What an End to a Season!

I know I've been Cancer Girl — and her subset personality, Survivor Team Dragon Boat Paddler Girl — of late. I won't apologize for someone I am proud to be, but I will promise to get back to Creative Writing Girl now.

No. It's not because the paddling season is over. Why do you ask?

But since you did ask: What an end to our season! A fabulous weekend paddling at the Penticton Dragon Boat Festival. The weather was quite cooperative, and the water was helpfully calm (which I'm told is unusual for Penticton).

Our hotel was right on Lake Okanagan and the sunrises looked like our race jerseys. It was like a four day vacation... I just had to paddle two to three 500 metre races a day in exchange!

For my troubles, I came home with a Third Place medal (for the survivors' race), a Second Place ribbon (for placement in our division), and a beautifully painted tile (from groomeart.com) as souvenirs.

A good, good season.

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A Picture Puzzler

A friend sent me another picture from the wrap party. As I looked at it, and recalled the good times, I was struck by something really unusual. See if you can spot it: I'll give you all some time to guess...

Batten down the hatches -- we're in it for the long haul!

Given that the weather reports for Edmonton this weekend are grim grim grim (lows of minus 33, highs of minus 25 -- with wind chills of around minus 35 to 40), I woke up early this morning to get all errands for the weekend out of the way in one fell swoop. I barely needed a coat this morning as I headed out to my car to embark on my mission. With each passing hour, the thermometer dipped a degree or twelve. By time I was done driving around (and paused to catch a movie at the neighbourhood googolplex), it was chill-lay outside. I am now snuggly boarded up in my apartment, with no plans to so much as peek my nose out my window until Tuesday (when the temps shall return to a balmy minus 15). Groceries? Check. Toiletries? Check. Magazines to curl up with? Check. Christmas Presents? Check. Lessee, I got my father what he's been asking for since I was old enough for him to give me his Christmas wish list: And I think my mother will enjoy her bungalow by the stream: For my sister and he...

"I used to think maybe you love me, now baby I'm sure"

I just got my first reference letter to submit with my admission package to film school this fall. And I quote: "I found her grasp of the craft of writing to be first-rate and she has an original voice, a rarity among writers." I'm a rarity. Which is similar, perhaps, to being "special" -- which, yes, people say of me only in association with making quotation marks with their fingers. We all gotta be something.

A Skewed View

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