%%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 17th Prompt by Carol St. Ann (882) 4/17 Staying at Home: Merit Mail Pick one and write a letter (or note) to your: mail carrier, delivery person, local first line (emt, fire, police, hospital staff) Dear Transport Driver, Too many drivers of personal vehicles have no idea of the sacrifices you make, or the thousands of miles, (kilometres), you traverse safely in a year. It takes considerable skill, endurance, and patience to do what you do, and I salute you. Thank you for keeping your big rig between the lines. You sir / madam are a professional. No matter the weather or road conditions, you continue to drive. You sacrifice time with your own loved ones to supply goods to my family and I thank you. You spend not only hours , but days, weeks and sometimes months away from the comforts of your own home. You bunk down, alone, in a semi. You often eat on the run, or stop briefly at a truck stop to dine. How many home-cooked meals do you miss? How many hours do you spend alone while you're working? The road warrior moniker seems appropriate. You provide a vital link between suppliers and consumers. You are indispensable. Thanks for your professionalism, it is noted and appreciated. Keep on truckin'! |
| 4/15 Staying at Home: Wall Talk These walls are made for talkin’! The popcorn’s poppin’ and we’re all rubbing our hands together in anticipation of what we’re about to read. We’re ready for the whole story, no matter how funny! Are ya ready, walls? Start talkin! Carol St. Ann, Slacker We walls are more than ready to talk. We've been waiting for the invitation, so to speak. We've been lurking and watching. Nothing slips by us . You've heard that expression, the walls have ears. We're sorta sentinels witnessing all there is to espy. We do more than hold up the roof and provide shelter. Yes, we are privy to every angle. Nothing escapes our notice. We notice that the dust is accumulating without check. The increased daylight highlights the fuzziness of the furniture and dust motes twirl and frolic in the sunbeams. We've never before seen such large dust bunnies burrowing under the couch. If we could, we'd sweep, but alas, we can only support brooms in an upright position. We wonder if the occupant could be 'dust blind'? The smells emanating from our enclosure tantalize. More muffins, cakes, and cookies have materialized in the past two months than we've salivated over in ten years. If only we could taste cinnamon and chocolate. The occupant seems to savour them. We're familiar with the freight trains that rumble by and shake us to our core, but the rock music reverberating and 'crescendoing' is another type of rattle. The screeching from the occupant apparently singing along sends shivers up our drywall. Don't ask me to describe the gyrating, it's a sight we'd like to forget and never mention again. Most of the time our occupant is bathed in an eery glow from her computer screen. In the darkness, it illuminates her hunched over and pecking away at a keyboard. She takes no notice of us. We've got her back, but does she care? She forces us to hold and display an inordinate number of framed photos. When is enough enough? We feel suffocated by their presence. We believe we could use a new coat of paint, but the truth is we no longer know what colour we once were. The occupant rarely goes out anymore. Why? What keeps her here? |
| 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? |
| April 13th Prompt by Carol St. Ann (881) 4/13 Staying at Home: Enough already! Do you actually use all the rooms in your house all the time? For example, I have a formal living room I never use. Why do you think we build houses with unnecessary rooms? What if you were to re-purpose that room (or space)? Share your idea. Carol St. Ann My current abode is a two bedroom apartment set nineteen steps above the street. Yes, I live in all the rooms. In the past, I owned houses, but they never had unused space. I never lived in a space too big to clean. I do know people with formal dining rooms that are rarely if ever used. Some people have two kitchens in their homes, too. I always wished I had a large attic, but alas, that never happened. If I ever live in a house in the future, I'd fancy a large patio, or deck opening up off the open concept kitchen and living room. That flow of space would be awesome! Perhaps I could include a swimming pool in a glass-walled room. But wait, I live in Canada, but dream in Florida, or Nevada, or California. I covet the warm-fair-all-year-weather of other countries. Unless I move, none of this will happen. I'd be content with the modification I posted yesterday, a new den / library. |
| Hundreds of these large stone spheres are scattered across the Costa Rican jungle and are thought to have been constructed by prehistoric humans. For years, they have baffled scientists and archaeologists as to why they are there and how they were built. The spheres range up to 2.4 meters (8 ft) in diameter and are almost perfectly round. 5 DAY Andre the Blog Monkey's April Fools Mystery Writing Challenge Blog Prompt for Day 4 - Andre the Blog Monkey helped me out with today's prompt. Andre sometimes drinks vodka to a point where he talks of stone ball drinking parties in the jungles of Costa Rica. I looked it up and it's a legit thing. I asked Andre about the stone balls but he doesn't remember much about anything. Andre will name a drink in the bar after the blogger who writes the best explanation of ... The Mystery of the Stone Balls of Costa Rica So, just to be clear, we're delving into the mystery of big balls, right? Costa Rica has balls of unknown origin littering their jungles. Researchers, I'm certain, have determined these objects are not wayward beach balls, or volleyballs, or malformed shuttlecocks. What are they? They must have a purpose. Doesn't everything have a purpose? Someone at some time, created these balls for their own amusement. Cats, felines spring to mind. They do what they want, where they want and with whatever they want. They find the strangest things amusing. They can be spontaneous and their motto must be "repercussions / consequences be damned." I am a cat and I will do this right now because I wish to and I am capable. I do not feel compelled to explain myself to anyone. What is the single most gross thing a feline does? This action is accompanied by the most horrendous sound. Yes, I write of the dreaded, steaming, liquified blob known as a hairball. It's delivery system involves hacking, yacking, retching, and gacking. I suggest to you that these balls are simply petrified hairballs that were once batted around and rolled in layers of silt and mud. With each sediment layer, the balls grew. As with all play things, the cats grew tired of these balls and they abandoned them for better pursuits. No? Not buying into that theory? How about considering these balls as beads from a giant necklace? The string holding them together snapped and spilled a trail of beads bouncing away into the jungle. Perhaps these stone balls are actually rather large pellets for an immense BB gun. Of course, I realize only an individual of a certain enhanced stature could tote this weapon. Did Paul Bunyan ever venture to Costa Rica? I know I've mentioned him before, but just how large is Big Foot? Okay, okay, I have one more theory and I believe it's as plausible as any out there, circulating and percolating. Are you familiar with the Italian lawn bowling game, bocce? Yes, I theorize that these stone balls are the bocce balls of a giant race of beings who once vacationed in the tropical jungles of Costa Rica. It's a game played on any outdoor surface, so why not on the lush ground of this paradise? This would explain the seemingly random placement of the balls. They appear to be scattered and bocce are thrown to land with a thud and a roll. Due to their substantial girth and weight these balls are not easily transported. This must have been the site of past bocce tournaments. We know a bowling alley sounds like thunder imagine this venue's noise levels. I'm left scratching my head. Why do these balls exist and why in Costa Rica? I'm also puzzled re the drinking parties held there. Unless I'm missing something, how do the drinkers balance their various beverages of choice on an almost round ball? They are not suited as tables, right? And another thing, should tipsy imbibers be traipsing about a jungle? Don't they know about the tripping hazards on a jungle floor? |
| Sunday, April 12 th Prompt by Carol St. Ann (881) 4/12 Staying at Home: Daydreaming The good the bad and the ugly things about your house have been getting on your last nerve. Today fate has smiled on you. You’re the recipient of a 1 or 2 room renovation on your favorite Home-Reno show. It will be at no cost to you and will (of course) be completed in an hour. Which show would it be? Which room (but not more than 2 ) would you redo? Smile for the cameras, and describe the experience. Smile? You do realize that I've been self-isolated for several weeks now, don't you? My hair has declared a mutiny. In protest, it seems to be tripling its length. Without sunshine or much fresh air, my hair is a growing concern. I do not have the gardening shears , or the expertise to whack trim it back. What's that lovely descriptive? My coiffure looks like a rat's nest. Okay, I could wear a hat, but hats and I agree to disagree. So, there will be no cost for this miracle? I cannot argue with this. And all of this will be completed in an hour? Really? As long as I'm not the one cleaning up the mess afterwards, I'm on board. Initially and compulsively, I thought I'd like a new and improved kitchen. For years, I've dreamed of wall-mounted ovens, a dishwasher, oodles of cupboards and deep drawers, miles of countertops, gigantic appliances... you know, "the dream kitchen." Sigh. I live alone most of the time now and what would I do with all this grand space? Cooking for one doesn't require a football field-sized area. I've got it! Could I have a library/den? My books and collectibles, you know knick-knacks, photos, memorabilia, greenery/plants/indoor grow op. ...my stuff needs a more generous space. Everything is rubbing shoulders, vying for breathing room. Perhaps I could indulge in some new(er) furniture, too. I'd like a haven, a tranquil nook, a retreat of sorts. Choosing the bestower of my makeover is not an easy task. A plethora of renovators flood the market. While their respective television programs are not my usual fare, I did binge-watch a few during my knee replacement recuperation. I believe in supporting Canadian enterprise, so I choose Bryan and Sarah Baeumler to work their makeover magic. They reside near Toronto and I reside about a three to four hour drive from there. Bryan provides the muscle, the physical carpentry and such. His wife is the style guru. They seem to share my vision, or at least understand it. They can not help but notice the crowded conditions my books live in. The two of them design and create floor to ceiling book cases of oak that stretch over an archway. They incorporate cubbies and nooks. They gift me with a window seat cushioned with floral-printed pillows. The real surprise is a soaker hot tub! How could they possibly know that is a dream of mine? How did Bryan install the plumbing? And in an hour? They are miracle workers, true geniuses, visionaries! How would I describe this experience? Both my home and I felt pampered and loved. We feel as if we were treated to a luxury spa "the deluxe works package." We glow. We enjoyed the camaraderie, the professionalism, the undeniable results. Thank you Bryan and Sarah! Smile? Oh, I'm grinning. And I did not have to sweep, vacuum, dust, rearrange, lift anything. I suppose I was so bedazzled, but I do not recall seeing the camera people. Where were they? They are like ninjas, silent and hidden. I expected blinding flood lights and cables to trip over. This is the type of renovation I appreciate. No broken finger nails, stubbed toes, splinters, whacked thumbs, bruises, or abrasions of any kind. |
| Blog Prompt for Day 3 - In today's mystery blog challenge you'll write a detailed description of a MURDER scene. Da - Da - Daaaa You'll have a victim and a cast of suspects, including possible murder weapons, motive, etc. End your entry with this challenge to your readers. "It's up to you to solve this murder in a comment on my entry." Merit Badges will be awarded to the best MURDER scene and the best solution to the mystery. Nobody leave the building! Detective Salmon strode into a dim corridor eerily silent and free of crowds. A few weeks ago, he'd visited this same location with his family and they'd been buffeted along by a teeming throng humming with excitement. Thanks to Covid-19 this tourist attraction had been shuttered to the public. He shook his head. He thought it was a shame, but Ripley's Aquarium would be bustling soon enough. Not knowing what to expect he followed the seemingly endless walls of glass illuminated from within and showcasing millions of fish darting and floating in the clear water. This constant motion created rippling shadows reflected on the rubber flooring. As with most sudden death scenes, he knew when he'd found the spot. He suppressed a gasp and the involuntary shiver squeezing his spine. Nothing could prepare him for this. A man's bloated body bumped against the side of the immense tank nudged by rhythmic waves. Dressed in a grey uniform and red sneakers, the D.B. or Dead Body stared through sightless bulging eyes. He appeared to be swathed in a net that wound around his lower jaw and neck. The tips of his fingers were absent and his hands bloodied. Salmon spied several angry open wounds on the legs and arms still oozing red streams that formed a halo around the corpse. Peaking from the torn material were purplish welts. Something glimmered on the coral covered floor and the detective spied a pointed spear. It looked out of place amongst the vibrant reds, pinks, blues, and yellows. Tearing his gaze from the surreal scene, Salmon introduced himself to the young policeman standing guard. He appreciated that he'd not been inundated as soon as he'd arrived. He liked to soak up a crime scene undisturbed. "Hello Detective Salmon. I'm Officer Law, Marshall Law. I see you pursing your lips and tilting your head. That really is my name. Mom had a strange sense of humour." "What can you tell me about the deceased, Officer? Do we have an i.d.?" "Yes sir. This is Speckle Trout, a custodian here. According to the manager, who discovered the body this morning, Trout came by his nickname because he dabbled with stock speculation. He planned to make a killing from his portfolio." "What's the net worth?" "I dunno, maybe twenty dollars." "Huh? No, his net worth? Did someone get greedy? Where would a janitor get funds for investing? Could he have borrowed from a loan shark?" A shadow passed over their heads and both men looked up to see a sleek shark shimmy through the glass saltwater-filled arch joining two immense fish tanks. It lead a parade of rainbow-coloured fish, big and small. A giant black stingray loomed nearby. Glancing back to the body, the men noticed bobbing jellyfish, translucent and ribbon-legged. "Do you think the sea life killed him? Did he drown, or did a shark attack him? I believe I read somewhere that jellyfish sting. Could that be lethal? And what about that huge stingray? Didn't someone famous die from a bite?" "Sir, I believe that was Steve Irwin. " "Right, right so it was. Do we have any suspects?" "Well sir, I never considered the possibility of a loan shark, but yes I have a list of suspects. The manager is also the father of Trout's ex-girlfriend. They recently broke up and according to Dad, it was all Trout's doing. He explained away his leaving by saying there were more fish in the sea and he showed his ex a screenshot of his application to an online dating service, Plenty of Fish. So, she could be angry and seeking revenge. Maybe she and her father tag teamed this murder. The other custodian described Trout as a cold fish, acting all hoity-toity and stuff. He could've had enough. I think that's the list, sir." "Well Officer Law all we have is speculation at the moment. There appears to be four suspects and multiple murder weapons. There's not much more we can do here. We'll have more answers after the coroner fishes him out." It's up to you to solve this murder in a comment on my entry. |
| Day 2 Entries - 5 Day Mystery Challenge by Brother Nature (110) Bermuda Triangle Over the last 500 years, ships and airplanes have gone missing inside a triangular section of the North Atlantic Ocean called the Bermuda (or Devil's) Triangle. This mysterious area is bounded by the British Overseas Territory of Bermuda; Miami, Florida, U.S.; and the American territory of Puerto Rico. The earliest article to reference a disappearance was in The Miami Herald in 1950. However, the "Bermuda Triangle" itself was coined by Vincent Gaddis in a 1964 article. Since then, scientists and amateurs have floated various theories - from sea monsters to unidentified flying objects (UFOs) - but nobody has been successful in decoding the mystery. 5 DAY Andre the Blog Monkey's April Fools Mystery Writing Challenge Blog Prompt for Day 2 - I for one have always been interested in the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle. I like to ponder possible explanations for what it is. Think about it for a few moments, then share your possible (or improbable) explanation. If there is another mystery you'd rather share your thoughts on, that's okay too. Hmmm, when I hear the name Bermuda I think of shorts, sunshine and beaches. Oh, also the Beach Boys song immediately begins blaring on a loop in my brain. I suppose the moniker Bermuda Triangle is much easier to pronounce and spell that icosahedron or tetrahedron. But yes, what does happen to ships and airplanes in that geographical area? What fate befalls them? Is it at all conceivable that the Loch Ness monster summers in Bermuda? Could Moby Dick be alive and well patrolling this area? How big exactly is Big Foot and is he/she a strong swimmer? Perhaps a Cyclops incinerates various modes of transportation with a laser eye beam? Does an alien abscond with a life-size ship only to encase it in his/her glass bottle? Are they displayed in a case, or on a shelf somewhere in the cosmos? Could there be a rogue band of mermaids commandeering ships? Do the sailors fall prey to a mesmerizing siren song? Is there a cartel of sorts with those mermaids and pirates? Do they trade in illicit contraband in stolen ships? Do they maintain a secret lair in the Triangle? Maybe they dismantle ships and planes to sell off the salvage. Think of it as a tropical chop shop. It could be a gigantic octopus becomes irritated by ship and airplane traffic interfering with his/her tranquility. If you enjoyed a rather large infinity pool would you tolerate polluting machinery muddying the waters? Now, I'm envisioning Big Foot garbed in a pair of red Bermuda shorts relaxing in the summer retreat he fashioned from a purloined ship. He'd certainly have many decks to sun bathe on as he meditated. |
| Sat. April 11th Prompt. by Fivesixer (654) How are you finding community in these locked-down days? When the three of us, me, myself, and I step outside into the glorious sunshine, brisk invigorating fresh air, and vast wall-free spaces we seek out eye contact with those a hockey stick-length away. We nod. We smile. Perhaps we'll salute, or wave. Often an unspoken signal is exchanged and we stop our saunterings to share in a conversation. "Hey, how's it goin'?" "Oh, hi. Not bad, not bad, at all considerin'." "Ya, this virus thing is scary. Are we standin' six feet apart? Aint we supposed to be metric? I'm surprised no one has chalked off sections on the sidewalk." "Ah, we eyeballed it, close enough. Haha! Get it? We're close enough. Seriously, though, this aint natural. Lines are everywhere. It's like we're all in a herd, or in a cattle chute. Keep your distance, but line up." "Ya,I hear ya. It kinda feels odd. No one is breathin' down yer neck. I miss that. I tell ya what I don't miss, the shovin' and steppin' on the back of ma heels." "Have ya seen the masks? Lord love a duck! People are crazy. At Johnston's, I put a hand to my mouth to cover a snicker. I couldn't stop myself. Oh, everyone shot daggers at me for sure. But this fella had a shopping bag over his face. And his hands were wrapped in bags, too." "Well, I coulda sworn I saw a tea towel tied 'round some man's nose. I aint seen the bras yet, well, 'cept on the internet. My momma would roll over in her grave to see a grown ass man wearing a brassiere on his face." "Well, I guess I should be moseying along. Take care of yourself." "Ta for now. This'll all blow over soon." |
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
