tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66681891777722503182024-03-18T20:35:28.084-07:00Random thoughts and short storiesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-87251216536385379332013-03-01T20:57:00.000-08:002013-03-01T20:57:55.738-08:00A kind of Homecoming - Chapter 7<br />
<br />
<br />
<h2 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
7</h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Abbey realized
she had been holding her breath as she stared out of the window, her muscles
tensed reflexively as she gasped for air.
She squinted at the curtains; they were pushed back as far as they could
go along the length of the black metal curtain rod. The tail on the left side was flipped up hanging
over the arm of the chair; the other side twisted exposing the lining. The window sat undisturbed, the glass still
intact, the sash still tight against the frame.
How could someone have simply passed through glass, it could be the
story line for an X-Files episode or Stephen King novel but this was real. Even as Abbey tried rationalizing this there was
no way around the evidence, at least the stuff that was still <i>in </i>the room. She looked all about her as if to confirm
what she had been thinking, and yet, if someone was telling her the story she
would be the first one waiting for the punch line. A trace of a smile passed over her lips just
as a wave of nausea pushed in, a simple reminder that this was no joke. She fought it off, being sick anytime felt
like a sign of weakness and at the moment if felt like an excuse. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A headache followed close behind and she closed her eyes to
trying to block it. Raising her hand up
to her face she winced as her fingers brushed across a large bump forming above
her right temple. The dull ache reminded
her of when she was twelve; her brother had been fooling around in the house
with a tennis racket, pretending he was McEnroe performing one of his signature
temper tantrums. Abbey caught the edge of
the racket right between the eyes and she tumbled backwards into the hallway. Jorge of course had rushed to her side but she
remembers that when she looked up it was not Jorge that was kneeling beside
her, I was her Grandmother. Her face, she was so young and beautiful – she said
everything was going to be all right.
Abbey broke into tears. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another wave of nausea hit hard and fast, there was no
fighting this one off, nothing to do but hang on and go for the ride. She rolled to one side catching a glimpse of
her right foot that had been neatly folded under her after falling into the hole
in the floor. She cried out as a sharp
pain telegraphed up her leg. Shaking and
crying she wrapped her arms around her bare legs; pulling them together panting
loudly and growling underneath each breath hoping that it might somehow relieve
the pain when she heard a faint knock at the door. Abbey held her breath and listened but it was
quiet, panic washed over her not sure of what she may have heard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A second knock echoed inside the room and she bit her lip to
keep from crying out. She inhaled
deeply, on the verge of yelling when she heard the unmistakable sound of
someone walking across the floor and down the steps to the front door. A chill ran up her spine, the hairs lifting on
her neck and arms. Then she heard the
unmistakable sound of the deadbolt as it clicked and turned inside the
cylinder. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, hello, I didn’t think anyone was home, I hope I’m not
troubling you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, no, not at all.
How can I help you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What the hell? Holy
shit, who is in my house?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a short conversation too quiet for Abbey to make
out but for more than a few words. She
thought she heard the name Strauss, then a hearty “Merry Christmas” just before
the sound of the door closing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Abbey’s breathing increased and her mouth went dry. “What
the fuck?” she whispered to herself.
Whoever was out there was coming up the stairs, Hard souled shoes clicked on the tiled
staircase, pausing briefly as they reached the top and started getting
closer. Her pulse rocketed and she could
hear the pounding in her ears. The
door! She had to block it somehow; block
out the searing pain as she leaned over and dragged herself across the floor. It was getting closer. Click, click, click, Abbey tried to picture
the length of the hall, she’d walked it a million times. How come she couldn’t
think of how many steps it took. Six,
seven, maybe 8 tops and whoever it was would be at the door. Abbey pulled herself up on her hands and
lunged at a chair close to the door managing to slide the back just under the handle
as it began to push down. She began to
breathe again and there was a rapid jiggling on the handle and the door began
to shake.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Who are you, what do you want!” Abbey screamed. The rattling stopped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Very clever Abbey, I hope you didn’t think that was someone
coming to stop us.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Stop you from what? And what do you mean us?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Us? Why you and me
Abbey!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Abbey sat leaning against the door, her mind whirling. “There
is no you and me, I don’t know who you are.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ah but you do, and I know you very well my darling we’ll
have plenty of time to chat once things get back to normal.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What the hell are you talking about, back to normal, normal
left sometime after supper last night? This... I don’t know what this is and I
don’t like you being in my house!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s our house now darling; you might want to keep that in
mind. Oh, and you better wash up now,
dinner will be ready soon and the guests will be arriving. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Abbey closed her eyes and started shouting, “No, NO, NO! Get
out go back to where you came from!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a few seconds of silence before the sound of footsteps
clicked and echoed down the hall towards the living room, within seconds a fire
orange glow of light flickering under the bottom of the door and Abbey realized
that there was a now a fire in the other room.
The images from the other night flashed behind her eyes; what she
thought was only a dream was something much bigger. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The familiar buzzing of her cell phone announced an incoming
call. She was terrified to move from
the door but knew she had no choice.
Abbey rolled on to her left side and began clawing her way over to the
phone reaching it just in time. “Hello?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Silence, for what seemed like forever then – Hello, Abbey is
that you? What’s the matter?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Francis, I’m so glad you called, I don’t have time to
explain, please…click. “Francis, hello, are
you there? Francis!” Abbey knew that the call was lost and was just about to
call back when it began to buzz in her hand. The reception was horrible and
there was a lot of static. The voice of an overly cheerful operator came on the
line, “We’re sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed, please hang up and
try your call again, we’re sorry, your call-.” The light flickered and went
out. The phone was dead, she began to cry.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After about 5 min the sobbing had subsided, she wiped her
eyes and looked down at the floor letters strewn about her when she noticed a
familiar name, Albert Brude. She picked
up the envelope and flipped it over and saw it was addressed to her. She had just finished closing his estate, how
was it possible to have a letter concealed in the floor of her bedroom. She put it to the side and picked up another
one that had Ted Jacobs name printed in sharp precise lettering, he was the
train engineer in the accident with Albert.
She began organizing and stacking the envelopes, most of them were from
people she had helped over the past year, all of them with a family member that
had died or were dead themselves like Albert.
Others she didn’t recognize at all and stacked them in a small pile to
the right. She found a large manila
envelope covered in doodles of moons and stars that had her name handwritten
across the front and below it were three small words. Don’t be afraid. She
sliced it open and searched the edge with her fingers for a piece of paper but
it was empty. She pulled the ends apart
and looked into the sleeve and saw a small business card and reached in and
read the name on the card, Mystic Angels -psychic readings by Anna Krauss. Abbey stared at the card and read it over
several times before she realized why it sounded so familiar. It wasn’t Strauss she heard the voice at the
door say, it was Krauss. It was too much
of a coincidence for it not to be. Abbey
pulled herself over to her desk and pulled down a pad of paper and a pen and
began to write. When she was finished
she sealed the letter in an envelope and addressed it to Anna before dropping
it into the hole in the floor and covering it up. She waited 5 minutes before removing the
section of flooring again and smiled, there was nothing there, just as she
thought.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-56041633536734710062013-03-01T20:52:00.001-08:002013-03-01T20:52:18.463-08:00Water like stone<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The water is like stone, heavy on my back. I shake the world off with gritty hands
filling the voids with fragmented sediment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hold steadfast to great plumes of grey smoke that rise from
autumn fires as the forest looks on, snow nestled in a thousand bows, lidless
eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Be good to yourself you said, and always remember to
remember.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Imagine innocence and the pure beauty of youth…It will
sustain you I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Strawberry fields of winter snow lay at the feet of bended knees
as the catacombs of spring lay beneath, rich and sweet, patiently waiting.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-38969255463068625442013-02-02T21:16:00.002-08:002013-02-02T21:16:05.636-08:00A kind of Homecoming - Chapter 6<br />
<h2 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
6<o:p></o:p></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie
closed her eyes and stared at the ceiling.
She had gone to bed, more out of habit than for sleep and pulled the
covers over her as she had always done in her 8 years of marriage. Habits are hard things to break, the little
things we do for ourselves or for others.
Sleeping on the left hand side of the bed for instance when you don’t
have to. She listened to the noises of
the house and the rattle of an engine as it cruised down the street. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sleep came slowly but it did come and she woke up laying in
pretty much the same position. She had
that familiar jet lagged feeling of having too little sleep and with the sense
of being in a strange place. It had been
a warm night for end of September but she was still wrapped up in the
comforter. She casually thought of how
Gary would have had kicked off everything and still complain it was too hot, or
worse, he would have the sheets pulled so tight that you could barely
move. With that she kicked her feet side
to side enjoying the freedom of it, it felt almost luxurious and she began to
laugh in spite of the empty feeling she carried, tears streaming down over her
cheeks the whole time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sun was high in the sky when she finally decided enough
was enough, “<i>action needed to be taken</i>!”
popped the voice of her mother in her head.
She slipped out of bed and crossed the floor to the bathroom stepping
over her clothes that lay strewn across the floor from where she dropped them last
night. She didn’t bother getting dressed
and headed towards the kitchen catching a glimpse of her reflection in the
mirror and stopped, looking at the face and shape of a woman she did not
recognize. How long had it been since
she had looked at herself, honestly? A
chorus of echoes inside her head yelled <i>Years</i>
- and yet the woman staring back was not altogether displeasing. She had always been active and so she was
firm in all the right places and no gray hairs yet, well maybe one or two but
it didn’t matter. She lifted herself up
on her toes and turned sideways looking back over her shoulder and smiled. An unexpected feeling like teenage giddiness
softened the melancholy of the empty room and she left the door open as she
headed down to the kitchen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She placed a fry pan over the element and turned the knob on
the range and a bright blue fame sprung to life. As the pan heated she pulled out some eggs
and orange juice from the fridge. The
sun room was bright and inviting; the warmth of the morning sun heated up the
slate tiles and pushed a warm breeze across the kitchen to where she stood and raised
goose bumps on her bare arms and breasts.
As she stood there, she noticed the business card that Anna had given
her stuck to the fridge door. “Abbey
Parker” – she read the name out loud then looked at the number. “This can’t be right, Delta 559. They haven’t
had numbers like that in years. How
would you even call a number like that?”
There was a popping sound from the frying pan clearing her thought. She jumped not realizing she had even cracked
an egg, in fact her glass was full of orange juice, coffee was made and the
toaster sprung up a second later with two pieces of bread. Melanie had prepared everything without
memory of doing any of it. She finished
up and made her way over to the nook and sat down in the sun looking over the
place setting. Her mind was trying to
catch up but her body was already dipping the corner of the toast into the
middle of the yolk. Melanie began wolfing
down her breakfast like she did when she was 5, eager to get outside to play. The warm golden yolk of the eggs spreading
out over the plate was delicious and tasted like nothing she had ever had
before. Within minutes she was done and
ran the last piece of toast across the plate scraping up tail ends. Melanie relaxed and sat back in the seat and
took a sip of coffee when she heard a clicking sound coming from the
counter. She looked over and saw the
carton of eggs sitting out beside the stove. The clicking began to increase in
speed and get louder; little chips of shell broke off and dropped on to the
floor. Within seconds a small beak
popped out, then another. She dropped
her cup and hot coffee spilled down over her legs making her jump up. Multiple chirps echoed inside the kitchen
instinctively she placed her hands over her ears and lowered her head to block
it out. After a few minutes the noise
stopped and Melanie cautiously looked up and her gaze froze on her plate. The residue of yolk on the plate had turned
blood red, small drops that left a trail from the plate to where Melanie had
lifted the toast up to her mouth. Her
stomach heaved and she felt the rise of fluids in her throat making her want to
scream and throw up at the same time.
She jumped up and backed away from the table coughing and spitting out
little pieces of toast and bile on the floor just as the phone began to
ring. She answered frantically, hoping
the person on the other end could help.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello, hello?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nothing more than static filled the ear piece.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello, who is this?” said Melanie again but the phone began
to ring again in her hand and she dropped the receiver. As it bounced off the wall the cord
straightened and turned into a bell shape as it remained swinging back and
forth. The phone had changed into a
period model, with a wooden box and fixed mouth piece. The ringing continued but changed in tone,
over and over and she felt like she was being pushed backwards and over
something hard in the middle of the room.
She fell backwards and just as she felt herself hit the floor she
bounced back up in bed drenched in sweat and still wearing the clothes from the
night before. Her body was achy and
stiff and the cloud of sleep infused with the depth of the dream made her feel
like she needed to move gently. She
slowly rolled over on her side facing the night stand cluttered with Kleenex,
pill bottles and various hand creams over that surrounded the alarm clock and
night lamp. As she focused on the clock
to check the time she noticed a small white card clipped to the rim of the lamp
with a clothes pin. It was a business
card, the same card that she received
the other day from the young girl living next door; Abbey Parker, Madison and Harper Law.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie sat up quickly and rested on the edge of the bed
drawing in a deep breath trying to gather her thoughts and push out the images
of the mornings dream. Each time she
closed her eyes the cracking shells hitting the floor and tiny heads poking out
was all she could see. Shuddering she
stood up and peeled each piece of clothing off and let them drop to the floor. On her way over to the dresser catching a
glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused.
She half expected to see egg shells stuck to her bare skin but there was
nothing. The rest of the morning was
routine, coffee and a dish of yogurt with granola, no eggs on the menu for a
while. She started the dishwasher after
she had cleaned up and was just wiping the counter when there was a knock at the
door. Anna stood in the same place as
she had the previous day holding the morning paper in one hand and a set of car
keys pinched firmly between two fingers in the other. “We need to go for a drive!” she said rather
sternly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie hesitated, almost ready to object but something in Anna’s
tone measured something a bit more than what it appeared. “Okay, yes, come in while I get my things.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anna stepped in and stood in the hall and placed the paper
down on a mahogany table. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do we need coffee for this?
I just made a fresh pot this morning?
Will we be long?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I never say no to coffee, good idea. We should be about 2 hours I would guess.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can I ask where we are going?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You can but you won’t recognize it once we’re there
anyway.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her lips parted; ready to make a comment but only air
escaped in the form of a very faint “huh?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I know how that must sound but you will understand what I
mean I promise.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Considering the fact I just met you yesterday after my
husband remarried someone else under my nose that resulted in a horrific
nightmare… I would say I doubt it.” “But
for some unexplainable reason, I trust you, here is your coffee.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anna smiled and stretched out her arm. “Thanks, it does
sound crazy doesn’t it? I’m not exactly
sure myself why I’m here. Something told
me I needed to do this and it needed to be with you. Ready?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I guess.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Within fifteen minutes they were on the highway heading
southwest passing by the last row of houses on the street they headed out into
the flat prairie, round bales of straw dotting the landscape. Yellow and brown leaves swirled in the wind
of the car at the side of the road. Anna
turned right at the next intersection and pressed hard on the accelerator. Melanie sunk back into the seat and looked
over a little apprehensively, “Whoa, what’s the hurry?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We have to get there for noon.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Without shifting her focus, she raised one eyebrow and
recounted sarcastically, “ah I see, <i>Noon</i>,
of course. Actually, isn’t it supposed
to be midnight?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ann ignored the remark and kept her eyes on the road, after
all how could she know.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How long ‘till we get to the spot?” asked Melanie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Should take about an hour!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you mind if I close my eyes? Terrible dream last night,
remind me to tell it to you sometime.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No problem, I’ll wake you just before we’re there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She closed her eyes and drifted in and out, feeling the rise
and fall of the road on the hills as they headed into the foothills. They were just passing over the crest of one
when Anna slammed on the brakes and steered into a roadside turn off at the
edge of an old cemetery. Melanie sat
straight up and reached out for something to hang on to. The car settled to a stop in a cloud of dust
that followed a breeze straight down the road ahead of them. A magpie lifted up into the air, disturbed of
its seed gathering and flew up into the cross brace of the nearby telephone
pole. Both girls followed the bird’s
movement and then followed the progression of dark brown poles and wire that marked
the edge of the road off into the distance.
Anna got out first motioning for Melanie to do the same leaving the door
ajar. Melanie watched Anna move around
the car and through the ditch towards the cemetery. She started quickly after her when it looked
like she wasn’t stopping any time soon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re right about one thing; I don’t recognize this place
at all.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s because it’s missing something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I drive this way out to Banff all the time but it all looks
the same”… her voice trailing off. “How
exactly do you know that I travel out here enough to recognize that something
is missing or out of place?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anna had her back to Melanie looking intently down at a
large headstone and didn’t answer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie charged through the grass and grabbed Anna’s
shoulder intending to make her look up; look back at her when she caught was Anna
was looking at. The sandstone marker had several names on it for a couple of
generations of family members. It had
eroded over the years but was somehow the small chips and weather worn edges
were repairing themselves. Anna stepped
forward and pushed a large clump of grass to the side revealing a flat black
granite headstone with the name William Adamson on it, Born 1808, Died 1889
then pointed out towards a farm house in the distance, “Look over there.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What am I looking at?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“See the farm over there?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, but...”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Shhh, just wait, watch the farm and the road past the
house.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie looked at Anna a bit suspiciously but did as she was
asked and stared off at the horizon and the old farm house. There was a shimming like a heat wave off
pavement on a hot summer day and gradually the black asphalt began to lighten
and turn gray. She wasn’t sure but it
almost looked like it had a textured appearance as well. “Is that gravel?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before Anna could answer Melanie choked out “holy
shit.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anna looked up and nodded, “I noticed this this last week
when I was a bit farther out West. No
idea how long it’s been happening but it seems to be speeding up. At first I thought it was random power
problems, maybe related to the dam, but the more I watched it started to make
sense. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie watched as the road past the farm driveway began to
shimmer and change colour. It was almost
like a funnel of mature hay, golden brown and ready for harvest was growing
down the road. Just then the small
second house at the end of the property simply vanished. “Oh my god, what the hell is going on?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anna answered Melanie’s thoughts as if she had heard her ask
the question. “I think it’s all reversing and repairing the changes we’ve made,
the history of civilization. I think that house was built early 1940’s.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She had to force herself to look away and she found herself
staring down at a thick patch of prairie grass where the black tombstone used
to be. “Anna, are you seeing what I’m
not seeing?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That house belonged to Mr. Adamson” whispered Anna pointing
down to the headstone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This is insane, how can time simply be erasing itself like
this, and more importantly where does it end?” Suddenly there was a large tree stump about 4
feet in front of them, rotted out at the base.
They quickly walked over to the side of the road again; afraid of what
might disappear, but the realization that something could also reappear or come
back suddenly dawned on them. They
looked out towards the Adamson farm again, the road now ended at the foot of
the driveway but things seemed to have settled.
The valley between where they stood was still covered in crop at some
places but already harvested in most and ready for winter. A light mist was beginning to form in the low
areas as the warmth of the day began to let go as the sun began to slide behind
the mountains. What they didn’t see was
the small river that was once again flowing at the very bottom of the valley. The valley has been dry since 1983 when a dam
was put in to act as a reservoir and power supply to control floods from the
Red Deer River. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the car pulled away Anna watched in the rear view mirror
catching glimpses and fragments of changes.
Melanie refused to look at anything else; she pulled her hat down over
her closed eyes and waited until they were back to the intersection just at the
edge of town. As they turned to head
back to the house they were both aware that there were no changes, nothing had disappeared, nothing
added, not even the paint on the houses.
They looked at each other but said nothing, didn’t need to say anything,
and drove the rest of the way in silence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As Anna pulled into the driveway she was deep in thought and
jumped as Melanie spoke. “There has to
be a source, a starting point to all this”, she had been looking straight ahead
but looked over at Anna as she continued.
“Have you seen anything on the news?
We can’t be the only ones who have noticed this – Right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anna shifted the gear to Park but left the car idling and
reached over hitting the power button on the radio. The display light up but
there was just static. When she hit the
seek button the numbers cycled around the entire FM band. “Maybe we are just in a void or something on
the driveway.” Anna shifted the
transmission into drive and pulled forward letting the radio continue its
infinite cycle in search of a signal.
She crept forward as far as she could go and then back. “Nothing” she
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Let’s drive through town and see if we can find something.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They drove in a crisscross pattern for about a half hour
when the dial stopped and a voice penetrated the silence. It was so unexpected Anna slammed her foot on
the brake and came to a screeching halt in front of an old house that had been
turned into a Law office. “No, no way,
it can’t be.” Melanie reached into her
pocket and pulled out the business card for Abbey Parker, Madison and Harper
Law. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-86743513160314991332013-01-16T21:44:00.001-08:002013-01-16T21:46:36.645-08:00Closed on Thursdays<br />
<h2>
<br /></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I wrap my tired arms around your closed off flesh. Tried
to beat into you - I love you, I love! </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
You just shook it off and wiped it clean with a glove.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Can’t wait to see what happens next, god dam this living
god dam this mess. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Shoe boxes full of laces and letters of bilk, razor blade
apples and cyanide milk. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I stare at the ceiling but I can’t make it work. God dam
this living god dam my soul its not that I want to I just can’t control.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I can see the end so clear don’t know why, you can’t see
it too, there’s just so much everything and everything’s you.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Cigarette burns on the back of your hand, candy coated meth
balls to make you subdued.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jet fuel and ashes cover the earth, life is for living from
day one of your birth but I just can’t stand it all the fuss and the shit, god
dam this living I don’t see the worth</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sunshine and rain showers, snow storms and floods, black
hoods and iron rods coming back all in blood. Why can’t they just let me be</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
God dam this living, it feels more like hell, needles and
2x4s do just as well to stop all the voices inside my head, time to stop screaming,
time enough to be dead.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God dam this living,
god dam this mess, if it seems I’m unhappy it’s because of the dress,.. the
dance.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There’s only escape in shadow and dust, kick off the bed
sheets and roll in the crush of this 4 star traveling day dream peep show, the
playgrounds on fire and the children all know. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
God dam the sinners and saints meet there too, just an
average night in the life of a muse, forgotten and broken in throw away shoes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The shallow rise and
fall of the battered and broken make me feel so alive, I feel so unspoken of
words that elude me again and again it’s late and I’m tired it’s time now to
end.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-19269313181305340822012-12-20T20:40:00.000-08:002012-12-20T20:40:30.626-08:00A Winter Poem<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<h2 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
A Winter Poem</h2>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I
stand looking at the small window at the back of the house, a candle yellow hue
framed in black. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I breathe in the freezing air and it feels like the blackness
of night as well; the sting of it burning my lungs and bleeding steam as I exhaled. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
You are not there, no one is but I picture you all the
same. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I
have to, or go mad in accepting I can’t bring you back. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I lift my scarf up
to cover my face; the faint tenuous fragrance still in the fibres lifts my
spirit and closing my eyes I fold into the din and disappear.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I have to accept the madness of knowing you
have disappeared too. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
They say time heals all wounds but I think it only
outruns them. Time encapsulates the
memory so you can only see it as if behind a glass, preserved but no way to get
through it.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I
hold my breath and picture you, I have to or it will be like you never existed.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But I see your smile, your soft amber lips and emerald
eyes and I so dearly wish I could understand the wordless stories they used to
tell me. I reach out to touch you but I
stop myself for if I don’t then it will only remind me you are gone.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I stand looking at the small window at the back of the
house and I breathe in the freezing air letting it burn my lungs so I cannot
speak.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I
have to or I will go mad with the knowledge I can never say I love you again.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
RB).</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-9502969321125311822012-12-05T11:57:00.000-08:002012-12-05T11:57:08.884-08:00To Move<br />
<h3 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
To Move<o:p></o:p></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Go forth and bellow for the art of moving men is a simple
recipe of blood, fire, metal and stone.
Given no reason at all his seductive mind conjures all the ingredients
to produce spontaneous and combustive prejudice against everything in spite of
himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whisper into empty shells and let the echo reverberate, sail
on the breeze and to the ears of those that have nothing to lose but their passion
and so the seed of influence sprouts and feeds their minds and soul for power.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sit alone with split fingers, molding together reflection
and perception into art that transcends time and space to alter tradition and faith
with the subtlety of ocean tides. Cast
the net and capture the essence of man’s soul and let eternity either chide the
maker or praise his end. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Compassion and hope to heal the dispirited minds and
fractured bodies in simple gesture and reassuring tones that teach and multiply
efforts ten thousand fold to bleed away sheer existence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love yourself unconditionally and in that truth, share it in
order that others can understand it and erase barriers hidden by all other
senses. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-77500725983925374462012-11-22T21:36:00.000-08:002012-11-22T21:36:49.437-08:00A Letter to Myself<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>A Letter to Myself</u></div>
<br />
<br />
Forgive me, my friend. for I do not mean to make you feel sad - melancholy. And it is with trepidation that I enter into this one sided dialogue but it is important, these things that I must tell you for the summers grow short.<br />
Some things are obvious, like the changing of the seasons, each quarter year unique and yet comfortably familiar. Almost lulling you into a kind of sublime rhetoric. It is only wen you look back that you can truly see ahead.<br />
For instance, you will probably type this and save it digitally on the computer.<br />
1's and 0's<br />
Don't fool yourself into thinking it is more real than pen and paper, the paper you leave behind as you are typing. This technology only came into existence in your lifetime, along with cell phones, remote keyless anything, hell TV for that matter. No good sir, nothing you take for granted now even mattered when the only thing that did was just letting you be.<br />
How simple (pause) how simple it is to find the frame of reference in your mind and imagine the innocence and beauty of youth but impossible to find the tongue to speak of it.<br />
Friends come and go along with the changing seasons, scatter like the fallen leaves of Autumn and grey like the mantle of fresh fallen snow. On and on it goes......melting away into spring. New generations to replace the last.<br />
You will travel many miles in your life, physically and mentally and always will you have a place to call home but none so grand as the home you make for yourself in your heart.<br />
So be good to yourself and keep the heart of youth to carry as companion on your journey and always remember to remember.<br />
<br />
rb)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-15219333542883181822012-11-21T19:32:00.000-08:002012-11-21T19:32:23.493-08:00The art of life<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
With monkeys paw I scribe the notes of grandeur and bliss, of hope and dreams on loved ones missed<br />
to each days end I push the barrow filled of stone<br />
up the hill and through the bone<br />
In a hope that a path may one day lead<br />
to ever eternal peace<br />
but for now I struggle onward and bound<br />
by pain and strife and grief.<br />
(rb<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-26602168123905496212012-10-29T20:53:00.000-07:002012-10-29T20:53:16.755-07:00A Kind of Homecoming Chapter 5<br />
<h2 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
5</h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A
single yellow leaf dropped onto Melanie’s lap as she sat sipping coffee and
scanning through the virtual pages of her Face book account. The concept of changing seasons to a Canadian
is a simple truth that is as accepted as night and day to everyone else but the
hard evidence of that truth, in the form of a falling leaf still evokes a
certain melancholy. Kind of like a torch
being passed over; the warm forgiving nights of summer for the golden hues of yellows
and oranges and cooler days that is autumn.
From there it is only a matter of time until the long dark nights of
winter accumulate as much as they do in a season as in our own selves as the
years pass. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She looked up and watched the leaves shimmer in the warm
September air and wondered just how she got to this place. It was a change of season for her in a sense
as she looked back down at the picture on the screen. It was a picture of her husband Gary dressed
in a slick black tuxedo, his hand clasped tight around the hand of his new
bride running away from the camera, he was laughing and wearing a smile of long
forgotten youth. She clicked on the
arrow taking her to another picture, this one of a beautiful girl in white
dress, a shower of rice raining down on her.
It was a beautiful wedding, but with one major flaw, it wasn’t her in
the white dress. During a random search
of friends she had simply stumbled through the photo albums of a dozen
strangers and while looking at those pictures, friends of friends, she
innocently came across a set of wedding pictures taken the previous
weekend. Melanie had stumbled across
pictures of her husband getting married to someone else while he was supposed
to be on a business trip. She was lost
in thought when the sound of a car pulling up the driveway snapped her back to
the here and now. Melanie closed the lid
of the laptop and rushed into the house meeting Gary as he slipped through the
patio doors into the kitchen. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mother-fucker! When exactly were you going to tell me? Actually what were you going to say, no wait
Fuck it I don’t’ wanna know.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mel, it was –“</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Shut up Gary you stupid asshole, just get the fuck out!” A
small cup crashed against the wall just past Gary’s head and rained fragments
of glass down the back of his shirt. A
second one landed remarkably close prompting Gary to charge forward with full
intention of stopping Melanie before she did something he would regret. He only managed one step before a hand-made ceramic
mug landed squarely across the bridge of his nose and a Fourth of July
explosion that dropped him to his knees followed. There was so much blood pouring through his
fingers he wasn’t sure if it was just from his nose or from the flap of skin
that he could feel at the edge of his left hand fingers. Stunned from the pain searing across his face
and how quickly things had unfolded his initial anger faded. He realized pretty quickly that Melanie must
know everything and there really wasn’t much to say. He got up, grabbed a handful of paper towels
and walked to the kitchen sink flipping on the tap and letting the water get
cold. After he cleaned up he casually
picked up a few personal items from the bedroom, a couple CD’s and walked
out. Melanie watched from the living
room window as he placed the small bag next to his suitcase that was still
packed in the car. He glanced up as he
made his way down the side of the car and opened the door, stepped in and in
seconds was driving away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie was still standing in the same spot, trance like, a
look of shock and hurt embedded in her features when there was a knock at the
door. She was going to ignore it when
there was a tiny click as the latch slide past the strike plate and the door
opened. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello?” came a shy voice.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, my name is Anna and I just moved in next
door, well renting a room actually while I’m in school. This is going to sound horrible and I hate
admitting this but I noticed your husband leaving, and well, I kind of heard a
little of the yelling. I’m sorry I
didn’t mean too, it’s just that with the windows open and all.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not sure if this is the best time-“</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, I know I really just wanted to give you this.” She said pulling out a card and handing it to
Melanie. “Where I come from there aren’t
many reasons –“ she stopped, “what I
mean to say is that if you need someone to talk to I’m a good listener.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Melanie looked down at the card, Mystic Angels – psychic
readings by Anna. “Listen, Anna, I
appreciate the compassionate speech, reaching out and all that but I don’t think
this is really me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That’s what most people say, until they try it.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, let me think about it. In the mean time you wouldn’t happen to have
a card of a good lawyer on you?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Actually, yes I do.
She is amazing, her name is Abbey Parker. I think she is going through something
similar to you only she doesn’t know it yet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-53088941763928738862012-09-29T20:48:00.002-07:002012-09-29T20:48:55.071-07:00A kind of Homecoming - Chapter 4<br />
<h2 align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US">4</span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"> As
the music faded, the voice of the radio announcer came on and started with the
top news story. Abbey reached over and
pressed down on the snooze button. “A
little disaster here, a murder there topped off with a feel good story to help
you forget how shitty things are, or should I say fucked up?” Sunlight was pouring into the room over the
bed, the warmth of it felt nice against her bare skin; she threw the covers off
to the side and just relaxed. The events of the evening put down to a horrible
nightmare, “too much work Abbey, that’s all.” She turned her head to the side
and spoke to the empty room, “not enough love either,” she said. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"> Her cell
phone began vibrating on the side table making her jump out of bed. Standing there, she could only stare at it,
as if it was something new, something to fear.
“That’s ridiculous! Glass and
plastic that’s all it is she muttered before leaning over to pick it up,
“Hello?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Abbey my love, how are you I’m so sorry to
hear about you and Francis, but things will get better, you’ll see - just look
behind you and you’ll see.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Yeah, I mean no, no everything is fine,
just a little weird. Wait, what? Look behind me, but that’s what the voice
said in my dream.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Abbey felt like she’d stepped into a tunnel
and let the phone drop away as she began to fall. She reached out but found only air and came
down hard hitting her head on the edge of the footboard and ended up face down
on the floor. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It could have been seconds, minutes or
hours but the room was black when she opened her eyes and uncomfortably
hot. Her body was glistening in sweat
and rivulets of water trickled down from the curve of her back as she tried to
sit up. The sensation of pins and needles tickled her left arm suggesting at
least that it had been more than just a few minutes. She began to rub her fingers to relieve the
sensation looking around as she did. The
question of the oppressive darkness was easily answered by the long heavy
drapes that were drawn tight and that the door to the ensuite bath and hall
were closed. The air was dense and humid,
triggering a coughing fit that at least kept away a case of claustrophobia. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Abbey reminded herself that she’d been in
the catacombs of Paris and through the Carlsbad caverns in New Mexico. The memories of that time made her smile and
she started feeling a little foolish. “Francis
must have come back and… and what, left me here naked on the floor and closed
the drapes? What the hell is going on?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The phone started vibrating on the floor
and she was back in the tunnel; her mind swirling as all the memories from the
night before came crashing in on her like waves. She tried fighting it off, tried to
rationalize it away, “Please, please, please, no!” Then the buzzing stopped. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Tears began welling up and there was an
overwhelming urge to scream when the phone began buzzing again, the backlight
casting an indigo blue light across the floor.
It had fallen beneath the bed, just out of reach from where Abbey sat
cross legged on the floor. She felt
around for something to put on in spite of the sauna-esk temperature when she
remembered that she had thrown a pile of Francis’ clothes on the floor. Her hands were shaking as she pulled a shirt
on and started fastening the buttons. The
phone clicked on again only this time it began to ring. It was a special ring
tone that Abbey had set up for when Francis’ called, a Cold Play song. The indigo blue light was like a beacon
sending a message of </span><span lang="EN-US">hope.
She dropped to her knees and crawled around to the side of the bed, <i>“<span class="line"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0cm;">Come
up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry </span></span></i></span><i><span lang="EN-US">You don't know how lovely
you are-“</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; padding: 0cm;"><br />
<br />
</span><span lang="EN-US">As the music played Abbey tried to reach under the bed
frame but the phone was farther up than she thought. “-<i>I had
to find you, tell you I need you,</i> “time was running out and she began to
feel panicked. She dropped to her
stomach and reached in hitting her hand against a storage box. “Fuck!” the
phone was on the other side of one of those long flat rubber maid containers
for storing extra clothes or bedding.
She grabbed a corner and pushed it to the side, watching it slide down
the length of the bed as the music continued to play. As she turned back to the
phone she could see something on the other side of the indigo blue light. It
was on the opposite side of the bed but she couldn’t quite make out what it
was. <i>“-Tell you I set you apart -“</i>Abbey
grabbed the phone and lifted it up on an angle using it like a flashlight. The soft blue light illuminated the far side
of the bed and along the base of the wall. Abbey’s breathing quickened as her
heart raced and she fought the feeling of fainting as she lay still, staring at
a pair of bare feet, then the call stopped and the song ended and the room was
dark once again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Abbey was almost hyperventilating; her
scream came out with each word like its own sentence “What-do- you- want?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The reply came in the form of another phone
call, the same ring tone as before, as the song played Abbey lifted the phone
up in front of her but kept facing the floor. The blue light cutting into the
darkness and with it the very thing she was too afraid to look for. Her head felt like it had a weight attached to
it and it took all her strength to tilt it backwards. The bed frame first, then a corner of the
down comforter that draped over the mattress came into view; finally there was
nothing left between them. Her eyes saw
all the familiar- safe things but in her mind she also saw the feet on the
other side of the bed, those horrible ghostly feet. Her nose was dripping and tears were
streaming over her cheeks, she didn’t want to look, the third line was playing
now, only one more before the phone would shut off Abbey thought to
herself. She wasn’t prepared for what
happened next, what she saw, it couldn’t be.
Abbey was looking at herself standing across the bed dressed in a 19<sup>th</sup>
century bed robe, torn and dirty, her hair was shorn to bearded stubble. Shaking she dropped the phone as she rose to
standing preparing to run. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“LOOK BEHIND YOU!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">It felt like someone was shouting right
next to her, Abbey cupped her hands over her ears and pulled back tripping on
the rug coming down hard on her left elbow.
A loud crack told Abbey that it was broken long before the pain coursed
through her body. The snapping sound was
different. It was more like tearing
sound. Not that Abbey was a Doctor, or
had first-hand experience with a lot of trauma but it was no sound she had ever
experienced. There was too much
happening, the pain blinding and pushing away everything else. Just before she blacked out Abbey saw the
hole in the floor. She had stumbled on
the rug and somehow uncovered a secret compartment in the floor exposing a
stack of letters and pictures. The
drapes burst open and the room was suddenly filled with the brightness of mid
day making her squint, the last thing she saw before she passed out was of the
apparition disappearing through the window. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-5487815387352435522012-09-12T20:18:00.000-07:002012-09-12T20:18:06.844-07:00A Kind of Homecoming - Chapter 3<h1 align="center" style="margin: 24pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #365f91;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">3<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></h1>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Behind closed eyes Abbey could sense a flickering light and a quick procession of thoughts cascaded over her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I should get to bed, geeze I didn’t realize I fell asleep with the TV still on, I wonder what time it is?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The drug of sleep was set deep and the act of doing anything was a struggle, especially considering the late hour and the fact the sofa provided a cocoon like nest that was both comfortable and comforting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If only the TV was off she thought, there would be no reason to push out of the blissful slumber.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the flickering light was nagging and relentless and soon it was an overpowering and a controlling thought that had to be dealt with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The muscles in her face reacted and a slit of light came into view.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As gradual as warming water the slit increased letting in more light, and the haze of her surroundings expanded and came into focus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something was different, something about the quality of the light didn’t feel right, and the usual brightness from the static after the final hour of the broadcast day was usually softer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was also inconsistent with the video tape of the fire log playing in its eternal loop, and yet the artificial fire that had soothed her into slumber only hours ago still danced and cascaded light over the floor and walls of the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>FIRE! The suddenness of the recognition bolted Abbey upright and out of the passive comfort of restfulness that she so desired and needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That recognition evaporated like summer heat off a stretch of highway, replaced by wonder and fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The large 52” display that Francis had purchased was gone, along with the entertainment center that stood sentinel on either side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her eyes widened unnaturally to the scene that lay before her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In place of the flat utilitarian shelves that were lined with DVD’s and CD’s was an ornately carved Oak bookcase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It ran the length of the wall, from floor to ceiling filled with hundreds of books, ledgers and pencil sketches in small wooden frames.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the center was a massive brick and stone fireplace with a timber mantle and a hearth that extended 2 feet into the room with a fire burning softly within.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey stood with mouth ajar, staring into the fire letting her eyes retrace the unnatural wall and its holdings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She forced herself to look around the living room and beyond, catching all the changes, some subtle, some not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hardwood floors beneath her feet, plaster walls with smaller hand tempered glass windows, no lights in the ceiling, no switches, no thermostat, no microwave, or appliances, gone, it was all gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outside the night seemed to have swallowed all light including the street lamp that had stood as a beacon and usually filled the room as a constant reminder of its presence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A loud clang and a spray of water shot across the floor making the fire spit as drops from the fallen vase hit the flames.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A small round table lay on its side at Abbey’s feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What the hell - where did that come from?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey turned and found that the sofa she had been asleep on moments ago was now gone, replaced with a hard looking wingback chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things began to change faster but always away from sight, to the left, right and behind her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey began spinning in circles trying to keep up; feeling dizzy she stretched out her hand to hold herself upright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A loud bang and a rumble carried a vibration along the floor to her from somewhere down the bedroom hall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From deep in the shadow a pair of red eyes was staring back at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey could hear herself screaming but it sounded far away, like it was coming from down the hall with the thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She lifted a candle from the mantle and held it with an outstretched arm, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">willing</i> the light to go farther into the black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A shuffling sound started and they eyes moved, whatever it was, was coming to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey could feel her pulse quicken and her breathing became shallow but couldn’t move, fear had gripped her as solid as stone where she stood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it moved closer, faint images began to take shape as it touched the light from the candle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbeys arm began to shake, the light bouncing across the wall, trying to pull back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Who’s there? What do you want, why is this happening?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey began to cry and had to reach out with her other hand to keep the candle steady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shuffling stopped, the shape of the person, thing, was just outside of sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please, please, don’t hurt me, I don’t want to die!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing happened for what seemed like an eternity, her tears splash<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">ed on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A thick watery voice called out, “Aaaabbeeeey!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Abbey shrieked and dropped the candle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Aaabbeey, look behind you! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Shaking her head, her eyes cast down to the floor, paralyzed with fear, tears were now streaming down her cheeks, and she could feel a hot breath on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and could only wait for something to happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The breath grew in strength becoming a constant breeze, then a strong wind buffeting and pushing into Abbey making her feel like she would fall over any second then nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She stood in darkness, afraid to look, until a light music could be heard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The music slowly got louder and louder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the familiar ceiling of her bedroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The clock radio playing was on and playing a piece by Chopin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-29798622767671659522012-09-09T21:10:00.000-07:002012-09-09T21:10:32.183-07:00A Kind of Home Coming - Chapter 2<h2 align="center" style="margin: 10pt 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">2<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The sun was shining in Albert’s bloodshot eyes as he sat in a small booth at the window of the Highway 5 truck stop diner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was finishing his 4<sup>th</sup> coffee of the morning, milk with no sugar when Sandy Jensen brought the pot over to Albert and refilled his cup. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Are you sure I can’t get you something honey? Jack makes a great breakfast; eggs, bacon, hash-browns and toast.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, I’m good.” croaked Albert as he continued to stare out the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was squinting, trying to avoid eye contact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His eyes were black from lack of sleep and his cheeks left tell-tale signs from his tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sandy reasoned it could be from the late night; after all she had started her shift with Albert sitting in the same spot over 7 hours ago. After 12 years of working at the diner she was pretty sure there was something else though, something much bigger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“All right then dear, you just call if you change your mind.” putting on her best easy-as-you-go smile almost gliding over to the table of regular truckers behind him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The men were all joking together, a bouquet of cigarettes and gasoline followed them and clouded over Albert’s head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The solid thump of age old ceramic mugs hit the laminate table and filled the diner as each man took turns up righting them from their place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Albert pulled his hands up to his face and began to sob as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’ll be home for Christmas</i> came on the radio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half way through he lifted his head and wiped his face with a napkin from the dispenser.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He started pulling items out of each pocket and laid them out in front of him, lining each item up as if he were taking inventory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two pens, one wallet, one cell phone, keys, some loose change, and a ticket stub from the movies he and Loretta had gone to the night before with the kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He picked up his wallet and started pulling the various cards out along with a small amount of cash, laying each item out like a game of solitaire across the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Albert eyed over the objects, rearranged a few of them, smiled and sipped his coffee as he stood to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was out of the door before anyone noticed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The black and tan Hummer roared to life and was already making a left hand turn onto the highway when Sandy came back to the table and spotted the curious display.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She started to run towards the door but was caught between the realization it was too late and the curiosity of the exhibit left behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be the center of great conversation for weeks to come at the Diner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two items that Albert didn’t leave behind were the school pictures of his kids and a case of beer he had purchased the night before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sat them neatly arranged on the passenger seat in the same mechanical fashion as he left everything else on the table, equally spaced, and straight rows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The roads were clear and it was actually warm for December but the roomy interior retained a cave like cold and Albert instinctively turned on the heater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reached up and cranked up the radio to hear ACDC Highway to Hell and punched down on the accelerator. The SUV responded easily, 100, 120, then, 140 kilometers per hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Drives like a dream!” he shouted over the music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reached over and grabbed a beer taking both hands off the wheel to twist the cap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Albert guzzled the drink and pressed down a little more with his right foot, throwing the empty bottle behind him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Think I’ll have me another,” he said in his best Jimmy Durante voice popping the cap off a fresh bottle and pressing it to his lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sipped a bit slower this time but was still finished before Angus Young gargled his signature “yeaahh” at the end of the song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the Hummer cruised along a loud rumble reverberated against the dashboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The quick consumption of alcohol had awoken his senses reminding him of his lack of sleep and food starved body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just past the Avery gas plant a CN Rail train with over 120 cars was also speeding along as it crossed over one of the many intersections en route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Engineer Ted Jacobs was behind schedule on his way north due to a grass fire just out of the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was trying to make up time and decided to use the air horn in lieu of slowing down through some of the smaller communities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tracks meandered along the country side crossing over from west to east over the rural roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At some spots you were so close you felt like you could touch the train from the window or your car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In other places it was hidden behind groves of trees or some far section of farm field.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tracks crossed over the same road Albert was now racing down, just as it came into the small township where he grew up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Grabbing another beer he took his hands away to hold the bottle and twist the cap making the hummer swerve radically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bottle fell to the floor and began spraying foam over his feet as he grabbed the wheel and brought the Hummer back under control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still travelling at about 145 kilometers per hour Albert quickly dropped his head and searched the floor with his free hand while Matthew Good was shouting at the world on the radio.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As the mammoth train stretched out into a clearing after several acres of trees, Ted Jacobs noticed a light cloud of dust lifting into the air directly behind a very fast moving vehicle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t uncommon for people to race the train over a crossing but Ted didn’t think this guy was racing him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gut instinct told him this wasn’t going to be pretty and he began an emergency braking procedure to slow his train down but there wasn’t enough time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Albert finally looked up with only 3 seconds between him and the wall of metal in front of him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-34544203048089201742012-09-08T08:02:00.001-07:002012-09-08T08:05:42.158-07:00A Kind of Home Coming - Chapter 1<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With weary eye an apparition form takes place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Slinks and folds in my disembodied soul, in shadows deep<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Reveals itself in the blind and wickedness of our own closed hearts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are the ones, our own to fear to loath in concentric self.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Abbey Parker shuffled up the steps to face the wreath covering the mahogany door, closed her eyes and sighed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Snow spiraled upwards in a sudden gust and settled down into the folds of her wool scarf making her shiver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She coughed harshly fumbling through her purse for the keys cursing as she did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three days before Christmas and she still had no tree, no lights and no spirit; save a sprig of holly on the outdoor light and the wreath on the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been a long and busy month at the law office and the house stood empty in darkness with an uninviting air. Christmas was supposed to be a happy time of year but in this week alone she had prepared 3 divorce proceedings and had to begin the estate settlement for one Albert Brude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Albert passed away shortly after his office Christmas party by running the Hummer he was driving into the side of a freight train.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is survived by his wife Loretta and 2 daughters, Katie and Jennifer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Katie and Jennifer will be spared the knowledge that his death was related to the upcoming arrival of their little brother who will meet the world in the delivery room of the Grace Hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing would ever be mentioned that the father is actually Albert’s brother Jacob. “God bless us everyone,” choked Abbey as she turned the key and entered the dark hallway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The house was an ice box and inside a skiff of frost covered the tiles in the foyer forcing her to concentrate on her footing as she thumbed the wall for the light switch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why is it so god damn cold in here?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was of course no answer, nor did she expect one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Francis (her boyfriend) had left on a business trip to Italy earlier in the week and wasn’t expected to return until the first week in January.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trip came unexpectedly on the heels of an early morning phone call in which Francis felt compelled to have in the downstairs bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A text message from the Airport was the only notice she received as she sat with a client the previous afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A barely audible click interrupted the silence and with it the soft glow of the concealed lighting that dotted the ceiling came to life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lights normally provided a kind of pseudo warmth to the house but not tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the yellow light Abby could make out the condensed vapor of each exhale and a carpet of frost that covered the laminate floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She carefully placed the laptop on the edge of the stairs and made her way up to check the thermostat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The soft green backlight came to life with a single touch reporting the temperature of the room to be minus 15 degrees Celsius.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked at the timer and groaned as she realized what had happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In her hurry to leave she had actually set the vacation mode that morning instead of having it turn on at 4pm to counter the plummeting evening temperatures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She tapped the pad in several places and after a ten second pause heard the furnace element ignite, another slight pause, a click then the comforting sound of warm air being pushed throughout the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey leaned against the wall and swallowed hard sparking a coughing fit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The overload of work, the holidays, Francis; it was too much, she was tired in her heart and didn’t want to try anymore, didn’t want to be strong or patient or understanding of everyone else’s problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The floor would have to be mopped after the frost melted but she just didn’t care and headed for the wine cooler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After pouring a large glass of Chardonnay she lifted it towards the ceiling in a toast to the quiet house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Taking the scenic route through the kitchen Abbey pulled out a box of Chinese leftovers from the fridge and closed the box inside the microwave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sipped from the glass while she waited and took a package of contact C from the side cupboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The foil back ripped open like sheet of tissue paper and the pill bounced onto the floor and under the stove. “Fuck me! Screw it!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears welled in her deep brown eyes and threatened to break over like a dam but she pushed back the urge and moved toward the couch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was still a couple hours work to do before she could rest for the night and feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to help.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She picked up the laptop from off the stairs and set it on the coffee table next to her dinner deciding to refill in her glass before settling down on the sofa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey looked out the window at the falling snow while the computer booted up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Minutes later the harsh light filled the room and strained her eyes making her squint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey grabbed the remote and turned on the television to fill the void with something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The silence in the empty house was oppressive and she just needed something, ending up on the odd station that plays carols while a looped tape of log burns in a fireplace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two hours later she placed the laptop back on the table, saved the file she had been working on and closed the program leaving the screen saver visible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a picture from the original movie with Alister Sim in “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Christmas Carol”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Laying back against the soft cushions she stared at the picture for a while and contemplated the overwhelming feelings of similarity between her situations to that of Scrooge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that she was ill tempered towards everyone but the empty house certainly spoke volumes of her lack of interest in the season and it seemed she would be working as many hours as Bob Marley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Abbey laughed in spite of herself and mumbled to the din, “Alone in a cold dark house, that’s us Scrooge.” She imagined the Christmases of her youth, filled with Aunts, Uncles and assorted friends and strangers and a brightly lit tree with presents spilling out into the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could almost smell the hot apple cider simmering on the stove, a Turkey in the oven with all the trimmings set out on the table and Bing Crosby singing in the background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, the room quite now except for the crackle of the burning logs now on its 27<sup>th</sup> loop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Outside the storm intensified, the wind shooting the new fallen snow like knives, harpooning the trees and buildings and the terrified souls that were forced out into the blackness and cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Snow hit the window in waves like sand before the tide, catching, sticking looking in at the warmth, almost mocking it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The screen saver of the Morley family having Christmas dinner remained, unblinking in the shadowed room, Scrooge and the ghost of Christmas present looking on as they stand in the background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone laughing and joking together, raising their glass in an eternal toast to Mr. Scrooge and as Abbey drifted off into a dreamless sleep and as her breathing slowed the snow still tapping on the glass something in the picture had changed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smiles had eased on the kids’ faces and a look of concern had now spread over Bob as he sat at the end of the table. Martha was now turned in her seat looking out towards the computer screen peering into the room where Abbey now lay.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-18720171380438663082012-07-17T20:33:00.000-07:002012-07-17T20:33:10.260-07:00What's Andrew eating Volume 1 episode 8<br />
<h2>
<span lang="EN-US">Labor of Love</span></h2>
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<span lang="EN-US">“Malcolm.” (pause) “Malcolm.” (pause) “MALCOLM!”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Malcolm opened his eyes slowly, the light
was unnaturally bright, everything was overexposed, and so cold that he felt
stiff. Standing up unsteadily he had to
reach out for support as if his legs had never been used before.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"> “What is going on?” He called out with a strained voice, but
there was no answer. Something outside
the light moving around in front of him but he couldn’t tell who or what they
were. Laughter and crying at the same
time echoed down the corridor. He stood
waiting for something to happen, someone to help him but the lights faded and
everything was black.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Malcolm opened his eyes as a warm breeze
was blowing the curtains through the open window. It felt good. He was alone in an empty hallway, a
wheelchair sitting beside his bed. He
could see a vending machine at the end of the hall that had an aquarium
face. Hundreds of florescent fish
glowing in the black light tank hovered in front of the words Coca Cola. The lights down the hallway began to flicker
and one by one they began to go out starting over the Pop machine and raced
towards where Malcolm was laying. He
called out again but there was no answer so he sat up and jumped off the bed. Pain erupted flooding his body with pain as
he crashed hard onto the floor. Something
broke but the pain subsided and he was left with only the warmth that made him
think he was sitting in a bath. He
reached down and felt the pool of warm liquid and knew instinctively what it
would be. He lifted his hand up and a
reddish liquid was dripping from his fingers, “ah crap!” Wondering what course
of action to take he sat quietly and closed his eyes. A familiar smell filled the hall, not an
unpleasant smell, more sweet and food like.
Malcolm opened his eyes slowly and looked at the landscape of tins, partially
frozen fruit juice containers all over the floor, some open some closed. He pulled himself onto the wheelchair and
caught his breath. Pushing his way
through the sea of containers, orange, cherry and grape bullets of ice exploded
in all directions, a rainbow mosaic left on the floor behind him as a
reminder. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Wheeling around the corner a large set of
double doors blocked any further advance.
They were the kind with spring hinges to allow people to pass through
without using their hands. A sink just
outside the room normally used for scrubbing up before an operation was full of
dirty dishes. William the Border collie
was standing up at the sink holding a dish rag and smoking a cigarette. He looked around at Malcolm and nodded
towards the door who then stood up from the chair and walked through the doors.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The room was full of people sitting at
candlelit tables chatting about who did this and I did falling silent when
Malcolm entered. There was a crowd of
Doctors standing in a circle in the center of the room, a circle of lights
overhead. Two of the Doctors turned and
motioned for him to come closer. “Ah
Malcolm, your just in time.” They said in unison and stepped to either
side. Inside the circle was an operat<a href="" name="_GoBack"></a>ing table where Sarah was laying dressed in a hospital gown with
her knees up and legs wide open. Pregnant and ready to give birth at any second
she was faced and sweating but beautiful.
She also smelled vaguely of ahi pepper.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">“Are you ready Sarah, here it comes!”
announce the doctor with the pencil thin moustache. He was dressed in a tuxedo with oven mitts on
his hands. “It’s a fish! Then right after, Braised Lamb, dish after dish was whisked
from under Sarah’s gown and they were handing them to Malcolm. He wasn’t sure at first what to do at first
but the crowd began to clap and he realized he had to deliver to the waiting
people at the candlelit tables.</span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US">Sautéed
Queen Charlotte Halibut with Aji pepper and linguini with Hedgehog mushrooms in
a Vermouth cream sauce<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcOFaYeuByUYNdTBGnG5y07E06RWEiBEj8Xnfzo8etqL437SUxr85fIZkaf1DBKdfLRSm1Wqto6SKQXicqNYOO3r2_BEzNNO9K957hZ0rfJc5ks-NqTOyLZWK4YUqIz-krEJ5nGrq_Dk/s1600/saut%C3%A9ed+Queen+Charlotte+Halibut+with+Aji+pepper+and+linguini+with+Hedgehog+mushrooms+in+a+Vermouth+cream+sauce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUcOFaYeuByUYNdTBGnG5y07E06RWEiBEj8Xnfzo8etqL437SUxr85fIZkaf1DBKdfLRSm1Wqto6SKQXicqNYOO3r2_BEzNNO9K957hZ0rfJc5ks-NqTOyLZWK4YUqIz-krEJ5nGrq_Dk/s200/saut%C3%A9ed+Queen+Charlotte+Halibut+with+Aji+pepper+and+linguini+with+Hedgehog+mushrooms+in+a+Vermouth+cream+sauce.jpg" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDAmDKyhh5IB7967QViwTsZZwdXQ-XH-t0ETC9ryzXoqge42D0y-Fy3V-n5Yso52RGIyTBxQTOgpw6VmdcP1OJ0wvAFlN59YPbcZG_JBpvGCligKfYtgeUmEV3ZDJMkIF10oEC8H-2ek/s1600/Sumac+rubbed+pork+chops+with+roasted+red+peppers+stuffed+with+grape+tomatoes,+garlic+and+anchovies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDAmDKyhh5IB7967QViwTsZZwdXQ-XH-t0ETC9ryzXoqge42D0y-Fy3V-n5Yso52RGIyTBxQTOgpw6VmdcP1OJ0wvAFlN59YPbcZG_JBpvGCligKfYtgeUmEV3ZDJMkIF10oEC8H-2ek/s200/Sumac+rubbed+pork+chops+with+roasted+red+peppers+stuffed+with+grape+tomatoes,+garlic+and+anchovies.jpg" width="200" /></a><i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US">Sumac rubbed pork chops with roasted red peppers stuffed with grape tomatoes, garlic and anchovies</span></i></div>
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<i style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span lang="EN-US">Delicious is pan seared porcini and New Mexico</span></i>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1UAkzpmPn6lQbAC8v8gL2Q7m237QuHWls0IkkjhdyV_E9hMoRtbf3qVIWaJV7ff9d4ro62ob_Y7RWT8nf18Fr-74QfzmwpM2RBgvVM8UPrM71oEo11dso84fte_9qZbZYyVySU9BfWoM/s1600/Delicious+is+pan+seared+porcini+and+New+Mexico.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1UAkzpmPn6lQbAC8v8gL2Q7m237QuHWls0IkkjhdyV_E9hMoRtbf3qVIWaJV7ff9d4ro62ob_Y7RWT8nf18Fr-74QfzmwpM2RBgvVM8UPrM71oEo11dso84fte_9qZbZYyVySU9BfWoM/s200/Delicious+is+pan+seared+porcini+and+New+Mexico.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovQ0Jpr78lx54HCe8wvKjl1_syPa-lWN-P5u-IYwW7OoPCgrA_xw85sHucaBeviFNAK025zV9tSagxUEJQIvIEhL-cyGMOJGTMkZvJlvLYJ-LaBnWU7975vXB1iWJ-DqFhP2kE3VdcmU/s1600/Braised+moose+with+saut%C3%A9ed+shredded+truffled+Brussel's+Sprouts+and+Dijon+and+creme+fraiche+roasted+potatoes+accompanied+with+oven+roasted+grape+tomatoes+for+Boxing+Day+dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjovQ0Jpr78lx54HCe8wvKjl1_syPa-lWN-P5u-IYwW7OoPCgrA_xw85sHucaBeviFNAK025zV9tSagxUEJQIvIEhL-cyGMOJGTMkZvJlvLYJ-LaBnWU7975vXB1iWJ-DqFhP2kE3VdcmU/s200/Braised+moose+with+saut%C3%A9ed+shredded+truffled+Brussel's+Sprouts+and+Dijon+and+creme+fraiche+roasted+potatoes+accompanied+with+oven+roasted+grape+tomatoes+for+Boxing+Day+dinner.jpg" width="200" /></a><i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US">Fennel brined duck breast on celeriac and potato purée with Garnacha reduction</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZdp7itSOF_KOrF8HmdEwD087Pgc7cln1OLAiGNqQc7rWxs458lX3jvgUivc-tSBF8fJ27J-uDuht913vfh7_wxEZaPlYQsOSPUAvnTjTInSfbvSBsf4ACwTqsPYh5SJHTa2ebn3EpK_k/s1600/Fennel+brined+duck+breast+on+celeriac+and+potato+pur%C3%A9e+with+Garnacha+reduction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZdp7itSOF_KOrF8HmdEwD087Pgc7cln1OLAiGNqQc7rWxs458lX3jvgUivc-tSBF8fJ27J-uDuht913vfh7_wxEZaPlYQsOSPUAvnTjTInSfbvSBsf4ACwTqsPYh5SJHTa2ebn3EpK_k/s200/Fennel+brined+duck+breast+on+celeriac+and+potato+pur%C3%A9e+with+Garnacha+reduction.jpg" width="200" /></a><i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US">Braised moose with sautéed shredded truffled Brussel's Sprouts and Dijon and crème fraiche roasted potatoes accompanied with oven roasted grape tomatoes</span></i></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> </span><i style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Wild BC Spot Prawns!</i>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoW4txc-WlgFf0vvGNH-R4x-7dyLENurqnx0XW3mdjn4VxtYgJQw2m3AOE20T-YchHeefQC0lDX49VteAwQ707aSliVqJbwJPNfk1vIW81BEa8UabLDT1jJ88JtdFA18YqN7_B90YVgM/s1600/Wild+BC+Spot+Prawns!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoW4txc-WlgFf0vvGNH-R4x-7dyLENurqnx0XW3mdjn4VxtYgJQw2m3AOE20T-YchHeefQC0lDX49VteAwQ707aSliVqJbwJPNfk1vIW81BEa8UabLDT1jJ88JtdFA18YqN7_B90YVgM/s200/Wild+BC+Spot+Prawns!.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDJ9tXzSH8j4XdFJWisuyLAWMP-EA9oe0IgFIviDvUQuckMqpVs2Mel4Zr6nmVuHZApJrXQz-ovYGZLcrnVLoMGIksJTvichuYwAyEUXLLocAX36BeT_Q5hVtVJ7WZbkm_GaZIQsTVPo/s1600/Third+course+consists+of+porcini+dusted+Qualicum+Bay+scallops+with+Himalayan+sea+salt,+fennel+pollen+and+chile+threads+on+top+of+pappardelle+with+a+lemon+cream+sauce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDJ9tXzSH8j4XdFJWisuyLAWMP-EA9oe0IgFIviDvUQuckMqpVs2Mel4Zr6nmVuHZApJrXQz-ovYGZLcrnVLoMGIksJTvichuYwAyEUXLLocAX36BeT_Q5hVtVJ7WZbkm_GaZIQsTVPo/s200/Third+course+consists+of+porcini+dusted+Qualicum+Bay+scallops+with+Himalayan+sea+salt,+fennel+pollen+and+chile+threads+on+top+of+pappardelle+with+a+lemon+cream+sauce.jpg" width="200" /></a><i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US"> Third course consists of porcini dusted Qualicum Bay scallops with Himalayan sea salt, fennel pollen and chile threads on top of pappardelle with a lemon cream sauce</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">On and on it went, everyone was applauding
and whistling, it carried on for so long a ringing sound began to sing in
Malcolm’s ears. It started slowly and
built into a single long note. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. The lights went out and there was no sound.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The Doctor with the pencil thin moustache
closed his eyes, “That’s all we can do, call it 11:07.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-30354193003825113732012-07-14T22:13:00.000-07:002012-07-21T15:31:39.673-07:00What's Andrew Eating Volume 1 Episode 7<h2 style="margin: 10pt 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">The Camping Trip</span></span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The hot, humid days of summer had arrived to the small township of Oakville after what seemed to be a record setting spring of continuous rain and overcast skies. The one’s that had braved the soaring temperatures took what little refuge they could in the shelter of the weeds that now had to be pulled before they overtook the rows of lovingly planted vegetables and herbs. By noon most of those brave souls could take no more and withdrew into the relative safety of their air conditioned homes. Andrew was one of those ardent gardeners and one of the few that doggedly remained in the center of his small oasis pulling weeds with one hand and wiping sweat from his brow with the other. He was determined to finish no matter what and he was well on his way when the phone rang. Andrew removed his gloves as he walked towards the patio and reached over the glass pitcher of lemonade on the table. He curled his fingers around the handset lifting it up to his ear, “Hello?” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was Malcolm’s mom; “Yes, hello Andrew?” she began. She was speaking much too fast and almost out of breath. Andrew had an idea that something was wrong immediately.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">3 days earlier</span></span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Malcolm had convinced his parents during the final few weeks of school to let him borrow his mother’s car so that he could head up to Algonquin Park with Sarah for a few days. It would be after the Canada day long weekend, right after his Dad had left to the Airport so he played on the “Alone time” theme that he believed his mother needed. Harder to convince was Sarah’s parents but after some assurances regarding sleeping accommodations, they reluctantly agreed. They had all been together on the evening of the 1<sup>st</sup> and even though they had stayed up late watching the fireworks by the lake Malcolm was still determined that they were going to leave early the next day. Malcolm had spent the previous weekend organizing pots, sleeping bags, clothes, food, matches, first aid and on down the list packing and repacking into his backpack. The only thing missing was the tent, well at least one that would fold down to a decent size and weighed a bit less. Saturday afternoon he picked up Sarah and they spent the day at the Mountain Equipment Co-op or MEC as it was more affectionately known. They found a small 2 man tent shaped like a segment of watermelon. Of course no one actually asked about one tent or two but Malcolm understood how parents thought and brought the other tent with him when he came to pick up Sarah the next day. He also made sure it sat high on the pile supplies, obvious but not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too</i> obvious. Craig Johnson leaned in the open window and kissed Sarah on the temple, “Be good! He commanded looking up at Malcolm as he did and then casually scanned the back of the car. “Do you have everything?” He asked, sunscreen, rope for hanging your food, sleeping bags..?” He trailed off. That was when Malcolm noticed the look of concern lift from his face and he knew he had spotted the second tent. “Ah, good then, well we’ll let you get off then, you are a bit behind I think? Sarah’s mom leaned in and gave her a quick hug whispering something into Sarah’s ear and tucking something into the palm of her hand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">On the Road</span></span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes a little procrastination is a good thing, Algonquin Park being about a 3 1/2 hour drive from Oakville would have been more like a 4 or 5 hour drive with commuter traffic. Leaving late in the day meant that it was all the time they needed. “Four o’clock!” said Malcolm as he pulled up to the gate to check into the park. “Three Fifty seven,” corrected Sarah smiling as she reached into her wallet. “My mom gave us some money for the park fees.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> “Excellent!” exclaimed Malcolm wearing a huge grin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They were at the trail head 20 minutes later and into the wilderness. The canopy of Oaks and Maple cut the sunlight into a patchwork quilt across the trail in front of them. The carpet of deadfall softened their footsteps and a noticeable quiet pressed in around them than made you feel like you were underwater. They walked hand in hand until the trail narrowed then took turns leading. It didn’t take long to notice the weight of the packs, the extra heat they created and now capturing the beads of sweat trickling and pooling in the curves of their lower backs. After a long steady climb the path began to blend into the rest of the forest floor as the light softened. Sarah stopped dead at the crest and Malcolm walked straight into her nearly knocking her off her feet. When he saw the drop off the rocky cliff below he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Holy crap!” he breathed looking around and finding his footing. “I’m so sorry,” he began but stopped and stared off over her right shoulder. They were standing on a ridge where the trees quickly disappeared below them and ended at the edge of a crystal clear lake. Reds and oranges filled the westerning sky and a light fog was drifting around the edge of the water as the heat of the day fell off. Sarah followed his gaze and gasped, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We</i> are camping here no matter what.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once they were at the bottom of the hill they quickly dropped the packs on the ground and grabbed some snacks that Andrew had made for them. Granola clusters made with oats, nuts honey and dark cherries that was simply delicious. After the tent was set up, and the meal complete Malcolm was tying off the food cache in a neighboring tree when he heard a splash. He followed the sound, laughing to himself thinking Sarah had fallen in when he came across a boot, a sock then the other boot with the sock stuffed into it. He looked up and saw a trail of clothing that led to a gap in the bushes where a small white piece of clothing rested flag like at the end of a dead branch. Seconds later a second splash broke the silence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sarah slept restlessly on the top of the sleeping bag when she heard a click outside the tent. Then scraping sound on material. She leaned over and pushed Malcolm, “Wake up, wake up! There’s something out there with the food. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What-huh?” He mumbled then promptly fell back to sleep. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Pushing a little harder and leaning into Malcolm’s ear she whispered, “Wake up!” but with a bit more urgency. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There’s something out there</i>” she said again drawing out the words. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Malcolm was exhausted from the long day and tried comforting Sarah, "It's probably just a squirrel or something" and fell back to sleep in minutes but was awake once again by the sound of the sleeping bag rustling. "Sarah, please just relax I'm sure it is nothing to worry about." He closed his eyes again and rolled over trying to escape but he could feel Sarah staring at him. He flicked awake at the sound of her whimpering and bolted upright inside the small tent. The combination of late nights, walking with a heavy pack for hours in 30° heat was clearly the reason for his hasty reaction. He couldn't have been thinking reasonable as he </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri;">grabbed the flashlight and raced out of the tent into the moonlight.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri;"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri;">“Malcolm, what are you doing?” Sarah yelled. “It could be a bear!” </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There was no need for the flashlight, the moon provided all the light he needed to see that it was just a raccoon sitting on top of the food bag pulling smaller bags of food out and dropping them on the ground. Sarah didn’t need a flashlight to see Malcolm either. He was standing below the raccoon in nothing but his boxers lobbing small rocks and twigs up into the tree. He was a lousy shot and didn’t hit the animal once but it retreated all the same and disappeared into the forest. He smiled at Sarah, content with his accomplishment, oblivious.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day was just as hot as the last and started earlier as the moisture from the lake seemed to feed the humidity in the air 10 times over. After breakfast of some fruit and eggs in a bag they set out once more. The packs were still damp and cold from the afternoon before, Sarah let out a gasp as she lifted it up onto her shoulders. Malcolm screeched and lunged forward as if he was trying to out run his. About half way through the day they reached a point in the trail where you could either stay on the shorter loop or break off and travel a larger loop that brought you around the full length of the large lake and boggy marsh. A bridge that crossed the river acted as the intersection for the two loops. There was a single sign with grooves cut into it that looked as if it was created by a 5<sup>th</sup> grade woodshop class. The marker that said (you are here) could have been anywhere on the path. Malcolm wasn’t even sure which line was supposed to be the river and which one was supposed to be the trail. They both stared at it for several minutes when Malcolm blurted out, “The Bridge!” It came out like a statement but without a lot of the conviction. Bridges lead away, over the river and around, right? I’m pretty sure we need to stay on this side of the river he said at last. Who could argue with that logic? That is the trouble with logic, is sounds so…logical. Unfortunately you could also reason that there might be another bridge just before the parking lot where the Volkswagen was parked. Malcolm and Sarah were heading into the wilderness and it would be nightfall before they realized they would be spending and extra night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Four and a half hours in the wrong direction Malcolm!” Sarah cried. “And it has got to be what, 3 hours easy back to the second camp site on the first trail.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Four” muttered Malcolm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What was that?” asked Sarah. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Nothing, forget it. Come on, it was an easy mistake. ”Let’s just eat something and set up the tent. A good night’s sleep and we’ll move out early tomorrow morning.” The knowledge of the extra walking that had to be done weighed heavily on Sarah. It wasn’t so much the walk that worried her; it was the huge blister almost the full length of her heel. She winced as she pulled off her boot pressing her teeth together to stifle a cry. She didn’t want Malcolm to know and crawled into the tent to get the first aid cream. “I’m going to bed!” she said and disappeared inside. Malcolm looked up at the stars that were coming into view on the eastern horizon and wondered if it wouldn’t be better for him to sleep outside. He decided to just watch the sun set and let the night fill in the shadows before he slipped into the tent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sarah was up, dressed, packed and ready to go before Malcolm was even out of the tent. Her heel looked terrible and felt worse but she never said a word. Malcolm was ready to go without eating when Sarah pulled out a dish of berries she had collected that morning. “Thank you.” He said sheepishly. “I’m sorry about everything, and then his spirit lifted, “if we can keep up a good pace we can probably make it out tonight.” He smiled as he lifted the pack up onto his shoulders. Sarah smiled back but without the same faith and they set off. Sarah began to limp about half way back to the bridge and started slowing down. By the time they got the bridge it was already early afternoon and the pain was setting in. She pulled off the trail and sat at the edge of the river, “I have to rest for a bit” she said and slowly took off her boots. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea but she had to risk it. She dipped her feet into the cool water and began sobbing and explained everything to Malcolm. It was a relief at first to find out she wasn’t mad with him but he nearly passed out at the sight of her blister. Another hour passed and Sarah pulled her feet out of the water. Her heel looked more like it had been burned, the redness and raw skin stood in stark contrast against the pale white skin on top her foot. “Malcolm, can you hand me the first aid kit please?” She asked without looking up. Malcolm who had been staring at disbelief jumped at the sound of her voice as if he’d been kicked and quickly ran over to the pack. “There’s no way you can walk out with that.” He said. “We need to start thinking of an alternate plan. It’s probably another 3 hours regular walking to the next camp site, then another 3, maybe 4 to the car. I’ll set up the tent for you to stay here. I’m going to run back to the car and then call for help, maybe there is some coverage somewhere along the road. Worst case I’ll use the landline at the park office and get help from one of the rangers. Sarah began to argue but couldn’t even touch the wound with a towel to dry it. She agreed reluctantly and Malcolm cleared an area for the tent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Within 20 minutes he had set up a nice camp and a place for a fire. Malcolm took only the essentials, water, a couple granola bars then he was off. He leaned over and kissed Sarah, “I love you” he breathed. Sarah pulled back and stared at Malcolm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’m sorry, it just slipped out, I wasn’t thinking.” He said as he stood up quickly and turned to go in a single motion. He didn’t wait for any kind of answer instead he began running to ease the embarrassment, the rush of cool air felt good against his red cheeks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sarah sat and thought about what had just happened and watched Malcolm disappear around the corner. They had grown up together, shared ghost stories and slurpies, summer camp and snow forts. They hadn’t seen each other much in the first few years of high school but she always hoped. Sarah sat in the warmth of the sun, closed her eyes and smiled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Present day</span></span></span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLO0RtR1pEtuVJJKnqbo5HvJsefAmaJ459VXWHUwyPoHggbj8xOSYSOM7VODEByeD9u0-iO6Fan8oxD6ElJsIcHptpYNLfUn7coKKy7sCicEpYr-nvcV7ldyzCzboignS6Z2w6nJ83Rw/s1600/sushi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img $ca="true" border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLO0RtR1pEtuVJJKnqbo5HvJsefAmaJ459VXWHUwyPoHggbj8xOSYSOM7VODEByeD9u0-iO6Fan8oxD6ElJsIcHptpYNLfUn7coKKy7sCicEpYr-nvcV7ldyzCzboignS6Z2w6nJ83Rw/s200/sushi.jpg" width="200" /></a><shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><stroke joinstyle="miter"></stroke><formulas><f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></f><f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></f><f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></f><f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></f><f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></f></formulas><path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"></path><lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></lock></shapetype><shape id="Picture_x0020_1" o:spid="_x0000_s1027" style="height: 141.7pt; margin-left: 266.25pt; margin-top: 15.3pt; mso-height-percent: 0; mso-height-relative: page; mso-position-horizontal-relative: text; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: text; mso-position-vertical: absolute; mso-width-percent: 0; mso-width-relative: page; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 0; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 0; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 189.75pt; z-index: -251658240;" type="#_x0000_t75"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #4f81bd;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;"><imagedata o:title="" src="file:///C:\DOCUME~1\rbyiers\LOCALS~1\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"></imagedata><wrap type="tight"></wrap></span></span></span></shape><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Andrew got off the phone and packed some food into a cooler, just some sushi he had been experimenting with and rushed out to the car. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His unexpected friendship with Malcolm came with a surprise. He had his own circle of friends of course but somehow he had also been drawn into Malcolm’s which included his family which wasn’t a bad thing at all as far as he was concerned. He was sure that it was simple parental protection that spurred the first meeting but they had all bonded. Malcolm’s father was off on business and his mother was worried. It was reasonable to think they could just be late, a flat tire perhaps, or stopped for something to eat after taking longer to get off the trail but her intuition said differently. She had called Andrew just to be sure that Malcolm hadn’t simply stopped off to give him something, a fresh fish perhaps or wild berries for one of his recipes. It was the call from Sarah’s mom that got her on the phone to Andrew.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was well after midnight by the time Andrew and Rebecca McTavish passed through the gates of Algonquin Park. They met one of the park wardens and they drove together to the parking lot of the trail where Rebecca’s car sat silent and empty. “On the bright side, Mrs. McTavish,” began Constable Turner, who had been waiting by the car. “On the bright side, there is no sign of a struggle and the car is locked up tight with a number of personal belongings, meaning this is how they left it and by all accounts they are meaning to come back to it.” She wanted to shout at him, “So why aren’t they here then. Where the fuck are they?” but she simply nodded politely and quelled all the new possibilities and tragedies that were swirling around her head. “So what do we do?” she asked. The officer explained that the trail could be taken in two directions and that although it was a continuous loop it was attached to.. blah blah blah. Rebecca had tuned out and began walking towards the start of the trail. The moon was still providing an incredible amount of light so that even in these very early hours of morning you could see everything quite well. She was just about to ask when they were going to leave when a thumping could be heard. “Shhh, did anyone hear that?” It was a distance off but it was there, a constant thump thump, then it stopped. “Could be nothing mam, there are a lot of things out here that could be making that noise. Deer, Moose, even a chipmunk can sound like a large animal within the trees.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“That is no damn chipmunk” she snapped. “My son is out there with a beautiful young girl and I’m going in to find them!” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mom?” whispered a very tired voice behind her. Rebecca McTavish turned to see Malcolm standing there; pale, dirty where he had been sweating and began sobbing with relief until she realized he was alone. “Where is Sarah?” she asked. “She’s okay, sort of” began Malcolm and then he explained about getting lost and the blister. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As Malcolm was explaining, the park warden was making calls to various people including an EMTs. The officer had two quads on a trailer that he was pulling down and pulled out an extra helmet. The ambulance was there in 10 min and immediately got Malcolm in and began checking his vital signs and gave him an IV to replace all the fluids he had lost. He had asked to go back to get Sarah but the paramedic took one look at Malcolm’s face and shook her head. “We don’t need you passing out on the back of a quad” she said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In didn’t take long for them to find Sarah, she could see the lights coming through the trees long before the noise of the engines announced the arrival of safety. She was already up and packing the tent when the officer and paramedic arrived. After checking Sarah they loaded up the gear and turned the quads around. They were back to the parking lot in no time and they helped her into the ambulance. Malcolm began to sit up but was pushed back down again, “You rest!” commanded the paramedic and finished her checkup of Sarah.</span></div>
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<shape id="Picture_x0020_2" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" style="height: 212.85pt; margin-left: 181.5pt; margin-top: 123.75pt; mso-height-percent: 0; mso-height-relative: page; mso-position-horizontal-relative: text; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: text; mso-position-vertical: absolute; mso-width-percent: 0; mso-width-relative: page; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 0; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 0; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 285pt; z-index: -251657216;" type="#_x0000_t75"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><imagedata o:title="" src="file:///C:\DOCUME~1\rbyiers\LOCALS~1\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image002.jpg"></imagedata><wrap type="tight"></wrap></span></shape><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The sun created a sliver of light across the horizon when Andrew pulled out of the parking lot. Rebecca drove with Malcolm and Sarah leaning close to each other holding hands but with eyes closed. Sarah’s parents were waiting in the driveway when pulled in. Andrew stopped off and pulled the backpacks out for them. He was just about to leave when Rebecca stopped him. “Thank you so much Andrew, I don’t know if I could have managed myself. Please stay and have some breakfast with us, I think we’re all curious about how the camping trip went. Besides, I think you know this one. It was amazing</span><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> strawberry shortcake with Creme de Cassis that Rebecca had pulled of Andrews’ recipe blog. I knew I had to make this when I saw it she said. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLW-P5c2fdf_Yu8PuF5ahVA7kUYYNG6e7B_c1zFXI-L9YQawtw8hiZprSvJZE8cr-zfPkau3yAs1XAstwdQfeD8MhLzksgLGlXFjwYgyiVLM0YvAn4WmVhAqruk9XBQr1YtA93TbCWoMw/s1600/amazing+strawberry+shortcake+with+Creme+de+Cassis+for+breakfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img $ca="true" border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLW-P5c2fdf_Yu8PuF5ahVA7kUYYNG6e7B_c1zFXI-L9YQawtw8hiZprSvJZE8cr-zfPkau3yAs1XAstwdQfeD8MhLzksgLGlXFjwYgyiVLM0YvAn4WmVhAqruk9XBQr1YtA93TbCWoMw/s200/amazing+strawberry+shortcake+with+Creme+de+Cassis+for+breakfast.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Andrew made some espresso and they savored the moment together and listened to the tale of the somewhat abridged version of their camping trip.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-16922687069932697852012-06-27T20:43:00.000-07:002012-06-27T20:43:49.315-07:00What's Andrew eating Volume 1 Episode 6<br />
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<span class="Heading2Char"><span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;">Canada Day<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Fireworks exploded
overhead and a chorus of ooo’s and ahhh’s was sung out by the eager crowd. The
multi coloured lights and sparkles danced across the night sky and the
silhouette shimmered across the water of the harbour. Kids ran up and down the
beach with sparklers in hand carving out crimson and ochre letters into the
darkness, their happy screams in harmony with some of the rockets. In the
flashes of light you could see trails of smoke floating and weaving in and
around the crowd. The scent of spent gunpowder was strong but the dying char<span class="textexposedshow">coal embers kept the fragrant
memory of the evenings savory meals that were served to anxious mouths. Malcolm
could still taste the Piments d'Esplette rubbed pan seared Chilean Sea Bass
(sustainable!) with Iranian Saffron infused Jasmine rice and oven roasted
heirloom cherry tomatoes.<span class="apple-converted-space"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Sarah shifted closer to Malcolm as they sat on the old blue and red
checkered wool blanket. She leaned in and started to whisper something in French
when an explosive boom shattered the silence and made her scream impulsively.
Malcolm yelled and jumped up nearly banged heads as he did. They both laughed
as he massaged his ringing ear and fell onto his back. Sarah fell over top of
him, her hair falling over his face. They stayed that way for only a minute but
it was timeless.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">It was Andrew sitting down beside them and the hiss of carbon escaping
from the tin of coke that brought them back. “Ah, Malcolm, you are under there,
brilliant. So did I ever tell you about the time I took the train down to
Toronto when I was 10?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow">Malcolm and Sarah sat up together and turned
towards Andrew. “What do you mean, like a class trip or something” asked Sarah.
“No, by myself” declared Andrew straightening up in a gesture of pride and
pretended to straight a pretend tie. “My parents had no idea; it was a school
day that I just didn’t go to school on. I told them I had band practice after
school, you know, just in case I didn’t make it back in time. It was near the
end of the year so the teachers didn’t ask and my parents fortunately never
thought to question about a band practice. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow">“What did you do all day? Asked Malcolm.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow">“I actually went to the Science Center, it was
amazing. I practically ran through the entire place picking up anything that
would move. It was amazing, best day ever! They had a Chinese exhibit going on
and there was a huge singing bowl in the main gallery. It was filled with water
and I actually got it to work so well that the water was rippling and dancing
from the vibration. There was water spraying all over the floor and I guess I
got a bit carried away laughing…that was when the security guard started
walking towards me so I bailed and ran into the next hall.”</span><br />
<span class="textexposedshow">“I love it!” proclaimed Sarah, “I could never do
something like that.” I spent most of my weekends wasting time on the phone.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">“Talking about boys no doubt” laughed Andrew.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Or complaining about them.” came
a voice from behind them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Malcolm turned to find his friend Scott standing beside them and lifted
his hand up exposing his palm. Scott replied with a smack as he sat down cross
legged as a new burst of colour filled the sky. Mozart was being played and was
synced to add harmony to the visual display. It was a little American but no
one seemed to mind. It was a sign that the end was coming to an end. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">“I love this place” said Scott but I think my home is somewhere else.” It
was a bit of a shock to hear but they all understood what he meant and no words
were needed, friends and family together on a warm summer night, what could be
more perfect than that.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">“You know, I think that was around the same time I went to T.O. for some
Kiss tickets” said Malcolm. “My sister started out with me on the Go train
early in the morning but she got sick and asked if I’d be okay to go?”
Obviously I said yes, and made my way to Sam the Record Man but after waiting
in line for about an hour some guy came out and said they were out of tickets.
But that the Eaton’s Center had a bunch. I ran down Younge Street as fast as I
could and up the escalators to the sixth floor. I remember there being this
huge line up all the way around the wall but Graham and Jamie were standing by
a table holding tickets they already bought. I have to admit being a little naive
about the concept of how line ups worked. I asked them were to buy the tickets
and they laughed and pointed to the ticket counter. I just walked up going through
the end of the line and stood looking at the board, someone asked how many
tickets I wanted and that was it. I walked away in less than 10 min. The look
of shock on their faces was priceless. Of course it wasn’t until days later I
realized exactly what I did.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> Andre choked on his drink and
began coughing. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” he laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">“We’re a good pair buddy, couple of real boy scouts. Remind me to tell
you about the baseball tournament I was in last year.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">The music was getting louder and the fireworks more intense, boom,
phhsssst, crack, bang. One after the other exploding over the water and in a
heartbeat everything was black and quiet. Then spontaneous applause and the
usual rush of excitement as everyone got up and headed for their cars or
started walking home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="textexposedshow"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">“Assuming you’re not sick of my cooking what would you say to coming over
this weekend to try something new I’m working on? Asked Andrew. “You’re invited
too Scot if you like?” I have a bunch of people from my cooking class coming
over and we’re going to do a massive spread with all of our recipes.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-6863048275634026782012-06-21T22:05:00.002-07:002012-06-21T22:06:20.643-07:00What's Andrew eating Volume 1 episode 5<br />
<h2>
Last day of School</h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Malcolm was late, really late. He was still pulling clothes
out of his dresser and holding them up at arm’s length in front of himself.
“This is stupid!” he sighed and pulled out an old Cure T shirt that once belonged
to his older brother James. He was pulling it over his head as he ran down the
stairs, out the back door and jumped on his bike. He was already half way to
school when he realized he forgot his lunch on the counter. It was right beside
the cold toast he never ate for breakfast. “Just great” he muttered but kept
going all the same. The day went pretty
much the same way through to final class.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr. Oldman was already up at the board writing out the
problems to review for the next year. He wanted to prepare us for the <i>future</i> he said, emphasising the word as
he explained to his best friend Rob a couple days later. Mr. Oldman barely
noticed which was fine by Malcolm and kept right on going.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Second period started
with the realization he grabbed the wrong books and had to make his way through
half of the school to his locker and back. He was sweating and panting as he
ran into the room and tripped over Sarah Johnson and barely missing two other
girls as the books left his hands and flew across the room. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So glad you could join us.” remarked Mrs. Mahoney.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You can just leave the books at the door!” snorted Gary
Robinson that got everyone laughing. Malcolm was hard to embarrass normally but
he red faced now. Not because of what just happened but because he was now
pretty much on top of Sarah. He was mesmerized by the tight fitting outfit she
was wearing and couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He had never seen her this way before and never thought of her in any
other way other than a friend. Sarah and
Malcolm had been friends since grade 3 and lived a few doors down from each
other. Sarah had noticed Malcolm however
and from the way Malcolm was now looking at her she knew he had finally noticed
her too. It took Gary to break the silence with a protracted cough to get
things moving again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The jocks were all
busy organizing the football gear with the coach taking inventory in gym, so he
just tried reading a book on the bleachers but thoughts of Sarah kept creeping
in between the lines. He eventually gave up on the book and closed his eyes. He
ended up sleeping right through the lunch hour and had a noticeable burn on his
face as he made his way back into the school. It took nearly 5 minutes for his
eyes to adjust to the din of the hallway but the air conditioned coolness felt well.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rest of the day was a blur but mercifully short thanks
in no small part to Mr. Able the shop teacher. “Off you go lads, your free,
enjoy the summer!” Malcolm had no reason
to go back through the school; he could have just walked out the back door of
the shop. It was a beautiful day after all but an urge to see if Sarah was
still around gnawed at him. Her locker was on the other side of the school and
the last bell sounded as he was still walking. In a heartbeat there was a swarm
of people spilling out of every door in front and behind him. He almost felt
like he was in a strong river current heading downstream. Sarah’s locker was
empty and the door hung wide open. A foreign sense of loss shrouded the walk
home. William was of course waiting of him by the first set of doors closest to
the road. “Let’s take a walk boy” whispered Malcolm. They set off down Rebecca
and away towards the lake, unknowing that Sarah was would be waiting another 5
minutes at Malcolm’s closed locker that still had the pad lock in place. She
knew the combination and thought it would be okay to check considering it was
the last day of school. The locker was empty with the exception of a couple
pencils and a questionably healthy water bottle. She grabbed her pack and raced
down the stairs to where she knew Bill would be waiting but knew instantly she
was too late. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It would have been easy to just give up and head home but
the heart isn’t that easy to give up on. Sarah let fate carry her on the path
and she headed off down Rebecca in the same direction as Malcolm was travelling
but with a 15 minute head start. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sarah reached the park and scanned over the soccer playing
kids, the families at the pole mounted barbeques, and finally far across the field
to someone playing Frisbee with a black dog.
A broad smile lit up her face and she crossed the park as fast as she
could but as she got closer she could see him disappear around the far corner
of the fence by the lake and open the gate. She hesitated for a second breaking
her stride but kept going. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She stood at the archway to the opening of the yard and
peered in. It was beautiful; a small tiered garden rose up from the grass and
was already full of some of the earlier plants and many herbs. A grey plume of
smoke circled the yard like smoke rings but had a mesquite aroma. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was Andrew that noticed Sarah first. “Hello, come in,” he
said in such a warm inviting tone that she could not resist. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you know Malcolm?” questioned Andrew. William bounded up
to her and lifted her hand up so it was on top of his head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sarah? Hey, uh, what
are you, how are you here? Do you know Andrew?” asked Malcolm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Andrew laughed, “No Malcolm she doesn’t but
I would love to get to know her” and he reached out a hand to her and guided
her towards the patio. Are you hungry?” He questioned. “I’ve overdone it as
usual and there is a ton to eat! Please come in and sit and you can explain to
Malcolm why/ how you’re here because from where I’m sitting it is pretty
obvious.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Andrew served a <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Grilled
New Mexico pepper rubbed veal rack chops with grilled fingerling potatoes and
grape tomatoes</span> which was amazing.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOBtUji0H30q5Ai_sVnuba7cbu8lG-TU2VI3yzNCXAtNrhC_wk_gHy9FST354IZofxQQXgmR2Dzgz0j5WWioPwbPWXJCeqEPrfzd5u56zpTF-ob5NGKW9ZqVfE4AKC4EY62Rgcgd46xs/s1600/Grilled+New+Mexico+pepper+rubbed+veal+rack+chops+with+grilled+fingerling+potatoes+and+grape+tomatoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOBtUji0H30q5Ai_sVnuba7cbu8lG-TU2VI3yzNCXAtNrhC_wk_gHy9FST354IZofxQQXgmR2Dzgz0j5WWioPwbPWXJCeqEPrfzd5u56zpTF-ob5NGKW9ZqVfE4AKC4EY62Rgcgd46xs/s320/Grilled+New+Mexico+pepper+rubbed+veal+rack+chops+with+grilled+fingerling+potatoes+and+grape+tomatoes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sun was setting by the time dishes were done and it was
time to say goodnight. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-69799297646122788102012-06-16T10:49:00.000-07:002012-06-16T10:49:22.458-07:00What's Andrew eating Volume 1 episode 4<br />
<h2>
<u>Father’s Day<o:p></o:p></u></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Edwin MacTavish arrived early in his twenties from Aberdeen
Scotland. The promise of a new life, a new family and warm dry summers was all
it took for him to pack up his few meager belongings and set sail. In those
days the only real option was to travel the span of the Atlantic by ship. Edwin
loved being “on” the water and spent as much time as he could at the railing
watching the flotsam and jetsam. The thought of falling in on the other hand
terrified him beyond imagination. On the evening of the second night aboard the
sun had washed the western sky in a pallet of crimsons and golden hues of
yellow. It was magnificent and Edwin believed it was a promise of how his new
life was going to be. As Howard stood on
the deck that 14<sup>th</sup> day in June the fathers around him were being
hugged and kissed by their families in celebration of Father’s day. Howard of
course paid little more than curious attention as he was only a young man
himself and not even close to a relationship. That was when Rebecca Kelly raced
by carrying a large bag and wooden tripod over her shoulder that just narrowly
missed Edwin’s right ear. It was so close he could feel the swishing sound it
made, it sounded like a whisper and that whisper sounded like follow me. He did, right to the bow and watched as
Rebecca set up the tripod and then began to assemble a number of parts together
and finally place a camera on top. Edwin had only seen a camera once before and
never so close. He was mesmerized by it
but more to the point was taken by the beautiful girl that was doing the
assembling. Every time she bent over her long red wavy hair would fall and
cover her face and every time she stood up she would push it back over her
shoulder. She had a milky white complexion that captivated him. It took what
seemed forever for Edwin to build up the courage to speak to Rebecca but she
was patient. Rebecca it seems had noticed Edwin hours before standing along the
railing watching the waves. The camera equipment actually belonged to a friend
of the family she was travelling with. She was only too happy to let Rebecca
borrow it believing that she was actually interested in taking pictures and
learning the fledgling art of photography. </div>
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</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUghmjtTJ2oiww3ZHjbCVeMT-2Mn5voFxsYIaYekraMTUSzgAbkixjy6K6mxuI70Yq8wh5VKxg8xy0JXtSJEIv72kauPiX1TNg3G3R3CenWVgfU50S9V3B1KaXs1EPdZ1GOLQmWonq01w/s1600/Sipping+lattes+at+Cafe+Artigiano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUghmjtTJ2oiww3ZHjbCVeMT-2Mn5voFxsYIaYekraMTUSzgAbkixjy6K6mxuI70Yq8wh5VKxg8xy0JXtSJEIv72kauPiX1TNg3G3R3CenWVgfU50S9V3B1KaXs1EPdZ1GOLQmWonq01w/s200/Sipping+lattes+at+Cafe+Artigiano.jpg" width="200" /></a>It
is on this father’s day many years later as Malcolm was treating his father to
a Latte at Café Artigiano on the edge of Oakville’s downtown that he had heard the
story. It wasn’t the first time he had heard it but it was the first time he
had really listened and understood. And has they sipped they shared a Pineapple
Pana Cotta together watching the sun washing the horizon in similar shades of
crimson and hues of gold that Edwin had watched on the deck of the ship. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Happy Father’s day Dad. I love you” said Malcolm. </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiep3Eyd7_qoZNjm5p3pdNntf1rPqU0mnCFMzsCvMfYcSwgY3t8qhQ0QzVaAJKQpLgSZUAfqLbRVFE37J-vtReNOGWKYecpcLP9XBuE8UweH0iozI5LbBJnOQOtBzzMlk64x0M3rlRqoS4/s1600/Pineapple+panna+cotta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiep3Eyd7_qoZNjm5p3pdNntf1rPqU0mnCFMzsCvMfYcSwgY3t8qhQ0QzVaAJKQpLgSZUAfqLbRVFE37J-vtReNOGWKYecpcLP9XBuE8UweH0iozI5LbBJnOQOtBzzMlk64x0M3rlRqoS4/s200/Pineapple+panna+cotta.jpg" width="148" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-60443109873669851592012-06-11T21:57:00.000-07:002012-06-11T21:57:12.669-07:00What's Andrew Eating. Volume 1 Episode 3<br />
<h2>
Summer Storm</h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Summer was in full swing and nothing was moving.
There was not a breath of air, and even though it was only mid July the grass already
resembled a field of wheat ready to harvest. Malcolm was out with William who
led them both down to the waterfront, at the very least the coolness of the
water gave some kind of relief. Clear blue skies stretched across the horizon
as far as you could see, at least as far as you could see in that particular
direction. The harbour was jammed up with the Sail boats being used only for
those that had them to sleep on at night or the occasional party. But not right
now. Right now it was mid afternoon on a Saturday and all the sensible people
were tucked under a nice willow with a glass of lemonade or their own preferred
beverage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">William ran straight into the water and paddled back
and forth along the shore line for 55 minutes straight. Malcolm had abandoned
his sneakers and socks and waded in as far as he could without getting his
shorts wet. The maples that lined the lakeshore were all virgin growth and made
a formidable wall against the skyline to the north. So it was a complete
surprise to both Malcolm and William when a crack of thunder broke the silence
of the afternoon. It was such a loud and unexpected announcement of the arrival
of the first summer storm that Malcolm practically fell into the water. He did
actually fall in the water when William made a B line for him and tried jumping
into his arms. William didn’t like
thunder, or fireworks or anyone mimicking fireworks, or car horns and he didn’t
like the noise he just heard. Malcolm
was practically held under water by the weight of the collie and was
frantically trying to get his head above the water line. Another loud boom
followed by a flash of light high up in the clouds now looming over the line of
maples probably saved Malcolm. William thought the picnic table over in the
park was a much safer place and raced away. Coughing and spitting out clumps of
algae Malcolm oriented him and crawled to his feet out of the water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In an instant the wind picked up, as if someone
opened a door which was followed by consecutive flashes of light and thunder.
It was going to be a storm to remember but not one that you would really want
to be out in. Malcolm knew he needed shelter and immediately thought of Andrew’s
place. From the look on Williams face he would have sworn the dog was thinking
the same thing. He was sure of it when he darted out from under the table and
ran straight towards the house. Malcolm chased behind and just made it through
the back gate when the first drops of rain began to fall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Andrew had a beautiful covered patio and laughed at
the sight of Malcolm soaked to the skin. “How is it you are so wet and it is
only starting to rain?” William was
scratching madly at the patio door. Andrew reached over and slides the glass
panel. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“But he’s soaked, protested
Malcolm. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Just a little water, it will dry.” Replied Andrew
calmly. “Anyway, you’re just in time, I was experimenting this afternoon and it
seems I got a little carried away. Why don’t you grab a towel and dry yourself
and I’ll finish up here. Then we can sit and watch the rain. I love a good
storm, don’t you? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“They’re the best” said Malcolm as he disappeared into the
house.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Andrew called in and asked Malcolm to bring out a
couple plates with him along with the bottle of Shiraz that was sitting on the
counter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Malcolm set the table and Andrew served. “F</span><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">resh Buratta and
heirloom tomato salad with fresh basil and balsamic vinaigrette</span>” he announced.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigp94WhTXerHgSVJrKIr0wgFdTP3Feq_1SnlLL72rxE5yw-1ciyLmUJWupdeh37z5Gtq-EDfXo9MufAQyoXvskYUxWQjNu8D7K7cZVh-Tz2f256yKlDXb9g8D23NbrQ8pbK5pAToItSqI/s1600/Fresh+Buratta+and+heirloom+tomato+salad+with+fresh+basil+and+balsamic+vinaigrette.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigp94WhTXerHgSVJrKIr0wgFdTP3Feq_1SnlLL72rxE5yw-1ciyLmUJWupdeh37z5Gtq-EDfXo9MufAQyoXvskYUxWQjNu8D7K7cZVh-Tz2f256yKlDXb9g8D23NbrQ8pbK5pAToItSqI/s400/Fresh+Buratta+and+heirloom+tomato+salad+with+fresh+basil+and+balsamic+vinaigrette.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /><!--[endif]--></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They ate and Malcolm told Andrew all about the
afternoon and practically drowning. They laughed together and counted the lightning
and thunder strike listened to the rain and let the coolness of the fresh storm
air wash over them. Malcolm even tried a little wine; it was a perfect summer
day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-70851626952268826802012-06-09T21:29:00.003-07:002012-06-09T21:29:21.588-07:00What’s Andrew Eating? Volume 1 Episode 2<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"> </span></div>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-size: x-large;">Summer Love</span></u></div>
</span></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"> The summer that Malcolm took a job gardening was the summer that love came. Briefly but it was there and unmistakable. Bev lived </span><span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">west </span><span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">at the farthest side of the city and it was a challenge for them to see each other as Malcolm had just earned his licence. </span><span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18px;">Bev had yet to take her test and a</span><span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">lthough his father was a great romantic himself he was only able to help bi-weekly in the area of the vehicle lending department. </span><span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">This meant that Malcolm had to be creative and let sleep remain an elusive ghost of his past. But he was in captivated and so no obstacle was too great. </span><span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Eating also became something more of a hobby than an essential. </span><span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">After a particularly hard week of long hours and plus 30° temperatures even Malcolm was left wanting. He hadn’t seen Bev all week and was looking forward to the weekend so they could be together.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Friday afternoon cooled down slightly and was perfect for a bike ride down the lakeshore. Malcolm took his time and let the cool air wash over him and just soak in the summer smells. One smell in particular caught his attention as he rode past Andrew’s house. His stomach rumbled protesting the absence of a full lunch time meal thanks to the Nolan’s dog. Malcolm had an epiphany and made a wide rolling turn back up the driveway to Andrew’s house hoping that he would be willing to show him how to cook a romantic dinner for two. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Andrew was just finishing off an </span><b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Ahi pepper rubbed butterflied prawns on top of tagliatelle in a lemon mushroom cream sauce and spinach </span></b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">that he was more than happy to share.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Stylus BT","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Malcolm woke up early Saturday morning and bought all
the ingredients and even talked his parents into going out for the night. The
evening was fantastic, and he made the promise that he would do this for her
every weekend and he stared into her eyes and as he kissed her he secretly
hoped that his new friend Andrew didn’t move away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-42045074860099713412012-06-09T20:14:00.002-07:002012-06-09T20:14:22.278-07:00Love, life and wine<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Admittedly I’m a little drunk so that could explain the
nostalgic repose that I am feeling but I have to say that I’m also inspired. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To think, to imagine, to dream of oneself within oneself out
of time and space, are we created just too merely follow or is there more? An age
old question –yes? Is there a higher purpose or are we just waiting for the end
of our time. What a tragedy! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If we are here to love, and I’m speaking more than in the
simple architecture of civilization but to truly love, passion beyond
understanding. Love in the beauty of all things is not in our nature but
depending on whether you look at things from a selfish perspective or through
the eyes of wonder then even death can be/is beautiful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sun in itself is a destructive force, even by its own
nature it is destroying itself just to be. Can that not be said of us? We move
forward and grow, but we are also move slowly to death. So therefore to be
afraid of death is also to be afraid of life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What would you do if I said I love you? Wrapped my arms
around you from behind and whispered shadows of a love fulfilled that only your
ears could understand? Would all time and material things melt away into a mere
backdrop and only then, only that moment mattered? Would you say you love me
too? Out of nothing my heart exists only for you. If the ocean washes away an
imprint left in the sand does that mean it never existed? In that time, the
image lasts an eternity, as the image of you does for me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you never heard the words spoken softly from behind is it
the same thing as the imprint in the sand? To me it is a sad thing that the
ocean knows not of the image it captured the same as if love is never truly understood.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A story then, something out of time and yet eternal like the
words of love, just for you. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-11364898765583120302012-06-05T21:17:00.005-07:002012-06-06T21:18:10.140-07:00What's Andrew Eating? Episode 1<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;">Malcolm McTavish was
born of Scottish immigrants in the Lower Lakes region of the Canadian Shield. A
proud a spot as any for the son of Sheep Herder. Honest, hardworking folk that
ner had a bad word to say of anyone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;">Up early each day,
Malcolm would take William; the family Border collie out along the beach of
Lake Ontario and let him round up some of the geese that frequented the park
close to the house. He loved to hear them honk and watch them scuttle along in
front of William, who was weaving this way and that. The sun always felt warm
on Malcolm's face. Didn't matter if it was mid December as the temperature
dipped below freezing or during the humid lazy days of July. On days when there
was school, William would follow Malcolm and be there when school was out to
walk him home again. It was a grand life. Malcolm played hard with his friends
and even tried out for Shirling believing the shear danger of the sport would
win some affection from the girls. Unfortunately the game never really caught
on and was cancelled after the first game when the opposing team captain had to
be rushed to the hospital from snake venom in his eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;">After
school, chores were completed and then homework which usually kept Malcolm busy
until supper. It was a grand life and he treasured every minute of every
day...well to be honest except supper. Supper was always something filling,
never fulfilling. Malcolm loved his Mom, no question but he was tired of
tatties and mince. Malcolm longed for something just a little different.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;">Then
one day while he was down at the beach something strange happened. A warm
gentle breeze carried with it something Malcolm knew was going to change
everything. He knew the smell of backyard hamburgers and hotdogs no no no. this
was something different. A tingling overwhelmed Malcolm's olfactory senses and
he had to stop, head lifted in the air like his faithful companion William did
whenever there was a beached fish warming on the sand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;">This
was no regular fish, certainly no fish Malcolm had ever smelled before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;"> </span><img height="298" src="http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/533167_10150826557966174_279294719_n.jpg" width="400" /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">This was a Beer marinated pan seared Sable fish
with smashed new potatoes, oven roasted heirloom tomatoes and sautéed pea
shoots with double smoked bacon vinaigrette. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;">Malcolm was overcome. He had to find
where this new heaven was coming from. At the edge of the park, at the edge of
the paved pathway that led all the joggers and cyclists towards the down town
lived Andrew. It didn't take a long time for Malcolm to introduce himself to
Andrew. And although he never asked, (his parents brought him up never to ask)
he hoped - oh how he hoped that one day Andrew would invite him to stay. Until
then, he was quite happy just to know that something else existed out there.
And so he dedicated himself to taking up a diary and following Andrew's pilgrimage
to his great culinary manifesto. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;">He called it, “What’s
Andrew eating?” Malcolm’s world was changing.</span><span style="font-family: 'Stylus BT', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-58518926103144053382012-05-25T20:50:00.000-07:002012-05-25T20:50:50.502-07:00On Being Me.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: solid #4F81BD 1.0pt; border: none; margin-left: 46.8pt; margin-right: 46.8pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #4F81BD .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 4.0pt 0cm;">
<div class="MsoIntenseQuote" style="margin-bottom: 14.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 10.0pt;">
On being me.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Have you ever wondered how you got to the place you are?
Pretty soon you’re retracing the steps of your life, back through memories like
pages in a book, or a film I guess.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It could be as simple as being introduced to a new person
that eventually becomes a lifelong friend or mate (or both). It could be more
intricate, events that are woven deep into the fabric of life like exposing
your kids to art, music and stories. It is only through the passing of all the
everyday’s when suddenly you realize that they are now exposing music and art
and their own stories to you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have friends that can do things I can never do but their
passion only inspires me to be better. Friends that have come and gone, friends
that I can only see on vacations, friends that are friends no matter how much
time passes without anything and friendships that destructed from saying the
wrong things. I would like to say sorry for my part in those, I’m not always
gentle and occasionally have a hot tongue.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How did I get here, to the place or rather the person I am
now? Seems like a simple question compared with asking why am I here and yet the
answer is as elusive. I guess I’ll just keep doing what I do and see how the
story ends.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-55791801856260744582012-04-30T12:44:00.004-07:002012-05-25T20:52:31.728-07:00Calgary Expo with John Noble of Fringe and Lord of the RingsIt started out innocently enough, with a simple question. Would I like to be a Media Host for the <a href="http://www.calgaryexpo.com/" target="_blank">Calgary Comic and Entertainment Expo?</a> "Let me think about it", was my reply after digesting what this actually meant. Host a guest at the Expo, hmmm. So after a couple days of humming and hawing, I took a look at the guest sheet again. The entire cast of Star Trek TNG was already taken, which was okay. A little to big for a first timer anyway. Scrolling through the list the images of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0633604/" target="_blank">John Noble</a> and <a href="http://www.jasikanicole.com/" target="_blank">Jasika Nicole</a> from JJ Abram's show <a href="http://www.fringetelevision.com/" target="_blank">Fringe</a> came up. I was shocked and surprised that no one else had jumped at the chance. Are you kidding, John Noble, I can host John Noble? Believe it or not I said yes.<br />
This was my first time even going to the Expo, let alone participate in. My friend Scot Campbell actually had to talk me into it. Looking back after spending the weekend among such amazing people.. and I'm talking about the fans here and spending the entire weekend getting to know John and Jasika and their agent Holly I can't believe I almost said no. Both stars are so grounded and devoted to the fans they took time to speak and ask questions with everyone that came to see them. Their down to earth and informal demeanor relaxed any anxiety I had within seconds and it only got better from there. In short, two people that simply chose acting as a career. My son, Jesse just finished his first professional theatre acting in the Twelfth night in Toronto at <a href="http://www.snobbishtheatre.com/" target="_blank">Snobbish Theatre</a>. This weekend was a rare privlage and I can see why he wants to be on stage in Stratford.<br />
Thanks to everyone.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6668189177772250318.post-25180294928484612072012-04-04T21:11:00.000-07:002012-05-25T21:30:52.131-07:00Nothing good can come of this. (Chapter 1)<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
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<span lang="EN-US">1</span></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Kate was looking
for something in the bedroom. Sam could hear the occasional grunt and soft
curse, “I’ll be there in just a minute”, she shouted from down the hall towards
the living room.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“No Hurry” said Sam trying to sound casual
but he was pulling out his cell phone as he said it and began to text, gonna B
L8 he typed in and hit send and pocketed it again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Actually, I
needed to talk to you before we went out” said Sam.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Kate was hopping
down the hall trying to pull on a sandal on her other foot extended out behind
here. She had to reach out for the
corner of the wall on the last step to steady herself. The look on Sam’s face
wasn’t what she was expecting. Instant dread washed over her and she knew
immediately what he was going to say.
She stopped moving, and looked up to the corner of the room. “Already”
she thought to herself, but I thought it was good” The last 3 words moved from
thought to speech. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">All Sam heard
was “it was good” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Sam, who was actually busy pulling a ticket
stub out of his pocket didn’t see any of the body language coming from a girl
in love. A girl believing she was about to be rejected. When he did look up
Kate had turned away and was wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye.
“What?” he asked absently. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“I thought it was all good!” whispered
Kate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Oh, ah yeah, yes it is” said Sam quietly,
not really sure what he was agreeing to starting to feel uneasy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Is something the matter,” Sam asked?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“You tell me!” snapped Kate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“Huh, what? Wait.” I’m confused said Sam.
“I wanted to show you something,” he said as he held out the piece of paper.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Kate had no interest at what Sam was
holding, all Kate wanted to do was grab her coat and leave, saving at least
some dignity, but it was draped over the couch which was exactly where Sam was
standing. She had to walk toward him. As she got closer she looked at the
upturned hand and could see the ticket that lay across it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“What’s that she asked? Reaching for her
coat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">“This is what I wanted to talk to you
about” said Sam.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Kate had her coat in hand, and was heading
for the door, “come on, we’re going to be late!” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Sam made a weak protest but could see he
was in no position to argue and as he hesitated he the automatic door closing
mechanism was already following the footsteps Kate made as she rushed down the
hallway. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Sam stuffed the ticket into his pocket and
picked up his coat. He looked around the room. The floor to ceiling glass
panels along the south western side of their condo reminded Sam of a suite in
the Delta hotel in downtown Vancouver. Probably why he liked it, it always had
the illusion of being on holiday to some degree. This let the golden warm light
of early evening sunlight wash its way up the north wall which was the dining
area that was defined by a simple tan corduroy couch at the edge of the living
room. Last night’s dishes sat in the sink of the kitchen, although he couldn’t
actually see them he thought about it. The case that held the guitar lay across
the ottoman, open with the guitar resting peacefully inside once again. Turning
on his heel, the rest of the room had a shower door haze quality and it
wouldn’t be until he bent down to grab his coat that he would looked down and
realize his eyes had filled with tears. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">He wouldn’t be back here again. He had no
idea how he knew it but it was as real as anything he had ever felt. He pulled
out ticket once more and read the numbers out load to himself. Five, four, zero, one, four, he thought that
hearing them would somehow make them magically give them meaning. No such luck.
He grabbed his keys accidentally clipping he edge of the copper bowl. A soft
metallic ringing filled the empty space and held on long after Sam had locked
the door and met Kate at the elevator.</span></div>
</div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17425944428724805379noreply@blogger.com0