It’s pretty remarkable that now that the rain has started to fall, we’re not out in the tent somewhere as that’s the way things usually go with us and summer rain.

This year, a piddly 0.2 mm on July 3 and the same amount two days later means we’re out of the running for the driest July on record. Not bad, though, considering the normal rainfall in July is about 40 mm. [VancouverSun]

With the lack of rain comes the elevated forest fire danger and along with that comes a single lightning bolt or careless person and our Province’s forests burn.

Photo credit: tbatty on Flickr

Aside from the risk of fire, it’s also worthy to be aware of smart water consumption as levels plummet during these arid times. The Province has developed some guidelines and reading materials that can help British Columbians live water smart.

From protecting our drinking water to learning how to do business in a more sustainable way in terms of water consumption, this issue can often be overlooked by so many of us that live around so much water all the time. You can take a quick survey to find out just how water smart you are.

It turns out my household’s “water footprint” is 93,214 litres per person, per year. Seeing as how we don’t have a lawn to water or a car to wash, I thought were were doing pretty good but that number still scares me.

The idea of being conscious of our water usage and decisions should be one that we carry with us year-round. You can get more tips on the Living Water Smart website, and find out why drinking bottled water is far less eco-friendly than having a glass from the tap.

I am a big fan of the Stanley Park Ecology Society and the good work they go in the park – from guided walks to ive busters maintenance of the natural landscape. They have an upcoming event highlighting the flying squirrel (yes, there are flying squirrels in Stanley Park) that I would like to mention here.

“On Saturday, August 9, 2008,the Stanley Park Ecology Society proudly presents Flying Squirrels: Denizens of the Dark, an entertaining and uniquely educational program for audiences of all ages.

Photo credit: ricmcarthur on Flickr

The program will begin with a snappy musical introduction provided by the Stanley Park Ecology Society’s Jarrid Jenkins – a huge flying squirrel fan. He will then introduce naturalist Steve Patterson, a good friend and business partner of Sabrina and Scooter (the Northern and Southern flying squirrels living in Steve’s care). For the next hour and a half, they intend to introduce everyone to the fascinating lives that these little mammals lead when the sun goes down and people are asleep. Forget about an expensive circus – come and see these real acrobats at work and play!”

Proceeds from this event will benefit the Stanley Park Ecology Society, a non-profit, community-based organization connecting people with nature through education and stewardship initiatives in Stanley Park for 20 years.

What: Flying Squirrels: Denizens of the Dark
Where: West End Community Centre
When: Saturday, August 9, 2008
Show time: 10:15am (Doors at 9:45am) – noon

Tickets are $7 each and children under one-year-old are FREE. Tickets can be purchased online through the West End Community Centre’s program registration.

The Blogathon was not my creation, it’s something that has been around for many years and since its usual organizers decided to take a break for 2008, I picked up the torch for a mini Vancouver version. There were others who also decided it shouldn’t completely cease to be this year and they have been doing the Day of Blogs this weekend as well.

In the summer of 2000, blogger Cat Connor decided that a free weekend could be combined with a marathon session of insomnia to have some fun with her personal website. In fact, Cat decided to update frytopia every 15 minutes for an entire 24 hours, for a total of 96 posts over the course of a single day…

… The first annual event occurred in 2001, when Cat invited friends and other bloggers to join her in her sleepless marathon. Over a hundred participants stayed awake on July 28 and 29, some doing so in spectacular fashion: there were virtual mix tapes, physical collages, shoes aplenty, and even dreams for the sleepy. Altogether, bloggers raised over $20,000 for 77 different charities in 2001.

… Numbers again doubled in 2003, with over $100,000 raised for charity. 2004 saw a break for the official Blogathon, with Project-Blog taking over for a year. in 2005, staff from previous Blogathons took over, bringing in over $58,000.

… In 2006 year, the original administrator, Cat Connor, returned. She brought Rob Drimmie, her programmer from ’02, and Sheana Director, who handled the event in ’05.

If you have the chance, head over to the Day of Blogs website to check out their list of Bloggers that we have all been publishing alongside for the last few days.

I just thought that now was as good a time as any to explain the Blogathon and why all of us have stayed up all weekend for our causes.

The following was written and contributed by Keira-Anne

I needed to share a story – any story. After some consideration, however, I realized that not just any story would do. Perhaps I could trick myself into finding inspiration. My desk was scattered with random papers, a can of half-drank Dr. Pepper my cell phone and a bottle of nail polish – on hand for random touch-ups. I pushed my chair away from the mess and stood up to stretch out. Walking to the window, I was greeted with nothing but the first few drops of a warm summer rainfall. “Comfort,” I thought to myself. Rain has always been my friend.

Stepping away from the window and towards the stereo, I popped in something The Police recorded before I was even born. Anything in an attempt to rid “Super Trouper” from looping over and over again in my head. I tapped my nails on the edge of my speaker shelf with a rhythm any percussionist would be impressed with. Nope, ABBA’s still hanging on. I paced. I nursed what was left of my diet soda. I walked into my miniscule bathroom and stared at my skin very closely in the mirror. I paced some more until finally deciding to shove my feet into sneakers, grab my keys and shut the front door behind me.

By now, the summer raindrops had turned into a summer downpour. Pulling my hoodie up over my head, I gently tucked the few stray brunette tresses inside the hood and behind my ears. The rain still dropped on the tip of my nose. My walk turned into a slow jog; one block, two blocks, three blocks and I arrived at my destination. New York had been my home for a little under three years, but sometimes it felt like three days. Thankfully, and very graciously, I had found a respite or two that reminded me of the people I left at home in the midwest.

New Yorkers are an interesting breed, and over time, I found myself assimilating with them more and more. I learned the hard way that it’s often difficult to hold on to who you are; most times it’s expected that you can’t or you won’t. It has, in fact, become a survival instinct to me. But that’s another story, and not the story I wanted to share.

I pulled myself up onto a stool that had certainly seen better days. If only sparkly vinyl could talk. The Moonbeam Cafe was one of those respites I told you about. It was a place that only a few knew about, but those who did were fiercely loyal. Sometimes the drunk college kids would stumble in at 3:00 a.m. after a night of vodka redbulls and draft beer, but most were often too intoxicated to remember in the morning where their bellies full of bacon and eggs came from. The decor was tacky at best, the food was equally greasy and satisfying at the same time, the coffee was perfection and you could undoubtedly rely on meeting some of the most interesting people each and every time. None of those were the reason I went to the Moonbeam Cafe. I went to the Moonbeam Cafe for Ruthie.

Photo credit: fab4chiky on Flickr

Ruthie easily had 30 years on me and more experience in her lifetime than I could ever imagine. Her face was full of lines – mostly from joy, somet from heartache. She had silver hair that was still soft and graceful, which she always had pinned into a loose bun. Her uniform was the same each day, a polyester creation of cream and turquoise. Despite the fact that she was at least 54, Ruthie still exuded the youthfulness of someone younger than even myself. Her beauty, to me, was in the mixture of her experience, wisdom and youthful spirit.

“I’m stuck,” I announced as she poured my first pot of steaming caffeine. “I’m wracking my brain and need to write the perfect story, but all I do is walk back and forth in my apartment with disco in my head.”

Ruthie giggled her gentle laugh and said “you never fail, sweetheart. You push yourself every single time but always manage to find something beautiful to share.” I appreciated her encouragement but was secretly disappointed that she didn’t share one of her famous Ruthie-isms…something I’d almost come to rely on in hopes that a word or two of hers would spark an entire idea. “What is it you want to write about?” she asked.

“That’s just it, I don’t even know. Usually I’m inspired by anything – even this coffee! But even right now, I look at it, and it’s coffee in a mug.” Over the next 45 minutes or so, I lamented further while Ruthie kept the coffee coming. I waved the white flag. I am 24 years old – who was I to have anything of significance to offer through my words? My eyes had beheld some sights in their time, my heart a couple cycles through the wringer, but none of it monumental enough to me. I slurped down the last of mug number three and paid for for it with the changed I had stuffed in my pocket. I stepped towards the door, but not before Ruthie came over to give me a motherly squeeze. I needed those. She winked and said “let me read it when you’re done, kiddo.” I always showed my drafts to Ruthie and she always felt the need to remind me to do so.

The rain had stopped by now. I skipped through a few puddles, walking the three blocks back to my second floor walk-up. The door flew open, I kicked off my sneakers and made my way back to the computer desk. I drummed my fingers on the keyboard with preciseness. I needed to share a story.

Trying to keep your eyes open is a challenge. Trying to keep your eyes open after being up for so long, after crying each day for a few days is even more tough.

Photo credit: GusF on Flickr

I have seven more posts to go and after a quick cat nap between posts (sorry, I had to) I’m in the home stretch. I’ve run out of letters in the alphabet and I have one guest post to prepare but after that… I may just start listing all of the furniture in my house or shooting a video of the run rising slowly and steadily although the view out the window faces North.

There’s one more shift that ends tonight since I decided to kind of create my own I’ll be the only one done at this time. Thank you to everyone for sticking with me thus far and to all of those who have participated in Blogathon by commenting, pledging, donating and blogging.