#78- Solitaire

Solitaire is the king of procrastination activities. Which is why, naturally, I played for 45 minutes before I started writing this post (and since I completed a paragraph it's only fair to reward myself with a couple more games).

It's the game that is at the same time mindless and intellectually stimulating. This makes it perfect for tedious in-class post-morts when I can reason with myself that Solitaire is more helpful to my cerebral development than class, but I can still answer any question thrown at me.

It really does train your mind on strategy and patterns and memory, which has to be better for your mind than playing NHL 08 for days on end (which I sadly have done before). It keeps my mind sharp when working late into the night on a project and at the same time gives me a little break from what I'm working on so I don't go crazy.

I enjoy Solitaire so much that I've played 2166 games (of which 401 of them are wins. Not too shappy eh?).  Forget about those new-fangled computer games that require the internet, Solitaire just requires enough power on your laptop to run it on low (good for those bus rides where internet connection is as rare as serious, potential owners for the Phoenix Coyotes). Or, if you're the retro type, you can use a deck of cards.

Solitaire doesn't have any flashy lights or sounds or graphics which takes me back to the good ol' days of my childhood where Game Boy and Roller Coaster Tycoon were the height of video gaming experiences for me. There is of course the fireworks and exploding cards when you win, which is still something that makes me smile with pride at having bested those pesky cards.

So I am grateful for Solitaire. I'm grateful it comes free on my laptop so I can whittle away the hours and stave off boredom on long trips on the Greyhound or while waiting between appointments and classes. I'm grateful it actually hones some skills like memory and pattern realization. And I'm grateful that such a simple game can mute the bells and whistles in my head in a few short minutes during stressful times.  

#77- Calling Cards

I was getting so jealous of my girlfriend being in Paris that I picked up a calling card and dialled her number yesterday in hopes of getting a slight whiff of intoxicating crepe aroma or catching the sound of a man serenading cafe-goers with an accordion.

All I ended up smelling was my running clothes I was too lazy to put away and the sound filling my room was the pesky little squirrel who sits outside my window and yells at odd hours of the day and night.

But the call gave me something much more special than crepe odors and musically inclined Frenchmen. It gave me the chance to talk to my girlfriend and hear about her trip.

It was great to hear the excitement in her voice when she was telling me about seeing the Eiffel Tower or the anticipation as she talked about plans to travel outside the city. Not to mention that it was really helpful to learn how to skip a four hour line and get into the Louvre for free.

And it was all thanks to that calling card I picked up.

The way we can travel now in days has always induced wonder in me. You can fall asleep in one continent and wake up in another. But what is just as amazing is how we can communicate over such large distances, it's like magic. I can pick up a card, any card (as long as it's an international calling card) and be talking to someone thousands of kilometres away as if they were beside me.

This connection brings us closer together than ever before. We can share so many things with people we've never met or those we have known our entire lives. It's an amazing opportunity to learn, to love and to explore and the small card I bought at the corner store down the street is where it all starts.

So I am grateful for calling cards. I am grateful they are a gateway to whole other cultures and experiences a world away. I am grateful they can act as a line to those I care about and that it can be a tool to open up my imagination with their stories. They may not be your typical greeting cards, but they welcome you to a world of possibilities. 

#76- New Running Shoes

I knew something was wrong when I couldn't feel my foot.

It was after one of my morning runs last week and I had sprinted the last hundred metres, but when I stopped I nearly fell flat on my face because my right foot felt like a block of cement strapped to my leg.

I came to the conclusion, after months of denial, that my three-year-old training shoes had come to the end of their lifespan.

Those shoes had been with me through a lot. From lacing up with me as I ran down the beautiful Rideau Canal to the snow-dusted paths on campus and the goose-filled park near my house in Toronto.

But they were starting to become a pain in the Achilles Tendon.

So I made the trip to the running store over the weekend to find myself a pair of trainers that wouldn't have me hobbling around.

And after a few solid runs in my new shoes I love them.

They are snug, comfortable and even make me look good while I run down the streets (although I may be a bit delusional about that last bit as I frequently envision myself running in epic slow motion with the soundtrack from Chariots of fire in the background).

But really, they are a great pair of shoes that allow me to go out and get some exercise (those Beaver Tails can really weigh on a guy), explore my community, soak up the great weather we've been having here (no really, there is such a thing as good weather in Ottawa) and most importantly do something I love; run.

Running has been a part of my life for a really long time. It's something I've done with friends, family and in my own peaceful world. It's something that keeps me active and challenges me and makes me feel a natural high (I try reminding myself of this point when I'm cursing a particularly long hill or a stiff breeze coming in my direction as I run). My shoes help me do all this. They are the vehicle for this activity in my life that brings so much happiness.

So I am grateful for my new running shoes. I am grateful they allow me to run comfortably and safely and  give me the chance to do something that is good for my body and mind. I'm grateful I have them as a tool to challenge me in new ways and hopefully make myself a better person.

#75- The Penny

It is time to say goodbye to long standing Canadian icon. A constant in this nation since before Confederation. A small token with a powerful symbol. Today the Canadian Mint made their last penny and it's a sad day.

Yes that weird jingle when I walk down the street is from the scores of pennies in my pocket and sure I have mountains of the copper coin stacked all over my room and getting in the way. In short, I, like many in this country, sometimes see pennies as a nuisance, but they've meant something special to me since my five-year-old self was given a handful of shiny cents as my first ever payday.

Since that day when I quickly stuffed the pennies into my Power Rangers wallet, the little coins meant a sense of hope, an opportunity, a door to something new and fascinating. I was finally part of the adult world where I had money, I had responsibility, I had the option of buying the Sour Keys or Fuzzy Peaches or saving up and splurging on an Air Head candy.

And I'm sure everyone remembers how amazing it was to pick up a dropped penny as a kid. The glint of the coin was piece of sunshine in your day, a slice of good luck to hold tight. That's why whenever I see one on the street or the ground I'm tempted to pick it up and relive this childlike sense of wonder, optimism and bliss. But I stop myself, smile and leave it for someone else to experience those feelings (dimes and quarters are another story; hey an unemployed, recent grad has got to eat right?).

I've heard a few of the economic arguments for and against eliminating the penny, but the real pro of having the coin around is to remember these positive feelings that we all lose sight of sometimes as we grow up and see the tough things the world has to offer. It's the opportunity of the penny, the way they can band together to make a difference, what they represent that can teach us a thing or two.

So I am grateful for the penny. I am grateful for the positive way it has made me see the world and for those times when it has meant, quite simply, a small piece of optimism in my day. The penny will no longer be made in Canada, but it will still live on in my memories and scattered around the nooks and crannies of my room.

#74- Nuga the Dog

What is one of the best things that can greet me after a particularly stressful day or one of Ottawa's patented, teeth-cracking, horribly cold winter days?

Not a warm cup of tea, nor a particularly soothing playlist. A comfy spot underneath my covers pales in comparison and a nice book is a close second.

No, the real thing that cheers me up as I arrive home after a tough day is the sight of Nuga the dog.

Nuga is the little pug of a dog that lives a few doors down from me that my mother accidently identified as a pig while moving in last summer. At the time I wondered what kind of neighbourhood I was moving into and where I could get such a pet. Now I wonder when I will get to see the little guy again.

Whenever I am walking down the street and cross Nuga's path he greets me with an emphatic lick of his tongue, swiping paws on my legs and a flurry of excited snorts that I can only assume is the sound of a friendly greeting (and which sound oddly like a pig. Hmmmm).

He is always so happy to see me, no matter the circumstance. Rain or shine, hot or cold, triumph or trial, Nuga is always there to give me a happy greeting. When I am doing my strides after a tough run and my chest hurts, my legs feel like cement and my brain feels like it might spill onto the street I look up and see Nuga at the window of his house, panting at the window, eager to play.

It is this kind of unconditional friendship that makes animals so comforting even on the toughest days. It is this love that makes Nuga one of the brightest beacons, even in the darkest hours.

So I am grateful for Nuga the dog. I am grateful that even after the briefest encounters with him I am left smiling for a long time. I am grateful for his unending enthusiasm and optimism. And I am grateful that he gives me all this without even asking for anything in return, except a pat on the head and the chance to bury his snorting nose into my hands for a second or two.    

#73- Hoodies

My computer chair is no longer suitable for sitting on any more.

The hoodies on said chair have taken it over and appear to have formed some sort of symbiotic relationship with the chair that does not allow me to pry them off. I am currently conducting research into the possible benefits of this phenomenon.

Okay, this isn't actually the reason, but it is true that my hoodies are piled so high on my chair that it makes it difficult to sit comfortably on it.

If you know me, you know that I love wearing hoodies, the immensely comfortable and fashionably questionable sweaters. I wear them almost every time I go to run errands or went to school. Once the harsh Ottawa winter hits they are pretty much my best friend (sorry everyone else, avoiding frostbite is a top priority for me). So I don't see much point in hanging them up in my closet when I'm just going to use them again (again, sorry mom, that sentence must pain you). I guess I love hoodies so much I have unconsciously build a little nest of them around me.

But what is there not to love? Other than the aforementioned warm and snuggly feeling hoodies give you, they also provide a chance, like any clothing, to be original or show your true style and character. They come in all colours, sizes and styles.

Also, since I wear them so often, my hoodies have taken on a major role in my nostalgia department. I look at my maroon and navy blue striped hoodie and remember my 19th birthday, the day I got it as a gift from my girlfriend. I zip up my faded, beat up, brown sweater I wear to the gym and remember all the workouts with friends or peacefully alone. Or I pull my J-school hoodie over my head and flashbacks of the last four years explode in my mind.

So I am grateful for hoodies. I am grateful for their warmth and comfort. I am grateful that they allow me to express myself and let me remember my past and carry the good times around with me. And I am grateful they let me proudly wear this past right there on my chest. And because of all this, I don't mind sharing my chair with my hoodies one bit. 

#72- Rain Storms

There is no activity more humbling than carrying a jerry can full of water up a hill. I can tell you from experience.

It was August, 2008 and I was in Salabwek in Kenya's Maasai Mara region with Free the Children. We were given the afternoon off to go on what was referred to as a "community walk".

At one point in our tour around the village we came to a pond and beside it a tiny stream, a creek with barely any pulse to it. Our guide pointed to the stream, the water limping along over the rocks.

"That is where we get our water," she said, "the pond is for the animals."

There had been a drought, she explained, for months and months and water was already a scare resource.

Now this was a major reality check for a city boy from Toronto who had spent many a gleeful hour filling and refilling water guns and water balloons as a child.

We were asked if we wanted to carry some water in jerry cans for some of the people who had been at the stream when we arrived.

Reality check or not, I still had an over-exaggerated macho streak in me so I ran to the front to pick up one of the faded-yellow jugs.

What no one told me was that it was heavy. Really heavy. Also, the walk was uphill.

While I struggled up the hill, several five year old kids overtook me, carrying, with ease, the very same thing I had trouble lifting off the ground. Seeing something like that does something healthy to your ego; it deflates it, it humbles it, it puts it in its place.

Just when I was coming to the top of the hill, the rain started coming down.

It came down harder than I had ever seen rain fall. It felt like a giant hose had been pointed at me and was dousing every inch of my body.

Our group lugged the jerry cans quickly to where they needed to be and headed off at a trot to find some sort of shelter, like we had always done when a storm hit back home.

And that's when I witnessed one of the most amazing things I will likely ever see; the kids from the village who had gathered around us were going crazy. Some were dancing, others running around, and some were just looking up at the giant hose in the sky, smiling.

The drought had ended.

We all slowed down, stopped and began to join in. We laughed, we slid on the mud covered paths and we walked with the kids, all the way back to our camp in a downpour that didn't really faze us anymore.

That night there were more smiles in our camp than at a synchronized swimming competition. We had experienced pure joy in a burst of rain.

That day made me realize a lot of things. It taught me to stop thinking in a negative, cynical way all the time and about things I couldn't stop. It made me realize the magnificence of things I took for granted way too often. It uncovered the power of life-affirming, refreshing, smile-inducing water. And it made me realize that you can go five days without showering it you get caught in a rain storm at some point in those five days.

And now every time I get caught in a rain storm I try to think about that day instead of how wet my socks are or wondering if the bus will be late because of the weather. I try to think of the contagious euphoria of that day in the rain in Salabwek.

So I am grateful for rain storms. I am grateful for the way they nourish the Earth, our bodies and most importantly how they can nourish our souls.