%%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. |
| July 25th Prompt: Reflect on your week. Challenges? Successes? What made you smile? Funny you should ask about my week... I hesitate to mention this, but I am being harassed. I am puzzled and I grow increasingly concerned. Not yet panicked, I am looking over my shoulder and dreading the familiar call of my stalker. His persistence troubles me. Why me? What have I done to attract his wrath? Will I be able to reason with him? Is he actually a he? The little fist waved in my direction and the dark-eyed glare struck me as humorous at first. I must admit I sensed the strong emotion emanating from my confronter although I failed to understand why it hurled at me. The constant tail twitch, or more accurately the agitated thrash emphasisized the chittering barrage. Okay, I recognized anger when I saw it. What I did not comprehend and still fail to see is the why. Why did a red squirrel scratch it's way up to one of my camper trailer's opened windows to share its obvious displeasure with me? The rapid fire chirring and chattering indicated impressive lung capacity. I never heard a pause for breath.The first time this surprised me I knocked on the interior wall and the intense creature scampered away with a flick of its bushy tail, but no abatement of the tongue lashing. I sat inside at a table typing at my tablet. I believed this to be an anomaly. Within a few minutes, my accoster returned to the same window and punched at the screen. This did not seem necessary to me. I swear the arms were waving as it again subjected me to a furious piece of his mind. I repeated my get-away-from-the-window strike and for a brief moment that squirrel defied me. He jumped to the ground and reappeared at the screen door in an obvious hey-I'm-not-finished-with-you move. He peered in at me seated at the table and commenced to chitter-chatter as he vibrated with indignation. His red fur stood on end. He perched atop the metal handrail before he swung from it. I stomped the floor and despite his bravado, he leapt to the deck. Did this end the assault? No. He had to express his agitation, his distress by scrabbling along the awning for several laps. Then he clawed his way to the aluminum roof of the trailer where he skittered and zoomed for a few more moments. For something that probably weighs two pounds at the most, he stomped, not light on his paws at all. This strange behaviour continued for an afternoon.That squirrel had a mission and he expelled a great deal of raw emotion and kinetic energy in an attempt to communicate with me. But why? What had I done to attract this wrath? I'm not anti-squirrel. I let sleeping squirrels lie. I let scampering squirrels scamper. I let foraging squirrels forage. I believe that squirrel lives matter, but what is the matter with this particular beast? He clearly does not see this as a laughing matter. I'd like to brush this odd encounter off, but that squirrel had a bee in his bonnet, a too tight tangle in his tail. Now when I hear a chorus of excited chitter-chatters, I wonder if I will be at the centre of a squirrel plot. |
PROMPT July 24th If you could switch places with one other person, who would it be and why? What in particular would you do? A switcheroo? Trade my body/existence for another? Ah, if only... Well, I definitely do not wish to trade places with a celebrity. No thank you. I value my privacy and I don't feel the need to confront paparazzi, or look over my shoulder constantly. What I do, who I do it with and when I do it is my business and no one else's. If I believed I could really make a difference, I might consider tagging in as a politician. Imagine pushing through new legislation? It's a thankless position though and it moves at a snail's pace. Would I like glad-handing and photo ops? Nope. Perhaps I could trade places with my hubby, the long-distance trucker. Sure, I've accompanied him for some of his cross-country jaunts, but I sat in the passenger seat being jostled. I have no concept of steering that big rig with a heavy load down the road. Yes, I'm a driver, but what I keep between the lines does not compare. Could I maintain that constant vigilance? Could I deal with idiot, inconsiderate drivers? Could I manage the delays, the frustrations, the obstacles, the loneliness? Could I 'live' in a semi for days or weeks? Could I survive on one restaurant meal after another? Could I cope with being at a physical distance and helpless to aid in a family emergency? His only method of contact is a cell phone and daily conversations. He lives that phone company ad "reach out and touch someone." What in particular would I do? I'd permit him to stay home while I delivered freight somewhere. I'd be a long distance trucker even if only for one trip. His semi is a new one and it's an automatic. It's well within the bounds of possibility that I commandeer his truck and propel it along a highway. Yes, the concept is feasible. Now, had it still been a standard... I am acquainted with a few CB words and trucker slang. Perhaps I could fake it until I make it. I am aware that a "chicken coop" cannot be avoided and it's open for business if the light is flashing. "Gators" on the highway are to be avoided. Strange, I know, but we do have them in Canada, too. He no longer hauls a "skateboard", so there'd be less climbing. The "travel agent" would direct my route. I've been taught to respect the "bears." Yep, becoming a replacement trucker is a doable switcheroo. I could even manage with a "black eye." |
| July 23rd Prompt: You are given a full budget and creative licence to bring a book you read to film. What book? Who would you cast as characters? Hmmm, I do not know? It's not that I haven't read any books and I have nothing to consider. I've perused several James Patterson novels so far this summer. I've seen two movies based upon his Cross character, but nothing featuring his other heros. One is a widowed New York detective with ten adopted children. Serious crime seems to find him and he is always involved in a desperate struggle to save his city. The other hero owns and operates a private security firm with offices in many of the world's bustling cities. Both men lend themselves to an action / thriller movie. Recently I read a Nora Roberts book titled ' The Witness.' The premise is that a sheltered teenage girl witnesses a double homicide and insists that she be a witness against ths Russian mob. While in witness protection, an attempt is made to silence her, so she flees. In the intervening years, she changes her identity and her location constantly to survive. Eventually, she tires of this lifestyle and seeks to expose the Russians and maintain the new life she has created for herself. No longer does she seek to be alone and under the radar. I envision this tale as a thriller, but I have no idea who would portray this young woman and her associates. I do not keep track of actors and who does what. I'm certainly not a talent agent, or a casting agent. Why couldn't an as yet undiscovered actress earn this role? Bah, too many novels deviate greatly from their movies. Endings are altered. |
| July 22nd Prompt: Make a list of the top five most important virtues and why. Well, today is an auspicious occasion. For 42 years, hubby and I have been a married couple. We both took the plunge at the age of nineteen. Ack! That's a lifetime ago. For some reason the lyrics of a Sonny and Cher song are tumbling in my brain. "I got you babe." Strange, 'cause we do not refer to each other by cutesy names. It's not as if either one of us could be called a prize, but I believe we won some kind of lottery. We remain together and it's not because we felt coerced, or because we settled. We are friends as well as life partners. Oh, wait, I'm hearing more sappy love song lyrics. "Just the two of us..." I'm certain my hubby is not singing Elton John's ' The Bitch is Back.' Then again he's rolling along a highway in Indiana and I'm not. Okay, enough of the digression. Virtues? There are many in the complex make-up of a marriage. Hmmm... I'll pick patience, love/loyalty, flexibility, trust, and respect/reliability for forty-two years, Alex. They are a winning combination. I am not claiming that marriage is all roses, sunshine and chocolate. It is real, intense work. We are two different personalities agreeing to live together in relative harmony. We have thorns. We have varying tolerances to direct heat and dazzling light. We cannot always respond to sweetness in predictable ways. After all these years, and each one is significant, we have learned to draw upon wells of patience and flexibilty we never dreamed we carried within us. At times, we have agreed to disagree. Tongues have been bitten in frustration. Cooling off periods are necessary. We retire to our own corners to ponder and breathe. It is possible for both of us to be right, or for both of us to be wrong. We are perfectly imperfect. We share mutual love, trust and respect. We know what it is to pack up our kids, our pets, and all of our possessions to move to a new town and start over. We relied upon our relationship. We believed it could be possible and we made it happen. We were a team, a family. We've weathered career changes. Accidents and health scares were not insurmountable. We have never been afraid to laugh. Humour has been a weapon, a balm, a crutch, and a sturdy building block.I'm anticipating at least another forty-two years together. Anything is possible. |
| July 21st Prompt: Write a letter to your fifteen-year old self. Dear Can't Wait To Be Older, So, you're finally fifteen. You thought this day would never arrive. You are so over being a kid. Just think, in a year you'll be driving. Trust me, you're gonna love it. Dad gets you your own car. Wow, eh? Now, it's nothing fancy, but it's a cool car. By the time we reach my current age that car is considered a collector car. Sorry, you won't get to keep it that long. Yep, it is smashed to smithereens, but don't worry you had nothing to do with it. Mark wrapped the Cutlass around a cement light post. Oh, did I forget to mention the parents asked you to share with your brother? Since we're chatting about wheels and transportation here's a heads-up.Well, first of all keep your own head up. Stay alert. Perhaps this can be prevented, but I don't know. Dad will disassemble your bike. Oh, guaranteed you'll be pissd off initially. You are hit two different times riding that bike. Add that to last summer's bike crash and he'll have had enough. Remember the car is coming though, no more pedalling and looking over your shoulder. Good news. The bell bottom jeans you like to wear will eventually make a comeback on the fashion scene. Once you give up the bike you'll really like them. If you hold onto a few pairs, the flares will be seen as retro, or vintage you trend-setter, you. Yes, in the future you will still be able to wiggle into them . Not well into the future, but close enough. Oh, and we still like to wear toe socks the more colourful the better. Now, we tug them on to show off in clogs, or a shoe known as a Croc. Silly name, eh? They're not pretty by any means, but they are manufactured in lots of colours and they are so comfy and easy to slip on. Don't worry you can still wear flip flops. Just their name changes to thongs. Oh, and just a bit of a warning. Some panties are known as thongs, too. The poncho returns to the clothing scene also. What's old is new again. They are made of everything and anything. Oh, I wear a new fabric known as fleece. It's so light weight and warm. You know what? I can still sing all the lyrics to our teenage songs. If you keep listening and grooving, we'll have quite the library in our memory vault. Elton John is alive and kicking although he does relinquish the crazy eyeglasses and feathered costumes. He's not the only performer still cranking tunes out. The Rolling Stones stay together. Wild, eh? All your favourites are destined to be called classics, but why not, they are awesome. So, I suppose I could mention school. Now I regret never studying art. I know, I know. We wanted to try everything, but there was never enough room for all our interests. Maybe you could drop one of the shop classes in favour of art. Never stop sketching and doodling. Oh, and continue to write, I mean stories and poetry. People are going to share their memories with you and they deserve to be recorded.Especially ask questions of your grandparents. I, we, become fascinated with genealogy. I need all the clues I can get. Hang in there. You will leave home when you're nineteen. Soon enough you will be separated from the rules and the expectations.You only have four more years of Dad's cooking and then you will be fending for yourself. Oh, and stop fretting. All that particular indulging will not make you fat. That may come later, much later. |
| July 2oth Prompt: In 1969, Neil Armstrong first set foot on the moon. Afterward, people commonly complained, " If they can put a man on the moon, why can't they ____?" How would you finish that statement today? This statement reminds me of 'The Honeymooners' and Ralph Kramden's comment to his wife, " to the moon, Alice." I guess we almost always thought of the moon as a mysterious, far away place. But moon visitations? It's becoming more feasible.With that possibility in mind... I wish to know why they, they being the all mighty inventors and problem solvers extraordinaire, cannot invent a bandage that actually sticks to skin and is impervious to moisture. Come on, is this that difficult? Oh, and it must not remove hair either. It is a puzzle. Bandages are sticky enough to be used as permanent hair exfoliators, but they refuse to adhere to skin for more than a few minutes. I'm not in the habit of pressing them to my upper lip only to wrench them off in an effort to discourage the return of a moustache. The whole idea of a bandage is to swath a wound and nobody I know heals in the three brief minutes a bandage is in place. Why do they wrinkle and bunch, too? Is it too much to ask for a dependable first aid dressing? Oh, and since I'm whinging about bandaids, why can't their paper-sleeve packages be easier to open? Too many times, I've been squirting, sometimes pulsing my valuable blood as I've struggled to tear open the world's thinnest yet toughest paper wrapper. How is it untearable? It is terrible. Gripping a corner requires super human dexterity and strength not readily available to a wounded, bleeding victim. With desperate pulls and a combination of cursing and pleading, I've torn the trapped bandage in half with its paper cocoon still intact. What the...? If by some miraculous alignment of the stars, I've managed to coax a bandaid from its sheath and wrap it snugly around my mortal wound, why does it fail to remain where it is positioned? Adding extra layers does not impede the release. Okay, since I'm being encouraged to complain I have another 'why can't they.' Why can't they produce better quality driver's licence photos? Why do we resemble no one walking this earth? We do not look like ourselves. We are blurry. We are smudged. We could be anyone.This is our major form of identification? Satellites orbiting the earth can and do create sharper images. Cameras afixed to hair raising, stomach dropping, hurtling- to -imminent- death- and -destruction amusement park rides snap clear, sharp photos. The detail is amazing. Every goose bump is shown. The camera zeroes in our wild, tangled hair. Our bulging tearing eyes compliment our wide-mouthed screams and grimaces. Everyone can see our white- knuckled grip. The friend seated next to us with the blissful, face-splitting grin and both arms waving above their head is shown in stark contrast. We can be caught in a moment of terror, but we cannot be caught posing motionless? Granted we do fork out more of our hard earned money to gain access to an amusement park than we do for our drivers' licences. Perhaps we could arrange to have our driver pics shot as we speed past a pole- mounted camera. Oh wait, those are traffic cams and they can and do identify us. |
| July 19th Prompt: Hobby? I discovered this particular hobby when I first picked up a pencil and pressed it to a piece of paper creating a few random squiggles. I found my new hobby, doodling / sketching. I like imitating facial expressions, body posture, costumes and accessories. Sometimes, I exaggerate a facial feature or emphasize the scowl or an open-mouthed gap-toothed grin. Hairstyles are fun to play with, too. Animals are fair game for my renderings as well. For years, my efforts have entertained delighted children. At one time, my version of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles proved to be in demand. I had to learn their names to appease the young afficionados. Disney characters are popular and one of the first I mastered as a child was Winnie the Pooh.Sime kids simply request a giraffe or a lion, and I oblige. Painting faces is a fun challenge. My colourful canvases range from butterflies to tigers to 'monsters.' I never grow weary of the awed thanks. I'm not a paid, successful artist. A few months ago, I replied to a Facebook contest sponsored by the Canadian cartoonist, Lynn Johnston known for her comic strip For Better Or Worse. She shares the chaos and laughter of family life. She explained in her online post that she and her daughter like to challenge each other with doodle contests. They take turns presenting the other with a few random shapes and lines that are to be incorporated into a cohesive sketch. Lynn posted a few looping, unconnected lines flanked by two circles. The rules were simple. Make something of these given lines without altering or moving them. So, challenge accepted. I did. Initially, I envisioned a swimming whale and I also could see the figure of a person as other submitters did. I turned the offering 180 degrees and saw something different. I created a cat with folded front paws and long tail twitching, sprawled across the top of a fish tank. Bug-eyed fish swam within that tank. As directed, I snapped a photo of my doodle and submitted it online as a Facebook post. Surprise! Lynn liked it and mailed one of her original doodles to me with an inscription referring to me as a fellow cartoonist. Wow! I'm not going to lie. That praise, that recognition, that affirmation made me feel fantastic. I am not in her league. I am a mere dabbler. |
| July 18th Prompt: Have you ever boycotted a company or product? Well, hubby and I refuse to send our vehicles to a local garage or call them for roadside assistance, so I suppose that is our boycott. For years, hubby ran his own auto body shop where he specialized in restoring vehicles. Eventually, he closed up shop and returned to the open highway as a trucker. When he did this he no longer had a garage in which to carry out his own maintenance and repairs. He paid former associates to keep his semi in good repair. This seemed beneficial for everyone. As a long haul trucker only ever home for a short period of time, my spouse sought these procedures when he could. He made scheduled appointments. He always paid his bill. One day, hubby visited this particular garage to discuss a few needed repairs. A new customer walked in, interrupted, and my hubby was ignored. He waited patiently for the owner to return and continue their conversation. When this finally happened he told the owner that his behaviour had been rude. He was a paying customer with limited free time and if his truck could not be fixed, he'd lose money. The interrupter worked locally and did rely upon his vehicle to earn a living. No emergency could account for the interruption. What about first come first served? Thinking that the issues had been resolved, hubby walked out to the parking lot where the new owner's father accosted him screaming and waving his arms. He and my hubby had worked together for years trouble-free, so this came as a shock. Where had the expletive-laced tirade come from? This angry man demanded my hubby take his business elsewhere and my partner did just that. He did not want the inexplicable drama. Two days later, this man phoned to apologize. He begged my trucker to return. Had he thought about the loss of guaranteed revenue? Too late, my hubby has refused to return. He drove an hour away to seek servicing for his semi. We reside in a tiny rural village and we support local businesses. We were once a local business and we appreciated any and all patronage. Were two people offended? Did they both over react? Perhaps. |
PROMPT July 17th How important is the role of music in your life and in your creative process? Do you write to music? If so, what kind and why do you think it helps? Well, this will be a brief blog post. Music is not at all important to my creative process. There I stretched it out by repeating the words of the initial question. No, I do not write to music. I prefer silence. Now I'm not anti-music, no, not at all. If music is playing it is not background noise, it's distracting. I sing along to it. Occasionally, I will feel compelled to dance to it. Since I am far from coordinated, I cannot possibly write and boogie at the same time. Nope, it aint happenin'. I like the sound of silence. I am comfortable in the quiet and I prefer to think immersed in it. Perhaps this is because I savour my me time . I'm not always alone and when that occurs, music is blaring, laughter fills the air, and conversation is ceaseless. I do not attempt to create then. I enjoy the temporary company knowing I will write at a later time. On a side note, similar as it is about background noise, I do not like the unceasing whirring of a fan either. I am aware that some claim it helps them sleep and blocks out other noise. It is still noise! I do not care if it is termed 'white noise.' Noise is noise. A fan is nothing but annoying noise. It whirrs, clicks, squeaks and more. |
| July 16th Prompt: Neowise comet, a "frozen ball of ice that won't return to the inner solar system for 6800 years". Talk about it! So, a giant ball of ice is currently lingering for all to see. Huh, in Canada we'd call that winter and it takes a toll on our roads and vehicles. I've been in a comet. My hubby has tinkered with a comet, in fact he rebuilt one. We've both steered a comet. It really wasn't that difficult. I think it was a comfortable ride. I'm not sure, but there may have been ice. Ice is not a rarity here. Okay, this particular comet is a vehicle manufactured by Ford and known as a Mercury Comet. They sure had lofty model names. There is also a Ford Galaxy. They tended to rust, but they do make comebacks. To spot one head to a car show one starry night. No binoculars required. According to Google, a celestial comet is composed of dust, ice, methane, carbon dioxide and ammonia. This sounds like a sure fire recipe for combustion. Hey, I have an abundance of dust in my home. It's a naturally reoccuring substance. Like the comet it just appears and lingers. Most of that dust resides under the easy chair where certain sitters feel free to expel gas. The cushions of that recliner are methane infused. Wait a minute. I see a science experiment in the making. Okay... In the winter, we shall convince Grandpa to recline in his favourite chair outside. Of course, we will provide him with a parka. We're not barbarians. We shall sacrifice several of the dust bunnies, too. Hey, monkeys were launched into space in the name of science. We shall bribe a grandchild to pull Grandpa's , aka Menace of the Universe's finger 'cause we know what to expect. Boom ! Kazam! Fresh, natural methane meets dust and ice. Instant home-grown comet? |
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