Maxed Out

By G.D. Maxwell "Why don’tcha all f-f-fade away, And don’t try to dig what we all s-s-say." — Peter Townshend My generation sucks.

By G.D. Maxwell Firmly rooted to the clay soil of Smilin’ Dog Manner, I am missing what I don’t have. What I don’t have is aimless wandering, jumping in Mello Yello and spending long parts of summers on the road.

By G.D. Maxwell Got a second? As much as I itch to, I can’t bring myself to ask that question of our esteemed Councillor Wells. Though Kristi and I don’t necessarily see eye to eye on many – most – issues, I feel her pain.

By G.D. Maxwell There are at least two fundamental problems with gardening. The first is, it’s an obscene amount of work, way more sweat and toil than anything generally referred to as a pastime or hobby has a right to be.

By G.D. Maxwell I feel as though I’m living through a bad sequel. Grumpy Old Men III: The Leadership Race .

By G.D. Maxwell Cariboo Kottage – we’re still searching for a name – is not exactly rustic.

By G.D. Maxwell Jokes and homeownership owe their popularity and longevity, in part, to the amazing human ability to forget.

Riddle o’ the Week: How is Whistler preaching sustainability like a paedophile priest preaching piety? Well, while you either fret or fume over that question, let’s consider the sorry, sorry state of language.

An exhaustive list of my shortcomings is beyond the scope of a single column. While generally not wading too deeply into the seven deadly sins, I would certainly have to include sloth on the list.

By. G.D. Maxwell M is for the million things she gave me Yup, it’s that time again.