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It has been a while.

Last week was March Break Week.  With the kids monopolizing the house - my office included - it was hardly a time to get any work done.  It was just as well.  If I had been working I might have missed out on this:

The snow was fleeing the woods across the river.  As temperatures warmed during the day and plummeted at night we were treated to spectacular ice formations like this one.

And like this one:

When the kids weren't outside looking at natural scenes, they made their own:

On one of our outings - at Templin Gardens downtown - we saw this handsome gent:

We also experienced a "SUPERMOON" where, I was told, the moon was 2% closer and 15% brighter than average.  We were worried that it would be overcast, but the clouds drifted away.  We brought down the boy's telescope and the images through the eyepiece were astoundingly crisp.  Unfortunately we don't have specialized photo equipment, so the image below is a best attempt with our little digital camera.

During the March break week it became obvious that my long love/hate relationship with the Impala was growing to a close.  The brakes finally failed.  Fortunately it was expected and happened in the driveway.  We were not about to put another penny in the old red car, so I told the kids to say goodbye:

It was a good old car that had safely seen us to P.E.I. and back and all points in between.  Speaking of the moon, we'd almost racked up enough kilometres on the odometer to get there.  It has been consigned to the Kidney Foundation to be recycled.  I'm told a tax receipt will find its way into our mailbox.

Big Red Car

2000 - 2011

Back to the Antlered Man

It has been a difficult month all around.  I find myself emotionally hypersensitive to everything.  On the weekend the family went to the local Museum and Archives where I found myself tearing up as I read a letter from a school girl to a sailor from the Second World War.  I've been unable - or maybe unwilling - to sit down and write anything, but I've run out of excuses to stay away from the keyboard.

In the weeks before Christmas I revisited my novella, The Platinum Ticket, rewriting it and building it into a novel.  I really enjoyed the process and, although I haven't re-read the finished product yet, think it grew into a pretty decent novel.

I have two other novellas which could stand to grow into novels.  Patriot may be the best thing I've written.  It is certainly my favourite.  Patriot will be lengthened to a novel some day, but not just yet.

Herne is a story I wrote a few years back for the 3 Day Novel contest.  Last night I pulled out a marked-up copy of the manuscript and read over a few sections.  As I read, I saw opportunities to make Herne so much more than what it is right now.  Don't get me wrong - it's a fine story as it is, but last night I saw real potential for a much better bit of writing.

I was contemplating a new project before this difficult month began and it looks like something has surfaced from all of the chaos.   So be it.  Herne it is.

Goodbye, Old Man

This is Duffer.

I have known Duffer for 20 years.  When I met him he was almost four years old.  He and I didn't hit it off at first.  He was one of 2 cats my girlfriend (now my wife) owned.  The other cat loved me.  Duffer didn't.  In fact, for the first year my future wife and I lived together, Duffer peed on just about everything I owned.  When it was obvious that I was going to be around for a while, the pissing match ended in a long standing truce.

When the other cat, Jesse, died a few years back, Duffer began to warm up to me.  After only 17 years he decided to be my friend.  My wife was still the human of choice, but I became a close second.  I would often end up with his frail form curled up on my lap, purring like a kitten.

Over the past few months we'd seen a decline in our old pal.  He moved just a little bit slower and grew a little thinner each week.  He was still bright and alert most of the time, although there were times he would pause while lying down, as if he couldn't remember if he was lying down or getting up.  Old as he was, he always made the trip down the steep basement stairs to use his litter box.  His appetite was good, until about a week ago.

Good old Duff had been eating less and his movements had slowed considerably, but his eyes were still bright and he was in no pain.  When you lifted him up, he'd still snuggle in and demand his pets, purring all the time.

Last night, after dinner, we discovered that Duffer had quietly removed himself to my daughter's room where he lay down for the last time.

Good-bye, Old Man.