JUST A GAL FROM GLIDDEN: Life, parades, and the perils of squirrelly thoughts
By Kate Winquist
Well, my last column didn’t exactly age like a fine wine — more like that leftover pumpkin pie lingering in the back of the fridge a few days too long. My bold prediction that the Blue Jays would beat Seattle in six games started to crumble after they got their butts thoroughly kicked at Rogers Centre, falling behind 2–0 heading back to Seattle.
Still, I’m not ready to toss my crystal ball just yet. The Jays pulled off convincing wins in Games 3 and 4, but lost Game 5 thanks to some questionable management decisions. Here’s hoping they’re still swinging for that Game 7 triumph back in Toronto. Optimism, it seems, might just be my superpower.
Speaking of superheroes — huge shout-out to our local postal workers, who went above and beyond to get the papers out last week. Honestly, these folks deserve capes… and maybe their own parade.
With post offices back in action (for now), I was delighted to receive an anniversary card — yes, an actual card — complete with floral stamps and a handwritten note from a 94-year-old subscriber. Not her first, either. Thank you, Fran — you’re an absolute gem.
Thanksgiving weekend brought its usual mix of joy and logistical chaos. I took in the Harvest Festival parade in Rosetown for the first time, while my colleague Joan Janzen covered Kerrobert’s celebration. Both towns know how to put on a show, but Rosetown earns bonus points for its candy-bag system — sponsors donate, volunteers distribute, and kids stay safely on the sidewalks. A win for both sugar levels and safety.
Mother Nature — or maybe fate — added its own twist. Our Sunday turkey dinner was cancelled when my son and his girlfriend couldn’t make it. No matter — we improvised with salad and a small roast. The whole family is coming this weekend instead, including a girlfriend I’ve yet to meet. I hope she’s ready — or at least warned that “meeting the family” around here tends to come with a side of chaos.
Life’s been unusually busy. Between adding printing services and launching another newspaper, I’m juggling more than ever. At my age, I thought things might slow down. Apparently, my brain missed the memo. Some say it’s a curse to have too many creative ideas. I call it a blessing… most of the time.
Photography and writing keep me grounded — and occasionally wide awake. Inspiration often strikes around 2 a.m., and I debate whether to get up and write it down. By morning, the “brilliant” idea has usually vanished — like socks in a dryer.
A big shift this year came with my official ADHD diagnosis. I’d suspected it for ages, but saying it out loud to my doctor felt oddly freeing. Contrary to the stereotype, ADHD isn’t just kids bouncing off walls — plenty of adults are right here with me. When I shared the news on Facebook, the messages poured in: half were supportive, the other half basically said, “Well, duh.”
After nearly 35 years in newspapers and print, I’ve finally stopped overthinking and started simply being. The moral of the story? Love what you do. Be yourself. Embrace the chaos — because in the end, we all end up in the same place anyway.
If I can string together a bunch of squirrelly thoughts each week, keep the lights on, and maybe make you smile — that’s a win. And if I ever manage a full night’s sleep without reaching for a notepad, that’ll be a miracle. But I wouldn’t bet on it. Creativity, after all, doesn’t punch a time clock.