If it’s broke, stop trying to fix it


“Each relationship nurtures a strength or a weakness within you.” ~ Michael Murdock

Have you ever had that moment?  The moment when you hear a quote and it sums up an entire period of time in your life that you had yet to define?  I just had a moment very reminiscent of that.

My marriage was a great learning tool in the school of my life.  I do not hold any ill-will towards my ex-husband but there were moments early in the marriage that I knew our relationship could be the recipe for disaster.  I allowed myself to ignore those blatant warning signs, took the wrong turn and careened along the highway of our marriage at full speed.  The bumps in the road got worse as the journey continued.  Soon, I couldn’t even navigate the straight stretches of the journey without getting dizzy.  It was then I realized I was on the wrong road.

Everything about our time together nurtured my weaknesses.  It became easier, as time went on, to not confront those weaknesses and keep some peace in the house.  After several months of pulling in my head and playing “turtle” I began to realize some very important things, not only about him but, about myself.

After spending a lifetime trying to “fix” the broken people in my life, I succumbed to the fact that I couldn’t fix them.  My ex-husband and the roller coaster of our marriage made me realize that.  This relationship which flagrantly displayed my weakness in the past now nurtured my personal strength.  When I finally awakened to that reality, once that awareness had seeped into my brain, my resolve was filled with a growing sense of power.

I took that power and changed my situation, and my life.  That relationship which initially nurtured my weakness came full circle and devoted its influence to my strength.  I would never have fully appreciated that strength had I not been weak at that fork in the road.

The Only Exception – 100 Word Song


My heart reserves room for one.

One person who will pull on my heart strings

and make the longing worthwhile.

One soul who will help me endure the pain of being apart when we cannot be together.

I had closed that door so long ago,

vowing to never open that portal again and risk another heartache.

I was safe in my cocoon,

happy in my solitude, content in my seclusion.

You took me by surprise.

You made me create an exemption to my own rule.

Your eyes pierced through my armor.

You melted my resolve.

You are the only exception.


Written for the 100-Word Challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.  This week’s song is The Only Exception by Paramore.

Be sure to check out his blog and add a 100-Word piece of your own!!

Juggling the balls of justice – Trifecta Challenge


The prosecutor stifled his laughter.

“Did you, or did you not state, Mrs. Bobbitt, that you would go free because the evidence would not, um, stand up in court?”

She was not amused.

“That wasn’t what I meant.”


Written for this week’s Trifecta Challenge – I’m really not sure why I chose Lorena Bobbitt and the misfortune of her husband’s manhood, but I did!  I apologize to all of the guys crossing their legs right now.

On now to our quick and dirty Trifextra prompt.  Plenty of times over the past two and a half years, we’ve given you the beginning of a story and asked for you to complete it.  This time, we are giving you the end, and we are asking you to start it for us.  We want 33 words in addition to and preceding the following:

That wasn’t what I meant.

So, to clarify, you write 33 words and then you tag on the five that we’ve given you.  Our five come after your 33 for a grand total of 38.

Feeling that warm Canadian glow



Our love for our country runs deep.  We, as a nation, bleed red and white and this morning I felt the vibration of a country celebrating in unity as the Canadian Men’s Hockey team took Olympic Gold.  The West coast rose at 3:30 am (or stayed up) to watch the puck drop at 4:00 am PST and the wave of Canadian spirit undulated across the nation.

During these winter games we battled and we fell.  We picked ourselves up and congratulated those who bested us.  We honored those who carved the way for new Olympic challenges.  We watched the families and friends of our Olympians cheer on our Canadian athletes in Sochi while we cheered from home.

We did not just celebrate our victories.  We celebrated our efforts in every sport and paid tribute to those willing to represent the best our country has to offer.  We felt the pain of those who came up short of their goals but we also felt their Canadian pride in their attempt to be the best.

We battled with the world, we won with pride and we lost with dignity and grace.  We leave Sochi with the same sense of self and the same Canadian values we had when we arrived.

An entire country will go to bed tonight proud of our Canadian athletes, their coaches and their support staff.  We will appreciate the thankless hours parents spend teaching these children to learn from defeat, to lose and to win graciously and keep striving to be the best they can be.

(image credit: karenfron.com)

I’m a Raggedy Ann in a Barbie Doll world


I have never been a slave to fashion trends, apart from those few unfortunate years in high school when big hair and “preppy” collars were all the rage.  Wanting to fit in as a teenager led to unfortunate wardrobe choices and spectacular photographic evidence that seems to keep reappearing.  Even the fires of Hell could not burn those outfits from my memory.  (Somehow I think the pictures and the negatives would survive incineration as well.)

80While the above image was taken from sweirt.com and does not do my teenage wardrobe any justice, I’m sure you get the general idea.  Nothing says 80’s fashion like big hair, neon and leg warmers!

After leaving high school and finding myself in the “real” world, I came to the realization that I could care less about fashion.  I was happier slipping on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and sliding my feet into some loose-fitting sandals.  While the girls around me spent hours teasing their hair, applying make-up and picking just the right outfit, I would be dressed and ready to go and waiting for them to emerge from their cosmetic cocoon as a beautiful painted butterfly.  I admired their dedication, I just didn’t understand their obsession.  Give me a tube of mascara and some lip gloss and I’m set.

I’m sure there were moments in my impressionable years that I wished I was more like a Barbie Doll.  Now that I can look at my life from an adult perspective I realize the world needs Raggedy Ann’s as much as it needs Barbie Dolls and I’m happy to be one of those Ann’s.

You better run – 100 word song


You came unannounced.  You stealthily crept into my head and strategically built your wall in the darkest confines where I couldn’t see you.  Like a thief, you stole my ideas.  You banished any character from entering my thought process and you murdered my will to write.

But I’m on to you.  I’ve seen the ugliness in your soul.  Your darkness is no match for the light that words provide.  My will to create is much stronger than your effort to suppress my creativity.

I enter each day more prepared than the next.  If I see you again, you better run.


Written for the 100-Word-Song challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.   This week’s song – You Better Run by Pat Benatar.

From the Horse’s Mouth, literally


Today was a creatively inspiring day.  Today I went from not having any neurons firing in my brain to a cosmic overload of things I want to talk about.

On Friday I wrote a post about my first crush.  It was a Daily Prompt that inspired me to write a cute, truth-based story in response to the idea.  I haven’t thought about that adorable, freckled-faced red-head for many years but writing that post made me smile thinking about him.  The story also encouraged me to check the vast world-wide web to see if he would appear in real form instead of just the memory of a six-year-old.  The result of my search was successful and way beyond my expectations.  It also took me in a few directions I had not anticipated.

I had reached out to him on LinkedIn and found that he graciously accepted my invitation, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, but he accepted nonetheless.  We exchanged a few words and he inquired about the blog post that led me to him.  I acquiesced and sent him the link.  His initial response after reading it was more favorable that I imagined and I was curious to see where his life had led him after our brief time together in school so many years ago.

The object of my youthful affection is a now a documentary filmmaker in Toronto.  He has won several awards for his talent, including two Juno awards, and is now working on a project that is far closer to my life than I would have thought possible.  His company is called Regular Horse Productions (he was formerly with Horse’s Mouth Media) and he is currently making a film about Massey Hall, a significant Canadian structure, a piece of history that MY ancestors donated to the city of Toronto in 1894.  My middle name is that same family name and carries on the tradition of the historic family that is etched into the arts and entertainment district of one of the most popular cities in the world.

I have yet to discover the direction that his documentary will follow but I will be waiting with bated breath to see how my family history will come to life.  I have three original Chatelaine magazines from June to August of 1964 that document and detail the pilgrimage and the ancestral tree of the Massey family dating back to 1531.  Perhaps one day Andy and I will share a coffee and some conversation about my ancestors that will help shed some light on how that beloved plot of land was donated so many years ago and still thrives in Toronto today.

And to think, this random connection almost forty years later began with a school-girl crush and a lost bunny……who knew?

The Voice Within – Trifecta Challenge



The Angel and the Devil sat on opposite shoulders spewing arguments around the head that separated them.

“I know I am the reason for her funk, and I’m quite proud of that fact.”  The Devil crossed his arms and a smug smile crept over his peeling lips.

“But it’s awful watching her frustration swell to the boiling point.  Can’t you ease up a little?”  The Angel’s plea fell on deaf ears.  The Devil was quite adept at tuning her out.

Without warning, the shoulders of the host body began to rotate.  Her arms reached forward, her fingers entwined and she stretched.  Her fingertips touched the keyboard and the Angel stood to watch.  Something magical happened and the Angel merely observed as the words began to etch themselves onto the screen.  A little squeal of glee escaped her lips as she turned to stick her tongue out at the Devil.

Now the Devil felt the frustration.  He stood and was about to embed his pitchfork into the side of the head when the Angel cried out.

“Don’t do it.  She’s writing about us!”

The Angel continued to smile as the Devil flipped her off.  They both took a seat on their rightful shoulder and let the creativity happen.


Written for this week’s Trifecta Challenge.  I have been in a writing funk of my own the last few days and after reading a comment by Ad-libb3d at 4:00 am, the lightbulb slowly began to shine again!!

(image credit: wallpaperswide.com)

Now onto this week’s Trifecta prompt. We’re back to one word, its third definition and the 33-333 word limit.

Happy Writing!

FUNK (noun)
1 a :  a state of paralyzing fear
b :  a depressed state of mind
2 :  one that funks :  COWARD
3 :  SLUMP  <an economic funk>  <the team went into a funk>
– See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.euwKt2HW.dpuf

The hamster on the wheel goes round and round…um, he’s dead Jim.


I have so many things that I want to say but none of those thoughts are willing to take the leap from my brain to my fingertips.  Writer’s block has built itself into an unending concrete wall and suffocated the hamster powering my thought wheel.

I have had these moments before, days when my brain was completely blank but, now as those days keep accumulating, I feel the weight of the winter blahs settling in and that feeling is compounding my lack of enthusiasm for writing and reading blogs.

I am determined to make my presence known in your blogs, once again, and reap the rewards of your diligence in your blog posting.

I need to feel the warmth of the spring sun on my face to revitalize my brain.  Mother Nature…..I hope you are reading this!!

What do you do when you have writer’s block?

First love


The Daily Prompt asks:  Remember your first crush? Think about that very first object of your affection. Oh, the sweaty palms. The swoony feeling in your stomach. Tell us the story of your first crush. What was it about this person that made your heart pound? Was the love requited? Change the names to protect the guilty or innocent if you must! No judgement here. Happy Valentine’s Day!


He had red hair and freckles and was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.  His name was Andy Keen and we were in the same first grade class together.  I was six, and although I was too young to really comprehend what romantic love was, I spent hours gazing at him across the classroom.

My family lived in a cozy neighborhood in Oakville, Ontario.  Back in those days it was safe for kids to play in their front yard and wander back and forth to the neighbors.  On my way home one afternoon, I saw a white bunny rabbit hopping down the middle of the street.  I was elated.  I had been asking for a pet rabbit but couldn’t have one due to allergies.  I scooped up the bunny and took him home.  I named him Thumper and was allowed to temporarily set him up in our home until we found his owner.   As fate would have it, his owner was Andy Keen.  At the tender age of six, I took that as a sign that we were meant to be together!

At Show And Tell the next day, Andy was at the front of the class expounding on the traumatic events his pet bunny experienced as a runaway on the hard streets of Oakville.  During his emotional tale, I was overcome by desire.  I ran to the front of the class and kissed him on the cheek in front of the entire class.  I’m not sure whose cheeks burned hotter with embarrassment, but I took off like a shot out the classroom door and left Andy standing in front of the whole Grade One class, mouth gaping open, completely speechless.

Our love affair was short-lived.  Andy was mortified after the Show and Tell episode and made every effort to run the other way when he saw me coming.   I hope his therapy was brief and inexpensive.  🙂