• Vengeance
  • Wormhole
  • Asteroid - Blue
  • Asteroid - Green/Yellow
  • Plasma Planet
  • Asteroid - Purple
  • Intaki VI and Asteroids
  • Intaki Prime
  • Oceania
  • Ringed Planet
  • Golden Pod
  • SakBat
  • Classic Sakaane Eionell
  • Sakaane Eionell
  • Warp Tunnel Distortion
  • Asteroid City
  • Peyote Lake
  • Bighorns
  • Grizzly
  • White Anemone
  • Bleeding Heart
  • Purple Anemone
  • Bryce Canyon
  • Waterton
  • Foothills
  • Iceland
  • Red Sunset
  • White Tiger
  • Red Panda
  • Lightbeams
  • Orange Fungi
  • Grapes
  • Daenan
  • Arlayn
  • Stream
  • Berwen

Tag: life stuff

On the Go

As I start writing this entry I’m sitting on my balcony, rocking gently on my deck swing. It’s mid-morning on a Sunday and it will be a beautiful spring day, even though for the moment I have a blanket wrapped around me because the sun hasn’t quite come around the building far enough to warm up my deck. My neighborhood is quiet; other than a distant lawn mower and few cars going by there’s nothing to listen to except for chickadees, swallows, red wing blackbirds, and some other songbirds I don’t know the names of. It’s a clear day and I can see the Rockies stretching away to the south all the way to the Chain Lakes and then some. They still have quite a lot of snow on them. There’s a May tree growing off to the side just below my balcony that in a few years will be almost tall enough to touch. I like May trees; like lilacs and crab apples, the gentle fragrance of the flowers is one of the best parts of spring in Calgary.

This year I’ve taken to sitting on my balcony quite a lot on weekends when the weather is good (and even when it’s tolerably miserable). Life has been busy…maybe a little too busy…and these moments offer some peace and quiet that I feel I desperately need.


Camping Trips of Doom

Camping at a secret freebie place!

Camping is something my parents introduced me to when I was a child. We had a pickup truck with a slide-on camper (Mom and tents are NOPE), and during my school breaks we’d go to places like Two Jack, Waterton, Elkwater, or to secret places along the Old Man River and elsewhere. I’d go fishing with Dad, or hunt for pretty rocks (I should have been a geologist), and otherwise romp around in the wilderness. When we weren’t camping, I would sometimes sleep overnight in the camper while it was parked in the driveway, and later on when I started using a tent, I’d occasionally pitch that in the backyard and sleep there, because camping out is fun no matter where you do it. These days, I still go camping now and then, though not as often as I might like.

I have a lot of fond and amusing memories of past trips, like how it always seemed that the radio station out of Pincher Creek would play Wheel in the Sky, without exception, every time we turned along that last long stretch before arriving in Waterton. Or the time we camped on Crown land but I was too tired to get up to go fishing so Dad went without me, and I woke up later to find the camper surrounded by cows—I was maybe seven years old and freaked because a cow was blocking the door—so I blasted the radio and when I looked again, it was like the cows had evaporated. Totally gone, couldn’t find them anywhere. Didn’t imagine it though… Dad and I had to muck out the campsite when he came back, and we had a good laugh when I said the cows had been looking in the windows. Then there was the time I woke up in the back of the hatchback to find a horse’s butt resting against the window a few inches from my face, because apparently cars are great resting places for weary trail pony bums. (Couldn’t get out that time either.)

Not all trips have gone according to plan though.


The Slow Writer

Source: facebook.com/fromthewriteangle

When I was in school (roughly twenty years ago now, yikes), I was always carrying around a notebook and generally scribbling something down any chance I got: diary entries, letters, stories, fanfic. I wrote a ridiculous amount of words back then (most of them not very good).

Then what happened? I graduated high school and things changed. The world said I had become an “adult”. The fanfic I was writing at the time turned into a drama-filled burden, so I quit that and decided to put my effort into other written work instead. But I also got a “real” job (then another, and finally another), bought my first house, and started to have “life things” going on, many of them not good. I wrote less. Then a lot less. Projects stagnated, then were shelved. Some of those not good “life things” actually got pretty bad and for several years straight I basically wrote absolutely nothing worth mentioning.

2010 was the turning point, sort of. I was still a godawful mess that year, but I was also getting more involved with EVE OnlineSolitary Pilot became a thing, and between 2010 and the fall of 2012 I wrote 225,000 words on that website. I’ve since added more, but that was the bulk of it.

Holy shit. 225,000 words! Gimme a minute here, mind is blown.


Frogged

I frogged a crochet project for the first time yesterday.

Frogging, as I have learned, is a slang term used in crochet, knit, and even cross-stitch communities to describe the act of unraveling work (pulling out a portion, or all, of the stitches). It’s a play on words: frogs say “ribbit, ribbit, ribbit” when they croak; when crafters find a mistake in their work, or decide they no longer want to continue with that work (or want to recover the yarn to do something else), they “rip it, rip it, rip it”.