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This evening I welcomed the sabbath bride while Lola and I walked up High Park avenue. The light was just so, the street smelled like recently awoken soil and trees budding, the moon was a bright hanging sickle.

We walked slowly, listening to the ambient noise of the neighbourhood winding down, and it came to my mind that the day of rest was beginning, and it was my job in that moment to welcome this turn of events and give thanks.

It's late so I won't say much.

But I want to mention that one thing I love about Big Love is how close to the perfect the scripting is around issues of family dysfunction and healing.

In the latest episode, Nicki says point blank to her husband. "I get so angry about how we were raised sometimes. I wish I could be more like you." He says, "Well you can't hang on to the past, you just have to move on." To which she replies. " I don't think I can, there's something in me that's damaged."

Not to riddle this post with spoilers or anything, but the latest installment of Big Love is a doozy.

Bill Hendrickson, hot on the trail of a senate seat manages to completely screw his best friend Don Embry: Asking his staunchest ally to admit to polygamy, then health insurance fraud, and if that weren't enough, to then resign from the company he helped found. All to support Bill's bid for senate.

If that weren't enough, 5 seconds later Bill is giving his eldest son Ben the heave-ho and away you go. Why? For that ancient, extended family faux-pas' - making eyes at Marjean, the youngest of Bill's three wives, and it ought to be mentioned, Ben's erstwhile babysitter.

My head's just reeling at all the back-stabbing and treachery, reeling so much that I got to thinking about a similar alpha male TV bad-ass - the stylish but no less leonine or gynastically prolific, Don Draper.

What is it about capital M Men on TV these days. They are completely fucked up. Their self-awareness, emotional intelligence, respect for others, personal ethics. All seem prey to a boundless need to conquer.