The end of winter in Calgary is like a mirage in the desert. It slyly offers up the illusion that a lovely spring is about to sprout with a bout of glorious warm days, only to cruelly make it vanish with a hasty plunge of the mercury, just when its arrival seemed imminent. In fact, April is my least favourite month in this town… I’m tired of my skis and eager to row and ride but endlessly thwarted by one snow squall after another instead. Continue reading
Over the years I’ve written, and spoken, ad infinitum (ad nauseum?) about the moment I first discovered my Olympic dreams. You know – the torch, the ’88 Olympics, Gaetan Boucher, speed skating – that whole bit. If it is possible to pinpoint the one little moment my heart started beating for skating, then I guess it would have to be when we stopped at that Petro-Canada to fill up on gas and I saw the poster advertising the 1988 Olympic Torch Relay. Similarly, I can pinpoint the one little moment my heart stopped beating for skating too.
I’ve been singing this song a lot lately. I can’t even look at the words without singing it in my head. It pretty much sums up the last two months of my life: summertime and the living is easy. Every once it a while I randomly belt it out at the top of my lungs… fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is hi-iiigh… Can’t you just hear it? I really like to draw it out, make the words last forever. I don’t think Scott appreciates my singing as much as I do, but that’s his problem.