Clearing the Cave?

I’ve been trying to wish a dear friend Happy New year for a few weeks now. She has four kids, is run off her feet with her full time job. I am very lax at phone calls so it’s been difficult to contact her. I hate leaving messages when it’s just a casual call. Today we finally spoke; it felt like old home week. Everything changes, yet nothing changes. We are both fifty now, in mental pause together. No one fore warned us of the all the ramifications of the flow, peppered with haranguing horrible moans!

My brother has taken to asking friends in midst of marital difficulties, if they could handle their wives crabbiness hopped up a few notches, warning them of impending menopause. Apparently men do talk about our menopause. Of course he has no worries there, in his mid forties with a wife just over thirty. Rumor has it men he works with complain about their partially bitchy wives becoming menopausal monsters. Go figure. In the best part of my marriage I used to ask myself could I retire with this guy, the answer was always an emphatic NO. I stayed with him for years after that too. Silly me, what was I thinking! Now I hear my brother gage a woman’s worth on whether you could handle her personality through menopause.

I digress…my friend is fed up with everything. My very docile friend would never dare dismiss the most ignorant sots as they bored her with nonsense. Instead she sat quietly, smile on her face, tolerating every nuance of bullshit. Today, in the throws of menopause, she’s afraid of her frantic tirades. The submissive nature of the woman has aborted her body, I ask myself, is this natures way, to clear the cave? When a beautiful woman with a loving soul turns verbally toxic?

Every complaint she has is absolutely justified. Is it that she has been sitting on injustice for too many years? Finally the feelings have surfaced? Is it time for us to reclaim our souls? What could be nature’s possible use of this idiotic time, of odd sleeping patterns, out of control flow, intolerance, and verbal diatribes?

More arty than organized!

Here is my makeup drawer after last weeks cleaning rampage. I got rid of a huge bag of makeup, I don’t buy it, Pepper keeps shuffling her cast offs to me. I keep thinking I could use that huge bag pf makeup and nail polish for an art project….could I? Pfffff I doubt it….who knows? Lies all lies I tell myself. I need to get real!

Bear with me; I was forced to change my blog to the new version. I’m so glad I did, but I am still flailing around trying to find what suits me best. I only wish they had better fonts.


Its official, I received an dork's newsletter in my email, from a KingDork website in Victoria B.C. they had all my names on it, Sherrie, giggles, Happytiler, spelt perfectly, so I suspect someone has figured out I’m a dork. I find I’ve become more of a recluse than a dork lately. Although I do admit to being cooler in my youth, and more of a dork now. Probably recluse and dork go hand in hand, down the road of cyber heaven.

I just find myself wanting to sort my house and life out. Sometimes you need time alone to figure it all out. Artistic endeavors seem to take time alone too. Right now, happiness for me, is being alone. I chat with the kids on a daily basis, work on some writing, and have many projects I’d like to tackle. Including more purging, I just find car problems and annoyances as such, a huge pain in the ass.

My mother’s words still echo in my ear, “when you’re in your twenties and thirties you really want nice things, as you get older you want less, so you start to disperse of items.” When I look around my house, I wonder, WHERE THE F#%@ DID ALL THE STUFF COME FROM!


Don’t get me wrong, I love the ambience of beautiful things, but they are exhausting to maintain. I really want more simplicity than I have. I’m in the “getting rid of STUFF phase” while my almost twenty-one year old is bringing in more junk, okay stuff. At Christmas she saw dishes she wanted, so they are stored, guess where? My spare room! That girl has difficulty parting with anything, and she plans to live with me forever, so maybe one day she will break out the dishes. Today out of blue, she read me her list of goals, on her list is to disperse of two garbage bags of things. Phew……( Sherrie wipes brow) now we don’t have to have that talk! We’re on the same page, thank goodness!

So here I sit, procrastinating, computer loft in total disarray, awaiting my return of sorting out random papers. I despise any paper sorting, usually dedicate a few days here and there to sort bills into perfect little piles, shredder in hand. That's a separate job from this, I need one of those people to stand over me with a big stick and give me permission to throw things away I’ve had since the seventies. No I don’t plan on using them. As soon as I purge something old, the kids get a hankering for it. I’m no better because, I keep fooling myself into thinking I might need it for a project…. What’s a woman to do? I like things clean and tidy!

Sunday Scribblings " Chronicles Change"

Sunday Scribbling Chronicles

Change

Eight months ago Bryan was lured, by a friend, into a new job with the promise of a pleasant working environment, and higher wages. He relinquished his solid full time daily hours of seven to three shifts, as a prep cook, at a corporate restaurant, to a less secure position. Bryan stepped into the shoes of their main prep guy. It wasn’t long until he realized that the majority of the long term employees had bolted for new jobs at other restaurants down the road.

My intuition was in high gear, feeling this restaurant, serving the best prime rib in town for over twenty years, could be in dire straights. Sure enough my favorite restaurant where I always received a free birthday dinner was sold, and closed its doors January first. Even though Bryan suspected the demise, he loyally trudged through until the end.

This last month he has been working diligently on music, starting early in the morning until almost dinner, taking only a few breaks in between. More than he had at the restaurants, where he could be known to work a full eight hours with out so much as a bathroom break.

I pride myself in shopping locally to support small business. I despise the big superstore concept, where you need a pair of skates to locate the washroom in order to beat the call of nature. Large economy stores aren’t always convenient; there are too many distractions, temptations and line ups! Save Costco, where I take care of waste management before I go, cart along my entourage and stick to my list. I’ll admit I am a cherry picker, known to buy many things on sale. If I need a gallon of milk though, I don’t hesitate to pay a few cents more to shop local, rather than spend it on gas to drive up the road.

For seven years we have frequented our local video store. We prefer them, to the large conglomerate, with the big line-ups, we have everything, keep it as late as you want, don’t know your name attitude! At our local store, a six minute walk from our house, we’re known as Sherrie, Pepper, Bryan, or 606. They know our voices on the phone, they think about us when they’re viewing movies, knowing exactly the ones we’ll enjoy.

There is a lovely camaraderie, we have taken them baked cookies, given one of the kids some of our fresh pizza, they’d wave our rare, tardy returns. When we’ve called ahead to say we’d be late returning the movie, they offer to let us keep it a few hours later free of charge. The family owned business, is run by the parents, their kids and a few long time employees, who always greet us with affection. We’re very loyal patrons never having deviated from them, even when we know the corporate store has the movie we want. We wait until it’s available.

Friday night after picking some movies for the weekend, Pepper asked them blatantly if they were closing. Surprised at her out burst, they quickly shushed her. When she returned to the car I asked her why she thought that, she told me it was just intuition. I asked her to elaborate. Her intuition sparked because they were selling off all the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream at half price. Last week they fibbed and told her it was because ice cream doesn’t sell well in winter. Unfortunately her intuition didn’t deceive her; today they’re closing the store. We were absolutely shocked to hear of their termination, totally unaware until this Friday. The owners are boxing everything up to sell as a video store in a box. That’s all we’re privy to, covertly shared by a young employee we all adore. It’s truly a sad day; life is changing as we knew it. Two of our favorite family owned businesses are gone, what’s next?

Poetry Thursday " Cropped Content"

I love every aspect of words, the combination, compilation, connecting to converse with. Not only do I love the rhyme, reason, and resilience of poetry, I adore the passion, power and pontification of poetry. So for Poetry Thursday I’ve written a poem expressing my allure to poetry.

Cropped Content

Contained, condensed conversations
Reckoned revelations revealed
Orations organized opulently
Passionate, perspective pondered
Potent potential purified
Exercised excellence elevated
Dedicated Dialog diversified

Compelling correlations captivate
Overt omnipotent ovation
Notions navigate naturally
Trepid thoughts transpire
Exemplar expressions escalate
Nebulous negotiated naked
Tribulations translate tenaciously

The Art Express

Pepper found this sweet art site in the Newspaper, saved it, excited to show me. The Art Express is a very trendy idea, consisting of a renovated school bus that arrives at your home, loads in the partiers (age 3-10) who participate in an instructional art project, taking home their work, leaving all the mess behind. The bus seats twelve kids and is two hundred and fifty an hour. Personally I think it's a wonderful idea! Apparently there has been some inquiry about using it for girls night out, unfortunately it is child oriented with bench seats. So Michael Bray and his wife are toying with the idea of starting up a few more buses for women and teens.

Just over twenty dollars an hour per child is not unreasonable, but would definitely limit who could afford the luxury of this bus. No doubt it’s not much different than renting a blow up castle for the day. It’s an hour long session, I wonder just how many kids actually complete their project in that limited time. Yet on the other hand some kids have a shorter attention span. For the most part, I think it’s an innovative idea, fraught with all kinds of room to grow!

Lucky to be Alive!

Settled for a Jeep

For ten years before I had Pepper I drove a silver corvette. When she came along it was impossible to fit a stroller with baby garb in a sports car. I parked the Vet for quite sometime before I relented to sell it! Memories of youth were tied up with the car, now referred to as my disco car. I shake my head in wonder at what the heck the allure was way back then.

Oil Change

I settled on Cherokee jeep with a custom diesel engine, secretly longing for a sportier car. After three months, we had the standard check up! A young mechanic at the dealership forgot to return the plug after the oil change. The car seized five blocks down the road. We were furious to say the least, thankfully the dealers insurance covered it.

The Clutch

If I recall it took eight weeks to get the new eight thousand dollar custom diesel engine from Paris. I was floored when a year later they had to replace the clutch. I was a consciences driver, careful not to ride the clutch; it was later revealed complications from the replacement engine installation caused the clutch to wear unreasonably sooner than expected.

Frost

Two weeks after the clutch was repaired I left for work at six twenty on Saturday morning in late January 1987. It was a clear morning; frost layered the lawns, a deer posed on my neighbor’s acre property. I checked the brakes for black ice on the vacant road in front of the house, as I mired the beauty of the deer. The car halted with ease.

Black Ice

A moment later I continued on my trek to work, maneuvering the back roads to save time. I spotted flashing cars lights ten minutes into my drive. It was a fairly desolate street. Apprehension washed over me. I wondered who or what was up ahead. Before I could finish my thought, I went into an uncontrollable spin. Desperately trying to regain control, I drove against the black ice. The jeep landed in a deep ditch driver side down. Minutes later two long haired young men knocked on the door. In my shock, all I could think was oh great now I’m going to be raped. I shook off the silliness and opened the passenger side door. They pulled me out. My three quarter length winter coat, was covered in mud. In my gall I asked them to retrieve my purse. Realizing later just how nervy that was!

Emergency workers

People from a near by house took me in. Police and ambulance were called immediately. I had tiny abrasions on my hands from the shattered window, not a hair on my solidly sprayed head was out of place. I amused the medics with my witty antics, entertaining them, while they assessed my injuries, asking questions in search of brain trauma. They voiced their amazement that I wasn’t critically hurt or killed instantly.

The attending officer also spun out of control on the same road stopping centimeters away from landing on top of my jeep. The men shook their heads while exchanging perplexities about what a lucky woman I was. Having survived such an ordeal basically unscathed. Save a minor seat belt injury, a few tiny abrasions on my hands and face, which cleared up shortly after.

Officially Totaled

The car was totaled, the officers statement about road conditions insured that I was in a brand new car within a week. It wasn’t a diesel, or the color I wanted. So grateful to be alive, the type or color of the car became irrelevant.

Was that jeep a lemon? Or cursed? Or was it just one of those unfortunate life experiences I needed to endure?

Changed the position of the Baby seat

I was so grateful Pepper was not in the car that morning, as she would have been on a normal week day. From that day forward I placed her infant car seat in the middle of the back bench rather than in the passenger seat beside me!

Sunday Scribblings "True Fantasy"

Dan and I

Such a realist, I knew Sunday Scribbling prompt “Fantasy” would be trouble for me. Unfortunately it spawned too many redundant ideas; so I ended up with this.

About seven years ago I played a pivotal role in a haunted house. A woman having her throat slit several hundred times a night as onlookers sauntered through. It was a school fundraiser. One of the parents loaned his home for the event, preparation took months.
Production included many volunteers to decorate, act and man the crowd during the Halloween season. It was a blast!

Interviewed for a Vancouver news cast, I was asked how it felt to scream so many times in repetition, I told them it was extremely cathartic to scream all night after such an ugly divorce!

Richard, who loaned his home, is known for throwing manic parties of epic proportions. I missed his New Years Party this year with a live band. It’s not likely you ever forget any of his themed soirees. That Halloween turned out particularly exciting. Too bad the Slasher was married… to a woman with my same name!

True Fantasy

Jostled, and giggled,
during each scene.
A grope transpired,
a tickle, a scream.
Some of it acting,
much was not.
Crowd In progression,
mischief he sought.
He killed in succession,
within seconds she’d revive.
Arousal emerged,
she'd never been more alive

Need a Laugh?

These are a few doodles I created for a purse I want to make. I did them on newspaper, with acrylics, and sparkling h2O’s. I’m planning to modge podge the heart and eye to an unfinished wood purse.

Need a huge laugh??? If you don’t mind a little bathroom humor, based on a real life story, please check this out “How I ruined Thanks Giving.” It was very late at night when I fluked upon this crazy story. I was trying to suppress my laugher and tears not to wake anyone! I could visualize everything this guy was saying. I think it’s even funnier than the chili story.

Poetry Thursday " Crying Hearts"

Today is Poetry Thursday; I opted out of structuring a poem using someone else’s sentence. I was moved to write Crying Hearts instead!

Crying Hearts

His heart is crying,
in unison with hers,
Upon reflection,
admitted disconnection,
conceding,
it’s not time to be addressed.
It stays repressed,
concerns of today
unknown
controls tomorrow
their existence,
their routine.
With insistence
they both glom
to the frailty,
of the casualty.
Weary,
bleary eyes hide
behind cheery
Waiting
as life rearranges
mundane endeavors.
Together
their hearts cry,
alone

Last Years Birthday

Peppers twenty first Birthday is just around the corner! She’s already legal at nineteen here in Canada! Originally she’d planned to go visit Vegas for her twenty first, but that won’t be happening. There’s a big blitz to get passports before the end of January! That’s when it becomes mandatory to board any flight into the United States from Canada.Thousands are lining up all over Canada, even then there will be a six to nine week wait!

It got me to thinking about Peppers birthday last year. In the October of 2005 I was driving Pepper to work. We were singing Freakers Ball along with my Dr. Hook cd, when Pepper mentioned that if they ever play a concert she’d like to attend. I laughed flippantly, telling her that wasn’t likely because they were so old they were probably dead. They started the bar circuit around 1968, and gained notoriety in the seventies. Adamant that I be aware of her desires, she repeated that she wanted to go if they ever presented a concert here.

Two weeks had gone by since that conversation; I had just started dabbling with the online dating thing. I was talking online to this music buff, jesting about singing in the car to Dr.Hook, testing his sincerity. Nonchalantly he informed me that they were coming to our area. I didn’t believe him mainly because I’d experienced some men who were deceitful. He asked me to wait; quickly got all the information then emailed it to me. Sure enough Dr.hook was playing on Peppers birthday in the vicinity. I couldn’t believe it. So I called the venue for tickets. Bryan and I had wanted to surprise her, but she isn’t good with surprises, getting harsh anxiety at the mere suggestion of one. We had to tell her so she didn’t become physically ill. There were a few squeals of ecstasy when she discovered what we were planning for her Birthday Day.

The night before the concert we had a huge storm and power outage, fortunately the venue had power. Ray Sawyer forgot a quite a few of the lyrics, but the concerts was still pretty terrific and Pepper was quite forgiving at his lapse in memory. We tried to get her an autograph but they were long gone after the show. Probably needed to have a prune juice and get to bed.

To date Pepper's seen, Bob Dylan, and the Rolling Stones in concert, which I haven’t. I often wonder if my child is psychic, there are just too my instances, that are more than coincidences!

Questions

He had a DREAM!

Did it ever completely materialize?
Is anything ever really black or white?

Will there ever be true equality for all?

Sunday Scribblings " Idea"

Sunday Scribblings Idea

Four A.M.
The witching hour
Stirred from slumber
Ideas light,
Like the strike of a match
Burning hot,
Flickering on timber
Scrambling to find

pen or keys
Urgent race
Against the flame
Before thoughts
Lull, and become

Extinguished

Having read the book “A woman’s Worth” years ago, I learned it was common for women to be jarred awake around four in the morning. After some discussion with friends I found they would also jolt awake in middle of the night for no apparent reason. Now my daughter finds herself doing the same.

In past years it was known as a time for women to gather privately. What power there is when women gather to share ideas, and solve problems! It was such a threat, that in days of old, women were burned at the stake!

I can’t say I haven’t come up against a few men that found my power intimidating, and would rally at the idea of seeing me burned at the stake. I have also happened upon phenomenal men who hold woman with power and tenacity in the highest esteem.

All my life some of my most creative times were in the dead of night. Where the idea’s come flooding through, only to be forgotten the next morning!

I have learned to bounce up and get the ideas down immediately, or lose them forever!

I May Succumb

Bear with me as I blindly figure out how to change blogger. I had opted out of switching to beta because it seems more difficult to post a comment on the new Blogger. However I want to change up my template, so I may have to succumb….Darn!

Snow, and the Stanley Park Be-in

Random House on the walk













This post is for my friend Jane Poe who inquired whether I had any snow! Wednesday one foot of snow fell between the hours of 4:00am and 9:00 pm. The roads have become treacherous sheets of ice,with the most hazardous having been closed. So I haven’t ventured too far. Bryan managed to take these few pictures for me this morning around 8:45 am as he walked Pepper to the bus.

Our renowned Stanley Park, centered in Vancouver’s metropolis has been through a traumatic year, wind storms clear cutting thousands of trees. Such a part of Vancouver’s heritage, and my childhood, it saddens me to see the weather wreaking such havoc on such a magnificent land mark. There is a blitz to raise money to restore some of the many fallen trees.

When I was young I would make a weekly trek over town from North Vancouver to the park. It was a place of such amazement and beauty. With the now defunct zoo to meander,pools to visit a heritage train to ride, and forest as far as the eye could see. Many hours in youth were spent in that park. As a teen in the early seventies, I visited the festival style Be-in's during Easter, where Mounties would parade their horses through a mass of pot smoking teens, while the rock bands played on!

Poetry Thursday "Tie One On"

It is with bated breath that …….I’m coming out of the closet or letting the cat out of the bag…..I love Clichés ….I know, I know, it’s against the rules. Redundant and all the crap….but I can not tell a lie. I speak in Clichés and metaphors constantly. Plus, I like to break the rules; mainstream is just not my middle name. Is that an oxymoron or what? I 'd like to keep this aspect of myself, under the table. But once in a while I just have to buck the system, or I am not a happy camper!!!

For Poetry Thursday we were to explore Clichés, not put them in a poem. Well guess what? I was down to the wire, I decided to take the low road, do my own thing! My name may be mud, but I’m a smart Alec and it makes me happy as a clam to go against the grain! In the end I’m sure it will all be hunky dory! If you want to explore the links to these clichés, suit yourself, because I’m at the end of my rope on this one!


Tie one on

Sometimes I feel the weight of the world
I've heard a change is as good as a rest
So, once in a blue moon, I show my true colors
Let loose, tie one on; paint the town red
Bite the bullet and fly by the seat of my pants
Hanging on a wing and a prayer
Eventually I become three sheets to the wind
Hit the sack
The next day, the fog has lifted
And I can see as clear as a bell

Making a Difference

Suspiciously the google video has disappeared…..why would that be? I found another site, so the link is restored….Please visit to hear this woman’s plight! Tale of two Nazanins.

Nazanin Mahabad Fatehi
Nazanin Afshin-Jam

Is there a peaceful way to dissuade a barbaric attitude, exhibited by men who are determined to control women? This is a very important issue, as we sit waiting for the verdict of today’s second trial. I encourage you to view this important video about Nazanins plight!

Former Miss Canada Speaks out for Human Rights by keeping hope alive as she fights for minors on death row in Iran. Please read the story, about a young Iranian woman who stabbed and killed an attempted rapist in self defense and was sentenced to hang. A minor who did not have a fair trial, riddled with human rights violations.

Please visit the website Help Nazanin website.......Thank-you...

Today I am especially grateful to be a Canadian woman living in North America!

Cousins and The Quilt

The previous three months before my mom passed away in August of 1991, I took on the role of the stoic family contact. Daily I conferred with doctors, requisitioned medical facts to pass onto a family in denial. Mom had a secondary brain tumor, which caused a stroke, provoked by primary lung cancer. Sadly a result of chain smoking, since age thirty. She was foolish enough to believe the fifties myth, to maintain a small frame one needed the help of cigarettes.

I was a pillar of strength during those last months, keeping family and friends informed, spending countless hours at her bedside. Reading body language and attending to her needs. She was aphasic after the stroke, making communication difficult for family and friends. It was a complex demise, my brother only thirty; still a bachelor was in harsh denial. Finding it difficult to deal with the constant hospital visits, his stress manifested in a recurring eating disorder.Out of respect for him I won’t elaborate on, but will say I walked in on it. He did not fair well in those last three months. I became the matriarch of the family, contending with my mother’s sister, who was very frustrating with her naive perspective about mom’s prognosis. After mom’s death, I crashed. Completely exhausted from constant stress, daily long hours at the hospital, trying to maintain necessary responsibilities at my place and moms. Having had an ulcer bleed two weeks after her diagnoses, and a weakened immune system, I later learned, I became really ill. My brother mustered up strength to pick up the reigns where I had left off. We dealt with many loose ends together….but for the most part he did the bulk of the work. I managed to keep the guilt at bay, because I’d held it together so well before her passing.

Both really fair people we divided everything equally. I was well established, so I persuaded him to take more of the material possession, neither of us caring who got what.

One day while dispersing of moms things, I went through her large hinged sewing box that doubled as a bench. There were so many projects she had planned to do. I found the start of a pink quilt. I think it was meant to be twin size, consisting of material from my past. Clothing she’d made me as a child. I noticed a sheet and also a few patches resembling blouses she’d made for herself. Many of her household items went to charity, but I kept that patchwork piece of material. I had in mind that if my brother ever had children I would quilt it for them, a part of their grandmothers legacy. By all rights I should have kept it for Pepper, but I knew how devastated my brother would be, not having mom around for the birth of his children.

Two years later, at thirty two years old, my brother’s girlfriend had a baby. He was still grieving mom, and sad that she wasn’t around to see his first born. That’s when I remembered the quilt, bought some backing and sewed it up for my niece. She’s thirteen now and the quilt still sits in her room. My brother has kept moms memory alive, and my niece is a sentimental girl, so I know she really appreciates it! Both our girls are so much like our mom, carrying many of her good traits. My niece can do hair like nobodies business, Pepper is lacking there. Pepper is short like my mom, my niece isn’t. They both have more of a gambling spirit than we do, and are planning a Vegas trip in eight years…when my niece is twenty one! Not one of the better traits. They both have a bit of OCD, I don’t, my brother does. They are take charge girls, creative, artistic leader types, self motivated, loyal, brave, night hawks, just like mom.

Sunday Scribblings " Kisses"

It’s been too many years since I’ve had any passionate kisses, but it doesn’t mean you ever forget. Today’s Sunday scribblings prompt is kissing! At first I was worried about it; but it turned into many happy thoughts.

Lovers frolic in the forest,

Snow powdered trees
witness a passionate kiss

This was an anniversary card I received one year, I still love the picture.When we were dating, on his jaunt to see me, Peppers dad would steal one red rose from different gardens each day. Then when we had our first house he planted many rose bushes behind the fence, so others could steal them for their ladies.
Hair peeked out of his socks;
He was a big boy for ten,
Voluptuous bosoms protruded,
Disguising her eleven years
Every morning he waited in the lane
To walk her to school
He carried her books
They chatted like grownups
And giggled too
One day she tripped
Skinning her knee
He walked her home
To have it doctored
Then waited for her
They were late for school that day
Sometimes when they were alone
Their full lips met
Forming unforgettable kisses
Some called it puppy love
She had a fickle nature
The couple waned
Ten years later
They met again
He remembered her giggle
She remembered his kisses

To this day I have never forgotten the man, or his kisses!

Family Across Wires

This week took me forever to get some poetry Thursday together. When you read my contribution you may understand why. Today’s post is dedicated to Darlene’s family! Not much can be said, except all prayers are deeply needed and appreciated. A candle is lit for Marks healing. Family across Wires


My head is pounding; and my heart is right behind it
How can I read the plight of a desperate woman,
then walk off, continuing to lead my life unaffected?
Impossible .......unless my heart would be steal!
Soul touching souls, through words, through prose
Intimacy, connection with no verbal inflection
Yet we bond; intersect across the miles, through wires
Amazing really, the craze of pain and anxiety I feel
For a mother, a family, I have never met,
Only learned of her story a few short weeks ago,
Yet I cling, with fervor to her every word
Longing to hear a morsel of good news, something to fuel hope
Eyes visit her words, I inhale deeply, step into the shadow of her pain
Feel the sting of her apprehension, thinking things she dares not mention
Anxiety fills my core, stays in tow, refusing to let go
They’re on my mind, night and day, I try to divert, but my thoughts won’t stray
I walk through my routine motions, gripping tight to daily devotions
Tired body, mind won’t stop, although I try, sleep’s for naught,
Minds black canvas, her baby’s laying there, a grown up now, I see him scared
I check the time; hours go by, body weary, my mind shan’t cease, instead I cry
Time to rise, check my own, coddle her needs, my child on loan
My body tightens behind the screen, fearful of expressions that might be seen
A lump forms in my throat, in my tears her words float, burning vinegar down my face
Mentally clutching her to my breast; I feel her pain, her deep unrest
Her child, so vulnerable, in the hands of god, empathy is all I have to give
An ache with acidic inclination upon fresh wounds, rendering pain beyond imagining
It’s all too much for them to bear; as they sit and stare, waiting, and waiting, and waiting
for a minute manifestation of healing, or a slight reprieve from feeling,
A small diversion, or fever inversion, or a few minutes succumbed to slumber
My Heart is with them every second, and I pray and I pray and I pray, they’ll be okay

Love for Lisa

Special heartfelt thoughts of love go out to out glitter power sister Lisa, Oceandreamer, whose brother passed away New Years Eve morning, a few weeks after her mom. Very sad time of grief for this beautiful lady we all adore. She is kind beyond words, and it’s sad for us to know she is suffering with so much sorrow at this time. While many of us start the New Year with a clean canvas, Lisa is laden with deep sadness. May the angels embrace her with their wings of love.

Polar Bear Swim

For years my friend Laura (in the orange hair) does the annual Polar Bear swim, with her sister, cousin and a friend. This year was the 87th annual New Years day swim, in freezing cold water….brave souls that they are, it’s just not my thing. Most years they end up on the Local News, or in a Vancouver Paper. Brrrrr…..



My brother brought his kids over for an impromptu visit last night, we amalgamated our planned dinners, I added a Greek salad, put out all my Christmas baking, then we played cards. What a grand evening, talking and jesting with my thirteen year old niece, while Bryan and my Nephew played video games. I’m still in Christmas mode, delaying the dismantling of my Christmas decorations. It’s a rare feeling! By now I’m usually frustrated with the clutter, needing things cleared up. Instead, the spirit lingers, as I enjoy the lights, and solace of the room.

Today I am grateful that I had my brother over last night, with only half an hour notice.

Is it a Global warming aficionado?

Or someone getting rich on empties?

Today I was grateful to be able to drive Pepper to work in the torrential like rains. She usually takes the bus. I took the camera, in case I found something photo worthy. On my way home a lady pushing a shopping cart full of bottles, topped with a two wheel bike, crossed the path of my stopped car. It seemed surreal, in the down pour, out of no where, at nine in the morning. It was a weird moment that took me a bit to process, I decided to go back to get a picture. So I turned my car around, stopped nonchalantly on the side of the road.
Patiently waited for her to pass by. I may not have been discrete enough, instead of walking past so I could get the picture, she turned down a dead end road! This is the best I could do. She stopped in front of a house, abandoned her bottles on the road, then walked up the driveway. She either lived there, or walked brazenly up to their recycle bin to root for bottles. Again I turned my car around, but by the time I returned for a better picture, she had magically disappeared. I guess she was getting in on all the New Years eve residuals ….It’s really true, the early bird does get the worm……in this case the bottles….and what a cost too!

New Year of Dreams

Today I am grateful for the start of a New Year. After watching “The Secret” I realize the importance of dwelling more on what I want than what I don’t want. Holding those thoughts in my mind at all times, visualizing my life, as I dream it to be. I think for years I didn’t know exactly what I wanted. Today I am more focused on making things happen that are important to me…I’m not going to hold myself up to some unrealistic promises. Instead I am going to take baby steps to working towards my goals. Just like I did with blogging! Even though there are days when I have felt writers block, I look for inspiration, and realize it’s time to fill myself up again. Put gas in the tank so to speak. I am a pretty happy soul, and trudge through life’s uncertainties with faith and hope that things will ALWAYS get better. This New Year will be good, full of abundance, love, and creativity. That’s my wish for you and me!! One step at a time I will create…..all the things I want in my life! Here is to many bright days ahead! Thank you to the universe for all that I have to date!!!

Day one started with breakfast in bed, french toast and a huge cup of coffee....I am so blessed!