side by each


These photos were both taken on the same day in March.  I took the one on the left from my back door.  Super Ralphie took the one on the right from a church tower in Barcelona.

march 22 side by each

Next Sunday I’ll be taking my own ocean photos and, as of today, our backyard still looks like this.  Saskatoon, I apologize if SR’s karma has caused any inconvenience.


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The trees are budding!

spring budsThis is how spring rolls here on the prairies…

(mmmm…spring rolls)

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Deja Vu2



U2 Penguins

I was at the Vancouver Aquarium just before Xmas, hangin’ out with the jelly fish and coelaocanths when I noticed some penguins re-enacting old U2 posters, you know, ironically. Then they waddled off with a six of Pabst to listen to some vinyl.

Penguins gonna Peng, my friend. Penguins gonna Peng.

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…staff profile

Thomas, the Wondercat – as assistants go, he’s been the most dependable, loyal, whiney, loudmouthed, inspiring and comforting right-hand anyone could ask for.  But he still can’t make coffee worth a damn.

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The end is nigh…

This is an honest-to-goodness unaltered shot of the twilight sky in my backyard the evening of August 16.  I was absolutely certain hooded figures, flaming swords held high, would descend on winged horses.  If I recall correctly, there wasn’t so much as a decent bolt of lightning.  Armageddon can be so disappointing.

It has been brought to my attention that I used to have a blog where I would share bits of flotsam and occasionally try my hand at off-loading some of the random thoughts that keep me up at night.

I’ve been distracted.  A bit lost.  Neglectful even.  There is a small contingent of very groovy people scattered across the continent who are starting to believe the rumours that I’ve reached operating thetan level 15 and transcended corporeal form.  Others just think I’m being a douche.   (The others are probably closer to the truth than I’ll admit.)

But, hey – I found my login, and here I am.  Bloggin’ it old school.  Go, Bloggy, it’s yer birthday. (It actually is… my birthday. Irony lives!)  Middle aged white women using dated slang – it’s hilarious, no?

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Neither here nor there…

Taken August 10, 2011 at Diefenbaker Park

The Half Moon

Christina Rossetti

The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness
  Ready and poised to wax or wane;
A fire of pale desire in incompleteness,
  Tending to pleasure or to pain:—
Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness
  To perfect loss or perfect gain.

Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness;
  This world is all on wax, on wane:
When shall completeness round time’s incompleteness,
  Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?—
Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness
  To finished loss or finished gain.

On that night, at that very moment, I was frozen inside this poem – not knowing if I was standing in uncertainty or possibility.  As the lady says, ” life rolleth on in fleetness”.


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Over the years, we’ve attempted a garden in every home where we’ve had access to a yard.  I say ‘attempted’ because there always seemed to be an insurmountable hurdle between us and fresh veggies.  Between my lack of attention and the excessive attention of various critters, we haven’t had much luck over the years.  But this year…this year, in our tiny city garden, we achieved produce.  An actual harvest.  A crop of basil.  A crapload of tomatoes.  Beans, peas, peppers, zucchini.  There were even squash – though they were struck down by a freak frost early in September. 

Our only other success story was our first, most loved, and most tended garden.  In the backyard of a rented duplex in Victoria, we tilled a good third of the yard and planted row upon row of tomatoes and zucchini, beans, peppers, cucumbers, and peas.

I’d never done this before, I really wasn’t sure what kind of yield each plant would produce…but by mid-June, we were already awash in fresh vegetables.  In fact, we couldn’t keep ahead of the plants.  We had started bringing vegetables to work, leaving them in lunch rooms.  Our annual solstice party ‘favours’  involved parading our guests to the garden to pick their own zucchini by lantern. (I’ll never forget the image of Sherrill sauntering down the sidewalk at 2am cradling one the size of a baby.)

By the end of July we were close to panic.  The freezer was full, our tiny apartment was overrun with jars and the plants were relentless.  People started avoiding eye contact when we’d ask if they’d like more tomatoes.  There were discreet conversations at work, quietly banning any more beans on the lunchroom counters.  We found ourselves buying gift-bags from the dollar store, filling them with fresh picked goodness and sneaking out into the night, leaving them on doorsteps around the neighborhood.

The thought of cutting the plants down, or leaving the crop unharvested never occurred to us.  It was imperative that each plump, ripe piece of produce found its own home, to be appreciated and savoured.  It’s destiny fulfilled.

For more than a decade I’ve brooded over gardens with poor soil, fought wars with deer, rabbits and porcupines, and watched in frustration as birds stripped my chard back to the ribs.  Now here we are, rewarded – finally – with a taste of that sweet summer when we took abundance for granted.

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Almost from the moment friends separate, or lovers

each becomes somebody else, another

living on inside the other.

A year passes,    five years,    ten.

Something always dies when we meet again.

-Alden Nowlan

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For several weeks in June and July, every time I drove down Cumberland Avenue, just past Taylor, I saw the Mystery Machine.  Just sitting there.  Parked outside a tidy bungalow in a quiet residential area of Saskatoon.  All aqua and orange and screaming of intrigue.

Each time I saw it I had two simultaneous thoughts; “I really should stop and take a photo – ’cause who’s going to believe I saw the Mystery Machine?”, and “Jinkies! Let’s split up and look for clues.”. 

Every day I would drive by and imagine what kind of kooky shenanigans were taking place…but I’d have an appointment or an errand to run, and I’d carry on. 

Then, one day it was gone.  At some point, while I was prepping a workshop, or going to a meeting, or making dinner, there had been a Machiavellian overlord standing on the streets of Saskatoon muttering, “…and I would have gotten away with it too…if it hadn’t been for you meddling kids”.  And I missed it.

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Wondering what Bridghid’s been up to?

Two words:  Road Trip!

Two days filled with prairie picnics; exploring the Badlands; riding dinosaurs in Drumheller (followed shortly by running from a pack of crazed zombie ground squirrels); visiting with the family; BAD Thai food; a day at Calgary Expo silently hoping that someone would take the mic away from Kate Vernon (Ellen Tigh from BSG) as she cocooned herself in awkward; farmers market;  Crate & Barrel; and unparalleled corn puff thingies. 

I don’t even want to talk about what happens when you give a sock monkey tequila.

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