%%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. |
  My computer chair is in the upright position. While not technically strapped in, my feet are braced against the floor. Today, I am virtually travelling within Sydney , Australia. I have advised my ears to translate the unique accent I shall be immersed within. I do not plan to so much as blink. It shall be all about the letter A with today's activities. Adrenalin. First stop, all be it a brief one, was Hilton Sydney. Yes, I verified that it is centrally located. In the heart of the city one might say. When I departed anticipating my full day of screaming sightseeing, I was still scratching my head and pondering. What exactly is that sculpture thingy in the lobby? Is it a strange conception of a wire funnel cloud? A giant worm? I can say definitively it was---- tall. First up on my expedition bucket list was a dip, okay, a dive with the sharks at Bushrangers Bay. I assured the handlers that I was indeed a certified diver, they didn't need to know this is a virtual qualification. I did pause to consider I might be certifiable. Submerged with man-eaters? Are sharks ever referred to as women-eaters? Would I be secure with that distinction? Nope, sorry, I'm not male, therefore, you cannot dine upon my person. Sink those impressive teeth into something/someone else. I had to be reminded to breathe. My reflex was to hold my breath and will my muscles not to twitch. Of course this was my feeble attempt not to draw attention to myself. No one suggested I avoid eye contact, but sharks could be sensitive to the stares of tourists. I concluded they are not in the least cuddly, pettable creatures. On a side note, I enjoyed the sense of suspended animation and the serenity of bobbing under the ocean. I survived without the loss of a limb which I consider a positive. Next I opted to try my hand, or test my notoriously fickle balance surfing at Bondi Beach. I must stress I mean the above the ocean, on the waves type of surfing. Computer surfing has been hazardous in and of itself. The instructors assured me I would increase my confidence and actually be able to boast of a certain amount of technique. They blathered on about catching a wave, but I am confused as to what I am supposed to do with it if I should trap it. Are their international treaty laws forbidding the smuggling of waves? Would a wave fit into my luggage for the return flight home? When I came within spitting distance of a verifiable wave it slapped me and knocked me into the surf. I am not one to complain and point fingers, but the surf board was not as soft as advertised. It packs quite the wallop. I don't believe I shall ever develop a taste for the salt water. Swallowing it is not at all refreshing. The obviously veteran surfers were correct. I have the newfound confidence to now know for certain that I am not a surfer. Balance and I are not on the same level. Since it was impossible for me to be any more soaking wet, I next hopped aboard a Sydney Harbour Extreme Adrenaline Rush Ride which is a mouthful meaning I strapped myself into a jet boat. Again the waves pummeled me, but I didn't care. What a rush! I whooped and hollered as I spun in 360-degree spirals, power slides and wave jumps. I can still hear the roaring in my ears and the engine thrumming in my veins. I'd immersed myself in the sparkling, inviting, azure sea, yet I hadn't viewed its true beauty. For this I elected to try tandem skydiving over a beach. Strapped next to a stranger and sharing a parachute gives closeness a new meaning. I wonder if my air travel partner is now deaf. The wind seemed to tear my screams from my fluttering, trembling lips , but they had to go somewhere. His ears were within my vocal range. I recall a certain amount of flapping on my part not that I hoped to sprout wings and fly. My arms and legs wished to flail. Those poor sunbathers below must have believed a squawking pterodactyl was about to pounce. The sky high view was beyond breathtaking and I had to once again be reminded to breathe. The blue is stunning and dazzling. My initial plummet became a floating suspension. I experienced weightlessness and a lull in time. Thanks Sydney for my adrenaline fix. My blood is pumping on all cylinders now. |
| ANTARCTICA Vernadsky Station, May 2nd, 2024. I tell you waking in the morning here does not entail simply rolling out of bed. Rolling in a sleeping bag leaves me discombobulated which is a long, fancy word for dizzy and entangled. Anyone up for a sack race? I also feel somewhat stiff, but surprisingly not frozen. When I'm snuggled in the cozy confines I cannot help but think of the cartoon/comics in which bears consider campers in sleeping bags to be packaged food. I'm fairly certain penguins are not prey animals. I am enjoying the wonderful absence of insects, too. Thank goodness parkas do not exist small enough to fit mosquitos. Some of my resonate dizziness must be an after effect of imbibing the local vodka. It may look like water, but it does not hydrate like H2O. Although plenty of ice surrounds this research center I did not add any to my drink. I am grateful to the steadying pole at the Vernadsky Station Lounge. I'm almost certain the South Pole would not have let me lean on it. The winter temperatures here are balmy compared to those back home. Minus 20 Celsius? I dressed in fewer layers for this expedition. What timing. We are invited to visit green snow and I am feeling somewhat green around the gills. When I first viewed it I thought to myself how pretty. The green is so vibrant set against the vast whiteness of the snow. It's akin to something Dr. Seussish. Why yes, I like green snow Penguin Sam I Am. It appears fuzzy and reminds me of moss. Apparently, this green snow is an algae bloom that acts as a carbon sink, and is due to rising temperatures. Back home I've yet to notice the early crocus. Soon the daffodils, lilac and tulips will make a triumphant return. I wonder if I will learn to see and differentiate the shades of white that exist in this harsh landscape. The Inuit are said to have many names for 'white'. Of course I will mail something to my family just for the post mark. I also wish to search for a novel written by the Ukrainian writer Andry Kurkov. It is based upon the first Ukrainian expedition to this research station. The title is intriguing, Death and the Penguin. |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " April 24th, 2024.PROMPT: Write about a library, or libraries of your childhood. Ah, the local library of my childhood. It was my second home, my sanctuary. I would stroll there. Occasionally, I pedaled my bike there. I could and did spend hours there lost in exploring the banks of shelves groaning under the weight of books. Sometimes, I actually curled up in one of the armchairs, but most often I sat cross-legged on the floor comforted by the shade, the shadows of books waiting for me to select them. The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, Black Beauty, Call of the Wild, Wind in the Willows, Charlotte's Web, Anything and everything Dr. Seuss, I devoured them all. I remember being in awe that I was permitted, no, entrusted to borrow books. I treated each one as the treasure it was to me. Having my very own library card made me feel special, too. At one time I considered the position of librarian to be a coveted, revered one. Imagine being surrounded by books all the time. Heaven! |
| I love reading anything created by Canadian author Louise Penny. She has created believable, lovable characters based in or near an imaginary Quebec town, Three Pines. They are murder/mysteries and so much more. She delves into human behaviours and psyches. I cannot wait for the next offering!1. How the Light Gets In2. A Great Reckoning 3. Glass Houses4. The Beautiful Mystery5. The Long Way Home6. The Nature Of The Beast7. Kingdom Of The Blind8. A Rule Against Murder 9. A Madness of Crowds 10. State of Terror( co-authored with Hillary Rodham Clinton) Each of these novels is a delight to peruse. I recommend them all. Her Surete detective Armand Gamache is a wise leader and student of mankind. |
| Why I Like Being On WDC I discovered this awesome site back in 2014. Wow, the years have flown by in a haze/daze of writing. I did not have an inkling as to what to expect. I had no expectations, or elusions. I signed up on the spur of the moment. And since then I have not regretted my choice. Here, I found other avid writers of like mind, or otherwise. Everyone wishes to write and most are happy to share their creations for me to read and/or review. Like wise, I enjoy receiving positive feedback in the form of reviews. I'm free to enter contests if I so choose and the ones I do enter offer unique prompts that cause me to think and stretch my writing muscles. Sometimes, a word or a phrase will trigger amusing memories. I like to believe I am preserving and highlighting family history. Before WDC, I had never attempted to blog. I had never so much as glanced at a blog. I discovered I like to blog and in that regard there are various blogging contests, challenges and activities. Again, they tend to be spontaneous bits of writing. I have surprised myself with my ability to conceive an idea, compose it and enter it in a twenty-four hour deadline. Two daily contests operate within that tight timeframe of twenty-four hours, The Writer's Cramp and Daily Flash Fiction. From start to finish, I am capable of submitting coherent, feasible projects. The prompts are often amusing, or educational. I have participated with several challenges and enjoyed their individual attractions. I completed a dive into Wonderland which required many, diverse creative entries on my part. Currently, I am a Got'er never having viewed a single episode of Game of Thrones. To say it is intense would be to utter a blase understatement. I have never written so many reviews ever! I like to read, so the torture is not too much. Again, I have responded to a wide variety of GoT prompts and they are fun to bring to life. I will not bend a knee! I plan to persevere. The Newsfeed is similar to Facebook in that it is a social outlet where WDCers may post and comment to anything therein. Many posts brighten my days. Who doesn't love a good laugh, or two? As I have stated and I am reiterating, I like it here at WDC! I have no plans to disappear just yet.(411 words) |
| Here are the two prompts for Week Three Prompt # One: I hereby resolve to get a job. Andre say's "Not Likely". I hereby resolve to take better care of my teeth. Andre pronounces teeth as teef. Well, what can or should a monkey say about these prompts? As far as Andre is concerned he has a job and he is gainfully employed. Someone has to be the life of the never-ending party at the bar. He fancies himself as an influencer. Anybody who is anybody nowadays is an influencer. Andre only carouses with the finest locals. His drinks of choice become everyone's choice. Of course no one realizes he will down anything. Whatever happens to be within reach is good enough. Avant garde? Revolutionary? Trailblazer? Bold? Meh, Andre shrugs with the best. If he swings from the rafters he inspires fellow imbibers to do likewise. If he feels restless and hops from bar stool to bar stool he invents a new drinking game. The influenced refer to it as monkey business or Andre-ing. He is the ultimate party animal. Rowdy revelers shout, "What would Andre do?" Anything. Andre would do anything. Except take care of his 'teef.' He still has a few. Brushing and flossing are so tedious. He prefers to rinse with alcohol, flavored alcohol.There's nothing like a cold beer swish. So far, crack a few still refers to his preferred method of popping the beer cap with his teeth. Why search for a bottle opener? |
| Week 2 Prompt 1: I hereby resolve NOT to make any New Year's Resolutions at all. Andre's Fractured Resolutions To make or not to make New Year's resolutions? That is the question that haunts every self-aware or unself-aware individual! Apparently Andre has made and broke "I hereby resolve NOT to make any New Year's Resolutions at all." He is, of course, not going to admit he either made or broke this resolution. That's alright! If you're going to make a resolution, that you know you're going to break ten days into the New Year, it may as well be one that's easy to break. If Andre did break this resolution, what type of resolution would he make that he knows he would break. How about, "I will NOT drink any more banana beer or I will not eat any more bananas." That sounds like a resolution that a monkey, like Andre, would make and break on the same day. I resoluted, or is that resolved to make a unique New Year's resolution last year. I remember the perfect one came to me after a crazy night of partying. I'd just climbed up into a hammock to sleep away the cob webs and I tumbled out. It wasn't my first crash to the floor. It wasn't even my first accident. For some inexplicable reason I seem to stumble, trip, or hip-check anything firm enough to leave bruises. Sometimes I swear doorways narrow somehow just as I decide to squeeze through. Tables and chairs try to tackle me and knock me off balance. Walls and their adjoining corners attack without warning, especially my tender toes. I vowed to be more careful. Everyone says it to me. I've heard it directed to me so many times, so perhaps I should listen to the advice. So, I tried to pay attention to my surroundings and be more aware. I thought bundling myself in bubble wrap and strapping a helmet to my head might be rather drastic. So, yep, I decided to be more mindful. It couldn't hurt, right? I trained myself to stop and scout. I really tried to plot safe, smooth passage around furniture. I gave walls a wide berth and I held my breath slipping through doors. I became vigilant. I don't know if I relaxed and let down my guard, but fifteen days after January first I slipped, and skidded into a most solid wall. During the whirlwind slide I flung an arm through a window and bounced my chin off the window sill. Despite the best intentions, I broke my New Year's resolution. Obviously, I was not careful...enough. |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 3978: January 10, 2024. Prompt: Houseplant Appreciation Day On this blustery, snow whipped January day it is soothing to gaze upon my vibrant, thriving houseplants. They remind me that the winter season doesn't last forever. It just seems as if it lingers far too long. Sheltered from the freezing temperatures my plants and I are warm and comfortable. We are free to believe we are snug in a rainforest, a lush, green piece of heaven. No, there are no monkeys swinging from the branches or peeking around the stalks. I've yet to hear or spy a brilliantly coloured bird. I'm happy snakes have not decided to coil amongst the leaves. From somewhere the occasional spider appears and attempts to spin a gossamer web. I do appreciate the intricate craftmanship spun by spiders, I do. I don't appreciate where these creations are hung. The presence of a spider also unsettles me. They seem to skulk about. Creepy-crawly is an apt name . Nothing gets the ol' blood pumping like a black spider rappelling down from the ceiling and hovering over one of my shoulders. The sudden presence of a housefly is also puzzling. From where did it come? It is most definitely not a stealth insect. It buzzes and batters itself against a pane of glass. Is it instinct that compels the panicked fly to do this? Outside will not be the escape it anticipates. The Money Tree that my daughter gifted is intent upon living up to its name. When it first settled into my home it measured about six inches in height. Soon, it will surpass six feet tall. I've yet to see any sign of money. The bamboo that graces my kitchen table has sprouted this past year. I'd describe it as a bean pole, but that's an insult, correct? The four orchids seem content with their placement atop the coffee table. Every few months they reward me with lovely blooms of mauve, white and pink. The various succulents guarding a window ledge have agreed to thrive, but only if I remember they do not have much of a thirst. Two of them were stars at my youngest daughter's wedding almost eighteen months ago. I still have the prayer lily from my Mom's funeral nine years ago. Once in a while it produces a white bloom. If I could figure out how to stuff a greenhouse into my apartment I would. A home needs houseplants and I'd like to welcome more of them. |
| Prompt Number Two: Getting off your duff and taking action when something needs to be sold is often easier said than done, particularly when it's as big as a house. I resolve to finally sell the house. Is Andre selling the bar, whos house is he selling? Is your Muse raising money? What's going on? I've decided to sell the bar. It's time. I can feel the grass growing under my feet and I don't like the feel of it. I'd say it's annoying. And don't tell me to cut it, who has time for that messing about? No, I'm not seeking greener pastures. Why would I? Why trade this bar for a bigger field that requires more attention? I did mention I don't mow grass, right? Some of the bar patrons, or as I see it hangers-on, think all I do is sit and scratch myself. That's a fair observation, I do enjoy a good, thorough scratch, but now I have another itch to take care of. Are you itching to hear my plans? No, I don't have a plan, or a bucket list. This bar came about because of a whim. I needed somewhere to hang, let loose, party, whatever. Swinging from branch to branch in a steamy jungle gets old. I enjoyed the hijinks here. I never knew drunks er, alcohol aficionados loved almost anything with a banana. C'mon, get a life. I mean thanks. Running a bar into the ground has been a blast. Everyone expected me to be an animal and, well, I am. I'm a monkey after all. It's my nature to shriek, throw things and scurry about all willy-nilly. I have urges. I don't pretend to be a planner nor am I a pantser. I did try them once, pants that is. I never understood all that fuss about keeping your pants on. It's my pierogi, no, wait that's one of those dumpling'ish things. It's my pirouette. No! My brain is a bit scrambled although I'll admit I'm dancing about here. Aha, I've got it. It's my prerogative to try something new. I'm not sure if I'll need a bucket, or not. I'm not worried about a list. Writing gives me cramps and I don't have a pocket to keep one in. If I had a bucket I could create sand castles, or go crabbing. I've noticed a panhandler or two proffering a bucket to passersby. I could get lucky with that. I did mention I needed change. ( 415 words ) |
| What would I gift to that cheeky fellow, er, um, monkey Andre? Something he wouldn't chuck? Doesn't he like to toss things, things that aren't necessarily round and favoured by most canines? Am I to muse upon an unthrowable object, something not aeronautically suited for flight, something awkward, yet somehow useful to an imbibing/partying creature of the bar? Oh, and the other criteria is that the gift not be a consumable? Whew, I had to reread that. At first, harried glance the word combustible exploded into my psyche. Of course I wouldn't dream of sending a bomb to Andre. If he reads this blog entry he may well determine it's a type of bomb, but, meh, so be it. Is it possible he could eat my words? If so I don't recommend that lamentable action. Okay, enough stalling and scrambling for a response. I suppose I would bestow a hammock upon this lucky monkey and not just any boring, everybody-has-one hammock. This hammock will be unforgettable. It shall be resplendent as a replica of the Canadian flag. That's right. It'll be red and white with a striking red maple leaf at its center. I should think Andre would hang this glorious hammock anywhere. Two trees are not always required although possible. String it from rafters, anybody's rafters. Permit it to swing from the bar, but be prepared to dispel inebriated squatters. Wait, can a hammock have a squatter? The point is this lounger could be strategically placed for maximum function and comfort. Andre will possess a new breezy method of laying about. Did I mention the cup/drink holder? Andre should not be forced to vacate his languishing in search of refreshments. I first thought of sending pure Canadian ice to Andre for his various bar concoctions, but ice doesn't lend itself to travelling via mail. Now if he could appreciate the brief, but refreshing splash of water he'd experience upon opening the 'ice box' and consider it a unique present... So, just to be clear, er, clearer. Andre please do not attempt to chuck or eat this hammock. Oh, and please do not remember me with a scowl or worst should or if you dismount/fall from the hammock unexpectedly. I may be admitting this has happened once or twice to me. Andre's Old2New Year Blogging Party The future looms before us all - 02 January 2024 prompts Who at Andre's Old2New Blogging Party stood out to you? Explain why based on their costume, their wit, their wisdom, their friendliness, and their blog entries and comments. What gift would you give to Andre to remember you by and not just get quickly used and tossed? (IOW, not a consumable) |
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