Monthly Archives: February 2015

It’s all fun and games until you can’t have a shower

8 Comments

I have been fortunate to live in this beautiful place called Muskoka for most of my life.  I was born in a larger city and we relocated when I was seven years old.  I left the comfort of my little town for a couple of years when I went to college and, when I could no longer stand the sites of the concrete jungle, I eventually made the move back home.

Friends from college still ask how I can live in such a remote location and I always respond the same way ~ how can I not?  I am not a city girl, by any means.  The crowds of people at any given time make me very anxious and the pace of the city is way too fast for my liking.

Being a “country bumpkin” and living in an old out-building of a farmhouse does, however, have its challenges.  I try my best not to watch the heat slowly escaping through cracks in the house by filling in holes and covering door jambs with towels to block the drafts.  I try to tune out the sound of the furry little freeloaders living rent free in my attic and my basement.  But the one thing I am unable to ignore is the frozen pipes after battling frigid temperatures for a few weeks.  I had been lucky until my return from home on Monday.  As much as they fought to stay warm enough, the pump and the pipes were no match for Mother Nature’s steady -34 Celsius temperatures without factoring in the wind chill.

Thankfully because I have been living this lifestyle for so long I am able to adapt but I am hoping to have the situation rectified by this afternoon.  Adapting to my lack of running water is one thing, this is why I always keep bottled water in my house.  But not being able to shower in my own home will soon become an issue and I’m sure my neighbors don’t want to see me “bathing” in the snow on my deck!

snow bath

(image credit)

My wish

10 Comments

fountain-coins

I wish, oh how I wish

that I could open up your heart.

I want to get to know you

but that’s the hardest part.

I know you from the outside,

your voice I recognize.

But the real you I’m looking for

is always in disguise.

Sometimes looking into your eyes

I can read what’s on your mind.

But then you turn, you look away,

afraid of what I’ll find.

I want to know what makes you tick,

what makes you run away.

I’d like to understand you,

there just seems no easy way.

My empty heart beats for you,

it wants us to be one.

It wants to heal the scars you bear,

to have the knots undone.

The seconds move, the hours wane,

and still you turn from me.

Still I wait, I keep you close,

awaiting what may be.

~~

(image credit)

Finding the hidden beauty

4 Comments

invisible sunrise

The sun may be rising

behind a curtain of clouds,

but it is still grabbing onto the horizon

and pulling itself into our morning sky.

The beauty may be hidden,

the stunning colors may be invisible,

but the sounds of a new day

echo what we cannot see.

Life begins anew as the sun comes up.

It rises regardless of any obstacles

and we can still feel its warmth.

Its light through the clouds is proof that a new day has dawned.

Even though it may not touch our skin,

we know that holds a place in our day.

And though we may not be able to see it,

we have faith that its hidden beauty is there,

waiting for that chance to peek through the clouds

and shine on us again.

 ~

(image credit)

Two Hearts

7 Comments

two hearts

Two hearts met again in heaven,

time and distance

could only delay their reunion.

Although they vowed to continue

on a journey to find love,

they only found the truest version

when their hearts found each other again.

Through spiritual realms,

their hearts still only recognized the other,

the one they had known,

the one they had missed,

the one they were meant to love.

Two hearts met again in Heaven,

and those two hearts,

are destined to meet

in each lifetime.

~~

Happy Valentine’s Day Mom and Dad

Ashes to ashes – fiction

14 Comments

heart-ants

She knew his heart would crash, landing right at her feet the moment she told him it was over.  What had been a fairy tale beginning had quickly turned into the twisted relationship only Dean Koontz could do justice in one of his macabre stories.  It had been tumultuous, to say the least, and she just needed to be free of him.

Over the course of their relationship, he had retreated into a cocoon inside his mind, fueled by the haze of booze and cigarettes.  She had not realized his heart had shrunk to such a miniscule version of what it once was until she saw it laying before her, cold and lifeless on the stony ground.

His face seemed to become more emaciated the longer she looked at him.  He had not reacted verbally to her accusations.  He could only nod in sullen agreement because he seemed to have lost the ability to speak.  She berated him, lashed out for each minute she spent wishing her life with him had been different.  With each bitter word she uttered, her Machiavellian intention became clearer to him.

She couldn’t tell if his eyes actually became bigger when he realized what was happening or if it just seemed like it because his body was withering at such a rapid rate.  His hair-line seemed to recede as she watched and his gaunt complexion resembled more of a skeleton than a human body.  She pulled the small doll from her pocket and lingered before she pushed the last pin into the woven material that covered its chest.  A small sigh escaped her lips and she plunged the final pin into the doll.  What remained of his skin and bones hastily turned to dust and fell to the cobblestone street.

She stood idle for a few moments and watched as the ants began to march single file through the crack in the stone.  Like a well trained army, they worked as a team to circle the tiny carrion and haul the remains of the lifeless heart down the hole to take home as a trophy.  Little did they know, the spell she had created would only allow that heart to exist for mere minutes after the rest of his body had disappeared.  The ants would get it into the hole but it would never remain solid long enough to present it to the colony.

As she walked away, she carefully removed each pin remembering the outcome that each jab had on his physical being.  She tossed the pins in the gutter and placed the doll safely back in her pocket, hoping, once again, this would be the last time she would need it.

~~

mutant750-wk

Written for the Grammar Ghoul Challenge – to use the picture above – Just a lonely heart by Marina Carvalho
is licensed under CC by 2.0,  and the word crash with the following definition – Move or cause to move with force, speed, and sudden loud noise

 

 

 

Getting to the root of the question

16 Comments

I am a natural brunette, or at least I was a natural brunette until sometime in my twenties.  Like my grandmother, my hair started to age before its time and I began to notice more salt than pepper at the roots surrounding my face.  I have been dying my hair since then because I refuse to go down the path of “aging gracefully” without a hearty fight.

Someone recently asked me what my natural hair color was and, after I finished giggling, I responded with “I’m guessing somewhere between alabaster and egg-shell white”.  I still like to think the hair color that I have paid for on numerous occasions reflects the age I feel and not the age I should look when I am eighty.

When I was younger I remember  hearing the belief that grey hair made men look distinguished but made women look old.  Along with every other changing belief, this is an outdated way of thinking and there are many women disproving this theory at an alarming rate.  One stand-out woman who takes grey hair to a new level of sexy is this woman.

Jamie-Lee-Curtis-image-3

Jamie Lee Curtis is 56 years old, a mere 10 years old than I am and she looks absolutely stunning having allowed herself to embrace the natural greying process.  Since the length of my hair in the summer months is very similar to her pixie cut, I have been tempted many times to put the box of “natural” color back on the shelf and see just what color my hair really is at this stage in my life.  Somehow those ‘Natural Instincts’ make their way to the counter every time.

Maybe when I hit that magic number, the big 5-0, perhaps then I will be ready to leave the color in the box, but until then it’s time to put those gloves back on and keep fighting the good fight.

The fireflies at the windows

6 Comments

We are rapidly approaching the last of the “firsts” since we lost my mom almost a year ago.  I stumbled blindly through my birthday last year, which was three weeks to the day after she passed.  We muddled through the rest of the birthdays in our immediate family, except for one still to come, and celebrated mom’s birthday by having her celebration of life on that same day.

Valentine’s Day will be a quiet one for me this year.  After my dad died, mom and I made a pact to be each others Valentine.  Even after I was married, mom and I had a standing ‘date night’ on February 14th because my now ex-husband always had to work at the restaurant.  She and I would go out for a nice dinner and always gave each other either a lovely arrangement of flowers or a cry-inducing Hallmark card full of sentiment that we both honestly meant.

My youngest nephews’ 12th birthday will be the last of the firsts.  That will be an odd feeling.  But it got me thinking about all of the other milestones, the new ‘firsts’, my parents may see from where they are, but will not be able to physically participate in.  This is the calendar year that my brother will turn fifty.  I’m sure nobody in our family ever thought that momentous day would come and neither of our parents will be here to help him celebrate and embarrass him with untold stories of his youth.

They will miss my oldest nephew, in just over a year, getting his G-1 (the Canadian version of the Learner’s Permit) and creating a new crop of grey hair on the heads of my brother and sister-in-law.  They will miss both of their grandchildren deciding on what field of study they wish to pursue and their subsequent University years and future careers.  And they will not be here if the Gods decide to shine favorably and allow me to fall in love again, the right way this time with the person who deserves my heart.  (although I know my mom will be doing her best to send that person my way)

fireflies

I know in my heart that both of my parents wouldn’t miss any of these events.  They will be those dancing specks of light we see at dusk, hovering by the window to watch our lives move forward.  It would just be so much nicer if they were standing right beside us to share in all of the new firsts yet to come.

 

 

 

 

 

The monsters in the closet of my mind

12 Comments

 

orwell

 (image credit)

There have been many writers before me who have been driven by the same demon.  I love words.  I love using them like paint and creating a wall of graffiti that truly represents me.  I love to dip my fingers in those words and rub them on the wall with the freedom of a child learning how to paint.

Writing this blog has been such a wonderful experience for me.  I can write each day about whatever my brain sees fit to write about that day.  But the more time I spend with my blog, the less time I spend trying to struggle through that painful illness of writing my book.

Maybe this blog is teaching me something.  Perhaps knowing I can devote time each day to my blog means that I am capable of changing that focus and spending the time trying to bring the characters of my novel to the finish line of their bizarre journey.

I get you, George.  Time to face that Demon head-on!!

Grab the eraser, the blueprint is changing again

13 Comments

“We must be willing to get rid of the life we planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” ~ Joseph Campbell

~~

We are all designers and if I have learned anything in my 45 years on this revolving orb of surprises it is that life never goes according to our intricately drawn plans.  Maybe it is the shifting tides or global warming or an ill-timed sneeze in the wrong direction that erased the lines we had drawn on our personal architecture but the structure of our life always ends up being different from what we had originally anticipated.

blueprint1

Somewhere between concept and construction, the lines of communication are interrupted and life continues with one plan while we are left scratching our heads looking at the original drawings and wondering what happened.  Life is never exactly what we imagined.   And if yours is I applaud you and you can stop reading because this will have no bearing on your perfect life.

Adapting to change is something we are all too familiar with – the capability to shift our focus and rebuild a few walls to maintain the structural integrity of our lives is of key importance.  The giant eraser of fate can remove one small line in the rendering of our life and change the bones of the entire skeleton of our reality but it is how we learn to live the life that was meant for us that makes us successful.  Being able to leave the old drawings behind and start building again based on the updated sketch is what life is really about.

Maybe those blueprints we so carefully drew helped to build the foundation of our life but I’m willing to bet a little something called fate is going to fill in the rest of the lines for us.

How close is your life now to what you thought it would be?

Put your heart to paper

4 Comments

Valentine’s Day has always seemed, to me, to be so commercialized. Stores begin building their storefront windows with lavish hearts, teddy bears, cards and flowers to lure you into the belief that love comes with a price tag.  But Hallmark has gone above all of the tangible commissary items and done me in this year.  They have a new campaign that has me buried under a mountain of used tissues and it is simply wonderful.

It is easy to say ‘I love you’.  We can utter those words without really giving them a second thought when we are in a relationship.  But Hallmark asked several couples to describe their partners without using the word ‘love’.  The results are overwhelmingly emotional and the video below is only one of the couples interviewed.

I don’t have a lot to write today because every time I think of this video, I cry.  This couple is asked, after 56 years of marriage, to describe their partner without using the word love.  This is what every person in the world should experience.  A love that could swallow the alphabet a million times but not be able to form a sentence to do it justice with words.

Maybe my goal of finding that love is too lofty. But I call bullshit.  I’m not willing to settle for any less because this type of love should be felt by everyone at least once in their lifetime.   The type of love that simply makes you happy and makes you regret nothing.   The type of love that makes you crave that person every second you are apart and makes you appreciate everything that is different because it compliments who you are.  Sure it will never be perfect, but love rarely is.  Love is a struggle.   Love is about compromise.   And, at the end of the day, love is about knowing you are in the right place with the right person.

Damn you, Hallmark…..where is the tissue?