Bumblebee And Morning Dew
Morning Walk @ Euston Park – September 15th, 2018 Continue reading Bumblebee And Morning Dew
Author: paulaB
American born, Canadian raised, she/her, blogger, photographer, writer, history buff.
The Hill Is Alive With The Sound Of Him Singing
Come bounding down the stairs at work this afternoon, bursting with it, big smile on my face, so blawdy happy the one other American born co-worker was there to tell. Yeah, so the whole not watching any vids after work didn’t go so well. I couldn’t help it, seriously. I mean, Manafort, cooperating “fully and truthfully” with Mueller, in a completely open-ended agreement, to testify, … Continue reading The Hill Is Alive With The Sound Of Him Singing
Of Hope And Just Because
I’m an idealist, at heart, deep inside. I hate injustice, find myself anxious watching movies where there is an injustice, and one has to wade through the movie until it’s resolved. Can’t watch those types of stories, the waiting, the knowing it will work out, of course, it will if it’s a Hollywood film at least. Yet, some love those sorts of films. Don’t become … Continue reading Of Hope And Just Because
Alibaba And The Crazy White Man With The Backward Machine
“Oh dear, a reluctant guest.” My sister would have been maybe 4 years old, give or take, we were on our way to our Great Aunts for Easter, so up their winding drive we drove, over the horse grates, someone had put in years before. All dressed up, the four of us, and mom had just rung the doorbell, and the white double doors swung … Continue reading Alibaba And The Crazy White Man With The Backward Machine
haiku you
us, i, me, they, we can be more than he, so vote for democracy Continue reading haiku you
But Who Is Driving The Train?
The Station this morn came to mind, maybe more so as today marks 9/11, and the last time I spoke to mom was some days after, all we spoke about was that, and 6 weeks or so later she was gone, it’s been 17 years. I wished I’d said other things, but, there you go, ya never know. That Station, originally I saw it when … Continue reading But Who Is Driving The Train?
At The Leading Bleeding Edge Of It Are We?
When I pull back the lens, and just kinda squint my eyes, what stands out is the last gasp of the angry white guys and gals. I suppose as they see it, after 8 years of being led by a black guy, they see the rumpTus as their just reward, the F U to the libtards they loathe. Corruption and all the rest, Russian interference, … Continue reading At The Leading Bleeding Edge Of It Are We?
Oh, That Mythical American Me
I grew up fed on old stories of my Dad’s ancestors, of fireballs at a crossroads, and once he told me I would have done well as an Evangelical preacher on the circuit, as I have a particular tendency, I guess, to go all preachy. Just last night the word my girlfriend used was swamy, so it must be somewhere in my blood, some preacher. … Continue reading Oh, That Mythical American Me
The Madness Of The 45th
Back in the long ago, helium sphere days, when I was still married, and we were watching our best friend have his first bipolar breakdowns, one after the other for 3 years, with all the initial chaos, horror, disbelief, and being thrown head first into this whirl of madness. I remember the moment he appeared at our door, it was just Genevieve and myself, as … Continue reading The Madness Of The 45th
Amoral Muppets Make Martyrs Matter More
So, my question is, why now? Why speak up now? Some pundits have speculated it’s to do with McCain’s funeral over the weekend, and maybe something in the words, the images, the memory of a man unafraid to speak up for what he believed, inspired them. I too felt that way, watching those who spoke, tributes, and grand words, such as patriot, hero, courage, again … Continue reading Amoral Muppets Make Martyrs Matter More
Who’s Behind The Curtain In Crazytown?
“guilt spills itself for fear of being caught” Shakespeare Ok, so, would appear as though the hens are running that white-pillared mansion down yonder south, as the Rooster’s gone loco, gone, em, er more loco. Sounds like his aides have become daycare workers, wrestling the toddler from sticking a fork in the electrical outlets, and maybe not start-off world war III due to his complete … Continue reading Who’s Behind The Curtain In Crazytown?
Hell Hath No Fury Like When My Hosta’s Are Smashed
So, have I mentioned I hate humans? Hate might be a strong word, let’s say instead dislike. Why you ask? Well, because they can’t be trusted, have disloyal tendencies, self-interested, and you turn your back for one minute and they’re stealing your stuff and picking fights with one another, and right outside my door, trampling my garden, wrecked the Grandiflora Hosta, and left their friggin’ … Continue reading Hell Hath No Fury Like When My Hosta’s Are Smashed
Tell The Story, Of Death And Dichotomy, Amen
I’ve always mangled directions, never had the sense of it, can never find north, or which way I’ve been in relation to where I’m going. You know, the whole mall experience could get me all tangled up in no time, basically going back and forth the same way, walking into a store, and coming out and not knowing where I’d been, in regards to which … Continue reading Tell The Story, Of Death And Dichotomy, Amen
by PaulaB 