Total lubricant…
He was beginning to tire when a dark shadow came rushing down the hill —
and suddenly his mother was pouncing on him,
and they were rolling together,
and she was whining and nuzzling,
and he was mewing and burying himself in her wonderful fur,
snuffling up her beloved,
strong,
meaty mother smell…
Then she sicked up some food and he gulped it down,
while she gave him a thorough licking all over…
After that they leaned against each other and howled their happiness to the Up…
— in Ghost Hunter by Michelle Paver
I remember the first time,
someone said to me,
We are spiritual beings,
having a human experience…
As those sounds entered my ears,
making words,
I had to give my head a shake,
partially because,
surrounding the possible truth,
of what the person was saying,
was a creep factor,
that blew out the Richter scale,
but also because I’d never,
ever,
heard an idea like that,
before,
in this life…
But that was back in 2007,
and this is 2011,
and now I’m just that much older,
wiser,
and most importantly,
comprehensively,
experienced…
Everyone has,
their own preference,
when it comes to,
watching hockey…
And so they should…
Some people like to spend big money,
on a night at the Rog…
Some people like to kick back,
in their living rooms,
with mixed,
or same gender company,
some take-out,
and cold off-sales…
Others like to gather,
at the street corners,
of their communities,
reclining on deck chairs,
or parading,
in sports cars…
And others,
like me,
and Dave Pratt,
prefer,
to go it alone,
in the privacy,
of our own,
hockey temples…
Dave because he wants total control,
over his GD clicker,
and thinks women,
don’t know a thing about hockey,
except for,
he’s so cute,
and me,
because I prefer not,
to be asked to explain,
what I’m up to,
when the other team,
thinks,
they’re in the lead,
or a soldier’s down…
I’ll buy into the story,
that I’m a spiritual being,
having a human experience,
most of the time…
But as for,
the rest of those minutes,
on the time line,
which I cannot account for,
since Jan. 2009,
I’m currently charged,
as a human being,
having a spiritual experience,
in the locker room,
with my body,
as the notebook,
and a jersey,
as my lampshade…
Last weekend,
like every other weekend,
I insisted,
on a walk in the woods,
as a way to freshen up,
family atmosphere…
And to avoid,
an uphill battle,
I gave Starshine,
who offered to pay,
for parking,
with her babysitting money,
and Little Gem,
the choice of destination…
As we rounded,
Beaver Lake,
and wound our way back,
to the car,
we passed three young,
teenage,
boys…
A few steps further,
we stumbled upon,
a rain soaked,
wide open,
center-fold…
I tried to cover up,
by saying something,
about how someone,
must have dropped,
a flyer,
for Zeller’s,
but not before my girls,
spotted the double D’s,
and wondered,
for what purposes,
someone would allow,
someone else,
to take photos,
like that…
There are times when,
I want to shirk,
my parental responsibilities,
and suggest,
you ask your father,
but on this matter,
I sufficed it to say,
I have absolutely no idea…
When I was making sandwiches,
in Sydney,
back in 1989,
there was a repetitive cheer,
from the hostel boys,
at the pub,
to Get yur tits oot for the lads…
I can’t remember if,
I ever did or not,
but I know the idea,
was under serious consideration,
in the heat,
of a moment,
beside the Opera House fountain,
on New Year’s Eve,
just for the fun of it…
But that was WAY before,
the standardization,
of neuromancing,
and this day and age,
when if,
a thought even begins,
to cross one mind,
it spreads,
like wild fire..
And speaking of mental health,
as I was tossing,
circumstantial evidence,
into recycling,
where one trail,
runs into another,
Little Gem warned me,
Mama,
You’d better wash you hands,
because who ever that belongs to,
was having drugs,
at the same time…
When the clouds,
open up like they are,
this afternoon,
as a means,
of clearing the air,
the timing is perfect,
to scrub up,
and put oneself,
out on a line,
for when the sun comes out…
Because when it does,
my C cups,
and every other,
global member,
of Canucks’ Nation,
will be there,
ready,
and waiting,
to stand,
on guard,
And spring became the summer...
Treasure chest…
Even though Raffi trims under the neck,
which is cheating a bit,
I’m voting for him…
It’s the thickness of it and the colour…
The colour is the best part…
It’s nice…
Am I jealous???
I wouldn’t say that…
I’d say it’s respect…
— Tanner Glass on the awesomest playoff beard EVER:
as quoted in the Vancouver Sun…
The other evening,
Little Gem asked me,
Mama,
did you think you were ugly,
when you were a little girl???
I wondered,
momentarily,
what section,
of the ether,
she pulled,
that question,
out of,
and offered up,
the nearest answer,
by saying,
I remember when I was,
eight or nine years old,
and my mother’s best friend,
called me a little bitch…
I didn’t know what that meant,
at the time,
but I knew it wasn’t pretty…
The conversation,
which ensued,
between myself,
and my daughters,
after that reveal,
further instilled in me,
the concept of how,
the more,
we can let go of,
as adults,
the less our children,
have to carry…
I hear a lot of talk,
about the forty years,
of disappointment,
and missed opportunities,
around the Vancouver Canucks…
But seein’ as,
I wasn’t a serious fan,
way back then,
my bags aren’t packed,
with similar sentiments…
But if and when,
residual worry,
fogs my vision,
I take the time,
to really feel it,
and then watch it,
drift away…
Little Gem believes,
in herself,
as a practical,
mathematician…
And she takes pride,
in articulating,
her many,
problem solving,
strategies…
So much so,
she’s become,
one of the go to girls,
for many of her classmates…
The other afternoon,
as she proceeded through,
the list,
of previous callers,
searching for the correct,
phone number,
to see if her friend,
needed some after-school,
homework support,
she asked me,
Mama,
Who’s Flor eeda???
I said,
I don’t know for sure,
because there wasn’t,
a voice-mail…
But I suspect it may have been Coach Boucher…
She wondered,
What do you think the call’s about???
I waited,
briefly,
for the facts,
to arrive,
with a smile,
and said,
It was something about,
a tension headache,
and a strong desire,
to erase,
in time for,
the final round…
Given what happened,
in the last five plus minutes,
of game three,
down in San Jose,
my funny bone,
tells me,
A.V. will be,
dipping into,
his rock collection,
and pulling out,
some hematite…
There’s the doghouse,
and then there’s,
THE dawghouse…
The difference,
between the two,
is the distance kept,
from the scrap heap,
multiplied by the PIM’s,
of the opposing team,
divided by the dying seconds,
of the third period,
the stunned silence of,
You sunk my battle ship…
With two cats in the yard...
Natural factors…
All through the Long Cold he has missed her,
even when he was hunting with Tall Tailless and the pack-sister,
or playing hunt-the-lemming,
Especially then,
because Darkfur is so good at it…
Of all of the wolves in the Mountain pack,
Wolf misses her the most…
They are one breath,
one bone…
He feels this in his fur…
— in Oath Breaker by Michelle Paver
Yesterday Little Gem,
was home,
with a persistent sniffle…
So I made her,
some muffins,
with ginger,
lemon zest,
dried Montmorency cherries,
and 72% dark chocolate,
known,
for its anti-oxidants…
And then after she told me,
Papa wants San Jose to win,
and I told her,
Papa will be a lot happier,
if he takes responsibility,
and stays,
in his own department,
we headed off,
in our big red car,
to secure ingredients,
for sandwiches…
As we wheeled,
past fish,
and into produce,
I heard a man,
schooling someone,
in the definitive colours,
of sweet peppers…
At first I thought,
he was talking to his puppy,
but when I peeked,
over the display,
I saw a little girl,
with a plush pink purse…
I cringed,
at the memory,
of how I’d changed myself,
for the worse,
because I’d been told,
by the establishment,
that my voice,
was not varied enough,
to hold the attention,
of young children,
for a full school day…
That was,
until I woke up,
and came to,
my senses…
For some reason,
we think,
children are tuned,
for the high pitches,
of superficial sing song,
and two syllable words…
The other day in the park,
a twenty-one month old,
little boy,
wordlessly asked for my racket,
and then said,
Badminton???
My guess,
is that,
if I took that little girl,
from the Superstore,
with some of her friends,
to a pre-game skate,
for the intents,
and purposes,
of speech and language support,
and asked her what she sees,
when she looks at,
Henrik,
and Daniel,
she would start talking,
about rainbows,
fractals,
and the polyphonic symphonies,
we don’t have words for…
Last night,
when we were reading,
in her bed,
Little Gem said,
Did you see that fairy???
It just flew over us,
and out the door…
If you want to see fairies,
you have to relax your eyes,
and watch for things that are blurry…
The other day I saw one,
in Papa’s car…
You can find fairies,
where you’d least expect them…
I know that I also,
once saw,
little people,
because I remember,
drawing them,
all the time,
before I went to Kindergarten…
And now that,
I’ve de-schooled myself,
they’re back,
and adding proof,
to the pudding,
that we’re never alone…
Over breakfast this morning,
I mused,
on the application,
of a tattoo,
across one of my love handles…
Little Gem freaked,
Mama,
that is one of the most embarrassing plans you’ve EVER had!!!!
A little star,
on your wrist is one thing,
inking Raffi Torres,
on your hip,
is outrageous…
Starshine added her two cents worth,
Now you’re getting obsessive…
I begged to differ,
Obsessive is a poster,
over the bed…
A vote for intensity,
where the sun don’t shine,
is purely a confidence builder…
And everyone,
should always be open,
to one of those,
even if the flight,
is a little Bure…
Funny how,
the phone just rang…
All the way from Michigan…
Or was it,
just a fairy,
I want to hear you whisper... (Staging and photo: Little Gem)
Canuck'd 