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A hearty feast of free readings, lectures, presentations, workshops and showcases celebrating our culture, community and the wild blue yonder.
 Where inquiring minds gather.
Okanagan Institute
at Hanna's Lounge
Click here for schedule
and information. |
Arts Council of the Central Okanagan is a resource centre and advocate for the arts in Kelowna and Central Okanagan. Find us at:
8-1304 Ellis Street
Kelowna BC V1Y 1Z8
Phone: 250.861.4123
Fax: 250.861.4155
Email: Click here
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Join the Arts Council of the Central Okanagan today and you will:
» Meet people who are involved in our arts community, and stay informed.
» Receive our weekly email newsletter, The Junction.
» Become eligible for group member grants.
» Have a worthy advocate to protect your artistic and cultural rights.
» Be able to join ARTSCO's special projects.
Click here to apply.
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Literary Arts
Love Misplaced Patricia A.Donahue
"You know Bob called me Monday night and said we don't have to see each other anymore. I don't have to call him. 'Get on with your life', he said," the younger woman opens the conversation. She pushes her bag of toiletries along to the far end of the counter, making room for her round-bottomed friend, to set down hers. They stand at the solitary sink in the campground's washroom, engrossed in the ritual of bedtime grooming. Their heads sway, arc-like, as they take turns using the square mirror with its diagonal crack.
"Well, the night before last, its eleven p.m. and who calls, but him," she continues. He says, 'Whadda ya doin'?' I say, 'I'm gettin' ready for bed.' He says, 'The clutch broke. Can you come get me?' He's been playing golf till four p.m. and you can bet he's drunk - with all those hours to do it. And me? I'm starting a new shift in the morning. The five-thirty. But anyways, I go get him - up at Cougar Creek. I get home and its two a.m. and I gotta be at work at five-thirty."
"You're a fool," says round-bottomed, raising her voice above the slap-slap noises of moths whacking themselves against the ceiling's bare light bulb.
"Yes, I know. That's what Mildred said, too."
She speaks while winding clumps of brassy coif into plats. Opening the hairpins against her front teeth, she inserts two per circle, in a criss-crossed holding pattern. Campfire fumes suddenly drift in and trigger a cough. She rushes to shove the door closed.
"On the way," she picks up again, her voice now wheezy, "as I'm driving along, he says, 'Could you just lift your shirt up a bit? Show me that nice waist of yers.' And I sez, 'I'll see your waist, all right. You old boozer!'
"Imagine? What a skunk!" says round-bottom, tone indignant.
"So then, when we get to his place, he says, 'You can stay over Š a little hanky-panky, maybe?' And he staggers toward me. 'Hanky-panky, my butt,' I say and scoot under his arm. Gees, the swaggerer can't even find his own bedroom. And Š"
"What gaul!"
"Now, he's the one who's saying, 'Don't call me no more. You got your dang-it money. Haven't ya?' His last words."
"You should send him a bill," round-bottom pipes in. "For your gas, for your time. Yeah. I'll help you make up an invoice." She flicks her towel at a mosquito alight on the pale skin of her tree-trunk of an ankle.
"Maybe," says brassy-haired.
"You shoulda just told him to call BCAA."
"I did. I even offered for him to use my card. Well, whatta you do?" she shrugged. "Old drunk! And he thinks I wanna call him." Her eyebrows shot up, making two even arches. 'Dream on, you stupid old lush,' I says."
Not missing a beat, she soldiered on. "But I gotta tell ya. On this new shift I got?" She eyed her companion. "Would you know it, eh? There's this good-lookin' fella; just a little balding on top, but seems like a nice guy."
"Yeah," replies round-bottom as both, in unison, stuff their cosmetic bags and zip them shut. With towels slung over their shoulders, they saunter toward the door and pin-curled one says, turning back with a wink.
"We'll be working together, that redhead and me. Yeah, the five-thirty." Her broad smile sports a sparkle of freshly brushed teeth.
"Yeah, but does he drink?" Came the punctuating words, as they disappeared into the half-mooned darkness of the forested campground.
Born in Canada, on the eastern seaboard, into a family with a tradition in storytelling, she recently completed her first full-length novel, Mighty Orion - A Novel, a family saga set in a background of tall ship seafaring and maritime lore.
Presently residing in the Okanagan Valley, she happily writes away in the midst of its surrounding beauty and basking sunshine. A strong interest in human behaviour emanates from her working background as a counseling psychologist.
We invite submissions from writers.
» The story or poem should not be over 2000 words and must be your own original work. All submissions must be word processed and emailed to us at our email address.
» Submissions must include your complete contact information: Name, Telephone, Email, Mailing Address.
» Please also include a short biography and if possible a small photo of yourself.
» The anonymity of all that submit a story or poem will be respected. Contact details supplied as part of your submission will not be disclosed to any third party.
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