This image comes from a series of woodcuts related to the concept of regionality. Aldergrove is the area that I was raised as a youth, filled with lush greenery it would seem regionaly different to a visitor from Alberta. However, individuals from the neighbouring areas would also feel that Aldrgrove is a distict region from their own although they have a similar culture, geography, flora and fawna. 

I take part in a life drawing group known as LAUGH. This is one of the peices that I produced durring one of these sessions. 

Burning Noses, Running Noses, Bleeding Noses

Three stories all involving noses but otherwise loosely connected. A few days ago I sneezed, and then there was the moment after. The moment were usually you simply carry on. However, this was not to be one of those moments. Rather my nose began to bleed. This oddly enough remided me of two other events the phenomena of the 200th and the Bypass nosepicking party (Running noses), and the time I discovered a hockey stick in my eye socket. After reading this you may wonder why then do I start this post with Burning noses, well in the eagerness to create a profile, sorry for the wait Lady K, I was posed the question, how would you toast your mashmallows after slaying a dragon. My answer however, was too complex which led me here where again my topic expanded.

The expected answers to the above question I suppose, is over the flesh of the dead dragon,wait a minute...No fire source, damn, over a fire, to a nice crispy brown and so on. My answer, typically is not even close to one of these. Once, my auntie was sitting around a campfire roasting mashmallows (although she had not slain a dragon). And as is common to the over-zealous and impatient roaster, her marshmallow became a glowing inferno. With speed, she drew the marshmallow out of the fire and with the look of one practiced in the procedure she pursed her lips to blow it out. The Marshmallow however, did not comply, it landed on her nose causing an intense burning sensation. Without the power of her pursed lips to help her the marshmallow continued to burn until it caused a wound requiring the skills of plastic surgeon to repair... Careful.

There are some odd places in the world that cannot be explained though normal means. For example, the Bermuda triangle, Aldergrove the agreed upon armpit of the world...(I'm not sure why?) and so on. One of these places is the intersection between 200th street in Langley and the Bypass. This place attracts the most nose pickers I have ever seen at once. Now everyone understands a little itch, or a quick wipe, perhaps their is no tissue, or they don't care. However, the intersection collects scads of people losing knuckles on the way to modest trophies. I'm sure there are others who would agree there is no other place like this, and that oddly it is beyond even my ability to truly describe. Nosepicker to the right of you nosepicker to the left and here I am, stuck in the traffic with you..

finally, when I was in elementary school I used to get nosebleeds a lot. I was that kid that would get mad turn red and boom, nosebleed. I would get into fights with other kids, never get punched once and look like I lost the bout. However, the worst injury I sustained in elementary school was not a nosebleed. As most good Canadian kids do at recess we played ball hockey. We played with those crappy plastic sticks and the orange ball. The plastic sticks have the flexible blades that wear down into thin devices that seem better designed to cut grass than pass hockey balls, furthermore they had a flexible plastic shaft, and this was my downfall. On the end of the stick is supposed to be a rubber cap. However, kids would take this off so that they could use the end of the stick to dig holes in the dirt, or some other activity. Jack was really the only kid in grade five who could slap the ball at high speed, we all used wrist shots. Jack was the biggest kid, and he really liked to dig in the dirt with the end of his stick he wound up for one of his great shots just as I was running past him. I was so lucky I caught the end of the stick with my eye socket and ran away with it. It didn't hurt but shocked me quite a bit. This time instead of running to the office holding my nose, I ran with that stick. Somewhere along the path the stick pulled itself free from the socket and I held my face as I made the rest of the journey. Upon seeing me stumble in the receptionist looked up with calm that resulted from seeing me a few times a week. Ryan, nosebleed again?