%%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 November 17th Write your blog entry using onomatopoeia. AFTER SUPPER: Sigh, groan, moan, grunt, mumble, gurgle, belch... gasp, titter, giggle. chortle, guffaw... chatter, murmur,, cluck... swoosh, whoosh, splash, bloop, bubble, plop, kerplpop, swish, rattle, clang, clink, clunk, tinkle,, clatter, clank, jingle, click, ding, clank... squeak, screech, rattle, clink, thud.... shuffle, creak, sigh... A Nightly Ritual. EARLIER TODAY: A Giggle Of Granddaughters: whisper, murmur, hiss, hee haw / bray, cluck, cheep, chirp, buzz, purr, chuckle, titter, warble... WINTER IS HERE: growl, groan, moan, gripe, snipe,snip, snap, mutter, squawk, stomp, stamp, wail, sniffle... |
| PROMPT November 16th Only 66% of 18-24 year olds in the US are certain the Earth is round. Thoughts? Thoughts? What can I express about such a random statistic? Initially, I shrugged and thought to myself who cares. If it is indeed true that some young people choose to believe in something, anything other than the circular shape of Earth who am I to disapprove, or approve their choice? They are free to disagree. Their opinion doesn't matter to me. On the grand scale of the universe this is trivial. Am I to judge the apparent ignorance of a few misguided people? What percentage of these respondents are educated? Am I to assume that most completed basic schooling? Did they all carefully consider the question? Perhaps it's more likely that several of the 18 to 24-year olds did not even take the time to understand what was queried. There are illiterate people, functionally illiterate people amongst us. Perhaps English was a second language for some? Too many citizens do not listen, or fully comprehend. They nod, and mutter as if in agreement, but they are less than focused. Wait a minute. Just how many of this age group were actually approached with this concept? How many declined to answer? How could a small number of responses reflect all persons in that age group, or any group for that matter? This is such a broad statement. Maybe, just maybe 34% of these "young-uns" would like to explore this conclusion for themselves before they agree, or disagree. It could be that iin reality they realize they lack practical experience of this world. Could it be that 34% are like me and simply do not care? It might simply be that the Earth's shape does not directly impact them. They accept whatever it is. |
| PROMPT November 15th Have you ever had a lucid dream? What was it about? If you could control your dreams, what would you want to spend your dreams doing? Short answer? Yes, but only once. Typically, I toss and turn for hours in an attempt to fall asleep. When and if I do slumber it's brief. To say that I'm a light sleeper is an understatement. Noises and bodily aches awaken me frequently throughout the night. In amongst that there is no chance of dreaming. When I rise of a morning I have no residual memories of a dream. My Mother was a dreamer. She liked to share them as she puzzled their deeper message. Most of her visions could best be described as bizarre. Who could fathom their meaning? I still cannot discern what a sugar bowl chasing a tea cup heralds. When Mom lay in a hospital bed delirious with a raging infection that inevitably took her life, she suddenly sat upright, turned to stare at me, and mumbled, "Sandy, don't do it. don't shoot yourself." Ya, it was creepy. No one in our extended family owns a gun. I've never handled a weapon. Did she pass on a premonition? Then again, she did tend to ramble in the throes of that voracious fever. At one point, a brief lucid spell,. Mom confessed that she'd dreamt she and only one granddaughter had survived. When asked what she thought had happened to the rest of us, she had no clue. So, no, I do not dream like this. One dream many years ago stayed with me. I still remember it as an omen. My hubby-to-be competed at the international level as a pairs figure skater. He and his partner were scheduled to participate in a training seminar out-of-town. I dreamt that he'd been horribly injured. I clearly saw a puddle of his blood on an ice surface. Inexplicably, all of this materialized. While skating at full speed with his partner held over his head in a lift, my boyfriend's skate just stopped. With little time to react, he managed to drop the girl onto her feet. It was a rough, unplanned landing for her and she stumbled onto her knees. The momentum carried him forward and down, down onto the back of her exposed skate blade. The metal pierced his groin, and, yes, he left a puddle of his blood on the ice. It was later determined that a dime had semi-frozen into the ice. What are the odds that his skate would strike it? That's the only dream I recall. It's not as if there haven't been other accidents, but they never occurred after a warning. |
| PROMPT November 14th It's time for another prompt from the War Chest! Take a stab at this one: Share your first experience with love. No ... not like that. When I attended elementary school, I first felt the "symptoms" of love. Oh, my heart would pound and race. My breathing would accelerate. I felt antsy and unsettled. I couldn't imagine not being with my love. I experienced difficulty concentrating. Most of the time, I was preoccupied with thoughts of being with that love. Nothing else mattered. I hurried through homework and household chores everyday. I barely tolerated face time with my family. I had to free up time. I needed alone time with my obsession. My first love was reading. Yep, I enjoyed it so much, it consumed me. Nothing compared to savouring a new book. Always, at every possible opportunity, my nose was buried in a book. I felt compelled to finish each one as quickly as I could manage. Not only did I want to discover the ending, I wanted to get started on the next story. There has always been a plethora of reading material and a unequal amount of reading time. Oh, I heard all the names and labels. I was called a bookworm, a nerd, and anti-social. I did not care. Books travelled with me. They are quite portable, and they never complain. During impossibly long, confining car trips books kept me amused and dulled the endless miles. In tents on camping trips, books provided entertainment and a form of escape. After surgeries, recuperating in hospitals, books held the pain at bay. Books were faithful companions. My parents worried sometimes about my devotion to reading. At bedtime, they'd issue a lights out directive. Sure, a few flash lights may have been confiscated, but they could not turn off the street light outside and across the street from my bedroom window.. That provided more than enough illumination for me to appease my habit. My Mother fretted that my eyesight would be ruined, but to this day I do not require prescription/corrective eye glasses. Granted, I sacrificed sleep to finish reading a book, but I felt it wasn't harmful. Life eventually altered and/ or interfered with my reading plans. I substituted book immersion with physical people and activities. Eventually, I married and bore three children. They crimped my style. Children demand attention and rightfully so. Reading opportunities were severely limited. My first love never left me though. Once past the newborn stage, my offspring slept through the night, and I acquired a few blessed hours of me time. I returned to my habits of old, and I'd read during the wee hours. Having endured sleep deprivation I could function just fine. My first love and I were reunited. As they aged my rascals learned that all bets were off and they could wreak havoc unnoticed when Mom was reading. Id' be oblivious to their mischief if a book was in my hands. To this day, I cannot read to fall asleep. If I begin a book, I must finish it. Once I start I am committed. So, when I am especially weary, I forego perusing a book in bed. I've learned my lesson, sometimes I do require a good night's sleep. |
| PROMPT November 13th "If you do what you really want to do, you feel like you're playing." - Stan Lee (1922-2018). Stan Lee passed away yesterday, Monday November 12th. What is your opinion of superhero movies? We Were Stan's stories a part of your life? Super hero movies are simply entertainment. They don't rank as one of my favourites, but I have viewed them. I accompany my hubby to see them. He is the resident fan. Both of us grew up watching the Spiderman television series. I liked to make fun of the campy, obviously staged fight scenes. Punches never connected, foes fell before they were actually kicked, and the movements appeared choreographed. Belief was supposed to be suspended. Yes, of course a young man could combine DNA with a radioactive spider. Radioactivity was harmless and not at all life-threatening. It's a completely feasible possibility. Imagine snaring criminals and ne'er-do-wells in super-strong webbing that shoots from your wrists at will. Oh, and the ability to climb anything quite nimbly is a definite plus for a crime fighter, too. Way back in the era before computer graphics and animation, my life-partner-to-be invited me to the latest action movie, 'Spiderman'. This memorable date occurred in 1977. Oh, I accepted his invitation, but the "lame" movie did not entertain me. I thought it resembled the t.v. series. To me, it appeared corny. My companion on the other hand lapped it up. He became my entertainment and he didn't disappoint. Seated in his cushy theatre seat, Paul worked up a sweat. Every wild move Spiderman executed, he repeated.. He scaled tall buildings. He chased vehicles and miscreants. He threw punches. He wrestled. He pounced from heights . If the movie hero experienced a surprise attack, or reeled from an impressive blow, my rapt date reacted as if he were right in the thick of the turmoil. He recoiled. He ducked. He swerved. He panted and gasped. Oh, I enjoyed his total immersion immensely! He lived and breathed that Spiderman film. Fast forward to the here and now. My hubby still views Spiderman movies and reacts strongly as he did many years ago. Oh, the action seems bigger and brighter thanks to advancements with computer animated technology. Paul especially appreciates 3D effects. This enhances his involvement. Stan Lee created quite the super hero legacy. Now, my six-year old great nephew accompanies Spiderman as he "fights bad guys." He leaps from furniture and shoots imaginary webbing with his own sound effects, "pew, pew." His enthusiasm is contagious as he shouts, "Did you see that?" I haven't the heart to tell him that Spiderman, the original, is a senior citizen now. Conner is happy doing what he wants to do, emulating an action hero. Stan Lee understood this. |
| PROMPT November 12th "A ship is safe in harbor, but that is not what a ship was built for." - William H. Shedd. Reflect on this quote in any way you choose. *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* Okay, I just may be guilty of nit-picking here, but I object to the initial wording of this quote, "a ship is safe in harbor." Is it really? Things, terrible life-altering events occurred with ships in hatbours. { Canadian spelling ) They are a matter of historical record. On December 6, 1917, two vessels collided in Halifax Harbour wreaking horrendous devastation. The Norwegian SS Imo and the French SS Mont-Blanc struck each other at a slow rate of speed. A fire broke out on the French ship igniting its deadly cargo of explosives.. Approximately 2,000 people perished in the blast itself, or fires, or debris, or fallen buildings, or a resultant tsunami. A district of Halifax known as Richmond was especially hard hit.. On December 7, 1941 The Japanese attacked the American naval base Pearl Harbour. Lives and ships were obliterated. Where was the "safe harbour"? Now, I believe I understand the intent, the motivation of this quote. Ships are created to sail the seas. They travel and explore. People should also seek to broaden their horizons with travel and/or exploration. Seek out new opportunities. Sample new terrain, cultures, and activities. There can be growth and fulfillment in adventure. Sorry, I'm still thinking about the "safe" part of ocean cruising. Wasn't the Titanic touted to be the safest liner of its day? Passengers paid good money to sail the Atlantic in a one-of-a-kind vessel. Well, we all know what transpired April 15, 1912. The unsinkable met the unthinkable. Ah, travel is never completely without risks. Unfortunately, all modes of transportation endure their fair share of crashes. Planes, trains, or automobiles none of them are "safe". This realization does not prevent me from escaping my everyday once in a while. I undertake voyages along roadways and open skies. I've survived a vehicle crash, or two. I can't say the same re airplane excursions., not that a plane crash is on my bucket list. So far, my sailing has been in lake-friendly craft. No, wait, I have travelled aboard the ferries that run between British Columbia's mainland and Vancouver Island. No, that is not comparable to an ocean liner cruise. Maybe someday I will sail the Seven Seas. In the meantime, most of my flights of imagination will find me soaring from my comfy computer chair. Sure, there may not be catering, or pampering, but this particular harbour is home. |
| PROMPT November 11th Search for and read a recent news story from a country other than your own. Share any thoughts/opinions/commentary you have on the article. Well, I opted to read weird news. Too much coverage has been doom and gloom with mass shootings and accidents. I had no difficulty accessing strange stories. Yep, there's no shortage of the bizarre in this world . There's no accounting for the crazy. Pretty much everyone recognizes the designer name Yves Saint Laurent, correct? It's usually synonymous with haute couture which is a fancy French term for expensive designs. Um, I discovered something pricey all right. Even if I had unlimited spending potential I would not purchase this item. All the money in the world does not buy good taste. This originated from a renowned fashion house? Okay, I cannot reproduce a drum roll here, or flash drapery in a dramatic reveal, so here it is. YVS is selling penis jewellery. For a mere 215 pounds, or approximately $345, I could, if I felt so inclined, own a pair of golden brass penis earrings. As if....! Not to permit the dangle earrings to be worn alone, one could elect to order a matching pendant for 520 pounds. Genital geegaws! Why would anyone choose to bedeck themselves in such a manner? I have no idea if this piece of news is verifiable. I will state that if I should ever strut and sashay with dangling brass penises, I will be certifiable. |
| PROMPT November 10th Do you consider blogging a form of personal essay writing? How are the two the same and different? Today, spend some time researching how to write a personal essay and, if you choose, take a stab at writing one of your own! *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* Whoo what a night! Those darn weather forecasters were correct for once. Snow and ice returned with a vengeance zapping our hydro. It's just been restored. When this inevitably happens, I miss the convenience of running water the most. Washing my hands in bottled water is not the same as on demand hot water. But I digress, and let's be honest I vented. So, to answer to today's blog topic. I never realized, or considered it before, but yes, most of my blogs are personal essays. They are coloured and tainted by my prejudices, my opinions, my observations, my thoughts, my flights of fancy, my emotions, my experiences, my nuance, my wording, and my expression. How could they not be? If I have a hand in creating something, or in this case writing it, it will be personal. Of course, not all my writing is shaded by moi. the odd time I utilize my imagination a bit more to draw a character,or a scene that is unfamiliar to me. Huh, no, my style still reflects me.... My room mate, my significant other, my soul mate of forty years is home for the weekend. That's what we're allotted, weekends . If we're fortunate we spend two days together. During the week, hubby is on the road and we keep in touch via cell phone. Anywho, today is our date night.. For once, there are no family obligations, no other pressing plans. We intend to dine out and then view a movie. To do this, we must travel by car for about fifty minutes. I mention this because I would love to write a new personal essay, but the date awaits. As fate would permit, I happen to store personal essays in my portfolio. I shall direct my fellow bloggers to two in particular. One records a cherished camping trip with my eldest granddaughter, and the other recreates a Halloween date with hubby years ago.
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| PROMPT November 9th Did you know? *Magnify* The veins of a blue whale are so wide, a 3 year old child could swim through them? *Shock2* Spend your blogging time today thinking about size. Scale is important in writing - how do you use it? If you're up for it, try examining something extremely small and describing it as if it were the size of a car. Can you get your readers to guess what you're describing? I'm all sharp rough edges. Touching me can draw blood and burn sensitive tissue. My immense3 bulk and suffocating weight will not only stop traffic, but I suppose I could crush a vehicle. Perhaps heavy, earth-moving machinery would struggle mightily to move me. I am colourless, yet I reflect several shades of the rainbow. Some dislike me while others appreciate me. In my minute form, some describe me as shimmering, or sparkling. I'm light as a feather, and a single human breath can sail me away. The wind propels me. I swirl and spin. Alone I am harmless, but then again, I am never solitary.. My cohorts and I tend to cling together. We obliterate landscapes. WE obscure vision. En mass we have the power to stop traffic and bring travellers to their knees. Some swear we create treacherous driving conditions. Too many people complain about our presence. They grumble and gripe until we disappear. They resent dealing with us. Supposedly, we complicate things. Granted we may be heavy. Special clothing must be worn when we are about. Not all people disapprove of us. These hearty souls choose to celebrate our existence and they welcome us. They see our unique beauty. They opt to play with us and in us. We permit them to reshape us, to mould us, to groom us. If we were the considerable size of a car, we'd be far less malleable. Probably we'd present a storage problem. Being so immense, I fear far less tolerance and acceptance. In Germany, we are known as "schneeflocke". Regrettably, this sounds like a sneeze. Make no mistake, we are nothing to sneeze at. |
| PROMPT November 8th You've made it a full week! Congratulations! Today I want to know, what do YOU think makes a good blogger? What are characteristics that make you want to read someone else's blog? If you were judging your own blogging ability, how would you rate yourself? What aspects of blogging are most important to you? *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* *NoteB* *NoteO* So, I'm being asked what makes a good blogger? Um, er, I really don't know. I mean I'm no expert. I dally. I contemplate a subject, or a prompt as I pursue other chores, hobbies, and amusements during my day. I suppose some would describe this as "letting it stew", or letting it "marinate". Granted, it's not always a priority. Sometimes, it becomes just one more goal on my daily to-do list. In other words, I'm not consistently eager to compose a blog. Of course, some topics spur me on and ignite my efforts. They fan my flames of curiosity and creativity. Okay, I've been attempting to stall with a few words , a temporary barricade as I ponder. Already I've employed that old stall standard of repeating the question .Hmmm…..What do I think? Well, I believe just showing up and making an effort constitutes a good blogger. Writing is a process. It takes effort above all else. Write something, take a stab at it. All efforts are worthwhile. There are no wrong tangents. Every contribution is valid. I like to read variety. I'm continually surprised and pleased by the differing viewpoints, the unique voices I find here. I'm drawn to humour and the slices-of-life vignettes. We all have our experiences, and our modes of expression.. Rate my blogging ability? Ah, that's difficult. I participate. I string a sequence of words together. I refuse to permit a prompt to defeat me. Whew, only one more question to answer. I'm powering through today's prompt. The finish line looms so tantalizingly near. Should I repeat the request again? Well, I suppose the daily deadline appeals to me. If I choose to dally, make a commitment, engage with other writers, I must actually sit down and write. The ol' grey cells must function. I must put aside other concerns and distractions to concentrate on writing. This is the "use it or lose it" philosophy. Spontaneity, I like the spontaneity, too. Each blog prompt is unexpected. Never have I imagined myself wandering a labyrinth with a cookie, a paper clip, and a toy truck. Okay, maybe I'd be strolling with a cookie, in fact that is somewhat more likely than my finding myself trapped in a maze. Oh, I seem to enjoy challenges also. There, this blog post is finished. Perhaps, I strayed and rambled, but in the end I blogged. |
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