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It's been a while since I updated wmtc readers on the continuing adventures of Cookie and Kai. Short version: they are doing great. They are healthy, happy, and a constant source of entertainment, not to mention love and affection. But when it comes to dogs, who wants a short version? The great escape. Cookie has matured and settled in -- but she is still a wild child, and very independent. I have to lock my closet door, and if I forget she will find a shoe to use as a chew toy. Now that she knows she'll earn a treat for coming inside, she stands on the deck and waits for me to put my hand on the treat jar before trotting in. She's that kind of girl. You may recall that shortly after we moved in, we discovered that (a) the backyard fence wasn't very good  and (b) Cookie was an escape artist. When she first let herself in , we thought it was so cute and funny. But when we forgot to lock the front door and she let herself out , not so much. So we have a beautiful new fe

As a child, I was taught to use a knife and fork like this: fork in left hand, securing what you want to cut, knife in right hand, cutting. Put knife down, transfer fork from left hand to right hand, put food in mouth. Repeat. My mother drilled this into me and my siblings. My family was not overly big on table manners, but taking that extra moment to put the knife down, and transfer the fork before putting food in your mouth, was considered a critical lesson. I recently overheard two people -- Canadians -- talking about this. One of them said, in mock horror, "Do you transfer ?" And the other replied in an are-you-crazy voice, "No, I do not transfer!" I thought, did my mother teach me wrong? Have I been using some crude, impolite technique to eat my food -- all my life? I heard this conversation a while ago, and finally remembered to look it up online. To my astonishment, the fork-transferring method of eating is considered American, and the non-transfer method is

I've been on a "books about books" run lately, beginning with Syria's Secret Library , then Robert Caro's Working , and now I'm finishing the wonderful The Library Book by Susan Orlean. Orlean is a writer for The New Yorker , which generally means excellent nonfiction. Her book about the canine movie star Rin Tin Tin has been on my List since it was published in 2011. Her 1998 book The Orchid Thief is considered a modern classic. (I read The New Yorker story that led to the book, but have not yet read the book.) The Library Book , like most quality nonfiction, is many things. It's the story of a fire that destroyed much of Los Angeles' Central Library in 1986, and the mystery of who set the blaze, which was definitely arson. It's a history of libraries, and librarians, and a brief history of Los Angeles. It's also a short history of arson, and library fires, and probably a few other things as well. These many threads are intertwined with a

Fans of Robert Caro rejoiced when we learned that Caro, author of nonfiction histories, was writing a book about his writing process. When the book was published, I'm sure I wasn't the only one surprised by its brevity. At a slim 207 pages, Working: Researching, Interviewing, Writing is the equivalent of a post-it note for Caro, whose books are often described as tomes . I read Working over the course of a weekend, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Not only is the subject fascinating, but Caro's warm and genuine voice is truly a joy. If you read nonfiction and you enjoy history, and you haven't read Robert Caro , you must correct this terrible oversight. Caro's first book, The Power Broker , is considered one of the best nonfiction books of the 20th Century. It is a biography of Robert Moses , who was the most powerful man in the most powerful US city -- a man who was never elected to office and who many people, even many New Yorkers, may never have heard of. Mor

January is a time for fresh starts and new beginnings. But our best intentions can come back to bite us. How many of us have made grand plans in January, only to see them disappear by February? Change is hard – and personal habits are the hardest to change of all. A trick that I've found helpful is to create "SMART" goals. SMART is an acronym that stands for Specific, Measurable, Action-Oriented, Realistic, and Timely. SMART goals are: Specific: What do you want to accomplish? "I want to eat healthier" is general and vague. That makes it difficult to achieve. "I want to eat more vegetables" is a bit better. "I will eat one serving of vegetables with dinner, three days per week" is even more specific – which makes it more achievable. Measurable: How will you measure your progress? Track your progress in a journal, on a spreadsheet, or find an app for your phone. Action-Oriented: What actions will you take to work towards your goal? What will y

I started writing this post in September, after the global Climate Strike . It was exciting to see that so many people -- millions around the globe -- understand the urgency and are willing to take to the streets. I thought,  This is beautiful! This is amazing!  ... and This won't change anything . Both at the same time. I hate writing that. I hate feeling this way. Along with Climate Strike, there are other positive developments -- extinction rebellion , for example, and an increasing number of civil disobedience arrests, both celebrity and ordinary . This will grow. More people will get involved and actions will become even bolder. Yet I feel utterly pessimistic about humanity's future. I have lost hope. Of course I know I'm not alone in that. Anyone who looks at the reality of climate change either cloaks themselves in denial, clings to shreds of hope, or vows to fight on without hope. For me, this hopelessness is a kind of identity issue. I reflect on my own feelings a

For the second year in a row, I didn't even bother with the wmtc i hate christmas tradition. I didn't see any shopping fervor, didn't hear or see an onslaught of ads. (Hooray for streaming!) We put up holiday lights, enjoyed two days off (hooray for vestiges of colonialism!), and "the season" passed quietly. I can't bring myself to say Merry Christmas,  but if anybody minds my "happy holidays," they don't show it. New Year's Eve was even quieter. I did the whole look-back thing in late November and early December, as we passed all the one-year marks of our move west and huge lifestyle change.  One bit of small-town and remote North Island life did bother me during the holiday season: all the restaurants are closed, and there's no prepared food to buy. If you want to spend a few days holed up at home, you have to plan ahead and cook. I did... but I would have liked a break. This is the price we pay for living in Port Hardy. It's a gr