Who the hell did I give remote access to?

I was having problems with my Macbook Pro the other day. Painfully slow internet access, intermittent e-mail. Like millions of others, my days don't work without this technology.

Huffpo – Make me or Break me

Ever since the Huffington Post invited me to spend my precious unpaid time writing for them, no guarantee of publication, my life has been thrown into a tailspin.

Hola Cuba!

I was told by a friend once, after writing a piece about Las Vegas, a place she loves and has been to many times, that it was a downer and depressing and she was sorry I had such a shit time. In fact I had a great time. It’s just Las Vegas is a tough place, a barometer for the US economy that packs so many of the excesses, realities and myths of America into a few bright, shiny, crumbling, over-hydrated miles in the desert. I guess I’m drawn to the shit. So forgive me in advance if I’m being a negative Nellie.

March Break

There have been many March breaks (won’t count them for you), but this is the first time we’re joining the queuing throngs at Pearson International Airport.

Meditating on sacred meditation

I’m not sure what possessed this Jew to take in the ½ hour lunchtime concert featuring Hymns on the Theme of Christ’s Baptism at Trinity College chapel. Perhaps it’s lifelong suggestions from friends and strangers that meditation would make me a better, calmer, more focused person.

The Queen of Second Guesses

I’m going to blog for the Huffington Post.  If you didn’t hear that, I said I’M GOING TO BLOG FOR THE HUFFINGTON POST. Important people blog for HuffPo.

Ignorance is not bliss

Someone hacked my blog yesterday. My little nothinginmoderation blog. Should I be flattered that I’m hackworthy? As important to take down as the CIBC bank or the Pentagon? Now that it’s fixed I can be glib. Last night was not so pretty.

When I got home at around 11:00 there was an e-mail from my parents saying they’d tried unsuccessfully to access it.

A fruitful journey

I’m straying from my usual writing theme but since I made the rules, I get to play with them. And anyway there must be a metaphor in here.

I arrived home from a run in Scottsdale with two grapefruit. Not from the senior’s centre where they give them away for free, but off a well-hung tree I passed on route. Lest you think I stole them, there was a bag of bags hanging from the concrete fence and a sign, Help Yourself.

Under Pressure

On a morning walk our first full day in Scottsdale my mom said I should do exactly what I wanted to do this week away, not feel pressured to write. It was, after all, a vacation. She was right, but I considered it a vacation from the obligations of home – the pick-ups and drop offs, the groceries, the homework, the dishes – an opportunity to write at a relaxed pace and get a lot done. Essentially I’d be replacing pressure, with a more desirable, less-pressured pressure.