ruling commanding authoritative assertive forceful commanding pushy

BC Ferry forced to turn back after marijuana “smoke-in” protest of smoking ban

Yesterday was the first day of a new blanket smoking ban across all BC ferries and ferry terminals. The ban includes both tobacco and cannabis, and extends to ‘vape’ devices as well as more traditional forms of smoking.

Since the ferry service is essential to residents on Vancouver Island and elsewhere on the BC Coast, and because taking the ferry often involves waiting at a terminal for several hours in addition to the hour and a half long boat ride, some medical cannabis users have expressed concern that this new regulation violates their rights under the Canadian Charter of RIghts and Freedoms.

In response to this, cannabis youtuber Sean “Smokey” Grimey organized what he calls a “mass smoke-in” to protest the new rule by putting a call to action on his latest video. The call was a huge success, and over 600 protesters caught the 9 o’clock sailing from Vancouver to Victoria on Monday.

“It was terrifying,” recalls Captain Bill Lawson. “We were about halfway through the Georgia Straight when out of nowhere, it was like we had hit a thick bank of fog. From where I was on the bridge, you couldn’t see more than 100 feet in any direction.”

Meanwhile, smelling the unmistakable odour of people lighting up, several cigarette smokers who were also on board tried to take advantage of the situation by joining in on the smoke-in. Unfortunately, they were soon accosted by protesters who took offense.

“What the hell were they thinking smoking tobacco at a weed protest?” asks one protester. “There we were, peacefully assembled, exercising our rights and freedoms, and these tobacco punks just barge right in and think it’s OK to foul the air and poison us?”

It wasn’t long before tensions erupted into a full blown riot, which soon spilled over to the interior of the ferry. Extensive damage was caused to all public areas of the ferry, with the exception of the cafeteria, snack bar, and buffet areas, where orderly lines formed and record sales were recorded in the short time before the boat returned to dock.

“We had to turn around,” says Captain Lawson. “We were already considering turning around due to the lack of visibility, but the riot sealed it.”

Police were waiting at the dock, and over 800 people were arrested on charges of public disorder.

“It was a huge success!” exclaims protest organizer Grimey. “I’ll be milking free media out of this for months!”

Court dates for the protesters are expected to begin sometime in late March. Stay tuned for more coverage of the proceedings as they transpire.

Follow @verpmedia on Twitter.

Featured image courtesy of Ken Walker via Wikimedia Commons.

*This article is a satirical work.



Henrietta’s 300 word “Perspective”

I used to hate that word – perspective – it meant how you saw things wasn’t real, wasn’t true, wasn’t valued or validated.  It was just your perspective therefore it was only a possibility, plausible, but then not the real true answer.

Your perspective meant coloured by your thoughts, beliefs, views and therefore not necessarily a reality or true accounting of events.

It either happened, or it didn’t!  That’s the truth.  If I said it happened, it did. I’m not a liar as your “perspective” insinuates.  It insinuates that if there weren’t others present with the same accounting, the same story, then it wasn’t true, there were other possibilities and mine was a personal agenda.

How I hate you and that word.  You throw it around like it’s gold from the gods.  It’s not.  It is demeaning, shredding, horrifying, minimizing.

In reality, you are afraid to look at the truth, at what was said and done, at what really happened.  Why?  Because then you have to face reality and truth and therefore take appropriate action.  Action that means standing tall, backing someone who requires your assistance your help.  Someone that desperately needs someone to believe in them, to know without a doubt that they are telling you the truth, not that is “their” truth of the situation.

Can you not see the depths of desperation and earnest desire to be believed, not as a half truth, not as a perception, not as a possibility, but as an accounting of reality, of fact?

This is not a dream world in which make-believe characters play their parts and stroll off into the sunset, never to be seen again.  This is life!  This is reality!  This is truth!  There is no perception here.  It is what it is – a fact!

If so, count me in!



There was something about her.  When she sauntered through the market examining each item before placing it in her basket, heads turned as eyes casually watched her delicate movements.  Most often, she was unaware of the interest engendered, her mind elsewhere, perhaps on days gone by.

A wisp of a woman with whom an aura of elegance and grace whispered enticingly.  Yet, if you caught her eye, you captured a glimpse of mischievous impishness, a twinkle, a spark, immediately doused as if sharing that moment were enough.

I had the feeling that she had fought old age with fervant ferocity and even so, those days had passed by far too quickly and old age had finally captured her manic race against time in it’s inevitable web.

I could easily imagine her – young, vibrant, full of life and energy.  With each passing day, pieces had slipped away leaving the woman alone and fragile and yet not.

I couldn’t help myself.  I wanted – no – needed to know more.  Something told me hers was a story worth hearing and sharing and that knowing her would be the experience of a lifetime.

With that thought in mind, I walked toward her and started a conversation.  With time, we became fast friends until I was emboldened to ask about her life.

As days passed, she shared her experiences including moments of triumph and tragedy humour and sadness equally combined.  Her stories constantly invited more evoking moments of pure delight and a desire to have lived and shared her life alongside her, willingly partaking of the adventures of which she spoke.







Annie had lived on the small island for years. She loved it here.  Untouched 100 year old forest surrounded her home.  Their homes.  In total 500 homes dotted the island.  Everyone knew everyone’s business.  It was a given.

Her closest neighbour was a half mile away; elderly cranky, tough widow Laferty.  Having made an effort to get to know her, Annie knew the outer shell covered a gentle soul that shone brightly the more you knew her.

Foggy weather was common, expected, usual for this time of year.  Today however, as she gazed out over the ocean and watched the fog roll toward them, she felt a difference.  It neither felt right or the same, but held an eerie quality she couldn’t explain.

It wasn’t the colour, although that could be why feelings of unease rose.  A mix of haze, white on the outside but centered with a deep gray blue disquieted her.  This wasn’t the usual mottled gray plume she’d witnessed over the years and was used to.  It was menacing, menacing in a way she couldn’t explain.

Not one given to histeria or flights of fancy, the idea struck her as completely odd.  She turned walking inside her cabin letting the screen door slam behind her.  Picking up her half filled coffee cup, she returned to the clay sculpture she’d been working on.

Fired by the odd mood she worked feverishly without let up, moulding, sculpting, correcting, smoothing.  As she stood back to inspect her latest work of art, her eyes were drawn to the window.  It was formidably dark and she was forced to amp up the generator for added light.

Again drawn outside, she wiped her hands, poured a fresh coffee and returned to the front door. The eerie foggy mist had closed in surrounding the cabin and the trees.  It was impossible to see 10 feet in front of the door.

Still unsettled, Annie turned, grabbed a flashlight and headed outside.  She felt an unclear but urgent need to check on Mrs. Laferty.  Dawning a heavy jacket with a fleece lined hood, she moved down the porch and onto a well marked path.

It was impossible to hurry, the fog was too thick, yet she felt impelled to do so, as if she were being called.  What insanity was that? she wondered with a shiver that rolled down her body.  Still she couldn’t shake the feelings of desperation that dogged every step.

Noting the ground cover and signs of passing trees and underbrush, she knew exactly where she was, knew she’d reach Mrs. Laferty in another five minutes.  She listened as her feet crunched on a mix of gravel and needles.

She felt more than saw the gate to Mrs. Laferty’s home.  Opening the white picket gate, she hurried toward the door and knocked rapidly and loudly.  When there was no answer she tried again.  Three times in fact, each with more intensity than the last.

Suddenly the door flew open and a tall dark and mysterious man stood before her, dressed casually in jeans, heavy boots and T-shirt.  Her eyes traveled to his face, a beautifuly face, one any artist would gladly fervently sculpt. Shockingly blue eyes, dark hair with a fringe hanging over his forehead, dimples and swarthy skin met her eye.  He was eye-candy for an artist.

“Who are you?” she asked a mix of shock, appreciation and anger laced through her voice.

“I live here.  Who are you and what do you want?”

“I’m here to check on Mrs. Laferty.”

“She isn’t here.  Her kids came to take her to the mainland.  I bought the place.”

“When?  When did this happen, I was here only last week.”

“You are wrong.  I bought the place a month ago and moved in yesterday.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Not debatable as I’m obviously here!” he smirked an unsettling smile.  Not one of amusement or welcome, but decidedly unsettling to her mind and oddly her heart.

“Care to come in?”

“No, thanks, I was checking on Mrs. Laferty but since she’s gone, then, no need.”

“Oh I think there is a need.  Perhaps you haven’t felt it yet, but it will come.”

She stared momentarily, both intrigued and disturbed by the remark.  Lifting a hand in fairwell, she turned to retrace her steps.  She let the gate slam behind her and only then turned to look back.  He was leaning one arm over his head against the doorframe, his legs crossed nonchalantly, a smile on his face, his itense blue eyes watchful.

What was she supposed to make of that?  His remark, his virile looks and the studying gaze he watched her with?


It was a beautiful day.  The sun shone brightly overhead amid wispy clouds lazily making their way across beautiful azure blue skies.  Jennifer leaned back, on supporting arms behind her and raised her lovely face to the sky. Could life be more idyllic?

Life had thrown her some heavy-duty curves but she’d survived it all.  As a small child, she’ faced much adversity inside and outside their home.  Both parents worked long hours to provide amid a climate of uncertainty and worry. At times it had been lonely.

Her constant companion as an only child had been Ruffles, their short haired terrior who’d accompanied her everywhere on every excursion outing and adventure.  Her friends sometimes complained since he’d give their location away when playing hide-and-seek or grab their tennis ball and race away, ever reminding them of his presence.

Upon finishing school, her proud parents present gracing graduation and her final day amid much delight happiness and relief were hopeful she’d enjoy a better life.  Top of her class, job opportunities presented but she wanted time off.  She wanted to travel perhaps to Amsterdam, Norway, Sweden.  She was prepared to backpack through all of Europe experience other cultures, adventure, growth.

That was when she’d met Peter.  Tall, strong, fun-loving, playful. A godsend to a young woman who although having experienced relationships hadn’t entertained the idea of continuity or the possibility of commitment until now.  She longed for someone to travel through life with.  Her parents’ marriage was rock solid throughout the turmoil of lost jobs and opportunities.  They clung closely together and she’d always felt encircled by their love and affection.

Despite whispers, rumours innuendo regarding Peter, she gently moved forward with anticipation.  That was her mistake, her undoing.  He wasn’t all that he appeared to be on the surface. It seemed the rumours were true.

Heartache surrounded her as she packed her bags prepared to leave this place and all its memories along with it.  Lesson learned? she wondered aloud. Indeed the hard way. Looking beneath the surface would forever be uppermost in her mind.

This was not the finale, the end, but a new beginning she reminded herself.  Jennifer sighed as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Time would tell. And there was plenty of time, she consoled herself with a backward glance at all that was.




Cal found her intoxicating.  It wasn’t one thing but many.  Her effervescence, her joie de vivre, the way her eyes lit up when she encountered something exciting interesting or moving.  How tender her heart was, that moved her to run to any child hurt or crying to pick them up if they’d fallen down.

When he stood near, he was immediately lost in the scent of her perfumed hair, her long slender neck beckoned a touch a kiss a taste.  He was madly in love with her.  Could barely keep his hands off of her, wanted her desperately.

This was his wife, the love of his life!  The woman he adored from sun-up to sun-set. He could well imagine them in their 80’s and he’d still feel the same. She was the love of his life there could be no other.

He’d created a perfume just for her that embodied all of what he associated with her.  He desperately hoped his perfume “Amelia” would please her as much as him and evoke her pleasure.

Amelia knew something was up, the look in his eye told her of expectation and excitement.  She walked toward him a smile upon her lips, a question in her eye.

He held out a beautiful little bottle shaped like a diamond.  “You finished it?”

“Indeed, and what’s more, it’s yours.”  She lifted the perfume and read her name.

“Oh, Cal!  I don’t know what to say!  I’m completely honoured.”

“Try it, my love, see if it’s you.”

She did. And it was.  Perfection in a bottle she’d said before falling to the floor unconcious.  He looked on in horror!


Zany #AtoZChallenge #amwriting


2017 Badge

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of coming up with a new word for each letter of the alphabet, in my case “emotions”.  Thank you all for reading and hopefully enjoying. I look forward to the next time round.

Larissa was looking with eager anticipation to her first televised show, “Zany by Degree” starring, none other than, herself.  She’d invited a mix of some exceedingly well-known and more obscure comedians willing to participate. There was something for everyone, or so she hoped.

Her agent had suggested she bite the bullet and take an offer from a local tv station.  At first, she’d rejected the idea but after giving the matter serious thought, decided, what they hey, why not?

She’d gained a large following and kudos from some of the best who applauded her zany sense of humour and crazy off the wall antics even though she’d never stooped to vulgarity or swearing, her jokes seemed to leave them laughing in the aisles.

Everything was in place, she stood tall waiting momentarily – it was time.  She went to face the audience and welcome them all for attending.  Following her opening monologue, she introduced the line-up and brought her first guest out.

The following morning, her manager called and whooped into her ear, “Pick up the paper, read, read!” he extolled.

“Zany was right.  You can’t miss the next show, “a must” that will leave you feeling warm of heart and laughing for hours.”

She was tickled pink glowing with her first success of which she hoped there would be many.


Youthful #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Jessie was 91 and joked she didn’t look a day over 90 and proud of it.  What a ham, what a delight.  She held court three days a week at Marisa’s boutique arriving at ten am and leaving precisely at three considering her day well spent.

Her stories were timeless, energetic, scandalous (for her day), impromptu, and vital told with pizzazz and joy.  Perhaps that’s why she was so spry and her memories so clear. Even the young would sit enraptured by her tales. Wistful longing upon their faces perhaps seeing themselves sailing along on one of her adventures.  On occasion, Marisa was caught up in the story herself and felt cheated as she listened to Jessie’s delightful whimsical memories wishing she too had lived a doing or dare existence.  Today was no exception. Jessie was so vivacious, so infectious you wanted to be there, part of each story.

Perhaps one day she’d write them all down before it was too late and they were lost. Marisa was a bit of a story writer herself and hoped to corner her and suggest the possibility.  What a privilege to be her ghost-writer, re-telling each story exactly as Jessie had related them.

Jessie wandered into her home pleased with herself.  After removing her coat hat and gloves, she sat down in front of her table.  Looking down, she smiled.  All her stories were neatly handwritten in a beautifully bound book.  She wrapped it carefully in brown paper, wrote Marisa’s name on it and tied it up with string.

That’s how they found her, as if she’d fallen asleep at her table.  Marisa had sent a couple of local men to search for her as she hadn’t arrived for her daily story telling session.  They brought the book with them and handed it across.  Marisa dissolved into tears.  She’d miss Jessie, as would all her patrons.

News spread fast, and they gathered at the boutique to pay their respects.  Marisa opened the brown paper and saw the beautiful stories Jessie had written and shared,  staring in disbelief.  Her handwriting was exemplary, her tales immortalized forever.

The community paid to have the book redone, all proceeds to go to the Jessie scholarship fund for other eager young writers, many of whom were present daily.  A delightful legacy indeed.

Xenophobic #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Anna welcomed everyone.  She was a natural at placing regulars and new arrivals at ease.  Hiring her was the best move Frank ever made.  Youthful, vibrant, a seeker of life, that summed up a part of who she was.  Loving and caring following closely behind.

Other’s held the position before her, showing xenophobic tendencies (stranger fearing) as he described them.  Not so Anna, thankfully.  Every visitor to his humble abode was welcomed with open arms.  He found her a constant delight, refreshing, open.

Still, he hadn’t been able to make inroads into her heart.  With him, she was standoffish, distant, on alert.  He wondered why.  A gentleman from start to finish, he took his cues from her, responding accordingly.  Frank remained careful, holding her at arm’s length, never crossing boundaries or moving too fast.

He valued everything about her.  With time, he hoped she’d see him in a different light but short of asking her outright and endangering the fragile gift of friendship they currently shared, he was at a loss. Dare he risk losing her by asking for more?  Time, he’d give it a little more time and then he’d make his move.  Perhaps time would provide the answers he sought.




Warmhearted #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Daniel smiled.  He’d found her Achilles heel.  She was his ticket.  Being a great manipulator he always struck the vulnerable at their weakest point. Hers was warmth.  Ava was discerning, that was obvious.  Still, he was a better actor he was sure of it.

The warmhearted act had won her over, finally.  It was a fight, but he was the victor and soon he’d gain entrance into that glorious golden inner circle of the elite he’d ached to be part of since he was a teenager and first understood the have and have not principle.

Daniel was meticulous in groundwork and therefore did his homework.  There wasn’t much about Ava he hadn’t ascertained either through reading about her or through accessing her closest friends.  Each eagerly extolled her finer points.  All except Vanessa that is.  She constantly eyed him as though he was a bug to be crushed.

Little did he know that Ava’s friends had her back and while she hadn’t asked them to, they’d done some digging of their own.  What they’d found disturbed them to such a degree they’d called a “family meeting” and brought her to the office.

Ava was shocked when she saw all the stony faces.  “What’s up?  Something catastrophic occur in, the 12 1/2 hours since we last spoke?”

“You could say that,” Darren responded.  “Come, sit, there’s something you need to know.”

“What, it takes 12 of you to tell me?” she asked with a half laugh.

“In this case, yes,”  pausing for a large intake of breath he said, “read this, don’t say anything until you’re done.”

Dumpstruck!  Completely side-swiped.  This she hadn’t seen coming.  Well!!  Looking at the concerned earnest faces around her, the shock still evident she said, “Well!  Thank you.  Thank you for caring, for having my back.  I never thought…I didn’t do my homework it seems.”

“Didn’t want you getting in any deeper unless you knew what you were up against.”

“Thanks, thanks everyone.  I’ll take care of this, obviously.”

Daniel bounced through the door in eager anticipation.  Yes, this was his moment!  Ava had never invited her into the inner sanctum before.  Progress.  He was to find out otherwise very shortly.  Broadsided by a bus on steroids.  That was how this was going down.  Vaness smirked.  Poor form, but she couldn’t resist.  She’d disliked him on sight.  She’d saved her best friend from trouble and heartache.  Her word alone might not have been enough, but with everyone in attendance, it had been.

She nearly laughed out loud when the swagger turned into a skid and his face registered shock as they stood in unison surrounding Ava.  The jig was up. No easy way out now you creep, she thought.  Good riddens to bad rubbish!


Vulnerable #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Stacey had never felt this vulnerable in her life.  Sharing on an intimate scale was a new experience for her and yet that’s how she felt around Jake.  He was tall, athletic and a cop.  The last thing she’d expected was to feel vulnerable around him.  More than that, she hadn’t expected the relationship to go anywhere for any length of time.

She’d laid her cards on the table at the outset.  Having been burned on so many levels, she’d become cautious, wary, watchful.  With every man she met, she watched for tell-tale red flags.  Once beaten twice shy.

Although she’d never expressed any personal concerns at the outset, she’d made a point of stating open-ended for as long as the fun lasted.  Jake had taken a different path.  He’d been gentle, caring, strong when he had to be but had given her great latitude.  No strings, no quid pro quo, just kept giving of himself, opening up, allowing her in, witnessing first hand who he was.  No shields, no bars, no dead ends.

When she’d questioned him regarding anything, really, he’d answered looking her dead in the eye with unwavering honesty, a straight shooter from the start.  She’d been drawn to that quality instantly.  Still, there was more to learn, to see to feel. The idea was so appealing.  Somewhere deep inside, she yearned for that release of emotion.

Stacey knew she could lose herself in him.  Did she want to? Could she be that free? With each passing day, she let down her guard. Yes, she really did want that for herself, for her partner.  It was a goal worth reaching for.

Unsettled #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Shania Twain’s “Whose Boots” played in the background.  Anita sighed.  She loved her. Talented woman with thousands of songs that moved her to the core.  Her success was well earned.  Prancing around the dance hall to one after the other, making up and adding her own movements, her ballet style all her own, she moved with grace and elegance.  Her movements were fluid to the point of boneless.

“That Don’t Impress Me Much!” engendered a new thought and fresh movements.  Completely involved, she hadn’t noticed Richard arrive.  He stood on the side realizing she wasn’t aware of him barely daring to breathe.  Her interpretation simple, elegant with a little sauciness to boot. A beautiful spin on point with the song.

When she stopped he clapped gently then firmer when her startled eyes turned toward him.  “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“I figured as much. That was beautiful.”

Dabbing the towel to her face she said, “Thanks.”

His watchful intense look always unsettled her and gave her goosebumps. “What’s up?” she asked curiously.

“Saw the lights on, wondered who was here.  Might have known it was you.”

“Couldn’t settle after the performance, needed to unwind.”

“More dance does that for you?”

“More often than not.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“What does that mean?”

“Anything, nothing, everything,” he replied cryptically.

She watched him watching her.  Unsettled.  That’s what he did to her.  She’d rarely made time for men in her life and the ones she had were a mistake.  Still, there was something about him that got to her, heightened her senses, awakened desires she’d long denied, thrilling her with secret expectations.  Yes, he unsettled her, greatly.





Tolerant #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

2017 BadgeTolerant, thoughtful, tender.  The words on her headstone.  She’d lived up to those words and they’d served her well until that final day when tolerance had been her undoing. Greta hadn’t suspected he was anything other than what he purported to be.

Standing over her grave masked in an expensive auburn real hair wig, blue-tinted contacts, sporting a weight loss of 20 lbs she could ill afford, she sighed.  The life she’d known a distant memory.

George Armstead had provided an education, enrolling her in a police academy at his own expense where she’d received training and was now a full-fledged detective.

She’d taken the course because she’d always wanted to be a cop, more since the dramatic life altering incidents had forced change upon her.  Now more than ever she wanted to find the man responsible and George promised to help her when the time was right.  Ten years had passed and it was time.  Faking her death was the only out available.  He’d moved on to someone else.  George had kept tabs on his activities.  It had to stop, one way or another.  It was a pact they’d made years ago.

Deftly, secretly overtly she’d made inroads into his life.  She knew what he did for a living, that he had a family consisting of a wife and two adorable boys. Together they would put together a case to end him and his vicious insanity.  Karma was a bitch.



Sensitive #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

2017 Badge

Zoe was sensitive by nature.  She’d grown a hard shell of protection.  Advertising wasn’t for the feint of heart.  It took guts, stamina, intelligence, wit and knowing the difference and awareness regarding the current climate.

The banner across the stage was for her. Extolling excellence.  She’d earned it, every step of the way. Dogged pursuit of perfection along with high ideals.

As she walked toward the stage, she felt strong emotion emanating throughout the room. Zoe walked head held high, proud of her accomplishments.  Neigh-sayers could think what they wished, but she’d reached her goal honestly with integrity. No one could take that from her.

A few friendly faces raised glasses as she made her way to the stage. Some looked on with raised eyebrows. She took her place before the mike, ready to begin. A hush fell over the crowd as they eagerly waited.

Before a word was spoken, a blast reverberated through the building shaking its very foundation.  As she looked across the room, some made ready to run, others sat eyes flicking from person to person.  Some grabbed onto the hands of those nearest.

Security rushed the room.  “Stay calm, please, and follow us.” They were ushered to a nearby stairwell down three flights and through a back door.  Safely on the street, they looked back.  The building was engulfed in flames.

Zara made her way to Zoe’s side. They held hands.  “Someone planted a bomb.”

Zoe was startled. “Bomb?”

“Bomb squad is here asking questions.”

“Oh my god!”  Zoe turned white.


“I received a threat this morning, but I didn’t take it seriously.  I thought it was someone’s idea of a prank to unnerve me before the speech.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!  Who’d want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know.  Any more than I know why.”

“I guess I need to find the man in charge.”

She made her way to the man giving orders.  “Excuse me, I need to speak with you.”

“I’m a little busy.” Irritation laced his words.

“I think you’ll want to hear this.”

He turned and looked her in the eye.  There was something familiar about her but he wasn’t sure what.  “Go ahead.”  Zoe began her story sensitive to the nuances of what she was about to devulge.




Rattled #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

2017 Badge

Dana tried, oh my god she’d tried, but the man was insidiously short sighted and and “stupid!” she yelled out loud though there were none to hear.  The campaign hinged on the elegance and possibility, the nuance of romance in an idyllic setting.  It wasn’t supposed to be staged with robotic men and women.  No one would buy that, ever!

They needed a man oozing charm, elegance, refined but edgy.  A woman sitting nonchalantly at a table enjoying the setting sun, looking out across the horizon, possibly dreaming of meeting someone special.  A man worth sharing her life with, dependable, the essence of stability, reliability but with charm and grace. A chance meeting, unexpected, surprising, delightful.

Marshal’s idea was staid, dry.  They needed to kick it up a notch, they needed bold dynamic excitement, hinted at, suggested.  These clients were edgy but enjoyed a hint of romance in their advertising.  They weren’t into scantily clad men and women.  This was a step beyond what they expected but it was perfect.

Yet he second guessed her every step of the way.  He was impossible!  What’s more, she’d allowed him to rattle her, for the first time in her career.  She knew she was right.  Her senses were always on target. She’d study previous advertising campaigns, get a feel for the direction they were going. Her intention was pushing them a little past their previously comfortable outlook hoping to capture a fresher audience without alienating the classic long time clients.

Standing straight she marched into his office.


Quivering #AtoZChallenge #amwriting


2017 Badge

Sandy stood quivering on the water’s edge, oblivious to the gentle lapping at her feet.  She wasn’t cold.  She wasn’t overheated.  She wasn’t fearful. She was excited. Her husband was returning from overseas. Six long months he’d been gone, forced to finish up loose ends before joining her.

They’d never been apart this long.  Although they lived busy productive lives, their time together was simple, relaxed, intimate and pure.  She pictured it now, the renaissance of old and new.  A mixture of his world and hers combined into one.  Surprising how much she’d missed those moments of sharing.  Sometimes combative, sometimes coalesced, sometimes unforgettable. Always passionate.

Standing facing the setting sun, she waited patiently and impatiently counting down the  moments until he’d be by her side, the beginning of something new and fresh in a land so distant from anything they’d known. An adventure they’d chosen together.  It was time.  She hurried back to the house, slipped her feet into flip flops, grabbed her bag and keys and rushed to the car.

When Malcome arrived, the house was empty. Where could she be? He toured the house, peered out the windows. He couldn’t find any sign of her.  Surely she’d have gone to the dock to meet him.

His phone rang and he answered the unknown number.  “Mr. Greyson?”


“I have some terrible news for you.”

He listened in horror.  The phone fluttered from his grasp as he fell on his knees to the floor.  She was gone. It couldn’t happen it couldn’t! His love his one and only taken from him? He sat shaking, the quivering wouldn’t stop.  Tears dripped from his eyes as silent racking sobs shook his body.

Passionate AtoZchallenge #amwriting

Olivia was passionate about everything.  She just wasn’t passionately in love with James. Although they experienced some heady moments in exquisitely romance settings, something was missing.  They’d done it all together.  Skiing, climbing, touring country after country, sailing.  They’d exchanged everything meaningful about their hopes dreams and beliefs.  They clicked.   Really clicked.  For all that, it didn’t quite feel right.  No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t figure out what it was.

Just as she knew he was about to propose and knew she was about to refuse.  There was no rhyme or reason but for her, it wasn’t in the cards. Olivia was throwing away five great years and some of her most precious experiences.   but still, she held back.

James was fantastic on every level.  Smart, witty, rose to any challenge, had saved her skin on numerous occasions, been there for her through whatever ordeal she’d faced, but still, she held back.

What the hell was wrong with her?  Dropping her head on her palm she tapped it.  “Come on girl, think.  This is the deciding moment of your life.  You know it.  What is it?”  she asked herself aloud.

Passion.  He wasn’t passionate.  He merely went along for the ride.  She was the ring leader, the decider the adventurer.  She needed, wanted more. An equal, someone to fight passionately with who took turns taking the lead who could make decisions.

Sadly, she stared at her reflection in the windows.  She had her answer.







Vancouver BC “Spike” and recollections.

Although it was a rough year beginning to end and began with our move, (and on that very day) my broken ankle, followed by my son’s broken leg, my daughter’s deadly reaction to penicillin and her body’s complete shut down, my mother’s death and moving to Hardy, one memory still touches my heart.

Fireworks.  It was Vancouver’s annual fireworks show and we drove to a peak that would allow us a Premo view.  At the top of the hill, we could see Telus World of Science but will forever be known to our family as spike.

They lit the building in conjunction with the fireworks and the kids 2 1/2 and 6 1/2 said oh look, “spike”.  They thought the building was brilliant.  Although they enjoyed the fireworks, the building with its spikes took the cake.

We later toured the facility and hopefully one day I’ll have pictures developed as it was intriguing.

To this day, when we see pictures of Telus World of Science, we look at one another, smile and unanimously say, “spike”.

Optimistic AtoZchallenge #amwriting

Maria’s staff was holding together well, optimistic to the end.  Heads held high, they continued their work as per normal.  Today was D-day.  Except for a select few, no one knew what the board’s decision would be.  They held the fate of all the employees working at Lord’s in their hands.

Although a well-known name, their product had taken a nose-dive with the advent of the latest upcoming “upstart” as her boss called Fjord’s.

Maria had to give their advertising department credit.  Although pandering to the younger market with trendy new and promising motivational speaches had managed to steal away several of Lord’s top accounts.  “Reach the Unreachable” was their motto.

Lord’s catered to the experienced seasoned climbers, those with chutzpah and panache who climbed some of the noblest of peaks and conditions considered unscalable.

The marketplace had grown exponentially over the last 10 years but was currently experiencing a down-turn no one could explain therefore the market place was smaller.

All heads turned expectantly when her boss walked through the door.  No one was more surprised than she at witnessing his companion.  A hush fell over the entire group for standing beside her boss was none other than Damian Ranguild, head of the advertising department of the “upstart” company and bain of their existence.

As eye-candy went, he was luscious.  Some women smiled coyly but his eyes continued to scan the room until his eyes met hers.  She wasn’t sure whether to walk to greet him or make him suffer the walk of shame to her desk.  Maria waited.  Her boss’s face was flushed and he huffed and puffed behind the long ranging gate that was Ranguild.

Interesting, she thought.  Standing she held out a hand.  Instead of shaking hers, he held on firmly and kissed her fingertips.  If he meant to surprise her, he succeeded.  A knowing smile lit his face.

Love #AtoZchallenge #amwriting

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Rae was an expert on love.  You could ask her anything.  She proudly spouted the differences between each and the qualities pertaining to all eight kinds of love.  Having written an in depth article about how each kind of love affected a relationship and having taken the assignment to heart, she understood what the differences were.

Some were happy with erotic love but she knew that wore thin, most of her married friends agreed.  Her greatest hope was that she’d fine someone to be affectionate with first, so later on in the relationship, they cared about one another.  Of course, playful love was a must in order to keep a relationship going.

Yet love had escaped her.  You’d think she could find love easily, knowing what to look for.  Still she constantly mistook a man’s friendly affection for romantic love especially since she was the outdoorsy type who’d grown up with brothers and felt comfortable around men.  Most seemed to accept her as “one of the guys”.  Which she didn’t mind, it was good having guy friends to hang with, experience hiking, climbing and other scary activities a lot of her female friends couldn’t handle.

According to her mother who constantly ribbed her, her ideals were too high, she was looking in all the wrong places and she needed to stop behaving like one of the guys if she wanted to attract one.

What she truly wanted was a man who knew the differences and could communicate them comfortable within to be himself to display affection, love and tenderness too.

Rae wasn’t into trapping a guy (one of her mother’s suggestions).  She wanted someone who wanted her, who sought her out in order to spend time with her whether she was at her worst or her best.  Did this kind of package come in the male species she wondered.

Rae bounced between the two ideals.  One having that special someone to share everything important with, and staying single thereby remaining free of any kind of restriction on when and what she wanted to do.  It was a solitary life.  Somehow it wasn’t enough.



Kindness #AtoZchallenge #amwriting

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Jenny was delighted when she found a beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting in a lovely glass vase beside the front door awaiting her arrival.  Unlocking the shop door, she picked the vase up and carried it inside with her.  A magnificent vase of tulips, with pinks, reds, purples, yellows even a few orange flowers elegantly displayed.  She looked for a note and found none.

Placing the vase on a table by the front door so everyone could enjoy it’s magnificence, she wondered.  For the third time in as many weeks, someone had popped by early in the morning as she arrived to open shop at 8 am, to leave a gorgeous vase of flowers.

It was a delightful mystery.  A kindness she wanted to express her gratitude for.  Perhaps she’d have to become a PI and question neighbouring shop owners or failing that arrive early.

The following week, two more vases appeared, each containing a different variety of flowers.  She was no closer to finding out who the generous and kind individual was.  It remained an unsolved mystery.  She’d followed up, questioning the other shops nearest but no one had witnessed their arrival.  Since she was no closer to answering the question, she arrived earlier and earlier but was still unable to answer the question.  The days she’s arrived early, there were no flowers.

Obviously whoever was leaving them was as determined to remain a mystery as she was at finding out. So, the following morning, she left a present of her own.  A beautiful handmade card expressing her unending delight.

The following morning an even larger bouquet of flowers was left on the stoop.  Surprised delighted but concerned she pondered the situation.  It could be a client, perhaps a shop owner.  Perhaps it was a friend.

Across the street, standing just inside the stationary store, stood a gentleman watching the perplexed then delighted look flash across her mobile features.  He smiled.  She’d once handed him a coffee as they’d shared a seat.  He’d been down on his luck having lost his job, his apartment and wasn’t sure what the future had in store for him.  Her generosity in that one thoughtful moment buoyed his spirits and he’d renewed his efforts found work, a new apartment and moved.  He simply wanted to reward the thoughtful consideration that moved a stranger to offer him a moment of her time, a welcomed coffee and a few heartfelt but kind words.

A mystery was good for the soul.  He again smiled as he wandered away.

Colour Psychology Part 3


The Positive side of white creates barriers (different from black) but it can be a strain.  White carries a touch me not feel.  White has been perceived as purity and sterility and gives a heightened perception of your space.

The Negative side of white are the perceptions it is sterile cold has barriers and can feel unfriendly even elitist.  White can make other colours seem garish. If you’re using “winter” colours, strong bold and dramatic, stark white is the answer.  If you’re using “spring” or “summer” colours then a softer white is in order creating a unified effect. Having said that, as I mentioned previously, I used stark white with “sage” green and the green popped. For me, this is very much a personal choice. Since white has many nuances, again, choose one paint company and stick with them throughout so your white won’t change colour and become “off” white comparatively.


The Positive implications of brown (which usually consists of red and yellow with a large amount of black) creates the same seriousness as black but warmer and softer. Brown can also create warmth and is perceived as solid reliable since it’s the colour of the earth and the natural world.  (Oh, did I mention fun? Chocolate, coffee)

The negative impact of brown is the perception by some that it is suppressive rather than supportive because again, it is perceived as lacking in humour, heavy and lacking in sophistication. “Winter” people often detest brown and any shade thereof while “summer, spring and autumn” people welcome its versatility and find it warm and soothing.

In the past, centuries ago, the following examples are how colour was used.

Red was used to stimulate the body and mind and increase circulation

Yellow was thought to stimulate nerves and purify the body

Orange was used to heal the lungs and increase energy levels

Blue was believed to soothe illnesses and treat pain

Indigo shades were thought to alleviate skin problems

I can only speak from personal experience to say, I find red stimulating, yellow (unless a specific yellow unwelcome), orange energetic, blue soothing and calming while Indigo I am in love with (all its shades).

I hope that when you’re surrounded by colour, you’ll delve deeper into how it makes you feel whether its effect is positive or negative.  If negative emotions prevail, perhaps a colour change is in order.  Enjoy your

I hope this look into colour assists you in choosing your best colours and helps you surround yourself with colours that create a positive effect and introduce a little bit of fun to your environment.  If you are still concerned regarding colour, perhaps massive vase of flours, a few of each colour available will spark an interest and captivate your attention.  Besides they are always a wonderful way to liven up a room.

Children’s Perceptions

I had to share this as it was interesting and touching.

Little people grouse about chores and my grandson (9) is no different.  He didn’t appreciate being pulled away from TV to get firewood or kindling, although he enjoyed starting the wood stove.

A couple days passed and he was doing (hateful) homework and had to come up with a word to use in a sentence that rhymed with yard.  I suggested lard.  He had no idea what it was and rightly asked for an explanation.

We delved into how lard was originally made and he was fascinated.  This, of course, led to other questions such as what did kids did to pass the time, what games they played, etc.  It was a half hour well spent as I explained long ago, children had little time to play as everyone was expected to pull their weight in order to survive.  Not that they didn’t play, they did but the games were simplistic and involved co-operation teamwork and fun.

Families were large and washing was done on a rock and then washboard by hand.  Children got up, got dressed and began their chores which probably consisted of feeding and milking the cows, collecting the eggs then feeding the chickens as well as any other livestock.  This was followed by school and back home to help with whatever else was necessary.

Well if the kids did that, what did the adults do then?  So I explained that farmers tilled the soil from sun up until sundown, preparing the soil, planting and tending crops. Mothers baked bread, (they didn’t have fridges) but a cold room in the ground, cooked meals, washed clothes, and made their own clothes using wool that was hand carded, often sewing well into the night.

Didn’t they go to the store and buy their food? That was why a farmer tilled the soil explains I, which was sold or canned for the winter.  If it were a bad year for crops, it was a lean winter. Many people bartered trading (something of value they had for something of equal value) they required.

He then asked about medicine, brushing your teeth, and more.

It was an eye opener needless to say, and after giving the situtation some thought ( I saw the wheels turning) he remarked, “I’m really glad we live now.” To which I obviously asked why.  “Well, we have fridges, stoves, washers and dryers and we don’t have to kill our food to eat it.”  From the mouths of babes!

It will definitely be interesting to see if there is a change in perception about the few chores they have to do in this day and age compared to what was expected of children back in the day.

#AtoZchallenge #amwriting Jealous

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Maxxy was jealous of everything.  It didn’t matter what it was or who was involved or what they had.  She didn’t!  That’s all she saw.  Someone else had something new different, whether it was physical or a brainstorm, she wanted it and set about taking it.  She had no close friends.  She was cruel, vicious, mean-spirited and aggressive.  Then sat back and commiserated with herself about what a miserable horrible unfair world it was.

Many had tried, some hung in there longer than others, but eventually, they all left realizing it was a lost cause.  Their efforts met with cold austere dislike as she plunged a knife into their back desiccating eviscerating unappreciative and without any love or affection to redeem her shortcomings.

Today was her come-uppance as it were.  She’d had her eye on a new man who was smart attractive appealing.  For the first time in her brief life, she desired someone who wouldn’t give her the time of day.

Then surprisingly, he did. Delighted with the turn of events, she made room for him in her life.  Progress.  They shared delightful blissful dinners, evenings and nights.  Until she woke up and he was simply gone.  And with him, everything she had.  Her bank account was empty.  Her room ransacked and anything of value was gone.  She was empty.

Binoculars trained on her window he watched and applauded.  His sister, who’d been one of her victims was avenged.  He turned, smiled and walked on.

At a loss! Argh!

It is indeed ironic.  Here I sit (pen in hand) ok before the typewriter thinking, dang it, for the first time in my life I’m at a loss for words.  If you’ve been following my blog, you know I am writing a “work of art” (no less) haha about Eilea a stalker and her family.

Why is it ironic you ask?  Because I’d started this book eons ago and managed to get to the last chapter and my hard drive died, yes, with all 5 of the books I’d written on the hard drive, never to be retrieved.  I was so disheartened and dissolutioned, I literally stopped writing anything for well over 2 years.  I played my favourite on-line game VCO which I knew by heart so along with friends I’d made in-game, I could sail along my merry way and still have fun.  As long as the game didn’t change, and I could remember where and what you did, I was good.

Then one day my son told me about this blog and he knew how to get my book published.  He delved into it and showed me what was what.  I was eager to begin writing again, full tilt boogie.

After meeting all the fabulous people that made me feel like I belong and who have made me feel wanted, I can’t resist.  I check in daily and hang for hours chatting with as many as I can, viewing as many sites as possible.

Well, me, chatty cathy at a loss for words.  I’m in a dilemma.  My writing has stalled.  I have no idea what to do next, having written as much as I could from memory.  Now it’s a by the seat of your pants situation (which seemed to work well with Nathan) and I can’t remember how I got them from this spot to the actual excitement of the book.  Dang I say, dang!

So at this point, all I can say is, it’s going to take me a couple days to get this thought process on the go, so please bare with me if you’re following the story.  It’ll be snippets in the meantime until I can get my thinking cap working.

I hope that something profoundly exciting will pop into my brain either as I sit before the keyboard, or while I sleep.  Either way would be acceptable! So for all that have been enjoying, expect snippets, not the rambling pages so far posted, but I’ll keep at it.  I love writing, what’s not to love??? I ask.

I’ll go sit in my easy chair and try to come up with scenarios that work. It’s been challenging to say the least, trying to move the story along, while paying heed to all the characters involved (including teen age through process and emotions) as I haven’t been a teen in a long while.

Thanks to all who pop by say hi and who make my day by leaving a quick word or two.  I enjoy your company and relish the dawn of each day allowing me the opportunity to be here and share your stories, your lives, your verse.