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Dixie’s Year in Photos — 2024, The Dream She Lived I spent some time going through old photos this week, flipping through the moments that made 2024 what it was. It wasn’t an easy year — not by a long shot. Getting out the door felt harder, the days felt heavier, and the routines didn’t always fall into place. But even in all that, Dixie had her best walks. That dog lived her dream. Twenty‑six photos from 2024 stood out. Twenty‑six little windows into the life of a dog who was happy with everyone she walked with. Friends, family, neighbours — she collected people the way some dogs collect sticks. Every walk had a different face beside her, and she loved them all. You can see it in the photos: the big grin, the ears perked, the tail mid‑wag. She was a dog who knew she was loved. Looking back, it’s clear that even when the year felt difficult, the memories didn’t stop forming. There were riverbank strolls, park loops, muddy paws, sunny mornings, and those quiet evening wa...

 A quick stroll with Kim, a spoiled pup, and a lawn waiting for attention Kim and I went out for a short walk today, just enough to stretch the legs before the rest of the day took over. I still had the lawn waiting for me before it got too late, so the fresh air helped me gear up for that. I swung by the store earlier and grabbed us burgers, plus bananas and yogurt for Kim. Dixie scored big too — she got her own little burger patty mixed into her kibble, and she was absolutely thrilled with herself. We took her out for another walk and it turned into one of those simple, good moments that make the day feel worthwhile. I had a couple of groups to attend and managed to get through everything with a decent mood, even if I’m feeling a bit tired now. The backyard still needs mowing, so I better get to it before the evening slips away.

 Finding Faith, Clarity, and Momentum in Midlife Living My Second Chance: Why Midlife Feels Like the Peak This morning started simply: a short walk with the dog, a bit of fresh air, and a conversation with friends about peer support. Nothing dramatic. But sometimes the quiet days are the ones that help you see your life clearly. The last few weeks have been intense for me — spiritually, emotionally, physically. I’d been running on a sleep deficit that added up to nearly 25 hours lost each week for three weeks straight. Anyone would feel the strain of that. But after finally getting real rest, something shifted. Yesterday I felt good. Today I feel even better. It’s like my mind finally caught up to my body. And in that clarity, I’ve been thinking a lot about life stages — youth, middle age, and the years ahead. There’s this idea floating around that life is shaped like a U: the early years are great, the middle dips, and the later years rise again. Karl Pillemer, MD, argues that mid...

 Poetic & Introspective Nigel, I’m going to meet you where you are — not dismiss what you’re feeling, not feed the fear, but help you sort through the noise so your mind can breathe again. Here’s the core truth I want you to hold onto first: The intensity of these thoughts — the poisoning fears, the old memories mixing with the present, the symbolic dreams, the sense of being “robbed” or “channeled” — these are signs of your mind being overwhelmed, not signs that people around you are secretly drugging you or plotting against you. Your brain is trying to make sense of stress, exhaustion, and old trauma patterns, and it’s doing it in the loudest way possible. You’re not alone in that. And you’re not broken. You asked for a blog post, so I’ll shape this into something grounded, reflective, and human — something that captures your experience without feeding the paranoia, and helps you step back into yourself. Blog Post: When Old Fears Wake Up in the Middle of a Good Day Some da...

 From a quiet after‑work walk to the loud failures of systems meant to protect people, today’s thoughts moved between books, politics, grief, and the stubborn hope that Alberta — and Canada — can do better.  A walk with Dixie, a mind full of trains arriving, and the heavy truths of a province wrestling with its own contradictions. Holding excitement for the next chapter while carrying the weight of what’s broken — and what still might be rebuilt. Dog Walk —  17 Day's  Not Releasing Myself is none to no-ones business After work, Dixie and I headed out for another walk — the kind where the air feels a little lighter because you’ve done your shift, but the mind is still carrying its own freight. I stopped at Analog Books on the way. Picked up a new read, and another one is already on its way in the mail. I’ve been doing good lately, reading lots again, even if my brain has been busy in that way where it feels like someone’s train is arriving every five minutes. Lou...

  Short Walks, Strange Shifts, and Spinach for Supper The dog and I got out for a short walk after work — nothing long, just enough to stretch the legs and grab a picture of the evening settling in. Supper tonight ended up being spinach dip, French bread, and spinach rolls. Kind of a European–South American mash‑up, especially with Barcelona and Argentina playing soccer today. Felt fitting in a funny way. Work itself was good. I chatted with customers all day and actually enjoyed it. Usually I’m too stressed to do much more than work, eat, and blog, but today had a bit of ease to it. Still, the schedule is wearing on me. Nights, mornings, evenings ending at 10, brain refusing to shut off until 3, then up at five — it’s a mess. I keep wishing for consistency, but the shifts jump around like they’ve got a mind of their own. Rest feels like a puzzle with missing pieces. Sixteen days now of no release. Not religious, but it’s been feeling like some kind of strange spiritual experience ...