Long Time, No Updates...

Sorry for the lack of any updates! The unexpected hiatus has been mainly due to:

- I suddenly moved back to my parent's house. (And I MEAN 'sudden!' I spoke to my folks one day and moved the next - a move of over 600 kilometres, back to the Okanagan!)
- Almost immediately after I arrived in the Okanagan I got not just one, but TWO part time jobs - due to my lack of luck job hunting in Vancouver, I guess this means it was meant to be that I came home here!
- Due to those part time jobs plus a regimen of cooking meals for my night shifting parents (so that they don't have to eat nasty sandwiches at work) I've been really busy and tired. This doesn't mean I haven't been working on my manuscripts though!
- I kind of hit my photo capacity for blogger and I like pictures in my posts. I tried buying more space for my pictures, but somehow that didn't work, so I dunno. I still have photobucket, but it's a huge pain in the ass re-coding every single picture that I want to upload!

So, as you can guess, lots of stuff has gone on. Here's a summery of things which have happened beyond the stuff keeping me super busy.... (as usual; do I EVER truly take a break?!)

- I've been hiking THREE times since I moved here! All have been pretty great hikes. The last one was a 9 kilometre hike and I didn't feel a lick of pain ANYWHERE in my body until the last kilometre (the tendon in my left arm that likes to act up - it's some stupid genetic thing I got from my mother that kind of ache-hurts) and I was never out of breath the entire hike. What really helped with controlling my speed was letting my Dad take point, instead of galloping off ahead of him and using all my energy way too fast. (He's not slow but he takes like 10 billion pictures when we hike - which is awesome - but it means we stop a lot, which is sort of a good thing I guess!)
- I'm slowly, slooooowly, getting sound. My irritable bowel syndrome has been acting up because I've been eating blacklisted items (like too much cheese and eggs - all animal products are no-nos) but because I walk up to 8 kilometres every day, I'm starting to build up my wind again, which means that I'll possibly be strong enough to do some backpacking next summer!
- My cats like it here! They're getting along okay-ish with my other older cat Smoky. Unfortunately, they gave her fleas, but I'm working on that. (How two indoor cats got fleas sort of escapes me, but they did and they got them back in Vancouver. I couldn't afford any flea treatment back then.)
- I'm still mourning Sunny. I'll probably be mourning him for the entire rest of my life. (He was just that special!)
- I'm getting some more solidified ideas about my future, living here. I've learned a lot about myself in this past year and I'm really hoping that I can apply all of it to making the right choices from now on and ignoring that damn Coyote! (I'll explain Coyote.) I've got several demons to take on though before I can get anywhere. Luckily, they're identified demons!
- Speaking of Coyote, I had a medicine card reading in which I learned that I have more totems than previously thought. Some were unexpected (like Coyote, which is a double-edged knife) and some were previously known or expected (like Wolf and Dog - yep, I am both a Wolf AND a Dog!) I'm not going to mention all of the spirits who follow me here, because I hear you're not supposed to, but among the spirits who govern me, there are Dog, Alligator, Wolf, Coyote and Rabbit, the evil one. (There is absolutely NOTHING good about having a rabbit totem because they represent Fear.)

Thanks to the medicine cards, I've gotten some good ideas about how I should proceed with my life. Wolf is my Teacher and because he's been known to me all my life, I feel this means that I am meant to teach others too - and Dog reaffirms that - dog is Loyalty, the servant. I must do something that serves and aids my beliefs to be happy as Dog. Because I am also Wolf, I have the power to teach people, so I must assume that I will serve through teaching - I am meant to be a teacher. No, not a classroom one. I think I need to do something with nature, such as the biology thing or working for Parks Canada in a national park or educating people through eco-tourism. Thus, right now, my goals look like this:

- Learn to drive. (Currently studying for my Learner's license or 'L.')
- Take a NOLS course. No matter what I end up doing, be it guiding on horses, being a warden, a field biologist, a ranger or just a park interpreter, getting trained with NOLS will help me survive in those fields as well as get a job in those fields.
- (Possibly) Learn French (because French is Canada's second language.)

I can't do anything about my future loneliness (when I move out from my parents') right now. It's impossible to know what will happen with me socially in the future. For now I'm home and because of that I'm emotionally stable (aka not lonely) because I'm getting the social interaction which I so desperately needed from my parents (like Dog, I desperately require companionship and cannot live or thrive without it). Right now the only idea I have for my future predicament is to get a dog, because dogs, unlike cats, can go hiking with you and go on trips with you. A dog would keep me active, which is important, because I need to stay sound and the only way I will will be through excersize. Right now, the breeds under consideration (also which I just plain like the best) are:

- The German Shepherd - there aren't many disadvantages to this breed. They have been known to do just fine in apartments (provided they get enough stimulation and walkies) and they've been a favourite of mine for probably my entire life. I love GSDs, plain and simple, but some stuff to consider are that if I have a GSD, I would like to give it a job (such as teach it Shutzhund or tracking) as these are extremely smart animals (third smartest breed in the world) and I would have to make doubly sure that I socialize it well as a puppy. (And I think I would get a puppy, because I want my dog to be fine with my cats and to my cats to be okay with it, which I think would be better if they meet it when it's still a small size close to their own so that they're less intimidated by it.) Some considerations are that GSDs can be prone to hip displacia (damn you improper breeding!) so I would have to make doubly sure to get my dog from a reputable breeder using German working stock. (NOT crappy American show stock!)

- The Canaan Dog - I never even considered this bloody dog before I started getting it as a suggestion on almost every 'breed selector' test that I've taken. Reading up on them, there's some pretty great aspects to this breed, such as them being a very healthy, ancient, long lived breed with almost no health problems. They're also extremely smart (like the German Shepherd) and have been used as herding dogs for thousands of years in Israel (aka Canaan) while in more recent years, they have been employed as war time sniffer dogs, sniffing out landmines (again, like the German Shepherd!) The only real disadvantage to this breed as far as I can see (its temperament being similiar to a GSD but its health being sounder) is that it's pretty rare, so a puppy would be hard to find. Also, it's not really recommended for first time owners, but really, it doesn't seem like ANY dog is recommended for first time owners! (I think, judging from my personal studies of canine psychology I have a leg up over most first timer people who are thinking about getting a dog.) Another good point for these dogs is that they're a spitz, (like a husky or an akita) so they look cool. Also, they might be pretty easy on the wallet in regards to feeding; they are easy keepers, expense wise.

- Swiss Mountain Dog - big, lovable and completely gorgeous! Sweet tempered, they love people and would probably make the best first time pet of my list (according to most dog people anyway) but disadvantages abound for them, despite their beautiful nature. Firstly, they don't live long with a projected natural lifespan of 6-8 years. Second, they have some health problems and third, they're really big dogs, which means they might have really big appetites, which might not be so friendly for my wallet. Despite disadvantages, these low key dogs would probably be quite happy going hiking with me and packing their own stuff.

- Rottweiler - I love rotties for the same reason I love pit bulls (though I don't like the looks of pitties as much) - they have a very sweet and loving nature, provided they are raised properly. Rottweilers, like German Shepherds and Canaan Dogs, were originally herding dogs, used by the Romans to herd their cattle, so this makes them not only smart, but also, yes, naturally protective of their 'flock.' If I had a rottie, I wouldn't get one with a docked tail because I believe that while undoubtably cruel, the docking of a rottweiler's tail also contributes to its 'mean look.' All dogs look better WITH tails! (Unless they were actually born without one!) Rotties have some of the same health issues as GSDs (though maybe not as severe) and to get one with a good temperament, I would have to be very sure to seek out a good breeder and it would be of extra importance to meet the parents of my dog.

- Jack Russel Terrier - I have some experience with these; my old best friend had a pack of four and I used to spend quite a few weeks every year living with them, so I'm accustomed to these spirited dogs. Personally, I'm not really into small dogs, but I am making myself consider Jack Russels because financially, a small dog would be easier to take care of than a large one. Jack Russel Terriers are great little dogs with enough energy and spunk to go the distance on a hike for their size, though if I got one I would do well to find a breeder who is mindful of good genetics and does not dock tails. I will not have a dog with a docked tail. I will not support that disgusting fad and Jack Russels look cuter WITH a tail anyway!

- Cairn Terrier - CUTE. They look like little wiry foxes with cute stubby puppy tails. As terriers they're feisty little things and they have a good coat that would keep them warm in cold conditions. Cairn Terriers are best recognized for the character Toto, who is the dog in the Wizard of Oz. Besides possibly being more economical than a big dog feed-wise, they are also comparable to the size of my cats, which could be a good thing if the animals decide to have an argument.

So anyway, those are my dog ideas. I don't plan on getting a dog until I'm settled into whatever career that I'm going to have, so it will be a while, probably years before I have a pooch. For now, I'm pretty happy with my cats.

Right now (away from the dog topic) I'm working on a self-imposed production deadline of finishing the first book of Emperor's Blood by Christmas (and if not Christmas, than December 31st.) After that, I'm supposed to work on spiffing up the manuscript of Ashes of Hope for three months before beginning the writing of Kill Copper, the second book in the EB trilogy. I'm giving myself a year for that and I have to shop out AOH while I write it. After KC is done, I will (if I stay on target) begin writing Imperial Spirit in March 2013. That's the goal. After that, I will spend up to six months (but hopefully only three) editing the trilogy together for continuity, flow and characterization. Hopefully I can keep these deadlines!

A Month Ago...

...my cat Sunny died. It's still not the same and it will never be. There's no cat like him in the world, as beautiful or as loving.

I may have a new cat now. I think his name is Houdini, but I'm not sure. I was joking that I could call him 'Jawa' yesterday and then I said 'Houdini' because that's what it sounds like the silly things are saying and he responded. It came right out of the blue, so I think that might be his name, though I'm not sure what I think of owning a cat named after an escape artist, though it would be pretty cool to have two cats named after famous people. The little brat is still half feral. I've managed to gain a lot of his trust, but so far he's more interested in attacking my butt and feet when I'm sitting than in being snuggled, but he's still half wild, so maybe there's hope.

Other name ideas include:
-Tahini (a type of nut butter sort of)
-Monkey (monkeys can be unpredictable and evil though, so not so sure I like this)

I kind of like Houdini best and it's the easiest on the tongue so far.

I wrote three good chapters of Emperor's Blood yesterday. THREE. I attribute it to Sunny. I do think and hope he's watching over me. I had a dream about him about a week after he died where I turned and he came running up to me, head up, tail up, looking me in the eye... so maybe he is okay, but it still hurts and I really, really want to go home. I don't want to be here in Vancouver anymore. (Which sucks, because I just got a nice new apartment, but too bad! It would only be perfect if it was situated about 600 kilometres EAST of here in the Okanagan!)

I just worry about my cats, but I want to go. Instinct is pulling me back - I want to restart my life in a new direction. I want to get a job and save up to go to NOLS and I want to get my driver's license. I want to be close enough to my parents that I can go hiking with them and close enough so that they can nag me, because I know I need retraining in a few things. I want to be close enough that they can help me if they feel they need to and so that I can help them and me and my mom could share our DVDs and our games. I want to be back in the land where Sunny, lived, loved, grew old... and where he died.

I feel like an Imperial who has lost one of his sketzine. Part of my soul is gone.

One hour now, until the moment my baby died a month ago...

Sunny & Me & the Okanagan Valley

To those who don't see the full picture, who only see activities and things like shopping and hanging out, any place can seem boring. To the young people of the Interior of British Columbia, their small towns are often described as boring and dull, with nothing to do as they dream of the city.



Sunny and I grew up in the Okanagan Valley and we had no need for any of that. We saw the valley in all its splendour from high on the mountains and low in the hills. Sunny saw the land from the lush of the grass and from the long shadows of the trees. Both of us lived and loved there and every single time I leave the Okanagan, I am tortured by my leaving. It's where my family is, where my cats are and where my spirit resides. When I am away from it, my soul cries and cries for the Okanagan, where all is quiet, all is peaceful. The Okanagan wasn't where I was born, though it was where Sunny was born, but I may as well have been born there too, because it's there, that the big bang of my imagination happened and where my spirit ran free. The Okanagan was and always will be our inspiration and though Sunny's no longer there except in spirit, I know that he loved that land too. It was his home and is. He never left it and he never will. To take Sunny from that land would be a crime and I know that when next I go there, my spirit will cry in earnest for his, for he will no longer physically be there.



The Okanagan Valley is like no other place on Earth. One can say that about just about any place though, for no two feet of dirt are alike, so I will say this; in no place in the world that I know of can you travel thirty kilometres and go from lush green forests edging lakes, to green farmlands roamed by beautiful horses to a semi desert where the hills flare up with yellow balsam root flowers in the summer and where if you're not careful, you'll step on a prickly pear cactis. Everything is surrounded by soft old mountains and cliffs kissed orange by the sunrise and in the valley bottom there is a troop of lakes, one after the other, one by one. There's Okanagan, grey and long busy, home to the mighty Ogopogo who once ate people crossing the lake in legends. There's Kalamalka, a lake National Geographic rated as being one of the world's most beautiful lakes in the world and it deserves that title, for Kalamalka's colouring is always forever changing, for in its waters are the properties of a crystal prism. There's also Swan Lake and Wood Lake and Gardam Lake and Skaha and Osoyoos. All of them are beautiful.



The lake that me and Sunny grew by and where Sunny tried so hard to hunt the mallard ducks at was Okanagan Lake. I lived in terror of those waters as a child, not particularly because of Ogopogo (though he scared me too and still does) but because I just didn't like water and I thought that octopi lived there and that there were crabs to pinch my feet. (I will never swim in the ocean!) My mother told me that when I was a baby, every time they tried to put me in the water, I would scream bloody murder, so the general consensus has become that in some past life, I drowned, because I still don't like water. If I'm in a canoe, I have to paddle close to shore where the water isn't so deep and I will not put my feet anywhere near reeds or water grass. I think Sunny was the same, though he was a cat, so like me, he possessed a sensible distrust of water. One time, when he was young we tried to take him out and he leaped out of the canoe before we had cleared very far past the shore, swimming back as fast as he could. We never made him do that again; some cats may like water, but not mine.



It's hard to think about the Lake Lot now. So much of my memories there in that sacred place were spent with him, my Sunnels, now passed. It's been two days since he died now. Two days. Over fifty four hours since he passed away. I can't stand thinking of that. Thinking of the lake, I remember him striding through the green grass, his orange and white fur bright against the flora, beautiful eyes and knicked ears keen. Whenever we were cooking, whenever we had a fire the cats would hang out with us, never getting too close, but sitting or prowling nearby, a part of the moment.



As dusk drew, we would hear humming birds and then we would see the daily cloud of swallows, reeling and diving like fighter jets after the bugs. There's less of those now than when I was a kid. There may be less humming birds too and for both species, that's a great tragedy. Darkness would fall and out from the black forest mountain behind our house would come the bats, flicking flashes of coal in the shadowy light, chasing the insects that the swallows had chased while at the fire we drew letters in the air with glowing poker stick points, making smoke trails. Out of the night there would be a flash of white and that would be Mamma Kitty, leaping at the bats. She was seldom successful, but that's not to say that she never was. Mamma Kitty was a champion of mousers and bats were in particular probably of some annoyance to her, flickering about above her head, challenging prey that dared her, mocked her. Mamma Kitty got her revenge though. Like a wild African Serval she would spring up in a flash of her markings, claws clapping together, tail waving wide and any bat who hadn't heard her jump, if it caught between her fatal paws, it was doomed. Mamma Kitty was a spectacular mousing cat.



Sunny's prey, were the ducks. Sunny always dreamed of catching a duck. From his observations of how they came close for bread when we were feeding them (note; bread actually isn't very good for ducks, but these ducks were also feeding on proper duck things at the same time, unlike ducks at your typical city park) the ducks seemed pretty stupid. The only problem was, was that they were in water and he wanted them to be on land. Ducks do go on land though, waddling up to nibble at the grass, so I think Sunny was pretty hopeful that one day he'd catch one unawares. Most of the time though the ducks would see him and they didn't seem too impressed by his chirping bird call, gliding infuriatingly away through the placid water as he stalked across the rock dock. As they left they would straighten and I do think he would breath a sigh then, frustrated by their bloody wariness as they paddled off, quaking about him, oft times a mama duck telling her flotilla of babies to be careful about him.



Smokey and Mamma Kitty were never really tempted by the ducks like Sunny was. Smokey only wanted to catch shrews or robins (my mom cursed her to stop killing all the robins though they seemed in plentiful enough supply) and Mamma Kitty wanted bats - or humming birds - or other birds, or really, anything. The uber hunter wanted to eat something tastier than kibble and to give us something to show her endearing regard. She ate most of her kills, as did Smokey, dragging them into the yard then munching them on the lawn, but sometimes our huntresses didn't eat their prey, leaving them in front of our doors to impress us. I think the gifts were usually shrews. Maybe shrews taste good?



What tasted good to me, were hot dogs, crisped until black so that they have some flavour. To those who don't know, veggie wieners aren't high in the taste department. They're pretty boring, but they taste pretty good if they're charred a bit, at least in my opinion. Something about cooking them in fire makes them taste a thousand times better, especially served on a piece of local bread drizzled with ketchup, relish, mustard and mayo if we were lucky. That, combined with my mom's potato salad and iced tea, followed up by copious sweet marshmallows (also better over a fire) makes for one of the best weinie roasts ever. Marshmallows are also fun because occasionally they become torches, whether you're trying to flame them or not. They're very combustable. (Also, if you put them in the microwave they grow to like five times their size. I know because me and my brothers conducted several experiments on this when our parents were out. We also once made something we called 'astronaut food' which was a blended much of hot dog, bread, mustard, ketchup and relish. Yep. It was nasty looking. I didn't try it.)



Like the cats, we ran barefoot at the lake lot, dashing through cool grass in not much besides our swim suits, leaping through the rain, dancing cautiously around the dry spot in the lawn where the spiny horse chestnuts fell. I don't believe the cats ever stepped there either. Cats are too smart. We climbed the trees; my brothers built forts. We went on the roof of our cabin and looked out over our territory. We chased the cats in games of Endangered Species where they played cheetahs that we as biologists were trying to catch with tranquilizer darts (water guns) and made mazes out of two-by-four blocks of driftwood, once putting Smokey in one of those. The mazes were epic. It's too bad that there's no pictures of those.




In the garden Mamma Kitty liked to lie under the tomatoes on the hot black Earth and soak up the sun while Sunny preferred the cherry tree, where he could lay in the shade in cool peace. I saw him pant a few times. My dad made the cats a big automatic feeder thing out of a big metal stove pipe and the bottom of a plastic vegetable oil bucket, which we kept full of kibble for them and they drank water from the lake shore, crouching at its grassy edge. In the day, you could always hear the boats and seadoos going NEA-NEA-NEA-nea-nea... At night all there was was quiet and our childish conversations and the occasional terrifying bark of our mother telling us to go to sleep as the cats all slept with us in the trailer.



The Okanagan is home to me and my cats. It's where I first dreamed of giggoos and roleplayed falcolfs playing in the lake mud and where I told many of my first stories. Rimer was born there as Sunny was and Smokey and Mamma Kitty were too and it will always remain a source of great inspiration to me, from the Lake Lot where my family all found their peace and where me and my brothers learned the wildness that all kids should learn, to the dusty hiking trails that bake under the sun where as a kid I followed and where now I so often lead. Hiking drives my blood up like nothing else and the Okanagan does too, because it is home and it is familiar. I love the Okanagan like a family member and this year, I was grateful when it didn't torch. This year, my homeland got a break from the recent string of yearly firestorms that have plagued it. Maybe the sunspots and flares which chase away the needed rain have calmed down for a while; I would welcome that. I think we all would welcome that, here in the Okanagan.



For me, I will remember running in the rain unjacketed and hiding under my parent's sofa bed with Sunny and Smokey and Mamma Kitty in the thunderstorms. I will remember Sunny cutely chatter chirping at the ducks and Mamma Kitty hunting, bringing back mice. I will remember the bottle caps stuck in the dirt road and riding my bike the five kilometres out to the general store for candy under a hot summer sun and I will remember Smokey, playing with her prey, flipping them into the air.



I love my home. It won't be the same without Sunny there, but it will still be home and when I go there, maybe, maybe he will come to me and if only just in dreams, we'll be together again.

Rest in peace buddy.





Photography by Rosanna P. Brost and Bryan B. Brost.

Home

Driving by a lake of silver, then up onto a verdant hill, you can look across and see sun shining on distant cliffs, brightening all the landscape with copper polish. The cliffs glow, the fields and forests look greener and in the distance, Mount Rose greets the onlooker, round and soft, an old mountain of bluish green whose forests are decorated with tree shelf mushrooms and toads on stumps. Below the Rose is a green land of fields and horses, brown, chestnut and bay, little foals and shaggy cows. They frolic by the lake shore named for otters, in paddocks rimmed with white as well as the humble barbed wire. Cows. Brown cows, black and white cows. You can't not notice the dairy farm as you drive by. In the open fields everything is green dotted with yellow and everything is protected by the mountains. The roads are windy, curving here and there, crossing and turning, going away. By the side of a pasture amongst tiny purple violets we buried Whiskey, in the shadow of the Rose, on her footstep. Lower, lower is the town, not a city like it claims to be, but a peaceful, calm, safe town with a city hall and a old red brick post office and old houses. The annual fair here is the best in the land, in all the land and sometimes on summer saturdays the whistle of a big black steam train can be heard as it thunders into town. There's even a train platform for it. The streets here are quiet, except when there is the fair and there are flowers everywhere and big trees too. In the centre of town, there's a wetland where muskrats live. The whole town used to be a wetland and it used to be a place for asparagus - this is Armstrong. Armstrong, British Columbia, Canada.

This is my home.



Picture taken by my Dad.

Wild Fire

The following was written in the summer of 2009, during a wild fire which plagued the landscape near Fintry which is in my homeland of the Okanagan Valley. It's descriptive practice, which I did to remind myself of the peculiar feeling of danger and impending disaster that permeates the world at such times. If you have never been near a wild fire, perhaps from this you will feel a little of what I felt on this day of July 21st 2009 at the family Lake Lot or 'Brost Post.' The following is never before seen and was written directly from my own observations. The original title of this piece is 'What it's Like to be in the Valley of a Wild Fire.' Hopefully you enjoy.

Firstly, it doesn’t smell like smoke. The smell is more like that of a warm crisp waffle cone, a scent that isn’t menacing, yet gives one pause as they step outside. Beyond the safe confines of the trailer, garish yellow light crawls across the dry grass of the lawn, turning all the world to gold. This too, is unnatural and is everywhere, highlighting everything one can see in this colour. It turns the normally soft colour of an orange freezie almost neon as the cold sugary liquid spills onto the grass, bright against the dying blades. Beyond the shore, highlighted against the opposite shore one can clearly note what looks like mist hovering several feet off the water, but what is actually smoke. It hovers there, sinister and alien while looking down the valley, one might actually see cottony clouds of more of the gas, thick and viscous. Above, on only one side of the valley the sky is bright blue, the true colour but down the valley, towards the inferno hidden by the belching burning white gas, the sky is a yellowish sort of cream. There’s a gradient between the cream and the white, which stretches across your horizon. Finally, because it's summer it is hot, but a different kind of hot. This is a humid heat, not from the caress of the distant fire, but from the heat which bounces off the land to be deflected back down at the world by the smoky blanket. It’s an oppressive heat, which can make you sweat proficiently, even while sitting still and relaxed. It gives you cause for worry, as in the forest the animals hide or flee. They know, and distantly you do as well that danger may be coming, that you should leave this place; yet you stay anyway, because reports say the fire is too far away.