Black Friday at 25

Today, July 31, is the 25^th anniversary of Black Friday, the Edmonton Tornado.

I was in downtown Edmonton that afternoon. My insights into this singular event are simple: I have none.

What I have is my story. It's not very exciting, but it is mine.

I downtown waiting for a friend to get off shift. I'd parked catercorner from the office building she worked in, had checked in to say I was there, and then went to a local market across the street.

It was sultry. The cool of the market was welcome. Nothing in the market caught my attention so I decided to do something else. I've long since forgotten what I was going to do.

It had clouded over. A few drops of fat, warm rain fell. I decided to change to running shoes before I went anywhere else. The pair I had on were suited to my job interview earlier in the afternoon and good weather, not a possible rain storm.

It was a block's walk to the parking lot at or near 103 St. and 103 Ave. During the two to three minutes I spent changing my shoes the wind came up, but it wasn't raining more than a drop.

I opened my car door.

The wind pushed it back.

I tried again.

I could not get out of my car.

I'm sure I could have gotten out the passenger side, but I decided to wait until the wind died.

For the next 45 minutes I watched as the sky turned dark and violent. Rain pelted down so hard I could hardly see though my windshield.

As it gradually lessened I watched cars on the avenue in front of me splash water over their tires and nearly to their windows. The vehicles were going slow. They still kicked up the water.

Was I scared?

No.

We'd had several violent storms in the days leading up to Black Friday. I quite enjoy the power and might of nature during them. I thought it was just another grand display of Nature's temper.

Once it calmed I went to see my friend and learned it had been a tornado. At that point no one knew much. No damage reported. No deaths.

We learned later the extent of it. I have nothing else to say about it. You can read about the death and devastation in the link.

This post serves but one purpose. It speaks to my desire to scratch my initials in scarred trunk of time and announce to any who will listen: I was there.

Gratitude Monday --The Little Bastard

The following may offend some readers.

Such is life.

I had a hitchhiker in my energy for quite some time. I am grateful to have gotten shed of it.

For the last several months I've been somewhat lethargic. I wrote it off to the beta blockers, winter weather, general laziness.

Gradually I noticed specific problems. Writing wasn't the fun it had been. My characters weren't talking to me. When I can't hear them in my head I can't write what they say on the page.

I lost interest in plucking around on my guitar. I became indifferent to reading.

I still wrote and read and was grateful, but lacked fire.

I hadn't successfully meditated or performed autohypnosis in several weeks. Maybe longer.

Last week I looked at my assorted gems: emerald, sapphire, ruby, topaz, aquamarine, and tanzanite, all beautiful and twinkling in the light.

The sight held no appeal.

Something awful had happened.

I went straight to a self –hypnosis session realizing I had to try a different method. I lit a candle this time, sat up, closed my eyes, and brought in lots of light before bringing in spiritual protection and going through a progressive relaxation.

That's when I found The Little Bastard.

An entity had attached itself to my throat chakra. It had been there for several months, I realized, and it was sucking the energy out of me.

Several months ago this chakra had closed. I left it to rest and then thought I'd opened it.

I was wrong.

The throat chakra handles communication. This entity was the reason I lost interest in the written word and in music, a form of communication in its own right.

I'm a Transpersonal Hypnotherapist. I know what to do in general for clinical depossessions though I've no training in it. I'd done one on myself about seven years ago.

I was able to send The Little Bastard to the light early last week.

My love of reading came back strong. I'm back to doing a rewrite I've largely ignored the last several months.

My finger pads are tender from strumming. I am filled with energy. As I write this I have a ruby around my neck.

In don't know how The Little Bastard got attached to me. It was a misguided soul. It needed help.

I am grateful I was able to help it, and I am especially grateful it is gone.

Photo-Finish Friday -- From the Ruins

Antigua, Guatemala is a city filled with churches. Many of them stand in ruins such as the one on the deep right.
The ruins are due to earthquakes and they'll stay ruined as the city is a World Heritage Site.

Thought for Food

The recent rain meant it's been too wet for my husband to work. This has kept him home and in the house as it's too wet for him to do anything outside.
When this happens he bakes.
He made a rhubarb and sweet cicely pie in the morning. It is resting comfortably in the refrigerator.
In the afternoon he turned his attention to coconut custard. He used coconut milk in it and had some left over and what could I think of to use it in?
I was in the process of telling him I couldn't think of a thing when it hit me: carrots.
I added it to a pot of steamed carrots and let them gently simmer for a few minutes.
This is what it looked like:

They go very well together.

It made an interesting counterargument to the Greek salad and homemade pita bread, chicken souvlaki, and tzatziki sauce in the rest of the meal.

As for the custard:

 Husband outdid himself.

It was hard to stop eating it.

And so ends a rainy day well spent.

Gratitude Monday --Golden Guest

I was busy at the computer yesterday when a flash of bright yellow outside the window caught my eye.
This goldfinch had perched on the cross piece of a pole we have outside and was sunning himself.
He got a bit more lively when I got my camera.

 He looked straight at me as I clicked away.


 He groomed a bit and posed some more and turned around a few times.

He looks quite pensive here.

I'm grateful for the visits from the birds and especially grateful this fellow perched close and posed for me.
The soft focus look is not intentional. I had to shoot through two door windows to not disturb him.

Vaccines, Autism, Whooping Cough, and Lies

Vaccines do not cause autism.
Not vaccinating can lead to death.
I've been moderately galled for a while now with the constant nonsense about vaccines being linked to, or rather outright causing, autism.
The doctor who trumpeted the link faked his research.
He admitted it.
He did it for money.

Now vaccines are out of favour with many. This has led to increased rates of whooping cough .
Now I am extremely galled as a  young child died . This lie led to fear which led to people not taking a simple precaution that would save lives.
 If you don't wish to be vaccinated that is your right. It's a free country, but understand this: there are consequences.
Others pay.
If you get sick and/or die because of your decision, that's fine. I don't care.
But when others get sick because of it, then as far as I'm concerned you've committed assault.

Why does this irritate me?
Because many people decide to forgo getting the shots for themselves or their children because some guy lied for money. His lie bred fear which is still being fed despite the fact it has no basis in reality. It'll be years before the anti-vaccination movement dies, if it ever does.

Negativity feeds on our emotions, and there's a great emotional pull to the idea that a shot causes autism. Fear is easy to believe.
The calm rational truth rarely has those kind of legs. There's no feeling accompanying it to hook on to.
Face it, this truth is dull.
Sadly, our only hope of getting the truth out that routine vaccinations are safe is to have more people get sick and/or die. It's horrible to contemplate, but without an emotional hook the truth will languish in a back room wondering when its turn will come to be heard.

Until then, all we have is the quiet, simple truth: vaccines do not cause autism and anyone who says so is perpetuating  a lie.

Photo - Finish Friday -- Quiet Cove

We went canoeing on  Birch Lake on the Monday of the Canada Day long weekend.
The lake is small and carved out of the forest. Few people bother with it unless they want to try for brook trout.
We decided to paddle around it, a trip that took about an hour.

Though small, it has a few islands and some quiet coves with plenty of birds. The water also featured plenty of stumps and branches to make for an interesting trip.

One of coves was a home for this Great Blue Heron.

We did our best to not disturb it.