Check it out at www.mynewwaterfronthome.com. If you like what you see, please hit the Facebook link and become a fan on our page at MyNewWaterfrontHome.com.  Then alert your friends, who can alert their friends …

We have extended the Top 10 Best Beaches in Ontario poll, so if you haven’t voted yet, now is your chance!

I won’t have time to write on this blog for a while, so watch for any news on our Facebook page and check out our Did You Know stories at MyNewWaterfrontHome.com for your fix of facts, advice and musings.

Thanks to all who dropped by this blog in the past year.  It was fun!

If you’ve voted already, start thinking marinas.  Our next Best of Ontario poll will ask the question: Where is the Best Marina in Ontario?

Stay tuned for more on Ontario’s waterfront when MyNewWaterfrontHome.com launches on May 1.

Less than a month to go before the launch of my new website, MyNewWaterfrontHome.com, which I’ve been working on for the past several months.

The website is dedicated exclusively to Ontario’s waterfront – its places, its people and its new residential developments.

We introduce people yearning for that waterfront lifestyle to Ontario’s many wonderful waterfront communities (97 villages, towns and cities will be profiled on launch day!) to help them in their search for that perfect place to live and work, raise a family, retire, or for that dream second home.

Visitors will learn about exciting new residential developments that are transforming so many waterfronts from industrial wastelands to lively people places where beaches, marinas, outdoor cafés and miles of walking and biking trails are now part of the landscape.

We’ll also bring you exclusive news stories and features about everything waterfront — from what you need to know before you stray into U.S. waters on your boat, to how nature is being harnessed to power our little corner of the world.

And we’ll turn the website over to you for our participation forums, like our feature called Your Waterfront Story — we’ll invite you to write in and tell readers how you found your new waterfront community and what’s so great about living there (check out MyNewWaterfrontHome.com on May 1 for details). You can also join our monthly Top 10 On The Waterfront feature, where we discover the best of what makes Ontario’s waterfront so great.

Where’s the Best Beach in Ontario?

To celebrate spring, we’re launching our very first Top 10 On The Waterfront poll today.  You’ll find it on our Facebook page.  We invite you to participate by answering the question: Where is the best beach in Ontario?

Don’t forget to include the name of the beach, the community it’s in and the body of water it’s found on. If you have a great digital photo of your favourite beach, please send it along with your email. We’ll be running the best photo of the winning beach on our Top 10 results page beginning May 1.

Remember, only beaches in Ontario qualify.

For the record, MyNewWaterfrontHome.com thinks the best beach in Ontario is West Beach at Point Pelee National Park in Leamington, on Lake Erie. But we don’t have a vote, so it’s up to you to prove us wrong!

Vote now — we look forward to hearing from you!

I’m not ready to let the cat out of the bag yet, but expect an announcement in this spot in the next week or so.

Hint: Waterfront, waterfront, waterfront.

Stay tuned!

If I wasn’t a mere 5 feet, 3 inches, I could stand in a crowd at a concert and never have anyone blocking my view. I could reach right up and grab that perfect apple out of a tree, without having to make do with the leftovers thrown to the ground by Mother Nature. And in the grocery store, I wouldn’t have to ask tall strangers to get me that last can of chick peas that is just out of my reach in the middle of the highest shelf.

If I were taller, I could also operate my home more efficiently by saving a few steps. For example, I wouldn’t have to go fetch my stool every time I needed the cheese platter — the one that only fits in the cabinet above the fridge. I wouldn’t have to get the step ladder out to change a light bulb. And I wouldn’t have to pretend I didn’t see the cobwebs that seem to grow overnight on the very top corners of my cathedral windows.

There’s no denying that cathedral windows are beautiful, especially when they look out on a lake view like mine. But with cathedral windows come tall ceilings, which also necessitate the need for a fan to circulate all the air that escapes up to the heavens. Which leads us back to those cobwebs. And dust on the fan blades and window sills and spider webs in those can’t reach corners.

The fan I inherited when I bought the house is a bit shabby looking — a yellowed white with a few knicks here and there. But I’m living with it because I’m afraid to hear my electrician tell me he doesn’t do cathedral ceilings (just like the furnace repair gal said she didn’t do roofs) because he just didn’t have a ladder tall enough and had never mastered scaffolding.

But the dust and the cobwebs?  Well, that’s something I just can’t live with.

So here’s my solution: For the cobwebs in the top windows, and the dust that inevitably builds up on the ledge up there, I use my trusty Swiffer and my kitchen stool. For the dusty fan blades, I use the step ladder and the Swiffer, being careful not to lean back too far in my zeal to clean the next blade that I fall off my perch and land on my glass coffee table (another dust catcher, but that’s another story). For the corners of the cathedral ceilings, where the cobwebs and spiders love to hang out, I attach a Swiffer dry cloth onto the end of my telescopic window-cleaning gizmo (the one I had used to sweep spider nests off the outside of the house every morning until I discovered Spider Man Mitch and his magic potion). It’s not as effective at getting right into the corners as the straight-edged toggling Swiffer head, but it’s the only thing that can reach that high. It gets the job done.

Got a house with cathedral windows? If you’re preparing it for sale and think you’re done cleaning, don’t forget to look up — way up! — to make sure there are no cobwebs or dust bunnies hanging around. You don’t want to give buyers a reason to say, “I bet those ledges up there are really hard to clean!”

That’s exactly what I thought when I toured my house before I bought it. But then I looked out to the lake and that gorgeous view. All thoughts of scaffolding vanished instantly. It’s hard to explain. But gazing out those soaring windows at that big blue sky, I felt 12 feet tall that day. And I knew, this house fit me perfectly.

It still does. Even if I’m really only 5 feet, 3 inches and have to carry a foot stool and step ladder around with me.

I love winter best when the sun is shining brightly, the snow glittering like diamonds as far as the eye can see. And with my lake view, that’s far.

And so I was in a sunny frame of mind this morning, taking in nature in all her winter glory.

The smile on my lips faded somewhat after I took a sip of coffee. I must have blinked too fast, for when my eyes refocused, they sought not the beautiful winter panorama that spread out before me. No. They zoomed in for a closer look at my dirty — very dirty! — window.

I blame my mother for this. She can’t stand a dirty window, always out there cleaning and shining until the glass disappears, leaving nothing but a picture-perfect scene to invite in for a nice cup of tea. It used to drive me crazy as a young teenager, when I spent every Saturday cleaning the house with my mother. Just when we finally sat down at the dining room table to enjoy a glass of something cold while sharing an appreciative glance around at our handiwork, my mother would swear, hop out of her chair and run out to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towel.

“What are you doing?” I’d ask, knowing only too well that she must have spotted a small speck of dust on the big picture window at the front of the house. “I can’t stand a dirty window,” she’d spit out, angry that rain or dust or both had the nerve to spot an otherwise shiny window. Deep down, I understood her. But how could I sit and enjoy a guilt-free break when my mother was furiously scrubbing a window when she should be the one resting?

Now that my mother lives in a highrise building, keeping those windows clean is a fine balancing act. Take the large living room window, for instance. To clean it, my mother must lean over the side of the balcony and stretch as far as her arms will go, which is exactly three storeys above an asphalt parking lot. Not for the faint of heart! My mother will go far for a clean window, however, and takes on the dangerous task of window-washing on a regular schedule when the weather is nice.

But winter? Well, that’s a different story. Instead of Windex, she uses car windshield washer fluid, the kind designed for good, ol’ Canadian winter temperatures, to clean the windows she can safely reach from the balcony without resorting to a tightrope dance. I am relieved to hear that nearing 80, even she will no longer take the chance of falling off the balcony by leaning over to clean the big living room window. Instead, she will close the blind for a few hours on those sunny days when the rays are directly opposite her window.

“Shine, gaw-damned you,” she spits as she snaps the blind closed, shutting out the sun before it illuminates those annoying specks of winter grime and throws them like taunts right into her face.

I could do the same at my house, but just can’t close the curtains and blinds knowing that if my elderly mother were visiting, she would be out cleaning my windows in no time. That’s because all but two of the windows on my ranch-style cottage are within easy reach.

There is no excuse for dirty windows here, except laziness, which can be reversed, and freezing temperatures, which can be overcome. On bright sunny days like today, I can muster the energy to overcome anything, even -8 temperatures.

In order to protect myself from needless frostbite, I usually wait until temperatures are just around the freezing mark before I fill a bucket with very hot water and head outside with a sponge mop.

Try it yourself. If it’s above freezing, you can wipe down a three-pane window with the hot water all at once, then use regular glass cleaner to complete the job pane-by-pane. If it’s below freezing, it’s best to sponge on the hot water one pane at a time, then quickly squirt on windshield washer fluid and polish it up before ice forms. Then move on to the next pane.

It’s easy. But don’t forget to wear gloves. It’s cold out there!

Is it worth it? You bet! Now you can enjoy the warmth of sun pouring in your clean, shiny windows without the need to curse. Unless, of course, the glass is so clean you forget there’s a sliding door and smack into it head-first on your way outside to scoop up a handful of those sparkling diamonds in the snow.

My own battle of the bulge is made easier by keeping that special drawer free of snack clutter. No more trail mix, nuts or banana chips. Gone. Empty. No calorie-laden foods in this house!

It’s not that nuts can’t be healthy. It’s just when bad habits develop — like eating a bowlful every night while watching a bit of TV — that the calories and fat grams add up to trouble on the scales. Moderation is something that is often difficult to achieve.

My solution?

Clear the cupboards of anything that might tempt me to sit down and overindulge. That’s the reason there is no crunchy peanut butter at my house. You would think that since I have given up bread-eating on a regular basis, peanut butter would no longer be needed in my life. Leave it to me to discover that a couple of tablespoons of peanut butter in a small bowl, sprinkled with a few squirts of liquid honey, makes a great afternoon snack eaten right off the spoon! Again, not too unhealthy in small doses.  But every day until the jar is empty? There’s trouble!

If you have resolved to cut down on the junk food in your life, help yourself succeed by taking the time to declutter your kitchen. Get rid of anything that will lead into temptation. If it’s not there, you won’t eat it!

If you’re not sure if something is “junk,” take the time to read the label for calorie and fat content information. If something is fat-free but sugar, sucrose or corn syrup are the first ingredients listed, you know that eating the entire package will be bad news.

Clearing out the junk food is also a great opportunity to take stock of your pantry — a first step to eating more healthily. Didn’t know you had four cans of chick peas hiding in there? Maybe it’s time to make a nice healthy soup or vegetarian stew.

It’s good to know that decluttering is not only good for the soul, it can do wonders for your body. Let the food decluttering begin!

Masterson’s books and blog are filled with common-sense advice. But what I most enjoy are his essays, like the one I am sharing here from a recent Early To Rise (ETR) newsletter.

His take on life always gives pause for thought. And while he has plenty of his own ideas and bon mots, Masterson is not afraid to give credit to someone else who is on a similar path. If you’re like me, you’ll find plenty of inspiration in his essay below, titled The Simplicity Imperative. The topic is especially timely as we review the past year’s achievements and march into 2010 with new resolutions in hand.

Follow Masterson’s advice — and check out the book he endorses — and you’ll not only simplify your life, you will live richly without breaking the bank.

Happy New Year!

THE SIMPLICITY IMPERATIVE
By Michael Masterson
Much of what you read in ETR is directed at helping you earn more money and achieve financial independence. But what many people mistake for wealth is pure junk: the oversized plasma TV, the 2010 Ferrari, the custom-built estate home.

In fact, a big part of living rich is getting rid of most of that stuff. The truly rich don’t clutter their lives with overpriced baubles. They prefer to lead their lives with fewer, but more valuable, things. They spend their days doing what pleases them and shunning what doesn’t.

That’s what we all want, isn’t it? Yet how few of us succeed! Still, it’s perfectly possible for people on an ordinary income to live as the really rich (balance-sheet rich rather than income-statement rich) do.

We’ve talked about many practical strategies to do that in past issues of Early to Rise. You can make a great start by following what I call the “simplicity imperative.”

By that I mean getting rid of the junk experiences and possessions that crowd your life and give you stress and replacing them with quality experiences and possessions that bring you enduring pleasure.

Let me give you a few examples:

Trade in that oversized house you can’t afford. Move into something modest that you can gradually fix up and fill with furniture and art that mean something to you. Make it your own little paradise. Make it the kind of house that will make friends feel welcome and comfortable.

Instead of buying the hottest, most expensive new car on the market, buy a slightly used high-quality car that you can enjoy driving for 10 years or more.

Give away two-thirds of your clothes and wear only those that make you feel great. You know which ones they are already. Do it and see how quickly you feel richer.

And that is just the beginning. You can apply this simplification strategy to your work, and even your relationships. Simplifying your life is not an option if you want to live rich. It is an absolute necessity.

Having two beautifully tailored suits or dresses that fit you perfectly makes you feel infinitely classier than having two dozen that will look dated in a matter of months. Having one small home that is well-maintained and contains a treasure trove of little artifacts that say something good about you — your character, your values, your interests — is a hundred times more impressive than living in a 10,000-square-foot McMansion that somebody else decorated for you.

And when it comes to how you spend your time, clearing out the junk activities will make you richer, too. Turn off the TV, the computer and the video games and you’ll turn on your spirit to a world full of gratifying experiences.

Less in your life will give you more. More productivity. More passion. More meaning, love, friendship, serenity, etc.

This isn’t a new idea — but though most of us acknowledge that it’s true, we need to be reminded of it from time to time. I’ve been recently reminded of it by a wonderful new book written by Alex Green. In The Secret of Shelter Island, Alex explains how you can employ the simplicity imperative to start living a truly rich life.

“I’m not a moon-eyed idealist who believes that money does not matter,” Alex says. “It does. But an individual who is driven by his lust for ‘more’ is hardly different than the donkey who is propelled onward by a carrot dangling at the end of a stick.”

Drawing on some of today’s best minds and many of history’s greatest thinkers, The Secret of Shelter Island is both a much-needed source of inspiration and an illuminating look at the pursuit of the good life.? The book is organized around four central themes …

In Part I, “A Rich Mind,” Alex takes a look at the main “disease” affecting Americans — affluenza. He explores the importance of money in your life — including what it gives you and what it costs you. He discusses the difference between getting rich and being rich. And he addresses the true meaning of success.

In Part II, “What Matters Most,” he explains how to calculate your real net worth — without using a financial statement. He helps you recognize the most valuable thing you own. And he reveals how to live a better, more relaxed life.

In Part III, “Attitudes and Gratitude,” Alex offers powerful insights based on a deceptively simple philosophy of life. He delves into the importance of gratitude, the destructiveness of greed and envy, and the transformative power of adversity.

In the final section of the book — “The Search for Meaning” — he delivers a refreshing take on the universal principles that guide us all — or should.

The Secret of Shelter Island is full of practical wisdom and thought-provoking commentary on what it means to be truly wealthy. ?In difficult financial times, we are prompted to re-examine what really matters in our lives — a process that can open up amazing opportunities. The Secret of Shelter Island provides fresh perspectives, compelling ideas and a profound understanding of how to lead a richer life. And the writing is shockingly good.

Saw the news the other day: that was some winter storm in the Eastern United States! Reminded me of my years living in Ottawa, Canada’s national capital, where there is still snow in the backyard come April.

Thankfully, I’m in Leamington now, in beautiful Essex County in southwestern Ontario, so shovelling shouldn’t require too much of my time. But while winters here are definitely milder, I’m not crazy enough to believe that life in the Tomato Capital of Canada does not require snow boots and a shovel or two.

After living in a condo for two winters, this will be my first year back shovelling.  That’s what comes with owning a house with a driveway again. You might think I’m mad, and maybe I am, but I’m secretly pining for a real Ottawa winter. Snow by the foot? I say bring it on!

Shovelling makes me happy. That’s probably because I see shovelling as an art form. It’s a thing of beauty. And beauty can do wonders to lift your spirits high. You know that good feeling you get when you give the house a good cleaning and declutter? Shovelling can do that for you.

Turning snow-shovelling into an art is easy when you follow my secret family method. Before you know it, you’ll be creating a true thing of beauty right in your own driveway! And feeling great!

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Like any art, there are a few simple rules that must be followed if you are to know success — measured in the number of dog-walkers and motorists who slow down to nod in appreciation as you stand in your driveway, your face flushed with pride, surveying your handiwork.

The rules that I share here are the result of seeing one too many pathetically shovelled driveways. One driveway was so bad there was barely room to squeeze a car in between snowbanks! Talk about clutter. But I don’t blame the homeowner. It’s not his fault that no one taught him what apparently only members of my immediate family know: cutting corners is the secret to the best-looking hand-shovelled driveway in town.

So our secret is out.  But before you put it into practice, here’s what you should know:

Turning shovelling into an art form begins with the realization that the power to shape snowbanks is in your hands — not Mother Nature’s.

This leads to Rule #1: create your snowbanks as soon as the first snow falls. For example, if you have a double driveway, don’t just shovel the asphalt. Think big. Think wide. Think mountains and valleys. That four-inch snowfall may not seem like much at first, but come March, when the snowbanks are eight feet tall and hard as ice, you don’t want to feel as if your driveway is closing in on you.

So, with the first snowfall, get out there and clear the driveway, plus at least two feet of lawn on each side. That’s Rule #2. Then, stand on the roadway behind the left snowbank and advance about three feet. Stick your shovel into the snowbank and draw a line at a 45-degree angle. Remove all the snow outside the cut mark.

Repeat on right side of driveway.

Cutting halfway up the lawn (Rule #3) may seem like a lot of work, but it’s worth it. You’ll now have room to put the garbage out for pickup; have plenty of space to drive in and out without those tricky tight turns; and, most important, you’ll be able to see what’s coming when you back out of the driveway.

Now, just one more step to go.

Since traditions evolve, I have taken it upon myself to add one new step (Rule #4) to the corner-cutting driveway-clearing method of art creation. This involves removing all the heavy snow beyond the bottom of your driveway.

OK, yes, I mean shovel the street. But only your half. And only the width of your new super-wide driveway. And don’t forget to toss the snow up and over your new corner snowbanks.

The reason for this final step is simple: If you’ve cleared the street, there is nothing left for the snowplow to throw back into your driveway. Shovel once and you’re through.

My husband once accused me of making up this corner-cutting thing, but my siblings set him straight. “Of course you have to cut corners,” they exclaimed.

He claims we’re all crazy — and maybe we are. But there’s no denying we always have the best-looking driveways in town. And big smiles on our faces.

There’s nothing like the feeling you get from a job well done.

Before I downsized to a condo in Cobourg (that’s before I upsized to a rancher on the lake in Leamington), our house in Ottawa was filled with books — mine, mostly novels, and my husband’s, a potpourri of novels, history, politics, geography, travel (how many books on Ireland does one person need?) and gardening (I won’t even mention the old novels he had read as a child and carried with him all these years).

When we sold off our furniture and other things so we could squeeze just what we needed into a 1,165-square-foot space, books were among our prized possessions to go. But we weren’t ruthless. We decided to keep our Canadian novel collection, plus some travel books and a few other personal treasures. It wasn’t easy parting with any of our books, but it did make living in the condo a whole lot more breathable.

Now that we have upsized to about 1,800 square feet of space, I see books slowly creeping back into the house (the Terry Fox Used Book Sale was hard to resist and Alice Munro won’t stop writing!). They are piling up in drawers and desks. And at least half of them are Canadian, which means they will have to be squeezed onto our already full bookshelves. I am starting to feel claustrophobic.

A new friend, Carlinda D’Alimonte, a teacher by trade, is a writer of poetry. She’s been published — twice — and graciously brought her newest book as a gift when at the house recently for Sunday brunch. It is a slim book, so I will forgive her — it fits nicely on my bedside table. Titled Other Living Things, the book  “deals with the hard process of undoing the hurt of childhood and adolescence.” Sounds a little like decluttering: learning to let go of the past to live happily in the present.

I picked up Carlinda’s book and smiled out loud when I read her opening poem, titled Dross:

Discarded scraps, gossamer gowns, unread books,
cassette tapes, garish picture frames clutter basements.
Boxes of surplus for another day, piled in corners
of musty closets, drawers stuffed with frayed threads,
coloured in dyes that add years to our complexions,
cloying scents of dusty perfume bottles,
oily cosmetics, filmy pill boxes
behind dinsinfected cabinet doors —

dust, dust everywhere

and everywhere, the stench of things
our hands will not discard, spectres that stare
from every corner of the house, find us dreaming
in the night,

wake us, wake us with a start.

Beautiful! And food for thought while you ponder that overstuffed basement.

I am happy to report that Carlinda has started her own blog. Happy reading!