Ones Hometown can often be this entangible thing over time. Changing, growing, or atrophying from the core out. I grew up just 20 minutes outside of London, and I lived in London from 1987 until just after Mom died in 2001. I’ve been away ever since. In that time, but for brief visits back, I have seen the main streetscape in London change and decay. … Continue reading On Returning to my Hometown
I awoke really early this morning, and couldn’t imagine wasting another precious moment lounging about. So at 4AM there I was with my coffee thinking… What Do I Want to Write About Today? AUSTRALIA was the first thing that came to mind. So be it, I will Make It So. The person I was then was full of hope and dreams of greatness, big or small. I … Continue reading My Doppleganger Strikes Again
I was outside at work partaking in a cylinder of sin the other day, chatting with a co-worker, and I mentioned how I’d given this woman I saw at the bus-stop that day a bus ticket. I explained how she was on her way downtown to speak to her caseworker, and to see if she could get $10. She quickly mentioned how she was hoping the … Continue reading How I Was Humbled By Joy
“Look, I’ve got a bit of my paunch back”, I just said to the 2 dimensional representation of him, or us. Taken one night, in some far away land now. One thing I’ll say for Tim, he loved ALL of me. Warts and all. Big, small, toothless, and the rare bit of clueless, he loved all of those parts of me. I know this, by … Continue reading Looking for Dimensions
Sitting on my stoop yesterday morn, with my cylinder of sin, I realized that finding a cave to hole up in at this time of year is a rational enterprise that stretches back into the human consciousness for thousands and thousands of years. Keeping in ones cave is not a bad thing as we creep towards the depths of December. I’m lucky enough to have … Continue reading Within the Cave
Intense is the red wine stain on my new carpet. Intense is the emotions that riddle my waking mind & spirit. Intense is the last few years of my life, the emotions they have conjured and the state of mind that now finds me slightly adrift. Intense was the hangover that is a product of that red wine stain. Intense is the sadness that permeates … Continue reading Daily Prompt: Intense
It was 3AM when I got the call. It had been an odd day. Out of the blue, or so, it seemed at the time, this volunteer lady with VON just somehow called me, and she drove me back that day to the cottage from the hospital. As she was driving me, she goes “now I have insomnia, so don’t you hesitate to call me, … Continue reading Hazey Dayz and Angelz
When my sister and I were growing up, every few years we’d go down and visit our Dad’s family – Grandma & GrandpaN, CousinC & UncleN, and AuntJ, supported by a whole cast of other characters and cousins. It was quite the experience to journey down into the heart of the Old South. There is a vibrancy & simplicity in many areas of Eastern North Carolina. … Continue reading Honouring the Mud Duck with a Roast
As a new writer who’s now working full-time, if not for the Daily Prompt this space would be a ghost town. I’ve found it difficult lately to find something worthy of blogging about. Then, if I have something to post, finding the peace and quiet to actually write it can be a challenge. Whether via the Daily Prompt or the Weekly Photo Challenge, I am … Continue reading On Prompts & Writing
My days have shifted, and I’m currently working afternoons. I’m a morning person, therefore I find myself restless; to the benefit of Irish who gets her walk in the morning instead of the evening. Yesterday my world was covered in a mist of fog, creating a soft morning light. Irish and I hadn’t been out for a walk in the morning in ages, since probably … Continue reading In the Misty Morning Light
I was recently wondering, and not for the first time, where I would be now if I had not met Tim. Back on that Thursday, October 3rd of 2008, what would be different now? At the time I was a sad, lonely cat and wondering which way to turn. I did not like what I was doing any longer, much as I LOVED the people … Continue reading Rising Out of the Mist of Yesterday
There is a place, I’ve read, where grief becomes something else. A writer I read from The Huffington Post called it “self-pity”. The “oh poor me, look how sad I am”…and she’s right, you do. Some for an hour, some for days, others for years and years…but we all do. It is an aspect of grief no one really talks about. My Mom and I … Continue reading Grief, and then … Self-pity?
This is a story I have wanted to tell, but I’ve never known quite how. There is an element to it that makes me, pause. I keep coming back to something one of my favourite authors, Charles Delint, talks a lot in his books about their being a collective sense of what we’ve chosen to make our reality. Anything that deviates from that and we … Continue reading The Pub Shaman
by PaulaB 