On Tuesday while we were hanging up his coat, the lad was scrutinizing the nametags above the coat hooks near his own at preschool. He asked if the name tag beside his said “Madelynne” and I told him it didn’t (it said ‘Maddie’) but the name tag next to that one did, in fact, belong to Madelynne. A look of great relief and satisfaction spread across his face, even more so when he noticed that her coat and shoes were already there. I asked him if this made him happy, and he replied “Yes. We decided a few days ago that we were in love.” Hmm.  I ‘m going to keep an eye on this young lady. They better not be spending all of their class time trying to smooch each other (though I’d understand if they were-he is remarkably smoochable).

In other school-related news: they’ve started working on learning to read, and Max is doing astoundingly well. When asked for words that begin with the letter ‘A’, my tiny genius answered ‘Antarctica’. The teachers were quite impressed.Oh and did I mention that he has been happily working away with the wife and I to complete an activity book designed to prepare kids for grade 1? That’s right, the grade he will enter in 3 years. Yikes! I’ll be honest, I’m a little bit frightened by his giant brain. A brain that size needs a constant supply of stimulation and challenge, and he’s going to start outgrowing some of my old educational standbys like the children’s museum and playgroup. Lazy dad better keep researching new activities.  Maybe it’s time for French class? I could benefit from it as much as he would.

I worked as a poll clerk yesterday, a long 14 hours of record keeping and obsessive number balancing. High-pressure counting takes a mighty toll on your mental faculties, so today there is a finite limit to my complex reasoning. When I try to think anything big, my brain just says “nope”. In all honesty, it’s a bit of a relief. And the stress from yesterday seems a little exaggerated when I remember that I only had to count 126 ballots. Not even 50% of the eligible voters turned out, which is a pretty big problem that, for today at least, I have no real solution to.

One of the more difficult elements of being an elections employee is that I had to give up political activity for the last week of the campaign. I stayed almost entirely non-partisan, letting my political opinion sit sad and unheard in the corner. The things people do for money. But now, unfettered by my promise of neutrality, I can run around town and proclaim my ideals and opinions to anyone who stops to listen.

In regards to the now completed election, I had an interesting experience with it. I cannot say that I am a devoted fan and unqualified supporter of the man who won, Premier Dalton McGuinty. He and his administration have made decisions that I don’t agree with. They show the same poorly thought out infatuation with consultants and their phantom promise of “cost-savings” that every dumb corporation does. I don’t think a hired gun gives you the right answer. They give you the answer that you want to hear, so that they can get paid quickly and get out of your office before their advice comes to fruition and blows up in your face. Outsourcing, whether production or decisions, leads to a decrease in real value.

Having said that, the overall approach and goals of the party align with my own agenda. The big two are health care and education, and an overall respect for diversity and human rights. And, to his credit, Premier McGuinty is a decent guy and a capable leader. When you include a slate of good, hardworking local candidates, my decision on who to vote for and campaign for was easy.

And the campaign itself was fascinatingly instructive, as all three major parties tried different variations of voter alienation and divisive politics,  with a very distinctive set of results. The worst result being a terrible voter turnout of 45%. That has to change, and its a problem that is much bigger than one party or one election. I still have no answers, but I ‘ll suggest educating people on the way government works at all levels would be a good place to start.

 

I get an average number of colds a year, one every 2 months I think. I know they’re going to show up at some time, and they’re going to hang around for about 2 weeks from start to finish. There’s no point in getting upset or surprised when this happens, because it’s inevitable.

I would like to think that I am not unusually soft and delicate, that I can take my fair share of physical discomfort without resorting to whimpering and pleas for mercy, but this current visit from Herr Cold is testing me.  First, there was a day of pretty intense joint pain, much more than the playful ‘achiness’ I expect. Tucking my feet underneath me and sitting that way for more than a few minutes would buy me a very uncomfortable moment of knee extending, complete with clenched teeth and difficult to suppress muttering. That passed after a day as the cold moved on to its favourite haunt, my throat and left ear. Oh, the fiery throat pain that woke me up for two consecutive nights. The throat pain has lessened considerably, though last night I discovered that Buckley’s cough syrup and a raw throat wound combine to form a napalm attack. Now, my sinuses are slowly draining, and my brain is freeing up some processor time to think about creative pursuits, and I’m spending some of that brainpower complaining here. A good use of my potential? What a rude question, hypothetical interrogator.

The intensity of this illness has shaken up my illusion of predictability. I thought I had a pretty good benchmark for the impact and severity of the average cold I might catch, but this hearty illness is working well outside of my accepted parameters. I wonder if I’m seeing the first hallmarks of age-related symptom intensification. I know, I’m not old: I’m not even 40 yet. But my 37 years of life (and 250+ pounds of weight) have been hard on my knees, and my left knee in particular is sensitive.  Stop lurking in the window, mortality! I’m busy!