Chapter 4 } Bikes, Shotguns and White Rabbits

{ Being held at Gunpoint at 15 years of age }


“Shit. There’s rapids below me anyways. I think. Which bridge am I on? Fuck. Are those rapids at the mill or here? I can’t look over to see. I’d die anyways at that height. Wait. I’ve jumped off the highest diving board at Sawmill creek swimming pool. How high is that? Is that the same height? Would I make it? Fuck. I gotta run. And then my worst nightmare came true. Both. You know the nightmare where you have to run and your feet are frozen to the ground?”

Victoria Day Fireworks weekend –  1988. This was it. I mean, this was the highlight of Manotick’s social events for the year. All right, maybe Dickinson Day, but that was a whole other kind of water gun mania event. Victoria Day was a long weekend of freedom. A weekend for summer romances, confessing summer crushes and being a well a teenager . I wanted to go. I grew up outside of Manotick – on the fringe really – near Ottawa. I lived in a large beautiful home that my father designed and built himself with his father, his cousins and the contracted professionals. As a kid, it felt like it was in the middle of butt farg Idaho though. I wasn’t any different then most of my schoolmates mind you living in the outskirts of Ottawa.  Anytime I had the chance to ride into town with my parents for errands, I would. “What? There’s more people that exist outside of my 280 acres of field existence?”  There was a plus side to living out here. I couldn’t really be grounded. Really. This didn’t stop my parents from yelling it though.

“Katie, you’re grounded.”


“Don’t you uhuh me child. You’re grounded.”

“Okay ma. I’m grounded.”

I’d go back up to my room where I spent most of my free time staring out the window and the hay fields that went on forever into eternity. I used to think if I followed the creek it would lead me to the Sahara Desert. “Grounded from what”?” I’d say out loud to myself. The non-existent store around the corner? My next-door neighbors 5 miles down the road? There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to get into mischief. It all required a vehicle and an adult to get you there. My parents did a lot of driving. I have a twin brother. There was always soccer, hockey, gymnastics etc. A friend of mine who lived even further out then I did was over visiting. We decided we wanted to bike into Manotick for the Victoria Day ballgame and fireworks. My older brother had bought my brother and I real purdy matching blue 10 speed bikes. We planned to ride them the 5 country roads it would take us to get into town. I asked my mother if we could go.




“Come onnnn Mom. Please”

“Pretty please?”

“Nooo. I said No and that’s it.”

“Why not? Why can’t we go?”

“I just don’t want you go there.”

“Why not. You don’t trust us?”

“I said No and that’s my final answer.”

“Mom! Why not? We’ll be fine.” I interrupted her.

“It’s not you I don’t trust Katie.”

I was relentless. “Mom!”

“It’s everyone else out there I don’t trust Katie.” She yelled over me.

“Come on! It’s Manotick!”

“Alright fine. Go. But take the sidewalks. Don’t talk to anyone and you’re calling me from the payphone when you get there…and you’re home before dark.”

“Mom! The fireworks don’t start until it gets dark.”

“You’ll come home and I will drive you back in then. The road are not lit and there is no chance in H- – I am letting you ride back alone in the dark on those roads.”

We agreed and ran off giggling in 15 yearold hysterics and got ready to go. This was a big deal. First time out of the house on my own and on bikes! I had walked 5 fields down for tobogganing and summers with some childhood friends, but never this kind of distance. It was the summer of ’88. Cut off jean shorts were in. There is an undercurrent of how significant this event in my life was and what it would mean for me down the road. We were in the beginning prime of our teenage years, our puberty, our sexuality, our freedom. My parents were always protective. They had almost lost me once and I don’t think they ever wanted to take chances with me again. They were finally letting me go out on my own. This was a big deal. I was so excited.

We took off on our bikes. Thank God helmets weren’t a thing yet. Yuck. Would have cost extra anyways. ‘Would have ruined our meticulously combed hair. Jackie and I were still incredibly innocent girls. Jackie was a gorgeous girl. A spotlight of the high school fashion show and leggier then me. I’m sure my mother wished our cut-off jean shorts were bermudas. How could she complain? They came from her generation and have never gone out of fashion since. We took off. Our biggest challenge was the big hill right close to my home on Limebank Rd. The hill seemed so much bigger on bike I learned. We biked our way up, chatting and goofing around on the way. Rideau road was windy and we were having fun swaying our back tires back and forth and tracing figure eights on the roadway. No traffic to speak of. When we got to Regional Road eight we had to be careful. It was a main thoroughfare and really busy with cars speeding most of the time. I’m sure it took as a small lifetime to get there. We arrived at the grounds and hung out with our friends from school who all lived a short walk away to the Manotick Arena. There was a big ballgame going on and a few concession stands to get lost in cotton candy at. I’m sure we dug into some french fries from the fry truck and flirted our innocent way around the swing set where the preteens were hanging out. We laughed, goofed around and had a ball. Dusk was setting in and I knew it was time to make the trek back. Never quite the same on the way home is it?

We headed home. We were still right in the middle of “downtown” Manotick and riding over the Main Street bridge that first brings traffic into the center of town. We had been riding the sidewalks as my mom instructed and I was just as happy to oblige being away from the cars. The sidewalk ended halfway over the bridge. Riding in tow I was in front of Jackie. I slowed down and threw my leg over and hopped off my bike. She did the same. We were waiting on the edge of the sidewalk watching the flow of traffic waiting for it to stop so we could hop back on our bikes and ride the road until the sidewalk would start up again. We thought.

In the flash of a second I was staring down the barrel of a shotgun. I had never done this before. It is bloody terrifying.

There was no warning, no before, just this moment. There is a man coming at me and intently pointing a big gun right at my face and he’s screaming bloody murder loud at the top of his lungs.

“Jump off of the bridge!”

I want to run hard! I want to run fast! I want to get out of here! My mind is racing a million miles a minute. Tons of bits of information is coming into my head clearly and quickly. I’m on a bridge. There is steel bridge rail behind me that is at least 41/2 feet high. I’d have to turn around and hoist my leg over the bridge and jump. That means my back would be to him. I don’t know what he’s going to do if I move. I won’t be able to see the gun. He’s now waving the gun up and down at me frantically in fits and spurts. There is no rhythm to it. There is no way to monitor his next move. He screams even louder at me,

“Jump off of the fucking bridge!”

Every time he said “fucking” he waved his gun eve more angrily just on that word. You don’t have to accentuate it buddy. I’m scared shitless already. The “F-word” isn’t gonna wanna make me jump any more or less! Shit. There’s rapids below me anyways. I think. Which bridge am I on? Fuck. Are those rapids at the mill bridge or here? I can’t look over to see. I’d die anyways at that height. Wait. I’ve jumped off the highest diving board at Sawmill creek swimming pool. How high is that? Is that the same height? Would I make it? Fuck. I gotta run. And then my worst nightmare came true. Both. You know the nightmare where you have to run and your feet are frozen to the ground? Where you want to scream but you can’t?

I try to move my feet. Maybe if I shuffle slow to the side, I can duck and dive under the car that is stopped there. Why is there a car stopped there? This guy stopped his car in the middle of the road? Of all the negative influences movies have, they do provide reference points in times of unbelievable events. Yah, I’ll dive 5 feet under a car like a Charlie’s Angel and the hard concrete will soften my fall. Well, still better then a bullet through my head. Cue Drew Barrymore’s produced Charlie’s Angels slow motion image of Kate flying through the air music now! { I met her once. Zaphods, Valentines Day with Tom Green. But that’s another story } I can’t move my feet. I am telling them to move and they’re not moving. Why aren’t the moving now of all times? He seems to be getting angrier that I’m not jumping of the bridge. He’s got a gun pointed at my face. Does he realize the predicament I’m in? Seriously. He yells furiously loud at me again,

“I told you. Jump off of the fucking bridge right now!”

I think I need to scream back. I need to scream. I want to scream. Will it shock him away? I try to scream. My mouth drops and nothing is coming out. No sound. Nothing. I can’t scream. Inside I am screaming and nothing is coming out. I was terrified. Fuck. What is going to happen? How am I going to get out of here? How do I get him to back away? However long these minutes lasted I was initially cognizant of Jackie, but then everything around me disappeared. Of all the things going on in these moments, this man’s screams, his waving shotgun, my desire to run or jump and scream, feeling the hot summer concrete below my converse sneakers, the only single thought in my head was, “I’m going to die. I want to live.”

I never moved a foot. I never managed a sound from my mouth. My body was frozen. If I don’t move, maybe I will not disturb this man anymore then he already is. Then, out of nowhere, as fast as he was in front of us pointing his shotgun, something happened. Everything became very still and silent. All the sounds of summer I did here we gone. The background noise of a small town faded. It was clear I wasn’t budging or listening to his orders. Not that I was making decisions. It seemed like something was controlling me. If I jumped, I’d surely die. If I stayed, he’s going to blow my head off.  I tried running and couldn’t move. I guess I’ll just stay put then. Out of nowhere it seemed as though the air got lighter and brighter. I couldn’t see anything around us except for an isolated vision of this lunatic. A soft ball of light with no distinctive edges, just a fade disappearance into the atmosphere appeared around us, between him and I. He went from being frantic loud and crazy lunatic waving a shotgun at me in the middle of the busiest street in town, to slowly lowering his gun as though someone had gently laid their hand on his barrel and it lowered slowly to his side and he walked calmly in a daze back to his car, got into the driver’s side, started the car and began to drive off like nothing had ever happened. All in light of day in the one of the most charming rural towns on the Main street. My eyes seemed to follow him, protected by an imaginary shield and there on the side of the road closest to me was a longhaired blond woman sitting in the passenger seat. It was a small white rabbit car and there was a woman in the passenger seat the whole time this was happening?

Jackie and I turned our heads slowly and looked at one another for the first time in the minutes that seemed like hours that this holdup took place. We began to sheepishly laugh in the rhythm of a stalled stick shift car.

“Jackie…that, that, that was a gun!”

Jackie was still laughing, and managed, “I know.”

Our moods were interchanging between laughter and dead straight seriousness simultaneously. We needed to do something constructive now right? Unbeknownst to us. We were in shock.

“Jackie, we gotta get the license plate!” We both dropped our bikes, tires spinning, ran onto the road and ran down main street after this little white rabbit car. After thought: What’s a guy with a shotgun driving a rinky-dink shitbox like a white rabbit for anyhow? ‘Not a particularly masculating car now is it? Shouldn’t he have been driving a Chevy or Ford pick-up truck or something?

There weren’t any cars behind us so we were running in the middle of the bridge after this car. I squinted my eyes zoning in on the small plates and tried to read all 6 digits. I got the last 3 digits of the license place thinking Jackie had got the first 3. We ran as far as we could before the speed of the car had taken it far enough that we could not see it anymore. We both bent over and were panting in the middle of the road trying to catch our breath.

‘Did you get it?” we asked each other out of breath.

“U4N” we said gasping for air at the same time.

“Did you get the first three?” we said again under our breaths at the same time.

“No.” I thought you would.

“No.” I thought you would.

We laughed.

“Shit. Holy Shitttt! What the fuck just happened?”

Dusk was setting in.“Oh my God. It’s getting darker. We have to get home before dark or my mother is going to kill us.” We rode hard back the busy road, up the long side country roads, up Spratt to Rideau back to Limebank. Thank God the last part was all downhill this time. We slowed down near the driveway and turned into together.

“You going to tell your mom?” Jackie asked.

“Uh uh. No way! Are you kidding?”

“Yah, I guess she’d never let you out of the house again.”

“And how.”

We threw down our bikes, walked by the pool gate and tried to quietly walk into the house all sugar and spice like. My mother was most likely in the gazebo lounging where she spent most of the summer.

“Katie? Hi girls. Did you have a nice time?”

“Uhuh” we said in unison and closed the screen door behind us.

{ Cue theme music: It’s a toss up between 2 top hits for the summer of ‘ 88: “Good Thing” by Fine Young Cannibals for the bike ride in and my favorite at the time, “Sweet Child of Mine” buy Guns and Roses. How appropriate. }


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Where’s the holiday snow in Ottawa anyhow?

By Kate Flood
• 5:17pm • Starbucks
State of Being: Whatever.
• Listening to : Dave Mathews, “Space Between”


Chapter 2/2 } A $3000 Hydro Pole and an Abscess

{ Chapter 2 – Excerpt #2}

{ "This pole cost $3000 to replace." }

A $3000 Hydro-Pole and an Abscess

“I couldn’t afford physiotherapy on top of school. I was scrounging as it was. Living bare minimally. It was the standard middle-class student life. There was no extra cash flow. I already paid extra to go to the nicer gym downtown. The University gym was always packed, stank-rank and the fluorescent lighting made me crazy.”

After I was discharged from the ER, the doctor told me to visit my GP. I asked him why. He just informed me to please do it. I went to the student clinic on campus.  The doctor there examined me and asked how my neck was. I said fine. I said I felt sore in the rest of my body, especially my legs. He asked me to come back and see him in a month. I asked him why. He told me that sometimes things can come up a month after someone has had an accident. He was right. A month to the day, my neck was hurting. Every way I turned seem to aggravate it. What I noticed the most was the pain during my classes. Of all the degrees I could have been taking, of all the subjects I could have been majoring, I think I must have been in the very worst when it came to having neck pain. Communications. Film Studies to be exact. Do you know what one does in Film Studies? I had two to three and sometimes four, four-hour labs a day. What does one do in a film lab you ask? Why they watch movies of course. Sounds like fun right? Not so much. I was sitting in those uncomfortable half-desk, half  chair contraptions that a lot of lecture classes are in. Hard seat. No neck support. I was having the hardest time holding my neck up and I had no idea why. I didn’t think I had injured it. After all, it didn’t hurt when I got out of the car. I tired putting my hands behind my head to told it up. I tried stuffing my sweaters behind my neck to support it if I could find seat against a back wall. Nothing seemed to help for very long. I went back to the campus medical clinic to see the doctor.

“You have whiplash,” the doctor said.

“How could that be?” I asked.

“You were in a significant car accident. It’s very common.” He said.

“But, but, it didn’t hurt when it happened. And how come it just started to hurt now then?” I said.

He explained what typically happens in a car accidents. The amount of force pushes the neck back and forth and in my case all directions. In order to protect itself the person’s body the muscles tense up. He explained that records show that most of the time almost exactly one month after the accident the muscles try to relax and cannot anymore. Inflammation begins and then pain.

I started to cry. I don’t want this. I don’t need this. It hurt something awful. “What do I do doctor?”

“Well, you need to go to physiotherapy for your neck. I will also give you some muscle relaxants.”

He referred me to a physiotherapist and gave me the prescription for the muscle relaxants. I hobbled back home. I went to my appointment at the KJH Hospital and saw a physiotherapist there. It was one of these crowded places with hospital gurny’s lined up side by side, privatized only by a blue hospital curtain. It was claustrophobic and I felt like a number. I thought the physio would be covered by OHIP. A part of it was and a part of it wasn’t. I couldn’t afford physiotherapy ontop of school. I was scrounging as it was. It was the standard middle-class student life. Living bare minimally. There was no extra cash flow you know? I already paid extra to go to the nicer gym in downtown Kingston. The University gym was always packed, stank-rank and the fluorescent lighting made crazy. I made meals at home (Full 4 food group meals – this would prove to be an excellent source of procrastination from studying while I made complete dinners!). Subway was a treat out, and of course money for the pub on the weekend! Student standard no?

I called Alex and told him I needed my money to pay for physiotherapy. It seems he would have a more pressing manner. He was angry at something. “My father knows about the accident.”

“So. What’s the big deal?” I asked him.

“I didn’t want them knowing.” he quipped.

“Well how did he find out?”

“He must have opened my mail. We have the same initial.” Alex lived at home with his parents still. “I got sent a bill from the City of Kingston.”

“For what?”

“The hydro-pole.”

“Oh.” I think I laughed. It sounded kind of funny. That’s odd I thought. “Why did the city of Kingston send you a bill for a hydro pole? How much was it for?”

“I guess because I damaged it or broke it or whatever. They sent me  a bill for $3000.00 dollars!”


There was silence on the phone for a while. I felt bad for Alex, but frankly had other things on my mind. It all sounded rather hilarious. I told him about how my neck had been hurting and I needed to take Physiotherapy for it.

He sounded surprised I needed physiotherapy. Yes I said. “Are you sure you really need it Kate?”

“What are you talking about? Yes, I’m sure I really need it. God, I wouldn’t want to traipse over to the physio two to three times a week for the hell of it!”

He said ok and that he would repay some more of my money into my account. It didn’t appear. I tried calling him. No answer. Cell phones weren’t as hot as they are today in 1995 so I could only call and leave messages. I got tired of waiting. I called home and told my Dad about physio not being covered. He said he would pay, “But didn’t Alex have insurance?” That it should be covering the cost.” he said. I didn’t understand. I never owned a car (long enough to drive) and didn’t understand the workings of being in a car accident.

I remember trying to call Alex over and over again. He was never home. I hated hearing his mother’s wretched high-pitched voice on a good day, now it was driving me looney. “Alex” she would shrill hardly taking the phone from her ear. He’s not in the phone lady I can remember saying to myself. It never stopped. I could never find him. He didn’t return my phone calls. We had a mutual couple in common. My best friend at the time and her boyfriend. We had all met as counselors at summer camp. My best friend went off to University after camp and the guys stayed in Ottawa and worked. I would find out through my friend that Alex would be there on the weekends partying. So at least I knew he hadn’t fallen of the face of the earth. I would tell my best friend about the nightmares and how I was feeling and that I still kept going.  “Did she know where Alex was?” I would ask. I don’t remember receiving much sympathy. And pretty soon it seemed like she questioned my concerns over the accident and trying ot track Alex down.  Alex told them the accident wasn’t that bad. That it was a fender-bender. A fender-bender? Are you fucking serious? She was seeing Alex more then I was. All three of them would party on the weekends in her University town and in Ottawa. I was getting angrier. Why wasn’t he returning my phone calls? I needed my money to pay for my physiotherapy now. When I finally did get a hold of him I told him my father was going to help pay for the physiotherapy. Alex said he would look into paying for the physio. I think he paid a couple of times and it was like pulling teeth to arrange the money transfer. I think he thought that’s all it would take. And what I found out next, I could not believe. I cannot remember now how I found out.

Alex did not have insurance. Not just liability insurance to cover my physiotherapy. He also did not even have the car insured to be on the road at all. That’s right, for the road. Smooth move ex-lax. Colours a far larger graver picture doesn’t it for crashing your dream car that you put your own time and money on only to crash it on your first long test drive. He worked on that car all summer. He had it parked at camp. Everyone at camp knew that car. And that drive to city hall? He was charged for not having insurance and his license was revoked. That’s why he wanted me to drive him out of the lot. He wasn’t legally supposed to be driving. So he dumped a wad of cash into first buying this Porsche 911 Targa. He lost that money in a heartbeat. He was charged by the city of Kingston for the hydro pole $3000.00. Gone. And now I needed money to pay for my physiotherapy. The picture was getting so much better no?

{ to be continued… }

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By Kate Flood
• 4:13pm, Starbucks
State of Being: Hot and cold at the Starbucks. Listening to best dance song and essay writing on a deadline song: “Silence” Delerium and Sarah McLachlan.

Chapter 2 } A $3000 Hydro Pole and an Abscess

{ Chapter 2 – Excerpt #1}

A $3000 Hydro-Pole and an Abscess

“The tears were running down my face and I could still hardly speak a clear sentence. And then he did the unthinkable. He put his knee up on my shoulder and pulled hard on my tooth with whatever tool he had.”

Alex did end up flipping that tacky Porsche quite quickly. He didn’t however; return the money I loaned him in the same manner. He said he still needed it for the Porsche. The one he had picked me up in. I told him as long as when each month comes he pays me what I need to pay rent, for my groceries and bills. He said, “No Problem.” He stuck around for a week or two. I returned to my classes at Queens. Aside from being on my crutches for my right leg, I thought I was doing pretty ok. It was a nuisance getting around a big campus on which I’m sure anyone who’s had the experience would share. I didn’t have wheels, so I walked everywhere. The old buildings don’t have escalators or elevators so I had to go up flights of stairs. It’s also next to impossible to carry a knapsack full of books when you’re on crutches. This it turns, would  be the least of my concerns.

In the middle of the car accident mess, I had just had braces put on. Yup. 21 in University with braces. Nice. I was not a happy camper. I’m not even sure where the idea came from. My mother insisted I have braces. My teeth weren’t that bad. I was so worried. First official time away from home and boy crazy. “No one’s going to like me. I’m going to look like a kid with braces on in University. Nobody has braces in University!” I love how our teenage minds can be all-inclusive sometimes! Turns out, yes it was a nuisance, but I found out later that the guys actually dug the braces because I looked like a 16 year old. Nice.

Two weeks after the accident I was scheduled to have 4 teeth removed from my mouth. The four teeth just a couple over from my front on both sides. Now I want you to remember what my orthodontist said next. “We’ll remove these and you will still have plenty of room for your wisdom teeth to come in.”
I went to the dental specialist’s office in Kingston. Alex was still with me so he came with me for support and to drive me home after. The dentist froze my mouth. Great, I need to go through this again? At least the needles weren’t going through my face. I asked how long it would take. “Less then ½ hour per tooth. We’ll just do 2 today though and then you can come back for the other two.” he told me.

“And I won’t feel a thing doc?” I asked.

“Nope. Not a thing. I do this everyday. You’ll be fine.”

His words would soon be eaten. The dentist proceeded to try to remove one of my teeth. I could feel my head been yanked on, but it wasn’t really painful. It was ok that it wasn’t too painful, after-all my mouth was frozen. What was uncomfortable was having to provide a counter force to the dentist trying to yank a tooth out of my mouth. It’s not exactly relaxing. One cannot really let go. Kind of like when you get your haircut. You don’t just ‘let’ the hair stylist pull our head along with them pulling the hair up to cut it, you provide a counter force by keeping your head still.  I was getting tired of doing that for the dentist. A ½ hour had come and past. Still no tooth. Of course, I couldn’t really talk because my mouth was frozen. I attempted to, but I just sounded like a dribbling unrecognizable drunk person. Great. I can’t even ask this guy what’s taking so long I was thinking to myself. Tears began to seep gingerly from my eyes. My neck was killing me from pulling back against him. I motioned them to my neck. They put something behind my neck for more support. 45 minutes past. Still no tooth. I was getting frustrated. Why weren’t my teeth coming out? He kept going back and forth to other patient’s in-between this as well. There were maybe five little dental areas separated by a half wall that did not go to the ceiling so you could hear each person the side of you. He seemed to be getting frustrated although I know he was trying to act like everything was ok and it was no big thing. I think the freezing started to ware off because my mouth was getting sore and so was my neck. No doubt. He kept shouting over the various cubicles,

“Diane, Can you get me this other tool?”

They tried a new tool. Nothing. My teeth were not budging.  He yelled again across the cubicles,

“Lets try this tool. It’s got to work. Can you get me this tool please?”

He was getting more and more frustrated. As was I. The tears were running down my face and I could still hardly speak a clear sentence. And then he did the unthinkable. He put his knee up on my shoulder pulled hard on my tooth with whatever tool he had.

I screamed out loud from the back of my throat. He yanked again. I yelled again. I heard a child in the waiting room outside scream in response. Then I heard the per kid say, “Mommy, I’m scared. I don’t want to go in there!” Then he started to ball. The dental hygienists looked at one another wide-eyed. I would find out later from Alex who was waiting for me in the waiting room that the whole waiting room had jumped up when I screamed and all looked at each other no doubt wondering what was going on.

“More freezing.” The dentist told his dental assistant.

They gave me more freezing. Holy shit already can my mouth having any more freezing already?

“I’m sorry Katherine. I am not sure why this is taking so long. You’ve got stubborn teeth.”

The dentist finally got one tooth out. He then proceeded to take the next. He then told me that because it was taking so long he did not want to put me through this again so he was going to go ahead and take the other remaining two teeth totaling four. Gee Thanks. What do you want me to say here in the chair when I can’t speak because my mouth is so frozen? They never gave me laughing gas. I found out about that later. They could have given me that to help you know? I sat in the chair until it was all over. My neck had pulled against the force of his hands and his shoulders and I swear he had is boot on my shoulder at one point for a total of 4 hours. When it was all over he disappeared and came back with x-rays and a satisfied looking grin on his face.

“I know why it took so long Katherine. I hadn’t looked at these since you were booked. The x-rays your Orthodontist had sent over from Ottawa. Your teeth. Katherine, in my eleven years of dentistry I have never in all my life, seen someone with roots as big as yours. He took at a rule measure and measured them in from of me. See? Why they are almost 5 cm in length!” At this point I didn’t give a rats ass. Seriously. I was exhausted. I just wanted to get out of there and into my bed. I didn’t want to set foot inside another dentist office again. I walked out to a waiting room of curious and scared looking patients. Alex took me home and I went to bed.

I had a routine to follow when I returned home. I had to clean out my mouth and the holes where the tooth was every day to make sure they remained sterile. Hard to do balanced on one leg, but I did. Two weeks later I had the worst pain in my lower right side. God-awful pain. God bloody awful I tell you. I couldn’t fathom what was going on. It became unbearable and I wasn’t sleeping and eating. I was on the prescribed antibiotics and anti-inflammatory to reduce the pain and ward of infection so what was happening? I called the dentist and they told me that was abnormal and to come in right away.

“You have an abscess Katherine.”

“An ab what? What is an abscess and how did I get it? I don’t understand.”

“I gather it’s because your roots were so big. One of the areas in your gum where we removed your tooth has become infected. I can tell you’ve done a good job of cleaning, it’s pretty far down there and food can get stuck.” He gave me a different antibiotic and removed the debris and sent me home. Great. I’m having such a good time. Anything else you want to throw my way Universe?

{ to be continued… }

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Aways to go yet!

By Kate Flood
• 1:52pm • First “Write-In” at “Cafe Oh So Good”, Ottawa, ON
State of Being: Pretty flipp’n angry at a current life situation. Listening to “Dead Can Dance” which is excellent for flow writing I might add.

1/4 } Pilot’s Licence for a Porsche

{ Chapter 1 – Excerpt #4 }

“The Porsche 911 Accident” { Division Rd Bridge, Kingston, ON • October 21, 1995 }

Pilot’s Licence for a Porsche

{ continued… }

“Crazy was being in a car doing eight 360 degree turns at mock 112 km/hr and hydroplaning into a hydropole. Now that, that’s crazy!

“Seriously? You’ve got to be kidding me.” I was already holding all the muscles in my body tight, unable to relax, thinking that this would somehow control the car and keep it from spinning off again. And now the first snowfall. On the 401. Nice. The night of the accident it had rained hard all night. Snow was worse in my opinion. I couldn’t blame Alex for the snow, but it didn’t make me any more comfortable. God, and now it was getting colder. There was a blanket in the car and I covered my shoes with. It didn’t help. Cold feet. Cold interior and now cold air blowing in. It was a losing battle. One of my biggest pet peeves is cold feet. I was miserable. I grinned and bared it until we got back to my place in Kingston.

We got in and it felt weird being back in Kingston since the accident. I  didn’t sleep well. I was having nightmares. horrible nightmares. In fact, I had never had them this bad. They would jolt me out of my bed in the night gasping for air or breath and I’d want to scream. It felt like the wind was being knocked out of me and I couldn’t breathe. Sometimes they didn’t make any sense and sometimes I was in car and waking as the car was spinning out of control. I was really truly very scared each time I woke up. I wanted to be consoled. They were so loud and felt so real. Alex shook them off like they were nothing.“Normal” he said. I also remember going to walk down the stairs and the stairs took on a mushroom-like induced cartoon quality floating beneath my feet. I would go and put my foot down and the stairs would seem to move. I would find out later that this was Vertigo from the accident. If you’ve ever had you know it makes you want to hurl. I also found it incredibly unsettling as I though I was going crazy. No. No I wasn’t. Crazy was being in a car doing eight 360 degree turns at mock 112 km/hr and hydro planing into a hydropole. Now that, that’s crazy! Especially, especially if you were trying so hard to stop the car and stay alive instead of let go and pretend your on a merry-go-round. No such luck.

This wasn’t reassuring. The following day Alex asked me if he could leave the car in my driveway for a while. I said ok, but asked why. He said he didn’t have a place to store it back home. “What about you parents place?” I said. “They have plenty of driveway and a garage space.” Alex had always worked on cars and boats. He built his first small sailboat  when he was 15 years old so it was something they were accustomed too.

“I just don’t want to bring it back quite yet.” he quipped.

“Alright” I said. It was the least I could do given the circumstances. Then he asked me if he could stay with me for a while. We had never lived together and this was just the start of my second year into my degree. “Well, I’m not sure Alex. I need to consult with my 3 roommates first. For how long?” Just a week or  two he told me. I told him it would be ok for a bit. I found this all passing strange. Alex stayed. In the coming week, he explained that the Porsche he had rebuilt he wanted to flip and sell. This plan had obviously gone down the tubes. He had no money. I asked him how he got the other Porsche all of a sudden. I don’t remember the answer, but I do remember it was rather scant in details. I felt bad that he had lost the money he put into the car all to have it wrecked in a couple minutes. This was his source of income for now. It’s how he made a living.  And then he asked me something else. One more thing. Could I lend him some money to buy another Porsche so he could flip it and generate some income. You can’t write this stuff any better can you?

“Let me get this straight you want me to lend you my non-existent money – aka – student loan – that I need to survive on so you can buy another Porsche?” I was working at the Queen’s University Alumni Department part-time. This was my spending money. “Alex, if I do this, you know I need the money back right away. Well, I mean, you are gong to have to pay me back when I need it so I can pay my rent and bills, buy groceries etc. This is money I need to live off of.”

“Not a problem. As soon as I sell it, I can give you the money right back.” he said.

I lent him the money. It was a loan afterall. And he said he would pay me back. I trusted him. The rest of the week Alex had to take care of a couple matters regarding the accident.  He had to go down to the Kingston City hall. He asked if I could come with him and drive him back if he needed. “What do you mean?”

“I may need you to drive me out of the parking lot and back here after.”

“I don’t understand Alex.”

“Just come with me, I’m going now. Can you drive a Porsche?”

“Can I drive a Porsche? I have no idea if I can drive a Porsche. I’ve never driven one before. How would I know. It’s car isn’t it? I can drive stick.” My father had insisted on teaching my twin and I standard when we took our driving lessons. I grumbled under my mouth at the time, but I am and will be forever thankful he insisted we know how to drive standard whether we think we needed it or not. I love driving stick –  fast, with the music blaring. It drives me nuts to drive an automatic car. There’s no pick-up you know?  Aside from my parents teaching me to drive the car, it was also Alex in my late teens who spent hours in the Toy’R’Us parking lot and the back roads of Manotick teaching me to drive standard. I think I have a pretty smooth transition. “You know I know how to drive stick Alex.”

He smirked and gave me this – oh you’re so innocent you have no idea kind of look. “This isn’t a normal stick Kate.” “It’s a Porsche 911 Targa.”

“Yahh, yah, yah I know – whatever. Pretty car. Every guys dream car. I know. Why is it different to drive this standard car?”

He smirked again. “You’ll see. Can you do it or not?”

“You’re not really giving me any choice on the way there are you now?” I asked him if he wanted me to join him inside the courthouse for moral support. He said no, to stay outside. ‘What are you going in there for anyways Alex?”

“I gotta go. Just stay in the car.”

Great. Trapped in now my favorite car. How lovely. He was in there for about 40 minutes. I was thinking to myself this is ridiculous, I’m going in. I headed inside and saw him standing in the wooden pews in the courtroom. It was intimidating. The constable recognized me and seem to give a consoling look wondering if I was ok. She came to me and asked if I needed anything.  It felt like the look on her face seemed to suggest, why was I with this guy? She said something like, “You were in a really serious car accident Katherine. You know one of the constables remarked after seeing the way your car seemed to be projectiled into the hydro-pole it he had a pilot’s licence to drive that thing.”  Alex turned and came down the aisle and saw me. The constable  handed me her card. At first he seemed irked, but then he gave his normal sheepish smile. He said “let’s go. He seemed to be in a rush and looking everywhere around him paranoid. He was angry. He told me, “ok you do have to drive.”

I got into the driver’s side of the Porsche. The seat dropped way back and it was hard to reach the peddles. I started the car. The car stuttered and stalled. “Oh” I said, “this is a bit harder.”

“Try again,” he said. “You’re going to have to push all the way down on the clutch and just enough on the gas. It’s going to want to go quick, so don’t be scared about the big jump, just ease of slow”

I tried again. The car sputtered and stalled.
“The engine is so loud.”“Why is it so loud Alex?”

Alex was angry. “Just go again. No, actually let me drive get out and I’ll drive.”

“I thought you couldn’t drive out of here?”

“Ugh, I can’t. Fine, just go.” I tried it one more time. Zoom! Third times always a charm for me. God, its got pick-up! God it seemed to jump from 0km/hr to 40km/hr instantly. I can see why a strong majority of guys want to drive this car. It scared me. I thought it might jump to far forward and hit a tree or something! I kept easing on and off the gas to slow us down and we were inevitably jumping forward and backward like a first timer trying to learn stick. Heck, I didn’t even drive this unstable when I was learning stick!

“Turn the corner Kate and stop the car. I’m going to drive the rest of the way.”

“I thought you…”

Alex interrupted me. “Just get us out of the lot. I can’t let anyone see me drive off of the lot!” he yelled.

I was confused. I didn’t say anything on the short 5 minute ride home.

Alex stayed for a couple weeks. He said he had found a Porsche here in Kingston to buy and flip and he would need my money. I went with him to see this car I was buying. This Porsche. It was red. A little more modern 80’s Porsche. The grill sat real low that it was practically sitting on the road. Actually it was kind of tacky if you ask me. Alex said he would be able to flip it easily though. I bought the car. For a few days, I was the owner of a shiny red Porsche…that I never drove once.

{ to be continued… }

Love to Hear From You • I would love to hear what you think. Write what you want { kind words } by clicking  in the text~box below.
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This is the official link to my novel blog:

Aways to go yet!

By Kate Flood
• 11:15pm • First “Write-In” at “Cafe Oh So Good”, Ottawa, ON
State of Being: Looking forward to more words. Listening to “Boards of Canada – Telephasic workshop.”

1/3 } Pilot’s Licence for a Porsche

{ Chapter 1 – Excerpt #3}

{ “The Porsche 911 Accident” }

Pilot’s Licence for a Porsche

“I explained we had been in a “bit” of an accident. “Bit” was an understatement to say the least. The pale description was also swallowed when the flatbed pulled up with Alex’s crumpled Porsche on it. That’s what it looked like. A crumpled Porsche.”

When morning came, I’m not sure if anyone had slept in the room at all. Wait, that’s not true. Perhaps my father did – he’s always been a good sleeper. Maybe he slept for all of us that night. I don’ think my mother slept much. I imagine I passed in and out. Kingston felt surreal in the morning. ‘Felt like the night hadn’t really happened. That this wasn’t really happening you know?  It was Saturday so no class for sure. I’m not entirely sure how the rest of the weekend unfolded. I know we returned to my University house I was sharing with 3 roommates. My friend Carrie who we had dropped off had actually been worried and wondered where we were. I can’t say enough how thankful I am we dropped her off. I explained we had been in a “bit” of an accident. “Bit” was an understatement to say the least. The pale description also was swallowed when the flatbed pulled up with Alex’s crumpled Porsche on it. That’s what it looked like. A crumpled Porsche. The mouths of my roommates dropped when they saw the car get dropped off outside my doorstep.You were in that Kate?” they said. “How did you get out? God, your so lucky to be alive.” They were right. You see, this was the first I would actually see the car. I couldn’t see when we spun out, when we stopped, when I got out and when I left – it was always pitch black. That’s when it hit me, just how lucky we were.

I forgave Alex right away. Not verbally, but as a matter of course, I never held him accountable. Afterall, it was an accident. He didn’t mean to do this. I don’t know why the car started to spin out. He wouldn’t do this on purpose right? I went home with my parents immediately to recuperate. I wasn’t moving very fast and was in quite a bit of pain in still in my mouth and leg. Alex came with us. My mother set me up in the tv room like she always did when one of is was sick. She was the best nurse. I don’t know another mother that sets up a “get better bay” like her. Alex stayed another night. I remember him talking to his bestfriend and his parents. He didn’t mention the accident. He said everything is fine when his friend asked why he needed to be picked up. I asked him why he didn’t say anything to his bestfriend and his parents. He said he was ready yet. That we would tell them in person. Looking back. I was too forgiving. Too kind. I should have seen the signs right then and there that the lies would continue, but I didn’t. I thought it was a reasonable answer.

I stayed home for one week. I was pretty wiped, but at 21 I had a lot of energy so one over takes the other. My father was worried about my studies and wanted me to return. I felt I had disappointed them both and that I was responsible for this car accident. I went back to school feeling guilty. Alex offered to drive me back. I was a little unnerved about this. Ironically, the courting part of our relationship – having grown up in the country and in compete opposite sides of the city – was driving in cars. And I used to tell him I never felt safer then I did driving with him through the backroads, summer wind in my hair (oh so cliché) and the soundtrack of our puppie-love blaring out the speakers of his Triumph Spitfire. God, I used to have my arms flailing out the window with the wind taken control of them screaming Where the Streets Have No Name at the top of my lungs. { FYIIt’s an excellent driving song! } But now, now I was reluctant. I hadn’t been in a car all week since I got myself out of his. I told him I’d take the train. He offered again and said it would be ok. I’d like to add here that our relationship was over. Way over. But we did that terrible train wreck thing with your first love where you go back and forth. I had known him now since I was 16 years old after meeting him at the summer camp where we were counsellors together. I had just celebrated my 21st birthday two weeks prior to the accident. We were phone buddies for 2 years before we tried dating.

He insisted he take me back to Kingston. “Alright” I said. Maybe he was trying to be chivalrous. You know, he got me into this mess and he’ll get me out, not wanting to trouble my parents kind of thing. I packed and got ready for school. My mouth was a mess. A tangled cut up mess with braces to match. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to hanging out in the halls of school again. I did know that I couldn’t miss more school and did want to get back for that reason. Alex would pick me up the following day. I told him I preferred to leave in the day before night fell so I could see the roads and feel safer. He said no problem. Flashback to my highschool prom and the excitement of wanting to show up in his convertible Spitfire as a treat. He showed up – late…in the beat-up camp pick-up truck. Oh, the signs. Why didn’t I pay attention to them? The autumn dusk was looming and Kingston was a 2 hour drive away ( although he managed it one hour and 25 minutes one time). I heard a horn honk in the driveway. It was Alex and it night had already fallen. I was relieved anyways for him to be there to take me back. I walked out to the car. As I came into the light of the cars reflection from the moon, I was confused. It was a Porsche. “Alex! Is this a Porsche? You’re kidding me. Alex! This isn’t funny. How can you show up here with the same car we almost died in last week? Where did you get this car?” “You’ll be fine Kate. Get it. It’s ok. I’ll drive slow.” he said reassuringly? “Alex! Please. This isn’t funny.” The emotions my body was going through were uncontrollable. There was no way in hell I was getting back into the same car on a 2 hour drive in the dark.” I felt bad for him. Showing up to take me back. But how could he show up the same make of car? A Porsche is no ordinary car right? I so reluctantly got in that car. I didn’t feel relaxed. I didn’t feel excited to be driving with him. I was on edge the whole time. It felt cold in the car. It was the last week of October and the cold front had started all ready.
“Alex, why is it so cold in the car?”
“Well, ” he smirked with a bowed head. “Actually, the heater’s don’t work.”
“Alex! That’s not cool. My feet are freezing. That’s not remotely funny Alex.”
And then the first snow started to fall on the highway…

Love to Hear From You • I would love to hear what you think. Write what you want { kind words } by clicking on the cute “comment” balloon above right or in the text~box below.
• You can also follow me on twitter { runninghearts } and
• Click ‘Like’ on my Facebook page for the novel { Kate Flood Author }

This is the official link to my novel blog:

Aways to go yet!

By Kate Flood
• 8:33pm • At home by the fire and candle light
State of Being: Kind of peeved. Having a rum-and-coke and listening to “Tea in the Sahara” by The Police…”

1/2 } Pilot’s Licence for a Porsche

{ Chapter 1 – Excerpt #2 }

{ “The Porsche 911 Accident”  }

Pilot’s Licence for a Porsche

‘My mother said, “Geez Martin, who ever was in that car didn’t make it out alive.”  The two of them looked at each other, clued in and my father put to the pedal to the metal.’

“Katie, Katie. Where is my daughter? Nurse, please. Where is Kate Flood?” My mom is standing a fluster near the foot of my bed. I am wheeling my self out of the washroom and trying to respond to her but my voice seems to get lost in the air. I don’t know why I couldn’t’ talk very loud. My throat kind of hurt, but I didn’t remember screaming for very long. “Mom, Mom, I’m right here. Mom!” She turns and sees me. “Oh Katie. God. Are you ok? Honey where are you bleeding. Is this your blood all over the sheets?” I’m ok mom. I mean, I’ll be fine. Yes, it’s my bed, but I think it’s Alex’s blood. I don’t know.” I hadn’t looked in the mirror in the washroom on account of the height. Little did I know that in an effort to protect my skull, the one place on my body that did get cut up was my mouth. I’m not sure how, but the force of something banged my arms into my mouth pretty hard. The windshield of the car had completely blown out of the car and all the glass fired into my mouth and scalp. My mouth was cut up pretty bad from the glass and the rest of it was in my mouth and had gone down my throat. To make matters worst, I had just had braces put on. The dentist left off the tiny yellow elastics that cover the sharp metal brackets on my teeth, so with the impact my arms had lodged all four quadrants of my gums onto my brackets. That’s why I was having a hard time talking. How the heck are they going to come off?

My mother was asking where Alex was and if he was ok. I told her they seem to be ignoring us. She found Alex in the bed adjacent to mine. The cops had been going in and out for some time and with the haze I was in I was just concentrating on myself. My mom went to his bedside. He was still bleeding really bad. “Doctor, doctor, can we please get some help over here. He is bleeding profusely. Alex had cut the artery in his neck. Probably a piece of glass that went hurling at him. His neck was just spewing blood everywhere.

My father appeared. I remember feeling sad, like I had disappointed them. Mom had disappeared and had been gone some time after the doctor came and finally stitched Alex up. I remember the first doctor came and said, “Oh, I can’t do this. I’m a resident, this is to big for me.” My mother was like, “Well, Get on it then. Get the doctor please.” After my mom made sure Alex was being taken care of she seemed to be gone for some time. “Where’s mom?” I asked my Dad. “Oh she’s outside.” “Outside, I’m thinking, why is she outside?” I hobbled over to the ER sliding doors. When I got near the sensor the ER doors slid open to reveal my mother  slumped on the concrete, bowled over. “God, mom, what are you doing? Are you ok?” She was surprised to see me, “Katie, honey, I’m fine. Go back inside. I’ll be in in a minute.” Hmm, strange I remember thinking to myself. Probably having a smoke. Why was she on the ground though? I would later find out she had been pretty much been stuck there like glue hurling. Nerves. Damn straight I guess. This is how they’re part of the night unfolded. When the nurses called my folks at their hotel, they were obviously surprised to receive the call. “Mr.Flood? Your daughter’s been in an accident.” said the nurse. “An accident. What kind? Well is she alright?” my father asked. “I’m sorry but we cannot give any details. Car accident. Please come to the Kingston General Hospital.”My mom and Dad got out of bed stunned and the two of them stood swaying on either side of the bed not going anywhere. Shock kicking in.“I guess we better get going then.”

The accident happened on the busiest weekend of the entire Queen’s year, Alumni Weekend. Queen’s no doubt has gone down in history as having the most rebel rousing football game and weekend of festivities for it’s students and alumni. It has since been squashed significantly to maintain the health and safety of everyone on campus. My father happened to be there for his 25 year MBA Reunion. I don’t think he’d been back until this reunion. It just so happens that along side the rest of the alumni, my parents were staying in a hotel right off the 401 and the main thoroughfare – Division road – where the accident happened. They got in the car and took off, no doubt in a haze. Katie doesn’t have a car they said to themselves. Oh, must be Alex visiting from Ottawa. Great – thats all we need. They drove down Division road bridge, as they drove up the hill, the there wrapped around a hydro pole was a car wreck.  It was Alex’s porsche 911. The accident had turned into a bit of a road show for all the passerby’s wanting to see their dream car, a Porsche 911 Targa wrapped around a hydro pole. Yup, I said a hydro pole. That’s what brought us “slowly” to a halt. As mom and dad approached the wreck, they slowed down. My mother said, “Geez Martin, who ever was in that car didn’t make it out alive.”  The two of them looked at each other, clued in and my father put to the pedal to the metal. He was driving the cherry Voyageur mini-van, but I wonder if he was imagining he had the pick-up of his ’67 Stingray Corvette. Speed demons never die.

When they made it to the hospital and my mother saw the blood stained sheets and me nowhere to be seen, well, you can imagine what went through her head and why she was laid up on the concrete outside the ER. The doctor came over finally and told me my leg wasn’t broken. He said these things can feel like they’re broken, but that I was just severely bruised by the impact of the hydro pole. He gave me crutches. “Now then, to deal with you’re mouth.” ‘What’s wrong with my mouth doc?” “Your braces have latched onto your gums. I am going to have to get them off.” “Ahh, geezuz.” I quipped. “I can’t get at your gums because your mouth is lodged around them, so I’m sorry, this is going to hurt a lot, but I’m going to have to put this freezing needle through your face. “Holy fuck!” (I don’t know if I said that then, but I’m saying it now). It’s going to hurt because normally these are for your teeth, but we’re going to have to put it through the skin on your face and then through to the gums behind.” he said non-chalantly.  It’s going to hurt and you’re not going to get any relief until I get through your gums. “Ahh Geezuz.” The doctor put the needle in my upper right side, my upper left side, my upper left side and my lower right side. ‘Fuck-goddamnnnnn – it hurt. Shit. Four times. Nice. Thanks. Great, now I’m kill’n everywhere and now I can’t even talk –wahhh! Take me home now please.

I think we waited for Alex. My parents took us back to their hotel. I told them Alex was on his own. I don’t remember sleeping much even though I was so exhausted. My neck was so sore. I could hardly stay in one position for a second. At one point there was some guy going ape-shit outside our hotel room. All I could hear was someone yelling and cursing blood curdling blasphmies at the top of his lungs. “Mother-fucking. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck…..Ahhhhh…whap…whap…..” The guy seemed to be hitting the ground with something. Maybe he was channeling the Queen’s Engineering frosh by banging his leather coat on the ground? Wait. Mystery solved. I know that voice. It was Alex. Taking out some anger on the lawn I guess. That will teach him not to have bald tires on his car. You see, Alex had a history with cars. He had rebuilt this Porsche this past summer, all summer long. ‘Bought the car, completely rebuilt it complete with brand new engine and $500 Targa insignia detailing all to total it on…his first test drive to Kingston. He also didn’t have automobile insurance….to even have it on the road. Smooth move ex-lax. Smooth move. And you took passengers in it? Your first love? My roommate Carrie was with us when we left the car. We – thankfully – dropped her off on the way down Division road to get gas. Carrie and been in the front of the car and I squished in the back. I quiver to think what would have happened had we both remained in the car. I was so thankful she was home safe and sound. She had quite the surprise when I arrived the following morning and had wondered where we were the rest of the night.

Love to Hear From You • I would love to hear what you think. Write what you want { kind words } by clicking on the cute “comment” balloon above right or in the text~box below. You can also follow me on twitter { runninghearts } and ‘Like’ my facebook page for  { Kate Flood Author }

This is the official link to my novel blog:

Aways to go yet!

By Kate Flood
• 8:33pm • At home by the fire and candle light
State of Being: Tired. Slept 13 hours last night. And the same song line keeps popping out in my head from “My Morning Jacket” – “There’ll be a knock on your door…”

What Surviving 5 Car Accidents and Being Held at Gunpoint was all about…

“Running From My Heart” – My Novel Blog for the “NaNoWriMo” Worldwide 500,000 Word Novel in 30 Days Contest…

"The Porsche 911 Accident" { Division Rd Bridge, Kingston, ON • October 21, 1995 }

This is my story of the Unbelievable, why it happened to me and how it can help you in your own life…

NaNoWriMo • In 1:04:54:18, “NaNoWriMo” { The National Writer’s Month } launches a worldwide contest open to anyone to write a 500,000 page { 1,667 words per day } novel in 30 days during the month of November. An incredible challenge, it’s not for the faint of heart or the technology-challenged. My life story has been on the back-burner for sometime and a last-minute procrastinator this challenge is right up my alley { Most of my University papers were all nighters the night before they were due }. Have I done this before? Absolutely not. I’ve written poetry and I am waiting to have my Children’s book published, but I have never written to this scale. However, the amount to which I can ramble is probably unsurpassed, so I think this will be an easy task. The NaNoWriMo people boost wavering writing enthusiasts by saying, “It’s all about quantity, not quality.” The idea behind the contest is to get ‘er done so-to-speak, instead of only dreaming about writing the novel.

The Porsche 911 • I officially start the novel in 1 day on Tuesday, November 30, 2011. This blog is where I will write the whole story about the picture of the car accident you see above and all the rest of my trips to the ER. I was sitting in the passenger right side where the hydro-pole has launched itself. Don’t ask me how I got out. Angels got me out is all I can say. Angels. I’ll fill you in on Tuesday.

Want to Write a Novel? • There will be so-called “Write-Ins” all around the world during the month where participants can go to coffee shops plug away en masse. ‘Got something you’ve always wanted to write and haven’t?

Join NaNoWriMo here and write your own novel:

Love to Hear From You • I would love to hear what you think. Write what you want { kind words } by clicking on the cute “comment” balloon above right or in the text~box below. This is the official link to my novel blog:

Until the official launch or tomorrow…
Wish me Luck!

By Kate Flood
• Chapters / Indigo( Rideau Centre, Ottawa )/Starbucks (Elgin St.)
State of Being: Feeling hopeful. Staying ‘a float from my sinking heart. Headphones cranked up to “My Morning Jacket” so I can’t hear the high-pitched girl-chat going on next to me.