Quote of The Day

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Sunday Scribblings Regrets

Digital image by Happytiler

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Sunday Scribblings "Regrets"

Got any? Things you wish you'd done differently?
Things you wish you'd said or not said?
Things you want to be sure to do and say now
so that you don't end up with regrets?

"Regrets I’ve had a few"

Lyrics from ”My Way”

Not catching the weight

Before it escalated out of control

Feeling that youthful angst

to be loved

Chasing dead end dreams

Harboring intimate feelings for one,

While with another

Loving men too much in my youth

And too little now

Not marrying a man who dances

Staying married too long

To a grumpy man

Not having more kids

Not understanding my mother

Before I became wise

Giggling during funerals

and other uncomfortable moments

Being too blunt, too submissive, too undecided

Not finding the artist within much sooner

Breaking connections with certain friends

Wasting energy in the pursuit of being right

Being less physical,

Coveting things with no substance

Striving for perfection

Making petty judgments

Keeping and having too much stuff

with no sentiment of love

Not plucking my eyebrows sooner

Ever using a credit card!

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Three word Wednesday

Friday Jan23, 2009


I thought I might capture the last five days with three word Wednesday!

Day one

Ruthless taxman badgers

Zero balance staves off threats


Day two

Family Birthday Celebration

Console, caress the heart of a daughter

Whose mom died four days before Christmas

Smooth the jagged edge of another

Plagued with emotional fiscal conundrum

Day three

Dinner date with brother

Reminiscent, stimulating conversation

converges into a web of ponderous thought

Married with intermittent sleep, hot flashes,

early trek to the airport coffee in tow on Day four

followed by a ritual Denny’s breakfast with Son-in-law

the wee hours before dawn

errands bleed into sunrise

A short nap interrupted by feverish hormonal moment

Lovely lunch out with a friend, laughter,

Blissful chatter, more laughter,

Crispy winter sun beams on the day

Exhaustion beckons a third attempt at rem,

Three hours of slumber tick generously by,

awakened by an evening alarm

More errands, snow warnings, dinner, short conversation

Fourth attempt at sleep, hot flash alert, awakened to snow

Day five

Chores, a few conversations, prepare dinner, relax

Back to the airport Tuesday evening coffee in tow

Chatter, fall asleep on the couch, awaken …HOT AGAIN

Frustrated by a creative block and depleted energy

Succumb to rest…..

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Empathy Pangs

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Empathy Pangs

You’re not even my daughter

Yet I can hear those noxious thoughts

Bashing about in your brain

My head pounds in unison

Like the eternal drum

Of mother earth

Worry overcomes me

I have absorbed

Your pain into each pore

Of my body

Up until the wee hours

Scouring each inch

Of my fifty two year history

In search of a quick

Effective solution

There is none

You are near the cliff

Of my old life

The uncertainty

Rooms thick

with toxic air

of distrust


from your old life

A ruse of yourself

If there were an inkling

Would you have plunged?

Would you have continued

to sabotage impeccable virtue

And success to sustain another?

It’s done, but what will you do?

If I could help you

Not sure that I would

Knowing what I know now

Feeding the monster

Of codependence

Was my old vice

I’m done with that

I no longer stand as sturdy

Able to hold up another

With a wobbly knee
and dire need for peace

It’s me who needs a steady arm

Should I retire the tranquility

of avoiding strife

You'd be first in line to be rescued

Unfortunately you are alone

With this

Just you ….. god

And your therapist

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Sunday Scribblings Phantoms and Shadows

Sunday Scribblings Phantoms and shadows

I wonder what she recalls?

At eight years old I routinely got myself dressed, marched alone to the end of the block where I attended Church. There I met my best childhood pal Toni. Eight months younger, one grade below me we forged a sweet long term relationship. The tallest, most mature girls for our age we managed to giggle our way in and out of lots of trouble.

As little girls we attended Sunday school, pioneer girls and youth groups together. We sang beautiful duets, chased the boys, and developed close relationships with a couple of the church moms who taught Sunday school.

By eleven we’d both developed into buxom, mischievous young women addicted to roller skating and boys. At twelve we attended a horrible island church camp, where three fifteen year old heathen boys from home appeared, sneaking us prohibited junk food as a reprieve from our oatmeal with powdered milk and mushy peas staple. Yuck, I still remember the letters home, begging for mothers worst home cooked meal, once detested, yet a thousand times better than the garbage allotted by the church camp.

Both of Ukrainian descent, we loved to make perohy (perogies) together, from scratch! Still a favorite! We could be seen spending a whole afternoon pinching dough at our kitchen table. We slept at each others homes all summer long. Toni joined our yearly camping trip to the Okanagan; we shared secrets, fantasies, and many late nights laughing.

Her dad took us to a cabin at Pender Harbour where I fell in love with fishing and sunflower seeds. Most of the summer we slept on a queen sized mattress hauled onto our covered veranda. Stealing away in the middle of the night as often as we could to meet boys. Only to talk, dodging behind bushes on sight of any distant headlights! Occasionally snitching a few summer kisses from the favorite boy of the hour.

Looking for a quick buzz, and a pound of courage at thirteen we'd split a Mickey of vodka, chugging it without mix over a toilet at the Coffee house, a Friday night teen haunt where local bands played weekly. We crunched oodles of white, pink or green mints attempting to camouflage the smell of liquor while awaiting the eleven o’clock ride home from my dad. Acting sober became an art.

My only downfall was boys, I'd do anything to be in their company. Hard to beleive it's the last thing on my mind now! Slightly more roguish my friend Toni had no qualms about stealing candy from the local supermarket. I was the big chicken, making sure to be no where in sight of her thieving escapades. She often stole clothes from department stores too, offering to steal some for me too. Horrified, I declined, waiting outside by a bus stop. I never understood why she felt the need to pillage. She was always given more money than me, got better gifts at Christmas, had nicer clothes. Still she felt the need to take what she wanted. In retrospect I think there were big silences in the home, peppered with inaccurate accusations from parents sleeping in separate bedrooms.

At fourteen we became a little more competitive. More buxom than me, with longer legs the boys preferred her figure, still, with short legs, a tiny waist, the nickname buns; I won them over with my jovial personality and humor! A notorious flirt with the ability for intimate conversation I was always surprised at how much the boys liked me. My friend was more sarcastic. The contemptible sarcasm inherited from her judgmental father was the eventual demise of our friendship.

Toni stood up for me at my wedding for sentimental reasons; then I moved away and never saw her again. I read she was managing a hotel restaurant in Vancouver. I often wonder what happened to her, so I recently did a google search to find her dad had died; she was living on the same island her dad took us fishing, married later in life, she has two daughters with very unique names. Which didn’t surprise me, because at ten years old, insistent our kids would have exclusive names; I picked Paisley, and held to it until it was refuted by Peppers dad!

When Toni was young she was an exceptional writer, far superior to anything I could ever hope to pen. It was her birthday on Tuesday, I think of her every year around this time. She'd be fifty one now, I can’t help but wonder how she is, and if she has a blog?

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

A Change Forever

Sound the horns, bring out the champagne....It's a golden day!
that will live far beyond my life!
This is a resounding time where the world celebrates
with the United States of America, a Victory for CHANGE!

Fruition of Martin Luther Kings dream, on the steps of manifestation!
Tears come easy these days, thinking of the change
that will occur for children who once wandered aimlessly amidst the advantaged.
I am glued to each democratic word spoken, overwhelmed with happiness
for today the apron strings of racism can finally be severed !

Let the healing begin, with the hope repaired!

It won't be quick or easy fix! With an intelligent leader at the helm, compassion in the wind, there is much to look forward to!
All the best America, you've done yourself proud!

There is a difference

She was my best friend

When I was three,

I thought she had a really good tan,

But she didn’t

Her brother, a runner

Broke seven world records

Received two gold medals

He was different

But I didn’t notice

When I was five, we moved.

In the new house

Four framed prints

of ethnic children

Hung on the wall

behind the couch in the basement

No one else had pictures like ours

They were different

But I didn’t notice

When I was a teen

There was a lot of political unrest

People protesting

Riots on T.V,

Soon life was different

But I didn’t notice

I still sang along

To my dads Harry Belafonte,

and Nat King Cole records

instead of The Rolling Stones

and Black Sabath

I was different

Everyone noticed

I grew up

For a long while

I had Besse Pease Guttman art

In every room of my house

Then, one day

I woke up

I wanted to find art

In the image of my childhood friend

I searched and searched my city

for miles around

Still I found nothing

Except distortions,

and cartoons

So I settled for a few


Found in a department store

during Christmas

It made me so sad


Enduring images of others

None they could relate to

I continued my search

I walked by

three crumpled up Velvets

for five dollars each

At the flea market


I didn't notice

But my daughter did

They were different

no one wanted them

To me

equivalent to gold!

I cherish them


things are different

After today


Seeds of change will blossom

I WILL notice

Hopefully now

I will always

be able to easily find

Black angels

Read Running Uphill by Fil Fraser here

A documentary on a man who should have been alive today!

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Sunday Scribblings Pilgrimage

Saturdays, Sun behind the fog sparked thoughts of a metaphor. Threading it into the Sunday Scribblings " Pilgrimage" prompt seemed fitting!

Sun behind the fog

After death

Nothing much makes sense

It’s a fact of life

Unacceptable to the heart

Friends sent me to a psychic

Paid my way, a gift

For my thirty fifth

Ever the skeptic

I locked my armor of distrust

Cautiously she penetrated

A rusted latch

With her oil of wisdom

Opening a sleeve

To possibility

Setting me on a path

Of spirituality

Revealing truth

Obscure, yet accurate

Pointing me

In the direction of inquiry

Past the altitude of religion

Beyond the cloud of deception

Showing me the sun

Behind the fog

It would forever

Light my way

Through the darkest days

Energize me

In my weakest moments

Captivate me with

Ethereal synchronicities

Alter my world

Where the lens

Soiled with confusion


Elevating me




a foundation

of solace

and awareness!

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