It was “70s Day” at Oliver’s high school today, and, after a complex series of negotiations, he proposed dressing up as Gene Wilder’s character from the 1971 Willy Wonka film.

While a purple waistcoat of Catherine’s and a green bow tie filled most of Oliver’s needs, a top hat was needed. But, if you can believe it, our top hat cupboard was bare.

With the clock ticking, I managed to convert a bright green St. Patrick’s Day hat and two sacrificial pillow cases into a reasonable facsimile.

I haven’t been called to such heights of urgent crafting since the Hallowe’en cow costume of 2002.

Oliver turned 17 years old today, an event greeted by all manner of congratulatory messages, both in person and over the wire from Malmö to Montreal.

Oliver’s been sick with a cold for a week so Catherine’s been in immune-compromised bio-seclusion, staying with friends. We temporarily broke her quarantine this morning to have birthday breakfast at Casa Mia; we’re hoping the ill clears soon so she can come home. We miss her.

As we delayed Oliver’s formal birthday party until later in the week (theme: “solstices”), I took him out to the movies (“Home Again”) and for ribs afterwards.

We spent most of our meal trying to remember the name of a film we saw several years ago at The Oxford in Halifax, a film Oliver described as “a risque movie about an old man who lives on a boat who meets an old woman who plays tables games.”

It was only when we got home, and he looked up the review of the film he’d done for Language Arts at school in 2015, that we found its title, “I’ll See You in my Dreams.”

When I look back at photos of Oliver when he was 13, on the cusp of Catherine’s cancer diagnosis and the more fraught phase of our family’s life together, he’s a young teenager; today he’s a young adult.

Oliver’s been through a lot in the intervening years, and yet through it all he remains a funny, creative, caring, thoughtful person, aware of his challenges but not defined by them.

Happy birthday, son. I love you.

While it lacks the onomastic panache of Burger Love or Porktoberfest, the Island’s nascent Veg It Up!, a challenge to restaurants to highlight a vegetarian or vegan entree, is a commendable effort.

And this year is better than ever.

Oliver and I started late, but with determination.

Last night we enjoyed the “Island Comfort” at Mavor’s (cashew, almond & mushroom loaf served with a velvety parsnip puree, a duo of salted baked beets & roasted island reds & crunchy chickpeas). It was fantastic; the parsnip puree and the chickpeas especially.

Tonight we attempted to ascend the “Gahan Cajun Lime Tofu Scramble” at Gahan House, but they were inexplicably packed, with a 45 minute wait for a table.

So we decamped across the street to the Brickhouse, where we sat at the Chef’s Table and enjoyed the Mac and Cheese, described as “a vegan take on the traditional and classic mac and cheese., Paired with a Fall beet salad.”

It was fantastic, and the absence of cheese wasn’t missed at all (I’ve no idea what played its role, but it was satisfyingly good).

You’ve got one more day to Veg It Up; it all wraps up tomorrow. Kudos to the folks at Veg PEI for organizing this; it’s nice to indulge in competitive culinary antics where no animals need be sacrificed.

In winter Ethan disappears into the snow of the back yard. In autumn, however, he loses all camouflage.

I’m really happy with the way this sketch turned out: I think I’m finally starting to figure out how light and reflection works. I’m especially proud of the metal thingy at the end of the pencil.

As if in reaction to its dying days as a soda pop provider to Colonel Gray Senior High, my way was blocked this morning by a Pepsi transport truck filling up the parking lot.

Back in the heyday, when web browsers were emerging out of the ocean and onto land, we’d eagerly await new releases of Netscape in a way that kids to day anticipate a new Taylor Swift album dropping.

In recent years, however, browser excitement has waned.

And so we don’t talk about browsers too much.

But I wanted to mention the version of Firefox that’s making its way through the beta process as we speak: Firefox Quantum.

I’ve been using it, via the Developer Edition, since Monday and it flies.

It’s also the most polished and refined Firefox in years.

Give it a try.

This last weekend saw the Flotilla conference of artist-run centres come to Charlottetown. What the event lacked in penetrability, it more than made up for in pretense, and the pretense perhaps ran no higher than on the corner of Great George and Kent where a pop-up bookshop was housed in the corner of a vacant storefront.

The shelves of the bookshop, an outpost of Vancouver’s Or Gallery, supplemented by a call for submissions, were stocked with a delightful and well-curated collection of art catalogues, art projects, artist books and art miscellania, all arranged preciously on pop-up shelves. The shop was overseen by a clerk with hiccups; I wasn’t certain whether the hiccups were part of the conceit or not, but, regardless, she played her part well.

While the last thing I need in my life is more art miscellania, I was intrigued by a cassette tape on offer. Not so much for its content, which itself was suitably opaque, but rather for the notion of a cassette tape being on sale at all in 2017.

I have the gift of owning an automobile that still sports a cassette tape player–that’s all it sports; it’s pre-CD and pre-Bluetooth and even pre-AUX. And yet there hasn’t been a cassette tape in it in more than 15 years. So I gave $5 to the hiccuping clerk, and passed, satisfied, back into less rarified civilian air.

The cassette turned out to consist of an interview of one artist by another artist about the music that’s influenced their artistic practice. The music is wide-ranging, from Thai Rock to Sumatran ballads to Syrian synthpop.

I love it.

Driving around town listening to the cassette I realized that I miss the format.

I just popped it into the cassette player and it played.

I didn’t have to enter my Apple ID.

I didn’t have to pair a device with another device.

I didn’t even have to press “play.”

When I turn the car off, the cassette stops playing; when I turn the car back on, the cassette starts back up again. What delightful simplicity we’ve lost.

And, more importantly, once I’ve listened the cassette out, I can pop it out of the player and loan it to my friend Paul. Who can play it for his kids on the cassette player in his car. And when he gives it back to me I can loan it to my friend Josh. Who can loan it to his friend Sam. In the streaming era we’ve entirely lost this ability: 20 years into the web, there remains no way to share music with friends that’s got all the features of the cassette.

I missed the rest of Flotilla in a haze of caring for a child-with-head-cold. But I’m grateful to Flotilla for the gift of this realization.

I got an email this morning from Netflix informing me that my monthly bill is going up; in part:

The cost of your Netflix membership will increase to $10.99 on Monday, October 23rd 2017. Why? So we can add more of what you like to watch, from Wreck Trek to Atypical. Awesome entertainment built around you is what we’re all about. We’ve enhanced our features so you can download your favorites and watch without wifi, too.

The brilliant part of this email is that Netflix mentioned Wreck Trek and Atypical, two shows that Netflix knows I watched every episode of recently.

This was subtle enough to not seem creepy, and it was enough to dull some of the pain of the increase.