%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| April 14th Prompt by Carol St. Ann (881) 4/14 Staying at Home: Storytime Which items in your home have a story of how they came to be there. Carol St. Ann Everything in my home has a story. Some are adoption tales, some are creation stories, some were bestowed as gifts, and some just fell into our laps. Imagine if they could all speak, in various pitched voices, and all at once. After my Mom-in-law's death, I inherited her buffet and hutch, a large piece of pine furniture. It happened to be one of the first bits she purchased when she emigrated to Canada from England. In her home, it had pride of ownership. She loved to entertain and this hutch displayed her collection of china brought out for guests. At one time, it matched with a large table and a set of eight chairs. These items were whisked away, purloined, stolen from a moving truck one afternoon during a relocation. Now, this aged hutch is in need of some reconditioning. The doors are booby-trapped to separate from their frames and smash the innocent feet of those not careful to stand back when attempting to open them. With a little finesse and finagling, the doors can be pushed back into their safer closed position. I've often considered hiring a cabinet maker, or a carpenter to repair this heirloom, but I am familiar with its charming quirks. My eldest is a creative genius . She creates many things, clothing, quilts, stuffed toys, upholstery, draperies. Her handiwork is evident everywhere in my home. When she first expressed an interest in sewing as a child, I would browse rummage sales and purchase the fur linings of coats for her. With the sewing machine that once belonged to her paternal grandmother, Carrie fashioned furry bears and rabbits. Most of them earned her a bit of money and a reputation as a seamstress. As her skill improved, Carrie branched out into creating jackets and quilts. I enjoy a vast outerwear wardrobe thanks to her. During our long ago honeymoon, my hubby and I purchased street art from different painters hawking their wares in Montreal and Quebec City. We had them professionally matted and framed. They have accompanied us on each of our relocations and they hang in our home today. One we especially love is a rendering in shades of grey of a pair of owls. Perhaps it represents the two of us. It does conjure up memories of being eager to start a life together and agreeing to part with what little funds we had to ensure our home would reflect our love of art. Now, if I had unlimited time and an inclination to do so, I would write of all the photos that occupy wall space in my home. They each have a story. |
| 5 DAY Andre the Blog Monkey's April Fools Mystery Writing Challenge Blog Prompt for Day 5 Yesterday is history and tomorrow is a mystery. Think about your future, short-term then long-term, is it all a mystery or fairly predictable, share your findings in today's blog entry. Thank you for playing along in this 5 Day Challenge. I enjoyed it so much I'm adding a BONUS PROMPT for Day 5.1 (April 15th) I was going to release the prompt in this post, but then thought, No! I'll leave it a mystery. Well, I fully anticipate having and enjoying a short-term future. I'm capable of committing to tomorrow, next week, a couple of months from now and possibly next year. Yep, I believe that time frame to be fairly predictable with the same old same old. I plan to be plodding along with my everyday pursuits like blogging here at WDC. There are more mystery prompts to meet and dissect. The future weather is both predictable and mysterious. The seasons come and go with my expectations based upon years of observations. Sure, the snow will eventually disappear, but the when is never a given. It can return if it chooses before relinquishing its grip. The un-winter, er, summer, will not necessarily be all sunshine and heat. One sure harbinger announces Spring. Of course, the ravenous blood-thirsty blackflies and their almost as equally annoying co-biters, the mosquitos, will swarm me as they have for, cough, cough, decades. I suppose I could admit they are predictable. As soon as the last of the snow melts, they immediately invade 'my' locale. And we naïve, sun-starved citizens tempt them with our pasty-white, parka-shucked skin. There's no mystery there, or is there? Why do they even exist? Why does this 'plague' thrive only to torment me? Some Canadians claim that they are impervious to this blood-sucking scourge. Really? If so, why? Just thinking of these ornery buggers makes my skin crawl. Perhaps I will live long enough to see them eradicated , or a repellent invented that does just that, repel. This is my living, breathing, scratching local mystery. I hope to experience a long-term future. The variables and probabilities may disagree, but I'm optimistic. Living to become an octogenarian is not a sure thing. My physical health could be an unravelling mystery, revealed little tenuous threads separating, one by one. The odds are favourable that I will be granted a second knee replacement. A matching set would improve my mobility. I'm somewhat confident that I shall retain all my marbles and remember what to do with them. Senility, the real deal, doesn't haunt my families. I'm not claiming though that people haven't pronounced us crazy. I'd also bet that I'll be 'blessed' by at least a few more accidents. The timing, the location, and the severity of those mishaps is the surprise. They never issue a warning. They just strike and let the chips, meaning me, fall where they may. Yep, most of my incidents, a lifetime precedent of them, can be attributed to falls. Not all were explicable. I believe a few were "what the __ _" moments initiated by a malevolent spirit. I recall a sensation of being pushed or tripped, but the naysayers claim I trip over air. Am I the sole 'victim' to hear strains of 'The Twilight Zone' music? So, to recap. No, not everything about my future is predictable. Do I want it to be? No! This gal loves some mystery. P.S.I am exhausted. I did not foresee the events of last evening and early this morning. Wind storms have blown through before. This wind battered the building I live in and howled for hours. The aluminum siding could not resist and throughout the long hours it relinquished its hold. Oh, it protested with creaks and shrieks. All night, I heard clangs, thumps, screeches and whumps. In the aftermath, a sunny, cool morning, shards of siding lay scattered on the ground. Why now? Why this building , but not the others nearby? Why can't I ignore the noise and sleep? |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
