In most (if not all) other provinces where gambling is legal in Canada, a portion of the proceeds are pooled and doled out to non-profits via traditional funding proposals. These funds are just another charitable foundation pot of money that professional fundraisers can access.

But in Alberta, it’s way different. Non-profit groups register for and volunteer at the casinos throughout the year, usually on a 1-2 year rotation because there are so many groups wishing to be involved. Proceeds are calculated quarterly and each volunteer non-profit group receives it’s payout. Payouts are equally divided among all groups during that quarter.

Now, these payouts are substantial. I am a member of a non-profit board and know that in the past we have received between $70,000 and $80,000 for our organization volunteering at a casino. That’s for 32 volunteers working 8 hour shifts over 2 days.  Do the math – it’s over $300 per volunteer hour!

Yet, despite this math, there are always stories about how hard it is for some organizations to get volunteers. And I can’t figure this out. Each volunteer who works a casino shift brings their charity organization well over $2,000 in funds. Short of writing a cheque for that amount, there’s few if any other fundraising efforts with such amazing returns. Not bingos. Not charity auctions. Not coupon book fundraising. Not benefit concerts. Nothing.

And working a casino is kinda fun. You get to deal with large sums of money – my float last weekend was over $500,000 in cash and chips – and you always meet someone new from the organization you are supporting. Plus, the people watching at a casino is second to none – if you’re into that kind of thing.

Now, I know there is a complex and thorny moral question that is worth considering. I know that gambling has its victims and impacts the social fabric of our society in ways that can be devastating. I’m not debating or defending it here – I’m simply pointing out the pragmatism of how it’s organized in Alberta.

So, here’s my pitch. If you are a beneficiary of any non-profit organizations (schools, charities, foundations) or if you have a special place in your heart for a cause, contact the organization and offer to volunteer for their casino.

It’s the best 8 hours of volunteer time you’ll ever give – and a real advantage of being in Alberta.

Our dream daughter Maddy turned 18 today and life is about to change.

First, no more permission forms. At 18, she can grant herself permission to go on field trips at school and even excuse herself from class. And there’s no point making her doctor’s appointments anymore because the doctor can’t, by law, tell you anything about her medical condition because it’s private.

Great. Does that mean she can cook for herself (and maybe even for us sometimes), keep her room in reasonable order, walk her dog and do her other basic responsibilities without being told to? Ha! Fat chance.

Even mature children who excel academically and are generally nice to be around need to be taught how to be good housemates. And so, as we move into this next stage of life and the evolution of our parent-child relationship, I am filled with genuine excitement about the process of watching Maddy develop into the person she is becoming.

Who is she becoming? A young woman of incredible intellectual capability. Someone with a critical mind who can search for the truth and not accept what is spoon-fed to her as such. A committed friend who shows loyalty in her relationships to a few special people, rather than to large numbers of acquaintances. A compassionate and loving sister who, more often than not, is a nurturing caregiver to her younger siblings.

Is she an angel? Yes, in the sense that we feel blessed to have her in our lives. But, like all terrestrial angels, she’s evolving – making mistakes, changing, going through stages and improving with time.

So happy 18th birthday to Madelynne Elizabeth, AKA Maddy, our evolving angel. We love you!

I had my own business to do today so I showered and shaved before taking the kids to school. Being a social media consultant most days is a bit like being a radio host – it doesn’t matter what you look like. But when I walk out the door, I like to be presentable.

On route to my meeting, I dropped off some laundry, picked up some alterations and grabbed a Shabbat challah at Bon Ton – my favourite Edmonton bake shop. The meeting went well. The project is exciting. And I like the client.

On the way back from the meeting I grabbed an early lunch falafel at Dahlia’s – my favourite Edmonton mid-east eatery. So far so good. Some productive work time at the home office, a good telephone conversation with another prospect and I was rushing off to get the kids.

I dropped Ella and her playmate off at our house for a playdate supervised by Maddy, while Ben and I went to get our ears lowered. On the way back, we stopped at WEM to grab Ben some new pants for our first Edmonton Bat Mitzvah tomorrow. Then after that at the grocery store to get stuff for dinner.

Arriving at home at 5:37 pm, I proceeded to smash some ground beef together with the intention of making a couple of meatloaves for dinner. What was I thinking, I think. At 6:02, I announce to the kids that dinner will be a bit late tonight.

“What are you making, Daddy?” Ella asks.

“Meatloaf’” I reply, proudly.

“Ohh, Daddy,” she says, her voice cracking. “You promised we could have Bubbe Pat’s chicken fingers.” Then the beginning of the waterworks.

The chicken fingers referred to are simple breaded and fried chicken pieces to which Ella (and I) have formed an emotional attachment – both because of the way they taste and the way they remind us of my mother.

“Honey,” I plead. “I’m so sorry. I totally forgot that I promised…but I can’t make them now because I have two meatloaves in the oven.”

“But I don’t like meatloaf. And you promised.” She had me there.

“How about I make them for you on…Sunday?” I offered.

“How about tomorrow?” she countered. She can be wily.

I explained that we (her mother and I) were out tomorrow night, so that was not an option. This only made things worse.

I left the room thinking she’d just have to deal with it. What was I supposed to do?

Two minutes later I was in the freezer looking for a couple of boneless chicken breasts. I had to, right? I mean, I had promised and then forgotten. You can’t do that to your kid, right? It’s not fair.

Regardless of whether it was necessary or not, it created the opportunity for an invention. I began to thaw the chicken pieces in the microwave. It was partially thawed, but still frozen hard in the middle after a few minutes. Then I realized that I could cut each breast into thin  - half a centimeter, or so – slices and work with those . So I dredged the little frozen, raw chicken medallions in flour, followed by egg and ending in bread crumbs seasoned with salt, pepper and garlic powder. Into the hot oil they went, cooking up all crispy and brown.  So now for our dinner, we now had 2 large meatloaves and a couple of dozen small chicken nuggets – for four of us.

In the midst of all this rushing, there came a cry from the family room which – to make a long story short and avoid the part where I yelled and made Ella cry – ended up in two tired and hungry kids getting showered and into their pajamas. When Ella came back down to the kitchen, I showed her what I had done and asked her if she know why I did it.

“Because I didn’t want meatloaf?”

“No, because I made a promise to you. And because I love you.” She came over an hugged me.

You know, there is so much that goes into a day sometimes – the meetings and the driving and working and the shopping and the cooking and the feelings. It really can be exhausting – but I wouldn’t trade that hug for anything in the world.

For quite a while, I’ve been thinking about it and planning for it and wondering: Is there room out there for another dad blog? There are thousands of blogs written by dads about being dads. As I explore them, I continue to find incredibly articulate and sensitive men discussing their roles as caregivers and parents and and father and husbands. Some work outside the home, while some work at home. There are intellectual dads, superhero dads, feminist dads, gay dads (there’s even a lesbian dad out there). There are dads that do diapers and dads that do windows.

What could I have to offer that is fresh and new – or that people want to read? I’m just a guy who has decided that caring for my kids and family is as important as anything else I can do with my life. And I think that opening my heart and talking about it is both good for me and maybe for other dads out there as well.

I guess it remains to be seen whether that amounts to an interesting blog or not.

But for my loyal readers of this blog, give the new one a try. You’ll find a design and writing style that is familiar and signifies less of a departure for me than a deeper exploration of a particular theme. I invite you to add a comment on a topic of interest. Please send the link to someone you know who might like it – a dad, a mom, a grandma, a friend. Come back for a visit once in a while. I’ll make you some chicken soup and we can talk…

(Don’t worry. I have no intention of abandoning Newish In Edmonton. I’ve just found another project I care about.)

Oh, in case you are wondering, the new blog is called home made dad and can be found at homemadedad.ca.

Don’t be a stranger.

I call it the 15 second warning. Here’s how it goes:

“Dad, I’m not feeling well.”

14, 13, 12…

“Are you going to throw up?” I ask from the driver’s seat.

10, 9, 8, 7…

“I just need some fresh air.”

Oh no, “fresh air”. That means I only have 5 seconds!

5, 4, 3…

Watch the road, look for a safe turn-off. Does he have a bag? What’s he wearing? What’s in front of him?

Then, the sound of the window going down.

2, 1…

(Insert vomiting sound coming from backseat. Imagine the rest.)

We’ve been on the road this past week, driving from Edmonton to Lake Louise, then onto Kamloops for a visit with an old, old friend. Now, we are in Kelowna enjoying a magnificient view, moderate temperatures and clear blue skies (i.e., no smoke from the BC forest fires).

Unfortunately, we are without Maddy who traveled to Toronto to visit friends and family before school starts again in September. And that got me to thinking about three – as in three kids.

From the very first day I met Maddy, she has been sweet and open-hearted. And this is how she is on a day-to-day basis (generally speaking) with her siblings. And I can’t stress how great it is to have an older sibling around for the little ones – and I’m not just referring to the care-giving aspect (though that fact is very helpful). Just having an teenager around who is generally a good example will hopefully help all of us when the twosome reaches their teen years.

Having twins has also been a blessing. There are many ways to have a family, but having some twins in the mix is a wonderful thing. They are at least double the fun, but rarely double the work. There are efficiencies of having them at the same stage of life and they are good friends to each other most of the time. When one of them is having a hard time, the other one usually wants to comfort and help. It is very sweet to watch.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how our perfect our family is. But Maddy is a year away from going to university. We’ve been talking about the U of A in Edmonton (that’s where she worked this summer) and that would mean we could have her around. But there are benefits (that come with additional costs) of her attending her undergraduate schooling away from home – independence and self-sufficiency at the top of the list. If I was going to bet, I’d say she will decide to stay in Edmonton.

Which brings me to my recent thinking. I think it’s time for a new blog. Don’t worry though, I won’t abandon this one. But I’ve been thinking its time to dedicate an entire blog to the homemaking dad. More and more dads are being called upon to play a bigger role in – even shoulder the majority of responsibility for – child care and homemaking. Yet, most dads haven’t learned how. Their dads certainly didn’t teach them. And their moms couldn’t get them to clean up after themselves, let alone make a good vinagrette or press a dress shirt.

I learned early to be a homemaker and a food person, rather than an amateur plumber, renovator or home repairman. And I learned from my mother. She expected us to help with the dusting a vacuuming and we learned to cook basic stuff. She taught me how to iron a shirt, make a bed with hospital corners, and make a good vinagrette.

There is much to share and I’ve been thinking a lot about it for a few months. Tell me what you think.

Pedalheads is a summer camp for cycling. And being an avid cyclist, I wanted the kids to learn. Several parents in our circle recommended this camp with very high praise. “Your kids go in with no riding knowledge and them come out knowing how to ride,” one mother said.

So, when I checked the web site in February, a few days after the site opened for summer camp registration, I was amazed to find that there were very few spots to choose from. And it was expensive. But everyone speaks so highly of it, so I signed them up for the first week of summer for the 9:30 to noon camp.

In May, we got the twins a couple of new bikes and started some practice riding on the the school field. It was a bit of a struggle, but we were making some progress. I was hopeful that the Pedalheads experience would help them over the hump.

July 5 finally arrived. I remember it was cool (not much more than 10 degrees) and raining when we headed to camp. By all accounts, they were having fun and the counselors were very nice. But at the end of the week, lo and behold, they could not ride on their own. I was disappointed; they were disheartened. Our expectations were shattered.

I thought a lot about it and decided to write the Pedalheads people. I was a bit angry – here we were paying top dollar for a highly recommended camp and nothing to show for it. My complaint was a matter of principle: if you’re going to charge top dollar for a cycling camp, then deliver results.

Within less than 24 hours of sending the email, I received a phone call from one of the top Pedalheads. She was concerned, apologetic and interested in fulfilling our expectations. And she offered us an opportunity to redo the camp at no charge – which we accepted.

I am happy to report that Pedalheads delivered. It may have taken twice as much time, but by the end of this past week both Ben and Ella were riding on their own (more or less). They were very proud of themselves and are getting more confident. And when they are happy, I am happy – both as a parent and a customer.

Kudos to Pedalheads. They proved they are a top class operation.

“If you eat a couple of carrots, you can have another piece,” I suggested, ever the parent.

“I’m not a vegetarian,” said my boy. “I’m a caketarian.”

This was a new coinage for me and it led me to do a little investigation. Like all such investigations, I started at Google. Initially, Google didn’t think I had typed what I meant to type and suggested that perhaps I was dyslexic and was really looking for information about “caketrain”. At first glance, caketrain makes less sense to me than the keyword I was  searching. What on earth is a caketrain anyway? (That is a strictly rhetorical question. I could write an article about caketrain using Google as my guide, but that would be a waste of everyone’s time, right?)

Not too surprisingly, my son was not the first person ever to utter the word caketarian or think of combining the term for someone who eats only vegetables with a food that he (and many others) find much more appetizing. There are a few mentions in blog comments or other online discussions and caketarian seems to be popular online as an emblem on a line of novelty clothing. But he was certainly among the first, judging from Google’s dearth of results (only four pages of search results) – which is rather impressive for a seven year-old.

Now, it’s entirely plausible that he heard this word while watching one of those smart aleck characters on one of those smart aleck television shows that seem to have as their mission to create smart aleck viewers. In which case, he’s just a mimic. But he assures me otherwise.

A recent article in the New York Times examined the implications of the web that never forgets. Regrettable actions and past histories are never forgotten on the web – with serious human implications.

But for the web that never forgets, I declare: Let it not be forgotten that seven year old Ben Palter was among the first ever to use the term caketarian while trying to avoid eating his carrots.

Necessity is truly the mother of invention. (Anyone know who was the first to say that?)

He would always want one. And I would always say no. Always. It just seemed to me to be a waste of money. An obvious rip-off. Each time we pass there, he asks. And each time I say no. This has gone on for a few years.

Tonight would be different. It was our first trip back to Toronto since moving away and we were going to do it differently this time.

“Maybe tonight, Ben.”

“What do you mean?” he replied.

“If you are well-behaved through dinner, this may be your lucky night.” I’m not sure he understood my meaning.

On our way back to the car after dinner, it was Ella who peeped up: “Daddy, what did you mean about what you said before? About being lucky?” Who knew she was paying attention? But Ella always pays attention.

“I meant, Ella, that tonight you and Ben can get a toy.”

“It’s alright, Dad,” Ben responded. “You don’t have to buy one. It’s a waste of your money. You don’t need to get it.”

Was he playing reverse psychology on me?

“No. Tonight you can get one, Ben. I want you to have it.”

So off they went with their toonies. They returned with a little stuffed toy that probably costs less than 5 cents to make in China. But they were happy – over the moon happy.

As we drove off, they sat in the back and played with their toys.

“You’re the best dad a boy could have,” Ben said from behind.

I smiled the hugest smile. Warmth filled my heart and I detected a slight moistening in my eyes.

That was the best toonie I ever spent.

We get one month of summer – if we are lucky. July. And my friend Joan says by late July you can already feel it turning, cooling off – cycling down into the depths of winter. Well, she didn’t put it that way exactly, but that’s what I heard.

Weatherwise, the week didn’t start out – or finish off – very nicely. Rain fell Monday morning for the twins’ first Pedalheads camp session and it poured again last night in the middle of our extended family BBQ. (Who knew? We have a whole whack of cousins in Edmonton!)

But the middle of the week was summery and we tried to make the best of it. The twins only had half days of camp this week, so we did some other fun stuff in the afternoons.

On Tuesday, Ella wanted to have a picnic. “Daddy, why don’t we go on as many picnics as we used to?” Seriously, we’ve gone on maybe 3 or 4 picnics in her whole life. But you can’t say no to Ella.

So I packed our picnic basket – the one we got as a wedding present 10 years ago – and headed down to Laurier Park. Tuna wraps and PB&J sandwiches, carrots and celery with dip, iced tea and beer, grapes, chocolate and nuts rounded out our picnic fare. Nothing overly gourmet.  The park was peaceful and we experienced a rather lovely (in retrospect) sun shower. We forgot the balls and other park-type activities, but we brought the dog. A nice evening nonetheless.

On Wednesday, we had a playdate after camp and went to the mall food court for lunch. In the afternoon, we tried the new water slide out in the backyard (fun!) and then Ben got to go and see the new Airbender movie with his friend. In the evening, I got out for a nice bike ride and discovered Terwillegar Park – a Garden of Eden type of oasis in the river valley.

Inspired by the discovery the night before, the twins and I took a walk down the steep embankment to the river’s edge on Thursday afternoon. It was hot and a bit buggy, but they were troopers. However, arriving at the bottom of the path, we were surprised and disappointed. You can read about it here.

Ella got her new glasses this week and she looks fabulous. They have little nose pads for better positioning on her little nose and the lenses transition to a darker shade for UV protection. And they’re pink. She loves them!

So, in the end, we had a pretty good week. We are looking forward to camp at the Foote Theatre School next week (especially me, because they are full days and I have a lot of work to get done). The, we head to Toronto for two weeks of sweltering heat and humidity – oh yeah, and visiting with lots of friends and family.

Shabbat Shalom. And may your next week be a good one – full of gladness and joy.