Suitable for framing.

I've already put this image up on Facebook and Twitter, so my apologies for a "triple post" -- but I wanted it somewhere more permanent. (I consider a blog permanent? Maybe I should buy a printer.) Voila!



Ah, good times. By the way, we posted an incredible time of 2:19 in the B division semis, and in the finals (the only race which actually depends on position rather than time), we raced 2:27, but kept the lead to win the gold! Not a bad job at all, Prairie Fire!

Now, I just have to come up with an idea for next year, and we're set.

Taking Care of Business.

Photos forthcoming.

But in the meantime, my first stint as an Elvis impersonator was an unqualified success. People were laughing, smiling, taking pictures -- I even got to autograph a scarf. The most surreal moment, though, was after the main performance, when a fellow came up to shake my hand. And then... a curious thing. He asked me what my name was.

A split second before I said "Denton", I stopped.

"Delvis Fresley. Pleased to meet you, sir."

He smiled. "The Real Elvis?"

"It's an honour to be here." (I guess I mumbled a bit too much. It worked in my advantage here, though.)

It is true, though -- when you put on that sequined jumpsuit, it's almost impossible not to fall into character. And it's even harder to act like yourself. That jumpsuit unlocks a wave of energy, and all you have to do is let your Inner Elvis pick up his surfboard. After that, It's all smiles and sunglasses.

Although not entirely... I did freak out one young boy -- and he acted in much the same way I did when I was his age, and at a Klingon exhibit in Las Vegas. (Always Vegas.) And I did get booed by one group of young ladies after they asked me to sing a song. But you know what? I suspect that they had already decided to boo me long before they asked. Fatalism works both ways, I guess.

I still had to paddle, though, which means that I am about to drop from exhaustion. But before that, one final observation:

Scarves are awesome. Swing them, drape them, spin around... I think they just replaced capes as my #1 male fashion accessory in sore need of a comeback.

All right. Time to get ready for the B Divison Final tomorrow. Wish me luck!

I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar.

As all good Albertans know, Highway #2 -- a straight connection between Edmonton and Calgary -- is not as simple as its cartography would imply. One problem, of course, is that the number, velocity, and sheer tonnage of its drivers make it the vehicular equivalent of a meteor shower. The other problem is that it goes through Red Deer: a city with a weather system which seems to be aware of the existence of happiness elsewhere in the province, and then seeks to correct that imbalance.

The drive back from Edmonton, then, was a test of willpower: to keep concentration on the packed snow covering the highway, and the faint traces of dirt and asphalt marking the route home, while gusts of snow kept even the horizon, and even the other side of the highway invisible. And this was during daylight hours, no less.

It was slow going -- sometimes even 50 km/h seemed reckless, but I kept going at those speeds, not wanting the truck in front of me to pull ahead and vanish into the storm, leaving me without a beacon. And so I followed, learning to contend with the constant eddies of his tailwind. But then, the winds died down, and a beautiful dry stretch of road opened up. Glad to see my patience rewarded, I moved into the passing lane. And that's when I hit the Drift.

I'm sure almost everybody knows that feeling when they lose control of their car: it seems like you can see things a split second before they happen. The front tires stopped listening to the steering wheel, the snow pushed up against the undercarriage, and the vehicle inexorably moved into the dividing ditch. We plowed through the deep white banks like a breaching whale, rapidly losing speed. Not so rapidly, though, that the signpost immediately ahead of us wasn't a threat.

I managed to pull Atanarjuat back up onto the shoulder, but only the right-hand side. At that point, the rear kept on swinging out onto the highway, and in the corner of my eye, I saw three cars behind me slam on their brakes. I tapped the gas, and went back into the ditch again, this time at a much straighter angle, and we went right through, riding the ditch like a half-pipe, swinging out on the shoulder of the adjacent highway, riding the ditch like a half-pipe. We swung up onto the other shoulder, all wheels back on semi-solid ground. True, we were facing a highway of oncoming traffic, but as luck would have it, we were just a few metres away from a connecting berm, usually only used by road crews and police. I moved to that safe midpoint, and brought Atanarjuat to a stop.

My two passengers and I finally exhaled. One of them (who had recently been in a car accident with a semi) stayed frozen in place, her hand still inside the A&W bag, holding on to the Teen Burger she'd been reaching for when I first lost control. She ended up throwing the entire burger away, still wrapped in foil. The other one immediately gave me a high five.

After that, it was an extra-extra-careful drive the rest of the way to Calgary, whereupon I treated myself to the most rewarding dessert the Husky Diner had to offer.

And was it worth all that, just for an apple crumble? Well, no, of course not. But -- it was definitely worth it for the Elvis lessons I received that weekend.



I learned a few new moves, and a few new songs. And most importantly, I learned that what you sing from your heart, people listen with theirs.

Maybe a corollary to that, one of many, is that when you drive with your heart, it's your car that listens. And if that's the case, then maybe we all have an Inner Elvis -- we just need to find our audience.

Behold the new economy.

Video camera? Check.
Stuffed dinosaur? Check.
Two bottles of Mexican hot sauce? Check.
Lab coat? Check.
Harmonica? Check.
Breakfast? Pending.

All right, then -- time to get some Elvis Impersonation lessons.

Have a good weekend, everyone!

A Little Less Conversation.

The next chapter in my new position as "Dragon Boat cheerleader" has begun: the team has unanimously decided that next year's them will be "Elvis Presley". What does this mean? Honestly, they don't know. They just told me that I have to be Elvis, and they'll make everything else work around it. And -- And! I get to pick which style of Elvis to use.

Not such a bad offer, is it? I'm not a huge fan of The King, but on the other hand, the chance to be an Elvis Impersonator isn't one that comes along every day... and I've got a year to put the outfit together, too. Already, my head is swimming with ideas: Ed Sullivan's "Elvis the Pelvis"? "Jailhouse Rock" Elvis? The black leather "Comeback Special"? All good options, but it should surprise noone to learn that I'm partial to "Hawaiian Luau" Elvis, myself. The thought of putting everyone else in Hawaiian shirts appeals to me, for some reason.

But that's not addressing the real issue: Big Ol' karate-choppin', peanut-butter-fryin', sequined-jumpsuit-wearin' VIVA LAS VEGAS Elvis. I'm only going to get one chance to do this, after all. Why wouldn't I go for the gold?

Still... the Hawaiian theme's perfect for a Dragon Boat festival... ah, there'll be a few sleepless nights working this one out before I'm done. But it's going to be worth it.

Speaking of the festival, Wrex wanted to know a bit more about the Lethbridge production. How can I refuse such a request?



Awesome costumes, aren't they? It really makes me wish I hadn't left my tie-dyed shirt in Medicine Hat. Anyway, here are the lyrics. Don't forget that this song is best sung in a cross between a slur and a wail, and that the chorus includes singing out the guitar riff -- as well it should.

"When the dragon came to Lethbridge,
a mighty storm followed behind,
it bellowed out a challenge
to beat its fastest time...

The teams, they knew they could do it,
so they got into their starting lanes;
and when they heard that dragon roar,
their paddles, they burst into flames.

[chorus:
Smoke on the water,
Fire in the sky.
Smoke on the water...]

The drummer kept the rhythm,
and kept them going hard;
and paddlers followed every stroke
with iron in their arms.

The steersman aimed for the finish,
wrestling with that giant oar,
he was tied down to the gunnels
in case he got thrown overboard.

[chorus]

Now, the dragon wasn't beaten yet:
He was the king of the lake!
He surged ahead like a tidal wave,
water crashing in his wake.

But the paddlers pushed right through it,
and the steersman kept them straight,
and the drummer called out, "Power Ten!",
and they blew that dragon away!

[chorus]"

And then, of course, comes the guitar solo. Add meedleymeedleymeeeeees as you see fit, but try not to squelch the mike when you hit the really high note at the end.