The weather has been too warm this week. It is the end of January in Saskatchewan and we should not be having plus temperatures. I hate this weather. I would rather be cold. I know how to dress and live with the cold.
I hate this January weather. I hate the ice it makes. I hate this incongruous weather. I hate the fact that January is too warm – it is misbehaving.
The only thing I like is the way the vibrant sun reflects so lovely off the snow!
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to combine two challenges in one post.
Okay, I also give you cute cat pictures.
She keeps me optimistic. She makes me smile. She helps me to stay in the now and remember that all this too will pass.
She is also my future. I became her forever home a year ago when she was just turning two and I vow to be with her for the next fifteen to twenty years. Which means that we both will have to survive long enough to become old! Which means I have new motivation to eat better and exercise more. Which I need because some days I’m not the most motivated person in the room.
My cat is. She’s motivated to take her next nap after she tears around the room and pretends to hide.
“What day is it?”
It’s today,” squeaked Piglet.
My favorite day,” said Pooh.”
― A.A. Milne
“We’ll never survive!”
“Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has.”
– The Princess Bride
I walked home last night around ten pm, the sky was crystal clear with millions of stars. I found Orion for the first time in a long time. I did not have my camera but then I don’t take pictures of the night sky because they never match the magnificence of the naked eye.
This is now.
Happy New Year.
Santa is making a list and checking it twice; am I naughty or nice?
I’ve always wanted to be naughty. To be the child that would stick out her tongue at strangers who were annoying her.
What is naughty? Is it evil? Is it cruel? Does it involve committing one or more of the seven deadly sins?
I’ll admit that I’ve been envious and coveted what others seem to get so easily. I eat too much. I want too much. I laze about when there is work to be done. I lust after pleasures and in my darkest daydreams am quick to stomp my feet and come to anger. I’ve stolen. I’ve lied. I’ve cheated.
But I do these things more in my heart (Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart) and my imaginings than in my real life!
Naughty is not necessarily sinful. Naughty is slightly disobedient; it is indecent, risqué, bawdy, improper, indelicate. Naughty is a woman pushing back against the norm!
What’s the naughtiest I’ve ever been? Shh! Can you keep a secret? (Of course you can’t – this is the ubiquitous internet after all!)
What is Nice? Me, I’ve always been nice. Too nice. Too good. Did what she was told. Didn’t make waves. Behaved herself. Good daughter. Good student. Good wife. Good enough (for everyone but me)!
Then I discovered the etymology of the word: nice.
Nice derives from the Latin nescius (“ignorant, not knowing”); from nescire (“to know not, to be ignorant of”), from ne (“not”) + scire (“to know”).
To be nice I had to choose to be ignorant of many things. I had to be compliant. I had to be quiet.
I choose no longer to be nice out of ignorance.
I choose, in spite of Santa’s list, to be at turns both naughty and nice and to always be aware of why I am choosing to be either.
I am nice. I am naughty. Sorry Santa – your lists are passe anyway!
When you’re a girl, you have to be everything, You have to be dope at what you do, but you have to be super sweet, and you have to be sexy, and you have to be this and you have to be that and you have to be nice, and you have to – it’s like, I can’t be all of those things at once. I’m a human being. ~Nicki Minaj
I always thought of photography as a naughty thing to do – that was one of my favorite things about it, and when I first did it, I felt very perverse. ~Diane Arbus
The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live. ~George Carlin
These are Concord grapes. They are my favourite fruit. We were lucky to be able to afford one basket each September when I was growing up. Welch’s uses them in their juices and jams which I also love and never got enough of growing up. We had to buy the things everybody liked.
Now that I am a grown-up (mostly), I buy what I want to eat. I’ve bought six baskets of grapes in the last four weeks and I have eaten them all!
If you want to show you love me – don’t say it with flowers – send me raspberries, concord grapes and chocolate.
Written for Ailsa’s weekly travel theme.
This is my eldest sister’s garden in September.
Fall is officially here.
My flowers have frozen.
Hers have not and we only live five blocks apart!
Here is a pop of Yellow in a field of green.
Can you see the purple?
Can you find the strawberries?
The Daily Prompt from August 5th asks:
and this week’s photo challenge is “creepy“!
I don’t have a tattoo, but if I did it would portray something a lot of people find creepy.
To many people bats are frightening, eerie, disturbing, menacing, and literally hair-raising –
even the cutesy Halloween bats shown here!
I’ve coveted this tattoo ever since I saw it on the Contrariwise: Literary Tattoos’ blog (unfortunately no longer supporting pictures). That was way back in 2010.
I have twin nephews who go all out with tattoos – sporting full sleeves and elaborate back & even face tattoos.
Many of my other relatives (brother, nieces) also sport the odd tattoo.
I won’t be getting a tattoo anytime soon. I avoid pain.
But if I did get a tattoo it would be inspired by this:
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you’re at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a teatray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle little bat!
How I wonder what you’re at!
And it would look like this (not my picture – it was originally on Contrariwise so I do not know who to credit. If it is yours and you want it removed email me and I will).
I wonder how painful it would be to get a tattoo on one’s foot (and just how expensive this design would be)?
Here are some seasonal additions to Ailsa’s new travel theme; which this week is Grey/Gray. I’m Canadian – we consider either spelling correct. It makes spelling bees easier!
I was in the city yesterday. My sister and I have an annual tradition of going to the Fringe and the Ex’s Saturday night free grandstand concert. Before the fun started, we went to a craft store where the pre-Halloween decorations were out. You need time to create the perfect scary display! But, then again, the Halloween candy is also out (who buys it this early? I would have it all eaten before Halloween if I bought it now).
Seeing all the orange, black and grey has me anticipating Halloween and Fall. I want a shorter summer and a longer autumn!
The greyish skeletons remind my sister of death and she fears them. I see fun and mystery in them. I see dancing skeletons and ghosts yearning to tell their stories to all willing to listen. She sees reality. I see story.
I like the raven pillow here. It makes me want to going around murmuring “Nevermore” under my breath. The tombstones dream of becoming sinister props in a fake graveyard. They yearn for pithy says.
The day started out gray. By the time we hit the festivals the sun was out and bright. There was a nice breeze flowing through the grandstand in the evening (it kept the mosquitoes away. Hooray!).
We traveled home in the dark and encountered greyish northern lights.
That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.
― Ray Bradbury
This is my back yard. I view it mostly through my kitchen window. It needs work. The grass is spotty and the weeds in my garden space are tall. The trellis needs to go as does the rhubarb. I don’t eat rhubarb – it is too sour. I ate it, as a child, raw dipped in sugar but now I know that there is not enough sugar in the world to sweeten rhubarb enough for my tastes.
As I may have mentioned before, I am not an outdoor person. I used to be. As a child, it seems when I wasn’t reading I was running around outdoors. Then I started working after school (when I was thirteen) and time to myself was devoted to reading because reading kept my sane. I would read outdoors then. There was a small forest right in the middle of town, beside the Catholic manse, with a gazebo perfect for reading. They tore the forest down to build fancy houses. I don’t know where the gazebo went. I stopped going outdoors.
My eldest sister has a back deck that she uses as a second kitchen as long as she can until the snows come. She revels in improving and enjoying her garden and yards. She takes after our mother and grandmothers. I do not.
An untidy yard and garden depresses me but I hate the thought of spending precious reading and writing time fussing about outdoors.
My gardens and yards came with the house. I enjoy the flowers but have no desire to replant and replace what is there. If the condos around here would have allowed pets I would have bought one and then would have no outdoor space to worry and fuss over.
This is my garden space right now. It is a mess of weeds. I get depressed every time I look at it so I avoid looking at it. When I have the money it will be converted to grass. The flowers will be pulled up (or moved to the side space) and I will convert my outdoor space to maximum low maintenance.
No weeding. No watering. Just a small green space outside my dooryard.
With lilacs, of course. The lilacs will stay as will the roses. But it will be every flower for themselves. They will survive (or not) as Nature attended with no help from me.
As Ailsa wrote “if you don’t like mowing the lawn, let there be meadow.”
This is my front yard. I like my front yard. It is just grass and a bench that nobody ever sits on. There are no flower beds. There is no weeding needed to keep it pretty. It needs only rain and mowing. I do not waste water on my lawn. It survives (or not) as Nature intended.
Yesterday, it was all sun-dappled and pretty. I love how freshly mowed grass smells. The spotty green (it has been a somewhat dry summer) doesn’t bother me. The grass grows as nature intended (or not). I would be happy surrounded by meadow as long as there was a path to the house so that I could get in.
The perfect summer reading experience is indoors in a screened porch with comfy couches and a deep big chair and a pot of tea with summer breezes blowing in the scent of roses and lilacs and freshly mowed grass and the salty smell of the sea or the crisp mountain air.
Do I ask for too much?
On my walk to the hospital (long story) yesterday, I encountered a pig in the grass. It stood happily in the shade enjoying the summer’s day. It made me smile when I needed to smile.
Do you know what this symbol represents? I do. It is my home, my third place, my heart. I fear I have known this symbol since birth if they had used that signage then. I am a reader. I have been a reader forever.
I am also a huge library user. Last year, I borrowed over 400 items (books, graphic novels, CDs, DVDs) from my local library. Even if I were rich, I could never afford to buy every thing that I want to read.
I love my library. They never look askew at the variety of items I borrow. Right now, I have out 2 picture books, 1 young adult novel, a non-fiction book about Rain, a ton of mysteries, a graphic novel, a fan-girl geek guide, and the Big Gay Ice Cream book.
I love all libraries. When I travel, like to Alaska last year, I like to visit at least one library. I still regret not popping into the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh when I walked past it. I didn’t go in because I was lost and stressed. If I had gone in I would have become less stressed and (probably) less lost!
My ideal trip would be a tour of the world’s libraries. I’ve been a patron of at least half of the libraries in my province and have used one library in 3/4 of all the provinces in Canada. So, this is where I would start – visiting every library (public, private, special, university) in Canada and then moving on to the rest of the world.
I would need a list of how to translate the word library world-wide in every language possible. I tried to find such a list. I know this list exists. I saw it in a library book when I was in library school. After an hour sucked into the endless depths of the universe via Google, I cannot find the list. I wish my library was open on Sunday then I could just go find it in a book!
How long do you think this would take me? Keep in mind that my average library visit is usually two hours long. I think I might need another lifetime or two for this task.
If I start now, how long do you think it would take me to visit every library in the World? When I’m done, can I travel with the Doctor (please) to visit every past and future library also.
Sorry, no actual photo for this photo challenge. I have no car and the signage is on the road about a mile out (and I am not walking that far on this too, too hot day).