Mid-August means Artist Trading Cards night at the Confederation Centre of the Arts, the yearly skunkworks “50 people bring 50 cards of their own creation, and leave with one of everyone else’s” event that Monique Lafontaine keeps alive, year after year, through sheer force of will. I only hopped on board the train in 2017, and have gone twice since (2018, 2020), taking off 2019 for the exigencies.

This year was a collaborative effort: Olivia sketched out an idea about “being your true self” and handed it to me a few weeks ago; I mulled over how to bring it to life. I mulled until I could mull no longer: Wednesday night, with nothing to show for myself, and ink that, in this humidity, needed at least overnight to dry, it was go-time.

I dug some “woodgrain” business cards out of the stash I inherited from Bill and Gertie Campbell, and set some type: “find your true self.” In 24 point Bodoni bold, one of my favourites of the fonts I hold.

I printed 10 of those.

Then changed things up: “mind your true self.”

Then “wind your true self.”

Followed by ”unbind your true self,” “remind your true self,” “unbind your true self,” and, finally, “be your true self.”

The humidity did, indeed, cause drying to take a long long time; the shiny woodgrain cards didn’t help. By showtime they were still a little tacky, but not too much to transport and set out in Memorial Hall:

Forty-five minutes later, this was what was left:

Here’s a pie chart showing the popularity of each of the six variants:

As I wrote to some fellow artists yesterday, I was somewhat dispirited that “be your true self” was the winner: it was a last-minute addition to the mix, and fell outside of the rhyming scheme. Perhaps that was why it was popular? I was happy that “remind” and “unbind” came second, as they were my clear favourites.

I am very much a creature of habit, and switching out my habits on a seasonal basis is like turning a gravel boat.

Which is to say: I have a lovely back garden, with a table and chairs and an umbrella, and apple and plum trees to stare at, and birds to listen to, yet this morning—August 13!—is the first morning this year I’ve had my breakfast outside.

Now that the gravel boat is righted, I hope to be back here until the snow flies.

Olivia and I were sitting in the floor of Memorial Hall at the Confederation Centre of the Arts when I spied a plaque I hadn’t seen before, a plaque marking the 50th anniversary of the Centre in 2014 that was unveiled on May 20.

“That’s odd,” I thought, “surely I would have remembered such a royal visit.”

We looked at my photo archive to prove that we had no knowledge of the visit. We were wrong.

One of the great things about my subscription to everything Microcosm Publishing publishes is that I get a regular delivery of books I simply wouldn’t find my way to otherwise.

The number of drive in movie theatres on PEI has doubled with the arrival of The Runway Drive In in Summerside.

It is, quite literally, almost right on the runway at Slemon Park (née CFB Summerside). The programming appears to be a mixture of films new and old: this weekend it will be Footloose, Grease, and The Secrets We Keep.

I still haven’t quite gotten over the closure of the Princess Pat Drive In in Cascumpec, and it seemed unlikely that the Island would see another in the west. I hope they do well.

Kudos to Little Black Dress in Summerside for welcoming everyone.

Thelma relates wise words from Steven:

This isn’t happening to you; it is just happening.

Those words helpfully encapsulate an ad hoc philosophy I came to organically. Of necessity.

They also are at the heart of what Scott Shute, Head of Mindfulness and Compassion at LinkedIn, espouses in an interview on the Good Life Project podcast. In part:

Yes, I’m Scott, I have these big dreams, and I’m going to do everything I possibly can to make those dreams come true, and… I gotta let it go. I gotta do the parts that I’m responsible for, and then if life wants to happen around me, or the universe wants to evolve around me, I don’t control any of that.

When you order a pour-over at The Shed, it’s served in a tiny perfect Brewista carafe.

Having sketched all the buildings I can see from the patio there, I turned my pen to sketch my coffee.

I’m still trying to grok sketching round openings at an angle, so the top is a little wonky, but there are other things about the way this turned out that I like.

My friends—and neighbours, colleagues, landlords—at St. Paul’s Anglican Church tell the story of the intentional destruction of a bold statement of Pride: the “rainbow staircase” leading up into the Parish Hall was removed by vandals.

While this is egregious by any measure, it’s particularly egregious for me: there has been no more welcoming and supportive a community since Olivia came out as the St. Paul’s community. The love, support, and solidarity they’ve shown our family has been breathtaking.

Desecrating a powerful symbol of that solidarity is wounding: to Olivia, to me, to the faith community of St. Paul’s, to our neighbourhood, and to the larger 2SLGBTQI+ community. To all of us.

“We pray that whoever did this will open their heart and see God’s love everywhere,” the church wrote; it’s difficult to find such equanimity when faced with a threat that strikes so viscerally.