Glenn Kubish

My bet is if I don’t consciously try to notice three things that made me happy or grateful each week, I’d notice only the things the algorithm wants me to notice, which would not be cool. So, I try to notice what I notice, and say them out loud. Here's this week's Three Things podcast .  1. Dough The pandemic has imprinted a few new habits on me. I wash my hands. I try not to touch my face.  For whatever reason, I have begun flossing my teeth.  I bake bread, too. Homemade bread My favorite part of baking bread happens after the stirring, mixing, beating and kneading, when the dough, in a ball, sits in a buttered bowl beneath a white tea towel, and, over the next 60 minutes, abracadabra, rises imperceptibly. And then my favorite part of the process happens, the punch down, which is what Auntie Shelagh typically takes care of. Sealed And then my favourite part of baking bread: the forming of the risen and punched down dough into shape. In one of the folds, the dough looks...

The pieces have been swirling around. On Facebook, my friend Steve had posted a winter-arrives-in-Edmonton pic with the advice to embrace the elements. For the first time, I heard elements. On Twitter. my friend Brett had retweeted the East Village news that Calgary's 9th Avenue cycle track between Macleod Trail and 4th Street was now open. "Your commute in and out of East Village has gotten a little bit sweeter." For the first time, I heard sweeter.  On the sidewalk along the 102 Ave bike lane in Edmonton, a parka'd child sat on the concrete, legs below the knees splayed out in the way we bend before growing inflexible, the bundled one's attention on a mitten full of snow, while, from above, the mother asked the question: "What do you think?" For the first time I heard the question directed at me. What do I, 56-year-old Glenn , think of winter weather? On the pedal home today, the pieces came together in a kind of equation from Grade 7.  CO 2   +  H 2 O...

At the Winter Bike Congress in Calgary earlier this month, I said, in a kind of convoluted manner that took six minutes and 40 seconds to spit out...I said, in 20 slides, some of which were painful to relive, some nostalgic...I said, in words I tried to get right in the one shot I had in front of some of the very people who I most wanted to say the word to...I said: thanks. Here's my Pecha Kucha called We Winter Together. This was me. Making a heartfelt point about Russia at last year's Pecha Kucha night in Moscow. I fell in with a stellar band of winter bike riders and storytellers that night. It would take me another month to fully appreciate what I'm doing in this picture. I mean, look! I am lifting my left arm. This was a month later. This was my left arm. My shoulder is fractured and dislocated. I fell off my bike. Like Caesar, I did not beware the ice of March. But I was aware of how beautiful the ride was on the decline before the fall! ...