This was written on May 12, 2015 12:57 PM
I used to keep a journal about the random thoughts in my head that would repeat like loops in my mind. It would and could drive me crazy if it would let it. Things like. I should write those stories that I have always wanted to write since I was 8 years old. I should draw more; I should look for a job, something I can do from home. That is something I really want, I can do several things. Website Design, Blogging, resumes, and even make graphics. I just don’t know how to market myself. I am not good at selling myself. I have a great desire to help people, but no desire to get paid for it. Continue reading
Ever come across a piece of Art that says more than you see. This one does screams out to me. I am always saying its ok. But it really isn’t. I just think I can handle it alone. When I can’t.
Thank you whoever drew this, for making me think about saying this all the time. If you know who this person is let me know. I will give that person a huge long hug. The kind I need right now myself.
Sometimes, Art says more than I can express, and this one today. Had my attention, Rachel needs self-care, and I have good friends who love me. And Care for me. They deserve better than its OK.
I am working on it. Trust me.
I normally work from home and rarely work outside of the home. I recently took a temporary assignment at the government found myself waking up for work on a very rainy day. I was not prepared! You see it has been a great summer of hot weather, the sunshine and light apparel. Summer shoes, heels and sandals. My boots were, somewhere hiding in wait for the winter weather. So I decided to brave the rain in my cloth runners. I know how to avoid puddles I thought bravely.
Next big decision is, avoid getting my dress wet, so I choose a coat that I call my ‘little red riding hood’ jacket. Yes, I name my clothes, not all of them just my favourites. This jacket is bright red, looks like a tent on me and but has a big red hoodie, great for covering my frizzy hair from the rain. It is a heavy jacket and would be warm to wear, but since I didn’t own an umbrella, it was my only choice. So, off I went. Running late, as usual, I braved the downtown Toronto weather, to get to work. Continue reading
I was sitting in a good friends backyard drinking wine, and sharing laughs and little stories of my life. Things that I experienced and found funny that once happened to me. I always enjoyed telling a good story or a joke over the years, and even got an “A”, on a presentation in college because of it. I use laughter and body gestures, and tone, and inflection in my voice. A few days later while doing dishes, it dawned on me where I got this love for storytelling, it was from a story my mother told at a family get together with friends and family close by. I am hoping that I can tell the story correctly, it isn’t my story but hers and dad’s but I think my father can help me with the things I might have left out.
My mother took a long drag on her cigarette, and put her coffee down on the table and started to laugh, as if she was remembering this story, like it just happened a few days ago. She smiled and began, I sat with my hands under my chin, while I watched my mother become animated, as she began her tale.
They are sitting on the table, while she is in the bathroom resting on her computer keyboard. They were pink, and small just like my mom’s small frame that dominated the living-room with her voice and laughter. I stared at them as I reflected on the meaning of these glasses with a smile, and I stood up to make the 40th cup of tea that we going to share, on this visit this early summer.
Dad bought these pretty glasses, because she needed them. She loved to watch TV when she wasn’t playing “her silly farm game.” Dad was tired of telling her what was on TV, cause her eyesight was so bad. She no longer could read the tv guide on her 42 inch flat screen TV. She bugged my father for months to get the new next box from Rogers so that she could read the guide and continue to program her favourite shows days or weeks in advance, so she wouldn’t miss a thing. Dad finally took the drive to Newmarket and picked up the “stupid box”, we hooked it up to only see that the font they used for the new guide was hard to read and way too small. I tried not to laugh at my dad, when I saw the defeated look on his face, but he smiled and shook his head and left the room. I know he was biting his lip but his love for my mom wouldn’t let him. I smiled at the love my dad has for my mom. Continue reading