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 |    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. |
| May 30th Prompt: What was your favourite prompt? What was the most rewarding aspect of participating this month? Every day I look forward to a new challenging prompt to tweak my writing skills. I never know what I will encounter, or what subject matter I will be asked to consider. Some prove themselves to be thought-provoking while others present themselves as more fun. I appreciate all of them. All of the participants answer the same prompt, but no two of us do so in the same manner. We offer our own unique spins and flair, our own special memories, our own experiences, our own reasoned opinions, and our own configuration of words.I admire the creativity of my fellow bloggers and I enjoy reading their wonderful writing. Thank you! Did I have a favourite prompt this month? Why yes I did! In fact, I had a few favourites. I liked the conversation I initiated with a dog in order to satisfy the 'converse with an animal' prompt. There's always a first time for everything. I also enjoyed reminiscing about nicknames. Fond memories resurfaced. My third most favourite prompt was the one re writing about a first ____. As an open-ended idea, I could consider anything. I liked the option of a choice. I anticipate another challenging month of blogging in the near future. |
| May 29th Prompt: Add to the War Chest Challenge. Write three prompts for future rounds and then use one of them to finish the rest of your entry. So, it's that time again, huh? Hmmm... What three prompts could I contribute? Okay, here they are. 1. Do you like your name? Would you ever change it? 2. If you could be a mythical creature, which would you choose? 3. The one thing nobody tells you about ______. So, now I'll pick one to write about. Eeny, meeny, miney, mo choose a prompt and let it flow. Number 1 is the winner. Do you like your name? Would you ever change it? I don't not like my name. It is what it is. It's not a god-awful moniker. It's not frumpy, or gawdy, or over the top. I've never known another name. My name is my identity. When called, I answer to it. There are names I'm forever grateful did not impress either of my parents. I feel for women christened Fanny. Everyone carries around that particular body part, but to highlight it as a given name? I could have been a Bertha, or a Frieda, or a Philomena. No disrespect to those who face every day with these 'labels', but they're not for me. Certain names I associate with old ladies which is wrong because they were not always seniors. Martha, Evelyn, Edwina, and the like seem outdated to me. I dodged a bullet by not bearing my maternal grandmother's names, Gladys Gertrude. Now, If I had been her namesake, I'd shorten my moniker to G.G. I'd keep people guessing and perpetuate an aura of mystery. Hey, this could be my pen name. Of course, G.G. is not at all similar to Gigi which I think would make a cute dog's name. I have no illusions of grandeur that would prompt me to change, or alter my name. Oh, as a teenager I briefly entertained the idea of creative spelling for my name. I considered that an 'i' in place of a 'y' would give me an aura of individuality, a 'specialness.' I knew someone who had decided to spell Cindy as Cyndi and that swayed my temporary bid as Sandi. I came to my senses and accepted that 'y.' Perhaps I'm becoming a fuddy duddy, but have you noticed the strange, nonsensical, and outrageous spellings some choose for their children's names? They pervert a well-known name and sometimes I hazard a guess as to the pronunciation. Surely, not all of these parents are terrible spellers. I assume they seek a uniqueness for their offspring. My eldest grandgiggles had a friend with just such a distortion to her name. I first saw it in a class list and I pronounced it as " zow" as in "kapow" and "ee" that rhymes with "lee." Zowee... The girls were quick to correct me. "No, Nanna, it's Zoe." Okay? Certain names seem to attract several versions in their presentations. Take the moniker 'Michaela'. I've noticed 'Mikayla','Michaella', 'Mickeyla', whatever. My eldest's name is 'Carrie' and the other options are many. 'Kerry', 'Carry', 'Cari' or 'Karri'. When I spy a name tag with 'Carrie' I make a point of saying that it's spelled correctly, but what do I know? I have a preference, obviously. Anyway, I'll keep my name as it is. I have no need for an alias, or a fresh start. A few of the relatives may display memory issues in the near future, so why mess with them now. I appreciate that they remember me. |
| PROMPT May 28th What would you do if you knew you could not fail? Would the sky be the limit? Could I achieve anything? Need I not worry about risking life and limb in an extreme physical sport? Would I ever need to train to prepare myself for acts of derring-do? Would I exert myself? Could I forgo lifting a finger? Need I ever lose sleep , or fret about an outcome? Why would I bother to learn, practise , or update any skills? I do not wish to be guaranteed success. If I never fail, where is my motivation to improve? If everything I attempt is golden, would I appreciate it? Would I not become complacent? To fail is to acknowledge an effort. To fail is to learn and grow. To fail is to seek improvement, modifications, and adjustments. Nothing worthwhile is easy. I want my accomplishments to be the result of my efforts. To never fail is inconceivable. |
| PROMPT May 27th Write about your first _______. (You fill in the blank. Ex: first car, first job, first crush, first week at college, etc) Ah, firsts! They are incomparable. They are indelible. They may never be duplicated. I shall write about the kid that officially made me an aunt for the first time, Jimmy. He originated with the first of my siblings to become a parent, my sister Laurie. She decided he'd be a James Milo and right from the start I questioned the 'Milo.' I quizzed her as to its origin and she assured me it had always been a family name on the father's side. Milo? Jim's paternal stock were born and bred for countless generations in a rural landlocked area in northern Ontario. Few had ever ventured further than their home province with their run-of-the-mill average names. Milo? Had a foreign sailor voyaged about their farmland sweeping the star struck womenfolk off their feet and leaving unrequited swooning in his wake? But James Milo he became. Ah, Jimmy kept his mother on her toes. He believed his father who insisted that ants were 'clean bugs' and he collected them along with worms, spiders, and anything that caught his eye. Laurie was what her in-laws referred to as a 'city girl' and she never liked insects even if they were outside. As a child she would scream, "Bee" at anything that whirred by her. Jimmy also picked up a few choice cuss words from his father and he knew how to press his mother's buttons. He thought he knew just how far to push her, but he made a calculated mistake. At one of his birthday parties, Jimmy ran around shouting out his favourite swear word de jour enjoying the shock factor. Several times, Laurie cautioned him and then down right threatened him, but he ignored her. He thought he'd heard it all until my sister called his bluff. Laughing with his friends, Jimmy failed to notice his mom exit the house and march towards him. I suppose her shadow alerted him and he turned to see a green bar of soap floating before him. His first instinct was to run, but Laurie followed no matter where he zigged, or zagged. Cornering the wide-eyed boy, Laurie thrust that bar of Irish Spring in between his teeth. In front of his party guests Jimmy stood for all to see. He attempted to wiggle out of her grasp, but he had met his match. Only a scant minute passed, but to that boy with the tearing eyes it must have seemed like an eternity. When his parent asked if he'd learned his lesson, Jimmy nodded. With the soap removed, Jim gagged, retched and spat. He carried on for far longer a period than that torturous minute. He refused her offer of a drink. One day, my sibling noticed dark, purplish smudges under each of her son's eyes. He replied no to all the standard queries. He had not been punched. He had not fallen. No one had poked him. The dog had not jumped up on him. Jimmy claimed the 'bruises' did not hurt, so his mom shrugged them off. When those same marks took on a greenish-yellow hue, Laurie ferried her unconcerned child to a doctor's appointment. To the doctor's question re had he put anything up into his nose, Jim shook his head no. After a visit to the hospital's x-ray department and a series of nasal shots, the suspicious doctor discovered several pebbles wedged tight inside each nasal/ sinus cavity. Again, Jimmy underwent questioning. Finally, he admitted to inserting the gravel into his nose, but he claimed he'd forgotten about it. He had no idea when he'd done this and could not answer why either. At one time, Jimmy had an active imagination that caused me to laugh whenever I spoke with him. For a few years, he had an imaginary friend that went everywhere he did. For the life of me I cannot recall that invisible pal's name. Could it have been Doug? Of course, Doug became the excuse why Jim would refuse to eat certain foods. Doug didn't like it. Doug didn't have to take a bath every night. Doug's mother did not tell him what to do. For some reason, Doug was older than Jim, and in fact, Jim represented him as being an adult. If someone, anyone purchased a new snowmobile, or a vehicle, or new tools Doug's were bigger, better, and faster. When Jim's Uncle Rick got married, so did Doug. If Dad chopped down three trees, Doug cut down ten. That Doug was very competitive. Jim insists that he does not remember Doug and acts as if we invented him. I do not recall Doug saying goodbye. One fond memory of Jim involves a couple of empty toilet paper rolls. He toted this makeshift 'chain saw' everywhere pretending to cut things up and making the requisite saw noise. There were probably strangers who stared and wondered about a little boy playing with t.p. rolls. He never took notice of those unbelievers and why should he? Thanks Jimmy for permitting me to be your aunt. As my first nephew you provided so much fun. |
| May 26th Prompt: Make a list of your top 5 short term goals and a separate list of your top 5 long term goals. What steps will you take to achieve them? Am I makin' a list and checkin' it twice? I'm not much of a long range planner, or a list creator. This prompt is a puzzler. I've never owned, or kept a day planner . Do I have goals? Well, here are my short term goals as I see them at this moment. 1. Drag my hubby kicking and screaming if need be to a dental surgeon for some much needed 'work'. The sooner this happens the better. 2. Enjoy a return trip / visit to British Columbia. There's so much more for me to explore in this gorgeous province. 3. Finally travel to Newfoundland. Two years ago, I'd anticipated this trip, but a knee replacement sabotaged that idea. 3. Spend more time with grandgiggle number three before she begins school. I know she's two-years old now, but time passes far too quickly. Once she becomes a student her time will be limited. 4. Splurge and dine in a restaurant again. Stupid Covid has scuttled similar plans for over a year now. 5. Walk into a movie theatre to satisfy a spontaneous urge to view a movie, any movie. Again, Covid has denied me and many others this privilege. Okay, let's see what my long term goals are... 1. Muster enough gumption and grit to undergo a second knee replacement. My right knee isn't going to limp along for much longer. When this happens, I shall possess a matching pair. 2. Live long enough and hopefully beyond to attend my youngest grandgiggle's university graduation. I figure that will be approximately twenty years in the future. A corollary goal is to encourage, not push, her to accomplish this. 3. Perhaps write enough and organize enough to publish a book. If this does not happen, I will not be overly disappointed. At least I will have created and attempted to create more stories. The journey will be my reward. 4. Retire. Hubby and I will get there some day. Imagine the extra time on our hands to fritter away, or whatever. 5. Purchase a new RV, or motorhome and live in it as my hubby and I travel at whim. If we wish to avoid snow and freezing temperatures, we will. |
| May 25th Prompt: Write about the most exciting, odd, or valuable thing you've found on the ground or abandoned on the side of the road. Invent a story about where the object came from and who owned it before you found it. "Dang Darren. What's that wobblin' up there on top of your bald head?" "Oh this? Ya know that ditch on over by Wilson's Woods? I found this discarded brain just alyin' there. I picked it up, gave it a spit and polish, and plunked it atop ma melon." "A brain? Cool beans! Whatcha gonna do with it? Do ya think it's worth somethin'?" "I dunno, it's the first brain I ever seen. It looks hardly used. Who woulda tossed out a perfectly good brain? Remember the two batteries we threw in your truck? Mebbe I can have extra spark." "Oooo,it's kinda squishy. Did ya feel that poke? Are ya mind meldin' like them Star Trek freaks?" "Noooo, I felt nothin'. Wait, wait, that aint right." "Darnit Darren, you're rubbin' up agin that tree pretty dang hard. Your back man, it's scratched up real good. Now whatcha doin'? Where'd ya learn to skedaddle up a trunk like that? I dunno, man. I wouldn't swat at that bee hive if'n I was you. Them bees sound pissed." "Eeeyaaa!! Whooee, now that's a thumpin'. Who said somethin' about bein' out on a limb? I aint never had a hunkerin' fer honey before. Hey, ouch!" "Drop an' roll Darren! No, don't flap. Them bees are buzzin' mad. Roll buddy, roll. That's it, git in that water. Bees can't swim, right?" |
| May 24th Prompt: Write about a movie or t.v. show you watched recently that blew you away. What lessons can you learn from the show and incorporate into your own writing? Hmmm... I've not been viewing much lately. When I do watch something I do not do so to critique the writing, the presentation, the character arcs, the storyline, or whatever. Often, I am just killing time and craving a bit of entertainment. I don't consider the how. I do remember an Australian movie that I would never have chosen to view based upon its title. It had an innocuous title, The Dressmaker. Never would I watch anything I assumed would, or could be about a seamstress, or a tailor. Sewing doesn't pique my curiosity. Meh, someone is making a dress, or two? So, they cut material and join it together with thread? Netflix teased me with a hint of a synopsis and a brief action clip. I took the plunge. Am I happy that I did this? In a word, yes. This gem of a movie is about far more than a person who creates clothing. The script delves into labels and misconceptions that dog a person's life. Redemption is showcased as a meal best served cold. Is vengeance possible ? Is it attainable in a life well-lived? The dressmaker of the movie returns as an adult to her hometown and she brings her considerable skill and flair. She carries a haunting repressed memory that the townspeople have not forgiven. As a child she was blamed for an unfortunate death. Despite her accomplishments she cannot escape the crushing condemnation that mars her return. I shall not mention more 'cause that would reveal the entire plot and the dramatic ending. I suppose it's the brilliant characterizations that remain vivid. Every person in this tale has their own back story and a tale that describes their relationship with each other. In other words, everyone is flawed. No one has the right to judge the dressmaker, but they do so anyway. Their judgements unite them as they shun the young woman who has dared to show her face again. They soon make it clear that they cannot forget the child she was, or the lies that they have perpetuated. All the players are lifelike and far from flat. They are uncompromisingly complex. What did I learn? Characters in a story are so much more than their physical descriptors. Their psychological profiles drive their actions and determine the plot. |
| May 23rd Prompt: Write abour nicknames. What nicknames do you have for people in your life? What nicknames do others use to refer to you? Do any of these names have an interesting story for how they came to be? Ah, nicknames. I'm the eldest of four. My brother is closest to me in age and he loved to refer to me as "Ug" short for Ugly. With three sisters perhaps he needed to label us. Who knows. He and I bestowed a nickname upon our youngest sister. Christened with a name our Nanny considered controversial, Sherry didn't stand a chance. I still laugh at Nan's response. "No granddaughter of mine is going to be named after a liquor." Not that we agreed, or cared. We decided Sherry should be 'Ralph'. Our reasoning remains a little fuzzy. In our defence, she did sorta resemble a boy with her short blonde hair and had she only been another boy we would've been a family with two of each. I believe we considered Ralph to be the worst boy's name, one not assigned to anyone we knew. We liked the outrageousness of a female sibling named Ralph. Yes, we realized that 'ralph' is slang for vomit, but that didn't figure in our choice. Once we used it, it stuck. One day Ralph met a young man dubbed Nobby by his siblings. He in turn introduced his sisters as Tweet and Head. Our baby sister had been accepted by people who appreciated nicknames. The official wedding licence lists their names as Sherry and Terry. Weird, they had rhyming monikers. Did I mention my father's name is Jerry? This lovely couple created a daughter whom they nicknamed "Bumpies.' As an infant she never did crawl. She bumped along on her butt. Frequently, she struck her little head and erupted in bumps as evidence. Other than with my 'Ralph', I've never been keen on nicknames. Sure,I'll admit I played around with my kids names. My eldest is Carrie. I assumed I'd chosen her named because one, I liked it, and, two, it had been my great-grandmother's name. As she progressed to the walking and talking stage, I wondered if I had been intuitively aware of her non-stop energy. I joked she 'carried on' and later I referenced the British Carry-On comedies.Her brother named her 'Rie Rie.' All the relatives adopted this. My mother-in-law insisted upon calling my son 'Chrissy' and I hated this. It sounded girly to me and he had the perfect name already, Christopher. Although he wanted his big sis to be 'Rie Rie', at the age of twenty-one months he pronounced his newborn sister's name correctly as Danielle. When they were in elementary school, I taught my three a bit of French. Danielle loved being Mademoiselle Danielle Rachel(le) Mozzarella. During her teenage years, Mademoiselle knew that her father's shop employee's had a nickname they'd secretly given her. She had a habit of speaking her mind and appearing to be assertive. The guys would witness her striding into the garage and demanding things. She expected her father to address her needs as soon as possible. Because of this she became known as 'Mimi', or more like 'Me Me.' Mimi and Rie Rie tease their only brother by calling him 'Chris Crash.' He does have a reputation as an accident magnet and currently is winning in the most-ambulance- rides and most stitches / fractures categories. The word crash is familiar. Those shop employees I mentioned thought it funny to refer to me as 'crash test dummy.' While they toiled in a vehicle restoration business they did not get to know me because I brought them what I dubbed the 'make work projects.' In other words, no, I did not crash my car...often. I too weathered more than my fair share of accidents in which I experienced falls. They suggested I seek employment as a crash test dummy and at least get paid for my incidents. From time to time, I meet a child who makes the connection between my name and a common substance they recognize. More than once I've heard, "Do you know your name could be Sandy Beach?" A few have laughed and laughed as they tell me the following. "What do you call a lion in the desert? Sandy Claws!" Now my hubby, Paul, remembers attempts by kids to bestow a nickname upon him and his unenthusiastic response. He did not find it funny to be called 'Pollywog.' His reaction involved a scuffle, or what some may say is fisticuffs. As a competitive figure skater he was known as 'Bugsy.' This derived from the first car he owned, a VW Bug. His more enduring nickname is 'Bondo' a compound used to patch vehicle bodies. For many years, he worked in the automotive trade. It could just as well have been 'Dusty', or 'Primer', or 'Patch.' I think a fun nickname would've been 'Weld-o' somewhat like Waldo." Where's Weld-o? Oh, look, he's the one sparking and smoking over there behind the Cadillac." The numerous burn holes in his clothing attested to his welding proclivities. |
| May 22nd Prompt: Write about the biggest challenge you have faced and how you overcame it. Have I ever experienced adversity? Yes. Has it proved to be all-consuming and insurmountable? No. Challenges come and go. Some intersect and some seem to wait for their turn to be front and centre. None of them hang around forever. Each one has monopolized my time, my attention, my effort. I've learned the "this too shall pass" philosophy. Have I developed a thick skin, callouses, or erected some kind of shield? I don't believe I have. I cannot conjure a 'biggest challenge' to write about. So far in my existence I've not experienced a problem that caused me to curl up and admit defeat. Day by day I place one foot in front of the other and carry on. Ack, this sounds bleak. I am blessed to have many reasons to continue living. Family and friends, hobbies and curiosity keep me interested. Engaging in relationships can be an intriguing challenge, but the investment pays off in spades. There's always one more engrossing book to read, one more scrumptious cookie to eat, one more perfect cup of tea to sip, one more heartfelt hug to dispense, one more chin wag to enjoy, one more shimmering sunset to marvel at, one more sparkling snowfall to enthrall, and one more tear-inducing stomach-cramping , gasping laugh to share. |
| May 21st Prompt: Write an open letter to a person or group of people you strongly disagree with and explain why. Use reason not emotion. Dear Creator and Overseer of Facebook, First let me begin by stating that I am a Facebooker. That means I use your app and enjoy sharing with my friends and family. I anticipate viewing the myriad of photos that are posted begging comment. I discover random rants and varying levels of conversation that intrigue, entertain and baffle me. Now I know what a meme is. Crazy, huh? The Facebook content never fails to amuse me. BUT,,, yes, I have a but, a dislike, a difference of opinion. Why are there advertisements insinuating themselves into my newsfeed? I do not consider ads to be news. I do not particularly like ads either. They are annoying enough to be sprinkled willy-nilly amongst any of my online forays and I do my best to ignore, if not outright shun them, but why on earth did you consider them important enough to insert them amongst my stream of photos and updates? Yes, ads have always 'framed' the Facebook page and they floated in my peripheral vision. I never understood their necessity. I ask again, why are they now infiltrating my newsfeed and intruding upon the user posts? I never agreed to this. I was never consulted. They are not user driven. The ads are not proposed , or shared by my fellow Facebookers. Where do you get off 'suggesting' ads for me? This is presumptuous. I do not want any ads littering my newsfeed. Over and over I attempt to discard these unwanted ads by requesting you 'hide' them. When I do this I am asked why? Do people actually enjoy these ads? I opt to answer that the ads are 'irrelevant.'Thay's what they are, irrelevant. And another thing, have you been spying upon me? Do you follow every thing I do? How else did you determine the ads that you presumed I would find interesting, or irresistible? My mind is boggled. Where did I ever indicate that I was wishing to purchase a new vehicle and also so many makes amd models? Why throw international travel options my way? I am not a drinker, yet you assume I have an overpowering thirst for beer and alcohol. What I am getting at is you do not know me at all. Stop the onslaught of ads! Irked and Ignored |
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