Facade continued (2)

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Amanda was as shattered as I expected.  Damn!  No way to lessen the impact of a statement like that.  She was younger than I, not by much, but she’d lead a sheltered life and was in no way prepared for the news.  Not that I was either.  Still I found myself on a white-knuckle ride as I attempted to shield and protect my other best friend.

Both women worked in my shop, Gifts’n such.  Not only did we work together, we shared our lives and spend as much of our free time together as work time.  Consequently,  we were close.  We’de created a sisterhood of our own.  There was a hole in the fabric of time and our lives.  We wandered the room unable to settle as emotion rolled through us.  Grief would not be denied as anger, frustration, denial, and loss whipped through us like a storm on a blustery night.  In an attempt to ward of the emptiness that tried to ooze in, I had an idea.

Although i didn’t relish the idea, I sat Amanda down and explained how the police handled an unexplained, a supposedly easier word for murder, and the timeline involved. I watched as she assimilated all that had been explained in detail by Detective Grayson,  although hers was a condensed version.

“Janie’s parents will be here in a few days.  Jim has to finish up some work before they are able to leave.  They’ve given us the go-ahead to plan the wake.  It would be too overwhelming to hold at Janie’s so I was hoping you’d help me with the arranging.  We could hold the wake here.  You up for that, Amanda?”

“Yeah, we need to do this, I need to do this.”

“What did the Detective have to say?”

“At first he threw a lot of bureaucratic red tape in my face.  When I resisted, he asked a few leading questions that suggested Janie was killed out on the flats.  At least that’s where her body was found by a couple on a romantic rendezvous.”

“The flats?  Why would Janie go there?”

“She mentioned a new boyfriend, someone she’d recently met.  Wouldn’t give me details, didn’t say much.  Only that he was originally from Calgary and his family had moved to Quebec.  He’d grown up there and integrated.  Apparantly he was travelling across Canada before heading to Europe.”

“Consequently, I wondered if she’d planned on meeting him on the boat.”  Sam waited and let the idea sink in.

“You mean her parents Trimaran?”

“Exactly.  Interested in some sleuthing?”

“As ever!”

“Let’s head out that way.  If the police haven’t cordoned it off yet, we might find something to suggest what Janie was doing there, or what information she may have obtained that resulted in her demise, if it was connected.”

“She loved a good mystery, and she was great at solving them.  Used to drive me bonkers!  Couldn’t watch a show she hadn’t figured out, five minutes in.”

“What do you think she found?”

“No idea, but I’m determined to investigate, see if I can find out.”

They dressed warmly for the cool autumn weather carrying a biting chill.  Hopping into Sam’s car,  they drove out to the flats along the old highway.  Sam parked on the west side of the bridge and alighting from the car, they hurried to the boat.

Amanda was definitely not a sailor and the second they stepped foot on the boat, the miniscule rocking had her turning green.  “Oh my god, now I remember why I hate boats!”

They weren’t aboard long.  Sam took a cursery look around and found fresh food in the pantry and opening the fridge found milk cheese and eggs bacon along with a bottle of bubbly and a couple of champagne flutes she’d obviously planned on using.  Finding their “could-have-been book” they turned to go.

From nowhere a shot rang out.  A man’s voice was yelling at them to stay down and take cover.  Sam peered overtop the edge of the cabin.  A man was hurtling through space toward her and thumped onto the boat it’s tumultuous rocking shook her hands from the hold she had on the cabin roof and Amanda struggled to remain upright.

“Grayson, what are you doing here?” Sam asked in surprise.

“I might ask you the same damn question!” he growled as gun in hand he turned to survey the surrounding area.   He cursed as a boat on the far side of the quay roared to life and raced away across the water.

“Now, I want an explanation.”

“Can we get to dry land first?” Amanda requested.

Noting her pallor he assisted both onto the shore.  “I’m waiting!”




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I was wondering and decided to include everyone in my wanderlust to see what your thoughts are on the subject.

Have you noticed there are many who expect forgiveness for things said and done, as though it’s their right?  While others cannot forgive themselves for slight errors much less weighty ones? It made me ask, is it a matter of conscience, some have one, others don’t?

Personally, I find small hurts or slights and unintentional wounds easy to forgive.  But what of the other “stuff” the huge life changing grievences perpetrated upon our person?  How do we get to forgiveness with those?

I’ve witnessed through news reports, parents, husbands and wifes, mothers and fathers forgiving a perpetrator (too harsh a word?).  One of many examples, a drunk driver who had taken the life of another.  Although grieving, achingly so, I watched a video taken in a court room of a mother and father forgiving  a young man who’d taken their very young daughter from them.  In an astounding act of the ultimate in digging deep past the hurt anger and pain, they wrapped the young man in their arms as he sobbed uncontrollably.

I had to wonder whether I had it in me to reach that depth of forgiveness and understanding.  I suppose it would depend on the how and why of the situation and whether carelessness played a part, whether it was a premeditated act, or truly accidental.

As I’ve aged, gracefully or not, this question continues to haunt me.  They say letting go and forgiving is a healing to you and in no way negates the acts the perpetrator has committed.  I often wonder.







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Oh the yin and yang of it all

Sometimes I feel so small

Test of faith, test of love

Tests that will not fit like a glove

A journey an ongoing quest

Often i am confounded and beat my breast

Which path to take, left or right

My decisions often cut like a knife

Draped in confusion amidst all this

For there is no right or wrong only what is

Still we have come so far, so many tests completed

We are at last at the big table seated

Feeling accomplished and delighted

Through it all we carry on undaunted

Surely more tests our way will come

We shall handle them with apolmb

For the end result is what we seek

To get there we must not be meek

But take in hand that which comes our way

As upon the field of growth we play

One day perhaps to achieve

All that we now perceive

Baby steps must follow each undertaken bravely

Until the ultimate test, that of our humanity

Our goal a simple one

Long since begun

And when we listen to the whisper

We shall acknowledge our strength of character.




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I laugh when I wish to cry, I smile when I am sad, I joke when I am scared.  My facade complete, in place, I go to face the world.  My best friend is gone.  Not due to illness, or an accident, but as a result of murder.  Murder!  In small town nowhere.  So small we don’t even have a traffic light.  Not one!

The population is compact, intimate as small towns are.  Everyone knows everyone, and their business.  You practically know what someone is doing before they do it! Therefore that Janie had been murdered didn’t seem possible, reasonable, logical.

I was looking for the logic, the reason behind it all.  She was a bright star, a generous and exceedingly attractive woman, and funny.  My god,  she was funny!  She could light up a room with her smile. It was impossible to believe anyone hated Janie let alone hate her enough to kill her.

I was waiting for the Detective assigned to the case to arrive.  He would have questions.  After watching hundreds of police shows on tv, the scenerio seldom differed, so I half knew what to expect.  Since I was apparantly the last person to see her alive, it made sense.

They would work backward from the time of her demise, until the last time she’d been seen alive by anyone. Since we were best friends, and she worked for me, it would be logical I might have information.  Amanda hadn’t been told. I would have to tell her before the police arrive.  I’d waited knowing how shattered she would be.  Good news should be shared immediately, bad news could always wait a little longer.

I’d plastered a smile on my face and continued with my day.  The fascade was beginning to crack.  I had to hold on just a little longer, until after the police questioned me.  Then I would close the shop and gather Amanda, and we would head to my place, and together, continue with what came next.



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“It’s a moot point!  You’re living in the past!  Move on!  It’s over!” I stood staring at him, his legs spread slightly apart, standing stiff legged, arms held ridgidly at his side, his eyes reflections of ice chips you could freeze in.

I stared dumbfounded!  How heartless, how unshakeable immoveable and cold!  Unbelieveably hostile.  Where was this coming from?  Why?  I didn’t understand, not at all.  I was surely on the other side of that fence!  Ok, ok, so I was compassionate, caring, warmhearted, certainly not to a fault!  I mean, I could get tough!  I could get down and dirty, mean and rough, couldn’t I?  Sure I could.

We’de faced off before.  It was the nature of the business, the nature of the job.  He was an advocate for changing the city, modernzing, creative space and all that.  I had no quarrel with that, none what-so-ever.  While I was a book writer, a novelist I euphemistically considered myself as I hadn’t sold a book as yet. This was different.

I was digging my heals in this time!  This little piece of heaven must remain.  I didn’t give a damn if they built 20 square blocks around this space.  This space was mine, correction, ours!  It belonged to those of us with a deep and abiding connection with the past, with a by-gone era in which elegance, beauty, decorum remained.  Certainly things were crazy, dicey, and who knows what went on behind closed doors.  That wasn’t in question.

This was the last haven of design that meant something, was something!  I would fight to the death to preserve this space including the architecture that had come to mean so much.  Perhaps getting to know the charachters who lived here, a microcosim of humanity that still clung to style and grace, who dressed with care, hair coiffed and shoes shining impeccably, was part of it.  The ambiance of this space imbude the stylish sophistication of an era long past. That did not, however, make it irrelevant!

“I realize that may be what you think?  But you are dead wrong!  This fight has just begun!” I nearly spat.  “Whether it’s a team of lawyers or a mountain of red tape, I will tie this site up and gift wrap it for you as a reminder that you will not win this one!”  Standing tall I continued,  “And no, don’t even consider your moral high ground ‘agree to disagree’ doesn’t equate with this situtation, it’s not on the table!  It’s  a fight to the death, Mason.  I’m in, in all the way and you’ll soon realize I don’t give up and I don’t give in.  You can take that to the bank!”  I turned and marched away without giving him an opportunity to respond.  There was nothing more to be said.  We were on opposite sides of a battle field and I needed distance between us.

He would have cursed, wanted to curse.  They’d grown up together, attended the same schools, becomes friends and even lovers.  Now they were adversaries in the most important moment of his life.  He had to win this one, or lose his position on the board of architectural design.

What made the situation worse, he couldn’t in his heart disagree with anything she’d said, and how he knew she felt about this little piece of heaven.  Architecturally she was right, but it wasn’t on the game plan for the high rollers of the city.  They foresaw three 20 story building that would abutt against the enroaching downtown area.

Disagree? On the surface, they would.  His fight could become an all out war, down and dirty, rough and tough and even he was concerned with how viscious this could become.  He’d taken his stand, it was his job.  They would fight!



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Unfinished business, that’s what I am?

I lean forward his eyes I quickly scan

You left without a single word

I thought someone else you preferred

I tossed and turned and slept so little

Nothing was said, you  were noncommittal

A year has passed in which to heal

Even as my eyes in sleep did seal

I’ve pictured your beautiful face

Full of strength and equal grace

I loved you with depth profound

Memories full and clear abound

Of everything we shared together

Days and nights of heady pleasure

Now a conundrum before me lays

My mind enveloped in a haze

Or did we leave our business unfinished?







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Oh what a pickle I am in

As I laugh a toothy grin

Time is short and I must hurry

I race around and I scurry

Looking for the purse I cannot find

Surely it’s not been left behind

I cast my mind on back

The lights were off it was pitch black

The moment when I had it last

Within my grasp and held fast

It has all I need tucked within

I must find it patience wearing thin

I’m already late for this important date

This could not be an act of fate

The dilemma I now face

Acting with good grace

I stand and peer around

Thank god it’s on the ground

Tis now held within my hand

Only dropped it in the sand

When I saw two men I adore

Walking toward me on the shore

I must run and I must hide

They must not know what is inside

Tickets to the latest show

Both have given me, in the know

How much I love the opera

Good god is this a soap opera

When once upon a time I was alone

I now juggle two men I adore

Neither one I wish to ignore

Oh what a pickle I am in

For only one my heart will win









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I walked to work this morning, carried on my day as usual, much as every other day.

The day stretched long and bleak before me.  To say I felt sick, bewildered, shocked and numb in combination was an understatement.  How was I supposed to get through this day?  Forget a day, weeks, months, years stood before me!  All alone, unescorted, unaccompanied.  I pictured that solitary figure I’d seen only last week, a single, lonely figure walking down the street hunched in sadness and sorrow  aged and so alone.  Could that be me?

Pretend, that’s what I’d do.  The sun shone brightly overhead, I did not see it or feel it’s warmth.  I straightened my back and held my head high. No one would ever know by glancing my way, I was filled with sorrow.

The breeze whisked my hair from my face, I did not feel it’s gentle caress.  Pretend, that’s what I would do.  Stroking my hair i continue on down the street unaware of it’s effort to awaken me.

A bustling street filled with people I did not know sauntered, hurried, jostled around me and I did not notice nor care.  Pretend! I scolded myself.  I placed a fake smile upon my face and walked a little faster, attempting to add purpose to my step so no one would notice how lost I was.

I wondered if I had managed to make the pretense complete.  Would anyone notice the glazed sorrowful eyes or the pain emanating from within or how bereft I felt?  Was I convincing in my deception?  Could I be that effective an actress and pretend to wear this mantra so well no questions were asked, no pity given?  Had my disguise worked? Would I ever fit in with these happy delighted joyful people or was I destined to remain on the outside looking in forever?

I woke from the dream, startled and stared around me if only to confirm that what I’d witnessed was only that, a dream.  I reached across the bed and touched my partner.  Yes he was real, this was real, the other was but a dream.  Only a dream; I congratulated myself and fell back asleep.  Only to fall through the now floating sugary wisps surrounding me, back into the unknown.  Pretend was the last word I heard.



Sunshine Blogger Award

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Here are the rules for the Sunshine Blogger Award: (If you choose to participate)

Thank the person who nominated you

I am doubly honoured Ayoka as I enjoy your blogs very much.  When I consider how I felt writing my first blog, I am astounded by your responses as I continue reading them, enjoying them so much, a true highlight of my day!

These awards are so touching and delightful as I read and learn some intimate details that make me feel closer to all of you.

Answer their questions

Nominate fellow bloggers who you follow

Give them ten questions to answer

Questions For Nominees: 

What languages do you speak?

I only speak English alas I’ve forgotten my French, Spanish and Sign Language.  Something I really should rectify.

When did you last cry in front of another person?

Crying is very rare for me, not something I do often.  The last time I cried was watching my granddaughter dance because she is exquisite.

Are you less religious than your parents?

My parents passed many years ago, and my form of religion is different. I believe in God, but not organized religion.

What is the the one thing you have tried but will never do again?

Unfortunately I have to say the list is long.  Due to an accident I’ve lost a great deal of my vision so I am unable to knit, crochet, and most heart wrenching of all, paint draw or photography all of which I was incredibly good at and which delighted me immensely.

Do you believe everyone needs a soulmate?

Actually, I do.  I believe that often too many “settle” but I have witnessed friends finding their “soulmate” and it is such a delight.

Would you say no to palm oil products to save the orangutans?

I am uneducated in this area, but I don’t believe in harming animals for any reason.

Have you ever succeeded when you thought you might fail?

On many occasions, too numerous to recount, the answer is an unqualified yes!

Who makes your dinner?

We work together to make dinner, so the “who” changes daily but it is a combined effort for the most part as we enjoy our meals as a family.
Do you consider yourself an extrovert or an introvert

I have been both.  Although shy at first, I am extroverted once I feel comfortable.

Have you ever witnessed a panic attack?

I have only witnessed my own.

I nominate the following, although I have so many I wish to choose.



Globolabo Adetunji


A Star on the Forehead

Roberta Pimentel




<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/panic/">Panic</a>


I love Cape Scott Park.  The winds can reach a varified 120 mph so it’s not a place to hike during fall and winter. You may have to fight trails with bears on occasion so 13 caches are provided for campers food.  There are now cautionary warnings regarding wolves as well. You drive 1 1/2 hours over an active, graded gravel logging road, and you must yield right of way to logging trucks traveling between 7 am and 4 pm.

Throughout  Cape Scott you will wander past some excellent examples of old-growth forest, including Sitka Spruce and Western Red Cedar in excess of 3 metres in diameter with many treas 7 meters in diameter. I used to love hiking there.

On one such occasion, while hiking with my two (then) teenagers, we took the shorter jaunt to San Josef Bay which is an easy 45 minute hike in. Might I add well worth the effort.

We packed a lunch and frisbee and when we arrived at the beach, we relaxed, ate and played games before wandering a considerable length of beach.  Noticing clouds moving toward us, I suggested we head out.  When heavy cloud moves in, it’s possible to get stuck there and you won’t move until the clouds lift.  One couple mentioned hunkering down for 13 days. Although this was much further into the park, it still concerned me.  True or not, it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take as we had only prepared a light lunch and no extra clothing.

Fortunately my son had raced on ahead, determined to win the race back to the car.  As I hustled along, enjoying my surroundings, chatting with my daughter, it happened!  For no apparant reason, I lost my breath, I couldn’t seem to suck in enough air to fill my lungs and there I stood in the middle of the path shaking my hands in panic.  I remember stomping my feet and turning circles for some unknown reason.  When I still couldn’t catch my breath, I started ripping layers of clothing off until I stood in nothing but my underwear and shoes.  I was gasping for breath, and I couldn’t make a sound to alert my daughter up ahead of me.  When she realized she was alone, she back tracked to find me.  I grabbed hold of her and held on.  Simply touching her seemed to calm me and I was finally able to suck air slowly into my deprived lungs.  It took awhile for the panic to subside. My daughter did her best to shield me lest an unwitting hiker should appear.

In the process I re-dressed myself and I began laughing.  I laughed so hard i doubled in half and tears rolled down my cheeks.  My daughter’s startled eyes now held a question. I’d never had a panic attack and had no idea that is what had transpired.  My only thought at the time was what if some poor hiker had come upon us,  finding me nearly naked, clad in next to nothing.  It would have been mortifying to me, but no doubt a shock to them as well or perhaps provided a good laugh – either way, you can imagine my relief that did not happen.

My daughter stayed close the rest of the way back to the car.  I was relieved not knowing what that was, but I certainly didn’t want a repeat. It wasn’t my last panic attack and they would continue for several years. It did not stop me from embarking on other hiking expeditions.

When once I was mortified by panic attacks, I’ve come to understand, they are a result of a stoic strong person holding on too long and a release of tension and stress relief is required.  I no longer fear them and they have thankfully subsided over the years.







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When I contemplated the word “generous”, I struggled.  Admittedly, some have become jaded as they witness the extent of greed in our society as well as the horrendous misuse of funds.  Perhaps having observing the extent of what some consider acceptable theft, or observing people stepping on others to obtain a promotion. Indeed the news is full of such examples resulting in a cloud of suspicion and negativity as we shake our heads in disgust and shame at where some have allowed themselves to go.

During particular occasions, christmas being one of them, or perhaps a special birthday or anniversary, we are compelled by generosity to make the occasion as special as possible and it gladdens our hearts to do so.

Conversely there are many who epitomize generosity in spirit and it’s a part of who they are.  I thought I’d share just one example of a moment of unexpected generosity that touched my heart.

While sitting in the car not far from the mall entrance, I watched a frail gentleman struggle, his gait unsure, as he made his way to the door.  Many hustled by him accidentally bumping and nudging him and he nearly toppled over.  A younger man walking nearby, witnessed the incident.  He walked closer to the older man, held out a hand and I watched him introduce himself.  The older man seemed startled at first.  They shook hands after which, he took the older man’s arm and guided him the rest of the way to the door.  He didn’t stop there.  He opened the door and cleared a path for the gentleman, holding  the door until the dotteringly slow gentleman entered.  Another conversation resulted.  He didn’t walk away but assisted the man on, into the mall and out of sight.   I was overcome with emotion at the tenderness of the moment which moved me to tears.  The generous display, unsolicited, and obviously heartfelt all the more valuable as a result.

We often hear of huge events arranged on a massive scale, and while I certainly don’t negate the momentousness of what was accomplished as a result, I find I’m far more touched as a result of the daily moments of generosity available to all of us.  That helping hand, the kind word, a moment in which to uplift or assist another in meaningful ways that has a profound and lasting affect on the recipient.

I’ve experienced generosity of nature here, among this delightful community of bloggers, who constantly offer uplifting and thoughtful words of encouragement.  Generosity of nature is not lost here.  I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you who offer that spirit freely and willingly and although on the surface, we may not see the affect, it is felt and appreciated.




The Black Cat Blue Sea Award

The Black Cat Blue Sea Award



Thank you very much Second Time Blogger for nominating me for this lovely award.  I, as were you, very surprised delighted and stunned at being nominated for the first award and am equally touched to receive this one as well.  We also have black cats in common it would seem for my cat, Porsche, is black and poofy and incredibly intelligent.  I love him dearly!  So I’m with you, the name of this award rocks!  And as mentioned, it is supposed to be fun!

My questions for the nominees :

  1. What do you wish to achieve out of your blog?
  2. Do you have a dream which you havent got around to fulfilling yet? If yes, then what is it?
  3. If you had to pick between reading a book/watching a movie while sipping on a good cup of coffee/any beverage and talking a walk on a beach, which would you choose and why?

1. In all honesty, I was terrified the first time, it was a “jump” and swim situation as I’d never heard about blogs or blogging and couldn’t fathom what I could possibly write about.  Now that I’m well and truly in the water, I’m swimming full steam ahead.  What I achieve through this blog, is meeting absolutely delightful people, a very warm community in fact, many of whom I hold very dear to my heart.  Through blogging, I get to experience what other individuals in the world think feel hope for and how they write and perceive life.  An exchange of thoughts and ideas on a global basis and therefore illuminating.

2. I’ve fulfilled so many of my dreams, and  yes I’ll probably have more.  They seem to pop up unexpectedly and there it is, another aspect or goal or dream I want to fulfill.  At the moment, having published my first novel, I am working on 3 others and the current dream is to finish these and publish them as well.

3.How about reading a book, on the beach with coffee while enjoying the “view” and chillaxing.  Seriously, a book trumps all else for entertainment;  I can easily lose myself in a good book and I adore the beach.  There is a freedom in both the book and the beach as well as exhilaration.

I sincerely thank you for nominating me as I read your prose constantly as the others I am about to nominate.




Roberta Pimentel


Sascha Darlington


My questions to you are:

  1.  Do you consider humour as an important element in your life?
  2. What is the furthest destination you have been able to travel to?
  3. Did the expectations live up to the dream?







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It seems forever now as I look back through time and in the misty distance watch myself as a child.  Those old tapes are sometimes valuable.  I recall sitting on a swing, one of the pure joys of my young life!  Happily swaying back and forth, the breeze caressing my cheeks as i pumped constantly to reach the highest heights, fearlessly reaching my goal, until I could see over the top bar.  Gradually I would slow down and begin again.  I would literally spend hours on a swing, it was pure contentment and peace for me. The time would come when I had to leave and it was necessary to jump!  I’d witnessed others jump from incredible heights to land on the ground.  Some did the duck and roll, others flat out flew through the air and landed in a heap on the ground.  It was my turn.  I needed to be brave and I waited nervously for the right time to leap. I did it! I was thrilled.

As adults, that leap of faith, that jump into the unknown seems far scarier and far more difficult to accomplish. Fears pop up and the what if scenario.  That new job in a town far away, taking our relationship to a new level, making new friends, obtaining our first home, our first child, all require that jump into uncertainty. Often we have to feel the fear and do it anyway!

When you are secure in who you are and what you are about, where you want to go and what you are determined to accomplish, that leap of faith, that jump into “mystery” becomes doable and certainly worthwhile!  More than worthwhile for we gain confidence and believe in ourselves and our ability to handle anything that comes our way.

Having a fabulous family and friends who act as our support group can make decisions so much easier. And each time I think of that frightened nervous child attempting fate jumping from that swing into the  vastness below, I cheer her.  I congratulate her with humble pride.  I want to be that child again, with determination, courage, and strength.  She’s my constant reminder that anything is possible when you have faith in yourself and your abilities.





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What is stylish today is outdated tomorrow.  Our preoccupation with styles leads to an ever constant change in how we fashion our hair even the clothes and accessories we wear.  Often movies are easily identified as a result of styles whether it’s the 20’s  50’s  80′ and so on.

I’ve always worn what appeals, what I enjoy and am comfortable in.  If it were considered stylish, then perhaps on occasion, I was, but I always wore that which flattered.

Interestingly “stylish” often pertains to what is popular in thought and ideals readily accepted without consideration.  Certainly there are foods we should avoid in excess. Yet when you consider changes in the marketplace, you notice whole sections of foods that are now “fashionable” to eat and not necessarily appropriate for our particular body and health considerations.

“Style” also influences our views on politics, religion, even what is acceptable as a “norm” for society.

Certainly, time will make clear whether what we perceive as valuable truly is or whether it was only “stylish” and of the moment.





Silence is a paradox.  It can mean everything!  when a toddler is silent, we automatically investigate for silence usually means they have found something to enjoy they should not.  We flop on the bed;  silence at long last as the infant sleeps, finally a respite following a long fretful night.

Suddenly our delightful baby has progressed to their teen years.  We laughingly remember what silence was.  A delightful chaos now reigns, where’s this where’s that, I’ve lost something or other, always in a rush to be somewhere or do something.  Friends arrive and we are surrounded by chaos personified.  Amid laughter, screeches, music a little too loud, footsteps racing to the kitchen for food and back again we wonder, when will we have silence?

Without warning they are young adults moving away, their lives truly beginning as they enter college, university or their first job away from home.  Silence!  How many occasions, longing for quiet solitude, we yearned for silence in which to gather our thoughts in which to make decisions.  Now we have it, but silence is not what we want.

Now we’re lost in aching silence.   Where noise and boisterous activity once abounded, there’s nothing, nothing but silence!  Surrounded by silence!  How can we live with such silence?

Indeed a paradox! The thing we sought, we finally have, and yet it is not what we want  Years pass and silence is all we know.  We would give anything for just one moment, again filled with anything but silence.






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On this lovely autumn day, dinner eaten, dishes done, we decided since there was plenty of light as yet, we would indulge in an early evening stroll.  There wouldn’t be many days such as this where carefree abandonment reigned.  We chatted, we kibitzed we laughed, we hummed little ditties as they entered our mind, all the while holding hands enjoying each others company.

Our short journey carried us passed a variety of homes some distance away.  Many were very modern in design, some were character homes, while others were reminiscent of yesteryear, new made to look old with log supports and grand decks on which to enjoy the best of summer and fall.

Reaching a small stream, I laughingly watched Franklin hike his trousers up with great panache prepared to traverse the stream, dry, if not stylishly.  The water was extremely cold and several times we lost our footing and ended up sloshing water everywhere and soon the game was on.  We kicked we hopped we splashed and before long we were drenched.  The hike had taken a mischievous turn full of spontaneity and fun.

As we returned home, soaked to the skin, we hustled, we hurried, then ran and finally raced toward the roaring fire awaiting us.  Inside, we kicked off our wet sodden shoes, dashed to the fireplace and lay them gently side by side.  Looking at Franklin, I couldn’t help but laugh, remembering the deliberate and hilarious hiking of his trousers in a futile attempt to remain bone dry.  We fell into each others arms, cuddling together before bolting to the washroom to shower away the rest of the chill before settling in front of the fire.  We shared a happy smile, another memory made to reminisce over in years to come.



I have been passionate about many things so I suppose that makes me a passionate person in general.

When I could see well, I was very passionate about photography and as a result though I had no training and therefore didn’t understand about lighting, angles, framing, took pictures of what interested me and won some acclaim, bylines and commendations.  My walls were covered with pictures I’d taken having entered photo contests on a variety of subjects.

When I could see well, I used to paint and draw.  Perhaps through my grandmother whom I never had an opportunity to meet, I inherited some talent.  She was an incredible painter, who by the standards of the day sold her painting for large sums. As a child I saw a few of her charcoal drawings and they were indeed wonderful in and of themselves.  Sadly many of her works of art were stolen and never found.

I used to use a variety of items as my canvas.  Using acrylics I painted on seashells (not an easy task due to the shape) also requiring a great deal of preparation, but well received.  I even painted on cloth or canvas.  Because I was passionate I would spend hours when I thought only minutes had whizzed by.

When I could see well, I taught myself to crochet and knit some intricate patterns and later sold or used them as gifts. I enjoyed so much, creating and making a variety of items.  It was such a delight.

When I could see well, I started writing novels.  Many I lost as my computer died and over the years I’ve started again many times until I finally with great joy in my heart, completed Prisoner on Holiday.  I am very passionate about writing.  Fortunately my son knows how to set up my computer so I can with very large print and a great deal of patience on his part, navigate from site to site enabling the opportunity to read and enjoy some of your writings as well.

Most of all I am passionate about family.  I love them all and care passionately about their well being, health, growth mentally, physically, and spiritually.  Therefore I am passionate about offering and creating opportunities in all these areas and commending them on effort as much as success.

Perhaps what I am trying to say through-out these many examples, is that passion can move mountains, create opportunities, and refine ability.  Never stop being passionate about what you do.  It can be an incredible and positive driving force.




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A word of beauty, strength, solidarity and hope.  For together we have weathered all manner of storms.  As one we are strong, together we are mighty!  This vigil of life we undertake, and whether daily or nightly, we offer protection and sanctuary to those we love.  Understanding abounds when we face the onslaught of all that comes our way.  We clap our hands tightly and hold firm so any attack seen or not, we quelled.  The unity in this word binds us together as one.  Nothing shall stay the love we hold dear. Job changes aplenty would frighten many, but not us, they were cause for celebration. Together we have gained perspective and appreciation for all the sacrifice and pleasure we attained.

As one we are strong, together we are mighty

This vigil we undertake, whether daily or nightly

To offer protection to those we love

An umbrella of devotion up above

Our clasped hands tight and firmly held

An onslaught though unseen we quelled

Jobs changes and relocations

Became  delightful celebrations

Together we have gained perspective

Strength solidarity and hope were not elective

Summed up by appreciation and affection

Our life a wonderful reflection

Of what we can share and accomplish, together.












I’m forever astounded and awed by everything fragile, whether it is a delicate paper thin wineglass, a butterfly, or a vulnerable flower tossed about in a gentle breeze.  Even frost on the windowpane, it’s exquisite pattern captures attention for it will not stay long.

We race headlong through days weeks months years, barely noticing the passage of time and how fragile a moment can be. Often taking for granted these ephemeral things, perhaps noting, but not fully appreciating  the delicacy intricacy and perfection offered.

Often, we fail to acknowledge the beautiful amazing design of our own human form, so incredibly strong yet astoundingly vulnerable.  Constantly pushing the limits of what the human body is capable of, yet conversely, in the twinkling of an eye, it can all be gone.  Perhaps it is only with the passing of age, dare I say wisdom? we begin to appreciate and understand how finite we truly are.

Most precious of all is family, comprised of special, delicate, invaluable fragile individuals to be loved, enjoyed, cherished.











Versatile Blogger Award


Thank you very much Pakhi for nominating me for this award, which I humbly accept.  I thoroughly enjoy blogging as I push the envelope in an attempt at honing my writing skills.  It has been on occasion, a delightful challenge. Therefore receiving this nomination for something I truly love and enjoy doing surprises and delights me on many levels. Here goes!  Since I thoroughly enjoy many of your posts as well, I have selected a few I hope you are able to connect with and enjoy as much as I do.

I can’t seem to make a link work to notify all of the delightful writers I have nominated, so hopefully, you’re reading this and will notice it.  I look forward eagerly to reading your posts on Versatile Blogger.  Until then, take care and enjoy.


7 random facts about me:

  1. I am a fraternal twin.
  2. From early childhood, and my teens in particular, I have been an avid reader.
  3. At one point in my life, the number of moves I’d made equaled my age and we’re talking double digits. (snickers loudly)
  4. Writing a daily blog has opened a new world and chapter in my life, I welcome with open arms and I awake eagerly each day filled with anticipation at reading your blogs.
  5. I fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be, handle most serious situations with humour.
  6. The greatest loves of my life are my children (ok, adult children) and grandchildren.
  7. I am passionate  about exchanging ideas, learning, and encouraging abilities.

10 bloggers with less than 1000 followers


Marilyn Armstrong

Love it Now




Trev Jones

Paulina angela

The Story Reading Ape

Sascha Darlington







What a descriptive word!  When  you say “slog” you hear the sound,  the gooshing of mud or snow, you feel the weight of the word as your legs become tired from effort!

I was sincerely and desperately lost! The map did me no good.  Here I was out in the forest, lured by my best friend who supposedly knew what she was doing!  Alas, I found out to my detriment, this was not the case!  We had trudged up monumental hills, then down.  We crossed two streams and a rushing river following what we thought was the path out of his nightmare.

As we slog through the mud I can’t help but wonder at that moment of insanity when I’d agreed to accompany her on this worthwhile but now futile journey.  Originally having acquiesced to raise money for another worthy cause, this one hers, we had begun with light steps and happy hearts. However, as the miles passed, my legs tired, my feet were sore from rubbing along the side of the oversized shoe.  The slog did not seem quite as worthwhile.

It would be dark in another couple hours, we would definitely have to stop soon and light a fire.  I wondered if she’d brought matches.  We must find a place for the night.  Luckily I’d brought a heavier set of clothes to change into or add on as the case may be.

She wasn’t speaking to me, she slogged along silently.  Miffed, no.  Angry, yes.  I’d chided not berated, or so I thought, but she’d taken it differently.  Perhaps she felt a tad guilty about the situation we were in.  We had to get out of this mess and her co operation was essential.

“Maggy, we need to camp for the night and soon. It’s not feasible to slog through the bush after dark.”

She stopped walking, I stopped alongside her.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”

“No need, my friend, no need.  We’ll start a fire, hunker down and make our way out at first light, right?”

With hope in our heart, and humming a song, we gathered twigs and small dry branches and started the fire.  We huddled close feeling the chill. Breaking out what little we had for bedding, we slept close to the fire, taking turns through the night to keep it going.

We were awakened by sound.  “What the hell is that?”  Noise, lots of it.  As it moved nearer, we identified voices. Hopping to our feet we stood and stared toward the direction the voices seemed to be  coming from.

Through the heavy underbrush, a dozen people, men and women surged.  A whoop of delight rose in the air so loud it could deafen.

“Alas the lost is found!”  One of the spectators of joy announced.

A grateful Maggy  delightfully relieved asked, “How did you know where to find us?”

“You left a trail a mile wide.  Couldn’t miss the slogging path you took.  What possessed you to turn left at the “y” juncture instead of right as indicated?”

We looked sheepishly at one another.  That was another story.







In 1904, Morocco is a source of conflict among Germany, France and the British Empire, as each attempts to gain influence in the country.

“The Wind and the Lion” weaves historic facts into violent fictional adventure.  Eden Perdicari (Candice Bergen) along with her two children, are kidnapped by Mulai Ahmed er Raisuli (Sean Connery) a Berber in Tangier. They are kept hostage in the rif, an area a great distance from any potential rescuers.

As their journey through the desert continues, Mrs. Perdicaris moves from anger when first kidnapped, to respect and even to love the Raisuli, if only a little.  He in turn, falls in love with her.

Mrs. Perdicaris proves a delightful match and often outwits Raisuli to his embarrassment and consternation. They are often perplexed at the ideology, stance, outlook and thoughts of the other.  Amusingly, Raisuli’s response in these situations, “Mrs. Perdicaris, you are a lot of trouble!”

He and Roosevelt (Brian Keith) communicate back and forth over the return of the Perdicaris family and in one letter, Raisuli compares the two men thus:  “I (Raisuli), like the lion, must remain in my place, while you, like the wind, will never know yours.”

Mrs. Perdicaris makes her escape into the arms of villains much less caring, and only then realizes her folly.  Thankfully, the Raisuli manages to rescue her.

The final lines in the film are delivered by the Raisuli on horseback with one of his men. He tells the Raisuli they have lost everything.  The Reaisuli’s reply is,  “Isn’t there anything in your life you would lose everything for?”

Hopefully you have an opportunity to enjoy this delightful movie.  It’s probably considered outdated by today’s standards, and that perplexes me, for a well acted film is always great.  Just saying!  Take care all.







At one time anyone with radical ideas was considered crazy, non conformist, ostracized, vilified, persecuted and even killed.  The accomplishment of radical thinking throughout history has produced remarkable results , bringing positive and productive changes.  Some “radical ideas” such as the Millennium Seed Bank Project, Engineering Solutions for Ocean Cleanups, Milan’s Vertical Forest Skyscrapers, Community Supported Agriculture and Rooftop Farming are such examples.

However radical ideas have not always been received with instant acceptance, often hard fought battles precluded that approval.

One outstanding example is the Suffragette movement.  Originally founded and led by Millicent Fawcette in Britain often including a militant approach others did not subscribe to, the battle cry went out.  A decade-long struggle intended to address fundamental issues of equity and justice began.  Support for the movement included Mary Ann Shadd from the Black Abolutionist movement, as well as socialists and temperance activists.

The campaign was taken up by women in many countries.  It wasn’t until 1900 in Canada that “propertied woman” had gained a footing and the right to vote or stand for office and even then on a limited scale.  Only able to vote in municipal council or library and school board elections, it was a start. The first provincial victory occurred in Manitoba in 1916 and later followed by Quebec in 1940 as the last province to concede the vote.

Denmark granted women’s suffrage in 1915 and near the end of the war, Canada, Russia, Germany and Poland recognized women’s right to vote and American women won the vote in 1920.

The radical idea that women were equals, could vote, and had a mind of their own, no longer considered chattel astounded, frustrated and angered many.

It’s difficult in today’s society to imagine a world without the significant contributions of so many women, too numerous to relate here.  Golda Meir, labour activist and fourth prime minister of Israel and second prime minister in the world to Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman to graduate from medical school. What of Gertrude Stein’s contribution in writing, or Rachel Carson a pioneering environmentalist?

From important to noteworthy to significant, women’s contribution worldwide whether scientific in nature, introducing provocative styles in writing, to flying across the ocean, this radical thinking brought about a fundamental change, outlook and acceptance.

Pretty radical, hey?









This was my special place. Whether anyone wandered these same paths or I walked alone, this was my personal vigil. My purpose, to imprint the unique and special appeal every season brings.  To mark the beginning of every season, I saunter through this picturesque location along a waterfront filled with luxuriant growth.  I can’t help but marvel at the changes and beauty each season brings, delighted at the pleasure and rejuvenation found here.

gettyimages-514288158-4500_wide-dd4803388b7a1e0d337e5cad400d167f546044d2-s900-c85Spring fills me with expectancy and joy as I witness trees bud and new growth form, a promise of things to come.  The lovely fresh aroma is so distinct with a piquancy in the air that surrounds, envelopes. Soon blossoms will bring their own delicate scent.  There’s a comfort here.




Ah summer!  Bringing warmth, a feeling of relaxed peacefulness with powder blue skies above.  Summer fills you with endless possibilities.  Thoughts of travel fill my mind as I saunter along the path.  As my gaze moves upward I take great pleasure in the canopy the leaves have created overhead.  The sun’s welcoming arms open wide, bidding all to partake in her joy while the ground below is dappled with sunlight.


Suddenly, it’s autumn.  There’s something about autumn.  Could it be that zing in the air, that infuses me with vigor and enthusiasm?  Leaves are vibrant, rich with colour whether yellow, orange or red.  Beneath my feet a few fallen soldiers lay.  They crunch underfoot as they cover the earth, their crispness adding  a punch as earthy aroma fills my nostrils.


winterOvernight it seems, winter is upon us.   I again meander down the same path across the same ground, now softened, hushed with a blanket of snow.  The sun’s warmth has cooled, but on such a crisp morning as this, provocative still, creating a  glistening dazzling show.  Somtimes stark in it’s beauty, at others hushed and soft, perhaps crisp and cold, it too has a zing.

As long as I am able, this path I will walk, in remembrance of seasons passed and those to come.