It was Michelle's birthday not too long ago so I got us tickets to the Barenaked Ladies concert last night. The Ladies are Michelle's favorite band. And they remind me of our honeymoon- we tuned into Live 8 on our wedding night while waiting for room service, we danced in broad daylight on Main Street in Antigonish to their song One Week, and I bought her a copy of Maroon in North Sydney while we waited for the ferry to Newfoundland. So you can see that tickets to the show was a pretty brilliant birthday gift.
What a great show, too. I'm used to the Rexall Wall of Fuzz, where bands like tool or System of a Down turn up their amps to 11, so the singers sound like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. Mwah mwah mwah mwah. But BNL just played at a nice, mellow volume and I could actually hear all the instruments. And I could understand the between-song banter, much of which was about Battlestar Galactica. Another reason to love the Ladies.
My favorite BNL song is Pinch Me, which also reminds me of our honeymoon, driving all around the Maritimes in our rental car Seamus, yelling out "Under where?" after every line. That was their first encore song and they nailed it.
Michelle says "I cannot articulate it any better than 'fucking awesome!'"
You can read the Sun's review of the concert here.

Brain function is always a little slow coming off nightshift. Today I went to rent some movies and decided to take up Jason's recommendation. We had been discussing musical biopics, agreeing that Walk the Line was really excellent, so Jason said I would also really like the one with Jamie Foxx. But damned if I could find it. Luckily I remembered that his name was "Ray" and not "Roy" before I went and made a fool of myself by asking if they had it.
I also rented some more Battlestar goodness. Did you know that my shovel at work has joysticks almost identical to the ones in the Vipers? Yup. Only instead of firing tracer bullets when you press the buttons, you just set the brakes, or honk the horn, or trip the bucket door. Though, to be sure, dropping 80 tons of rock on a Cylon Raider would crush it pretty good. So long as you could convince the Cylon to park underneath.
Finally, two headlines that caught my eye in today's paper: "Mercury and Lead Not as Safe as Once Thought"; and "Astronaut Charged With Attempted Kidnapping".

Michelle always kisses me goodbye before she leaves for work. Yesterday I woke up just as she approached, and I must've been still dreaming or something because for whatever reason I freaked out and went, "Aaahh!" Not exactly a scream, but definitely a yelp. I startled her so she yelped too. Kind of embarrassing- scared of my own wife.
I don't normally scare that easy, unless you're talking sasquatches. Well, not so much anymore. When I was a kid, though, as long time readers might recall, ole Bigfoot kind of gave me the heebiejeebies. But I'm looking forward to a good scare when Viper Comics releases Sasquatch in April. Check out its promotional blog, showcasing artwork from the 250-page graphic anthology, which features the work of David Hartman, Otis Frampton and many others.

Thinking it would be an easy matter to convert video from DVD to PSP, I rented Season 1 of the new Battlestar Galactica, which I have been sorta curious about ever since it came out- especially since lately it's been touted as one of the finest shows on television. I figured I could watch it on the bus to work, but the power of conversion eludes me. So I just watched the first episode on my TV. Kickass! The trouble is, now I have to watch the whole series. Does anyone know how to do the conversion? I'm kinda like the crew of the Battlestar- only old computers on board.
Here's a cool painting from deviantArt:

Battlestar Galactica by *jasonpal on deviantART

Check out these alternate designs for the cylons. And here's a funny Weird Al song on YouTube comparing the two series. I loved the original series when I was a kid, I even had a bunch of the toys and comic books, and I was horrified to see an episode as an adult and realize how cheesy it was. Though I still love the themesong, which was worked in rather cleverly into the pilot episode of the new show. But I'd say the new series is pretty much cheese-free.
How's this for cheesy? When I was four years old, and my parents would take me to watch the fireworks, I would pretend it was a space battle with Starbuck and Apollo shooting down cylon ships. Every time a firework would go off I'd yell "Good shot Starbuck!" or "Way to go Apollo!"
Uh, yeah. It would be best if you never repeated that to anyone.

PSPs have been sprouting like weeds amongst the guys on my crew. On the bus they'd pull them out and those of us who were PSPless would watch in envy as they played against each other via Bluetooth. Even my Dad decided he wanted one. I thought they were cool but not really worth the expense. But they went on sale for crazy cheap so I bought one. Dad did too. Yay! I think of it as an mp3 player that can do other stuff too. Finally I can listen to music at work that doesn't suck. My XM Radio subscription expired and it was kind of a failed experiment even if we had some good times.
So, anyone know any good podcasts? You know the kind of stuff I like. Stuff to think about on nightshift.
Remember that Roald Dahl set Michelle got me for Christmas? Right now I'm reading Going Solo, which is part 2 of his autobiography (part 1 wasn't in the set, which is like putting Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator but not the Chocolate Factory in it). It's hilarious and fascinating. He seems to take the same approach to life as he did to writing children's books- just soak it all in and revel in the wonder of it all. That guy lived quite a life. Even without a PSP.

The Case of the Missing Purple Gasoline
On Christmas Eve, Jamie, Jason and I snuck away early from work. We'd've been fools not to- we all got to quit early to drive the haultrucks down to park them in the main shop which is also where the parking lot is. We were supposed to turn around and ride the other way 20 kms back to our locker room to catch the bus which would then drive us back the same 20 kms to drop us off at the parking lot. So why drive an extra 40 kms when we could just leave from there? Makes sense, right?
The only minor inconvenience to that plan is we were still in our work clothes. So rather than burden the truck with extra, unnecessary hardhats, I suggested we store them in the KalTire truck which was always in the parking lot and never seemed to move. Jason thought this was a fine idea, and we chucked our hats into the truck. Jamie, however, had qualms and took his helmet home. And so we all enjoyed our Christmas break, with an extra hour thrown in due to our cleverness.
Of course, when we returned to work two days later the KalTire truck was gone.
Jamie had a good laugh and I once again called on my cleverness to rustle up me and Jason some lids. No big deal, though my hardhat had three unique things that I regret losing- my name was on it, as well as a 36-Year Safety sticker (kind of exaggerated, that), and a LED headlamp that is indispensible when I work outside, especially at night.
This week at work, my coworker Randy mentioned that we could get batteries for our headlamps, so I pointed out what I thought was an obvious fact- I no longer had a headlamp. I explained what happened and Randy said he would try and visit KalTire to retrieve our helmets.
At the end of the night he took me aside and informed me that KalTire was accusing Jason and I of siphoning half a tank of gas from the truck. And leaving our hardhats behind as evidence.
"That's ridiculous- I'm not a thief and also I'm not a moron."
Randy agreed, saying the accusation was insulting and stupid. Siphoning gas is pretty much impossible, and the other possibility was that we stole the truck. Since we were in such a hurry to go home for Christmas it seemed unlikely that we would take the time to cruise the minesite for three hours to use up half a tank of gas.
So what really happened to the gas? Who the fuck cares! Maybe KalTire guy took the opportunity to steal some gas and blame it on the guys whose hardhats he had suddenly come into possession of. Or maybe he just didn't realize how much gas he'd used already. Whatever, I don't care. But it wasn't us- throwing away three $70,000 jobs (not to mention my 36 years of service!) for twenty bucks worth of gas is like, is like, so ludicrous it's not even worth thinking of a good metaphor to show how dumb it is.
So anyways, next week on dayshift maybe I'll have to go to the bosses and explain why we had to toss our hardhats in the truck. I don't see anything serious happening, everyone with half a brain can see how baseless the accusation is. So I'm not worried.
I still never got my hardhat back.

Here's a bizarre and beautiful short film about an octopus with a tree growing out of his head: The Tale of How.

I've never seen The Thing, but a couple of weeks ago I read the original short story by sci-fi legend John W. Campbell, called "Who Goes There?". The lovely red-eyed blue critter you see to your left is the Thing. Great name, eh? I scanned the image from my copy of Barlowe's Guide to ExtraTerrestrials, which is an old artbook done up as a field guide to alien species. Pretty cool, though most of the species are from stories that are fairly obscure nearly thirty years later.
I'd love it if someone put out a similar guide- but of course, there are now thousands upon thousands of stories to glean aliens from.
What species would you have in there? I nominate (for starters, anyways) the qheuen, from David Brin's Uplift Storm trilogy. Qheuens are a crab-like, five-legged race who speak from leg-vents and see from a 360-degree vision strip on their heads. And hoons and g'keks from the same series would be very cool to see too.
And anything from Dan Simmons' Ilium/Olympos- Setebos, Caliban and voynix. Also the shrike from his other masterpiece, the Hyperion Cantos.

Take a look at the new Pirates posters! They're pretty cool. I really dig Keira- she's so kickass. Orlando looks . . . like he's trying very very hard to be angry and intense. That's the kindest way I can think of to phrase it. Poorlando.
"Set a course for Hidden Pirate Island. A.K.A. Hong Kong!"

Much less cool is that Karen Ellis of Planet Karen, who once drew me a Pirate Bear, received a really crappy Christmas present- diabetes.

Did you hear about the Rolling Stone writing contest? If you're a young urban hipster who goes to all the shows this would be right up your alley. I'm a not-so-young suburban unhipster who doesn't go to any shows so I'll give this one a pass. But Alyssa, I'm looking at you!
I read Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures, by Vincent Lam. He won a different sort of "writing contest" with that one- the Giller Prize. It's really good, as you'd expect. I gotta tip my toque to him- Lam is the same age as me, is a doctor, and now a prize-winning writer.
I can't really figure out a good way to segue to this next segment so I'll just totally change the subject abrubtly.
Yesterday at the G, Griffyn sat with Michelle and me, enjoying the jazzy Epiphany concert. 'Uncle' Crogdor was playing his big upright bass like he always does, but then switched to guitar later in the set. Griffyn, who is not quite four, but has always admired guitar players and emulated them to comic effect, was astonished. "I didn't know Craig could play the guitar!" he said.

Some Random Saturday Stuff

Michelle gave me a Roald Dahl boxset for Christmas. I loved him when I was a kid- The Enormous Crocodile was one of my favorite books, and my Grade 1 teacher read us James and the Giant Peach. I was almost trepidatious to reread him as an adult, lest the magic be lost, but I am happy to say they are just as great to read as an adult.

You know how George Lucas always said the Star Wars Trilogy was basically a silent movie with sound effects? Or something like that. Anyways on YouTube there is a fun little SW mashup done as a silent movie. And since you're there you might as well watch that great missed-empty-netter that allowed the Oilers to tie up the game against Dallas with two seconds left.

Yesterday coming home from work we almost hit the ditch. (We being me, Jason and Jamie who drive out together to save some time.) We didn't so no big deal, but it was funny to hear Jamie screaming like a little girl "We're gonna hit the ditch!!!!" He served in Afghanistan with the Light Infantry. OK, he wasn't actually screaming like a little girl but you can bet I'll say it that way every time I tell the story at work. Thanks to Jason for keeping his cool and keeping us on the road. I was then inspired to go buy Corb Lund's CD since we were rocking out to that all week. Or countrying out to it I guess. Michelle is shocked that I would buy country but this is more old-school. And he's from Alberta. Plus he was in the Smalls.

Did anyone watch Lady in the Water? Did you notice how M Night plays the writer whose work will someday save the world? And the only unlikeable human character is a film critic who says things like "There is no originality left in the world. I have resigned myself to that fact long ago." Later someone says of the critic (after he screws up without ever being told he was being asked something important) "What kind of person would be so arrogant as to presume the intention of another human being?"

Congratulations to my friends Trevor and Christina who recently welcomed twins into the world! This now gives them four kids under four years old! Holy smokes. They named the boy twin Nathan, which is almost as good as naming him Little Homie.

Last year I entered some writing contests- didn't win anything, but it's fun to try and provides motivation to write. In 2007 I'll keep at it. Here's a story I submitted, that almost doesn't qualify as a story since there's no conflict and nothing really happens in it. But it kind of encapsulates all the reasons I write- wonder, whimsy, innocence, curiousity and adventure.

I call this story "Thumb".

Billy was bored. He sat in the backseat of his parents’ car, watching the endless boreal forest zip by outside. The trees weren’t tall enough to be spooky, and the green wasn’t bright enough to be pretty. Just lots and lots of trees, all the same. They hadn’t seen any animals since yesterday. On the seat beside him was a discarded Game Boy with all the games he had beaten several times over. He sighed, but didn’t bother to ask if they were there yet. He knew they still had a long way to go.
“What the heck is that?” asked Mom in the front seat. Dad turned down the music, as he always did when Mom pointed out something to look at. Billy straightened out of his slouch to catch a look, too. “Whoa!” he said. Dad’s jaw just dropped a little. Mom said matter-of-factly, “It’s a giant! And he’s hitch-hiking!”
Up ahead there stood a very, very large man. A giant. He was wearing a jean jacket and had a leather backpack slung on one shoulder. Dark hair and a few days’ growth of whiskers on his face. With his right arm extended, thumb up, he looked just like a university student trying to hitch a ride, except that he was over 300 feet tall.
“Can we pick him up, Dad?” The question snapped Dad out of his shock.
“Of course not, Billy. There’s no room in the car for someone that big. And he might be dangerous.”
“Oh come on, dear. I’m sure he’s a very nice young fellow. If he was dangerous, I think he could just step on us and be done with it. I say we pull over and talk to him at least. Maybe he’s hungry.” Mom’s logic concerning the potential danger of the giant seemed irrefutable, and Dad also knew that it would be useless to point out that they had nothing that could possibly satisfy the hunger of a giant, so he decided to pull over.
“Yay!” Billy cheered.
The giant courteously knelt down to talk into Mom’s unrolled window. “Thanks for pulling over! Where you folks headed?”
Dad was about to say something evasive and non-committal, but Mom cut him off. “We’re heading home to Fernie- that’s where Grandma lives. School’s out for the summer and Jim and I are both teachers up in Yellowknife, so we have a couple of months of holiday. How about you?” Billy sat wide-eyed in the backseat, hardly listening to Mom’s rambling answer. He was studying the giant’s big blue eyes and scruffy hair. He couldn’t believe how cool this was.
“I’m going to Giants’ Stadium in New York to try out for the team. Nah, just kidding! I’m heading to the Rockies myself. Do some camping.” The giant was enthusiastic but polite, and he didn’t want to assume anything.
“Well,” Mom said, “we’d love to have you join us, but you’re, you know, a little big . . .”
The giant laughed. “Well, this is sort of reverse hitch-hiking- I’ll give you a lift in exchange for helping me get to where I’m going- maps and signs are a little small for my eyes to read without a microscope or magnifying glass or something.”
Dad made a choking noise, and Billy said his hundredth “Wow” and Mom giggled and said “Sure! Give us a lift!”
So the giant very gently picked up the car, being careful not to press too hard and dent the sheet metal. He placed it on his palm, holding it like a waiter holding a tray. Billy’s stomach did a little flip as they rose straight up nearly 300 feet. For the first time the potentially scary things about this situation were making themselves clear to him.
“Comfy?” asked the giant. Mom gave a little nod. “Alright then, let’s go!” And the giant started walking down the highway, strolling at nearly the same speed as the posted limit.
“Hi little fella,” said the Giant, talking to Billy. “My name’s Grant, but people just call me Thumb. What’s your name?”
Billy was determined not to be scared, but his stomach was still a little grumpy from the sudden disruptions, so he was inclined to be less charitable than a few minutes ago. “It’s not ‘little fella’, that’s for sure.”
“Billy!” said Mom, “Be polite to our guest.”
Billy’s initial sense of wonder was quickly turning into sullenness. But Thumb was amicable and good with kids. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Billy. Everyone is a ‘little fella’ to me, even your Dad!”
Billy inwardly thought this was very funny, but wasn’t ready to reconcile just yet. He looked at Thumb suspiciously, and asked “Aren’t you scared of bears?”
“Scared I’ll step on one and squish it.”
“Have you ever squished a bear?”
“No. Have you?”
Billy couldn’t stifle his giggle. “No, silly!” he said. Then, “You don’t eat bears do you?”
“Nah, I eat sandwiches that my mum made me before I left. Want one?”
The thought of Billy eating a giant sandwich was too much. He started laughing out loud, unable to help himself. Mom joined him, and Thumb smiled. Even Dad was coming around- a process aided by the fact that his fuel efficiency had just improved considerably.
Soon an easy and comfortable conversation kept the travelers occupied as Thumb’s giant strides ate up the miles. Dad helped Thumb stay on the right highway, reading the signs for him and telling him to take this or that exit. Once there was a bridge spanning a ravine, and Thumb let the car and its occupants down so they could drive across while Thumb went down into the valley, crossed the river, and climbed back up on the other side. Everyone stretched and then they were back on the road.
“Mr. Thumb?” said Billy. “Do you know any good stories? About giants?”
“Sure, I know tons of stories. You probably know lots of them, like about Paul Bunyan and Jack and the Beanstalk and all that. But did you ever hear of a giant named Pan Gu?”
“Pangoo? No, I never heard of him. Who’s he?”
“In the olden days, in China, before they built the Great Wall, they used to believe that the world was created by Pan Gu. At the beginning of time, they say that everything was nothing, or maybe, nothing was all there was. Anyways, the only thing that existed was a big egg. Inside this egg lived Pan Gu, and he lived there for, like, 18,000 years. And then one day he got annoyed with being inside that egg so he smashed it open with a huge axe he had.”
“Rarrghh!” said Billy, imagining he was Pan Gu.
“Yeah, exactly. So now Pan Gu was free of the egg, but there still wasn’t anything for him to do, except hold the sky up so it wouldn’t crash back on the ground. He did this for another18,000 years! Till one day he keeled over dead.”
“Blargh!” said Billy, and he pretended to be dead in the backseat of his parents’ car, eyes screwed shut and tongue lolling out of his mouth. Mom laughed.
“So what happened was, Pan Gu’s body became the world- all the mountains and rivers and lakes and stuff. That’s what the Chinese used to think, anyways.”
“Did you know Pan Gu? Was he your Dad?” Billy asked.
“Nah, that was a little before my time. It was even before your Dad’s time!”
“Hey!” said Dad, but he had enjoyed the story too, and was happy to be included. “Have you ever been to China, Mr. Thumb?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to go. I’d love to hike the length of the Great Wall, you know? If I was allowed. They’d probably want to make sure I didn’t kick any of it over. But even more than that, I want to go Antarctica. I always thought it would be cool to go to the exact South Pole and do a handstand.”
“Like Atlas!” Dad thought this was very funny. But Billy didn’t get it, and asked, “Who’s Atlas?”
As Thumb told the story, Mom looked over at Dad and smiled. It had been a very pleasant drive so far. At one point Thumb saw a big bull moose that was wading in a lake, and they stopped to watch it for a while. “I love animals,” said Thumb. The moose wasn’t concerned about the giant’s presence, but eventually it wandered away and they continued on.
It was starting to get dark and soon they would need to stop at a restaurant for something to eat, and then think about finding a campground for the night.
During a lull, Billy said, “Mom, when I grow up can I go with Mr. Thumb to the Antartika?”
“Antarctica.” Mom corrected. “And if it was alright with Mr. Thumb I don’t see why not. But you better start saving up your allowance now! It’s pretty expensive to go there, and you can’t exactly hitch-hike.”
Billy yawned and said, “Okay.” Thumb winked at Mom.
Dad said, “Well, Mr. Thumb, we’re glad we picked you up, but you can drop us off at this little town here so we can go in and get some supper.”
“Awww Dad!” said Billy, but Thumb nodded and let them down, so delicately the shocks didn’t even bounce.
“It was nice meeting you all! Have fun visiting your Grandma.”
“Wait, Mr. Thumb!” said Billy. “I didn’t know there was any such thing as giants . . .”
Thumb looked at him, and grinned. “There are giants in the world, Billy," he said,"And other things too.” With a wave, Thumb turned and walked away. Billy waved back, watching until Thumb was out of sight.

Happy New Year, Ebbybody!
Here's a question for you:
What was the highlight of your year? (or if you prefer, the lowlight)
I think my highlight was buying a house- it was so easy and hassle-free, contrary to conventional wisdom. One afternoon Michelle and I decided to go look at houses, just for something to do. We found the perfect house so we bought it. It was seriously that easy.
I think my lowlight was getting snmashed in the face at work, getting knocked down in the mud and seeing my blood dripping and not knowing if I was seriously hurt or not (I wasn't, thankfully).
I'll see you in 2007!

Best 6 Books
This was the hardest list for me since I read 60 or 70 books this year. And I'm not sure if ANY of them were actually published in 2006. I'll put the actual publication date in brackets.
1. Next of Kin, Peter Fouts (1997). This is the story of Washoe, the world's first talking chimpanzee (she speaks American Sign Language, as do many other great apes), and the scientist, Fouts, who spent his career learning from her and her family. Simultaneously hilarious, astonishing, and heartbreaking.
2. Olympos, Dan Simmons (2005). I've mentioned this book, and its predecessor Ilium, several times, and always somewhat inadequately. You can't really put such a book in a nutshell, dealing as it does with Homer, Proust and Shakespeare by throwing together Greek gods, robots, spaceships and monsters. On Mars.
3. Hitching Rides With Buddha, Will Ferguson (1998). Fellow Albertan Ferguson is rapdily becoming one of Canada's best loved writers, and this book shows why- it's a quirky travelogue full of eccentric figures and fascinating places as he hitch-hikes the length of Japan in pursuit of the cherry blossoms.
4. Serpent Catch, Dave Wolverton (1991). I tried reading its sequel first, The Path of the Hero, and found it pretty confusing, not realizing it was numba 2. Read in the correct order, they're great sci-fi fun, with Neanderthals and apemen and mammoths galore.
5. The Boilerplate Rhino, David Quammen (2000). How do you get this gig? Outside Magazine told Quammen to write a monthly column on anything science-related he felt like. This book is a collection of some of the best essays that resulted. Lucky for me there's another one out there.
6. Darwinia, Robert Charles Wilson (1998). I love Lost World stories, especially ones that have a unique mechanism for bringing said world into play. Special bonus- Wilson is a Canuck too.

I'm looking forward to reading a book that actually was published in 2006- Vincent Lam's Giller Prize winning Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures.

Top Movies of 2006
This list was a lot easier to make since I actually only went to three movies in all of 2006- X3, POTC:DMC and Flags of Our Fathers. We rented a handful more, such as V For Vendetta which was excellent; Ultraviolet was so terrible I stopped watching after 20 minutes (18 minutes too long); and Transamerica was a cool, quirky, sweet movie in the vein of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. But the best movie I saw this year was:
The World's Fastest Indian
Which might have come out in 2005. It's the true story of an Invercargill, New Zealand bloke who modified a 1920 Indian motorcycle till it was, indeed, the fastest in the world.
Speaking of Invercargill, I hope they make a movie about that Swanson guy. He, or possibly she, is best known for playing hockey. In fact, that's ALL that's known about this mysterious kiwi. That, and (s)he gives old hoodies to the Invercargill thrift shop.

Top 6 CDs of 2006
This was a tough list to make, since between Michelle and I we must have bought thirty discs this year. Though some of her discs (Josh Groban, Faith Hill) I doubt I will ever listen to. So, in more or less random order:

1. Angels and Airwaves, We Don't Need To Whisper. Blink-18who? Recommended track: Start the Machine
2. Beck, The Information. Hey, wasn't he on last year's list? That's alright, I'll include him any time he cares to make an album. Rec Track: Think I'm In Love (But It Makes Me Kind of Nervous to Say So)
3. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Stadium Arcadium. It's not their fault that radio is playing this to death. Rec. Track: If
4. Rob Zombie, Educated Horses. It inspired art. Rec. Track: Foxy Foxy
5. Johnny Cash, American V-A Hundred Highways. The Edmonton Sun's Fish Griwkowsky gave it five stars, saying he automatically grants this rating to any disc that makes him cry. I agree. Rec. Track: God's Gonna Cut You Down
6. Loreena McKennit, An Ancient Muse. Did you know she sounds exactly the same live, if not better? Rec. Track: Beneath A Phrygian Sky

Honorable Mention goes to The Tragically Hip for World Container, which gets better with every listen.

Something called Edge asked a very interesting question of some of the worlds' foremost scientists and thinkers:
WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IS TRUE EVEN THOUGH YOU CANNOT PROVE IT?
There are some pretty interesting answers, though I haven't gone through them all. I especially like Tor NØrretranders' answer.
My own answer, without taking too much time to think, is I believe Neanderthals survived until as recently as 5000 years ago, rather than going extinct 25,000 years ago as currently accepted.
So what's your answer?

As of 7:00 this morning I can check another item off my list of things to do in 2006:

Buy a house
Be declared Time's Person of the Year
Work 88 nightshifts

Yup, last set of nights for the year. Actually I only have two more shifts left for 2006! That's pretty great. What pretty sucks about it is that they're on the 24th and the 27th. So, Saturday night I drive 300 kms to Hinton for Christmas Eve dayshift, then drive home for Christmas, then Boxing Day I return for one more shift, then come home the next day. Oh well, what can I do?
Come to think of it, I could
Ask for the time off

No go, though. Oh well. Those four days off every week help ease the pain.
Still to accomplish on the list:

Cook Christmas turkey dinner for 14 people

When Michelle married me, she became my unwitting musical padawan- she was exposed to bushels of music never before heard by her ears. Today I think I will promote her from padawan to jedi knight. She came home to find me listening to Beck's Mellow Gold, specifically track 7, 'Sweet Sunshine', and she remarked, "This reminds me a little of Slipknot, in a way." And indeed, 'Virus of Life' and 'Iowa' both have a similar vibe, believe it or not, to that song. An astute observation!
I'm so proud!
Of course, it works both ways, as I am now something of an Oprah acolyte, knowing who Oprites such as Dr. Oz and Steadman are. I even watched Oprah's Road Trip episodes all by myself when Michelle was working late, coaching volleyball. In fact, Oprah is on right now so I guess I should go.

Three Years, and 2000 Miles
Michelle and I were two of the lucky few who were able to get tickets to Holly Cole's sort-of-annual Christmas concert with the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra last night. It was fantastic- she's so talented and innovative. And she has the sexiest voice ever.
I confess I teared up a little when she played 2000 Miles- my favorite of her Christmas songs (it's a Pretenders cover). Three years ago, I was scheduled to speak at the gathering during the Christmas season, and I asked my friend Deb if she would perform that song for me. The night before, Craig and Deb came over to the Woodsy Crypt to visit gabrielle, and Poe, and me. A fun time, we were sitting around talking when I got a phone call from my Grandma. Her youngest son, my uncle, had died quite suddenly and unpleasantly. In fact, he hanged himself. I made arrangements to help her take care of things and hung up. Craig and Deb stayed late into the night, just to be there. Craig said he would cover for me speaking-wise. Poe, the cat, even came and cuddled as I just sat on the couch. In the morning, gabrielle, my room-mate, made me coffee and gave me a poem she had written. Then I left to drive to Hinton, then Calgary, then Hinton, and eventually back to Edmonton- a distance of not quite 2000 miles, but far enough.
Anyways, when Holly Cole sang that beautiful song last night, and those tears welled up, it wasn't totally a response to sadness, but also a sense of gratefulness for the friends who are there for you in the long, cold winter nights.


He's gone 2000 miles
It's very far
The snow is falling down
Gets colder day by day
I miss you

The children will sing
He'll be back at christmastime

In these frozen and silent nights
Sometimes in a dream you appear
Outside under the purple sky
Diamonds in the snow sparkle
Our hearts were singing
It felt like christmastime

2000 miles
Is very far through the snow
Ill think of you
Wherever you go

He's gone 2000 miles
It's very far
The snow is falling down
Gets colder day by day
I miss you

I can hear people singing
It must be christmastime
I hear people singing
It must be christmastime

(lyrics by Chrissie Hynde)

Do I have to change to the new Blogger? It sort of implies that I do. I don't want to.
Anyway.
The real reason I signed in to Blogger tonight was to ask you guys to keep an eye out for my toque. Toques, actually. I lost my Yankees toque tonight, the one I got in New York and was wearing because the All Blacks toque I got in New Zealand got lost last year. Prior to that the toque I got in a case of beer and wore to China and Tibet got lost at a football game (probably stolen by a Roughrider). Not to mention the great toque I bought for when I went up to Churchill to see polar bears back on my cross-Canada hitch-hiking trip almost a decade ago- I lost that one after I got home a polar bear stole it from me and gave it to her mammoth friend.
So if you find one of my toques, please send it to me. I miss them. For some reason they remind me of traveling. I also like how they keep my head warm.

This week's Ten Word Challenge is up if you want to play. If you're not part of dA you can tell me and I can pass the link along. Or you could just join deviantArt.
My own challenge for today is called "Clean the Bathroom or Face Wife's Wrath". Wish me luck.

You know what there aren't enough of? Neanderthal songs. In fact, I can't think of even one off the top of my head, though I am sure there are some out there. So that's your assignment for today- find me some caveman songs. Eithre songs written by Neanderthals, or about them. Whichever.
Here's one from National Geographic- "Cannibal Neandertal". Catchy.

And check out what I found when I was over at Amazon- video of Loreena McKennit performing a song from her new CD, An Ancient Muse! Lovely. I assume you got her disc a couple weeks ago when it came out but if not it isn't too late to correct this grievous oversight. I've already pretty much worn out my copy.

Maybe you read Daniel Keyes' short story "Flowers For Algernon" in high school, or saw one of the tv shows or movies based on it. The original short story won a Hugo award in 1960. Certainly a classic.
But I bet you've never read the story that came in second in Hugo voting that year- Philip José Farmer's "The Alley Man". I came across it more or less by accident as it was in one of the many short story anthologies I buy for a buck in used bookstores that serve me so well on nightshift at the coal mine.
The alley man is Old Man Paley, the last surviving Neanderthal, a one-armed bottlepicker who lives off the refuse of us False Folks, worshipping the Old Guy in the Sky and patiently waiting for the time when he can rise again.
Or maybe he's just an ugly and demented old derelict whose biggest dream is to be a wrestler on tv, billed as the Awful Apeman.
Anyways, a great find. You should read it- the real pleasure is listening to Old Man's constant stream of chatter as he recounts his people's history to a wide-eyed anthropology student. Obviously I ate it right up since it was about Neanderthals. Or probably was about Neanderthals.
Speaking of Neanderlit, I recommend Dave Wolverton's Serpent Catch and Path of the Hero, which has Neanderthals and mammoths and all kinds of crazy things.
I'm sure you've at least heard of, if not read, Clan of the Cave Bear. Good book, could have used more actual cave bears though. Still, it has plenty of Neanderthals.

Finally, an Illustration Friday-type thing for writers like me! And you? Maybe! Much as I love browsing the IllFri, not being able to draw hampers my ability to take part by 100%. But I can write. So take a look at the Ten Word Wednesday challenge. You get ten words you have to incorporate into a poem. I jotted the words down on my notepad and went to the nearby SCup and came up with this- a poem loaded with fun and horror, if not literary merit (required words in unobtrusive grey):

Again, the ancient abomination awakens
virile vileness, destruction distilled, poetic putrescence
an ode to obscenity, reality’s requiem
its carapace a spiked and spiny agglomeration of illogical hues
the interstices of a thousand incisors crusted with remnants of exotic nourishment
neutronium-eyed, its stomach a black hole, a pulsar for a brain
it roars and the soundless vacuum shudders
the celestial spheres stop spinning, dismayed
as the unvanquishable avatar of avarice and annihilation
arises from the ooze, emerging from the dark matter that was its lair
in answer to an inexorable summons from the lesser dimensions
a tiny sprite, wingéd and naked, whistles a trill
and giggles in glee when her puppy comes running

Anyways, I just have to tell you how much I love Sinéad O'Connor's "Emperor's New Clothes." Thanks to XM Radio for introducing it to me. No thanks to FM radio for hiding it from me.

Some words from the artist who made me the beautiful paleo-art you see to your right- the mighty Wenzmaster!

"My real name is Renzo Rivadeneira. The "wenz" thing? Well, let's just say it's a long story. I am an Art Director and I have loved to draw since I was a child :3
I got started on drawing thanks to X-Men comics. I remember the day I bought my first comic book; that day everything changed! My influences range from classic American comics, passing through to Manga and Anime - I would imagine that all of this mixing has resulted in my own style - the Wenz style. :)
I would love to make my own comic book with my own characters and watch them on Cartoon Network.
Finally, don't forget that Peru is a country full of creative artistic talent and GREAT food!"

Be sure to check out his gallery, especially Snow Jumping, which was the picture that first drew me to him. And remember, he is available for commissions.
While you're over at deviantArt, you can read my new poem Working Outside in Winter, inspired by my last week at work. I wrote it for a Seasons writing contest.
Speaking of Peru, I finally got around to watching Kronk's New Groove today. It was pretty good for a Disney sequel, which usually are pooey. It helped that all the voice actors came back. As much as I love visuals I'm finding more and more that voice acting can really kill an animated movie for me. Although in the case of Cars, which we watched last night, the voice acting and visuals were completely fine, it was just the insipid story that ruined it.

Polar bears and woolly mammoths were contemporary, though just for a very brief period. Mammoths came out of Africa nearly 5 million years ago, and then died out probably around 10,000 years ago, though the most recent mammoth remains, from Wrangel Island, date to as recently as 3700 years ago.
Polar bears evolved from grizzlies about 30,000 years ago. Which possibly makes them the youngest species of megafauna on the planet, though I don't know for sure. Wood bison might be younger (but are they a species or a sub-species??), or some other beast. Anyways, the point is, for about 20,000 years polar bears and woolly mammoths frolicked together on the tundra.
Did you know woollies are more closely related to African and Asian elephants than the two types of elephants are to each other? Crazy eh? And there's a population of grizzlies on Alaska's ABC Islands (Admiralty, Baranof and Chichagof) that is more closely related to polar bears than mainland grizzlies. Thus it seems likely that maritimus evolved from this isolated population of horribilis.
I'm not a geneticist so I only have a murky grasp of how they figure those things out.

Very briefly (I have one more shift this week so it's past my bedtime), allow me to introduce you to Renzo Rivadeneira- Wenzmaster! I asked him to draw Homie Bear riding a Woolly Mammoth, since I believe it is a paleontological fact that bears and mammoths were good friends back in the Ice Age. As you can see, they liked ice cream! Though ice cream is rarely preserved in the fossil record.
Maybe when I get home I'll post some more info on my Peruvian artist friend. He is available for commissions, btw.

Whatever happened to the Neanderthals? They used to dominate Europe- imagine a social predator with the mental capacity of a modern human coupled with the brute strength of a gorilla. Common wisdom says they died out around 30,000 years ago, possibly at the hands of Homo sapiens- though another theory suggests they were ill-adapted to the post-ice age climate. National Geographic has a news item that suggests Neanderthals and sapiens interbred, and that the Neander population was genetically absorbed into ours. The bottom line is, we don't really know what happened to them.
What if they survived much later than the fossil record shows? Everyone knows the fossil record is more of a broad spectrum tool rather than a precise measuring rod. A difference of, say, 25,000 years is miniscule in geological terms. I've always thought this little throwaway paragraph in the Bible was intriguing:

The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown. Genesis 6:4

Certainly the massive Neanderthals would have seemed godlike to the much smaller sapiens. To me, the cryptic nature of this passage suggests two things- that the Nephilim were fairly common knowledge and wouldn't have needed to be explained much beyond that description, and that whoever they were, they interbred with "humans".
What do you think? I'd be proud to have a little Neanderthal blood in me.

I'm home for the first time in two weeks! It's just how I remember it. Tomorrow or the next day I think I will treat you to my ruminations on sasquatches and Neanderthals, but until then join me in congratulating my good friend Zimmy for being awarded a well-deserved Daily Deviation!


Waiting For Judgement- COLOR by *zimeta08 on deviantART

You can check out the interview I did with her a few months ago.
PS- I am graciously accepting PS3s if you have any to spare. Also HDTVs too please. Not much sense without Hi-Def. Heck, I'll accept PSPs, even. I'm very generous.

Yay for Jasper!
We had a pretty nice weekend in Jasper. The photo above is from our ill-fated expedition to find the sandstone hoodoos and tunnel-like notch through a cliff towards Pocahontas. It was ill-fated because we trudged through kilometers of hard, crusty snow looking for said landmarks, only to turn back in defeat and see them, plain as day, right near the start of the trail. So many things depend on angle and perspective. Oh well. Next time.
Our main focus was just relaxing and getting away for a while, and we accomplished that masterfully. There's a mammoth tusk on display in one of the storefronts so that was really all I needed to make me happy. Oh yeah and the black wolf we saw on the drive out. The bears, of course, are having a rest.

Another work week done. It was kind of a crazy one, too, but I won't bore you with the details. It's enough to say that everyone went home safely. Sometimes that's all you can ask for.
But now I'm on days off! Tomorrow Michelle is coming out here and we will then head to Jasper to take advantage of the off-season rates and just spend some quality time in les montagnes. That's Japanese for the mountains. Which reminds me that I'm reading Will Ferguson's Hitching Rides With Buddha, in which he hitch-hikes across Japan. One of his rides confidently asserted that he was going to North America to climb every one of the Rocky Mountains.

"Every mountain? Are you sure? I mean, that's a lot of mountains. Jeez, there must be . . . "
"Every mountain," he said, and looked over at me with a cross look, as though I weren't holding up my end of the conversation.

It's a great book, and Ferguson is a great writer, he's even from Alberta, so check him out if you get a chance. I love reading about all the characters he met while hitching. I met some too when I thumbed my way across Canada, maybe I'll try to remember some stories to tell you. Anyways, have fun in Jasper! Oh wait, that's me who's going.

The Edmonton Journal is having a poetry contest, judged by our very own Poet Laureate, Alice Major. You can enter one, and only one, previously unpublished poem. So I am having trouble deciding which one to enter- I suppose I could write one for it but between work and my other writing projects on the go I doubt I will have time. Since rhyming poems aren't taken seriously by anyone these days, I won't enter any of my funny little rhyming couplet poems. So I need your help and advice- I have narrowed it down to one of the following non-rhymey poems, and would appreciate your feedback as to which one I should enter.
First, there's E=mc², one of my favorites. I wrote it in anticipation of the trip gabrielle and I took that I mentioned a few days ago.
Then there's Love Poem, With Robots. I like it because it has my traditional fun whimsical element, but is also a semi-seriously romantic poem.
Finally, my favorite poem, but maybe one that's a little too strange for this contest: Cadaverous Cattle.
Thanks for your feedback- even if it's to say that I suck!
And when you're done, go check out this Japanese video that purports to show a Megalodon , and decide if it's really the ancient terror of the deep returned to life (they occasionally dredge up unfossilized Megalodon teeth, you know!) or just some other, more mundane species of shark. Either way it's pretty crazy.
And a local man says he has a sasquatch on tape! The next holy grail of cryptozoologists will be a video of a bigfoot wrestling a megalodon. And maybe I should write an epic poem about this titanic match and submit it to the Journal.

DeviantArt's Nashya is featured in a new book, Mangaka America. In fact, that's her art gracing the cover! But she isn't the only artist in it, it's got a bunch of other American artists of the manga style. Not that I really see her art as being specifically manga, but that's alright. It's enough to know that it kicks ass.
You might recall that I commissioned Nashya to make the artwork for gabrielle's blog, so head over there, admire the art, and say happy birthday to her- it's not too late because here on our side of the world it is still her day.
Isn't it cool how the book cover matches the polar bear?

Due to the International uh . . . what's it called? Dateline? My brains is all fuzzy because I am still awake from yesterday. Well, it's actually tomorrow down in New Zealand right now. Whoa timewarp- definitely a paradox. Which means it's time to celebrate the birthday of one of my best mates, the vampirenomad! Happy birthday! A little over two years ago we packed up the Woodsy Crypt, said farewell to F.A.N., threw a couch over the balcony, left Ted in charge and made our way to Malaysia and New Zealand. After a few months I came home and eventually got married, while gabrielle lived up to the nomadic part of her nickname and stayed behind. I've been going through my journal trying to find a good story to tell from the trip, but there's too many. Wedge. Why Wedge was Named Wedge. Why He Could Have Been Named Leak. Barefoot cinema patrons. The town square hexagon in Dunedin. Whales. Dolphins. Sea turtles. Dangerously inept diving-school classmates. Fell beasts. One Rings and One Ringgits. Coppelia. Tongariro. Hobbiton. "Hey it's a gay bus tour!" and "Oh, my mates stayed behind to do each others' hair". Kura Tawhiti. The Twizel Office of Development (as well as its famous bakery where the menu is apparently just for show). Cheep birds. Kea birds. Sheep- so many sheep. I could go on and on and not even scratch the surface of the good times we had- and that's not even getting into the Woodsy Crypt era. Happy Birthday Lt. Nixon! I still haven't located Private Blythe- he remains MIA. Winters out.

Congratulations to Phil Carnehl, the Rebel Penguin, who was awarded a Daily Deviation for one of the Yeti pieces I commissioned him to do for a children's story I wrote. It's truly deserved. Seeing all the positive feedback has reinforced my desire to try and get that sucker published. I've been dragging my feet because I'm not convinced trying to get an agent is good for one's soul. I love Miss Snark, but reading her just drives home the point that publishing is a dog-eat-dog world. Well, I'm a bear with a yeti on my side so I guess there's no need to be timid.


Snow White Shepherd by *rebel-penguin on deviantART

Here is the interview I did with him last month which has now fallen off the main page into the archival abyss.
And check out Shane Cheffins' new work- he's the guy who did the robot bear you see to your right.

Nothing new to tell you about the screaming ghost girl. Here in Edmonton there's been another mystery going around concerning a University of Alberta professor who's gone missing. Seems he called in sick and then went to Hawaii to do some adventuring, only he never got there. Everyone figures he met some misfortune while hiking, but what everybody forgets is, he's a nanotech researcher. To me it's obvious that he downloaded his consciousness into billions of tiny, self-replicating robots who will now go colonize the universe.
Which reminds me of a short short story I wrote about nanotech once. Not quite as short as the 6-word stories Cass mentioned, but pretty close.

Anyways, here is the first entry for my bloggiversary contest:

Infamy.
A Halloween Story
By Gabrielle

“Look, all I’m saying is that I do the same thing he does! He gets all the press. I just want my due.”
“I understand that, Mr. Durt, but there are mitigating circumstances to consider.”
“What circumstances?” Mr. Durt paced the room with a plodding gait. He sighed heavily. “There’s only one difference between us.”
“Blood.” The lawyer pushed his glasses up his nose and peered at his client.
“Yeah. And that’s it.”
“Mr. Dracool is claiming that centuries of history and development enmeshed his family, if you will, in their heritage. He says you have no such claim. He has substantial evidence to support his case.”
“Evidence?” Mr. Durt was exasperated. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
“The foreign property holdings, the folklore of the region, the centuries of precise knowledge… the list goes on but you can see in these transcripts that it is all well documented. You have no such proof.”
“We’ve been around just as long!”
“Proof, Mr. Durt, is what courts are looking for. Not emotional hearsay.” The lawyer stacked papers into his briefcase and snapped it shut with an air of finality. “I can’t take your case to court. There’s nothing to go on. We’d never win. Bring me something substantial and I’ll reconsider. But until then, I must decline to represent you.” With that, the lawyer left the room.
Mr. Durt groaned and sank into a chair. He stared morosely out the lone window and his thoughts uncoiled slowly, with a hesitant air, until at last they were laid straight and clear before him. “I don’t need a lawyer,” he said then. He felt a bit triumphant. “I’ll try this case in the court of public opinion. I’ll go to the papers! All it will take is a little publicity and bang – I’ll be out of Dracool’s shadow for good.”

* * * *

The headline on the next day’s paper read as follows:
DURT: JUST LIKE DRACOOL
“Mr. Durt claims that the Dracool family have been ousting him from rightful popularity since the early 1900s. In our exclusive interview, he reveals the shocking lack of difference between he and Dracool. No longer content to wait in the wings for the dregs of Dracool’s success, what Durt wants now is equality. Story on page 6.”
The circulation of the papers spiked noticeably and the editor of The Chronicle knew a golden story when he saw one. He sent his best journalists to obtain a rebuttal interview from Dracool.
The day after Durt’s story the headline read as follows:
DURT LIVES UP TO NAME SAYS DRACOOL.
“Mr. Vladimir Dracool spoke out against claims by Mr. Durt that his family had been leeching fame off Durt since the early 1900s. According to him, Durt has neither the brains nor the style to wrest the Dracool family from their status. He says Durt is “just a cretin fumbling for his day in the dawn”. Story on page 3.”
The papers were snatched up. The public loved a battle royale. The headlines bopped back and forth like a verbal ping-pong.
DURT ACCUSES DRACOOL OF BATTY LEGACY.
Then: DRACOOL DECRYPTS ILL WILL
And the following day: DURT: GRAVE ACCUSATIONS BY DRACOOL
Followed by: DRACOOL SLINGS FRESH MUD
The public ate it up for a good two weeks. There appeared to be no resolution to the quarrel nor indeed did either party seem particularly interested in a cease-fire. Durt and Dracool merrily exchanged barbs and innuendo with a revolving door of journalists and The Chronicle circulation nearly doubled. But then came a plateau. And then the decline. There was nothing new to say. Old jabs were re-worded into new headlines and the public’s appetite waned. Until one day, nearly three weeks after Durt’s initial foray into the public arena, sales of The Chronicle suddenly spiked again. The public were in a frenzy to get at the story behind the latest headline. Dracool, in his mausoleum, and Durt, in his plot, frowned at the news. Neither had given a new interview. They ventured forth to buy copies of the paper. The headline screamed:
MR. HARRY’S MOONLIGHT SERENADE TO CONGRESS
“By the light of a full moon, eccentric millionaire Mr. Harry pleaded his case to a very special Congressional gathering last evening. The address was deemed a howling success by one party member in attendance and the banning of the use of silver in ammunitions manufacture is now the issue of the day on Capitol Hill.”
Mr. Durt’s phone rang. It was Dracool.
“Our fifteen minutes are up, my friend.”
“So, truce?” Durt sighed.
“You’ve always been the brains, you know.” Dracool chuckled.
“Funny.”
“I’m taking the redeye to Transylvania tonight. Take care of yourself, Durt.”
“Yeah. You too. We’re bloody well two sides of the same night anyway, aren’t we?” Durt listened to Dracool’s laughter over the line before the other signed off. And that was that.

The End

A coal mine can be a creepy place, especially at night. When I'm on water truck, filling up the tank, I always have to remember to do a quick scan for bears, wolves or cougars before I get down. And usually I forget. So I've gotten a good scare more than once from being down on the ground in the pitch dark when a sudden movement not ten feet away startles me- it's always just a deer, but for a split second you don't know and it raises your hackles.
So I'm pretty sure I would have been freaked right out if I had been there last night (this week I'm on dayshift) when everyone heard the garbled but terrified voice of a little girl on the two-way radio screaming for help, saying something about a brown bear and possibly her dad being on the ground. Then a bloodcurdling scream, and nothing.
When we got on shift this morning various versions of this story started going around, and my first reaction was a little shiver, and, "Cool Hallowe'en ghost story!" and then, well, I don't know what to think. There's been no reports of missing little girls, no evidence of a mauling, nothing. They searched around and called the police last night, but what more can you do at night when you have no idea where even to begin looking?
And why is a little girl out at night in the wild? How did she happen to have a radio tuned to the mine's frequency? Is it a hoax? A tape? A ghost? If not, what? I talked to some of the guys who were working and they didn't think it was a fake- they were all freaked right out- enough to call the cops (who said there was nothing they could do without a missing persons report). I didn't even know if I should blog about it until there was more info. If you hear or know anything (like you can identify the horror movie the soundbite was taken from) let me know. There's been quite a few poachers hanging out, so maybe they were screwing around to get revenge for us calling the cops on them. Who knows? One thing's for sure- I'd way rather it was a poacher, or hell, even a ghost, than a real little girl.
Creepy.

Happy Four Years!
Pooing in the Woods turns 4 today. Yay for Homie Bear!

Here's a children's Hallowe'en story for you, based on a sketch Hermitchild drew me - she called it, "He Made it Himself". Enjoy:

Hallowe'en was approaching and all the cubs of Hudson Elementary School were excited to see the announcement on the school's bulletin board:

Costume contest!
Win a bag of lemon-flavored lemmings
for the most creative costume of the year
Dress up as your favorite monster,
movie character or mythological figure!
Wear your costume to school on Friday
for the lunchtime Hallowe'en party

"Wow!" said Berg. "I'm gonna be a pirate! No, a cowboy! How about you, Cousin H?"
Little Homie Bear replied, "I don't know- how can I choose? I have this cool book at home of all these mythological creatures, I think I will be something from that."
"Like a dragon or something?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"Ooh, ooh, how about a troll or a demon or a zombie? I changed my mind I'm not gonna be a cowboy I'm gonna be a vampire! No, a ghost! I mean, a werewolf. Yeah . . ."
Little Homie Bear left Berg to his quandary and wandered home, deep in thought. He didn't even stop to chase all the little seals who all took a vasive action when they saw the polar bear cub approach. When he arrived home to the ice cave, he asked his mom if they had any sewing stuff. She showed him some old scraps and needles and stuff that was still lying around from the previous occupants of the cave, an Inuit family.
Little H got to work, putting on his red goggles like a welder pulling down his mask. Fabric flew and needles broke as he tried to get his big bear paws to do the delicate motions required, but Little Homie Bear's concentration never wavered, his tongue sticking out thoughtfully. Every day that week he would go straight home from school to work on his costume.
Finally Friday arrived, and Little Homie Bear proudly donned his costume and went to school. Berg and all his friends were there, all dressed up in a dramastick variety of costumes.
"Wow, Berg," said Little Homie Bear, "I thought you were going to be a werewolf."
"Changed my mind," said Berg. "I decided I would be Cruella DeVille."
"Oh. You look great," said Little Homie, as he took in Berg's dyed black fur on half of his head and his feather boa.
"Thanks! But what about you, what are you supposed to be?" But just then the bell rang and everyone rushed to their desks. No one liked to be late for Mr. Baffin's class because he was a mean old bear. But class was a little unruly as everyone was too excited about the Hallowe'en party and contest. At last the lunch bell rang and everyone rushed to the gymnasium.
Hudson School's principal, Mrs. Aurora, went from student to student, praising their costumes and passing out candy. She was the judge of the contest. When she got to Little Homie Bear, she was perplexed.
"And what have we here, dear?" she asked.
"I'm dressed up as my favorite mythological monster," Little Homie Bear proudly said. "Legends say this unfathomable creature lives upside down beneath us on the other side of the world, and it has wings but it can't fly cause it's upside down so it just walks for miles and miles and they make noises like this: SCREECH SQUAWK and they eat, well, I don't really know what they eat. Pixies, maybe. Or lemon-flavoured lemmings, which is my favorite too."
Mrs. Aurora was no match for this verbal onslaught, and she was impressed by the little cub's enthusiasm, if not his sewing skills. "Did your mom help you make this costume?"
"No, I made it myself!"
"Well, very good job. First prize!"
Little Homie Bear, dressed as the mysterious and mythological penguin, shared his lemon-flavoured lemmings with his whole class.

On deviantArt there's a meme going around where artists offer free sketches to anyone who wants one (up to ten, usually) so long as any takers offer the same . So I've taken up a few people on their offers, but rather than sketches I offer poems in return, since my sketches would be a terrible blight on the world. Here is the sketch Travis Hanson did for me, since I was in a mastodony mood last week:



And here is a poem I wrote at the request of Hermitchild, who also drew me a sketch that I will try to write a poem for as well, so I won't show it to you yet:

Little lemming, lemme in, lemme in
Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin
I'm not a big bad wolf and you're not a little pig
So just open up your door, quit being such a prig
No, I'm sorry, but I'm a little indisposed
which is why you can't come in and the door is staying closed
Listen, little lemming, just a second then I'll go
You're probably a salesman so my answer still is no
Little lemming, little lemming, please just let me in
No! Now my patience is starting to wear thin
You keep standing at my door, yammering and talking
I say go away and still you keep on knocking
Sorry little lemming, I know I am a boor
But I won't go away until you open up that door!
I know what you did, how you let those lemmings die
You led them off a cliff by claiming they could fly
Now little lemming, lemme in, lemme in
So I can serve you this subpoena so you can pay for your sin!

The two typefaces are to distinguish voice, which you probably figured out on your own. I wanted to make use of the obvious lemming stereotype while still doing something a little unique.

The Storyteller by Travis Hanson

Okay so, the creative challenge: My Fourth Bloggiversary contest! The assignment I gave the grade 7s was to pretend they were the little boy in Travis Hanson's Storyteller print. What story is he telling that has all the forest creatures so enrapt? So your challenge will be the same, but with some parameters.
Write me a story about anything you want, so long as it has some element of the fantastic, or whimsical, or, well, you know what I like. Courtroom dramas? Not so much. Courtroom dramas where a vampire is suing a zombie and a robot is the judge? Perfect. Take advantage of the fact it's Hallowe'en!
Post the story on your blog or email it to me at nwaddell (at) gmail (dot) com and I will post it here if you don't have a blog. It's open to anyone so even if you are some lurker I have never heard of, or whoever. Tell your friends!
Deadline is flexible but my bloggiversary is the 22nd I think, so around there but definitely before Hallowe'en.
The winner will get to choose between an actual Storyteller print for their wall, or the brand new Seven Devil Fix CD!
Oh yeah, bonus points for using Dramastickly and other examples from the Grade 7 lexicon.

Here's some more examples of creative spelling from the stories I assigned:

sueiside
vilant screeming
enzone (end zone)
bodem (bottom)
hew (who)
ricking havoc
concer (conquer)
metiore
hypers space
19teenth
Take a vasive action!
Neatherlands (a country that is at war with its near neighbour China)
shalk (shock)
quiquly
And my favorite, because it's a whole new word which I challenge all of you to use in a sentence:
Dramastickly

This is way too much fun! About 40 done, 50 to go! Seriously, though- I've been very impressed. The point of this exercise was to get their creative juices flowing and to have fun. Not to circle spelling errors in red ink and stuff like that. I was lucky enough to have teachers who really recognized and nurtured the creative spark in me so the one thing I wanted to accomplish in my brief stint as a teacher was to encourage the students to be creative, and they definitely did that.
How about YOU guys? Are you up for a creative challenge?

Michelle dropped a phonebook-sized stack of papers on the counter- 90 stories for me to mark from my field trip to her Grade 7 classes last week. Wow, how do teachers and professors do it? But at least these are an absolute hoot to read. I marked ten of them tonight, only 80 more to go! Here are some early highlights:

"It was a very bloody war and swords were flying everywhere with hands still attached.// Xerxes wept and sobbed and cursed at the Spartans.// All of the Persians piled upon the rangers killing them all and blood was everywhere but at least only 1 Persian soldier died but they gave him a proper burial." -Connor

"Deranged Snowmen from New Jersey took over the north they hadn't seen us because we camoflaged our igloos." -Ryan (I also liked his spelling- "slottered" makes way more sense than the true spelling!)

"Societies ruined, houses burnt down, blood curdling screams of horror is all that you hear in my town.// We were about to give up when we heard a scream it sounded like 5 year old lil Jimmy." -Haley

"After 5 hours of battle the snowmen came out with some sort of snowball plasma cannon. It was so sophiscated our troops didn't know how to dismantel it." -Zach

Anyways, I was really impressed. The stories had a fair bit of "sophiscation" to them. Quite a few students chose to use this drawing by Travis Hanson as a springboard (hence the deranged Snowmen from New Jersey), while so far only one used this one, which of course, I expecially dig. And sadly, the bear in that story is an antagonist:

"But Fuzz (a coyote) wouldn't come; instead he fought the bear, bitting and scratching, but Fuzz was no match to a bear. The bear hit Fuzz so hard he went flying into a tree with bruises, bumps, lumps, and blood all over him. "Nooo!" screamed Lily and Billy-Willy. The bear walked away with a happy look on his face, like he had accomplished a really hard task." -Carissa

Happy Thanksgiving- I'm Thankful For Elephants!
And for you non-Canucks, Happy Second Monday in October. Michelle and I went down to Calgary for some family, food and fun. It was great. So, know what I think is cool?
Elephants. According to the May 1991 issue of National Geogrpahic that Michelle let me steal from her classroom the other day, there was once a four-tusked species of proto-pachyderm called Primelephas, as well as mammoths and mastodons and other very cool mumakiloids. From that issue:

Of all the truly colossal beasts that once walked the planet, only these two remain [the African and Asian elephants). And they are disappearing even as we are just beginning to learn about their lives.

In the 20th century alone, more than ten million elephants died at the hands of humans. Sad, hey? But so familiar as to be cliche.
Anyways, I bought some cool-looking comics to see if maybe some Elephantmen get a little revenge.

Now I Know What Scares a Bear

I can stand up to and stare down a raving mad coal miner who's got fifty pounds on me. But a room full of gregarious giggling grade 7's, well, that's a little frightening. And then multiply that by three and you're looking at nine years of nightmares for me. Michelle had me in as her special guest speaker for her schoolkids today.
Actually I'm exaggerating- it wasn't scary, it was fun. Though I honestly don't know how my wife can do that every day. Crazy.
I spoke on the art and elements of storytelling, and I read them my Yeti story I blogged about last week. (The mp3 of my reading at the Gathering is online, if you're interested.) I also read this old poem, they liked the line about the poo crapping. I even assigned homework! Michelle said I could, but when I mentioned how we could mark them next week after Thanksgiving she stopped me and said, "No, YOU can mark them next week. All ninety of them. Have fun!" I basically said they could write a story about anything they wanted, so long as they could identify the conflict in it. I showed them some of Travis Hanson's artwork to inspire them a bit, and let them go. I look forward to marking them!
And, uh, if you see my autograph for sale on eBay, well, I tried to explain I wasn't actually a famous writer, but . . .

Homie Bear on Holidays!
Yup, so, I needed a vacation. Because of my four-day shift rotation, taking one set off gives me twelve days of freedom. Pretty good deal. This is already my third day off. Heading to Calgary for Thanksgiving, but until then I'm just hanging out here at home, doing some writing, some reading, some running and some relaxing.
Did I say running? You betcha! Ever since Michelle's half-marathon I have been running pretty steady and I'm loving it. Oh yeah and working out while watching Samurai Jack cartoons on DVD, too.
On the writing front, I'm working on a short story that required me to reread Pierre Berton's Klondike, which was no chore because it is easily one of my favorite books of all time. You should read it- your life will be enriched. Seriously. I finished that up today and now I can go on to something I've been saving for just this occasion- Dan Simmons' Olympos.
Come to think of it, last week at work I read a sci-fi classic that I'd be willing to bet influenced Simmons enormously- Walter M. Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz.
Well, I have some relaxing to do so I'll leave you with a cool, kinda halloweeny excerpt from another classic sci-fi writer, Fritz Leiber (not Leiberwitz!), from his essay "A Defense of Werewolves".

You think that everything that thrill's (sic) been done, that there's no more true eeriness in life, but just a wearisome atomic round, and that the future . . . belongs to some pragmatic, plodding breed who never heard Pan pipe or feared the darkness that's between the stars? That is to laugh! Pass me the wine-skin. And yet that's just how I feel part of the time.
But how untrue! When each new fact, like an old witch, has as familiar some new mystery, when each conquered realm opens a new wilder, wider frontier, when man's about to leap the planets . . .
Open your eyes . . . and you will see wonders undreamed, innumerable . . . Wonder as great as in archaic times made gleaming eyes by rocks like these at Stonehenge and in the darkling woods where satyrs danced.

Wow, look at the time! It's October! My favorite time of year. In a few weeks, Pooing in the Woods will turn four years old. Soon, I will be able to form whole sentences and even begin to read and comprehend simple stories. Oh, and hockey season starts. Also, the world turns its attention to the underworld, the dark underbelly of the collective unconscious, the horrific and the unwholesome. Monsters! Hallowe'en! Candy!
How's this for monsters in the basement- at the University of Alberta (my Alma Mater) researchers have accidentally discovered a new species of Icthyosaur! National Geographic has the details.

Bill Bryson! At the Royal Alberta Museum on October 31st! Tickets are $5, so if you're not halloweening, or working (like me) you can see one of the finest, funniest authors around. He'll read from The Life & Times of the Thunderbolt Kid .

An Interview with Phil Carnehl, the Rebel Penguin



Last year I came across a gorgeous illustration of King Kong in a space suit, bashing UFOs rather than biplanes. I loved it, and knew I had found a brilliant artist I would be honored to work with. So I commissioned him to illustrate my poem "Robot's Cove" for when I read it at G-Arts last year. He promptly delivered a beautiful and perfect piece, with exactly the right quality of mystery and wonder I was trying for in the poem.



We collaborated again with the story from last night, about the Yeti and the Yak. I believe this young gentleman has a bright future, and I am pleased to present an interview with the artist.

First of all, who are you? I'm Phil Carnehl, a lifetime resident of California trying my best to make a living off of what i love to do.

Where does your screen name Rebel-Penguin come from? Um i'm sure these questions usually have funny answers but Rebel Penguin came about in my last term of college. Had some extra time left after completing my final animation and wanted to add a cool logo and made up company name to the beginning of it so i designed my current logo and came up with Rebel Penguin Productions. Always liked penguins and i got a lot of good response from the design so it stuck.

When (and how) did you get started in art? I've been drawing literally my whole life but never really pushed myself to go futher with it until after highschool. Found a great art college to go to and the teachers really inspired me to reach for the stars so i've been doing my best to improve ever since.

What tools or media do you use? I start off everything with the basic pencil and paper and from there ink and color it in Illustrator CS2. I've also been breaking into Photoshop and Flash a bit.



What inspires you? Other artists, nature, i like to make people laugh so anything i can make fun of without insulting anyone is always inspiring.

What do you do to get the creative juices flowing? I usually flip through comics, maybe read a few bible passages and of course pray, if asking God to help me in my work doesn't get the art flowing i usually assume that means He's got something else for me to do at the time.

What are some goals or dreams you have? I would love to work with Genndy Tartakovsky (Samurai Jack creator) or Butch Hartman (Fairly Odd Parents) or both someday. It would also be awesome to create a cartoon series of my own at some point in my life.

Any advice for other artists? I'm sure you've heard it before but never stop learning, take every opportunity you have to learn from artists around you and even more importantly never stop drawing, don't let a day go by without putting your pencil to paper and creating something, anything, if you love what you do don't let yourself ever run dry.

What artists do you admire and learn from? Again Genndy Tartakovsky and Butch Hartman are both big inspirations, both guys with big ideas who had the heart to press on and make things happen. I also enjoy the work of Ben Caldwell, Craig McCracken and Deviantart's very own Dapper Dan.

Are there any words of wisdom you live by? I'm not in any way perfect but i try to live by knowing putting faith in myself is pointless because alone i will always let myself down, but putting faith and trust in God, the one who made me who i am, is the only way to success and happiness.

Do you think there is such thing as yetis or sasquatches? Definitely, the thought that we've discovered every creature alive on this planet is ridiculous, i'm sure there's more out there just waiting to be found out.

Thanks Phil! By the way, he's open for commissions, so head on over to his deviantArt page for details. I'll leave you with Phil's newest piece, The Least Scary Dragon:

Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!
Tomorrow evening at 6PM I will be reading a brand-new children's story (by me) at the Gathering (15620 95 Avenue). It's about a bomible snowman. So if you live in the Edmonton area come on out, it will be a good time- aside from me, the current house band plays some great Irish-style church drinking songs. Here's a little teaser image of the story to hopefully get you curious.