Pique'n Yer Interest

A casino! In Whistler? What a novel idea. There has been absolutely no talk about it from town planners, at least not that the public has heard, and any time the topic comes up in conversation people are vehemently opposed to the idea.

Stop me if you've heard this before: after ten fabulous days of overdrive partying, presenting, presiding and participating, I lie beaten, bloodied and broken in the gutter of spring ... with a smile on my face.

There comes a time in many a man's life when he must come to terms with his belly. It comes sooner for some, but save the Herculeses among us, many of us will be spilling over the belt loops eventually.

The left is weak. It doesn't matter how many orange banners fly at an NDP rally. It doesn't matter how many red flags are raised to support Michael Ignatieff.

The world is a complicated place, but it doesn't have to be. All you have to do is agree to a core set of human values and go from there.

The Earth is evolving. Physically, magnetically, geologically, chemically, biologically. The only certainty in each is change over time.

One of the greatest facets of living in the Sea to Sky corridor has been getting to know its First Nations. The Squamish and the Lil'wat have been caretakers of the land since time immemorial, long before we started using it as our playground.

I was sucking on a quarter. It caught a ride with my saliva and sailed down my throat. I was nine, or something.

I'm not a great driver. I admit it. It took me months to learn to drive a standard car without stalling and even now I'm terrified driving the steep streets of Vancouver, lest I roll backwards into a car that's worth more than my life.

Over the past two weeks - while vicariously enjoying Whistler's recent big storm cycle through Facebook - I spent some time traveling and skiing Norway with a Salomon Freeski TV crew.