“You’ll feel better, you love decorating,” he said, as if such penchant for something can replace the void I’m feeling lately.

Decorating for the season this year is such an impractical thing if we’re going to be in Manitoba most of Christmas time anyway, I insisted. It’d be a pain to take down the decorations later.

Taking down the decorations is always a pain regardless of the situation, he said.

But you do it anyway because it makes you happy, it’s not just for others to see, it’s also for us, he said.

I agreed with him.

So on we decorated the place.

We took out some of the Christmas ornaments we’ve accumulated over the years.

Some of the Christmas decor are about eight years old, others are fairly new. We really don’t have a lot, they’re mostly for the tree.

We don’t have a wreath to hang in our front door, just like our neighbours.

We don’t have a lot that will make a display of Christmas frou-frou and I’m not keen on spending money on something that comes out once a year.

But I’m the kind of guy who swings both extremes, from nothingness to everythingness.

When my partner convinced me we have to have some reminder it’s Christmas, I decided I wanted every room in the condo must have something.

Nope. We didn’t splurge on decorations.

We picked up some craft materials, I made a Christmas wreath and the rest of the decor, poinsettias.

It’s still difficult to get into the mood of the season. Or maybe this is the mood for me this year.

However, it’s good to be reminded of the blessing and gift of friendships we’ve made over the years.

Seriously, folks your comforting words mean a lot to both of us.

Dec. 11, 2010

There’s sadness in his voice, although he’s trying to shroud it with a stance that he has accepted his father is dying. It’s much more imminent now, since all the medications his dad used to take and the procedures he used to get have been withdrawn.

The only remaining medical intervention is pain reliever.

I have been feeling down myself. I know it’s related to the impending death in the family.

“I permit you to be happy, it’s Christmas,” he told me.

This was after I told him, perhaps we didn’t need to have a Christmas tree this year.

I really don’t feel any semblance of joyfulness that Christmas used to bring.

It’s not that I’m facing the big 4-0 next month, but maybe that’s part of it.

I just generally feel down these days and I can’t quite stick my finger as to why exactly.

Even doing laundry and pressing shirts don’t stimulate me. Yeah I’m that “deep,” house chores inspire me and keep me going.

There’s been a tentative date for the funeral, my partner told me.

I really didn’t want to talk about it.

But since he’s telling me what the plans are, I felt obliged to listen.

For the sake of practicality, I need to discuss this with him.

But I know there’s more than being practical when you’re talking about death.

There are metaphysical realities that inevitably make the subject matter much more affecting and perhaps depressing.

I didn’t want to talk about death, not because I’m afraid of my own.

It’s not the first death that’s personally affecting me.

I’ve lost people important to me.

Some of them died of cancer and others simply of old age.

Some of the deaths were life-changing for me, and others life-enriching.

I’m convinced that death is something so personal that you experience it alone. You can’t share it with others, because you can’t say “I will die in your stead” or “Can you die for me?”

There will be a funeral and it looks like it’s going to be soon.

Dec. 10, 2010

Here’s what happened today:

I worked.

I came home.

I waited for my partner to come home from Edmonton.

I worried while he’s driving in a snowstorm.

I made dinner while I was worrying.

When shared a meal when he got home.

And then I went back reading my book and continued procrastinating on my notes.

Dec. 9, 2010

Some fans of two city-owned historical aircraft packed the meeting, as they pleaded their case for the umpteenth time.

They wanted to restore and keep a Mosquito and a Hurricane airplanes in Calgary, but it’s going to cost money.

A group of enthusiasts are willing to volunteer their talent, time and money to the project, all they were asking was for the city to allow them to do it.

But some council members decided they’d give the enthusiasts cash to follow their little hearts desire.

So these politicians voted to grant them $800,000.

I don’t get the logic of it all.

Just last week, the same politicians attempted to cut the city budget, now they’re putting back what they trimmed.

And to do what?

I don’t get it.

Yes, some historical pieces may actually be of benefit to Calgary because they can potentially bring tourists to the city.

But I still don’t get it.

It’s a wasteful spending, supported by only six members of council.

I don’t think these politicians get the fact that some of them barely got re-elected and they’re back to their wasteful ways.

Boy, there are days I think, these people don’t really think.

Dec. 8, 2010

Tuesday, I allowed myself to be consumed by the tentacles of my own self-importance.

And I was alarmed that my old attitude of all or nothing was back.

At the end of the day, I was able to tell myself, it was only a job, not that I want to lose it.

But what happened or not happened at work can’t define my whole being.

After all I don’t spend 24 hours working.

Dec. 7, 2010

Council went over time, they didn’t finish meeting until 9:45 p.m.

It’s not unheard of, but it’s also unusual.

Whenever public hearings on land items are combined with the regular council meeting, there’s a chance it will go well into the night.

Sometimes the items I’m interested writing about, don’t get discussed until the very last hour.

When that happens, I usually write several versions of the story.

Filing stories when it’s getting close to the 9:30 p.m. deadline can be tricky.

That’s when simple mistakes happen and that’s when I need the help of my editors to make sure I haven’t put any confusing information in the story.

I can’t remember how many re-writes I did on one story Monday night.

But I’d rather do that than get the ire of some readers, who seem to have become more demanding these days, they don’t even buy the paper. Or at least I don’t think they do, because they read the news online.

While I was driving home, I was still making re-writes to my story with the help of my editor.

At one point, I had to pull over, so I could talk to my editor and think at the same time.

It’s confusing to think of a story fix when what you’re seeing in front of you are traffic lights and motorists rushing to get home.

I don’t remember how I got home that night nor how I put the story to bed.

All I could remember was the smell of home-cooked meal, my partner has prepared for us to share after a hectic, busy, and cruel day.

Dec. 6. 2010

It’s eerily quieter even on a Sunday.

The first time we stayed in this town was summer and it was so much alive with people on summer holiday.

This time around there was hardly anyone by the beach, which was teeming with people when we first came here about four years ago.

There was hardly a vehicle on the streets, which was the opposite from that summer.

Even the orchards and vineyards signalled that the town takes a break from business.

There were some fruits that remained on lifeless trees and vines.

We went to a number of wineries.

There were hardly people in them, aside from a family in one that we came to check out.

A number of wineries we had hoped to see were even close.

If you’re not in a rush or not the driver, this means that you can sample all the wines that you wanted.

But since we only had several hours before our flight in Kelowna, we weren’t really drinking seriously.

My partner was only sipping wines, as opposed to seriously drinking.

He was the one driving, so I ended up drinking most of what the wines he sampled.

From time to time he’d ask me whether I liked the wine.

I really couldn’t tell the difference from one to another, except when it’s a dessert or ice wine.

Our last winery stop was in Summerland at the Sumac Ridge winery.

It was getting dark, although it was barely 4 p.m.

Most of the wineries were closing at 4 p.m. and although others remained open until 5 p.m. it would have been difficult to find them because the sun has set and we didn’t have a good map.

When we made it to Kelowna, it was dark and the temperature has gone down significantly.

For some reason I was craving bad Chinese food.

I gave in.

We went to a Chinese buffet and had a feast of a standard, flavourless and uninspired food.

By the time we finished dinner, it was time to head to the airport to catch our flight back to Cowtown.

I’d like to come back to Osoyoos and the Okanagan, but it has to be in the summer or at least in the fall.

Dec. 5, 2010

The persistent ray of sun peering through what looked like a massive grey mantle battled to gain at least a teensy share of celestial presence. But no matter how shiny that solar ray, it wasn’t enough to burn the melancholy scattered above the Okanagan sky.

I used to live in the Okanagan in British Columbia. It’s a beautiful part of the country.

On Saturday I remember why I don’t see myself residing here again during winter.

I rarely saw the sun.

It drove me crazy. I began painting in blues and purples.

Yes, you may be surprised to know that I used to paint.

That was almost a decade ago, the same time that I was going through some serious questions about who I am, and who I wanted to become.

I was living in Vernon then. The little city was pretty, during the summer.

But when winter came, it turned gloomy.

I felt like it was always going to snow, forced us indoors, where it was safer.

I missed the sunny winter days of Edmonton.

But Edmonton was bad for me at that juncture of my life.

I had to endure the sad, winter of Okanagan, so I could find myself.

I did survive that 1999-2000 winter and left Vernon with a whole bunch of paintings, most of which got sold, but some I still own, others recently found their way in the garbage bin.

My partner and I decided to stay in Osoyoos overnight, instead of Kelowna. The chance of having a sunny weekend is far higher.

We’ve been to this town one time one summer. It’s a pretty little town nestled in the Okanagan and it has a microclimate, that’s why there are several vineyards and tons of orchards.

It’s a promising weekend and I hope I get to taste some wine.

Dec. 4, 2010

I knew I wouldn’t necessarily be spared from at least one more budget-related story. The budget council approved Thursday wasn’t a finished a work. They’re still in the process of looking for more cuts and they – at least most of them – hope there reductions tucked somewhere to be had.

My editor asked me if the experience was the most challenging budget week I’ve ever dealt with in my entire career.

It wasn’t really.

I had more difficulty when I was working in Fort McMurray and just beginning to understand reading financial documents.

Budgets are fun for some to go through. But when you’re looking at piles and piles of documents that talk about numbers and money, you can go crazy if you believe you can draw out all the interesting stuff in one sitting.

I dealt with quarterly reports from different energy companies, mostly those that have interest in the oilsands while I was working in Fort McMurray. They were difficult documents, sometime extremely dry that one would want to cry how to pull a story that actually affects ordinary people’s lives.

I did it for almost two years and I thought that was enough training to get through my career.

I was wrong.

As I moved one with my career, I realized I will always need the assistance of the experts, those whom I can trust to tell me, what’s the real story behind the numbers.

I was working in Edmonton in 2008 and was asked to pinch hit for the city hall reporter when council was finalizing the budget numbers.

I eagerly went to the final hour of council meeting and listened without really knowing where exactly they were.

They finished the meeting and approved the budget. The first thing I asked one councilor I thought I could trust was the tax rate. She gave some number. I hardly remember it now. I rushed to the newsroom with the news about the tax rate. It made front page the next day.

I was proud.

Then the next day, I was asked to explain why the number the competing paper had on its front page is different than what I reported.

I was profusely mad and ashamed. I felt betrayed.

My number was off a little. It was the number the councilor wanted. But council didn’t exactly get there.

That was a lesson, a painful one.

From then on I learned to asked not only a second person, but a third and if I have the luxury of time, which journalists don’t always have, I ask a fourth.

The past budget debate was interesting. It wasn’t neither the most challenging nor difficult budget coverage I’ve ever had.

But it’s challenging enough that I’m glad it’s almost over.

We’ll get back at it maybe in February, if not April.

For now, it’s time to board the plane to Kelowna and see my partner, who’s working out of town. He’s company has graciously offered to fly me to where he is. I can’t say no to that.

Dec. 3, 2010

The dynamics in council has changed, since the last council, obviously because there are new people, there are rookies and some of the veterans no longer have their powerful allies.

They finished deliberations just before noon.

Since Tuesday, the mayor has been saying it’s going to be done soon.

He predicted it would be over Tuesday night.

It spilled onto Wednesday.

On Wednesday, he said it’s going to be done, even if they go over time.

Nobody wanted to go over time Wednesday.

It spilled onto Thursday and again the mayor said they’d make sure it’s done before noon.

It almost didn’t get over at noon, as motion arising, after motion arising piled on the chamber desk.

Some motions were rejected, because they had nothing to do with the budget.

Flouride debate anyone?

Majority said, “Nah!”

“Let’s do it some other time.”

The media covering the budget thinned.

Only the regulars were left.

There were more people in the booth though, some were visiting, others were the new regulars.

Expletives were heard, ridiculing attempts at filibustering.

There’s no such thing as filibustering at city hall.

Politicians aren’t really allowed to gab as much as they wanted, because the mayor will put a kibosh to that.

So, at exactly noon, the mayor was doing a scrum on the budget.

He was all smile, although he didn’t get what he exactly wanted.

Not yet.

He promises, he’ll continue the fight for a much lower tax.

We’ll see what happens next.

He’s now a prince you know.

Dec 2, 2010