Category Archives: life

Reach out and touch someone

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For those of us old enough to remember, this was a slogan for AT&T that was coined in 1979.  It simply encouraged people to pick up the phone and call their friends and family, to reach out to those who meant the most to them.

As I was driving to work this morning I was thinking about all of the great friends I have that I never get to see, or talk to, during the busy summer months.   For me, working in the hospitality business is great.  There is an influx of people with a myriad of personalities that make each and every day a veritable smorgasbord of entertainment.  But at the end of my shift, as I ease my wearied bones into my car, the cacophonous thunder of voices that surrounds me during the day is quieted.  I am soothed by the sounds of silence and the last thing I want to do is go out to a noisy bar or add to the number of hours I have acquired on the phone during the day.

I lose touch with those familiar voices for a few months, but instead of wondering why my list of recent calls never displays their number, I get it. They, like me, see countless people day in and day out and, after a long day at work, want only the dulcet harmonies of nature to fall on their ears and nothing more.

reach-out

(image credit: telephone.com)

The madness of summer is now a distant speck through the rear-view mirror.  As we forge ahead into fall, the friends that I have not seen begin to come out of their hibernation and we slowly assimilate to life as we remember it.   This morning I came out of my cave, yawned and stretched and went in search of the sustenance that my friends provide.  I reached out, touched someone and reconnected with those voices from my not-so-distant past.  Soon the wine will be opened and those soothing voices I have longed to hear will once again infuse themselves into my reality.

After the storm – Trifecta Challenge

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From her loft she could see the crown of the hill.  The wind had gnarled the trees and tried to tether their branches but their trunks remained rooted in defiance.  The storm lost.

bluffers-park_trees-above-clouds_01

(image credit: topleftpixel.com)

Written for the weekend Trifextra Challenge:

This weekend we’re asking for 30 of your own words plus the three following words for a total of 33 words.
Tether Loft Crown

Turning left

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From mid-June to Labor Day weekend, for all intents and purposes, I live in a city.  Our dormant, sleepy town of 1000 grows exponentially with the summer residents who flock to Muskoka and our numbers burst at the seams sometimes feeling like 50,000 residents.  Unfortunately, unlike a city, we are not blessed with more than one lane of traffic in each direction so something as simple as turning left onto the main street is most often unforgiving and arguably frustrating.

To keep up with the non-stop stream of unfamiliar faces, local stores expand their business hours to keep up with the ever-increasing population.  Faces I recognize can only be found shopping for groceries after 9:00 pm long after the collective band of tourists have closed themselves behind their expensive doors for the night.

I wrote a post about how life changes in our little gem of a town but yesterday my world regained some semblance of normal.  Yesterday I drove away from work knowing that my drive home was going to be different.  My car meandered through the canopy of trees that mark my way home and when I got to the end of the road something magical happened.  The echo of my car signal bounced through the car as I looked left and right and saw nothing.  There was no waiting, only foot to the gas, the easing out of the clutch and a seamless entry onto the main street.  I felt my demeanor change instantly because I knew we had survived another summer.

empty streets

(image credit: margaretperry.org)

As I drove through town I looked at the lakes on either side of the bridge.  There was no congestion on the lakes or a myriad of boats fighting for docking space.  I’m sure if I stepped out of my car there would only be the distant hum of a lone engine or two.  Peace had swallowed our town and digested any remnants of the craziness from the last two months.  The silence will be short, however, as the masses will return for weekends until Thanksgiving, but, until then, locals can finally have a chance to regroup, to de-stress and to enjoy the sounds of nature that have evaded us for two months.

Of Mice and Alarm Clocks

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Living in an old out-building of a farmhouse has its perks.  My house has character.  My house has a unique look that will never resemble the cookie-cutter variety of subdivision homes but my house also comes with unwanted roommates who do not pay any rent.

My humble abode is home to a few wasps nests, a veritable plethora of spiders and an array of undefined insects that have yet to be identified on Google.  My basement resembles something akin to the Red Room in Amityville Horror and the holes in the foundation outweigh the number of windows and doors that access the main floor of my dwelling.

For the past six mornings, at precisely 5:30 am, mice, or a similar sub-species of rodent, have entered my home through those portals and begun to prepare for the foreshadowing winter.  My peaceful slumber has been rudely interrupted by the scurrying of tiny clawed feet and the incessant chewing that comes with building a nest.  There is no soft music to ease me from my sleep, merely the echoed sounds of ravenous vermin slowly dissecting the inner sanctum of my shelter.

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(image credit: roundedoff.com)

As I lie in the comfort of my bed, wrapped in my duvet with my dog sleeping by my feet, several thoughts formulate in those moments before dawn actually meets the day.  I imagine myself engaging in a battle, riot gear at the ready for an all-out war against the dextrous creatures but then reality sets in.  Apart from ripping through the drywall to catch the furry infidels in the act, I am at their mercy.  My best defence is the pounding of my fists on the wall at the location where the noise resonates.  There is an angered rebuttal from the other side of the drywall and the chewing continues.  After many botched attempts to dissuade the whiskered pests from literally eating me out of house and home, I resign myself back to my bed and pull the pillow over my head to drown out the sound of my walls disintegrating.

There will come a day that my alarm clock will once again gently rouse me from my dream state and replace the sound of minute mammal incisors depleting the layer of gypsum board that helps to hold the roof over my head.  Until that day I can only hope those tiny furry creatures will understand the rules of mortgage payments and interest and leave their contribution before they begin another day of padding their nest with my drywall.

Liar, liar, pants ablaze with molten embers

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We are all guilty of telling a white lie or two.  If you say you have never stretched the truth to save a friend from feeling down you would most likely resemble the subject line of this post.  Lying is an unavoidable part of basic human nature and one of the simplest atrocities to rectify.

As we each navigate our way through this journey called life, falsehoods can often obscure our course and cause us to spend countless hours, days, even years getting back onto our original path.  Undoubtedly the person guilty of sharing that erroneous information did not have malicious intentions but did not take the time to thoroughly gauge how much that untruth may affect the person it was bestowed upon.

Making a simple fib into an honest admission is a peculiar concept but one that is so easily attainable.  If you’re going to say something that matters, you need to deal in the truth.

I urge everyone to see Jim Carrey in Liar, Liar.   Although presented in a humorous way, its message is so revealing.  What could our planet become if we were all forced to give honest answers to every question that was posed.  (Think of how our system of government would be altered!!)   Telling a lie will appease you in the now.  Telling the truth, although difficult, will benefit both parties in the end.  A true friend will appreciate your honesty and know that you have their best interest in the depths of your heart.

Dealing in fact and reality is a harsh imposition but one that could exponentially increase the authenticity of all of our relationships.  Something as simple as being honest can lend credence to the foundation of a friendship formed on that very ideal. Hold fast to your sincerity.  Let it breathe new life into your conversations and let the words that fall from your tongue drip genuine truism.

Be gentle but, in the end, be honest.  There is no better gift you could give the people you hold closest to your heart.

Written in response to the Daily Prompt.

Blue Shoes – A picture is worth 1000 words challenge

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Written for the Weekly Writing Challenge

alone-on-the-playground

Photo by Michelle Weber

She liked to call it the Magic Wall.  The reflection in the window changed each time she spun around and always showed something vastly different from her reality but the thought of life beyond her prison made her smile.  She had always had a vivid imagination for a child.  Everyone told her that.  She loved to live in worlds in her mind, far removed from the day-to-day life in which she found herself immersed.  The chain link fences and concrete yards were a harsh world for an orphan.  She was convinced that only she could see the colors on the carousel and that one day the animals would come to life and take her out of this dark place.

Although her Hello Kitty jeans were new, she could feel the cement on her feet through the holes in her shoes as she pushed once again to spin around and see what the magic wall would reflect.  The windows of the house were beautiful and she could almost smell the scent of pine coming from the trees.  This was no ordinary house.  She knew this house was a home.  Inside of those walls lived laughter and love and warmth.  She wanted so much to find a home – something far removed from the brick building and cold walls where she spent countless days waiting to be found.  She knew that home had a mom who baked cookies.  She knew that home was where hugs were given freely and where tears were wiped away by something other than the back of her own hand.

The lifeless creatures held fast to their position as she spun once more.  As the carousel came to a stop she noticed that the image in the window had not changed.  Never before had she seen the same picture twice.   She turned the disk a quarter turn so she was no longer facing the wall that she now thought was broken.  She pondered what this signified. Was the magic gone?  Would the colors of the creatures cease to exist and her world become monochromatic?

She heard the high-heels clicking on the pavement before she saw anyone approaching.   Slowly she looked up to see the woman in the pretty blue shoes.  She was positive she had seen this lady before and seeing the brilliant color on those shoes made her realize that the palette of her world was not going to be shades of grey.  The woman was speaking to her and it took a moment for the words to filter through her ears to her brain.  She was no longer an orphan.  This woman with the brilliant royal blue shoes wanted to take her home and give her a family.

Happiness traveled through every part of her small child-like frame.  She spun around again and again, giggling as the blue shoes raced past her vision each time she circled by the woman who came to save her.  As the ride slowed and finally came to a stop she looked at the magic wall for the last time.  The reflection in the window showed nothing more than the chain link fence and corrugated sheet metal that had surrounded the only playground she had ever known.  The woman stood next to her and they grasped each others hand.  As they left the playground, the woman pulled out a picture of where they would live together.  It was the house from the magic wall.   She could see the warm light cascading from the windows in the photo and already felt like she was home.

She glanced over her shoulder as they rounded the corner and took one last look at the carousel.  The faded grey and white characters that had once been so vivid in her head now appeared as they truly were.  She was sure she saw one of them wave good-bye but she was too focused on the most beautiful blue shoes she had ever seen.

Slices of life – Trifextra Challenge

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A million pixels of beautiful light – slivers of reality connected to create a bigger picture.

Life’s spectral portrait can be cherished in its entirety or by seeing each day for its individual beauty.

***

pixels

Written for the weekend Trifextra Challenge:  But in an effort to try to steer you guys back into the light and save the darkness for another month, we’re switching gears a bit this weekend.  This weekend’s prompt is to write 33 words exactly inspired by the photo project by Eirik Solheim.  Each slice of the photo compilation is a different day of the year, taken from the same location.

When worlds collide

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I have a friend, not the imaginary kind that you invent to talk about yourself, but a real friend who has recently begun dipping her toes back into the dating pool after leaving a bad relationship.  Trust me, if I were talking about myself I would be splashing the headlines of this blog with the water from that pool.

Like all swimmers, she has been testing out different areas of the dating pool, attempting alternate swimming strokes to see which swim is most comfortable for her.  Recently the seemingly Olympic sized swimming pool shrunk down into an inflatable pool you would find on any front lawn and a few worlds collided in the process.

pool

(image credit: xminflatable.com)

When you live in a small town, anonymity and dating do not go hand in hand.  Even if you find a secluded spot to spend some time getting to know each other, inevitably someone you know will be a witness to that moment and your secret rendezvous is no longer a secret.

She has been casually dating a few men sporadically and had accepted an offer to go out for drinks from a new potential suitor.  Being the aforementioned small town, we really have only one restaurant / bar that is a desired spot to take a date.  They decided to begin with a  cocktail on the outside deck, shades on, and enjoy the view of the water but her view suddenly shifted to one of her other swimming partners on the deck with a new date of his own.  The waters may have churned momentarily but her date was moved indoors for dinner and avoided any further discomfort.

On the way to the table she noticed a familiar face seated at the bar.  Another swimmer from her dating pool was deeply ensconced in a conversation on a date of his own as well.  Worlds collided again and the size of the dating pool had just become a Dixie cup!  Like mature adults, each of them went on with their dates never revealing that anything was strange about the three of them being in the same restaurant, each on separate dates.

Being in the dating pool is a challenge.  You can tread water for great lengths of time before encountering another swimmer or the pool can immediately be inundated with other swimmers also testing the waters.  There is no judgement, only curiosity.  There are no rules only requests for safety and respecting the others swimming space.  I admire her for being in that pool and can only hope she will find the one swimmer that will match her speed and agility throughout her life!

A Broken Heart

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There are three things I know about a broken heart.  The first is it will heal.  The second is it will heal.  The third is it will heal.

~

Written for the weekend Trifextra challenge:  This weekend we are asking you to play around with the following quote:

Three things in human life are important. The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind. –Henry James

We want you to follow the same general structure of the above quote.  Feel free to change the subject–tell us what’s important about coffee or houseplants or whatever you’d like.  Or else change up the modifier–instead of telling us what’s important, tell us what’s sexy or overrated or pernicious.  Your last three lines should closely echo James’s, giving us the same answer three times. – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.7JTIHbF7.dpuf

The countdown begins

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“Do not let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace.”

~ H.H. The Dalai Lama

It never ceases to amaze me.  Human behavior, whether good or bad, has enough energy to directly affect our own sense of self.  I am a calm person.  I have always had a great sense of peace about me and am quick to find the good in situations and in people.  But my faith in human nature takes a strong nose-dive when tourist season begins.

When you grow up in a small town or a small community, there is a true sense of peace knowing your neighbors and being familiar with those around you.  You learn to expect a certain level of camaraderie and happiness.  The members of the community embrace you and are quick with a smile and a genuinely warm hello.

With the arrival of the Canada Day long weekend, that seems to have changed.  No longer will you find the locals out shopping at all hours of the day and carrying on conversations as if nothing were more important.  Now those locals are hidden behind the doors of their homes, emerging only in the early hours of the day to do their shopping to avoid the onslaught of tourists.  The freedom of being able to enjoy our tiny town has vanished.

crowd

(image credit: theinertia.com)

I ventured out too late this morning and became caught in the vortex of that familiar angst and cynicism that seems to travel North on Highway 400 and vacation here during the months of July and August.  Everyone is in a rush to get everywhere and tempers are short.  I arrived at my familiar grocery store, exited my vehicle and my eardrums were pierced with two unfamiliar voices arguing about the angled parking  job of one of the overwhelmingly expensive vehicles in the parking lot.  I guess the memo about relaxing while on vacation was never sent!

We, as a community, have 10 short weeks to ‘make hay while the sun shines’, as the old saying goes.  For as much as these tourists treat us as an inferior breed of humans, they are a grand part of our existence.  So we grin and bear it….and we begin the countdown to Labor Day Monday.

Like animals emerging from hibernation, we allow ourselves to come out of our homes and once again greet the land and our surroundings after that glorious September long weekend.  We take deep breaths of fresh air and greet our friends with a smile, having survived another two months of insanity.  The local pub patios are packed with locals happily waving at the cars as they make their way back to their concrete jungle.  On rare occasions, streakers have been known to hit the streets with signs, wishing the tourists a safe ride home.  (well, it may have been worded differently, but you get the idea).

Until that day comes, I will do my best not to let the stress of these visitors infect my happy disposition.  66 days to go….but who’s counting??