In which a twelve-hour day makes Paul a dull boy...

Trade shows are lame. They take away from my time playing in the snow with the puppy.

For those of you sequestered in remotest Vancouver, you should know that Burnaby got a solid foot of the finest white powder in the last 24 hours. Notwithstanding the 45 minutes I waited patiently for the Skytrain this morning, snow remains the greatest thing ever, and I'll never stop loving this weather.

For those of you who hate snow and need to see the error of your ways, the key is to have a puppy. Despite having seen snow only a handful of times in her short life, Tempo sits eagerly at the window after every flurry and stares mournfully outside. Once unleashed, she tears madly into every snowbank, driving her nose gleefully into the frost. She emerges sneezing, bouncing, and wagging madly. She's obsessed with catching snowballs, which explode gloriously when she collides with them. She waits patiently for me, across the yard, to hoist a vast and fragile double-armful of snow, so that she can sprint furiously and careen headlong into me and witness the joyous results. Anyone who despises this weather simply needs to see Tempo at play in the snow.