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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: Talk Tuesday! Last day of the month! Assess your work this month... tell us what you think, and what you've learned- both about yourself and your fellow participants. That's it? Another month of blogging has been posted? Where has the time gone? I really plotted, and plodded along for thirty entire days... consecutive days. I believe I survived with most of my wits still about me. I was not reduced to a blubbering basket case. My writing muscles feel stretched and supple. Thank youFivesixer  ! You teased and tempted me. Let me think back chronologically... The blog prompt for May 2nd yielded some fun and eye-opening results. Who knew that we had catchphrases? Yes, I suppose a frequently muttered curse word qualifies as such. May 6th was a challenge, and required a great deal of thought. That was when we were asked to create an 8-line poem inspired by our fellow bloggers entries. Talk about randomness. I liked the prompt for May 12th in which I was asked to describe how I measure speed or distance. It proved there are many different ways to approach a topic. I had fun with the prompt for May 17th. I wrote about "my" Uncle Festus , a known arsonist, attending a family fireworks celebration. That was a rather unique prompt. Fire figures into a great deal of English phrases. The Creation Weekend of May 20th and 21st was also fun. Planning an imaginary party where anything is possible? And finally, I've never thought to create a backstory for a garage sale find which was May 27th's prompt. I shouldn't have been surprised. Treasures abound at these sales, and everything has a history. Thank you and congratulations to my fellow bloggers. You persevered. You created. You succeeded. I like your different writing voices, and blended, we make one fine choir. |
| PROMPT: Motivational Monday! Comedian Bob Hope, born on this day in 1903, once said," If I have to lay an egg for my country, I'll do it." He was a proud supporter of the U.S. military and would often do comedy shows for troops stationed over seas. When have you "laid an egg" or lent your talents to a greater good, be it writing or life in general? Well, it's not as if I've ever donned a cape, or a mask, or leaped tall buildings in a single bound. Come to think of it, I've never travelled the world entertaining soldiers, or anyone for that matter either. My so-called powers are not extraordinary. Have I made sacrifices? Have I acted as a mother hen? Yes. I have taken young girls under my wings and mentored them. For many years, I volunteered as a Girl Guide leader. I hosted weekly meetings where we sang, created crafts, studied subjects, danced, learned to cook and bake, built camp fires, hiked, planted trees, cleaned forests ,and more. I also attended campouts, and trekked to other towns. I heard and shared many laughs. The camaraderie was wonderful, and life-affirming. I witnessed girls of five blossom into lovely young ladies of seventeen. Several of us Guiders refer to them as "our girls." I still recall their names, and their effervescent personalities. I was not always the teacher. The girls taught me new approaches, and presented me with amazing perspectives. |
| PROMPT: The Sunday News! This week, legendary disco act KC and the Sunshine Band returned to the Billboard Pop Chart with their first single in decades... and quite a few groups whose heydays have long since passed have seen varying degrees of success in recent years. Which 60's, 70's, or 80's singer, or band would you like to see make a successful musical comeback in the next year? May I be greedy and request all of the singers and bands return? I mean how can I choose a handful, or even just one? There are so many fantastic songs. All evoke nostalgia. KC and the Sunshine Band performed great, catchy, dance tunes. They were not alone. If only singers like Michael Jackson , Prince, and George Michaels could be resurrected. It was a shame they died so young. They epitomized talent. Fans worldwide recognized their music. I suppose if I really had to choose, I would love to see and hear Queen, ELO, Supertramp, The Who, Chicago, Jefferson Starship, BTO, ... as I already stated, the talent pool is vast and deep. Hmm, this is like being asked to choose just one flavour of ice cream, or one type of cookie. My sweet tooth has no favourites. |
| PROMPT: Creation Saturday! Create a backstory from the strangest thing you've seen at a garage sale. Ah, yes 'tis the season of yard, and garage sales. Already, I've noticed hand-lettered signs popping up on town corners, and front lawns. The strangest thing I ever saw offered at a garage sale was a corset. It was so unexpected, and out of place stretched across a picnic table. At first glance, it resembled a cloth accordion. I had to pick it up, and 'see' with my hands. Sure enough, it was a cloth and bone woman's torture under garment. The stays, or laces in the back were quite long and criss-crossed. It looked uncomfortable. How had it travelled to its current location? Hmm. I'd be willing to bet it was smuggled across the border and into Canada on the back of a slave fleeing oppression in the deep South. Yep, it had been a silent passenger of The Underground Railroad.. Just imagine its wearer barely able to breathe due to the tightness of this corset, and the stifling, suffocating weight of the loose straw piled over her head in a horse-drawn wagon. She'd be perspiring, and her heart would be pounding in her ears. Originally, this corset had belonged to her mistress. It had been the job of this young woman to act as a lady's maid. Every morning, she had tugged and tied this, and similar corsets. Her mistress had tossed this particular corset aside in favour of a newer one. This maid had aspired to be ladylike, so she adopted the wearing of a corset. It was fashionable to project an hour glass figure. She learned beauty had a painful price. Once safely across the U.S.-Canada border, this brave young woman celebrated her new found freedom by shucking the bonds of her corset. She really could breathe easier. |
| PROMPT: Fun Fact Friday! On this day in 1959, the word "Frisbee" became a registered trademark of Wham-O. What is your favourite memory of a childhood summer outdoor toy? I remember tossing a Frisbee around. There were different techniques. It flew through the air with a distinct arc. It was a great gadget to throw and catch in a lake because it floated if it was not caught. Kids and dogs loved them. Ah, good ol' nostalgia. Now I'm typing, and reciting ditties that had been hibernating in the recesses of my memory. I speak of jump, or skipping rope rhymes. They were always catchy, and of a quick-tempo. Double Dutch was the premiere challenge of skipping. This required the jumper/skipper to constantly leap over two turning ropes. Of course, every child was competitive, and attempted to better not only another child's number of jumps, but surpass their own personal record as well. We all wanted to skip forever. Skipping was not always planned in advance. Sometimes, it happened spontaneously wherever we found ourselves. No special clothing, or equipment was needed. Often we jumped in our bare feet. The rhymes set the pace of the rope-turning. Here are a selection of the skipping songs I recall... "Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn around. Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch the ground." "Bubble gum, bubble gum in a dish. How many pieces do you wish? 1,2,3,4,5,..." "Cinderella dressed in yella went upstairs to kiss a fella, made a mistake and kissed a snake. How many doctors did it take? 1,2,3,4,5,..." "Miss Susie had a baby, his name was Tiny Tim. She put him in the bathtub to see if he could swim." "Blue bells, cockle shells, eevy, ivy, over, my mother said that I was born in January, February, March..." ' |
| Prompt: The Wildcard Round! One big thing versus lots of little things... take that in any direction you'd like. As many of you fellow bloggers may not be aware, camping has officially begun in my area of Canadian paradise. Whatever the weather, hardy fools such as myself endeavour to enjoy the out of doors. Yes, it is May, and yes, so far, I have experienced extremes ranging from snow, frost, torrential rain, and strong gale-force winds to muggy, sunny, heat waves. It does make the being prepared part of outdoor life difficult. Parkas, hats, and mitts must share space with flip flops, shorts, and t-shirts. The mercurial nature of our local weather is a big thing. Am I bundling up today, or stripping to only the barest of essential clothing? The real problem though is that the biting insects thrive upon dampness. They breed in water, and the more of it that exists, the millions more of them that live to pillage and maraud. They are the "lots of little things", the hundreds of gazillion little things. Ideally, they procreate in cool to warm conditions, which describe our Springtime. Voracious and insatiable are these buggers' defining traits. Far worst than mosquitos are the dervishes known as blackflies. They are tiny and relentlessly quick. Their single purpose seems to be to extract as much blood and skin as possible from each squirming victim. The welts they inflict upon our winter white and tender skin itch and swell to a far greater degree of torture than the nibbles of mosquitos. Somehow they are able to breech the defenses of our clothing. They hide under our caps, lurk in our hair, and shimmy up sleeves and pant legs. Unlike the distinctive whine/whirr of a prowling mosquito, the blackfly hunts in stealth silence. Actually, I believe they stalk their victims in a pack. Like carnivores, they prefer the fresh blood pulsing in an exposed neck. Years of battle have not brought me any relief, or a solution. So called bug sprays are useless. Blackflies consider Deet to be a skin marinade. Lemon balms simply add flavouring. I've tried stuffing a dryer sheet into my hat, or hood, or pocket.... Yes, I smelled wonderful and fresh, but it acted as an aphrodisiac to the blood-suckers, an alluring perfume. Last Spring, I was desperate enough to attempt anything, and so, I dabbed Vicks Vaporub on my pulse points. Whooee, my eyes teared from the mentholatum, and my sinuses were kept surprisingly clear. Did it repel the bloodthirsty blackflies? NO. Now, I wander outside in a hooded bug jacket made of a screened material. ( Think of a walking window screen with a zipper.) It's unnerving to see the swarming blackflies hovering within mere centimetres of my perspiring face. They are sneaky, and quite skilled in the art of the hunt. Those critters I can see are the decoys. They serve to distract me while others penetrate my pitiful screen. SIGH! All I can do is pray for hotter temperatures, consistently hot weather. Blackflies find summer'ish times make them sluggish. Perhaps they do not find the necessary summer sunscreens to be delicious, or are they deflected by the lotions' slipperiness? |
| PROMPT: War Chest Wednesday! Would you rather be a sailor, or a shipbuilder? Good question... and, you mean I have a choice? These are two careers that I've never before considered. Do I possess skills and an aptitude for either? Well, for years now I have maintained a home. I have learned to wield a mop, so I suppose that particular prowess translates directly to the swabbing of a ship's deck. For all family forays, I've been the chief packer and planner, so I know a thing or two about battening down the hatches. I have navigated roadways via maps, street signs, and poorly plotted directions, so I am able to make my way from one port to another. I have weathered mutinies, squabbles, and the temper tantrums of children, so the dissent of a crew would just roll off my shoulders. Intense training has honed my survival instincts. My hearing is finely-tuned. I have eyes in the back of my head. I sense and foresee everything. Nothing dares to happen without my consent, so I would bring discipline to a ship. This ship would be kept in an immaculate condition, ship-shape. A tidy ship is a happy ship. Yes, I would like to be a sailor. Travel and adventure appeal to me. There's something so bracing about accepting a new project. If the voyage guarantees to be kid-free, I'll sign on as a sailor. It's not quite the leisurely cruise I always envisioned, but I will experience fresh air, and a new freedom. Wait, will there be a salary, too? Um, nah, I cannot see myself as a shipbuilder. Tools and I do not see eye to eye. We do not have a rapport necessary to achieve success. They are so awkward and contrary. They are heavy and bulky. I struggle to wield them, and they resist my efforts to control them. They recognize and belittle my lack of coordination. Tools make me feel inferior. Alas, the only thing I could build is a reputation for personal injuries. Ah, I can smell the sharp tang of the salt air, and feel the brisk breeze blowing through my hair... The slapping waves and gentle bobbing of the ship will lull me to the first restful slumber I've had in decades... An audience of squawking sea gulls may serenade me... I could burst into spontaneous song... "Rolling over the billows, rolling over the sea, rolling over the billows in the deep blue sea"... |
| PROMPT: Talk Tuesday! What 's the greatest fast food indulgence no longer available that you wish would come back and be something you can get at any time? Umm, nothing off hand... I cannot say I am a fast food fan . I refer to McDonald's as McChoke, or McPuke. I wonder what it was like to visit a soda fountain? In movies, it seems like a social hang-out, a fun, happening place. A malted milk, or a rootbeer float might be a tasty treat. When hubby and I were starry eyed and dating, we frequented a restaurant known as Mother's. One of its promotional offers was a free second serving of spaghetti. Somehow, he managed to put away his two plates of pasta plus my extra . Sadly, this wonderful venue closed years ago. Perhaps hungry customers were to blame. It sure would've been an inexpensive place to feed our crew. I remember a fish and chip shop that my family visited for take-out. Each individual meal was wrapped in newspaper, and the food could be eaten with the fingers, no need for the formality of plates and forks. Now there are public health regulations/restrictions. Huh, a little grease, and printers' ink never killed anyone. Now I'm feeling nostalgic... |
| PROMPT: Talk Tuesday! What 's the greatest fast food indulgence no longer available that you wish would come back and be something you can get at any time? Umm, nothing off hand... I cannot say I am a fast food fan . I refer to McDonald's as McChoke, or McPuke. I wonder what it was like to visit a soda fountain? In movies, it seems like a social hang-out, a fun, happening place. A malted milk, or a rootbeer float might be a tasty treat. When hubby and I were starry eyed and dating, we frequented a restaurant known as Mother's. One of its promotional offers was a free second serving of spaghetti. Somehow, he managed to put away his two plates of pasta plus my extra . Sadly, this wonderful venue closed years ago. Perhaps hungry customers were to blame. It sure would've been an inexpensive place to feed our crew. I remember a fish and chip shop that my family visited for take-out. Each individual meal was wrapped in newspaper, and the food could be eaten with the fingers, no need for the formality of plates and forks. Now there are public health regulations/restrictions. Huh, a little grease, and printers' ink never killed anyone. Now I'm feeling nostalgic... |
| PROMPT : Motivational Monday! Sir Arthur Conan Doyle , born on this day in 1859, once said, "Any truth is better than indefinite doubt. " How do you relate to this? I suppose some people choose to lie to themselves, or ignore stark reality. Perhaps they fear the unknown and would rather not face it head on. If they deny it, ignore it, refuse to accept it, it cannot harm them. Pretending keeps them safe? This seems to be true of health matters. Personally, I'd want to know about any health concerns. Knowing what to expect, knowing what treatment options exist, being aware of steps to attempt, and accepting the course of an illness make perfect sense to me. I would never give up, or admit defeat without first trying to battle a disease. I'd want hard truths. |
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