For years I’ve been telling my husband that I want to retire from my government job as soon as possible, so I can fulfill my life-long ambition to work as a freelance Bobcat driver. Scooping, twirling, dumping . . . a veritable ballet of steel and rubber . . . does it get any better than that?
Pierre understands the affinity I feel with Bobcat drivers. A sunny Saturday morning a few years back, we were standing in the doorway of our garage during a lull in one of our once-a-decade garage sales. A Bobcat trundled down the street, its engine emitting a jaunty rumble. As the machine drew even with us, I waved at the driver. He waved back. Pierre nodded. “One of your people,” he said.
So when Pierre arrived home this afternoon when I was elbow-deep in compost (it’s planting time in Yellowknife) and instructed me to be ready to go somewhere in 20 minutes, I was perplexed. I filled a couple more buckets with compost, washed the grime from my arms and legs, and changed my clothes. We drove to a vacant lot, where Pierre unveiled my surprise 50th birthday present – a borrowed Bobcat (a little the worse for wear) and a big pile of dirt, just begging to be moved. As I approached, another sight gave me pause – our friend, award-winning cinematographer Alan Booth, lurking in the bushes with one of his high-end cameras. Good lord.
Yet the Bobcat beckoned. I climbed in, and Pierre gave me instructions on how to fire it up and operate it. I spent the next half hour gleefully scooping, twirling, dumping – all of it captured on video. Boy, was I ever glad I changed out of the shapeless T-shirt and lumpy shorts Pierre told me were just fine.
The video will be expertly edited in time for my birthday party, which had to be bumped a couple of weeks because of the NorthWords Writers Festival. The video will show that I am a Bobcat natural - that I am to-the-Bobcat-born, as it were. Except that I kept mixing up the controls for going backward and forward. And raising and lowering the scoop. And the whole thing was pretty jerky. But other than that, I did really, really well.
First thing Monday, I’ll be looking into the possibility of early retirement.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
Join me at NorthWords!
I'm be making two on-stage appearances at NorthWords.
On Thursday, June 2, I'll be reading a brand-new piece of flash fiction at the Flash: Your 3 Minutes of Fame open mike, 8 to 10 p.m. in the atrium of the Greenstone Building.
On Saturday, June 4, I'll be participating in the Renewal through Laughter: Writing Humour panel discussion, along with Kathy Reichs, Susan Juby, Ted Staunton, Annelies Pool and Richard Van Camp.
On June 4, I'll also be on hand for the Signings with Sizzle book signing and barbecue at the Book Cellar, noon to 1:30 p.m.
And, because I'm on the NorthWords Board of Directors, in between events I will be putting up display banners, wrangling baking, and whatever else need to be done.
See you there!
On Thursday, June 2, I'll be reading a brand-new piece of flash fiction at the Flash: Your 3 Minutes of Fame open mike, 8 to 10 p.m. in the atrium of the Greenstone Building.
On Saturday, June 4, I'll be participating in the Renewal through Laughter: Writing Humour panel discussion, along with Kathy Reichs, Susan Juby, Ted Staunton, Annelies Pool and Richard Van Camp.
On June 4, I'll also be on hand for the Signings with Sizzle book signing and barbecue at the Book Cellar, noon to 1:30 p.m.
And, because I'm on the NorthWords Board of Directors, in between events I will be putting up display banners, wrangling baking, and whatever else need to be done.
See you there!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Honouring military spouses
This past Friday evening I had the pleasure of being the guest speaker at a formal dinner to honour military spouses in Yellowknife.
Given the audience, I decided to read “Grey Day, Grey Trout,” a personal essay about the first time I went fishing with Pierre in the East Arm of Great Slave Lake. I don’t want to give away the storyline, but let’s just say that the whole fishing experience was frustrating in the extreme, what with the way the lake trout kept pestering me and interrupting my reading. Pépé and our friend Louis were very generous with their advice throughout the day. They had plenty of opportunity to “coach” me, since there were no fish distracting them by biting their lures. But I digress.
I’d never been to a formal military dinner, much less been the “honoured guest,” which seems to have a specific meaning in the military world. (I thought they were just being polite when they called me that.) I sat at the head table with the Commanding Officer, Brigadier-General Guy Hamel, and his wife Nicola. While the first course was being served, I sat politely waiting for someone important to start eating so I could break into my beef consommé en croûte. Turns out I was the “important” person everyone was waiting for. Go figure.
It was a wonderful experience for me and Pierre. The folks at Joint Task Force North were a fabulous audience, laughing at all the right spots while I was reading. During the breaks they were friendly and welcoming. I was happy to participate in the event, which acknowledged the important contributions of spouses to military life. Many thanks to Major Steve Wright, President of the Mess Committee, for inviting me to speak, and to General Hamel and Nicola Hamel for a great evening.
Given the audience, I decided to read “Grey Day, Grey Trout,” a personal essay about the first time I went fishing with Pierre in the East Arm of Great Slave Lake. I don’t want to give away the storyline, but let’s just say that the whole fishing experience was frustrating in the extreme, what with the way the lake trout kept pestering me and interrupting my reading. Pépé and our friend Louis were very generous with their advice throughout the day. They had plenty of opportunity to “coach” me, since there were no fish distracting them by biting their lures. But I digress.
I’d never been to a formal military dinner, much less been the “honoured guest,” which seems to have a specific meaning in the military world. (I thought they were just being polite when they called me that.) I sat at the head table with the Commanding Officer, Brigadier-General Guy Hamel, and his wife Nicola. While the first course was being served, I sat politely waiting for someone important to start eating so I could break into my beef consommé en croûte. Turns out I was the “important” person everyone was waiting for. Go figure.
It was a wonderful experience for me and Pierre. The folks at Joint Task Force North were a fabulous audience, laughing at all the right spots while I was reading. During the breaks they were friendly and welcoming. I was happy to participate in the event, which acknowledged the important contributions of spouses to military life. Many thanks to Major Steve Wright, President of the Mess Committee, for inviting me to speak, and to General Hamel and Nicola Hamel for a great evening.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
NorthWords immanent
We're in the home stretch, heading towards the 6th annual NorthWords Writers Festival, June 2 to 5, here in Yellowknife.
This year's theme is "From Ripples to Waves: Renewing our Spirits through Stories." Twenty-eight authors and special guests will include Kathy Reichs, Susan Juby, Gregory Scofield, Charlotte Gray, Ted Staunton, AmberLee Kolson and Roger Brunt. Northern authors include Jamie Bastedo, Myranda Bolstad, Bill Braden, Marianne Bromley, Albert Canadien, Dawn Curtis, Randy Freeman, Rene Fumoleau, David Malcolm, David Miller, Annelies Pool, Richard Van Camp . . . and me.
For more information, please see the festival website.
This year's theme is "From Ripples to Waves: Renewing our Spirits through Stories." Twenty-eight authors and special guests will include Kathy Reichs, Susan Juby, Gregory Scofield, Charlotte Gray, Ted Staunton, AmberLee Kolson and Roger Brunt. Northern authors include Jamie Bastedo, Myranda Bolstad, Bill Braden, Marianne Bromley, Albert Canadien, Dawn Curtis, Randy Freeman, Rene Fumoleau, David Malcolm, David Miller, Annelies Pool, Richard Van Camp . . . and me.
For more information, please see the festival website.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
I worry about the ptarmigan
Why did the ptarmigan cross the road?
To get away from Cathy, of course.
About this time of year we see a lot of ptarmigan in Yellowknife. They're cute little gaffers. Well, large gaffers as far as birds go, seeing as how they're part of the grouse family and chubby, to boot. In winter their feathers are white, so they look like good-sized snowballs as they wander around.
And it's the wandering around part that's the problem.
You see, ptarmigan can fly, if they choose to. They just don't seem inclined to most of the time. Couple that with a tendency towards mental laziness, and you have disaster in the making. I walk to work every day, and there's a stretch of willow along Franklin Avenue portion of the route. For the past week, there have been a bunch of ptarmies in these bushes, munching on buds. Alarmed at my approach, they leap out of the willows (where they're fairly safe) and plop down onto the path in front of me. They then scurry along in a panic, trying to out-run me. Given that I have long legs and am in pretty good shape, I'll let you guess how well that works.
Some of the smarter ones eventually head back into the bushes. But there's always one or two who run into the road, unaware that a vehicle making its way along Franklin in the semi-dark poses a far greater danger than I ever would. So far, the terrified birds take to the wing before they're run over. But I really don't need this stress first thing in the morning -- witnessing ptarmigan carnage is not a good start to the day.
A couple of times, as I wander home in the evening, I've seen evidence that not all ptarmigan make it across the road safely. Poor little bird-brains. I worry about them.
To get away from Cathy, of course.
About this time of year we see a lot of ptarmigan in Yellowknife. They're cute little gaffers. Well, large gaffers as far as birds go, seeing as how they're part of the grouse family and chubby, to boot. In winter their feathers are white, so they look like good-sized snowballs as they wander around.
And it's the wandering around part that's the problem.
You see, ptarmigan can fly, if they choose to. They just don't seem inclined to most of the time. Couple that with a tendency towards mental laziness, and you have disaster in the making. I walk to work every day, and there's a stretch of willow along Franklin Avenue portion of the route. For the past week, there have been a bunch of ptarmies in these bushes, munching on buds. Alarmed at my approach, they leap out of the willows (where they're fairly safe) and plop down onto the path in front of me. They then scurry along in a panic, trying to out-run me. Given that I have long legs and am in pretty good shape, I'll let you guess how well that works.
Some of the smarter ones eventually head back into the bushes. But there's always one or two who run into the road, unaware that a vehicle making its way along Franklin in the semi-dark poses a far greater danger than I ever would. So far, the terrified birds take to the wing before they're run over. But I really don't need this stress first thing in the morning -- witnessing ptarmigan carnage is not a good start to the day.
A couple of times, as I wander home in the evening, I've seen evidence that not all ptarmigan make it across the road safely. Poor little bird-brains. I worry about them.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Calling all writers! Contest open for entries
The fifth annual Great Northern Canada Writing Contest opened January 1, 2011. To enter you need to write a 1,000 word story (fiction or non-fiction) about life in the Northwest Territories, Yukon, Nunavut, Nunavik or Labrador. Winners receive cash prizes and publication in above&beyond, Canada’s Arctic Journal. Please see the contest page on the NorthWords Writers Festival website for details.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Old Yellowknife Christmas tradition
I was going through some old photos and came across this one. I took it in 1986, the first year I lived in Yellowknife.
To get everyone into the holiday spirit, the City used to set up a Christmas tree smack dab in the middle of 50th Avenue and 50th Street - the main intersection in downtown Yellowknife. They hadn't covered this contingency when I took driver training in Saskatchewan, so I was never sure if one makes a left turn by cutting in front of the tree, or swinging wide around it. If you look closely at the photo, you'll see that there are no traffic lights, so whatever we did, we had to use the honour system that goes with an unmarked (and usually treeless) intersection.
I forget when they stopped putting up the tree. That tradition probably ended by the close of the '80s, about the same time they put up traffic lights in the downtown. I sometimes pine for the old tree, but given that Yellowknife is almost twice as big as it was in 1986, and drivers aren't nearly as patient as they used to be, it's unlikely to be resurrected.
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