The trees are becoming more and more barren. The air has its first bites of cold. Our radiators are kicking on in the mornings. The combination of cold air and the whistle of my stovetop kettle feels nostalgic. I'm transported back to being 10 years old in my family's 1980's camp trailer with burnt orange curtains and wood paneled walls. I'm waking up to the smell of the propane stove as my dad heats up water for his coffee. It's early sunrise, and my dad and I are getting an early start to the day. We're there for the muzzle-loader deer hunt. Our trailer is parked among the quaking aspen trees, and the air is so cold, we wait for the stove to heat up the trailer before crawling out of our sleeping bags. – I'm thinking about redesigning my personal site. A lot of people stop by and tell me they like it, which is nice. But every so often I get the urge to reimagine it. I have a lot of ideas and fun in the process – in the words of Joni Mitchell, I came out to The Big Apple here to face the dream's malfunction I love the internet dearly, but I think it's dimmed my ability to dream. When we've cured boredom, there's little opportunity for the mind to wander. How many of my ideas are actually my own?