Robin, robin,
Why are you here?
The sun is out,
The sky is clear.
Robin, robin,
Why are you here?
The temps are cold,
The snow is near.
Robin, robin,
Why are you here?
You’ll freeze your
Little wings, I fear.
Happy spring, everyone. Saw my first robin today. Didn’t have my camera to take a picture. And I just wondered what he thought of our Canadian spring. First official day has been and gone, and we’re still hovering below zero with snow coming our way.
Check out this picture. Seriously, this is so cool.
click on the photo to see the detail
Gazing out the window as I was eating my breakfast this morning, I noticed that the way the sun was positioned, it caused the shadow of the two twisted-around-each-other trees in the foreground to line up perfectly with the one behind it. You can see the hole the two produce in the shadow, even though it’s about ten feet above where the trunks actually part. What’s more stunning than that, is, the higher branch is at the exact angle to go up the offshoot of the background tree.
If you’re over the age of 40 and you have the opportunity to buy your teenager the same model of cell phone as you, do it. Within a week, he or she will know more about its quirks and abilities than you’ll ever want to look up on your own. Just don’t get them one that’s the same colour as yours… you’ll not want to know what they’re talking to their friends about by text any more than you’ll want them seeing the pictures you take, if you know what I mean. 😉
Since my fiction blog is coming up to a year old, I’ve decided to completely revamp it – new theme, new colours, new name even. When I do, I’ll take it offline, so if you can’t find it this weekend, you’ll know why. And if you can’t find it ever, it’s because I’ve changed the name. (Makes note to self to schedule a grand re-opening.)
We had spring for about 10 minutes this morning! It’s snowing now.
Do you ever get a comment on an old post and have to go back to read it to see what you said? Does that mean your memory is bad, or that you post too much? Just wondering.
OH oh oh! I found the CD I lost! It was in a pile of papers in my kitchen. I found it when I was looking for something else. 😀 To celebrate, everyone who told me I’d find it, gets one of the oatmeal cookies I found in the same pile.
So I have the weekend off. The kids are going with their dad tomorrow night and coming back Sunday after dinner. I have a freebie at the cinema… and I have Netflix. Any suggestions as to what movie I should watch? Anyone want to come with? Popcorn’s on me. 😀
There is a seriousness in your bones, deep below your happy exterior. Your laughter flakes off you like dried rose petals; it falls all around, coating everyone with your outermost joy.
Does it matter? No. Not to those who you meet in the street, or those you entertain. They feel blessed to be within your circumference of notice.
But to me you are an enigma. So fragile, and yet so strong.
And unlike those who are lucky enough to feel the warmth radiating from your presence for but a moment, I would die a thousand deaths without you.
Playing around with my camera while I was waiting for Alex’s bus to arrive, I found a few interesting things:
A feather trapped in the branches of my hedge.
Leaves glued to the ice, so transparent that their skeletons are showing.
I liked the way the lens focused on the twigs, rendering the house in the background an afterthought.
Now that I have a memory card for the camera I bought before Christmas, I’ll start taking it out more often. My phone takes decent pictures, but it can’t beat 16.1 megapixels. I just have to learn how to use it to its full advantage.
The now-defunct Hershey’s plant in Smith’s Falls, Ontario has been turned into a medicinal marijuana grow-op. There’s a munchie joke in there somewhere. I just know it.
I had a dream last night in which I traveled back in time, to the ’70s I believe, to speak to high school girls about what it would be like, in the future, to be able to communicate from anywhere. You’d think I’d have had a cell phone in my hand. But that’s not what I had.
In my dream I was carrying a piece of paper. It was like a receipt and it had words and numbers written on it. Strangely enough I remember having to go to a payphone to use it… but what purpose the paper served is beyond me. It was a dream.
When I woke up, however, it left me wondering about the fragility of communication. The paper was nothing but symbolic. What if I lost it? (The piece of paper or the ability to communicate – you decide.) What if I suddenly couldn’t read it because it got damaged? How much did it cost to obtain it? It was a receipt, after all.
Then I started thinking, what if I had five minutes to tell everyone I loved everything I needed to tell them? Could I be succinct? I think that’s the one positive thing the language of texting has provided us with… a shorthand. And it’s such a personal thing as well. Only if I’m in a hurry will I spell ‘you,’ ‘u,’ and everyone close to me knows this, and so I am communicating two things at once.
But what if we could all speak the way the great authors write? To be able to communicate a feeling – ‘All the world’s a stage…’ What if stuff like that just rolled off our tongues as easily as we wrote it? What if we could put real body language and facial expressions into our emails? Speaking from the perspective of someone who actually CAN communicate in two languages simultaneously (spoken English and American Sign Language), it would be wonderful indeed.
And yet do I feel as though, if I had five minutes left in this world to say everything I wanted to, I’m afraid I’d be at a loss for words.
Okay, so I was sitting on my bed this morning at 6:17 (I know this because I was changing the clock on my old cell phone that I use just for its alarm, only it didn’t go off because I forgot to change it after we went to Daylight Savings) and I was already mumbling miserably to myself because I got up late, when there came a big bang from above.
Now one thing you have to know is that my house started off as a bungalow, once upon a time, but someone decided a two bedroom house wasn’t big enough, so they opened up the attic and put three more bedrooms and a half bath up there. I sleep in one of those three bedrooms. So the bang I heard was pretty close to where my ears were located at 6:17 this morning.
Since there are no windows upstairs on the front of the house to look out of, I came downstairs to look outside, half expecting to see a massive tree branch sitting on my front lawn. And yet nothing has disturbed the pristine condition of the snow. Failing that, and not wanting to put my boots on and trudge outside in my pjs, I texted my friend John, who was on his way over for breakfast to ask if he could look up and see if there was anything still sitting on the roof.
He came in and the conversation went something like this:
Me: Did you see anything?
John: Nope. There’s nothing up there.
Me: I wonder what made that noise then…
John: Could it have been an animal do you think?
Me: Well if it was a squirrel, someone must have flung it pretty hard.
John: And I guess you’d expect to see roadkill out there…
So there you have it. Our best guess at the big bang theory. Unless, of course, leprechauns have reindeer…
Back Hair Advocate is a new humor (web) lit mag. It was started after our team of editors (there is no team) realized that there are a dearth of opportunities for writing funny out there.
Back Hair Advocate would like to fill that dearth with your brilliance. We are looking for poems, flash fiction, cartoons, nonfiction pieces and short stories. All of them must have two things in common: they have to be funny and well-written.
The individual behind this new lit mag is IanStarttoday. His work is forthcoming or has been published in a number of fine publications you probably haven’t heard of. They include Eunoia Review, Feathertale.com, Foliate Oak Lit Mag, Asinine Poetry, and Miracle E-zine. He also boasts rejections by many other publications that probably didn’t deserve to feature his genius anyway.
He is not above utilizing smiley faces to express emotions and feelings.
I went with my mother and Alex to a small diner down the street today for lunch. The place was pretty busy, but nothing out of the ordinary. It seemed by the way they were dressed that most of the crowd had come from church.
So we sat there, minding our own business–my mom and I both had a toasted western each and Alex ate five noodles out of his dish of mac and cheese. We finished our lunch and the waitress came over to ask if there was anything else. I said no, just the bill please. You can imagine my shock when she said, “It’s okay, it’s taken care of.”
“Wwwhy?” I asked, totally stunned.
“The lady at the next table,” she pointed to the recently vacated table behind us, “paid half your bill and I took care of the other half.”
My mom and both said thank you, to which she replied, “No problem,” and walked away.
I left a five dollar tip.
What the hell? I have no idea who the lady was who sat at the other table. She didn’t even smile at me when she left, and I looked right at her. But the waitress too?
I don’t know whether to feel grateful or pathetic because I haven’t washed my hair in two days and wasn’t wearing my Sunday best.
