%%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. |
| PROMPT March 26th Fill in the blanks in this sentence and expand on it in your entry: I think people spend too much time ________ when they could be _________. I think people spend too much time worrying when they could be daydreaming. I'm presuming that too much means an exorbitant amount of time. People, most people, are over-achievers. They have the mind-set that more is always better. Go big, or go home. They are like this with worrying, fretting, "oh mying." Too many believe in the worst case scenario, a doomsday. There's a great deal we cannot ever control, the weather, natural disasters, the stock market, people's opinions, people's reactions, and a virus dubbed COVID-19. Bad things happen, yes, but so do good things, wonderful things, fantastic things. Think of the amount of energy worriers burn. They devote too much to the what-ifs. They can be stuck envisioning the terrible and totally be oblivious to the everyday wonder all around them. Daydreaming is a form of relaxing and letting go. Permit the mind to wander unfettered. Consider possibilities. Indulge in some positive imaginings. |
| PROMPT March 25th I need your help to fill the Challenge War Chest! In your entry today, write at least three prompts you’d like to see used in future rounds of the 30DBC. Then, choose one of your own (or one from someone else if you aren’t the first to post) to write your entry on. Prompter prompts? Hmmm.... How about: 1. What is Spring like in your neck of the woods? Does it exist? 2.If you were a giant, what things would/could you do? 3.What resonates as your best/favourite vacation? Okay, the self-initiated prompt I pull out of my itchy toque is the one about Spring. People report on the news that this elusive season has appeared in some areas. I'm not certain that there is a Spring where I choose to reside. We definitely experience two seasons, winter and road construction. When it's not blizzarding the roads are demanding their beauty treatments; a little asphalt dabbed here and a guard rail replaced there. Orange is meant to be a warning colour indicating armed hunters roaming about, but it also marks road work sites. Usually, as soon as the snow melts, stretches of highway support gazillions of those pointy orange and white-striped cones that resemble the cat in the hat's hat. So far, the newly-hatched pot holes have not been closed. Those odd-looking cones must still be hibernating. I do espy 'snirt' when I'm out and about. That's the ugly blend of snow and dirt. I will admit the snow banks have shrunk and they don't seem as ominous. Yes, okay, a few patches of scrawny brown/green stuff that might be sun-starved grass are pushing aside their smothering blankets of white. I've yet to notice active roofers, or gardeners. The locals still wear toques. Some still swathe themselves in woolen scarves. The vehicles still travel around on snow tires. Shovels are still propped next to doorways. If it were to warm up a degree or two, the insects would take that as an invitation. If there is a Spring, it exists for a micro-second between winter and summer. For a brief moment, we're neither too hot, or too cold. |
| March 24th PROMPT: Start your blog with these words: "Five years from now..." Five years from now will be five years into the future. This is a fair stretch of time. Five times 365 days. Five times 12 months. That's a lot of cookies and tea. That's a gazillion words I've rearranged and shaped into stories. Oh, there's bound to be zillions of conversations to remember and far more laughter to rejoice in. My youngest grandgiggle will be a veteran of school. She'll be chattering nonstop in both of our official languages, English and French. There may exist a younger sibling for her to boss around. My eldest grandgiggle will be knee deep in her career and loving it. Her younger sister will be a high school graduate struggling to stay positive about college. Both of them will have broken the family tradition of being young mothers. My hubby will be considering retirement. Strange, but he'll give up long haul trucking to traverse North America in a motorhome. Of course, I'll accompany him, but only after I seriously downsize. He will have made it clear that not all of my plants and my books may travel with us. The tables are turned, and one of my children will be storing my possessions in their basement. Perhaps in the off season, we'll park our behemoth and reside in someone's cellar. Five years from now, my journals, idea notebooks, and folders of my writing will be comfortably ensconced in their own private room. Oh, the pens I will have drained of ink by then. The COVID-19 will be a bitter memory. Every year further on from its pandemic, we breathe a little easier, we relax a wee bit more, and we continue to enjoy life. Five more precious years of memories sustain us. |
| March 23rd PROMPT: What is the best way to spend a rainy afternoon? My first instinctive response would be to stay home and hunker down with a good book or two. Ignore the rain. You cannot prevent it anyway. Why would you want to be soaking wet? Stay dry and comfortable reclined on a couch, or that special piece of furniture, the recliner. Lose yourself in a developing plot line. Search for the bad guy / woman. Curse their nefarious actions. Scale soaring mountains, or race through crowded city streets. Applaud the heroic efforts of the good guy / woman. Savour the described scenery. Puzzle over cryptic clues. Bake something, anything. May I recommend cookies. They are a bit more labour-intensive and the reward is in indulging. Tea pairs well with them. I suppose my ideal rainy day could be described as nesting. Stay put and practise domesticity. I have not always followed my own advice. One time, hubby and moi, son and daughter-in-law, youngest daughter, plus two grand giggles visited a zoo during a summer rainstorm. Let me emphasize the rainfall. We did not experience a sprinkle, but a down pour. Some may have been inclined to say a deluge, or a monsoon. At any rate, we were soaked and squishy. Our flip-flops squeaked. My son admonished his daughters to stay out of the puddles. This proved impossible. Puddles lurked everywhere. Walking created splashes. Water dripped down our faces. Our clothing clung to us. We were beyond damp. We chose not to hurry our tour. We meandered. We oohed and awed. Surprisingly, we did not battle crowds as we strolled and stared. The zoo inhabitants seemed to revel in the rain. Birds spread their feathers as if showering, all while squawking, whistling, trilling, and singing. Lemurs swung through branches playing tag. Hippos wallowed in the mud. Big cats rolled in the fresh mud. Deer and bison stomped and stretched. Perhaps they enjoyed the water and viewed it as a respite from the humidity. Have I mentioned the sounds of rain? It plips, plops, drips, splorks, drums, pit-a-pats, plunks, , splats, and more. It's sad to say, but I believe I'm past my puddle-stomping days. Those glory days when the whole idea was to test the depth of a puddle with your boots no longer exist. No more squelching muck for me. |
| PROMPT March 22nd Write a letter to your younger self. Tell them about something or someone they should be wary of as they move through life and about a specific event they should look forward to. Dear Me, Haha, this sounds like something I mumble over and over when something terrible has happened and I can't find the words to express myself. Oh , dear me... Ridiculously, I did this in the aftermath of a collision with a deer. Yes, a deer. Why this combination of words? They are so banal. Dear Younger Self, There that's better. Hmmm, who or what should I warn you about? Life has been great so far with highs and lows, but mostly highs. I'm not the worst for any of it. I'm not a complainer, or a 'regretter'. I cherish my relationships, the closeness, and the laughter. Always remember to laugh, humour is everywhere. Well, perhaps there is something that I ought to prepare you for, something that may have been better handled. Your knees are gonna fail you, give up, cause many accidents and injuries, and cause you no end of grief. Please be more proactive seeking treatments and solutions. Push for answers. Try the physiotherapy in your youth and stick with it. Campaign for timely medical intervention. Too many times, you've sat on the sidelines. Too many times, you've limited your activities. Believe me, constant pain is not a companion you seek. Now, the good news is that those troublesome knees didn't prevent you from becoming a mother, three times, and a grandmother, also three times. These births will be the highlights of your life. You will rediscover awe and wonder. These family members will bring so much love and joy into your existence. As a bonus, they will provide you with an unending supply of writing material. This is important! Never stop writing. You will discover stories all around you. I recommend people-watching for inspiration. Hugs, Sandy B. |
| PROMPT March 21st Write about good things that can come out of a bad situation. If you have an example from personal experience, please share! Some may argue that veggies are a bad thing. Others may dislike eggs. When you combine both of these food stuffs with a few extra ingredients you create a fantastic, delicious treat known as a cake. It's all about the perspective. Didn't someone once say you have to crack a few eggs to make an omelette? Sigh, there's been far too much on the news recently about the bad. COVID-19 has not always brought out the best in humanity. Today, I read a story about two seventeen-year old boys in England creating and distributing care packages for their neighbours who might not be in a position to go out shopping, or may not have extra disposable income to stock up on items. The boys show true altruistic ingenuity. They identified a need and they addressed it. Into each brown paper bag, they add tea, a roll of toilet paper, and a few treats. They demonstrate the good in this crisis. As they deliver the care packages they also offer to help in any way needed. In the area where I live, people have initiated an online support group where services may be proffered and coping tips shared. Many mothers of infants are coordinating the distribution of available formula, diapers, and sanitary wipes. Some keep up to date with the re-stocking of the stores and direct shoppers to where they may find more bread, milk, and more. Offers pour in to shop for seniors. Even recipes are shared. On Facebook there are myriad posts with tips for indoor activities for children. Some point to the learning and educational sites available. A few posters share funny memes and jokes to uplift our spirits. Humour is a great coping mechanism. Several Facebookers share posts thanking the frontline workers. Tributes to doctors, nurses, truckers, and retail workers keep up the flow of positivity. It all adds up to an out pouring of kindness and caring. |
| PROMPT March 20th Share a time when your mouth hung open in shock/awe/surprise/wonder etc. What was it that made you feel that way? It was my second year of university. I'd already made the mistake of queuing in the wrong line for registration. Apparently a marriage and a surname change meant I should've been in the line for the 'm's'. All the classes I'd requested were available and that made me happy. One course I'd enrolled in would feature creative writing and this excited me. The rest of my classes concentrated on scholarly English. Being free to create would be fun. Ya, right... For the first session of Creative Writing the professor seemed a bit distant, but hey, we were strangers. He spoke with the other students and avoided approaching me with a greeting. He stared at me a great deal and I just shrugged it off. I didn't know him, so I didn't feel as if we should've been familiar. For the second session, this professor took offense or disliked something I said. Perhaps I sensed he was treating the class as an English-as-a-second-language course and I asked about this. When I'd registered this had not been my understanding. Let me say I have always respected educators, I loved learning, and I earned top grades. He blew up! To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement. I had not been rude. We were adults and I anticipated civil , respectful behaviour. This did not end here. As if I was a misbehaving child in elementary school and summoned to the principal's office, I was requested to attend the office of the dean of English. Puzzled, I did as asked. Without preamble, the male official explained that he'd like me to drop this class. My mouth probably fell open. What? Did I not have the right to choose my classes? Had I not paid good money for those classes? And more importantly, why? The professor had complained immediately to this dean. He felt emotionally unprepared to see me and teach me everyday. My presence caused him undue stress. He was kidding, right? How could I have affected him, burrowed under his sensitive skin in just two brief sessions? The dean asked me to be reasonable.He pointed out that I was young. I should be flexible. Again, I felt confused. It was like pulling teeth, but finally he got to the so-called reason I irked his professor. Unbelievably, the prof claimed I resembled his recently ex-wife, and it had not been an amicable separation. And this was supposed to be my problem? Anyway, I thought this over and I realized that professor had some serious issues he was projecting onto me. Did I need that grief? Because the term had already begun, registration in alternate classes proved to be of slim pickings. I had to stitch together two part-time classes to replace the full credit one I'd been asked to leave. I also resented the fact that these two part-time classes were only offered in the evenings, and it would mean I'd have to return to the campus then after day classes. Ridiculous, no? |
| PROMPT March 19th COVID-19. It’s affecting all of us in one way or another. Never in our lifetimes have we seen something of this magnitude and severity. So today, check in with yourself and your fellow competitors - how are you? Where is your head at? What’s worrying you? Let’s gather our WDC community around us and hunker down together. Has everyone gone mad? The reactions from people re panic buying are ridiculous, inconceivable and ludicrous! This is beyond hoarding or stock-piling. Too many people are displaying a me-first attitude. We all need to wash our hands to stop the spread of this virus, but that is impossible if soap, hand sanitizers, disinfecting wipes, and cleaning supplies are not available for purchase because the few thought their needs super ceded anyone else's. And what is with this asinine need to stock up on toilet paper?? When did this commodity become the virus-fighting weapon of choice? Are those without adequate paper supplies expected to die off first? Why are shoppers coming to blows over toilet paper? I have not witnessed this personally. I don't believe I could just let this behaviour slide. What about other supplies? I'm well past the need for baby anythings, but how would I cope if I could not buy formula? Those with money to spare are purchasing far more than they need and those waiting for their week-to-week pay cheques cannot always react to a fresh supply of groceries in a store. There is no splurge or immediate advantage. Most people must budget and control their spending. We all have bills to pay. Price-gouging is a despicable practice. My niece, Kristen is currently self-isolating in Spain where she opted to live and work for two years. Like us, the store shelves are often bare. Fines are levied on people out and about for no reason. Schools and businesses are shuttered, so the only acceptable excuse to be out is for shopping, medical appointments, or walking your dog. Kristen reports that some people are renting dogs so they have a reason to go out and walk. Some people are resourceful, stupid, but looking for an angle. Those will most likely be the dictionary words of the year for 2020; self-isolation and social distancing. Not a great concept for extroverts to be sure. This COVID-19 has brought out the fear of the unknown in people. We cannot control illnesses. This virus is virulent and new. The worry and what-ifs cloud their judgment. My hubby is a long haul trucker with routes throughout North America. He enjoys the personal aspect of the job, meeting people and chatting. Now he's often greeted by masked personnel. Many restaurants are closed. Where is he to eat? Bathroom facilities are critical. He stopped at several truck stop stores before he found a package of wipes. They were baby wipes, but better than nothing.Many of those restrooms are closed. A few truck stops have closed their shower facilities. Their excuse: they require too much cleaning. Um, were they not cleaned before this outbreak? Truckers pay for these showers! Those still open have posted hand-lettered signs admonishing travellers not to steal the t.p. He reports smashed t.p. holders and missing t.p. His dispatcher warns him not to share pens with anyone. Warehouse staff greet him with a pair of gloves and a face mask which they ask him to wear while remaining in his truck. They ask that he attach the invoices to the rear of the trailer before he approaches a dock, so he exits his truck to do this and then returns to it. When the trailer is emptied or filled, the workers knock to indicate they are finished. He must drive away from the loading dock, exit his semi and retrieve the paperwork/invoices. How many people wore gloves handling that paperwork? Yesterday, he entered a facility and no one working there wore gloves or a mask. There is no consistent approach. In Quebec, the restaurants are still open to the public, but not here in Ontario. Anyway... to answer the prompt, I am healthy and so are my family and friends. We are weathering this. I appreciate the humour I see online. All we can do is continue to laugh. We should spread only kindness. I found this uplifting meme on Facebook: viruses are contagious. So is panic, fear, hysteria, calm, love, enthusiasm, kindness, joy. Choose wisely! |
PROMPT March 18th Does your communication style tend to be straightforward or subtle? Are you more likely to speak your mind or beat around the bush? Have you ever gotten into trouble because of your communication style? I think I'm a 'shoot-from-the-hip' kinda gal. Why waste time beating around the bush? I say what I need to say. Sure, there are occasions when I bite my tongue, but that's because I have an opinion that I know will only inflame a situation. It's not a life or death moment, or a time I must be correct. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, and I don't always have the desire to argue. Not everyone understands or appreciates sarcasm which is often subtle. Last Spring, my aunt phoned to ask a favour of me. Could my autistic cousin, an adult in his late forties with multiple other mental conditions, come and stay with me? This was exactly one week before my total knee replacement surgery. I was preparing for that and finishing things I couldn't do in the near future because I'd be elsewhere recovering. She knew of my surgery. She also knew her son did not always appreciate his mother making plans for him. Even consulting him was iffy. She wanted a break from him. My cousin is moody and sensitive. I told her I had no groceries stocked in my home. Why would I do that if I planned to be gone for weeks? I reminded her of my surgery. My knees were unstable and I did not venture too far from home. I was not prepared to be good company. I was in constant pain. How would I entertain her son? He never cooked for himself. He never took initiative for anything. In the past, I'd kept him busy with small construction jobs and repairs, but he required supervision. I did not have the energy to keep him from sitting in front of the television all the time. My aunt messaged me back. Just tell me, yes or no? I thought I'd spelled it out for her. Where had I agreed this was a mutually good idea? Perhaps I'd been too nice and subtle. This same cousin sometimes complained that I'm too loud and I laugh too much. I did not take offence, he is autistic, and this is true. He is blunt without knowing it. I'm told that he cannot appreciate feelings/emotions, yet he never fails to bring his up. He misunderstands situations and pouts, or raves, or whines. He changes his mind constantly. He does not acknowledge that anyone else has feelings. All of this, yet when he wants something, I'm his go-to person. Communication is not always straightforward. It can be awkward and messy. My cousin can and does go months refusing to speak with me over some perceived slight, or simply because he's focused elsewhere. When he reaches out, he expects me to carry on as if nothing happened, and I do. He has so much to deal with and all I can offer is some compassion and latitude. I can't fathom what he struggles with. |
| March 17th PROMPT: Is success a result of luck, or hard work? Neither? Both? Read this article and share your thoughts... jamesclear.com/luck-vs-hard-work I read this article and I followed the premise as it was presented. I agree with the logic. I never considered the circumstances of my birth as luck. Who my parents were, where I was born, the state of my physical health, my inherited genes, the family finances, all of these are described as luck. Yes, they were and are beyond my control. They helped to shape me. What I chose to do with my 'gifts' was my free will. I could expand upon them. I could exploit them. I could learn from them and strive to learn more. We all apply varying levels of effort to our endeavours. Luck still needs blood, sweat, and tears. Some of us respond to pressure and require a nudge. Others thrive with their own initiative. Perhaps, at times, we need a little of both. If we are truly blessed, we realize our strengths and work with them. We are not content to rest on our laurels. We are never satisfied. Pursuing my passions is success. Participating in life is success. Forging relationships is success. |
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