The eyes of the world

There is little else being discussed here tonight but the start of the Vancouver Winter Olympics. Seven years in the preparation, with countless thousands of volunteers working tirelessly to prepare a Games in this, the southernmost host city in the history of the Winter Games.

We've heard the jokes about the lack of snow... but what was not lacking tonight was joy, creativity and pride. The Opening Ceremonies were a mixture of cultural stories, music and sparkling visuals, marred only slightly by the malfunction of the indoor cauldron right at the end.

Speaking of which... this Games featured the longest-ever Olympic Torch Relay, spanning 106 days and nearly 45,000 km, through some of the world's harshest winter conditions. Our country embraced these Olympics, and in particular this Torch Relay, with so fervent a spirit of national pride that most commentators were left speechless. It's never been done before, and will likely never be attempted again. But what a spectacular event it was.

What broke most people's hearts, however, was the news this afternoon, even before the official start of the Games, of the death of a Georgian slider. The horrific accident was looped on all our news segments, and cast a pall over what should have been a joyous afternoon and evening. A moment of silence was observed, and athletes were urged to compete in his memory, in a spirit of international brotherhood and sports(wo)manship. So tragic, and yet a reminder of the tremendous lows that form the shadow side of victory and sporting excellence.

With that sober thought in mind, here's to a wonderful and successful Olympic Games, Vancouver! This girl's totally on board, right down to the mittens.

Ugh

I've been felled by the late-winter equivalent of Chinese Water Torture - an insistent, long-lasting cold that I've managed to ignore for days. Today, it decided it would be ignored no longer. So I spent most of today curled up on the couch, blowing my raw red nose and feeling like I'd been run over by a snowblower and spit out the long chute onto my front lawn. In a word - yuck.

Since I didn't venture outside the bounds of the living room today, it became a bit of a challenge to figure out what to post as today's picture. At 11:15 pm, I figured I would just snap a pic of my constant companion today.

Not every day's an adventure, I guess.



PS Very, very excited about tomorrow's Olympic Opening Ceremonies from Vancouver. I'm hoping to spot my BFF among the 3,000-strong children performing in the choirs at the Richmond Olympic Oval (affectionately nicknamed the ROO) as part of the Opening Ceremonies. It helps that she's about the size of the average 5th grader... she's been prepping for this for well over a year, and tomorrow is the day it all goes down.

Go Vancouver - I'm cheering for you, as you reveal your beauty and attitude to the world!

The Write Life

Anyone with a modicum of sentience has realized by now that I'm a frustrated writer.

Check that - I'm often frustrated, and I'm a writer. And sometimes, yes, my worlds collide and I strain to express what's inside.

It's been a curse and a blessing since I was a kid. My classmates would bemoan the 2-page composition they needed to write for English class. I'd have trouble limiting myself to 5 pages, and often used a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a typewriter to bang out my ideas.

And this was in the fourth grade.

Although I make my living from business writing now, fiction is what truly nourishes my spirit and tugs at my heart. And so, in a fit of mad inspiration, in 2007 I signed up for National Novel Writing Month, which (as the name implies) is the insane attempt to write a 50,000-word manuscript in 30 heady, creative, and likely unhygienic days.

I won NaNoWriMo in 2007 with 5 days to go, completing my first novel, a thriller set in the 1980s in my hometown. In 2008, I went for something completely different: a magical realism story about a mythical painter who exists across multiple eras and countries, and whose work changes the lives of everyone who encounters it. I won that year too, hitting the magic 50K mark in a coffee shop at about 5 pm on the last day of NaNo month, after a marathon 36 hours without sleep in which I wrote nearly 30,000 words. If it wasn't for the last minute, I'd get nothing accomplished.

2008 is also when I met Pat and Mike, at a Write-In for NaNo participants. Pat is a gifted writer of fantasy, crime stories featuring a unique detective, and lately, a four-book trilogy (yes, I know what I just wrote) in the science/thriller genre. The woman is utterly possessed when writing; she won the Muskoka Literary Festival last year, outwriting her closest competitor by many thousands of words, and emerging from the 3-day event with the complete first draft of her scientific thriller.

Mike is quieter but no less fierce. He's into dark stories and historical fiction. I'll always think of him as The Professor because of his penchant for research - before, during, and after he writes his pieces. He's no less successful, having just sold his first short story for publication, and working on the second draft of his 2009 NaNo novel.

Together, the three of us hang out in coffee shops across the city on the occasional week night, summoned by someone's impromptu message on Facebook, and drawn together time and again by the prospect of laughs, ideas, coffee and conversation with fellow writers.

And so it was tonight that after my play rehearsal and without prior notice, Mike dropped in to pick me up and drive me over to yet another Second Cup location with Pat. Several fun, productive and laughter-filled hours ensued... along with, maybe, a pretty good short-story idea...

Signs of spring? Yuck!

So you know all those sentimental thought-kins about the loveliness of spring, robins bobbing about, the first tender shoots springing hesitantly from the lately-frozen ground, etc etc?

Well, fuhgeddaboudit.

Around here, the signs of spring are messy, disgusting, and best acknowledged with rubber gloves and a long-handled shovel.

Having a tall mountain of snow covering our lawns and sidewalks hides a multitude of sins in my part of the world. In this relatively snowless year, the sun still manages to do its warming work despite the frigid temperatures. That's why it's never truly a good idea to look at the puddles on the side of the road outside, and assume you won't be needing Hot Paws and a fleece scarf to run your errands on foot.

When the tall mountains do melt, as they did here, what's uncovered is often a veritable Lost and Found of old garbage, brownish-grey vegetation and discarded junk.

And yes, the gloves and mittens. Sad and alone, they point nowhere in particular, soggy and greyed, waiting patiently for their former owners to reclaim them and become useful again. A particularly local sight: a single mitten or glove, of any size and description, upright on a metal pole - waiting to go home again.

It ain't poetry - but it's truth. Sad mittens are a sure sign of spring, around here.

Redux

We headed back to the mall to return something today, and I caught my daughter doing one of the things she does best...

This photo was too busy in full colour, but I like how the B&W and soft focus bring the attention forward to her, and not to the food court and shoppers all around her...

A day of rest

Does anyone really rest on Sundays anymore?

My daughter and I headed to the mall this afternoon. I despise shopping on weekends; I'm not fond of crowds, parking is always at a premium and everything in the stores has been pawed through several times over. Still, when the kid has a hectic homework, social life and sports schedule, and needs (*something which I am not allowed to mention on this blog*), it's fairly difficult to come up with a time that's convenient to everyone.

So off we went to our local multi-story shopping emporium.

The area I live in is fairly recently built-up (starting in the early 1970s) but our mall has been renovated with an eye to both design and nostalgia. I especially love the Art-Deco style lighting throughout... it really stands out against the modern steel beams and glass ceiling. Today was another bright, frigid winter day - and the contrast was really startling.

We did find the unmentionables, and I got out of there with only three small bags and a slight dent to the credit card. A successful afternoon all around!