There’s a reason we cruise again and again: the experience is simply richer. When we travel by plane or take a road trip, we often end up in a hotel or motel, flipping through TV channels and calling it a night. It’s comfortable, yes — but not exactly memorable.
On a cruise, the days feel fuller. There’s always something happening just steps away: music, lectures, games, shows, and that wonderful buzz of people enjoying themselves. Entertainment isn’t an add‑on — it’s part of the heartbeat of the ship, and it’s one of the things we love most.
This week we joined the Global Trivia, hosted by the Future Cruise team. Out of 46 questions, we scored 41 — and the winning team had 43. Not bad at all. If you’ve sailed with Princess before, you’d recognize many of the clues, which made it even more fun. It’s that blend of familiarity and discovery that keeps us coming back.
Cruising gives us destinations, experiences, and entertainment all woven together. It’s travel that feels alive — and that’s why we choose it.
Here are some pictures of the first couple of days of entertainment:
The aerielists were wonderful
Sand Artist at work
A very delightful Latin production. Many more singers and dancers but I was enjoying it so much I didn't take more pictures.
Andrew Kennedy put on two shows, the family show the first night and the XX rated at PG 18 at 10:30 PM both very good
This concert was incredible! A fabulous guitarist/vocalist
We've been told there will be many concerts in this gorgeous venue
We sailed the short route from Vancouver to Victoria overnight, and by the time we docked around 7 AM, the city was just beginning to wake. The air was cool — that crisp coastal kind of cool — but it felt refreshing rather than cold. Victoria has a way of greeting you softly, even first thing in the morning.
With no schedule and no rush, we decided to walk the waterfront around Ogden Point. It’s a beautiful stretch, open to the sea and full of that familiar West Coast calm. The waves were steady, the sky still pale, and the lighthouse stood quietly at the end of the breakwater, as it always does.
There’s something lovely about starting a day with a simple walk by the water. No crowds, no noise, just the rhythm of the ocean and the feeling of being somewhere peaceful. Victoria is good at offering that — especially early in the day, before the city fully stirs.
I often hear people say they “never want to go on a large ship.” They say it with conviction — even though most have never actually tried one. It’s a bit like dismissing a restaurant you’ve never eaten at or a city you’ve never visited. Assumptions can be powerful, but experience is even more so.
Years ago, we found ourselves in that exact situation. Friends had chosen Allure of the Seas, which at the time was the largest cruise ship in the world. It wasn’t a ship we would have picked on our own. In fact, we were hesitant. But we wanted to join them, so we booked it — cautiously, curiously, and with no idea what to expect.
What happened surprised us.
We loved it.
Not just “it was nice” — we genuinely enjoyed the experience. The ship felt like a floating neighbourhood, full of energy and choices. There were different venues of music, each with its own personality. J azz one night, Latin rhythms the next, and quiet acoustic sets tucked away in cozy lounges. The shows were outstanding, far beyond what we expected at sea — Broadway‑level productions, comedy, ice shows, and performances we still talk about today. They had the full Broadway production of "Chicago"! All for the price of the cruise.
And here’s the part that says everything:
We booked another trip three months later because we wanted to see everything we missed the first time.
Large ships aren’t for everyone, of course. But they offer something special — variety, entertainment, and the freedom to choose a different experience every night. You can be as busy or as relaxed as you want. You can listen to music, watch a show, sit quietly with a book, or wander through spaces designed to feel like little worlds of their own.
So when people tell me they’d “never” go on a big ship, I smile a little. Because sometimes the best travel surprises happen when you try the thing you thought wasn’t for you.
Yesterday was embarkation day, and what a smooth start it turned out to be. We boarded the Star Princess at Canada Place, where the aft of the ship was docked. Our scheduled boarding time was 11:30, but we arrived at the pier at 11:10 thanks to a fabulous Uber driver who knew exactly where to go. He pulled right into the terminal, and before we even opened the door, a luggage cart rolled up beside the car. It felt like VIP service without even trying.
We headed upstairs, picked up our medallions, and walked straight through security. No lineups, no delays, no fuss. Even with three ships in port, the organization was excellent. We were stepping onto the ship right at 11:30 — the kind of efficiency you always hope for but rarely get.
Once aboard, we went straight to our stateroom, dropped off our carry‑on, completed our muster, and made our way to the Aurora Dining Room for lunch. The service was warm and attentive, and lunch was exactly what you want on embarkation day: relaxed, tasty, and unhurried.
The afternoon was spent wandering the ship and settling in. Our luggage arrived by 2:30, giving us plenty of time to unpack before our 5:20 dinner reservation. And then came the surprise of the day — look at the table we got! Perfect location, perfect view, and we didn’t even have to bribe anyone. Sometimes the cruise gods simply smile on you.
A wonderful start to the voyage, full of small kindnesses, smooth logistics, and that familiar excitement of being back at sea.
After dinner we went to the theatre and saw a very funny comedian. He's got an adult show tomorrow at 10:30 and we will be there! A great ending to a wonderful day,
Today’s the day — we’re boarding the new Star Princess for a 23‑day cruise from Vancouver to Fort Lauderdale. Even better, we’re travelling with friends. It’s always nicer to sail with people you know.
I’ll blog whenever the ship’s Wi‑Fi cooperates. Satellite internet has come a long way now that most ships run on Starlink, though the speed still depends on how many people are trying to upload their vacation photos at the same time.
One thing I won’t miss is the news. Back home, cities and municipalities across the province are deep into election season. I can’t vote this time in the city election — we’re leaving before absentee ballots are even ready. That’s a first for me; I always vote. We’ll be back in time for the provincial election, though. I’ll catch up on the candidates then. I don’t yet know who I’m voting for, but I definitely know who I’m not voting for.
For now, it’s time to call an Uber to go to Canada Place. There’s something special about starting a trip from your own home city — a little calmer, a little easier, and a lot more fun.
Every so often, you step aboard a ship and immediately sense that it isn’t built for ordinary travel. That was my experience this week when I had the opportunity to tour an HX Expeditions vessel — a ship designed not for mainstream cruising, but for people who feel most alive when the world is at its rawest and most untouched.
HX Expeditions has been sailing for 130 years, and that legacy shows. These are not floating resorts. They are purpose‑built expedition ships created to bring travellers into the planet’s wildest, most awe‑inspiring places — the kind of destinations most cruise lines simply sail past without stopping. HX doesn’t “view from a distance.” They land. They explore. They immerse.
Where Nature Sets the Itinerary
One of the first things you learn about expedition cruising is that nature is in charge. HX itineraries adapt in real time — shifting with sea ice, weather, wildlife sightings, and the ever‑changing conditions of remote environments. There’s no rigid schedule carved in stone. Instead, there’s a promise: you will go where the moment offers the greatest opportunity for discovery.
It’s a refreshing philosophy. Instead of forcing nature to fit a timetable, HX follows nature’s lead.
A Cruise for the Curious
These journeys attract a very specific demographic — people who love science, wildlife, geology, photography, and the quiet thrill of being somewhere few humans have ever stood. Guests aren’t looking for casinos or Broadway shows. They’re looking for knowledge, wonder, and the kind of beauty that doesn’t need embellishment.
On board, you’ll find experts in marine biology, glaciology, ornithology, and climate science. Lectures aren’t entertainment; they’re part of the adventure. Every landing, every zodiac ride, every wildlife encounter becomes richer because you understand what you’re seeing.
Going Where Mainstream Ships Don’t
Most cruise lines pass by Antarctica or the Arctic from a safe distance, offering scenic cruising and photo opportunities from the deck. HX does something entirely different.
They go ashore.
Their fleet of sturdy zodiacs can land on remote beaches, giving guests the chance to step onto the ice, walk among penguins, or stand at the foot of a glacier. For those who want even more immersion, HX offers kayaking in polar waters — and yes, even camping overnight on the Antarctic continent. Imagine waking up to absolute silence, broken only by the crack of distant ice.
It’s not just travel. It’s participation.
A Ship Built for Purpose
Walking through the vessel, I noticed how every space serves the mission. Observation lounges with wide windows. Mudrooms for gearing up before landings. Science centers. Equipment designed for safety in extreme conditions. It’s a ship that invites you to learn, to explore, and to feel part of something larger than yourself.
This isn’t a cruise you take to escape life. It’s a cruise you take to understand the world more deeply.
Why HX Stands Apart
After touring the ship, it’s clear why HX Expeditions has earned such a devoted following. They offer something rare: authentic exploration. Not curated, not staged — real, unpredictable, exhilarating discovery.
For travellers who want to go beyond the postcard and into the heart of the planet’s most remote places, HX delivers an experience that stays with you long after you return home.
One area that no other expedition ship has is the Science Center. Packed with state-of-the-art technology and equipment, the Science Center is at the heart of the onboard experience. This is where guests and staff/crew meet, mingle and create a deeper understanding of the areas you explore. You’ll have advanced microscopes to analyse rock, fossil and biological samples you would have collected earlier in the field. The flexible venue features lecture spaces, a small library, and speciality areas for workshops in photography, biology, and more.
Boot storage
Boot cleaner which is necessary not to take anything onto the continent
Outer wear for everyone
Different types of Kayaks
Tent for a sleep out in Antarctica
Typical Ocean View Stateroom
The staterooms are larger than most. The balcony cabin is the same floorplan as this and the balcony is large! I took pictures of the suites. They were gorgeous. The aft suites have hot pools on the decks! I can't post all the pictures.
HX is 130 years old and here is the original cabin:
There are 3 restaurants onboard. All were very nice. We had a lovely lunch in the dining room.
An aft infinity pool and two hot tubs at the aft
It's impossible to capture the entire ship. It's so unique. Here is a a video ship tour:
At 33, Eleanor Roosevelt opened her husband's suitcase and found something that would change her marriage — and, eventually, the entire course of her life.
Inside was a bundle of love letters from Lucy Mercer, Eleanor's own social secretary — a woman she had trusted and welcomed into her home. The discovery devastated her.
Eleanor offered Franklin a divorce. But it was more complicated than the feelings of two people. Franklin's family strongly opposed it, warning that a divorce would destroy his political future. So they stayed married. Their relationship, though, was never quite the same. And for Eleanor, something inside had shifted.
Until then, she had spent much of her life trying to be whoever she thought others wanted her to be. Born in 1884, she lost both parents while still a child. Her father, whom she adored, struggled with alcoholism and died when she was young; her mother had often been critical of her looks, even nicknaming her "Granny." Orphaned before she was ten and raised by a stern grandmother in a home short on warmth, Eleanor had grown up believing love was something she had to earn. She hoped marriage would finally give her the security she'd always wanted, and she poured herself into being a devoted wife, mother, and political partner.
Then she found the letters. And slowly, she began to understand something that would reshape everything: she could not build her whole identity around being loved by someone else.
A few years later, another crisis struck. Franklin was diagnosed with polio and lost the ability to walk unaided. Many assumed his political career was over. Eleanor didn't. She began going out on his behalf — attending meetings he couldn't reach, meeting voters, gathering information from communities he couldn't visit. And in doing so, she discovered something she hadn't fully known: she could stand on her own.
When Franklin became president in 1933, Eleanor transformed what it meant to be First Lady. She didn't just host dinners and cut ribbons. She traveled constantly, visiting factories, coal mines, hospitals, migrant camps, and poor communities, because she wanted to see for herself how ordinary Americans were really living. She held press conferences open only to female reporters, forcing newsrooms to keep women on staff at a time when they were routinely shut out.
Then came one of her most famous stands. In 1939, the great singer Marian Anderson was refused permission to perform at Constitution Hall in Washington because she was Black. Eleanor resigned from the organization that owned the hall in protest — and helped arrange for Anderson to sing instead at the Lincoln Memorial. On Easter Sunday, Marian Anderson stood on those steps and sang to a crowd of some 75,000 people, with millions more listening on the radio. A private act of conscience had become a national moment.
Eleanor faced criticism, threats, and relentless political attacks. She kept going.
When Franklin died in 1945, many assumed her public life would end with his. Instead, she stepped into one of its most important chapters. President Harry Truman appointed her a U.S. delegate to the brand-new United Nations, where she chaired the Human Rights Commission and steered the painstaking negotiations behind the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. On December 10, 1948, the UN adopted it — a document affirming the dignity and rights of every human being on earth, shaped in no small part by the woman who had once struggled to believe she was enough.
Her life was not defined by the betrayal she found in a suitcase, nor by losing her parents, nor by her own deep insecurities. Those things shaped her. But they did not decide who she became. Eleanor Roosevelt didn't get the life she first imagined — so she built a different one, and used her pain, her independence, and her voice to make the world larger for millions of people.
Just before noon on December 30, 2024, a man disguised as a delivery driver entered a downtown luxury retailer and approached staff. He demanded they fill a box with luxury handbags, threatening to shoot them if they refused. When staff declined and contacted security, the suspect fled the store.
Ejiofor Louis, a loss prevention officer, responded to the call and followed the suspect outside. He was quickly joined by fellow loss prevention officer Aaron Wong, who was on the phone with 911 providing real-time updates.
When the suspect entered a truck parked in a nearby alley, Louis and Wong intervened to prevent him from leaving. During the struggle to remove him from the vehicle, the suspect repeatedly reached for a shotgun on the passenger seat, threatening to kill them.
Police arrived to find the suspect on the ground and in handcuffs, with two seized weapons nearby. A subsequent search of the truck revealed improvised explosive devices, as well as a fully loaded shotgun.
For their courage and decisive actions, placing themselves in harm’s way to prevent serious injury or loss of life, Mr. Ejiofor Louis and Mr. Aaron Wong were awarded the Vancouver Police Board’s highest award for civilian bravery, the Award of Merit.
Every now and again there is a long obituary. I am always interested in what this person did in their life. This is one is so interesting, it got me interested with "family-style dinner with lots of gravy"!
Arthur Edward ‘Art’ BatesJune 5, 1921 – October 19, 2014
We’ll celebrate Art’s life on Sunday, November 2, 2014 at an old-fashioned family-style dinner (with lots of gravy) from 6 to 9 pm at the Royal Canadian Legion Crescent Branch 240, 2643 128 Street, Surrey, BC V4A 3W6. Please advise if you plan to attend by emailing info@margobates.com by noon on Oct 29.
Arthur Edward Bates was born on June 5, 1921 in Ogema, Saskatchewan, Canada. Parents: Arthur and Ada Myrtle Bates. Moved to Hazelton, BC in 1937. Moved to Telkwa, BC in 1939. Served as an AB (Able Bodied) Seaman with the Royal Canadian Navy during WWII. Moved back to Telkwa after the War. Moved to Terrace, BC in 1960. Moved to White Rock, BC in 1971. Moved to Surrey, BC. First, the Peninsula Retirement Residence in 2007, and then to Westminster House in 2012.
Brother to Robert, George, Beryl, Richard, Gordon and Gerald. Husband to Frankie. Son-in-Law to William & Annie Noonan. Brother-in-Law to Doe, Bette, Art, Edie, Debbie and Jewel, Molly & Stan, Frank & Lou. Uncle to Bob Jr. (Judy) & Leanna (Bev), Joanne (Ray), Lynne (Larry), George Jr. (Janeen) & Jay (Shelley), Susan & Sandra (Brian), Steve (Carol) & Wendy (Leonard), Vera (Peter) & Art (Pauline), Bill (Pauline|Judy), Liz (Dave), Ann, Jeanne (Bud) & Judy (Rick). Father to Margo. Father-in-law to Russ. Grandfather to Rachael (Tommaso) & Joel (Emma), Honorary Grandfather to Tyson, Corina (Davan) & Ana (Karim) and Inaara. Great Grandfather to Damian, Anna & Miss Maggie.
Art was: A sign painter. Oil painter. Watercolourist. Inventor. TV weatherman. Politician. Ski jumper. Skier. Draughtsman. Personnel manager. Radio announcer. Sailor. Marksman. His father was a Northwest Mounted Policeman and an RCMP. General & Drill instructor in Royal Canadian Navy. Parade Float designer. Jersey cow herder. Made leather crafts. Prospector. Bus driver. Carpenter. House designer. Writer. Drummer. Trumpet player. Ukulele player in the key of ‘F’. Member of 1930’s Dance Band, The Rhythm Rollers. Graduate of H. Faulkner Smith Academy of Fine Art in Vancouver. Car salesman. Private pilot. Air show organizer. Fireman. Fire chief. Town councillor. Lay minister for the United Church. Restaurant owner. Hiker. Senior citizen. Dog owner. Stockbroker. Hospital patient. Housing development project superintendent. Newsletter editor. Newspaper columnist. Advertising Salesman. Sales Manager. Commercial artist. Railroad rider in the dirty thirties. Dairy farmer. Hawaiian tour guide. Game show host. Owner of the world’s only Banana Belt. Limerick writer. Lived in Victoria. Lived in Vancouver. Pipe smoker. Amethyst Miner. Molybdenum Miner. Forester. Short order cook. Timber Cruiser. Square Dancer (not his best feat). Nonagenarian. Loved to eat. Once weighed 137 pounds. Poet. Read the complete Oxford Dictionary. Charter President of Telkwa Kinsmen. Charter President of Terrace Kiwanis. Founding member of the Lower Mainland Yacht Co-op. Designed and helped to build Cenotaph at Terrace City Hall. Walked forty miles from Kitimat to Terrace in a walk-a-thon. Had a cabin at Lakelse Lake. Fell in a cesspool while at the cabin. Was chased by a grizzly. Killed a bear. Was chased by a wolverine. Knocked himself out when a wolf spider jumped on his chest. Allergic to horses. Allergic to cats. Owned a second-hand antique store. Received personal Christmas cards from Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau. Married to Frankie for 66 years. Hospitalized for two years due to lung condition during WWII. Mountain climber. Dreamed of opening the Seven Sisters Trail system. Learned the computer when he was 72. Owned a Honda named Fenry. A natural-born cusser. Invented a logging game called ‘Timber.’ Designed his team’s winning sandcastle, ‘Paul Bunyan & his ox Babe.’ Was right handed. Wrote like a doctor. Best hand-lettering sign painter in the family. Read the adventures of Tom Sawyer, and the adventures of Huckleberry Finn on his KOBO Reader. Loved Cheese Whiz. Had all his own teeth. Named his walker ‘Johnny.’ Invented Tru-Kut Saw Guide. Designed and produced a gold pan kit. Designed and produced commemorative Last Spike for Engine 374. In the late 1950s, invented, and in the late 1960s, patented, Action Roll System for rolling and laying forestry fire hose. The ‘hose roller’ is still in use today by forest services around North America. Saved the White Rock Pier in the 1970s. Honoured by the City of White Rock and BC Government for saving the White Rock Pier in 2013. At age 90 he worked on a patent application for a new invention.
Art died peacefully on Sunday, October 19, 2014 at Westminster House after a life well-lived. His daughter, son-in-law, nephew and niece were with him.
Thanks and love from our family to the caring staff at Westminster House for their support, kindness and friendship, and to our family doctor, Dr. David Anderson. His best medicine was laughing at Dad’s jokes. If you want to honour Art, his wishes were that you hug a loved one, say hello to someone new, or make a donation to your favourite charity. (Allergies run in the family … no floral tributes, please.)
For seventeen years, I’ve had the joy of helping people book cruises. I started with Expedia Cruises, learning the ropes one sailing at a time, and eventually moved to Maritime Travel, where I could offer full‑service planning. I’ve always loved it — not just the bookings, but the people. Many of my clients stay in touch on Facebook and Instagram, and I get to follow along as they share their sunsets, glacier photos, and celebratory cocktails. It’s a lovely way to see the world through their eyes.
Last spring, I got a call from someone retiring early. “I want to go to Alaska on the Star Princess. Book the cheapest inside cabin — but make sure I get the premium beverage package.”
I knew this couple enjoyed fine wine and good scotch, so that request made perfect sense. Easy enough. Done.
Two weeks later, an email arrived: two more couples wanted to join them. One wanted the cheapest inside cabin, and the other preferred a balcony. All three couples wanted the premium alcohol package. They were longtime colleagues, close friends, and — as I would soon learn — enthusiastic partiers.
The second couple asked about bidding for an upgrade from the cheapest inside to a balcony. I told her, “Put in the lowest bid plus four dollars and hope for the best.” She laughed and said she’d try it.
Then came the surprise: they added me to their group WhatsApp chat.
Their group name? Cruisin’ Retired Bitches.
They all worked together, all heading into retirement together, and all absolutely thrilled about this trip. They have t-shirts for the cruise!
For the last three months, I’ve been part of their chatter — the jokes, the planning, the excitement, the countdowns, and the daily “What are you packing?” debates. It’s been delightful watching their energy build as the cruise gets closer.
And yesterday, the best news arrived:
The couple who booked the inside guarantee had their upgrade bid accepted. Not just any balcony — a deluxe mid‑ship balcony on the bump‑out, which means a huge private space with an incredible view. They were over the moon. The upgrade price was a total of $1,130.00 much cheaper than booking a balcony at the time they did but she took a chance and it worked for her. Then she showed a copy of her bottle return. She almost had enough bottles to pay for the upgrade. The post said "we party a lot"! I'm sure they will make good use of the Premium Alcohol Package!
That's one huge bottle refund!
I saw this online and thought they would love "Bar" bingo. I gave it to them with their tickets
Moments like this remind me why I love what I do. Cruises aren’t just itineraries and cabin categories. They’re celebrations, friendships, new chapters, and shared joy. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get invited along for the ride — even if it’s only through a WhatsApp group full of retired cruisers who know how to have fun.
My love for the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo began in 1990, on a summer coach tour around the UK. It was August, and tucked into our itinerary were tickets to the Tattoo — something I knew was special, but I had no idea just how deeply it would stay with me.
That night, sitting outdoors beneath the towering walls of Edinburgh Castle, I was completely swept away. The music, the precision, the pageantry, the massed pipes and drums echoing through the stone — it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I enjoyed the show so much that I quietly promised myself: one day, I’ll come back.
It took nearly three decades, but I kept that promise.
In 2018, Cec and I — along with our daughter, son‑in‑law, and granddaughter — booked a UK cruise with Princess Cruises. And this time, we made absolutely sure our plans included tickets to the Edinburgh Tattoo. The date of our performance was August 11th, which happened to be my son‑in‑law’s birthday. With his Scottish ancestry and previous visits to Scotland, it felt like a meaningful way to celebrate.
The show was every bit as magical as I remembered. Watching it again, this time with our family, made it even more special. Everyone loved it — the music, the colours, the military bands from around the world, and of course the iconic setting. There is simply nothing like sitting outdoors at night, with Edinburgh Castle illuminated behind the performers, the sound of the pipes rising into the sky.
Whenever someone tells me they’re planning a trip to Scotland, I always mention the Tattoo. It’s not just a performance — it’s an experience. A tradition. A celebration of culture and history that leaves you feeling proud, moved, and thoroughly entertained.
Every year, the BBC broadcasts a special featuring highlights and most of the show. If you ever have an hour and want to be transported, watch the video below. It captures the spirit beautifully, but nothing compares to being there in person, surrounded by the music and the castle walls.
For me, the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo will always be one of the great joys of travel — a promise kept, a tradition shared, and a memory that continues to shine.
Yesterday at Canada Place felt like one of those classic Vancouver cruise days—busy, bright, and full of anticipation. Three ships were in port, and two of them were true giants of the sea: Celebrity Edge, Royal Caribbean’s Ovation of the Seas, and the elegant Seabourn Encore.
The terminal buzzed from early morning onward. You could see excited passengers rolling their suitcases along the promenade, pausing to take photos of the ships towering over the harbour. The Edge and the Ovation, both large and modern, dominated the skyline with their sleek lines and colourful hull art. In contrast, the Seabourn Encore brought a quieter kind of luxury—smaller, refined, and unmistakably upscale.
For ship watchers, it was a perfect day. For travellers, it was the beginning of something special: new adventures, new ports, and that familiar thrill of stepping aboard. Canada Place has seen countless cruise days over the decades, but when three ships arrive together—especially ships of this calibre—it becomes a little celebration of travel right in the heart of the city.
The orange lift is a bar. When you tender, it rolls down to the waterline so people in wheelchairs have great access!
This ship has the nicest tenders! You can see they are proper chairs with a high back. So comfortable.
The North Star is a mechanical arm with a glass observation capsule
I couldn't get a good picture of the Seaborn Encore as the pier was crowded. I got this picture online. It's an ultra luxury ship with an all suite, all verandah design.
I read this and liked it so much, I thought I would share.
A Thank You Letter to President Trump, From a Grateful Canadian.
Somebody had to say it. Might as well be a real estate agent in Charlottetown.
Mr. President, on behalf of a country that has spent 158 years being pleasant, apologetic, and largely unnoticed , thank you. You have done more for Canadian self-awareness in a few years than a century of Heritage Minutes ever managed.
Thank you for reminding us there is an entire world out there that wants and needs what we produce, and for the shove, not always gentle, toward broadening our trade beyond one large, conveniently close customer.
Thank you for elevating the stature, the awareness, and the significance of Canada in the minds of Americans who, respectfully, were overdue for some education about their neighbour to the north.
Thank you for taking Canada from an occasional footnote or moose in a pool closing story in your news broadcasts to the lead story in many of them. Nothing sharpens a national identity quite like being talked about.
Thank you for reminding Canadians, and, to an even greater extent, Americans , that a democracy works best when its people are informed and educated enough to tell the difference between competence and an undeliverable promise.
Thank you for helping the world see that we matter, and for positioning us, almost by contrast, as a case study in good governance, fair trade, and ethical political practice.
Thank you for uniting Canadians from Victoria to St. John's around something we can all agree on, which, frankly, only ever happens on rare occasion during the Stanley Cup Playoffs.
Thank you for the great national rediscovery of the grocery store aisle, turns out reading the label on a jar of pickles is a patriotic act now.
Thank you for accelerating our exit from the habit of keeping all our eggs in one very large, unpredictable basket.
Thank you for the sudden, unusual spectacle of provincial premiers agreeing with each other, and occasionally with Ottawa.
Thank you for reminding snowbirds that a Canadian dollar buys rather more in our own stores in February than it does in Florida.
Thank you for helping us to remind ourselves that Canada is an exceptional place to travel and explore. You’ve also enlightened growing numbers of your own people to this fact.
We remain, as ever, your polite, and thanks to you, considerably harder to overlook neighbour to the north.
Surrey residents woke up this week to two separate public safety warnings — each announcing the release of a high‑risk violent offender into our city. According to the Surrey Police Service, Jonathon Anders Muzychka and Skylar Wayne Pelletier, both designated high‑risk offenders with histories of serious violent offences, will now be living in our community.
Two releases. Two days. One city expected to absorb the risk.
This is not acceptable.
Surrey is home to more than 700,000 people — families, children, seniors, and workers who deserve to feel safe in their neighbourhoods. Yet once again, Surrey is being asked to accommodate individuals who pose a significant risk to public safety.
Both Muzychka and Pelletier are subject to:
Extensive court‑ordered conditions
Electronic monitoring
Curfews
Ongoing police oversight
These conditions exist because authorities believe these individuals present a real and ongoing risk. And still, Surrey is chosen as the placement location — twice in two days.
Residents have every right to ask: Why Surrey? Why again?
Rehabilitation Matters — But So Does Fairness
I fully support rehabilitation. Successful reintegration must be part of any responsible justice system. But rehabilitation cannot come at the expense of community safety, nor should one city be repeatedly selected to house offenders who pose elevated risks.
Surrey is not a dumping ground for high‑risk placements.
Reintegration must be shared fairly across jurisdictions, not concentrated in a single community that is already managing rapid growth, complex policing challenges, and significant demands on social services.
Muzychka and Pelletier are not welcome in Surrey, and residents are justified in saying so.
That isn't me. I'm learning to use AI and it's a lot of fun!
I’ve lost enough weight that my white pants are finally comfortable again — and I’m wearing them.
Yes, it’s after Labour Day. And yes, I can already hear that old voice in the back of my mind saying, “You can’t wear white after Labour Day.”
Well… who said so? And more importantly, why did we ever listen?
Labour Day weekend always arrives with that bittersweet feeling: summer’s unofficial farewell. The last barbecues, the final dips in the pool, and then suddenly everyone is talking about cozy sweaters, pumpkin spice, and baking season. It’s lovely, of course — but it also comes with a handful of “rules” that never made much sense.
The biggest one? The idea that white clothing must be packed away the moment September rolls in.
I’ve heard it my whole life. You probably have too. White jeans, white pants, white linen — all supposedly destined for storage until next June. But honestly, that rule is so outdated it should come with a museum plaque. Even Ree Drummond jokes about it, saying the whole “no white after Labor Day” thing is right up there with “no casseroles before Labor Day.” In other words: nonsense.
And here’s the real truth. I’m going on a cruise in less than two weeks — to warmer weather, sunshine, and sea breezes — and my white pants are coming with me. I don’t care what the calendar says. They fit, they feel good, and they make me happy. That’s reason enough.
Fashion should never be about following dusty old rules. It should be about confidence, comfort, and joy. If white makes you feel bright and fresh in September, October, or even January, wear it. Pair it with a cozy sweater, a denim jacket, or a fall scarf. White isn’t a season — it’s a mood.
So here’s my little declaration as we head into autumn:
I’m keeping my white pants out, and I’m packing them for my cruise. The rule is gone, the myth is retired, and the suitcase is staying open for anything that makes me feel good.
After all, life is too short — and too colourful — to let an old fashion rule tell us what to wear.
On the evening of September 12, 2026, a black car pulled up outside the Plenitude Arena in Nanterre, on the western edge of Paris. Michelle Obama stepped out. She had crossed the Atlantic to attend the opening night of Céline Dion's residency, her first full concert in six years. The former first lady entered the arena discreetly, according to Le Parisien, which first reported her presence. She was not alone. Oprah Winfrey was seated beside her. The two American figures took their places in the pit, on folding chairs close to the stage, not in a VIP box. Shania Twain was also in the audience. Around them, some 30,000 fans filled the arena. The crowd wore sequined dresses and glittered cheeks. Many had traveled from across Europe and beyond. Some had flown in from Tahiti. The doors had opened hours earlier. The air was warm with anticipation. Inside, a stage shaped like a rocky landscape waited. The lights dimmed. A figure in a long pink coat stepped onto the stage. The room erupted. The show had begun.
Céline Dion opened with On ne change pas, a French ballad from the 1990s. She was visibly moved. Tears streamed down her face. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry," she told the crowd, according to the German Press Agency. She did not keep that promise. "Tonight, I want to sing for you, sing for myself, sing for life," she said. The performance lasted two and a half hours. She moved through her biggest hits: My Heart Will Go On, J'irai où tu iras, Pour que tu m'aimes encore. She sang a cover of Eurythmics' Sweet Dreams. She performed the operatic aria La Wally while snowflakes fell from the ceiling. Between songs, she spoke about the condition she lives with, a rare autoimmune disorder that causes stiffness and cramps. "I learned to live with this fragility," she said. "By living alongside it, I learned to tame it. I turned it into my strength to live." The crowd listened. The former first lady listened. The arena held the sound. The night continued.
The concert was the first of 26 shows at the Plenitude Arena, a residency scheduled to run into the following spring. The demand for tickets had been extraordinary. More than nine million fans entered a lottery for early access, according to Le Parisien. That figure surpassed the previous record in Paris, held by Taylor Swift. The arena holds roughly 30,000 people per night. Only about one in 164 lottery entrants could secure a seat. Michelle Obama was among the fortunate few. She had entered the pool, like millions of others, and she had won a place in the room. On this night, she sat in the pit, close enough to see the tears on the singer's face. When the show ended, the lights came up. The crowd filed out. The former first lady left the arena. The residency had begun. The record shows what happened next: 25 more shows, a city that had waited six years, and a singer who had kept her promise to return.
This year brings a first I never expected: I won’t be able to vote in our city election.
We leave on holidays one day before absentee ballots become available, and for the first time in my life, I’ll be sitting on the sidelines. I’ve already done my homework, I know exactly who I would vote for, and I’m still adjusting to the idea that my ballot won’t be part of the count.
Last Sunday, one of the candidates for Mayor actually came to our strata. In all my years of voting, I’ve never had a candidate show up at my door. It was a reminder of how personal and local municipal politics can be — and how much these decisions shape the neighbourhoods we live in.
A Crowded Race
We have seven people running for Mayor this time. With a field that full, it’s impossible to guess who might win — and I won’t try. I know who I would like to see in the role, but elections have a way of surprising us.
And then there’s council.
Sixty-six candidates.
I think that must be a record. It certainly feels like one. It’s almost dizzying to imagine voters trying to sort through that many names, backgrounds, and priorities.
Age and Leadership
One candidate for mayor is 82 years old. He’s served twice before, though he’s not the incumbent. If elected, his term would take him to age 86. I can’t help wishing we had an age limit for roles with this level of responsibility. Leadership demands stamina, clarity, and the ability to manage a city that’s growing and changing quickly. At some point, age becomes a factor — not out of disrespect, but out of realism.
Watching From Afar
Even though I won’t be casting a ballot, I’ll be following the results closely on my computer. Elections matter, especially municipal ones. They determine how our neighbourhoods grow, how our streets feel, and whether decisions are made for the people who live here — or for developers and special interest groups.
My hope is simple:
Whoever wins, let them serve with integrity, transparency, and a genuine commitment to the community.
That’s all any of us can ask for.
If anyone is looking to check out our home for cash or furniture, our cash comes with us and our furniture is old. My 24 year old grandson will be staying in our house. I hope his rottweiler doesn't bother our neighbours.
