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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. |
BCOF Prompt November 23rd: Free write!! What shall I write about? Hmmm, think, think, thunk... I know. At the moment I'm visiting the two youngest grandgiggles. The youngest, Christina, is ten months old. She just laughs when I try coaching her to say Nanna. Apparently, my attempts at Christmas karaoke also cause her to giggle. At least she doesn't sob and cover her ears. Today, the four-year old, Alexandra informed me there is a list of bad words . Say it isn't so. I am not 'apposed' to say them...ever. I just learned that 'fine' is at the top of the list. Huh? Oh, sometimes it's used as a sarcastic, attitude-y word. Fine, I can skip that particular verbiage...if I must. Now, I've been warned repeatedly that 'stupid' is not a good or nice word. As it stands if I say it one more time Alexandra tells me she will put me in time out. Message received. I suppose the real shocker was the next no-no. Her tone of voice signified a wistfulness, a longing, a loss. "We don't say the 'fuck' word anymore." Excuse me? Since when did 'we' commonly utter that harsh word? This is the same girl who just yesterday explained that her toque and mitts were 'accessories'. Ah, I did wonder. There are three more days scheduled for this visit. My lessons will continue. |
BCOF November 22nd Prompt: Begin your blog entry "On a cold morning in late November..." On a cold morning in late November I shivered as I followed a set of tiny tracks etched in the fresh snow. My boot clad feet crunched and squeaked. I tightened the fleece scarf around my neck and snugged my hat to my head. Inside my woollen mitts my fingers flexed. Puffs of my expirations rose around me. Tears threatened to obscure my vision. Did I say it was cold? Freezing better described the howling wind whipping snow crystal shards into my cheeks.Brrr! Something had explored my backyard criss-crossing and zig-zagging. Trees were ringed in circles. A few patches of green peaked through in a few spots. As I stopped to inspect a flattened rose bush my feet were knocked out from under me and I dropped to the ground. Snuffling and snorting echoed before I recognized a distinct panting. George my neighbour's shih-tzu shook snowflakes from his red sweater and grinned. Only a puppy could appreciate this change of weather. |
Blogging Circle of Friends Day 3928: November 21, 2023 Prompt: “In November you begin to know how long the winter will be.” Martha Gellhorn Use this quote to inspire your blog entry. Oh, this is very true! I understand why winter is referred to as the long night. The 'new' darkness seems to be extra black and impenetrable. I already miss the longer hours of glorious daylight. Often I have no concept of time. It's only six p.m.? It feels like bedtime. On the grey sun-less days, and there are far too many of them, the local landscape appears bleak. Gone are the vibrant leaves of crimson, gold and orange. Maple and oak trees stand naked with exposed spindly arms thrashing in the cold winds. Even the nearby lake resembles a washed-out , pale quilt. Dressing for the outdoors is a guessing game. The weather is moody and confused. During one recent day everything was thrown at us. The sun beamed, a blizzard descended and obscured the horizon, torrential rain hammered the earth, only for it all to be repeated in an endless manic loop. It is the season though for Santa Claus Parades and a plethora of Christmas themed craft bazaars/ bake sales/ concerts and such. The message is clear: Christmas is coming, be prepared. There are so many talented, creative people! What do I take away from this? Ignore the weather, it is what it is. Find something to keep yourself busy and your mind occupied. Six months of winter is bearable if you do. There is only so much moaning and lamenting we can endure. November is the buffer month, but it is limited to thirty days. Thirty days to adjust and acclimate. |
Blogging Circle of Friends Day 3927: November 20, 2023 Prompt: Universal Children's Day Write something about children. I'm five and sometimes people say "oh dear" 'Cause names are not easy for me to hear. I see the 'custoadian' hop and sweep It's his job to smile and clean halls to keep. I wave and shout. "Hey, it's me Mister Brooms!" The nice man laughs and says, "I'm Mister Coombs." I do not know why, but it is so true My bus driver has not one name, but two. I say hello to Miss Arse or Miss Snow. Mom says she's sure it is Ms. Arsenault. |
BLOGGING CIRCLE OF FRIENDS PROMPT November 19th: Write about World Toilet Day, or Have a Bad Day Day, or National Camp Day. Is it too late to add indoor plumbing especially in the form of a toilet to World Gratitude Day? What a convenient and comfortable blessing a toilet is. Anyone who has stumbled to an outhouse in a fierce, slashing storm or who has braved the ominous shadows of a starless night appreciates the wondrous option of a commode.No one lingers in a drafty, oderous, spider sanctuary outhouse. I admit to a lifetime of camping adventures and far too many excursions to the 'one-holer' , non-flush toilet in a shed.Many of those moments coincided with Guiding forays with girls new to requiring relief in such crude quarters. For their night time trips the girls would venture forth with beaming flashlights swinging from their hands. I never knew if what often happened was due to misplacement, or hijinks, or an attempt to create some form of ambient lighting. Yep, errant flashlights somehow found their way down in the yawning abyss. The horrified gasps and giggles still echo in my memories. Cries of "ew" and "gross" swelled on the evening air. Not surprisingly, no one demanded the return immediate or otherwise of their 'lost' possessions. Some sacrifices should be considered permanent. Did I mention this particular camp snafu involved my youngest daughter? She'd bid her flashlight adieu and most likely wondered how long the batteries would last. One of my co-Guiders had other plans. Without announcing her intentions, Joanne decided to rescue Danielle's already forgotten, abandoned flashlight. She borrowed a wire clothes hanger and fashioned a hook from it. Demonstrating admirable resolve and a strong stomach ,Joanne stretched an arm into the gaping maw stabbing/spearing until she snared the glowing device. Mindful of sanitary considerations, the flashlight fisherwoman dropped her catch in a sealed plastic bag before she returned it to Danielle with a smile. My girl mumbled her reluctant thanks and dutifully returned home with it where it languished, still in its wrap, under the kitchen sink before we tossed it. I cannot imagine a flashlight, a bright yellow one, without recalling Joanne's stubbornness. Why am I now humming "this little light of mine I'm gonna let it shine?" |
BLOGGING CIRCLE OF FRIENDS November 18th, 2023 Prompt: On this day in 1928 Mickey and Minnie appeared in Steamboat Willie. What fun facts do you know about Mickey or Minnie? Or write a story about Mickey and Minnie. Have fun! I remember reading that Walt created his cartoon mouse and then sought his wife's approval. Wise man? Anyway, she did not like the original name for this creation. The spouse suggested the name Mickey instead of aka, almost known as, Mortimer. Sure, it's a memorable moniker and I don't recall ever meeting someone saddled with it, but really, Mortimer? That particular mouse has always been known as Mickey, not Mikey, not Melvin, not Mitchy, not Myron, not Monty, Mickey. I like to think of this pair of animated mice as M and M. They were the original and not a certain American rapper, Eminem. One humid day in the not too distant past, Mickey and Minnie sauntered through their Magic Kingdom at Disneyworld waving at the many tourists. Their never-faltering and welcoming grins were pasted on their familiar black and white faces. Not once did they dare blink. Not once did they deny an exuberant hug or a sticky kiss. Never did they stand in one spot for long. It's as if they intended to greet every person who crossed their path. Walk and wave. Walk and wave. The throng of perspiring Disney aficionados snapped thousands of photos with the royalty of cartoon mice. Squawking, drooling babies were thrust into their arms. Swirling dervishes laughing and avoiding the lunges of their parents dodged between and around the towering yet smiling figures. Not once did Mickey and Minnie attempt a protest. With his back turned Mickey failed to see the impending doom. Two boys punching and shoving each other barreled into Disney's iconic character. With a muffled yelp Mickey tumbled face-first into a bubbling fountain. He floundered. He splashed. The crowd gasped and cameras flashed. With one mighty heave Mickey struggled to his tottering feet and then the unthinkable happened. Mickey lost his head. It toppled at his quivering feet. The roars and cheers faded away. "That's not Mickey Mouse!" wailed a chorus of voices accompanied by pointing fingers. The imposter hung his head and muttered a most unMickey word, "Shit!" |
Blogging Circle of Friends DAY 3924 November 17, 2023 November 23rd is Thanksgiving Day here in the states, Thanksgiving in Canada I believe was October 9th. Write a story, poem, or memory that includes gratitude for something. I am grateful that I've always enjoyed a choice. There has never been any emotional blackmail associated with a holiday. If myself, or another family member does not or cannot celebrate together as a noisy mob that's okay. We respect and accept each other and a designated day is not necessary. We can jibber jabber and scarf food anytime, anywhere. I am grateful that I enjoy an abundance of choice food-wise. Never have I ever been forced or hungry enough to eat a cucumber. Uh-uh, isn't gonna happen. My family however will munch on cucumbers in my vicinity. Meh, if they must, so be it. I in turn love raw peppers, so, it's tit-for-tat. I realize people have the right to smother their turkey with cranberry sauce. I have the right to choose to conveniently forget to purchase this family abomination favourite. Oops. My Mom would insist upon baking the traditional British Christmas cake for every Christmas season. Bleck!! ( Or is it blech?) I do not like the fruit peel in it. I will pick it out and attempt to pass it off on someone else's plate. I do like the raisins, the cherries and the nuts, but that yucky fruit peel contaminates whatever it touches. Bless Mom for providing an alternative for me. She discovered she could bake a loaf with ju-jube candy substituted for that waxy, obnoxious fruit crap. Not only did it taste better it had a cheerier appearance with its bright reds, greens, oranges and yellows. I love her for that choice. Christmas pudding is another family food/tradition. That stuff rated its own ceremony. The lights would be dimmed or shut off entirely. The poor, unsuspecting pudding would be set ablaze. The darkness served as both a dramatic backdrop for the flames and a method to hide/disguise that atrocious excuse for a dessert. Who decided it should contain fruit peel? I maintain it was a smoking charred offering to the Christmas gods and it deserved to be incinerated. I had the choice to not taste it ever again. Oh, and yes for the record Canadian Thanksgiving occurred October 9th. I am grateful we do not choose to follow the American custom of a November Thanksgiving. I like the buffer that November provides between two big family holidays. |
DAY 3923 November 16, 2023 Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt: On this day in 1920 the 1st postage stamp meter was set in Stamford Conn. How much was the postage on the first postage stamp you ever used? Have you ever collected postage stamps? Are there any commemorative stamps that you remember you wished you had saved? Well, I fail this particular memory test. How much did a stamp cost when I first sent mail as a child? I dunno. I do know it was less expensive back then like so many other things. I also did not buy them then. My Mom did. Most of my letters were mailed to my Nanny, my first penpal. How she received them I'll never know. I addressed them simply with her title and the name of the village where she lived. Postal codes did not exist at that time, but I suppose the community had a unique name. I wonder if my Mom fiddled with my letters. Did she scribble a proper address across the envelope? She couldn't have intercepted all of my missives 'cause I walked most to our local post office myself. Hmmm... perhaps there wasn't another Nanny in Sundridge. No, I've never collected or coveted postage stamps. Some of them are works of art, but I consider them a piece of paper, a tiny fragment, that serves a purpose. They're like tickets or coupons which are now available in a paperless form. Having some sort of pre-paid ink stamp would be a good idea. Businesses use this, but not us unaffiliated folk. |
Day 3922: November 15, 2023 Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt: “After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations.” Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance Use this quote to inspire your blog entry. "Why is the dog sitting at the table?" "You called everyone for supper. He's hungry, too." "I meant my wee animals. Send him to the kitchen." "Mom! Carrie gave the dog some turkey." "It's some of mine anyway." "Mom! Chris is breathing on me!" "Chris go sit beside your father." "Why does the baby have mashed potatoes in her hair?" "Chris told her to wipe her hands." 'Wait, is Danielle chewing on a wing? She doesn't have any teeth." "She just took it. She wanted my fork, but I need it." "Is this the canned cranberry sauce? I don't like the chunky stuff Nan made. It has real cranberries, yuck!" "Yes, yes it is. See the lines from the can?" "Who made the gravy? Wait, is there gravy? It wasn't Mom was it?" "I only dropped some of the buns on the floor. Dilly Dog licked one." "Does anyone even like turnip?" "How many mouthfuls do I hafta eat? Can I give it to Dilly? Look, his mouth's waterin." "I'm stuffed, get it?" "Does this turkey have a name?" "I hafta jump and push the food into my legs. Grandma says that's where it goes into my 'holler' legs." "Mom! Danielle is eatin' my napkin." "Are you cryin' Mom? Happy tears, huh." |
BCOF November 14th Prompt: use the following words in today's blog: pugnacious, echoes, fragments, planet, time and poet. Jen squinted and stared at the online review. Had someone just referred to her as a pugnacious poet ? Really? Of all the English words at anyone's fingertips and those were the chosen pair? Jen permitted a tiny smile to grace her face. Okay, she wasn't above flattery. If a reviewer saw her as a poet who was she to disagree? She liked that description. Manipulator of words did not have the same ring to it. Pugnacious though? At first glance Jen thought of the squat dog. Was this a strange way to say that she panted, wheezed, snorted and waddled through her writing? Echoes of past criticism pinged around inside her head. Disjointed fragments swirled and swooped amongst her memories. Jen sighed and concentrated on her breathing. Everyone on this crazy planet could be sensitive, right? People, especially readers, were entitled to their opinions. Jen pecked at her keyboard in search of the meaning of pugnacious. Sitting at her desk anchored amongst co-workers she snuck a furtive glance around the room. Her mandated break did not permit much time for surfing. Okay, now she shook her head as she read the results. Pugnacious: eager or quick to argue or quarrel or fight. A pugnacious person could best be described as combative, aggressive. What? No way. This cannot be correct. Me argumentative and ready for a fight? As if. Absolutely absurd. What happened to the right to free speech? Who demanded she agree with everything and hide her opinions? With a loud snort Jen slammed her tablet with one waving hand. Several heads snapped up and unblinking eyes stared. Someone yelled, "Did you win?" Jen glared and straightened her shoulders. "What do you think?" she retorted. |