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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. |
| PROMPT: The Wildcard Round! have you ever been on tv, the radio, or in your local newspaper before? Tell us about it! If not, tell us about someone you know who has. Nope to the television appearance, or radio play. Yes, to the newspaper exposure/coverage, ( huh, look what I did, I created an oxymoron...). For many years that seemed like a lifetime, I was a Guider. In reality, I was just a big kid myself, but I was expected to be a leader. I taught games, songs, crafts, camping skills, and more. Sometimes, we partook of local festivities, or completed charitable tasks. If a girl or two reached a milestone earning awards, this warranted a photo and perhaps an article in the local newspaper. Just being out and about often created photo opportunities. So, yes. my mug has been displayed a few times in our 'Almaguin News', a weekly print of a paper. I was tempted to write that my visage 'graced' the paper, but I think that's putting too much of a false allure to/on it. That same newspaper has featured pics of my family and I during our Fall Fair participation period. I believe this is what's known as a human interest type story/angle. My kids have been portrayed playing sports, and operating their small businesses, too. My stories were published in a local monthly newspaper for a steady period that encompassed a little more than two years. It was great exposure, and the entirety of my writing was printed, no edits, no sequels, no installments. It wasn't a national paper, but it felt thrilling to see one of my pieces on the front page. That was a funny bit about July and our national holiday, Canada Day. It was a homey-feeling paper with local news, photos, recipes, how-to's, historical articles, personal essays, humour, and more. Sigh, I miss the 'Great North Arrow'. I know, I know, in these latest blog entries I've mentioned that my hubby is a former competitive figure skater who represented Canada nationally and internationally. It just so happens that this seemed relevant to the topics/prompts, and once again, this is so. He has appeared on television. From 1976 to 1981, a skating program was filmed in Toronto, Ontario. Yes, it had a pretentious name, 'Stars On Ice', but it served to showcase figure skating, so my hubby supported it. He and his partner were guests asked to recreate one of their on ice numbers. He described it as more nerve-wracking than performing before critical judges and an arena full of spectators. They also had to limit their motions and strokes because the studio ice rink was no where near the regulation size. Now, he just rolls his eyes and refuses to answer me when I request an autograph, or wonder out loud if I'm a groupie... It's a good thing I'm not a fainter, or a screamer. |
| PROMPT: War Chest Wednesday! Some people start making or buying Christmas presents in January and by October they're all wrapped and ready to go. Others hit the shops on Christmas Eve, frantically buying presents for everyone. Which are you? Tell us about the best Christmas present you ever gave anyone. Hmm... I am neither uber organized, nor a Christmas present procrastinator. I am most definitely not my mother's daughter. That woman loved all things Christmas, and she would begin the year-long campaign on Boxing Day, or shortly thereafter. Sometimes, her hoarding accumulations were temporarily misplaced, and for some unknown reason not hiding in the big box with the other gifts. Mom always had an operational list to consult, and she stalked sales for months. I don't think I ever prepared a year, or months in advance. There was a time when my kids and I competed in local Fall Fairs with our art, crafts, baking, and photos. Typically, these took place in September and October. It became an impetus to create gifts for special occasions. Every fair, I would tease Mother that both her birthday and Christmas gift were on display and hoping to win red ribbons. I had to do something with this stuff. Mom was our biggest, most appreciative supporter. After years of wrapping gifts Christmas Eve, and always pondering what to make, or purchase for everyone, my hubby proposed a radical idea. Why not offer an all-expenses paid trip to our family? Why not set out on a family vacation? Yes, this involved some planning, and a few members needed to obtain passports, so we began anticipating Christmas in the autumn of 2015. It morphed into a road trip from Ontario, Canada to Disneyworld and Universal Studios, Florida. It had been too long since we'd all travelled together, and we ended up giving each other the gift of presence. We spent ten days enjoying each other's company; my hubby and I, our three adult offspring, and two granddaughters. Nothing had to be disguised in paper. Nothing had to be returned. Nothing was the wrong size, or colour. We had a different Christmas celebration with no snow, and no bundling in heavy clothing. We exchanged the gift of time; time to relax, time to play and explore, time to chat, time to laugh, time to be a family. There may never be another chance to be together in one location at the same time ever again. Careers, schooling, and commitments demand their own attention. I believe that December of 2015 was one of the best Christmases I ever experienced. If it is never surpassed, that is more than okay. |
| PROMPT: Talk Tuesday! What do you do when you can't sleep? Simple... I don't sleep. It's not always my idea. Rarely, do I choose to burn the midnight oil, other factors take charge. My brain is a bully. As long as there are plans, ideas, questions, worries, memories, and more to mull, my brain is not shutting down, and permitting shut-eye. My legs are often forced to pad into the livingroom, and they let me know their displeasure with every grumbling step. The brain has sent them on an errand that necessitated they abandon the bed. My hands are then instructed to rummage around in the darkness for a writing tool, pen, pencil, whatever, and a notebook. All of this is toted back to the bedroom, and my eyes are temporarily blinded by the re-emergence of a bright light. Brain has something monumental that must be recorded to paper, immediately. My poor hands valiantly try to keep up with the urgency, but handwriting has never been their strong suit. Snippets for a poem, or story appear. Sometimes, I recall a conversation, or a reaction. Often, I make observations. Once in a while, I construct a list of things to do, reminders really. Almost always, I postpone rising from bed. I know that I will do it eventually, but hope reigns eternal, and I want my brain to realize that not everything revolves around it. It can just wait 'til I'm ready to capitulate. What 's the rush? I toss and turn. I try comforter on, then comforter off. I stretch. I wiggle my toes. I yawn. I attempt deep breathing. It's all just an act, and I only prolong my sleeplessness. I've been known to reorganize closets and cupboards in the wee hours of the morning. I dunno, maybe double drudgery will induce sleep. If I'm wide awake, I might as well accomplish something useful. Insomnia is no excuse for procrastination. I suppose I cannot deal with mental clutter as easily as I can banish physical clutter. Thank goodness I'm not someone who turns to food when I cannot slumber. If this were commonplace, I'd actually be rolling out of bed. Reading is not a cure for sleeplessness. Oh, I cannot resist it, I succumb. Following a story only increases my restlessness. Once I begin a book, I want to finish it. There are times when I'll go for a stroll. Again, my brain is wired, and it insists my body partake of movement. Stumbling and dragging are good enough as long as brain is experiencing a new environment. Resistance to wakefulness is futile. Peeking at the clock and bemoaning the snail-paced passage of time is unproductive. I just ride out the insomnia. Sooner or later, even it must sleep, be it two, three, or four days later. What's that expression? There'll be time enough to sleep when I'm dead. Oh, I'll be more than ready by then... |
| PROMPT: Motivational Monday! Jazz singer Sarah Vaughan, born on this day in 1924, once said, "When I sing, trouble can sit right on my shoulder and I don't even notice." What affect does writing have for you when trouble sits on your shoulder? If trouble decided to sit on my shoulder and brood like a vexatious vulture, I'd probably open my mouth and squawk. Yep, my singing would frighten anything into hiding. Well, almost everything... My trouble decided long ago to attach itself to my knees. It somehow managed to turn those joints against me, and stage a mutiny. Now they rebel constantly. They moan and groan in protest when asked to stand. They creak and squeak if required to move. Each step evokes a grumble. Aches, stabbings, burning, and twinges remind me I'm not in charge. Trouble is pain with a capital 'P'. I find that trouble cannot always monopolize my attention. When I'm writing, trouble is forced to take a back seat, buckle up, and accompany me on a ride. Sometimes, the journey lasts for several hours, and the time speeds by. Playing with words, plotting a story line, defining descriptions, and crafting characters, pushes my physical discomfort aside. My pain recedes to a dull throb. Perhaps it's a cliché, but with my imagination I am able to take flight. I can run, soar, skip, leap, whatever. My knees do not weigh me down when I write. Creation is liberating, and better than wallowing in self-pity. |
| PROMPT: The Sunday News! This week, a self-driving car was involved in an accident in Arizona. What are your thoughts on autonomous vehicles? Cool new tech of the future? Too many unknowns and variables to be considered safe? Or do you fall somewhere in the middle? Tell us what you think. This accident only served to prove that not everything can be anticipated when it comes to vehicles and traffic. It seems that another car made an unsafe left turn, and the collision was unavoidable. There are several factors that may lead to a motor vehicle accident; inexperience, inattention, health episodes, distractions, poor choices, uncontrolled speed, other drivers and their issues, lack of mechanical maintenance, weather, road conditions, wildlife, and natural disasters. How could all of this be preprogrammed into a self-driving vehicle? Driving involves anomalies. There are unpredictabilities. Can a computer and sensors anticipate anything and everything? I'm comfortable with driving. As a long-time driver, I prefer to make my own decisions, my own choices. I take responsibility for my vehicle, and my driving performances. I control where and when we travel. I control the speed , and the course taken. I am well aware of what is happening. I am not content to merely sit and be a passenger. I believe that the autonomous vehicle is far from being commonplace. I realize that more design modifications are needed, and more testing is necessary. Yes, there are a myriad of features for vehicles that did not exist in the past. Most were created to improve safety, and fuel mileage. They all had to be proven feasible. Seatbelts and air bags are relatively new. Computers and sensors are now a mainstay of modern vehicles. I'm not yet ready to trust implicitly a man-made gadget that eliminates the driver. Flaws, faults, irregularities, call them what you will, mistakes happen. They occur in production with inferior materials, or shoddy workmanship. Some choose to put profit ahead of quality. To err is human, right? What difference will outside factors such as wear and tear, plus extreme weather, have on a self-driving car? What are the repair and maintenance procedures, and expenses? Will owner/operators be taught to utilize and program their new vehicles? Will they be mandated to do this? Will they be licensed? How will liability and insurance be determined? What will become of people who earn their livings as drivers? Nothing compares to an actual person. Why give up so much to a machine? |
| PROMPT: Creation Saturday! Expand on or finish up a dream you've had. If you woke up before it was over, how do you think it ended? If this isn't something that has happened to you lately, come up with a sequel to a recent dream. I'm not much of a dreamer. Most of the time, I struggle to shut off my thoughts so I'm able to sleep. This tends to keep me awake, tossing and turning for hours. When, or if I finally succumb to slumber, I'm a restless sleeper. During my few hours of shut-eye, dreams do not dare to intrude. But, I did experience one whopper of a dream , a premonition, that morphed into reality. I suppose I remembered it's foreshadowing because it was so intense, and dreams were foreign to me. As I have mentioned before, my hubby is a former competitive figure skater. For years, he lived, breathed, and ate all things skating related. Everyday was a training day with cardio exercises, weight lifting, dance lessons, on-ice sessions, and more. He not only competed as a single skater, but he was a pairs' skater too, so his time was always spent moving. Competitions and extra training saw him constantly travelling, nationally and abroad. During his final year of this mayhem, we began dating. This 'regime' of a competitive athlete was new territory for me. We managed to see each other within small pockets of time, but the skating was a priority. Part of his routine was to attend a training seminar with his partner and other team mates that kept him away from home for three or four days at a time. The night before he was scheduled to depart, I envisioned him being struck down by a terrible accident. In my vivid dream, he was bleeding profusely, and he was unable to save himself. As I've stated, dreaming was not normal for me. This one frightened me awake, and prevented me from returning to sleep. The morning of his departure, I saw him off. He sensed something was 'off', and pressed me for details. I shrugged ,and described my dream as if it couldn't possibly be anything meaningful. I was hoping it was just misplaced fear. Two days later, I received a phone call that my boyfriend had been rushed via ambulance to a hospital. His father arranged to pick me up, and we drove several hours to see for ourselves. From the injured party himself and witnesses, we pieced together the story. Paul had his partner in an overhead lift, a platter lift I believe, when suddenly and inexplicably he stopped. He'd been skating forward at full speed and power, and his skates just slammed to a shuddering stop. With the momentum and the laws of physics, his partner didn't stop moving. She was sent into a downward spiral towards the ice. Paul had always been taught to guard and save his partner at all costs, and his instincts kicked in. As he was also in the process of toppling forward, he somehow managed to keep a grip on her, and he lessened the height and intensity of her fall. He twisted and set her onto her feet, but she was not prepared. It all happened too quickly. The moment her skates struck the ice, she stumbled forward onto her knees. Simultaneously, Paul fell forward onto the extremely sharp rear blade of his partner's skate. The metal forced its way into his groin. He recalls a skater who'd been watching from the bleachers jump over the boards and rush to his aid while the coach tended to his bruised partner. He saw the pool of blood spreading under him as his rescuer tried to staunch it with his bare hands. He worried that the first responders would not be able to load him onto the stretcher. He remembers the jolting trip in the ambulance. He had a memory of punching the examining doctor as he stuck his fingers into the wound to gauge its depth. Anyway, he survived a surgery with a multitude of sutures that repaired a severed artery in his groin. He later learned that he'd stopped on a dime. Only coaches wore street clothes on the ice, and one of them must have inadvertently dropped a dime, from a pocket, onto the ice. It froze just above the smooth surface of the ice, and waited for my future hubby's skate blade to hit it. Needless to say, this accident interfered with his training plans. This is still the one and only dream that has ever haunted me. Was it an omen? Had I seen the future? Was it just a coincidence? Did this happen because I'd raised the power of suggestion? Had I passed my fear of the possibility of an accident to Paul, and thereby messed with his skating confidence? |
| PROMPT: Fun Fact Friday! On this day in 1973, musician Lou Reed was bitten on his rear end by a fan during a concert in Buffalo, N.Y. ...the male fan was ejected from the show. Do you have any fun or interesting concert stories involving bands you've seen that you'd like to share with us? Alternately, you can share any fun concert story you've heard if you don't have one from experience. Okay, I'm trying to picture this ass-biting in my mind. The logistics seem off. Did the rabid avid fan armed with only a set of sharp teeth jump up unaccosted onto the stage? Security was a little lax, non-existent, pre-occupied, slow to react. whatever? Did he sneak up on his unsuspecting victim? Was he crawling, and or kneeling? Maybe he suddenly lunged at Lou? Was the attacker snapping and snarling, or foaming at the mouth? I still cannot see someone striking with their fangs teeth... I've seen people follow through with a punch, a slap, or a kick, but to follow your wide open mouth baring your pearly whites? Wait a minute... perhaps Lou's posterior was shaking and bopping right before the nipper , at his face level. Ah.. sometimes the audience sits at different levels adjacent to the main stage... Nope, I'm still not imagining it. Faces and buttocks don't normally meet in public venues. What was this compulsion? Is it referred to as social biting? He had to have been quick, and decisive. Once he zeroed in on his tender target, he was committed. Nope, I've got nothin'. What can compare to this ' tail tale'? My forays to concerts were tame in comparison. But I do have experience with ice-skating shows, vicarious experience, since I never stood upright on a pair of skates long enough to entertain anyone much less physically skate. Once upon a time, my hubby was a competitive figure skater. Every Spring, he participated in numerous ice shows with costumes, music, and a theme. His home rink staged a three-day extravaganza, so this meant lots of action. For one particular show, his job was to push a giant black top hat out onto the ice as a pair of skaters performed on its surface. Timing was tight, and he had to remain unseen. He decided to finish his number, exit behind a screen, skate in under the hat, and then skate back out onto the ice inside the hat. While he was hidden in/under the prop, he was changing into his next costume. He didn't always snap all of his buttons, or re-lace his skates enough. The poor skaters up top were at his mercy, and their hat often wobbled when he momentarily lost his balance. For another show, several of the male skaters wore black outfits painted with reflective paint to resemble skeletons, and they were hoisted into the air to hang from the arena rafters on swings. On cue, the music swelled, and the black lights revealed each of the glowing figures, one at a time. The audience assumed it was a part of the show, and they laughed when a spotlight fell on an empty swing. There was further amusement, when the light panned to the ice searching for the missing skeleton. He was found sprawled on the ice, but his skeleton still looked spooky. Since the whole idea was for them all to be swinging, a quick thinking skater waiting for his routine, skated out and pretended to scoop up the fallen skeleton, and assist him back onto the swing which had been lowered to him. The show must go on. During one jungle themed show, a male skater clad in a loin cloth, swung down from the rafters on a rope. He was channeling Tarzan, and yelling. The plan was for him to swing back and forth a few times, and then land on his skates. Well, he made one broad swing, and he lost his grip, plummeting to the ice. Not that any one expected Tarzan to be able to skate, but this guy wiped the ice from one end of the arena to the other. When my eldest daughter was about five or six, the annual skating show revolved around a Keystone Cop/ British Bobby theme. The Bank robber led the cops on a merry chase along the ice, and the cops stumbled after him. At one point, the thief lost his pursuers, and the officers then created a manhunt. This was all portrayed with the use of a magic screen, a pre-filmed segment, and actual live action on the ice. My daughter suddenly noticed the robber standing right beside her in the darkened bleachers, and not realizing that he planned to sneak back onto the ice and continue the chase, she jumped up and hollered, "He's over here!" A nearby spotlight operator decided to adlib, and he caught the culprit in his halo. The cops then left the ice, and included a run through the audience. Performing the same routine night after night, the skaters seemed to like the spontaneity. |
| PROMPT: The Wildcard Round! What are some of your favourite things about springtime? Well, my 'mostest' favourite thing about Spring is that it isn't winter, not any more. It means Winter has finally worn out its welcome, and grown weary of hurling ice and snow at us. I know that every year, Winter has to give up its grip, and relinquish the reins to Springtime, but each passing year this transition seems to stumble at a snail's pace. Snow melts infuriatingly slowly. Great, now I envision gazillions of snowflake snails... Oh, it feels so freeing to chuck the heavy clothing and boots. It really is shrugging the weight from my shoulders. There's a new spring to my step, a bounce, 'cause I'm no longer struggling through snowdrifts, and against walloping winds. I no longer must spend thirty minutes struggling into my cold-weather gear. Departing home is simpler. The neighbours/locals congregate outside more in the Spring. Without their disguises of toques and mufflers, they are more readily identifiable. I'm able to really see people now. No one is dressed as a potential bank robber with a balaclava. The voices I recognize have a complimentary face. Smiles are more evident. We tend to linger when we need not fear freezing to death. Hallelujah! Now I can just climb into my vehicle, and go, anywhere. I will not miss the considerable time and effort spent brushing and scraping my windshield, or the shovelling it took to create a path to my car. Oh, I especially appreciate that my slips and falls should lessen in frequency! Nothing beats the longer daylight hours. Winter is often so grey and gloomy. The increased warmth of the sun is heavenly. My pale skin laps up the extra Vitamin D. I like the increased bird chatter. They always sound so busy and happy. All the trees and bushes sprout buds promising foliage. Flowers magically spring up, a lovely riot of colour; crocuses, daffodils, tulips. Hopefully, it will be ideal conditions for lilacs. The family birthdays begin with my youngest daughter's in March. Then my eldest daughter's day is in April. Carrie's due date had been April 1st, but for some reason that date didn't agree with her. She instead made her grand entrance near Easter with my father-in-law suggesting we christen her 'Bunny'. Nothing like a stripper tag for his first grandchild. My maternal Nanny was also an April child. My middle child, a son, and I favour June for our birthdays. Oh, how could I forget? My eldest granddaughter was born In May, as was my paternal grandfather, my father, and my mother-in-law. So, Springtime is an excuse to celebrate the people I love. If it is indeed Springtime it heralds the return of camping, campfires, boating, and more. I have just one wish. I wish that the dragonflies hasten their arrival because all too soon their main meal, the blood-thirsty blackflies, will be swarming us mercilessly. |
| PROMPT: War Chest Wednesday! Are you in any writing groups outside of WDC (like in your school or community)? Have you/would you share blog entries in that group? How would you go about doing it, given the logistics of trying to share something that is on the internet in a physical group setting? No, at the moment. I'm not in any other writing group. That would be like cheating, or being unfaithful to WDC. Gasp... Oh, sure I've considered joining a group, but they do not exist in my area. No, really, they do not. I live in a rural village of approximately one-thousand inhabitants. Out of such a small population, not every one is a wannabe writer. High-speed internet is still a relatively new convenience here, and even then it's not easily, or inexpensively available to all residents. The phone lines in the area are ancient, and battered by extreme weather. Cable internet does not exist here. Satellite services are more costly, and again affected by the vagaries of our climate. I suppose travel is a hindrance too, no transit system. Last spring, a few retired locals applied for an arts grant. The funds they received had to be spent on different aspects of the arts. One Saturday was set aside for writers as a workshop. I attended, and shared with the group the existence of WDC, a site no one had known about. Most of those in attendance were retirees seeking a new hobby. Journals were suggested. Of course, some were doubters, and failed to see that they'd have anything worth writing, or documenting. A few of us attempted to establish our own monthly-meeting writers' collective. It petered out after two months. Life made it complicated. The only local school is an elementary one. It's been many years since I sought higher education, and the closest university/college is a forty-five minute drive away. Creative writing is occasionally part of its curriculum. If I were in a writers' group, I see no reason not to share my blog posts. They are examples of spontaneous writing, creativity, and nods to research. Local meeting rooms are WiFi enabled, and they contain computers, and big screens. My blogs could easily be transferred to "the big screen". If needs be, copies could be printed. The blog entries could even be read aloud... |
| Talk Tuesday! rank your favourite fruit flavours-- let's limit them to a Top 10 or Top 5 list--- and then defend your picks in the comments. "feijoa"?? Fruit? I'm self-limiting when it comes to fruit. I can take it or leave it, mostly I'm indifferent. Veggies are more my go-to food choice. Oddly, the only vegetable'ish food I detest is cucumbers. Gack! Cukes make me puke... sorry... Although I do like pickles, dills, and yes, I'm well aware that they are cucumbers drowned in vinegar and spices. Oh, I researched the exotic fruit name that Norb banned from this blog site, the "feijoa". Nope, I'm not tempted in the least to taste something that evokes pineapple, apple, and mint... Yuck! This is another tropical discovery like the "eyeball" fruit my sisters were sampling years ago. Okay, sigh, uncomfortable shiver.... I rarely eat fruit. I have to be in the mood, and my mood swings are not volatile, or extreme. Most fruit smells godawful to me, especially any type of melon. Who was the marketing whiz who decided to combine the scents of cucumber AND melon in candles, lotions, etcetera? Now, I do like citrusy smells, and I do like to eat an occasional orange, and sip lemonade once in a while. I would never turn down a slice of lemon, or lime pie. Grapefruit though is a definite no. Bananas are great for baking; loaves, muffins, cakes.. mmm... Strangely, there is only one apple I like, the Macintosh. It's wonderful in a fresh, hot apple crisp, or other baking. I suppose 'Froot Loops' don't count. My eldest referred to them as 'Fruity Hoops' when she was younger. What's with fruit leather? Do people really like it? Oh, and don't get me started on fruit peel, you know, that yucky excuse that persons try to hide in fruit cakes, and hot-cross buns. Is it made from wax? Anyway, here is my modest fruit list: Number One- orange, Number Two-Macintosh apple, Number Three- banana, Number Four-pineapple, ( especially atop pizza!), Number Five- mango...a newly acquired taste for me ,and featured in a great movie about a talking bird who lived with many different people, "Pauly'..., Number Six- strawberry only if not in jam, I hate jam, Number Seven- peach... All other fruits are icky! |
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