Michael, Kerry and Dora

I started typing this blog post with the idea that it would be titled 'Thirty Days Hath September' because it reminded me of the promise I made to myself (weeks ago) that I would post at least once this month. Talk about getting in under the wire...

The three names in the post title seemed to be more topical to the last couple of weeks.

I have been on 'vacation' the past week. Partly because my sister, Kerry, was visiting from Edmonton and partly because it was my 50th birthday during the week (and Kerry flew in to help talk me off the ledge). She had a lovely visit with our parents up the shore and then she spent a few days here in town to catch up on current events with us and with old friends. Kerry enjoyed kayaking in Cape Broyle, hiking at Cape Spear and generally browsing the downtown shops.

It was on one of these walks that she stumbled upon the legendary Dora, who had obviously hit upon hard times (see photo below).

Dora is down on the mean streets of St. John's

Dora had dried leaves stuck in her hair, was clad only in a pink bikini, and was lying on the steps of what had once been a popular strip joint (or so I am told) on the east end of Duckworth Street.

Almost forgot...her feet had been chewed off as well...

The scene of the crime

Kerry documented the sad scene with a photo (no doubt to sell to the scandal mags) and we went on our way, trying to forget that this young tart woman had once been a legendary explorer who had won the hearts of young girls (and 10% of the boys) around the world. Two days later we again passed by the building and found that Dora had crawled down the side alley (left) of the same boarded up building. My sister, used to seeing other sad souls on the mean streets of Edmonton, was moved nearly to tears and felt that Dora needed a helping hand (and prosthetic feet also).

Dora became our travelling companion for the rest of the day. I tried several times to engage the young woman in conversation but sadly my Spanish is lacking. The only understandable thing she muttered was, "Ola Senor...you buy me rum, si?"  My sister insisted I pose with Dora to prove to my blogger friends that I had met a bona fide celebrity (below).

Am a bit embarrassed here because as I reached for Dora's arm I accidentally grabbed her left breast (not the reason I am smiling)

Kerry tried fruitfully to take several photos of Dora with scenes of the city in background. The young star had obviously 'gone Hollywood' and was very difficult to work with. The only usable photo (all the others had her showing 'too much skin' or flipping us the bird) I will display below.

Dora, with Cabot Tower in the background, did the splits (we had her readjust her bikini bottom in an attempt at modesty)

Kerry soon tired of the scene and was quickly over Dora. She posed for a photo with her new friend Schooner the Newfoundland dog on Signal Hill (below).



Kerry, her new BFF Schooner and the vast Atlantic beyond

 Also on the agenda this week was when V and myself got together with writing buddy Laurita Miller and met up with cyber-friend Michael Solender and his wife 'sweetie' in a downtown coffee shop. They had travelled from North Carolina to spend two weeks here at various locations on 'The Rock' and seemed to have had a lovely time. I think that it's great to finally meet writing buddies in person but sadly the opportunities are so few and far between (yeah, I know...tres cliche).

Michael Solender, Alan Davidson and Laurita Miller strike a pose for the paparazzi

Thanks all for dropping by...I shall post again...at an undisclosed time, on an undisclosed date.

Links and Photos

Not a lot to report about this weekend. I've finished my 101 word story for Michael J. Solender's Dog Days of Summer Contest. There's still plenty of time to enter, folks, so you can link to the contest rules here. It's open to all followers of The Not. I'm not ready to hit the 'send' button just yet. Big bragging rights are at stake here, so I'll want a second and third opinion. My mother says that it's amazing but hey, what the heck does she know!

One of the blogs I regularly follow is Spec fic and Nonsense by dark fiction writer KV Taylor. She is a big fan of vampires and her post on Friday had me laughing my ass off. It's a commentary on classic vampire films Nosferatu in 1922, Dracula in 1931, and Brides of Dracula in 1960. Rumour has it that it's the first of who knows how many. The catch to this is that the commentary is between two of the 'undead' from a current WIP of hers (perhaps she can clarify that point if I'm telling lies). Follow this link to some humorous dialogue.

Finally I present a couple of night time photos we took from the top of historic Signal Hill last week. One is looking down into the harbour and the city lights beyond. The other is a shot of Cabot Tower lit up. The third is courtesy of The Weather Network and is of a rainbow spanning the Narrows into the harbour. That was taken by Regina Downtown. The night photos don't appear as large as I had hoped. C'est dommage!

Referral and Remembrance

I would like to link you in the direction of Michael J. Solender's blog Not From Here, Are You? There you will find my mild rant humourous/serious essay entitled 'Canada and America: The Great Divide'. Also at the NOT you will find Cathy Olliffe's fanciful tale 'The Power and the Glory'. The photo of her in her Canada-esque spring attire is very nice too...please check out the stories, an 'All Canadian Week' duet you won't want to miss.

On a more serious tone...I've never dedicated anything to anyone before, but I'd like to dedicate the Canada/America essay to an old co-worker back in Ontario. I received word yesterday afternoon that he had passed away 2 weeks ago. RW and I had worked together for about 14 years until he was forced to retire due to health reasons. That story seems appropriate as his mother's family were Quakers who moved to the Kitchener area from Pennsylvania in the 1800's. His father's side were English royalists and he was a proud Canadian who lived life on his own terms, even to the detriment of his health. RW had no family: his parents were long dead, his brother, who did not have children, had passed away last year. He had never married or had children either and died alone. I felt compelled to mention him today. He won't be forgotten.

Double Pimpage

First order of business...Happy Mother's Day to all of you ladies who fit into the category. I hope the day meets your vision of perfection.

Secondly...my flash story Thor's Hammer is up today at 52 Stitches. Umm...yes, it's a horror story and sadly no mother's appear in the story (perhaps that's a good thing). If it's any consolation, one is mentioned. Please check it out at some point this week.

Thirdly...Over at Not From Here, Are You? Michael J. Solender is kicking off his Canadian week starting tomorrow and running through Thursday. Carolyn 'Breeze' Parsons, follower of this blog will be appearing tomorrow and I will be sharing the stage on Wednesday with the talented Cathy Olliffe. My contribution to Canada week is a short essay Canada and America: The Great Divide about the relationship between us and our neighbours (yes, I spelled it correctly) to the south. He, he, he...and I apologise to my fine American friends in advance...

Finally, a link to a cool video on YouTube that was sent to me this week. The 10.4 million views indicates that it went viral, but just incase you missed it it's throws out a lot of facts and figures about the explosion of Infromation Technology in the past few years. Compelling stuff.

Again, Mother's Day greetings to you motherly types and I hope you get all of the...[select one]

• doughnuts


• bacon and eggs


• flowers and chocolates


• embroidered pillows


• peace and quiet

...that you deserve!

The WIP is Slain, Eh?

It was a balmy 16 degrees C (62 degrees F for those of you who won't convert) on the Rock today. A mere 2 degrees away from my change in wardrobe from parka and snow pants to muscle shirts, Speedos and thongs (that would be the floppy shoe). It seemed very nice, viewing the outdoors from my fishbowl. At least the dog seemed to enjoy it. Please refer to attached photo demonstrating his unbridled glee. Or perhaps it was just gas.

After the mandatory 8.5 hours of work, I switched from my drafting pajamas to my velvet robe and fez I wear during my writing hell bliss. I went through the second draft of my first-person story bitter rant stunning essay entitled Canada and America: The Great Divide. It is done. Fin. Laid to rest.

This is my entry to Michael J. Solender for his upcoming 'All-Canadian' week at his blog Not From Here, Are You? Even as we speak, it is deftly navigating the vacuum of cyberspace much as Sidney Crosby has navigated the ice surface of Mellon Arena in Pittsburgh.

View From the Fishbowl

Those of you who follow my blog are have probably noticed my whining about the crap weather we've had recently. Rain, fog, foggy rain, drizzly fog. One morning last week I looked out the kitchen window, past the back garden, to the building where my wife works. On a couple of the windows are taped bright yellow paper. When quizzed about this, V explained that a couple of the more humerous girls in the office were tired of the dim weather and taped large suns on the windows to cheer up the office. Now there is proactive thinking. I like that.

Today they can rip down the paper...the clouds are few and far between and the sun is high in the sky, bathing all in a hint of the warmth that will arrive with summer. Sadly, I am trapped in the home office, or fishbowl as I have come to call it recently, watching the people walking by, basking in the sun. Did I say that...actually I'm working diligently, nose to grindstone, contributing to urban blight.

I finished a draft yesterday of my story for Michael J. Solender's 'all-Canadian' week. I have decided, though, to set it aside and do something else. Why? Two reasons...

1. It's way too long. At 1900 words it hardly qualifies as flash fiction and I doubt that I could slash 900 words from it and keep the story intact. It was really an experiment to try out some new characters and a story-line for a much longer project. A fun exercise.


2. It's not Canadian enough. I went back to his blog and re-read the guidelines and decided that it didn't have the distinctive Canadian content he described. This morning I was furiously jotting down notes for an essay idea that came to me. You heard correctly. Essay. I haven't written anything like that since university (and probably for good reason). If all goes well I shall finish it and contribute it to the MJS spectacular. If it sucks is a failure I shall drop it in the shredder that sits six feet away from me and hang me head in shame.

Are You Canadian?

In a continuation of the moose talk from the previous post...

I have come to enjoy my visits to Not From Here, Are You? the blog of Michael J. Solender of Charlotte, North Carolina. He combines a refreshing mix of humour and personal insight into his poetry and short stories and often turns the reigns over to guest writers. His blog is affectionately known as 'The Not' to those that loaf about there.

Michael has announced this morning that he will be hosting an upcoming "Canada Week" and is seeking submissions from those of us of the "Northern Persuasion" for his Canada week-long literary fest and Moose hunt. Click the link above to head over to his blog for all the gory details.

I am shocked and surprised that he dares to expose himself and our other American cousins to the unique Canadiana style of writing (as influenced by the endless hours of hockey on the television and F*%$ing long and snowy winters). All Canadians, visit Michael J. Solender and his legion of followers at his blog and strut your Canadian stuff regardless if you are from the sunny, tulip-filled gardens of Victoria or the hilly, foggy streets of St. John's.

Note that the submissions are only open to those of us fortunate enough to be Canadian (did that sound like gloating? I'm sorry, I must apologize...) but please pass the message on to all Canadian writers that may lurk at your blog.

How will our cousins recognize us, you ask? The Canadians will be the ones dashing across the street, ignoring heavy traffic, to have coffee and doughnuts at Tim Hortons. We are ignoring the traffic because we know that we will be covered for health care when shmucked by a bus, regardless of where we live or how much we make (that being said, we are indeed paying much more in taxes and therefore drink our coffee at Timmys because we can not afford to drink at Starbucks).