Most Amusing, an Email

Another edition of Throw Back Thursday, another email.
I was going to write you a long (and funny) email this afternoon filled with various anecdotes about people at work … but I decided against it.
After all, why should I write a potential keepsake for you when all you ever do is respond with a few witty words?
… Alas, this is all you get today.
Good Riddance.

War is Hell: circa 2010

Throw Back Thursday, an email I wrote my Dad many years ago.

I feel a certain camaraderie now with men and women who have been scarred by battle. I myself posses a battle wound. Last night on the return trip from Sweeny Todd I accidentally closed my leg in the door of a jeep. It was excruciating but somehow I managed to keep a clear head and beat the enemy back (open the car door). My leg is twisted, covered in purples and blues that are brighter than the hues in my hair.
It was hard to sleep, my mind overflowing with questions. Why me? How had this peaceful trip turned into such a bloodbath? What did I do to the car door to deserve this animosity? How could something I had always treated with gentleness and respect, never slamming, treat me in such a way?
War is hell, ladies and gentlemen. And I have the bruise to prove it.

Observations from the Emotionally (un)Stable

This edition of Throw Back Thursday is an email I wrote my Dad when I first starting thinking about moving back to Victoria from Edmonton. I didn’t end up moving that summer, but this email is still one of my favourites.

I am so perky today it’s revolting. I’m not sure if I’m giddy from lack of sleep (I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at my ceiling last night before finally giving up and reading a book) or if I’m just excited that it’s Friday and I was able to wear jeans to work. Perhaps it’s some combination of the two? Or, maybe it’s that I snuck into work this morning wearing my red high top converse all stars (the colour of rebellion!)? Only God and my subconscious know for sure.

Either way, it’s made for an interesting morning. It certainly is a nice change from the last few days which were, well, let’s just say the last few days were dark. Literally, the sun seems to have abandoned Edmonton and, while the weather is still unseasonably warm, the flurries in the fog are taking over the city. I wonder if knowing that this is my last winter in this “City of Champions” (she says with maximum irony) is contributing to my cheerful mood? Probably. I am sure that my nostalgic side will miss Edmonton and the experiences I had here. Perhaps in the future I will click through the Edmonton Journal with a mysterious half smile. Perhaps not.

(You will notice I said click instead of flip. Welcome to the digital age, my friend).

Maybe my time here in Edmonton will be included in the author write up featured at the back of my novels? A line or two about how surviving the prairies has given me a strength of character and an appreciation for the small town community. Or perhaps I will write a semi-autobiographical story about a young girls journey to adulthood on the frozen plains? I suppose anything’s possible. Never say never. *insert other cliché about the unexpected*

Writing this is causing my perky mood to morph into giddily contemplative. I suppose reflection is good for the soul, but I don’t wish to bore you so I will end it here.


Patterns aren’t just for Knitting

This edition of Throw Back Thursday is another example of writing using patterns. It was originally sent as an email to my family.

Apparently I have too much time on my hands, how else can you explain this? Besides just saying I am a horrible procrastinator. Can’t a girl just have a little fun every now and then without it being something weird? Don’t people make allowances for strange habits anymore?

Eccentricity should be revered!

Fortunately for me, I am far too self-involved to care that you aren’t impressed. Great people shouldn’t have to rely on the good opinions of others. However, I could get by with a little more recognition. I am, after all, doing something pretty cool here.

Just you wait until I finish, then you will be impressed.

Know this; you probably aren’t the only person who didn’t get it right away. Lots of people don’t see patterns in the beginning. Many might not even notice until they get to the end. (Not even these hints will help them.) One shouldn’t be embarrassed if it takes a while.

Perhaps I should try distracting you now? Questioning you? Really, I could throw in some misdirection. Should I tell you about my newest hobby?

Today I decided to take up Rapping. Usually I make fun of rappers, but lately I’ve started thinking they are cool. Very cool. Who else can pull off being “Gangsta” with such aplomb? Xander from Buffy certainly couldn’t. You’d think that I would be able to come across “Gangsta” without the aid of rap; you’d be wrong. Zeal just isn’t enough these days.

Ode to a Father (with Horses)

This edition of Throw Back Thursday features a poem I wrote for my Father many, many years ago.

It is true I’m not a poet
(though you seem not to know it,
asking me to write you a poem, the nerve!)
But still you asked
and so I was tasked
to write you a poem with horses.
Horses you say?
Why yes! They go “nay”
And ninny and nicker too!
I’ve ridden a horse twice
though it wasn’t so nice
(I fell on my face, you see)
I broke up my glasses
they were eaten by bass’
(or any other fish in the sea).
My what a rut
I seem to be stuck
oh dear me, what do I say?
I think I must end
this poem my friend
before it runs on too long.
(too late!)

1 through 10

Throw Back Thursday. An experiment with patterns.

One day Two children found a house in the woods. Three times they had to knock beFour the door mysteriously opened. They took Five steps down the hallway before coming across Six sinister gentlemen, who did not seem to know the rules to musical chairs (they were using Seven chairs). It appeared as though the gentlemen were expecting the children as there were Eight pieces of cake, all neatly sliced and waiting for consumption.

Curious, thought the children.

The gentlemen all smiled.

Nine times out of Ten, if there are sinister gentlemen waiting for you in the woods they will not be bearing cake.

Sinister Eyebrows!

Sinister Eyebrows!




Final Fantasy: The War of the Magi (pt. 3)

Throwback Thursday: Final Fantasy: War of the Magi Part 3 of 3

This was a writing exercise I assigned myself one summer when I was 14. I took a story I was extremely familiar with (Final Fantasy 3 – a game I spent HOURS playing for many years and have beaten more times than I can count) and decided to write about it. I wanted practice at writing description and dialogue.

It was originally published on I never finished it.
For part one click here. For part two click here.

The kingdom of Figaro was located on a vast desert, south of the town of Narshe. If a traveler was lucky, they would reach Figaro in two days.

It was rare that anyone was lucky.

Throughout the snow, the grassy terrain and the vast desert that separated the two towns roamed strange creatures of the night and thieves. A weary explorer was a perfect target for any one of the dangers that lurked in the dark.

Locke and Terra reached the Castle of Figaro on the sixth night of their journey. Due to Terra’s weak state, they traveled slowly, only during the day, avoiding any place that was not in the open. There was only one attacker, but he was sent running by a blow from Locke.

Upon reaching their destination, they were stopped immediately at the gate and eyed suspiciously by two guards.

“Halt! What business have you here?” The guard on the left stepped forward and placed his hand on the handle of his sword.

Locke stepped out of the shadows so that only he was in complete view. A sigh escaped the guard who had talked and relief was evident in his tone. “Oh, it is you Locke.”

Giving one of his most charming smiles Locke gestured to Terra. “Of course it’s me. And I have brought a friend. Edgar should be expecting us.”

Terra stepped forward. “A friend? King Edgar said nothing of a friend,” the second guard spoke. “Perhaps we should go clear things up with the King.”

“Nonsense, since when has Edgar ever minded the company of a lady?” Locke winked as Terra eyed both the soldiers. She hoped she would not be left outside of the kingdom to fend for herself. Her strength was still not completely back.

“I suppose it would be alright,” the first guard narrowed his eyes but allowed them through.

It had been hard to see much of the kingdom in the dark, but as they entered the castle Terra was stunned. The walls surrounding them were made up of large stones that had been carefully mortared together and they stretched easily three times as tall as her 5’7″ frame. A wide strip of royal blue velvet carpeting stretched down the length of the corridor towards a set of elaborate wooden doors that faced them. Two guards stood as still as statues, one on either side of the carpet. The only proof that they were indeed alive was when they turned their heads and faced them.

Timidly, Terra turned and faced Locke who had in the last week become her most trusted protector. Locke smiled softly at her and the two headed down the entranceway to the wooden doors that she had so recently admired. He opened them and allowed her to pass through first. Continue reading