Epilogue: Authorities would later determine that the house exploded because one of the cleaning people had accidentally turned on the gas stove while cleaning it and hadn't noticed the resulting leak. Fortunately, they had safely finished their cleaning and left the house before the explosion. The family was also spared because the explosion happened before they returned home for the day. Their insurance enabled them to quickly relocate and get back on their feet. They bought an electric stove for their new house and did all their own cleaning. Their prized houseplants were never recovered, so they bought some new ones).  

Take My Hyper-Competitiveness (h-c) Gene Test

For those of you who know me and the rest of my family (my children, my sisters, my parents), you might be surprised to hear that we are the most competitive family ever. Bar none. Unbeaten, unrivalled, unchallenged. The Gold Medal winners.

While you might expect that hyper-competitiveness tendencies are somehow tied to participation in sports, in this case we're talking about a family that is virtually devoid of anything resembling athletic prowess.

I have no doubt that the h-c gene comes from my father's side and has been passed on to my children through me: My wife and my mother don't exhibit this trait, or at least it's so muted in them that it's virtually undetectable when they're around the rest of us. I think all three of my sisters got it (but to be fair, I'm not sure about one of them - only she and her family can comment on that.)

Now, rather than continue on and try to convince you that we're the most hyper-competitive people in the universe, I instead offer you the following h-c gene test. Do you or your loved ones carry it? Can you beat my family's high score? Go ahead and try:

1. When you aren't getting good dice rolls in Risk and it seems like that's all your opponent is getting, do you:

a) Not even notice?

b) Chuckle about your bad luck and keep hoping for better?

c) Carefully explain that you are actually winning because you are following the better strategy, even if the dice are doing their best to conspire against you?

d) "Accidentally" bump the board so that the pieces are irreparably misplaced and the game must end?

e) Carefully slide your fingers under the board, flip it in the air, shout obscenities and stomp off?

f) Nobody plays Risk with me anymore because they know they can't beat me (although they'd tell you it's because of c), d), or e) above) 

2. As a parent, when you are playing a game with one or more of your children, do you:

a) Choose games that are age-appropriate, then make sure that your children experience a happy balance of winning and losing so they learn that both are okay?

b) Put an honest effort into every game you play so that your children learn that it's okay to lose if that's what happens (and it usually does) and that it feels great to win (if and when that ever happens, which it doesn't)?

c) Put an honest effort into every game you play so that your children learn that it's okay to lose, and then celebrate your victories by stabbing your index finger at them while shouting "in your face" repeatedly?

d) Cheat, if you have to, to win?

e) Win constantly, until the first time you lose (e.g. at Ping Pong), then immediately announce that you're now too old to play the game (e.g. Ping Pong) anymore and never play again?

f) None of my children will play games with me anymore because they know they can't beat me (although they'd tell you it's because of c), d), or e) above).

3. When your favourite sports team is in the midst of screwing up the game you're watching, do you:

a) Feel mildly disappointed, but think "We'll get 'em next time guys...way to go"?

b) Without waiting for the inevitable conclusion of the game, change the channel, go outside for a walk, go to bed, or otherwise remove yourself from the situation before you yell at someone who doesn't deserve it?

c) Yell at your spouse and/or kids if they happen to ask you how it's going, then find another way to justify your behaviour without admitting that it's just the frustration related to your team's failure?

d) Yell in fury at the screen, spouting profanity even if young children are present?

e) Throw things, including a tantrum?

f) I don't really have a favourite sports team anymore. And I won't until my former favourite sports team is competitive again, or my Doctor says it okay. 

4. When you and your spouse partner up to play Euchre against superior opponents (e.g. your brother and sister-in-law), and you're in the midst of a lengthy losing streak stretching back to a game you won only because you had 2 loner-hands that "coincidentally" appeared on both of your deals, do you:

a) Enjoy the game and the company, not worrying about inevitably extending the losing streak? ("We all win when we're having fun!")

b) Celebrate small moments during the game (like coming close to euchring your superior opponents, or almost getting a chance to call trump) and find solace in moral victories?

c) Inadvertently reveal what's in every hand you're dealt because you can't hide your growing anger at how bad your cards continue to be, or (very occasionally) your glee when they're good?

d) Blame the cards. I mean, actually accuse the cards - out loud - of choosing to be bad just for you and no one else.

e) When your fatigued opponents try to end the game so they can sleep at last, say in your best Clint Eastwood voice: "Nobody leaves until I get some f***ing cards"?

f) I don't play Euchre because it's mostly a game of luck and I'm the kind of person who would win every game if it was about strategy, but when there's luck involved it always seems to conspire against me. 

Scoring the Quiz

Give yourself 0 points for any a) answer, 1 point for any b) answer, 2 points for any c) answer, and so on up to e). For each f) answer, give yourself 1,000 points.

0-2                 You do not carry the h-c gene.
3-5                 The h-c gene is present, but you are a big enough person to suppress its impact.
5-16               The h-c gene is dominating your behaviour in unhealthy ways. Seek help.
1,000+           Thanks for taking the time to read my blog Daddy.