Monday, 25 September 2017

Poetry Monday

Poetry Monday was started by Diane of On The Alberta Montana Border (you can find her in my sidebar).  Diane thought Mondays could use a little tweaking.  Each week she provides a prompt.  You don't need to use it but its there, just in case don't you know.  Procrastinating Donkey (also in my side bar) participates as do I.  There is always room for more.  Why not join in...write, read,'s all good.

This weeks prompt's...underwear.

The topic today
is underwear.
I can't think of anything
I'm willing to share
about either outer
or under
except that I wouldn't like
to be going bare.
I don't really care
what you wear
I just don't want to see
your underwear.
So pull your pants up
little man.

Sunday, 24 September 2017

Canada Welcomes the Invictus Games

We watched the opening ceremonies last night....watched the parade of proud and wounded warriors as they marched into the stadium, heads held high, flags waving.   We listened to Prince Harry as he welcomed them.   We listened to these men and women as they talked about what this event meant to them.  It didn't matter whether they were men, women,  LGBTQ or what is euphemistically referred to as 'straight', Canadian, British, Australian, from Denmark, Afghanistan.  It didn't matter if they were Jewish or Christian, Muslim or any other religion.  They were/are our heroes.
If you didn't know, the name of the games is taken from a poem written by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me, 
      Black as the pit from pole to pole, 
I thank whatever gods may be 
      For my unconquerable soul. 

In the fell clutch of circumstance 
      I have not winced nor cried aloud. 
Under the bludgeonings of chance 
      My head is bloody, but unbowed. 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears 
      Looms but the Horror of the shade, 
And yet the menace of the years 
      Finds and shall find me unafraid. 

It matters not how strait the gate, 
      How charged with punishments the scroll, 
I am the master of my fate, 
      I am the captain of my soul. 


I have been known to be confused by simple things.  Case in point.  Our little twice weekly free newspaper prints the weeks deaths on the "Life" page.  On the Life page you find births, birthdays, marriages, anniversaries , graduations and death.  When I questioned this I was told that death is a part of life.  Well...vegetables, car accidents, weather and war are also part of life but you don't find them on the "Life" page.  The common cold, store closings and movies are part of life as well but again..... Why not just call the paper "Life" and sprinkle little bits and pieces of things all through the paper.  Death is death.  It always used to be found under Deaths or Obituaries.  When did Death become Life?  See what I mean.  I'm easily confused.  

Saturday, 23 September 2017

Saturday's Snort

What did the traffic light say to the car?

(don't look, I'm going to change)

Friday, 22 September 2017

Confession Time

I've been married for forty three years and I'm here to say, I'm TIRED of it.  Oh, not the marriage part.  I'm tired of 43 years of meal planning and preparation.  I still like to eat though so what's a gal to do?
I admit we eat out once in  a while, like maybe three times a week, at least.  So why is my grocery bill so high?  I don't get it.
I still wake up in the night and find myself 'stewing' over what to prepare for lunch and supper the next day.  I'm losing precious sleep over this.  I'm in a 'jam' or a 'pickle' you might say.  Is it just me or is 43 years long enough to have to think about what to cook?

Thursday, 21 September 2017

Who Said That?

Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.
Don't ruin today by worrying about tomorrow.  You only get one 'today'. mom..............................

Wednesday, 20 September 2017

Using Wednesday`s Words

Words for Wednesday is a weekly writing prompt designed to get our creative juices flowing.  The prompt can be words, phrases, pictures, music....and what we take from it is up to us.  You can use the prompt or free style, write on any day of the week.  There are no rules and that is the very best part.
This month Granny Annie from Fools Rush In (you can find her in my side bar) is providing the prompts.
This week the words are:
edacious, crucible, gauche, melee, inhere, fester
bona fides, schaden freude, ehthonic, regimen, manumit and splenetic
If you are thinking of joining in and the words are giving you chills...remember it is not necessary to use the actual words and the words are not always this difficult.

Here goes:

As Ally described to Grace the mess that was her garden a few short days ago  Grace closed her eyes and was able to see in visions what had wreaked such havoc.
"It was a splenetic, ehthonic demon.  Given their inherent edacious eating habits it's a wonder anything was left at all in my lovely garden of herbs, cures and potion material.
We can't let this evil fester above ground." she said firmly.  "With a strict regimen of spells and a regular cleansing of garden, yard and house we should experience manumit from this demon.  It will give me schaden freude to cook its evil goose."
"We'll step into this evil melee Estelle but take care not to be gauche about this demons capabilities.  Fire up the crucible dear.  I'll go get grannies grimoire.  This emergency takes precedence over anything else we may have on our plates."
Estelle laughed with pure joy.  "My first look at a bona fide witches' grimoire.  I'm so excited."

Tuesday, 19 September 2017

Fun With Words

Jerry amalgam of jury rigged and jerry built.  Constructed in a crude or improvised manner.  First noted in use in 1959.   ie...He jerry rigged the motor so we could get back to shore. trouble, broken, intoxicated and my favourite...taken advantage of.

You just gotta love Davey and Goliath.

Monday, 18 September 2017

Poetry Monday

Poetry Monday comes to us via Diane of On The Alberta Montana Border (you can find her in my sidebar).  Diane realised Mondays needed a little jazzing up..hence, Poetry Monday.  Procrastinating Donkey agreed as did I.  We can use some more participants.  Why not join in?  Diane provides a prompt but it’s just there in case you haven’t had a visit from your muse.  This week the prompt is ‘working’. 

“How nice for you,”
my daughter said,
“to be retired
and lay abed
while all around you
folks are working.
Let it be said,
duty, you’re shirking.”
I’d vacuumed and dusted
shopped and cooked.
Hats the hubs lost
I’d found and hooked. 
Baby sat the grands
and found myself
with no free time on my hands
to do book work or learn a new language.
Even my blog friends
for lack of attention, languished.
“My dear, I worked
for 30 years
at jobs just tolerated,
boring and drear.
Now I’m entitled
to sit and rest.
That is, after your dads shirt
I’ve steamed and pressed.
You think my duty
I have shirked?
Frankly, I don’t know how

I ever found time to work.”

Sunday, 17 September 2017


We had coffee at Williams this morning.

I saw a man
while out today
who looked like one
who went away.
So far away
So far away
I thought of that dear man today.
He's gone you know,
he won't be back
and in my life
I feel the lack.

In memory of a good friend and neighbour, Fraser Thatcher.  Well and truly missed.

Saturday, 16 September 2017

Friday, 15 September 2017

Confession Time

The world has a perception of us.  We are assigned a name at birth and we learn early what it is we are supposed to be.  And so, we develop; male, female, daughter, son, parent, spouse, friend, neighbour, co-worker, employee and on and on and on we go.
A few of us make an attempt to be who we really  are but most of us, I think, keep it to ourselves or share it with a select few we feel we can trust with the truth.  Perhaps we are not meant to share the truth.
I am not what is visible to the human eye.  I am two...the public me made of flesh and bone and the real me, older than the universe and younger than tomorrow.  I am made of moonbeams and starlight, inhabiting this flesh and blood shell just long enough to learn my lessons and move on to the next stage...the next level of the game.  I believe we all fall into that category.  I am a dreamer, a poet, a hermit, I am selfish and self centred.  I long to touch the icy froth of the clouds and to tread in the dust of the red planet.  For now I live in this body and I have trained it to do what is expected.
Who are you when you are not being who you are expected to be?

Thursday, 14 September 2017

Who Said It?

My ideal housework is to sweep a room with a glance.
..............................unknown.............................but I thoroughly agree

Wednesday, 13 September 2017

Using Wednesday's Words

Words for Wednesday is a weekly writing prompt designed to get our creative juices flowing.  This week Granny Annie of 'Fools Rush In' (you can find her in my side bar) is providing the words.  
This is a fun can use some or all or none of the words, you can write on Wednesday or any other day, skip a week....whatever you like.  Why not join in?
This weeks words are:
onerous, meme, steadfast, yawp, copacetic, savant
akimbo, wreak, haphazard, advise, tare and vindicate.
Truly a great selection.

here goes:

Arms akimbo Ally stood and surveyed the wreckage that was once a pristine garden.
The rows, now in a haphazard straggling line and plagued by tares, were a sad sight.
Who or what could wreak such havoc in one short week she wondered.
"I would be vindicated if I were to string the culprit up.  They are well advised to steer clear now that I've discovered this mess."
Faced with the onerous task of clearing up   Ally let out a loud yawp as she stepped on a prickly thistle.  "You would need to be a plant savant in order to sort all these seedlings back into their correct rows." she snarled.
Still, after half a day of steadfast work the garden once again looked copacetic and she was satisfied at last.
Thank goodness.   Grace and her cousin Estelle would be home soon.

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

It's Official

The signal tree (across the road and two down) on our street is now alight with the beginnings of autumn colour.   Can the others be far behind.  I have seen trees 'turning' on other streets but the 'signal tree' on our street has been a little later in getting started.  The calendar says it's still summer but the trees know best.

Fun With Words

You know I'm always looking out for weird sayings or words.

attic salt........NOT something you put down for dust.  No, No....  attic salt is a refined, incisive wit.  What?

barn burner.....NOT a fire bug.  A barn burner is an exciting or dramatic event.   I thought a burning barn WAS an exciting dramatic event.

bobsy-die   A great deal of fuss or trouble.
Where DO people come up with these?

and your long and useless word for the day?
ampihibology....a phrase or sentence that is grammatically ambiguous
ie...She sees more of her children than her husband.

Monday, 11 September 2017

Poetry Monday

Poetry Monday is brought to us by Diane of On The Alberta Montana Border (you can find her in my sidebar)  Diane thought Monday could use a little zing.  Each week she offers us a theme.  You can use it or not.  It's just there to help you get started if you need a little assistance.  Why not join in and write, read, critique.... we love company.

This weeks theme is NATURE

A thin cold light,
a ragged sky,
with geese and raptors
flying high. 
Trees resplendent in autumn dress
make fireworks in the sky
as Mother Nature celebrates
another season gone by.
The seasons come
the seasons go
and soon the cold and wild winds blow
and bring us
darkness, ice and snow
as bundled up
to work we'll go
but always in our hearts will glow
the promise that is spring.

Sunday, 10 September 2017

Standing The Test of Time

I was doing a little tidying and reorganising when I stopped for a moment to contemplate a basket I was packing.  You know, the oldest known basket fragments have been carbon dated to between ten and twelve thousand years old?  More than likely baskets were in use long before that but being organic  they deteriorated before we could get our 21st century, carbon dating hands on them.  
Baskets were the first containers long before Rubbermaid came along.  They came in natural, dyed, patterned, large, small, decorative and utilitarian, square, round and oval.  Many things could be turned into the useful basket.  Such things as grasses, reeds, strips of bark, willow wands and many other substances I haven't  thought of.  They were woven loosely to allow air to circulate around the contents or tightly enough to hold water.  They were constructed firmly enough to hold a child on a parents back.
The thing that is interesting to me is that the basket remains a useful and decorative item to this present day.  There is something about a basket that attracts us.  Possibly our 'cave man' genes kicking in telling us this is something we need to have.  I think you would be hard pressed to find a home that didn't have some form of at least one basket on example of human ingenuity that has stood and continues to stand the test of time.

Saturday, 9 September 2017

Saturday's Snort

Police officer talks to a driver: Your tail light is broken, your tires must be exchanged and your bumper hangs halfway down. That will be 300 dollars.

Driver: Alright, go ahead. They want twice as much as that at the garage.

Friday, 8 September 2017

Confession Time

I hope this doesn't offend all those lovely folk who post photos of spiders and lizards, moths and praying mantis, beetles and other such oddities.  It's obvious you see the beauty in such critters.....what do I see in them?  A whole lot of ick, that's what.  When I see photos of bugs and slimy stuff I just pass right on by.  Shudder.  Shiver.  Yuck.  
Oh I certainly appreciate the fact that bugs have a place in the general plan for the planet.  We need our pollinators for example.  Bugs are welcome to have their space as long as it doesn't invade mine.  
How about you?  Anything to confess this week?

Thursday, 7 September 2017

Wednesday, 6 September 2017

Using Wednesday's Words

Words for Wednesday is a weekly writing prompt designed to get our creative juices flowing.  This week and for the rest of the month the words will be found at Fools Rush In (you can find Granny Annie in my side bar under that title).  Granny's got a mean streak as is evidenced by her choice of words this week.  
flat-hat, inalienable, construe, dithyramb, sericeous, fidelity
poltroon, ludic, turpitude, bosky, assay and repudiate goes

"I'm here to see Miss Estelle Star." Grace announced to the receptionist.
"Room 34, 3rd floor, B wing." the receptionist mumbled around her gum.
Grace surveyed the young woman critically.
"Do you not need to advise your client of a guest coming up to see her?"
"Oh, she knows."
"And how is that?"
"She just does."
Grace nodded and began the long trudge to B-3-34.  The receptionist had been weighed in the assayers scales and been found lacking.
As she raised her hand to knock on the door of number 34 a gusty voice Grace recognized said, "Come in Grace."
Grace swallowed hard and entered.
A young woman sat with her back to the room gazing out a barred window. Grace moved to her right side and looked down.  A beam of sunlight illuminated the right side of the young womans face revealing a translucent beauty that made Grace gasp in appreciation.
"Am I to construe from your positioning that you have no intention of turning around to face me?" Grace asked.
"I believe it is my inalienable right to obstruct your view of my disfigurement." came the gusty reply.
"I can't repudiate that," Grace said, "but you know, I'm not an utter poltroon.  I can handle it."
Grace gazed out the window at the view that so transfixed the young woman.  The amethyst spider swung gently in its web in the summer breeze.  Able to take a closer look now at the beautiful creature Grace noted its amazing size and sericeous body and legs.
"She's my only friend in the entire world." the gusty voice trembled a little.  "Her fidelity to me is unquestionable."
"I would like you to feel comfortable enough that you could face me." Grace said gently,
"But, I understand your reticence.  How did your injuries  happen if you don't mind my asking?"
"It was the turpitude of one man, my father, that brought this misery to me.  He loved to fly but he was reckless.  Against my mothers wishes he took us both up; me an infant in my mothers arms; and proceeded to do aerial maneouvers.  I can only imagine my mothers fear.  Eventually he did a flat-hat over a bosky area not far from the old Devereaux house, lost control, and crashed.  Neither of them survived.  I was left badly burned and permanently disfigured."
Estelle stood slowly using a cane to stabilize herself and slowly turned to face Grace.  Grace met her eyes without a quiver.  She merely smiled and said, "Thank you dear.  That took a great deal of courage."
"Now, Estelle.  I'm sure you are aware of the situation regarding the Deveroux property.  We are joint owners of an acreage valued at slightly over ten million dollars.  What do you want to do with it?"
"Sell it and donate my share to a childrens burn unit here in town." came the prompt reply.  "I've already penned a most dithyrambic letter to the board advising them of my intentions."
"Wonderful."  Grace responded.  "You may also let them know that my share will also be donated.  I have no need for the money."
"Yes," the gusty voice proclaimed, "I know.  I already mentioned it in my letter."  Half of her face smiled at Grace.
There was no surprise in Grace's expression.  After all, they shared the same blood line.  Grace's grandmother was Estelle's great aunt.  It was to be expected, after all.
"You know dear, we have a lot in common.  I live in a tiny house in the woods not far from the Deveroux house.  I stay there in semi seclusion because I'm 'different' and people are nervous of me.  You live in this facility locked away for the same reasons.  Would you care to come and live with me?"
The amethyst spiders ludicrous behaviour caught the young womans eye and she watched it gamble and cavort as only a giant hairy spider can.  "Can my friend come too?" she asked.  But then, she knew the answer.

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

One Day, One Room many of you attended a one room school?  Hands up please.  I said hands...oh...nobody?  Good grief, I just slipped over the edge from vintage to antique.
How well I remember that first day.  Girls and boys entrances, cloakrooms, chemical toilets, rows of desk ranging from miniature to adult sized, high windows, chalkboards and the teachers desk up front.  There were musty dusty bookshelves (which were to become my best friends) and a wood stove (yes, you read that correctly).  A big clay barrel with a spigot was filled with freshly pumped water every morning for noon hour hand washing and drinking water.  
We were sorted according to grade and installed in the correct seats.  This is where we would sit for the remainder of the school term.  No jockeying for position next to best friends.  No problem.  I didn't know one single person there.
Not one row of seats had a full compliment of occupants.  I think maybe there might have been 20 pupils.  Not much of a work load for the teacher you might say until you realised she had eight grades to keep organised and working all at the same time.
Ah that first day of school.  Everyone dressed in at least their second best for the occasion with strict instructions to 'not get dirty'.  Yeah..right.  All through grade school little girls always wore dresses or skirts.  Never did you see a girl in shorts or slacks.
At morning recess we were marshaled outside to the front yard for exercises.  One long row of kids from grade one down to grade eight.  "On the count of three every second child jump out to the left."  What?  Oh good grief, I can't remember which way is left.
Talk about panic.  Eventually we formed two shorter rows and off we went on the exercises until teacher decided it was time to go back in and get down to business.
Other recesses we had splintery swings and see saws to play on.  In warm weather we might have a game of baseball in the afternoon recess.  As I recall, that's how one of the bigger boys broke his leg.  
It may not have been the best education but I have always been glad I had the experience of a one room school.
Today the grandies are back to very happy and excited, the other dreading another year of captivity.  I identify with the second one.

Monday, 4 September 2017

Poetry Monday

Poetry Monday is brought to us by Diane of On The Alberta Montana Border.  Monday needed a little somethin' somethin'.  Poetry is what it needed.  There aren't too many of us yet.  Diane of course and Procrastinating Donkey and there's me.  Sometimes Procrastinating Donkey gets a poem or two in her comments.  We like poems.  Why not join in?  Diane gives us a theme every week to help us along.  It's not necessary to use it but sometimes it helps to get you going.  Last weeks theme nearly gave us all a hernia it was so difficult.  This week....well this week was really hard for me...the theme is 'parents' and I miss mine so very badly.  Between blubbering and blowing my nose and wiping my eyes it's a wonder I got anything on paper. it is.

You were here
and then
you were gone.
All that's left,
a void,
cold and dark.
Was it all a dream?
Did I imagine 
those golden days
when we were all together?
It seems so long ago.
Those days when I
was the centre of your life
and you 
were the centre of mine...
when everything was perfect...
was it real?
We had each other
and there were grandparents
and uncles and aunts
all gone now
all gone
I miss you all so desperately
but most of all
I miss
my parents.

Sunday, 3 September 2017

Fun With Words

I love these old sayings that leave me wondering how on earth they came into being.
For Pete's sake!
Okay..who was Pete and why do we do things for his sake?
It is classed as a 'minced oath'.  An expression of frustration, exasperation or aggravation.  First in use in 1924 and is considered a euphemistic use of the disciples name or a substitute for "Christ's sake".
February 26 is (and I'm not kidding) For Pete's Sake Day.  Not as much fun as Valentines Day but still...any excuse for a party right?

I'm a little peckish.
It means you are either a little hungry or a little irritable or most likely both and is first noted being used around 1775.  Literally, disposed to peck.

Quit cold turkey.
To quit something (usually an addiction) abruptly.  
People believed that during withdrawal the skin of addicts became translucent, hard to the touch and covered with the skin of a plucked turkey....or goose.  

Saturday, 2 September 2017

Miguel? Is That You?

I haven't been sleeping well.  Actually, neither of us has been sleeping well.  We went to Sleep Country and paid an atrocious amount of money for two Polar/Tropic Pillows.  OMG...these things are amazing.  Where I would normally take hours to get to sleep it now takes minutes.  Where if something woke me I would be awake for the rest of the night, now I just drop back to sleep again (if I wake up at all in the first place). Before if the phone rang in the night I was on my feet and the first words out of my mouth would be, "what's wrong?".  You need to know all this to fully understand the enormity of what happened last night.
The phone rang.
I managed to pry one eye open.  The blaring red numbers on the clock read 3 something or other.  It was pretty fuzzy.  I don't sleep with my glasses on.  It took five rings before I managed to separate the receiver from the base.  My lips were dry and fastened together with what felt like crazy glue.  My tongue fastened to the roof of my mouth.  Only one eye would open just a tad.
"izzzzit?" I inquired.
"Miguel?   It's me, Arman.  You know, from the group?  You said I could call any time right?"
"Nomeeeee." I said, and hung up.
Three, maybe five heartbeats and the phone rang again.  I wasn't in any better shape.
"Ohhhhhhhh." I moaned.
"Miguel?  Are you all right?  You sound like you're having a stroke."
"Oh my God.  I'm hanging up and dialing 911 right now.  I'm coming over.  Don't worry Miguel. Help is coming."
The phone hung up in my ear.  
The last volley of rings from the phone must have penetrated the 'no hearing aids in' 'dead to the world' sleep of the hubs.
"Phnaaa?" he inquired.
We both turned over and went back to sleep on our wonderful new pillows.
Now, in the light of a new day, lips and teeth unstuck, eyes open, I'm beginning to wonder if it was real or if it was all a dream.  Perhaps a brain bubble surfaced overnight and I just thought I was answering the phone.  If it was real someone named Miguel got some unexpected company last last night (or early this morning).  Sorry Miguel.  I tried for you, I really did.

Saturday's Snort

Why did the mushroom go to the party?

(because he was a fungi)

Friday, 1 September 2017

Confession Time

The bed and the bedroom are where we are the most vulnerable; where we disrobe and where we sleep.  This space hears our most private, secret, whispered prayers,  cradles our broken hearts and collects our lonely tears.  It knows our agonies of childbirth and of death.  Bedrooms are where you find old family pictures and pieces of jewellery that belonged to long dead family members.  The bed and the bedroom are sacred spaces.   Not everyone gets invited into your bedroom and, if they are, they should show the proper reverence and respect for the space.   You can imagine my discomfort when ‘the littles’ want to go in to grandma’s room and get on her bed, when they handle precious old photos and ask ‘who is this’  and when I find remnants of chocolate on my bedspread and most especially when I find things on my dresser ‘rearranged’.  I know there are serious things going on in the world that I should be thinking about and worrying about and yet here I am fussing about this seemingly trivial thing.  I should probably take a long hard look at my priorities.  Anything you'd like to confess?

Thursday, 31 August 2017

Thursday's Quote

As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold. ~Author Unknown

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

Using Wednesday' Words

Words for Wednesday is a weekly writing prompt designed to get our creative juices flowing and our pens moving across paper.  This month River of Drifting Through Life (you can find her in my side bar) has provided the words.  This week is the last week for her and the prompts will be provided elsewhere in September.
It has been quite the challenge this month as River has provided us with some memorable words to use.
This weeks prompt words are:
Companionship, extenuating, complaisant, nuts, competition, computer, bedevilment, concoction, splat, eaves, clutching and institute.
Here goes:
“Well nuts.” Grace exclaimed as a sudden forceful knock on the door caused her to lose her grip on the wooden spoon she was using to stir a delectable concoction of apples and maple syrup.
“Now there’s a big sticky splat on my nice clean kitchen floor.” She growled.
Clutching the spoon and looking like fury itself Grace went to the front door.
“Why Sheriff” she exclaimed, “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon after all our excitement.  The funeral for Alan will be on Friday you know.  I thought I might see you then.”
“Grace,” the Sheriff gave her his most beguiling smile “what is that wonderful aroma coming from your kitchen?  I could smell it all the way out to the end of your lane.”
“Home made bread, fresh churned butter and Granny Parkers maple flavoured applesauce.  But, you didn’t come all the way out here to ask me that.”
“Well no.  There are some extenuating circumstances arising from the Deveroux house fire I need to talk to you about.  It appears, Grace, that you were related to the Deverouxs through your mothers line.”
Grace, complaisant as always, was getting the Sheriff set up with a goodly slice of buttered bread and a dish of applesauce.
“I looked it up on the computer, Grace” he continued, “You and a young lady in nearby Terrytown actually jointly own the old estate being the last living descendants of James R. Deveroux.”
Grace chuckled.  “My, my, what an inheritance; a burned out old hulk of a house.”
“And 500 acres of prime industrial land with access to the main highway.  This is land the big developers will go into competition for.  We’re talking big money here.”
Grace looked at him shrewdly. “There’s something you’re not telling me isn’t there? “
“Well yes, the young lady is currently living in an institute for the physically infirm.  Her parents abandoned her at birth.”
“How physically infirm?” Grace asked tightly.
“Oh she’s smart as a whip.  Takes college courses for amusement.” The Sheriff replied, “But,her face is deformed on one side and she walks with a crutch.  Almost looks……burned.”
“How old?” came through Grace’s gritted teeth.

“Twenty three now.  Lonely little critter.”  The Sheriff cast a sideways glance at Grace through lowered  lids. “The only companionship she has is a big amethyst coloured spider that lives under the eaves outside her window.  You and she would need to talk about what you want to have happen with the property.  Oh, and one more thing, just so you are prepared, her voice what with the disfigurement …. It’s a little …. how can I explain it?  it’s…sort of … gusty.

Monday, 28 August 2017

Poetry Monday

Poetry Monday was started by Diane of On The Alberta/Montana Border (you can find her in my sidebar).  Jenny O of Procrastinating Donkey joined in and, well, so did I.  We could use some more players.  Jump in.  The poetic water is fine.
This week’s theme is, ‘eclipse of life’.  You can’t blame Diane for this one, her hubs came up with it.  Use the theme or free style it…..rhyme or not…..we’d love to have you join us.

is how she felt,
beside the bright and shining lights
that were her siblings.
Those over achievers
‘can do’ believers
cast a long shadow.
The brain,
the beauty,
the artist;
they spread a shadow that was long, dark and cold.
It smothered her tiny spark.
When she decided
to remove herself permanently
they spoke of her smile,
her gentleness,
her caring nature
and how much she would be missed
and they wondered aloud,
She had been,

Sunday, 27 August 2017

More Strange WordsI

a bindlestiff is a tramp or hobo...particularly the type with a long stick over their shoulder with a cloth bundle hanging from it.
Originating in the early 1900's  is supposed to be an alteration of 'bundle' and 'stiff'  (in this event, a useless person).

My mother was often 'flummoxed' ; bewildered or perplexed.  Originating mid 19th century and is assumed to be of dialect origin.  To flummock is to make untidy, to confuse.

Absquatulate means to depart or leave somewhere abruptly.  Originating mid 19th century as a combination of Latin words; abscond, squatte (depart) and perambulate.
I am now going to absquatulate from this blog post.  

Saturday, 26 August 2017

Saturday's Snort

How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?


Friday, 25 August 2017

An Empty Mind is a Terrible Thing

Driving along Woolwich St yesterday I was pondering my lack of ideas for a blog post for this morning.  I happened to glance up and saw a second floor office I guess over a store...and in the window a young woman with her head in her hands.

Lady in the window
head in hand,
you look so sad,
do you need a friend?
If I tap on your window
we could share our fears.
You dry mine,
I'll dry your tears.
The world is a dark place
when you're alone.
So many around us
weep and moan.
Put a light in your window,
a candle by your door,
a beacon in the darkness
to a friendly shore.

An incomplete thought is better than no thought at all...yes?

Thursday, 24 August 2017

Thursday's Quote

The human species is made up of seven billion plus subspecies each consisting of one specimen.
..........................Robert Brault..........................

Wednesday, 23 August 2017

Using Wednesday's Words

Words for Wednesday is a weekly writing prompt designed to get us motivated.  Anyone can join in on any day of the week and use some, all or none of the prompt.
This week the prompt is provided by River of Drifting Through Life (you can find her in my sidebar).
dusk, apples, sauce, knitting, amethyst, window
itching, silk, gossamer, security, exquisite and turbulent

here goes:

A dark shadow loomed at the top of the stairs.
"So, you're still alive.  And talking to yourself.  Tough old bird aren't you?  It's too bad.  Now I have to figure out a way to finish you off."
The door on the landing slammed shut and Grace could hear heavy bolts being thrown.  The air in the basement was turbulent with pulsating energy.
The gusty voice she had become accustomed to trembled with anger when it asked if she knew who the intruder was.
"Alan, my nephew." she replied softly. ' He always was a nasty little devil.  He's the only family I have left and I've left him everything in my will.  I guess he's in a bit of a hurry."
"You've got to get out of here.  Something bad is going to happen.  I can feel it.  There's a window in the far corner behind the wood furnace."
Grace rested against the cellar wall and thoughtfully observed a beautiful amethyst spider spinning its exquisite silken, gossamer strands.  "I don't think I can climb out of a window.  I'm no spring chicken you know.  What is that smell?  Oh Lordie....that's gasoline."
Grace got shakily to her feet and clasped her head with both hands.
"Where's that window?  I have to try."
She could see that it was dusk now.  It would be a good cover for an attempted escape.
"Try hard." the gusty voice urged.
A few boxes pushed under the window gave Grace the lift required to reach her goal.  The glass had been broken out years ago.  She turned to grin at the empty cellar.  "Pretty poor security, eh?"  Suddenly she hopped off the boxes and, reaching into the corner picked up the spider she had been admiring.  "No need for you to suffer poor thing."
A loud whoosh from upstairs sent Grace scrambling quickly through the window and into the fresh air.  She turned hesitantly back toward the opening.  "What about you?" she asked softly.
"Don't worry about me.  Nothing can hurt me anymore and I have a few surprises for our friend Alan."
As Grace hustled through the woods in the dying light she muttered to herself, "Lordie I'm just itching to get back to my little place.  I'll have some supper and some of that applesauce I made this morning and then settle down with my knitting to calm myself.  But first....I'm going to call the police and turn that young whipper snapper in.  Oh yes, and I think my days of exploring empty old houses is over.