Our Dynamic Earth

I came across a site the other day of a young photographer, Kieran Hamilton. I was so excited by his pics that I quickly posted some inaccurate info then removed it.  (it turns out I had given him a sex change operation at the stroke of a key. He is a he and not a she).

And his pics are worth a look. He is at sumpix.wordpress.com              Enjoy!

The photos below are not his..just a couple I had to demonstrate wishful thinking!

Now
Soon?
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The Royal Wedding and Me

The Royal Wedding And Me

I just got a mini lesson on royal etiquette so I can be prepared for my attendance at the wedding of my old friends Will and Kate.  Actually they are too young but I always considered his dad as an old friend.  Okay not really. Truthfully as a very young child when I first heard there was a prince in England about my age I was convinced that someday I would be his princess.  I think I was five.  What did I know?

The mini lesson was on the evening news and aside from which piece of cutlery to use when and how, or curtsy the most important instructions were: don’t speak unless spoken to and don’t touch. Oh and don’t chew gum.  

It seems Kate’s mom came under criticism when she was spotted chewing gum at William’s graduation.  And First Lady Michelle Obama came under severe criticism when she met the Queen and in a friendly gesture put her arm around the Monarch’s shoulder.

Strange to say my invitation has not arrived which may mean that for some reason I was left off the list.  It might be just as well as I am not sure I could abandon my gum chewing shoulder hugging ways!

Oh yes…I never did find my prince..just the odd court jester or two!

I Hate Dust

I Hate Dust 

Not enough to disturb it.  I just hate the way it is.. well so dusty.  I try to live and let live and with so many clean freaks out there I figure it needs to have a safe haven somewhere.

Please do not for one minute think I am freako here its just that today everything is about bacteria and anti bacteria.  We have cleaned and sanitized ourselves silly and right into risky health.  We, whoever we are, have no immunity and the bugs are winning.

 Antibiotics were a good thing way back when but have been so overused the bugs got smart and mutated. Now we have super bugs, MRSA, VRE, and so on.  There is always a new one coming along. 

Okay all that is a little over dramatic on the dust thing.  Another procrastinating excuse.  Any way I do get dusting now and then and it sure feels good to see every thing gleaming and shining.

By the way, on yesterdays post – I never got the door washed but I got a comment from Baxter Bunny that it is good Feng Shui to keep your doors especially the front door.  That one I can embrace!   The only Feng Shui I ever remember is to keep your toilet seat lid down to stop the flow of money down the drain. So naturally I do that one.  I call it my financial planning strategy.

And thank you to all who answered my question seeking more Procrastination excuses..I mean reasons.  Of course most had an answer but would have to get back to me sometime when they got around to it..like true procrastinators! 

Now I think I’ll go wash a door!

Is he wondering if Granny is all there?

Honest I was not lecturing him on bugs

or dust!

I Washed a Door Today

I Washed a Door Today

Well technically not yet.  But I am working up to it.

You see when I have a task I must do I will find anything else to do. 

Canadian taxes are due April 30th and this was the day to search through papers to make sure I have it all together.  The problem is there are LOTS of papers and every time I get company I do a quick file into any drawer available.  So the plan today was…..

Anyway I started the day optimistically.  But then I realized I had laundry.  So…

After getting that started I thought about my brother and sister in law leaving for sun, sand, and margaritas tomorrow and then I got lost in my memories of previous trips.

Friends came for dinner last night and brought a book they thought I might like. I felt obligated to at least look at it.  So….

The book is The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. I can recommend this book as I have quickly read all 902 pages.  NOT my fault I swear!  After all this talk this week on WordPress about writers finding time to read I felt it was my duty.

 So I am quickly running out of excuses, I mean reasons for not doing taxes.  The laundry is almost done, and it isn’t like I actually DO the laundry but I feel I must support my machine while it does it.

 I certainly have the time today.  But then it occurred to me the walls were looking a little dingy and my common sense told me there was no way I could wash all the walls today so I thought I could start with a door and work my way from there.

 Then of course I decided I had not posted today so….

  Hmmm what should I do next?

 Question: Are you a procrastinator and what do you do to achieve it? Really I want to know as I am running out of ideas!

Five Minutes of my Favorite Things

GypsyMamma’s Challenge is to list a few of our favorite things in five minutes!
A Few of My Fav Things in Five Minutes

Rain: falling lightly, falling in torrents

Sunshine: Baking everything to a soft warm glow

Wind: the feel fills me with a sense of adventure

Caleb: at seven believing Grandma is the coolest chick in the world

Rowan: slipping his three year old hand in mine so trustingly 

Music: Blues, rock, country reaching my soul

Blogging: for opening a new world and new friends

No! No! Please No More Bedtime Stories!

No! No! Please No More Bedtime Stories!

A coblogger I like to read, Word Lilly did a post today on the re release of a favorite children’s book series.  I started to comment and then had to cut it short as I realized that I had enough material for a post.

Once upon a time, perhaps a millennia ago there were a set of stories for children called Uncle Arthur’s Bedtime stories.  I suppose my Mom started reading them to me but by the age of four or five I  would read them to myself.

Now why I did this, and did it repeatedly I have no idea.  I think Uncle Arthur must have been a very nasty man who hated children.  A lot.  His stories scared the life out of me -for years.  There was always a moral but even as a child I questioned the why of it.  And those were the stories I repeatedly pulled down to read again and again.

One was about a little boy who had been struck by a car and lay in a hospital bed ward all bandaged up.  He was in a lot of pain.  Another youngster in a bed near by could see his suffering.  So he told our critically ill patient that every night Jesus would walk through the ward and take children away who were ill.  All they had to do was hold up their hand.  

So our wee lad tried and tried to raise his hand that night but weakness and pain made it impossible.  His little friend crawled out of bed and bracing the arm with pillows was able to raise the hand.  

Well of course the happy ending was that Jesus did come and take him away from his pain and suffering.  But the residual effect was that every time I sleep on my side and raise my arm that picture comes to mind and I snap that hand back down quickly.  Then my mind reviews the whole story again.  As the song by Joe Diffie goes..”I want to go to heaven but I don’t want to go tonight ” Especially if it was because of an accidental hand placement!  Oh yeah, then I have to sign the song.  I swear Uncle Arthur has been the source of insomnia now and then.

The second awful story was one about a poor family.  A Mom and two children.  Food is a problem and Mama provides the best she can, always making sure her off spring eat first.  So Mama gets weaker and sicker.  A doctor comes and tears a strip off those wee bairns telling them how selfish and horrible they are for eating the food.  And he says that if Mama dies it is all their own fault!  

Well the outcome of that was the children started making sure she ate, and miracles of miracles she got better.  Well good for them!  Me?  I was locked in the nightmare for weeks, watching everything my mother ate and if she offered me something extra I declined.

No way was I going to kill my Mom!  (Which I guess is kind of funny because in my blog about Perception is a Funny Thing at the end of her life she actually did believe just that!)

The House that Built Me

The House That Built Me
Writing Prompt

There was only one house.  Driving past it today I wonder how seven people, one Mom, one Dad and five children cohabited there without death or destruction ensuing.  It had one small bathroom, one tiny kitchen, one living room and three bedrooms.  There was no basement except for a hole excavated a few years later to accommodate an oil furnace.  There were no air ducts – just a couple of vent grates on the floor of each upstairs bedroom.

Today it is a heritage house so declared because of the history of it’s origins. The exterior of this one and a half story wartime house was originally clap board.  The whole street had been built for returning veterans (of the second world war).  They were basic homes and cost my folks three thousand dollars at the time.

It was a young family street with lots of children around the same age. I referred to that in my blog The First Real Snow Storm and the plunking that went on.

The house, my house, sits on a quarter of an acre and all the yards just ran I to each other. Plus there was, is, a boulevard down the middle of the street.  We had plenty of play room.

My earliest memories might seem a little strange or other worldly to some of you youguns but it is all true.

In nineteen fifty-two we were one of the first families to have a TV set.  There were probably only six channels if that.  Black and white of course but there were a few years where some smart marketer sold colored transparent paper that you stuck to the front of the screen.  Ours was pink so we had a pink colored TV.  There was a huge knob on the front of the set and when you  wanted to change channels you actually got up off the sofa and cranked it loudly.

We did not watch much TV.  During the weekday if my Mom was not working she watched the fifteen minute Search For Tomorrow at noon. Saturday afternoons it was Howdy Doody, Roy Rogers and Gene Audrey and Annie Oakley.  Little boys imagined themselves growing up to be cowboys.  Barbies had not been invented but girls had tea sets and porcelain dolls.  Me I was with the boys and wanted to be Annie Oakley.

Sunday nights after church it was Ed Sullivan and I think Edward R Morrow who sat at his desk and puffed on cigarettes while he did his form of investigative journalism.  Of course everyone smoked; on buses, in the movies, in shops…well every where. Later Sunday nights were for Bonanza.  (Cowboys were our heroes then.)

There was a small shed attached to the house where the coal was delivered which fed the only furnace, a coal burning stove that sat in the living room.  Later that room became a laundry utility room when we moved to oil. For years that huge oil tank was part of the rear exterior of our palace.

Upstairs there were two bedrooms – the girls room and the boys room.  From the window of the girls room which overlooked the side lawn the older kids encouraged the younger kids to jump just like the cowboys..out of the window.  It’s a wonder we ever survived but survive we did.

I remember the ice man coming down the street with a horse drawn cart.  He delivered frequently to keep our ice boxes cool. Then the milk man who delivered glass bottles daily during the week.  In the winter the milk would freeze and the little card board lids would pop up.

In this tiny dwelling I learned you can fight and yell and later laugh and live together with love.  I learned one bathroom really was enough (how I don’t know but it must have been because none of us were ever incontinent.). I learned you could read and study and not be bothered by noise.  This has come in handy over the years.  I learned that the kitchen table or the floor was as good as any desk.

I learned and when I think of the house that built me I give thanks.  And now as my eyes fill with tears at those memories and so many more I feel a deep profound homesickness.

Size does Matter

Size Does Matter…
Yes Virginia There is a Santa Clause But No Honey, Size does Matter

Another inexplicable sleepless night. Well maybe not so inexplicable.  I ate too late and still feel full.  Any dining after eight-thirty is too late for me especially when I am ravenous.  So perhaps it is not the time as much as it is the amount which includes a couple of Moosehead brews.  I must put that on my no fly list – I mean my no no list…again.

Once that stage is set then arrive a whole cast of characters bobbing in and out of my grey cells.  It always starts with a list of things not accomplished and then seques into the specific people linked to either things they need or are going through and eventually into memories.

Linda Cassidy Lewis posted a blog today, I mean yesterday, on The Problem with Writing and how much personal reading one gets done when writing.  There was a tremendous response and some of the respondents said they read themselves to sleep.  Well I did that tonight.  But the problem therein is that if the book is good I get all caught up in the story and am too stimulated to sleep. (Thank you Stephanie Meyer).

So here I am tossing and turning and suddenly for no fathomable reason,my thoughts travel to size.  Does size matter?

In the nineties my oldest son followed his school buddies to Toronto to enter the world of commercial film.  I gave him my cell phone which he thought was pretty cool, until one day a call came.  They were working on a set and everyone had to toss their cells into a bucket.  “Mom, it was embarrassing. Most of the guys have these new smaller phones and mine was a monster.”

So he got himself a spiffy new phone (which was also outsized in a few months.). A lot has changed since our old black heavy stay in one place, party line sharing dial phones of the fifties. (I’ve heard stories!!)

We were amazed in the sixties when Captain Kirk smacked his chest and said, “Beam me up Scotty”  Today we have surpassed communications on the Enterprise.

Just look at computers.  When I was in grade five in the fifties my teacher, Mr. Johnson showed us a movie on reels of course..sigh..about a computer at NASA. Well computers, in the plural.  They were massive.  For a quick peak you can view the next generation puters in the movie War Games with Matthew Broderick.   Anyway Mr. J said, “Someday everyone will have computers in their homes.”   I did not remember the rest of the class. My ten year old mind puzzled that over and over, because for the life of me I could not imagine people being able to build huge rooms onto their homes to accommodate computers.

Now we are talking and working on quantum computers in my city’s University of Waterloo which is so well known that Stephen Hawking is chair of one of the departments.

So yes size matters and it would appear….the smaller the better!
Are there situations today where bigger is better? You tell me.

Brain Fried, Cooked and Boiled, Order UP! (via Crystal Rayne)

Hilarious! I just went through one of those periods but when my hits it seems to affect anything electronic…computer, phone, TV. Its like my grey cells figure, if they’re going down they are not going alone! This too shall pass meanwhile you got a delightful post out of it!
Chris

I have no clue what has happened to me.  Really I don't.  Yesterday and today it is almost like my brain has shut down, taken a vacation and who knows where the hell it went, but what I do know is that it didn't take my body with it.  I can't seem to get a single thing right, swear.  Last night I actually burned hamburger attempting to cook dinner, me, burned hamburger.  When I say burned that would be an understatement, I put a 1/4 of and inch l … Read More

via Crystal Rayne

Strange Pathways

Strange Pathways

Sometimes it all seems to come together (I love it when a plan comes together as Hannibal said – the fictional character from the A team not THE Hannibal).

Sometimes it does even though the reason or purpose for it remains unknown at this point.

I deactivated my Facebook last week, which I do occasionally when my visits to it start to interfere with other activities, like writing, cleaning, gassing up the beast, eating, socializing.  So I take a break.  

Anyway last night before going to bed I reactivated it.  This morning there was a message from an old friend I worked with years ago.  She is one of those contacts that are there, and you see regular updates on, and always plan to get together for coffee, but never really connect with.

The message was:

http://www.facebook.com/l/29f90e8NzbvA-J8WWcanpnMUiqw/www.eventbrite.com/contact-organizer?eid=1492745843
Hey Chris, one of my friends has this posted on their wall. I’m pretty sure you were inquiring about something like this and I thought of you.

It is a link to a Social Media Breakfast:

Social Media Breakfast with Josh Muirhead – Telling a Story – the key to online engagement
Tuesday, April 19, 2011 at 7:30 AM (ET)
Cambridge, Ontario

To the best of my memory I don’t remember indicating an interest in this specifically however since blogging I am searching out all knowledge possible related to story telling and social media. I am not very techie and need to learn how to make it better.  It is related to business and clients but I am thinking there might be some useful information I can glean from it.

Whatever the reason I feel like I need to be in this place at that time so I have signed up.  It does mean I will have to haul my aspergeezie out of bed early…nuts!

Will let you all know how it plays out!

There are no facts, only interpretations. – Friedrich Nietzsche. The truth I think that validates everything you have to say.

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