Surprising discoveries in ordinary places — I love wandering into quiet, quirky places to check in with myself. That’s the heart of my Humble Hikes pub — stories about hiking into places that teach us stuff. Sometimes we seek them out. Sometimes they yank us in. Humble hikes help us see our lives in fun, fresh ways. Or they slap us upside the head about something we’re not…

I’m in a murderous mood: slaughter the old me to reveal the real one. — My Grade 13 English teacher, Mr. Hillen, was the first one to call me a writer to my face. I brushed him off. Then I spent the next 30 years of my life doing stuff I’m not sure I should’ve been doing. …

I wrote. I drank. I hung out with my 10-year-old self. — I was ten the first time I went to Ogunquit, Maine. I’ll never forget that five-hour bus ride from Montreal to the Atlantic Ocean. It was great. Hell, I was traveling with a pack of other Canadian beach lovers, along with my mom and dad. Yeah, I can see them…

What Punxsutawney Phil taught me about escaping mine. — You know Phil, right? He’s that internationally famous groundhog millions of us pin our hopes on for a forecast of an early spring. Come February 2nd each year, Phil is coaxed out of his cozy hideout in Punxsutawney, PA. (Real place.) Doesn’t see his shadow? Announces spring’s coming early! Sees…

He’ll be dead soon. I needed to get his DNA now. — “Now! Do it! Pluck a piece of your dad’s hair. He won’t feel a thing.” The voice in my head was desperate. I mustered the courage to rise out of the visitor’s chair in my dad’s ICU room, step up to him, lean in. That’s about how far I got. Then I’d chicken out. This time it was the shadow of a doctor or nurse…

Here’s how I find mine twice a day. — Like the pic? I do, and I don’t. That’s why I have it on my phone. If I’m not careful, I lose my mind most days banging my head against a brick wall. Angry. Stressed. Trapped. Nothing good comes of that. I have options, of course. When I chose to…

My fridge wants me to save energy. (Or is it trying to tell me something else?) — My new fridge is on my case. Cutting me zero slack for taking a little extra time to close its door. I’m not sure how much longer I can take it. “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” it scolds me from behind with its cry for climate-change consciousness. I feel that guilty. It’s…

How getting my mail, talking to ants, and picking up dog shit fires up my creativity. — I like where I write. In my dining room with bright, beautiful daylight streaming through all the small windows from all sides of the house. …

How GPS (and my wife) helped me clear the road there. — I mean, it took decades, but I got pretty damn good at navigating the tricky relationship with my dad when visiting him in Montreal. Potholes in our expectations. Fender benders about the daily news. Creative detours around bizarre behaviors. I ignored flashing lights warning of dangerous conversation zones. I constantly…