The Brown Knowser

Yesterday, I talked about Twitter and the things that I like about using the service (I use the term service in the same sense that I think of my phone as a service, in that it's a tool for communication. Only Twitter is free). Twitter is one of the ways that I keep in touch with my community. Another way that I keep in touch with my community and members in it is through the blogosphere. I follow bloggers from all over the place, but more and more I'm starting to follow the bloggers in my city. Some of the local bloggers that I follow—regularly or occasionally—include the following: OttawaStart Ottawa Girl A Peek Inside The Fishbowl Peanut Butter Addiction I also take peeks at the blogs of some of my local peeps: notably, the blogs of @bnjmnwood , @hellokaitlin , @MissCharleston , @ALL_CAPS , @sherrilynne , and so many more. So it's no surprise that when I heard about Blog Out Loud , I wanted to go. What is Blog Out Loud? Well, as the event's organizer,...

When I joined Twitter, last September, I did so reluctantly. Actually, I was told by the missus to do it, and being the obedient husband that I am, I complied unconditionally. Or so the story goes. That's my story, your honour, and I'm not changing it! Last September, Lori went to Taiwan for a couple of weeks, on business, and she figured that if we were connected through Twitter, we could contact each other quickly; faster, she thought, than through e-mail. Cheaper, she thought, than a text message from the other side of the planet. It was a great idea. Only, Lori never Tweeted, except for when she was at a Starbucks or at the various airports, using the free WiFi wherever she found it, which only happened at the beginning and end of her trip, and only once or twice while she was in Taipei. I was duped, I thought: in the two weeks that Lori was away, I tweeted far more times than she did; being more of a socially networked kind of person, I reached out far more than she...

</ br> On the final day that I was planning to reveal the seventh and final clue for my Where In Ottawa contest, I am happy to announce that I have a winner. It seems that I have something to say, after all! </ br> The location is the Hope Chambers building, also known as Bible House, at 61 Sparks Street—right next to the post office, the site of my second contest location (not planned, it just happened that way). Congratulations to Steph Piche, a.k.a. Voiceless Wonder . </ br> Here is a breakdown of the clues:</ br> Above all Hope—as the name of the building suggests, it is the original location of booksellers and stationers, James Hope & Sons. The carving in the photo stands atop (above) the building. 4 lions below—on either end of the building are doors, which are covered with flat awnings that are adorned with lion heads. The home of a good book?—Bible House. Need I say more? Seen by a Queen—the queen, in this case, is Queen Street, one blo...

It had to happen eventually. I have nothing to say. And so, I'll leave you with a photo instead of words. This is one of the pictures that I took on the night that I lost my cell phone. I have to admit: if I was going to lose my phone somewhere, this was a great place to lose it.

Monica wasn't my mom. We weren't even blood relatives. But to say that she had a big influence on me is a gross understatement. No, Monica wasn't my mom. She could never replace my own mother. But I always thought of Monica as mom away from mom; her house was my home away from home. When I was at her house, hanging out with my best friend, Stu, Monica always made me feel like I was part of the family. Always made me feel welcome. I was invited to family dinners, whether eating in or going out. I was welcomed into the house for family movie night, eating cherry ice cream and laughing at bad films. When Stuart's birthday came around, I was always invited over for cake. It was always the same cake: Angel food cake with a light-green frosting and tiny, multi-coloured sprinkles on top. That cake came to Stu every year that I knew him, growing up in his Parkwood Hills home. I came to expect it. I think that if any other cake showed up on the dining room table, I would ...

You know, I really shouldn't complain. I'm a lucky guy. As some of you know, I sent my book to a publisher earlier this month , and I'm crossing my fingers that it will be in the bookstores later this fall. I'm over the moon about this. Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary has been on my plate for almost 10 years (my full-time job and two kids took precedence) and it's nice to know that it's finally getting out there. Soon. When I sent the book to my publisher, I sort of forgot that they would be reading the book and providing me with an editorial assessment. A comprehensive review of how they feel the flow, pace, structure, plot, grammar, and other elements of the book work: what they feel is good and how they think areas can be improved. The publishers want to help me reach the book's full potential, and I really appreciate a professional opinion of my work. Last week, I received my assessment, but because I was so busy at work I didn't have a chance to...

It's called the Barrhaven Vietnamese Restaurant. It's not exactly what you would call a creative name, not like the Cam Kong, or Nu Pho, or any of the other Vietnamese names. The sign outside simply states what the establishment is: a Vietnamese restaurant, in Barrhaven. What the restaurant lacks in an elegant name, it makes up for in the quality of the food. It is one of the best Vietnamese restaurants in the city. The vegetables are always fresh; the grilled beef, chicken, pork, and shrimp, always scrumptious. Among the favourite dishes are the shrimp summer rolls, the vermacelli bowls, and the wrap-n-roll platter—grilled meats, chopped and shredded veggies, and rice paper, ready to assemble and pop into your watering mouth. The service is friendly and fast. The ambience is warm and inviting. The washrooms, immaculate. The Barrhaven Vietnamese Restaurant is, by far, the best restaurant in the community. More formal than a family restaurant (though it is kid-friendly) b...

All right, just calm down. Don't get excited. This post is sort of addressed to all my friends who I told I would never switch over to Mac. I'm a PC guy, have been for decades. Not because I feel that it's a superior product. Not because I like giving money to Microsoft. It's just what I started with, what I had been exposed to more, and what I'm comfortable with. And it's not like I've never used a Mac. Back in the late 80s, when I worked for The Low Down to Hull and Back News , in Wakefield, Québec, I wrote my stories on a Macintosh. It got the job done. To me, a computer is a tool: as long as it gets the job done, I'm happy. I don't want to have to figure anything out. I don't care about code. I don't care to configure. Sometime, in the early 90s, my friends seemed to split into two camps: Mac lovers and PC users. There was a clear distinction: those who owned a Mac loved their Mac; they were hooked on the brand. They sang its prais...

It's been a while, but it's back. The third installment of Where In Ottawa starts today. The first person who correctly identifies the Ottawa landmark in this post will win one of the following prizes: A PDF copy of my book, Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary A book from my library, written by another author (don't worry, it'll be good) The contest will close as soon as the location is sent to me as a comment to this post. Sorry, no tweets. Here's the photo: Good luck!

It's a beautiful, sunny day in my neighbourhood. As we say goodbye to spring and hello to summer, I thought I'd share what's growing in our garden, despite the outdoor water ban. Of course, flowers aren't the only signs of life in our neighbourhood... Happy Saturday!

This was harder than I thought! I spent a good deal of time last night, trying to come up with a new title for my blog. One suggestion that was sent to me, Mostly Harmless , came very close but, as much as I love Douglas Adams, I didn't feel right stealing his discription of Earth in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy . It's bad enough that I use it in my bio for Twitter. I wanted something to sound official, so that if I ever found myself at an event and needed a media pass , I could say "I write for... (insert official-sounding news title here)." I almost used the name for my original blog, but Lori put her foot down on that one. And so we brainstormed. The Brown Knowser it is. I love the play on words. It makes me glad that my name is Brown. What do you think? Thanks to those who sent in suggestions.

I don't know how to start this post. And that's not often a problem for me. Usually, when I set out to write a blog post, I have an idea how I want to start it and basically what I want to say. I just start typing and as I go the words tend to come so quickly that most of them are gone by the time my fingers catch up. More often than not, what I plan to write doesn't actually make it in my post because my thoughts are fleeting. An express train of thought, with no stops along the way. And often, as I'm sure you're aware, it's more like a train-wreck. My express-train-wreck of thoughts. Hence the subtitle. And now a side line: I want to change the title of this blog. The Other Blog was cute for maybe the first day—and maybe only cute to me. But now that this is my primary blog, I need something more substantial. Two weeks is long enough to be content at leaving the title where it is. So let's continue with this particular train of thought, shall we? ...

Every year, it seems that we get closer to realizing the visions of Gene Roddenberry. The technology of Star Trek is the technology of today. Mobile phones from communicators (don't tell me the flip phone doesn't bear a striking resemblance); transporters (at the sub-atomic level, for now); antimatter (I know, it's not technology, but it's something that we only talked about until recently); touch-screens (more Next Generation than Roddenberry's original vision, but he was still ahead of the times) * . And now we have touchable holograms. Observe... Mark my words: within 10 years, there will be holodecks opening up in Tokyo. * Yeah, I know. This post reveals the geeky side of me. I apologize for nothing.

WTF, Shoppers Drug Mart?? This weekend, I went to my mailbox and retrieved my latest assortment of bills and junk mail, when I came upon the following advertising that had my name and address on it. What makes them think I'm the kind of guy who A) colours his hair, and/or B) needs to colour his hair? That's one mighty big assumption that this company is making. Granted, I'm 46. But I'm a pretty young-looking 46. I've been told that I could pass for someone in his early to mid thirties. That's probably because, most of the time, I act like I'm 12. I rarely shop at SDM. The only reason that the company has my name and address is because several years ago—either before my oldest kid was born or shortly afterwards—I went to our neighbourhood drug store to purchase passes for the Ottawa Tulip Festival, and I was told by the cashier that if I signed up for their rewards card, I could earn an immediate, substantial discount on the festival passes. And so...

It's nice to see that what I learned in journalism school still holds true: act as though you belong and no one will bother you. I can be cheeky too, but not like this. I first heard about the Underwear Affair a few months ago. I had seen posters for it in Westboro. It's a worthwhile cause: a 10-kilometre and 5-kilometre run to raise money for all cancers that strike below the belt, such as ovarian, prostate, and testicular. Runners hit the courses dressed in their underwear to raise more awareness for the cause. When I learned that one of my Twitter peeps was running in the event, I was more than happy to make a donation. I also started looking into the event, and learned that there was a pre-race party and costume contest. Curious, I grabbed my camera and headed to Carleton University. At first, I was a little shy and didn't want to draw attention to myself, so I strolled nonchalantly through the crowds of scantily clad people, taking the odd picture from a dista...

I'm taking a short writing break. Here's a picture of the War Memorial, at sunset on Tuesday, with the Chateau Laurier.

Well, my readers have spoken. Scratch that: they haven't spoken, and that was a message that I received, loud and clear. Last week, I called on you to send me questions, to ask me for an opinion, for advice, or for answers on any topic, and I would respond in whatever way I thought best. I'd tell you what I knew. And what I didn't know, I'd make up. I take it, by the lack of responses, that you're not interested. Fair enough. Feel free to send any questions to rossbrownfoot@live.com whenever you want. I'll add the Ask Ross post whenever. I've got time. I'm not going anywhere. Speaking of going anywhere, on my morning commute I asked myself, "where did everybody go?" On days that I awake early and ride the bus to work, I'm a creature of habit. My alarm goes off at 4:45 and I perform my morning ritual of getting ready and getting out the door by 5:25. I've been performing this routine for years. Only recently, my routine ch...

For Part One, go here . Last week, after I left the office, I walked down the block to the corner Esso station, where I bought another sheet of STO bus tickets. I was completely out, and without tickets I couldn't get home. And it had been a long day—I wanted to get home as quickly as possible. The lineup at the counter in the station was unusually long. An elderly lady was buying lottery tickets and decided that she'd strike up a conversation with the clerk, despite the people lined up behind her. I grew nervous, fearful that I would miss the bus. Depending on when it came, and how quickly I could purchase my tickets, I could either catch the bus when it pulled up in front of the Esso or sprint to where I usually catch it, near my office, while it cut through the subdivision behind us. While I stood in line, I noticed a man looking at me. He was a couple of years younger than me and was dressed in a white t-shirt and khaki shorts. I felt a little uncomfortable being star...

DISCLAIMER: this post, in no way, shape, or form, should be interpreted as any expression of regret with the life I live. I love the way that my life has unfolded: I'm happy with my career path, I love my home, I adore my children and am thankful for them every day, and I worship my wife, without whom I would be hopelessly lost. I wouldn't change my life for the world. This post returns to a time before my life really started. It has nothing to do with the now. Think of it as fiction, even though it's not. *** I fell in love with Laura the moment I saw her. It was something about her eyes, the way they laughed. She had laughing eyes. They were always happy. When she actually laughed, her joy was infectious. And I will always remember the smile on her face, the electric-red lipstick on olive skin, and the glowing white teeth. To say that Laura was gorgeous was a gross understatement. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Any woman that would come close to ma...