#Highwood pass

[radarland]

Arethusa fresh snow Panorama by John Andersen Via Flickr: 3 frame landscape panorama 35mm

[immersetravel]

Hiking Picklejar Lakes Trail in Kananaskis Country

Picklejar Lakes Trail is a 10.6 km out-and-back trail in Kananaskis Country. It is part of the Sheep and Highwood trail report. The trail includes an elevation gain of 625 metres, which I would consider to be relatively consistent until you reach the pass just above the lake. The trail is not marked or maintained, but is in good condition overall. While there is a consistent climb throughout the…

[reginacooks]

Day 365. The End.

I’ve decided to make cheesecake as a send-off to this blog. I cannot think of any good reason why cheesecake should not be the cake-of-celebration for having reached my goal of creating something delicious every day for one year. Cheesecake was my sister’s favorite, and she died a year ago in March, bypassing a global pandemic by one week. Every memory I have of the countless celebrations in her home include a cheesecake. Cheesecake was my father’s favorite. He grew up on New York-style cheesecake, and he made sure my mother had a Lindy’s Cheesecake recipe when they married in 1963. My mother made good on her promise to feed him with love, and cheesecake. My mother’s birthday was in March. She taught me how to make a cheesecake using her large, ceramic mixing bowl in our kitchen in Ohio. I cannot think of cheesecake without thinking of my mother. The pandemic started in March and brought us to another March. All roads lead us to cheesecake. 

One week into the pandemic and toilet-paper humor, I decided I would use the next 365 days to cook and bake, and write about it. Aside from a few months when yeast was sparse, we lacked for nothing, including toilet paper. Unbelievably, and faster than I thought one year could pass, I have reached the end of my goal. I needed a thing to grab on to at the start of this pandemic, something separate from teaching. True, I was tired at the end of some days and faced this goal reluctantly. Or worse, there was a day when I’d already gone to bed. I closed my eyes then moments later remembered my blog. But I dragged myself to the couch and sitting position anyway. Not long ago, after watching a family movie, it was close to midnight and I said to my kids, “My blog!” Ethan sat nearby. “Quick mom! It’s ten minutes to midnight. You can do it!” I shared some pictures and words of the food I’d made that day and at 11:57, clicked on “Post.” Mostly I felt like I was writing into a black void, then unexpectedly a friend would email or text indicating they were reading these posts. I was glad someone was reading, but I guess that wasn’t the point. All along I knew I was doing this for me, to brighten my days and bring on a spot of joy.  

The cooking, baking, recipe searches, taking pictures, and writing helped to define my life this year. I’ve thought a lot about why the act of cooking and baking is important to me, too. Once, many years ago, a couple of friends were on a road trip and they stopped at our home for dinner. That night I happened to be making pasta with cauliflower and tomato sauce, garlic and cheddar cheese, a pretty standard week-night meal in our house. They dug into that food like it was their last drop of sustenance on the long journey ahead, even though they were only traveling by minivan from one state to the next. They exclaimed and wanted the recipe and so thoroughly enjoyed that simple fare, it seemed as if it had been many moons since they’d eaten a homemade meal. Making dinner that night, I would never have anticipated their reaction to it.    

I think about the times I’ve been fed by others. A long time ago, for one year, I worked in a school in Highwood, Illinois, an old town with a large Italian population. The secretary of my school was a short, slight-framed, older Italian woman with whom I had a special connection. She had worked at the school for maybe her entire career. I complained to Vera once about the reading curriculum in first grade that didn’t use real children’s literature. Same old story. I hinted that I was going to talk to the principal about it. This was my first teaching job and she warned me against that. I’ll never forget her words. “You don’t talk about books to someone who doesn’t read.” She came into my room once as I was reading a story aloud to my students, and she paused to listen. Later she told me I was “the real deal.” Ah, to be seen by another person. Even if only briefly. 

Vera and her husband were making pasta dumplings, she told me one day, and she’d like to have me over for lunch. When I went across the street and knocked on their side door, I entered their kitchen where they were filling dumplings with cheese and meat, trays of fresh pasta, dough, and flour spread out on the small kitchen table. The scene was intimate and homey, as traditional as any holy ritual, and I was invited to pull up a chair. It was the first time I’d eaten homemade pasta and I remember it still.   

I have put a permanent place card next to my heart of the people who have fed me in my life. Homemade food is worth marveling at. And for me it brings back memories of the people I’ve enjoyed it with, and of other ways they’ve fed me. Vera fed me fresh pasta and there have been times over the years when my confidence suffered and I would go back to that one-liner she also fed me. “You are the real deal.”  For years I hung my hat on those words. I am the real deal. And I thought they must be so because a wise woman who read books, whose name meant truth, and who had feather-light Italian dumplings at her fingertips spoke them. 

We just never know how feeding others can have an impact, how words or deeds can take hold in our psyche, like a fortune cookie message we keep in our wallet forever. A long time ago a friend was visiting me in a house I lived in near the ocean. I packed us a picnic lunch and off we went. Years later she referenced those tuna fish sandwiches as being the best ones she’d ever had. Say what? She was a new mom and had her baby with her at the time. She was probably desperate for someone to care for her for a few moments and maybe that came in the form of my preparing a simple lunch, which she never forgot. I doubt it was just because of the sandwiches. 

I enjoy sifting through the recipe box of my food memories. Sometimes when I’m searching for a soothing thought to put me in a state of calm, I’ll think about something wonderful that I’ve eaten with a person whom I love. Often, we’re outdoors. A memory comes of pausing for a break on a hike in Ireland with new found friends, eating a sandwich and an apple, leaning against a fence and looking out at a wet, green field speckled with sheep. Or enjoying pizza and a cold beer on a sunny hilltop in Belgrade at a cafe on the edge of the forest. A giant swing on the property served to entertain our children while my husband and I grabbed a few moments of peace. Once, my family and I were staying the night at a simple hut during a trek in Ethiopia. We sat on the roof of the hut and watched as baboons scrambled toward their caves on the slope of a cliff, and we held hot tea and bread given to us as a sign of welcome by our hosts. Clasping that tea, we knew we would be taken care of during the night in that foreign spot. 

A chocolate eclair always reminds me of my father. I can hear him saying, “Oh boy,” smiling and looking down at the pastry display inside the food hall at Harrods of London, wide-eyed like a kid again in New York City. He bought us both a picnic that day and we enjoyed it in St. James Park. A few years later he was left five thousand dollars in the will of an uncle and used that to send me to cooking school in New York. He wanted me to have a skill and set me up for life. I learned many skills at cooking school, but none as valuable as the ones I learned in my parents’ kitchen. Love and food are intermingled. There was hardly a joyful, happy occasion in our home growing up without it involving something delicious. The memories I have of the food enhance the memories of my father’s laugh, my mother’s smile, my older siblings arriving for the holidays and the love that we all shared.     

My mother delighted in simple, good things. When I was a teen I remember her sneaking up to her bedroom for a little solitude, a glass of brandy and a little dish of peanuts in hand, a book tucked under her arm. She’d say she was going upstairs to have her party before bed. On weekend mornings she’d make pancakes. She had a knack for turning the ordinary into something special. She would make a pancake shaped out of the first letter of our name, large and covering the whole plate and recognizable as my very own. Neighborhood kids would wait by the backdoor for their pancake, too. An L for Lenny, a J for Jimmy. I’ve stored away hundreds of food memories of my mother, and I pull them up often. Her cheesecake, her smile, her sly grin when she sneaks another piece. 

Before my sister, Raissa, died a year ago, I flew out to stay with her in her home. It was the last weekend that I ever stayed in her house, the house that was a foundation for me—for all of our family—for so many years. This was the last weekend that I would ever see her home as it was, her home crowded with the beloved artifacts of her life. And beloved to us, too. We all knew every nook and cranny of that home so well. The family photos, the hundreds of books that lined the shelves, the afghans and dishes and vases and fireplace mantel and coffee mugs. I cried openly and loudly the night before I left, knowing that this would be the last time I would be in this space that was my second home. “My home is your home,” my sister always said to me. But the house would be sold and I would never have this as my second home again, and the next time I visited this town, my sister would be gone. I looked around feeling the shock, like a rug was being pulled out from under me, but it wasn’t just a rug. It was every precious thing in sight.  

One morning during my last weekend with her she was sitting up in her chair reading her newspaper, as she did every day, and I asked her if she wanted some breakfast. She had hardly been eating, so I didn’t expect her to say yes, but she put the paper down in her lap and looked up at me and smiled and said yes. Feeling hungry made her look so healthy. So I went into her kitchen and made her toast and scrambled eggs, simple comfort food. Our father was the Scrambled Eggs King. He cooked them slow and steady, all throughout our growing up. It was his specialty, we all knew. So I made them the way Daddy made them, no recipe needed for the dashes of good humor and love. She ate them with such pleasure, like she had not eaten in a long time, smiling up at me in thanks. I was feeding her, like she had fed me for years and years. We fed each other. I know I added joy to her life—she told me how much she loved me every time we were together—and she was my personal cheerleader, cheering for me every single step of every single way. I will live the rest of my days with the gifts she gave, and the memory that I made her comfort food before her own long journey home.  

[azerothpeacecouncil]

During the Remembrance of Undercity, we had a segment titled The Ceremony of Embers and Spirit in which Forsaken (and allies) were welcome to toss that which they want left behind to burn in a symbolic fire and help them move forward in their unlife or life. Anything from mementos from long past, banners or tabards or anything that they feel no longer belongs with them and no longer represents them. All were allowed to do this, but focus was put on Forsaken first. We had all who wanted their items showcased fill out a doc so we can share and forever view these small, but impactful, character moments. Down below is everyone who chose to have their moment showcased and what their feelings are that went with it as well as the item itself.

Due to the length of this post, please hit the Read More to view all items that have been tossed into the flames.

Caleb Mcswain Item: A blue star moss boutonnière. This item represented resentment, hatred for Caleb's undeath, and fear of the Horde. Shandras Korpus Item: A stuffed animal "...I can't possibly atone for the murderous rage my Dark Lady once inspired, but I can surely commit to do better." Silffred Queen Item: A patched and beaded Undercity tabard. Silffred leaves his spot, a ratty, patched tabard of the Undercity draped in his hands. He tries to steel himself, and fails. From the crowd, a death knight comes to his side; a -Night Elf- death knight. She whispers something to him and, together, they drop the tabard onto the smoldering bonfire. The Knight puts her hand on his shoulder, and Silffred raises his head to address the crowd. "I cast off my tabard for the final time, and with it... The piece of me that could end up no where else... But the flames." Jarisold Acridwell Item: Wedding ring Jarisold steps up quietly and pulls out a ring. He looks at it with a solemn expression, signing slowly with his free hand. "I have little to say here except I'm sorry. I wish I could have protected you." He grips it one last time, looking over it as he casts it into the fire. Nicolai Wyther Item: A Leatherbound notebook full of old alchemical research. Nicolai looked down at his old leatherbound book. Inside were a mix of notes, research and alchemical studies he had done many years ago for the Forsaken cause. Some were helpful, but many used for harming those who dared to mess with the Forsaken. "I was naive. I didn't know any better." he muttered under his breath as his veil covered his sorrowful face. "Years of my life were written down in this book I used to be proud of it...but when I see this book on my mantle, I don't think of the time I spent with my old Order or the happy memories." his voice trembled. "I only see regret. Anguish!" He opened the book to take out a dried out Arthas Tear, holding it between his skeletal fingers "And I must...move on." As he tossed the book into the fire. Donovan Morris Wightborn Item: A Forsaken insignia of excellence and a medallion with a red soulstone in it. Donovan pulls up a faded insignia from his bags. "Today, I burn two pages of history from my present so they may join the ashes of the past. First, an insignia of excellence given to me by the Dark Lady during the Gilneas campaign. With this, I burn what little respect I had for the Banshee... Along with a deep resentment for the people of Gilneas." He drops his insignia into the flames "And then..." he grasps at a silver necklace with a cracked red gem around his neck and pulls, snapping the chain as he removes it. He stares at it for a moment, in his hand, and holds it up "A soulstone medallion which was once used to twist my soul into undeath, and that I then used to imprison and punish the necromanceress responsible. With this, I let go of an old bitterness and drive: Vengeance. I slew her and her soul is long gone. No need for this to remain and remind me of her. I am Forsaken, driven by the glory and growth of our people, not unfocused hatred of an old witch." with that, he tosses it into the fire and watches it burn. He thought 'Donovan Morris died for Lordaeron. Donovan Wightborn claimed vengeance for him. Now we both live, in this glorious dark rebirth, as Forsaken.' Nettie Ka'an Item: Insignia of a Forsaken soldier Nettie steps foward and takes out a small, shiny object. "This insignia represents my time as a soldier on the Gilnean-Forsaken front. I had just been raised, and unlike many of you, felt little loyalty to the Banshee Queen."She pauses. "I joined to try to preserve my home, Gilneas, despite the Forsaken's onslaught. Since then, I have met and bonded with more Forsaken than I had thought I ever would. This insignia is a reminder of a past era, of distrust towards my own people." She continues. "We have all lost our homes, in one or way another. It is time to move forward." She gently drops the insignia into the fire, where it glows, and rejoins the circle. Geniya Zigzy Item: Old Undercity military ID card Geniya tosses the card into the fire, and it quickly flares up and away. "I used this only once since the fall of Undercity, as a way to pass myself off as the officer in Sylvanas' forces that I once was, for the purpose of sneaking some dissenters to safety. We are now ALL safe. We are free to be whoever we are, with no one watching over us from above. I will never need to use this card again." Benemus Crungey Item: Wedding Ring & Silver Dagger Benemus steps up, twisting a tarnished ring off of his finger and dropping it into the fire. "The last trappings of when I was alive," He said simply. "Attachment to someone who has spoken of her hatred for what I have become. I do not need this reminder that only makes me upset." Then he removes a dagger from his pack, and drops it in as well. "Be well on your journey into the shadows." Édouard Chaudron Item: Old Academy Frying Pan Anger at his Father who didn't support his culinary pursuits nor his soup kitchen for the poor of Lordaeron. His father would be the ghoul that sent him to his unlife, something which he clung to in anger prior to this event. Tossing it was to help let go of his difficult feelings in regards to his relationship with his father and to move past the guilt, doubt and other painful emotions that had him second-guessing his chosen path in life + unlife. Canthar Item: Remains preserved in jars. "I no longer have need for these. That competitive abomination assembly were a thing is disgusting. That I got caught up in it... Regardless. Dead should only be raised willing. These morbid cadavers no longer fascinate me..." Hylden Caspian Levanthorpe Item: An amethyst sphere (a speakstone) Hylden holds in his hand a stone. A beautiful amethyst sphere. Staring down at the thing, the storm of emotions that brewed on his features, in his eyes spoke to something deeper than he could express in words. He closed his fingers around it, and took a breath, staring down at the flames. “This was a gift, from a man I loved more than anythin’. Anythin’ I ever could have described, anythin’ I thought I could have felt. In that awful darkness, he called me a sweet thing. A mouse. That man would have had us believe that he was a snake. A serpent. Clever and connivin’. ...but snakes kill their prey quickly. No.” His eyes flicked upward, burning brightly, focusing directly on the man. “That man was a glue trap. Unfortunately for him, this mouse didn’t stay stuck. His grip was far too weak.” He glanced back down to the fire, opening his hand and staring back into the depths of that sphere, glowing with a life all its own. As his eyes turned from the fire, he lifted his hand and tilted it to the side, letting it roll from his palm as he said, “Goodbye. I’ll always love you. Though I’ll never know if it was my choice or not, will I?”

Vynaendra Highwood Blood Elf Item: Insignia of Sylvanas Vyn feels anger seeing the image of her face. Anger and disgust and sadness. Bagorpagork Mok’nathal A very old tome containing warlock spells and rituals Gork was clutching onto an old tattered book. A black cover with fel green demonic lettering and symbols. He held it out, giving it one last look before tossing it into the flames. "As time passes, sometimes you learn that the things that made you strong, the things that help you win, come at a price. The Alliance may have essentially lost that day. But it cost a great price for the Forsaken. I think uh, Mr Eralos put it quite really... I have begun to question my own power, the price I may someday come to pay. I have decided I do not need this power anymore. It is time to move on" he ended with a small smile. Lembri Vulpiana Shal’dorei Item: Menagerie Insignia Lembri removes an insignia from her satchel, bearing the mark of Suramar's Royal Menagerie. It's been battered with age, and no longer shines like the rest of the silver that adorns her. "I used to be afraid... I thought that I had to help protect the creatures of the outside from their own h-home... I'll never be able to forgive myself fully for the animals still trapped in that sick circus but... T-This is the start of redemption." The nightborne tosses the medal into the fire, feeling great relief as it disappears amongst the flames. Sorrel Silverblade Kaldorei Item: A rosary; an innumerable amount of red strings Sorrel approaches the fire, holding a rosary befitting a priest or priestess of the Church of the Holy Light. Its beads are made of dark, worn wood and yellowed ivory, the strand of silk they're strung on yellowed and brittle. At the end is a truesilver holy symbol, tarnished with age. He opens his other hand, filled with tiny red strands of string, curled and folded as if they'd been tied into position for a long time. He clears his throat a bit. "...you deserved better. A better life. A better son. I killed in your name, as if death or life were a game I could succeed in." He lowers his eyes and ears, gritting his teeth. "...I know better now. Life and death mean much more to me, in each of their forms. To the Light I pray you find solace." He lets the rosary fall into the fire. Sorrel stares intently into the flame. "To the Shadows I pray that they may guide my hand so that I may serve my fellows honourably. To learn from the mistakes of my youth." He lets the red strands fall. "To move past my sins." With that, he returns to his friends. Geniya, on behalf of Gornagh Starcrusher Undead Orc Item: Ebon Blade Warbanner Gornagh gave Geniya the banner to toss into the flames as a way of finally severing himself from the Ebon Blade, an organization he left very abruptly after realizing that his morals no longer aligned with theirs. He wishes to feel free of reminders that make him angry, for a group that he believes is no longer worth his energy to think on. Kuyr Driftwood Tauren Death Knight Item: Decaying old Saronite gauntlet Said: "Watching time pass me by...I should let go of this and work on my bonds. What it will bring with my new tribe. I don't know. But it's better then being alone." Thought's: *The pain and suffering is still unbearable. I can't break free fully. Maybe this will help me fight more to be myself. But I still wish at times just...release.* Litharial Solstar Sin’dorei Item: A single, grey arrow with raven fletching. Approached the bonfire that blazed with the ashes and memories of those that fed it before her. She drew a single, grey arrow with raven fletching, so unlike her golden ones. Examining the arrow a moment, she spoke quietly, "This belonged to my sister, Asarial. We fought together at the battle for Lordaeron when the Alliance broke through the gate, she told me to go first to make sure the wounded were well cared for. Her selflessness cost her her life. And it nearly broke me. Fast forward to the relevancy of this story, I found myself before the city of Ogrimmar, ready to liberate the city. However, it became apparent that loyalists were sabotaging the weaponry." Takes a moment to sniffle, a lone tear falling down her cheek. "It was then that I found the thing of my nightmares. My sister, who was raised as a Dark Ranger to serve the Banshee Queen. It was my duty to defend Saurfang's army and I did so, quickly slaying the two other Dark Rangers with her, and after a terrible duel...her." Her eyes grew ever luminescent as they reflected the warm light of the bonfire. "She lost..." Looking at the arrow once again, she turned it over in her hands, "I understand this ceremony is to honor our Forsaken brothers and sisters. But I can never truly hate the Dark Rangers, for what became of them. I cannot even hate Sylvanas, for she will always be remembered as a hero to Silvermoon for her sacrifice. So it is my hope, that the Dark Rangers and Sylvanaas find their way into this pyre. My sister, at least, shall find hers." Litharial placed the arrow gently, almost reverently, in the consuming fire. The flashed quickly licked the arrow, turning a dark purple where the arrow touched the flames, before blazing a righteous orange again. "Al diel shala, Asarial. Elor bindel felallan morin'aminor, Belore'dorei. Shorel'aran, sister." Dragway Orc Item: An old royal crest banner of the Rally family, it's dark blue banner with a falcon holding a mason hammer and pickaxe in its talons Dragway said this about the banner "This was the crest of Baron Danton Rally, who was a warden to many internment camps for the orcs, I spent my childhood as a slave under him, he was slain when Thrall came to liberate us. I toss my grieve for the child who was living in dirt and mud, and give hope to the adult still standing here. May the orcs...no...no other races, never be put into chains ever again!” Gotosh, on behalf of Katamar Orc Item: A red hair ribbon Gotosh clutched the red hair ribbon in his palm, looking down to it. He thought of what it meant to his friend, a connection to people who are long gone and their souls lost. Part of him didn’t want to toss it into the fire, feeling the weight it carried. But he promised to do this and with one toss the ribbon joined the other items to be burned away. May they rest, he thinks, may he rest too.

[d3wheelworks]

highwood pass: not even close https://www.instagram.com/p/COVekBzhQi0/?igshid=11wqurjuzgboh

[wishballoonss-blog]

@vagabondhearts // Highwood Pass

[theprophet-upinsmoke]

                          CONTROVERSIAL BILL REPEALED

September 3rd, 1980

The controversial Magical Creature Registration Act has been repealed as of last night, in a vote even more narrow than the one that lead to its passing. This fulfills one of the campaign promises of current Minister of Magic Evangeline Kent, who has long been calling for the loosening of restrictions placed on magical creatures. 

Kent’s critics note how soon this comes after the deaths of the Registration Act’s architects, Ministry official Lyall Lupin and part-Veela radio host Camilla Fawley. One such man, Martin Highwood, has gone as far as to accuse Kent’s administration as being behind both deaths. The Daily Prophet has been able to neither confirm nor deny such accusations.

On the other hand, creature rights activists point out that those who have already been forced to register themselves will still in some cases be suffering the consequences of being outed. It is unclear what Kent’s administration could do to resolve those concerns.

@upinsmoke-rp

[the-world-travelers-blog]

Misty Range and Highwood Pass, Alberta Canada [OC] [4970x3313].

[mx-spoike]

💛🧡💚 #nature #kananaskis #foothills #mountains #sky #fall #autumn #forest #alberta #field #rockymountains (at Highwood Pass) https://www.instagram.com/p/CjohkT4p35V/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gregglatz]

Calgary is where riding a bike really came together for me. Huge thanks to #yycbike peeps and local bike shops (especially BikeBike). Last year, after I double summitted Highwood Pass, everything on a bike started to feel a bit been there, done that. It was a bummer. Super stoked to dig into some new rides here in Edmonton. (I’ll definitely miss Calgary tho.) #yegbike #fasterpastor #ridebikes #bikelife #bikeeverywhere #ilovemybike #pedalpower (at Constable Ezio Farone Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cc6gJoapbCL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[canadavisaonlineapplication]

A rewarding one-day hike that can be covered in either direction, the Pocaterra Ridge is best started at Highwood Pass parking lot and finished at Little Highwood Pass. Although you will be required to arrange a vehicle that will drive you up to the parking lot, taking this route will save you from covering a steep elevation gain of 280 meters, so it is well worth it! #pocaterraridge in #canada #visa #online #application #eta #tourist #business #entry https://www.canada-visa-online.org/the-top-10-canadian-rocky-treks/ (at Pocaterra Ridge) https://www.instagram.com/p/CbAfzKpPsFj/?utm_medium=tumblr

[discnchant]

Walking through Corona following the variety show proved to be just as headache inducing to the eldest Charming as it had been the day before. With each passing minute Lord Citrouille wondered again and again if it had truly been worth it to attend this blasted festival. Couldn’t he have sent his regards to the Countess in a nice letter and instead returned to Highwood Manor where he could spend a long weekend hunting in his lands and horseback riding? He wouldn’t have to deal with crowds or people other than his loyal tenants. He could have a lazy, carefree couple of days away from society, his pushy mother, and all the frivolous nonsense that now occupied his day to day existence. But of course it would be uncouth for Citrouille to not be in attendance during one of those large and important societal events, so he begrudgingly ignored that call to run off home and instead remained there traversing the cobbled streets of Corona.

He had almost forgot he was in the company of his younger brother, too busy sneering at rambunctious children that wandered a bit to close to the Earl as he walked down the lane. Last thing he wanted was grubby child hands on his refined clothes. Pulling out his handkerchief to swipe at an imaginary dirt spot on his outer pant leg, Henry leveled a half bewildered and half annoyed face at his younger brother’s outburst. Not that he found Finn annoying, exactly, but he certainly didn’t understand what possessed him to ask Henry, of all people, such a thing. “Why don’t you ask mother or father that question?” he deflected instead, because surely the married ones in their family would have a better answer for him than the perpetual, never touched by the tenderness of affection, bachelor.

Replacing his handkerchief neatly to his pocket, the elder Charming heaved a sigh as his gaze returned to the road before them. This was a topic he was neither versed in or interested in, and as much as he did care for his brother, Henry couldn’t bring himself to even try to care about the topic to make a conversation of it. But when Finn persisted in speaking of Sonya, clearly the object of his confusing emotions, Henry was given no choice but to attempt to approach the subject. He could only hope his ill temper did not keep him from delicately speaking with his brother. “Then just tell yourself you do. I’m sure eventually it will stick. Most men carry on like that, anyway,” he said in his usual bored, monotonous tone. What else could he tell him? Oh I’m sure you’ll eventually fall in love with her, and you’ll lead a happy life! Please — to Henry, matrimony and romantic attachments were prisons which kept one from truly enjoying all that life had to offer. Why be tied down to some demure, prudish young lady when there were millions of others you could cleave unto when lustful and live freely without in between?

He knew, however, that such statement was insufficient and likely not what Finn was seeking from him, so Henry gave a moment to think and sigh again before once more carrying on. “Listen, they say time makes the heart grow fonder. And while I’m not sentimental, I can see this to be true. Surely with enough time and effort you’ll come to form some kind of attachment to your bride to be, but that is primarily up to you. If you wish to care for her, then open yourself to it. You will find something in her to cherish if you put your mind to it.” He looked around, feeling a bit peckish and wondering if his brother was likewise in need of sustenance or would simply go off on his own now that Henry spoke his bit. “Do you see a public house? I swore there was one down this way.”

Who: @discnchant​

When: May 27th, Day 2 of the Lantern Festival

“Henry, how do you know if you’re in love?” Finn posited to his brother. They were taking a stroll around town after the variety show. He had sat beside Sonya nearly the entire time and it had given him plenty of time to think.

And his thoughts had landed somewhere rather curious: with his marriage. At first the whole thing had seemed fraught with disaster, but now with every passing moment he began to dread the arrangement less and less. Of course, she was beautiful, that went without saying. But as they grew to know each other he discovered so much more.

She was brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Smarter than him perhaps and very few people would hold that honor. She was the kind of woman who he could easily see himself being lost in love forever.

But what was love? it seemed so obvious yet so far away.

“I know Sonya and I’s arrangement is of convenience and, well, other things, but I hope that I’ll love her one day.”

[d3wheelworks]

failed climb of Highwood pass. 🐻 🐻 🦌 🦌 🦌 🦌 🦌 🦌 https://www.instagram.com/p/CAiCc7IA1g9/?igshid=12tytp2hgxje5

[mikethebarberchicago]

ROMA CRAFT CROMAGNON AQUITAINE Price $6.80 Draw ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ Appearance ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ Burn ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ Aroma ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ Taste ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ I was recommended this cigar as I usually pass on cigar recommendations as I like what I like. However I’m being very hard on this cigar as it’s really really good. The AVO heritage and Liga Privada line is proof you can get a good cigar at $6-8 and a top notch one is only $10-13. I’m going have to add this to my “go to” ones. Reddish Colorado Ecuadorian Habano wrapper houses the RoMa Craft CroMagnon Aquitaine’s Cameroon binder which is filled with a special blend of Nicaragua tobacco with notes of spices and coffee. Highly recommended. #cigar #cigarlife #roma (at Highwood, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAdX4YGjJCk/?igshid=awnwcnnmw9pg

[patricksk]

Gravel mountain road. #photography #photooftheday #photoadaychallenge #canon7d #sigma150600 #project365 #calgary #yyc #mountains #nature #opcmag #travelalberta (at Highwood Pass, Kananaskis AB) https://www.instagram.com/p/CARhL92pYqT/?igshid=quj9yvsxpyot

[gregglatz]

Goodbye 2021 ...

And good riddance (but it wasn’t all bad)

2021 will be the year many of us want to forget. But like almost everything in life, it was a mix of good and bad. Second year of a pandemic … bad. Rollout of vaccines in record time … good. Good and bad go together.

As 2021 comes to a close, here are a few things that sparked gratitude in me this year.

Favourite achievement

I’ve blogged about my year-long fitness journey here. That’s definitely my biggest achievement in decades. In terms single-day events, it’s a tie. I completed a double-summit ride of Highwood Pass in June and I ran my first 5K (in Edmonton) in September. Both of these achievements felt like long shots when I began training for them. It felt great to get them done.

Runner up: my first-ever ride on river valley singletrack in Edmonton (on my birthday) was a blast. Broke my $200 saddle, but that was a small price to pay for finding a new buzz on a bike. Thanks to Dr. Darren Markland for initiating me.

Favourite media interview

I did a lot of media interviews this year (click here and scroll down to “Things I’ve said out loud”). My favourite was a live stream I did with caroooline_x (Caroline A***s) in the UK. Caroline is a former Jehovah’s Witness who is now an outspoken advocate for sex positivity. Her regard for the church is low, but she was happy to meet a minister who shared many of her points of view on church/religion and sexuality. Sadly, an Instagram bug killed the recording of our convo.

Runner up: Bill Macfarlane from CTV News Calgary got a kick out of our new sandwich board signs at Sanctuary Coffee.

Favourite music discovery

The Blue Stones are a Canadian blues rock duo based in Windsor, Ontario. Their studio recordings are a sonic treat, but their live shows have a raw energy that leaves you wondering how only two guys can put out so much sound. You’ll love their songwriting too, especially if you like your relationships on the edge. :) Check out L.A. Afterlife and One by One.

My baby's been on the run Americano and a loaded gun She's a baddie with a brain  and she loves the hunt so So I'm thinking that  my time is done

And if I make it out alive,  which I probably won't I think I'll marry that girl  and we'll hit the road Know a little hideout  on the coast we could go Move fast, honey,  don't get slow

I think I died  and woke up in L.A. I don't know how I wound up  in this place, no I think I died  and woke up in L.A. She asks me how that tastes  I said, "Honey, a-ok"

— L.A. Afterlife

Runner up: the name of the band is Cowboy Mouth. How had I not heard of this band until this year?!? I’ve always been equally fascinated by the showmanship of rock ‘n’ roll pioneer Jerry Lee Lewis and the gospel evangelists of the deep south (Jerry Lee’s cousin is televangelist Jimmy Swaggart btw). Fred LeBlanc, Cowboy Mouth’s lead singer/drummer, is both rolled into one. The band is proudly based in “New Orleans, Louisiana” (Fred will let you know several times in EVERY show). Check out Jenny Says (live) and I Believe.

Favourite food experience

On the way home from Highwood Pass in June, my riding partner suggested we pick up chef salads at The Palomino Smokehouse. That started my love affair with a friendly, affordable, pro-LGBTQ, pandemic-smart BBQ joint that isn’t going to end anytime soon (thanks, Vanessa). I eat mostly vegan these days, but I make an exception at The Palomino.

Runner up: downtown living comes with perks, and one of those perks is living in a block attached to Calgary’s Plus 15 network. I take the elevator down to the second floor and order take-away lunch at SoJi Sushi once a week. This is never going to be Calgary’s hottest sushi joint, but it’s super convenient and the owner is a great guy and an excellent sushi chef. (Veggie options available, but I usually order the salmon or tuna.)

Favourite new tool

Keys are the bane of my existence (I want to get a Tesla just because you don’t need a key to drive it). Until keys go the way of the dinosaur I need a good way to carry them and I discovered the Orbitkey key organizer at Madison & Page. The Orbitkey transforms your keys into a “a neat and silent stack” (great advertising copy). The secure locking mechanism is the best I’ve seen on this kind of device. The multitool (black, pictured) is handy too. My Orbitkey is black leather with blue stitching.

Runner up: I’ve been using some fancy wine bottle openers for the past twenty years and somehow overlooked the ingenious simplicity of the waiter’s corkscrew (or waiter’s friend). The two-step lever is the ingenious part. When I first saw someone use this corkscrew, I thought it was magician’s sleight-of-hand: ”Wait, what did you just do there?!? Why was it so easy to pop that cork?” Then, I realized all my old-style corkscrews didn’t have the two-step lever, which is why it was so much harder to get the cork to come out. You can see the two-step lever magic demonstrated here. 

Honourable mention: I’ve never been a fan of dryer sheets and never used them until I got an apartment-sized dryer that left my clothes smelling “damp.” The dryer sheets helped with the damp smell, but single-use sheets seemed wasteful (and I needed at least a couple per load). Also, all the different sheets I tried left my dryer filter coated in fabric softener, which made it hard (impossible) to clean the lint off it. So ... I bought myself a six-pack of dryer balls. Game changer. I put of few drops of Saje diffuser scent on one or two dryer balls and my clothes—actually, my whole apartment—smell great! No sticky lint on the filter either.

Thank you

When all is said and done, it's about the people in our lives. I’m grateful for the people in my life, especially those of you I met for the first time this year in Calgary, Edmonton, and beyond. Relationships are life-changing and the real reason why 2021 was actually a pretty great year for me.

Happy New Year! Here’s to great relationships and new adventures in 2022.

Want to read more? Check out Some Kind of Fight.