wordless wednesday

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Other Wordless Friends—

Cheryl Andrews
Allison Howard
Allyson Latta
Barbara Lambert
Elizabeth Yeoman

tanning beds (one vote in favour of)

wordless wednesday

—Other Wordless Friends

Cheryl Andrews
Allison Howard
Allyson Latta
Barbara Lambert
Elizabeth Yeoman

*Judy

blueprint for reincarnation

I was in a shop the other day, asking one or two simple questions of the sales clerk when out of the blue she explained she was sensitive to people’s auras and that she had the feeling I may have been a pirate in a past life. Maybe not a pirate exactly, she said, but boats were definitely involved. True, I did wonder if she’d had a titch too much liquid in her lunch but I was also oddly attracted to the prospect. (Though I naturally abhor piratey ethics, you’ve got to admit the idea of adventuring on the high seas with a wise-cracking parrot has a certain appeal. Plus, who says pirates can’t give their gold to the Humane Society?)

She said she thought I went down with my ship in a storm.

This could account for my dislike of boats (other than rowboats and canoes of course).

She didn’t get a vibe for any other past lives but it got me thinking that if there are more in the future, and if I have a say in choosing them, I’d like to submit the following suggestions to whoever is in charge of casting.

1)  Parrots and rollicking adventure aside, enough with the pirate thing.

2)  I think it would be quite wonderful to be music, for example. Not a listener or player but the music itself floating about. I would like to be the notes that come from a well handled saxophone or clarinet.

3)  Or possibly a branch on a very tall spruce. High up enough to see a fair distance, high enough that cardinals would want to sing on my elbow. High enough to not be whacked off as a xmas decoration. My job simply to breathe. A noble day’s work, with perks of sunshine on my shoulders, a good rinsing now and again, snow and wind in my needles. I’d prefer being part of a woodland tree rather than a landscaping pawn. And I wouldn’t be the whole tree, just a branch. This is not insignificant.

4)  I’m drawn to the idea of being water. (Not surprising given my seafaring past.) But for all that clarity and movement and cool rippling day and night, tumbling over rocks in streams or lapping at sunny shorelines, I hesitate to include water as a choice. Sure, it would be fun for a while but the thing is you never get to leave. It’s said that the water dinosaurs sloshed about in and what Napoleon spit out when (if) he brushed his teeth, is still in circulation.

5)  Better to be duck’s feet, paddling IN that tumbling stream.

6)  I would not like to be a day lily. For obvious reasons. Or a mosquito, or even a flame. Definitely not a flame. All that heat [I don't tolerate heat well], all that destruction, people staring at you, poking at you with wrought iron tools. And for what? You can’t see a thing for all the brightness and then you’re gone in an instant. Who would want to be a flame?

7)  Air. Now that’s something. Or not. Like water, you’re pretty much air forever. And you get treated quite badly. Nah. Not air.

8)  Well, any bird, really. No, not any bird. A long-lived, soaring bird. A pelican. Yes, that’s it. I like fish. And water. And hanging around patios of seafood restaurants in Florida.

9)  Anything in the Everglades. Sawgrass or sunrise or a string of Spanish moss. Anything at all. The lettuce on Lettuce Lake.

10)  I would happily be the sound of a train. In a thousand places at once as I moved across the country, breaking the silence from ocean to ocean, causing folk all manner of freewheeling thoughts.

11)  Rain. If only to get inside a cloud. And the falling would be good, like skydiving. But then we’re back to water and Napoleon’s toothbrush spit. I’d only be rain as part of a relay, the ‘cloud to earth’ part. Someone else can take it from there.

12)  An elderberry blossom, the joy in a much-needed hug or a kitten’s belly when it’s filled with purring. The peace of Sunday morning, the warmth of under the duvet, the curve of the moon. I would like to be an unpicked peach or the black seed of a blue columbine. Driftwood, sand, pebbles, the spine of a wild horse, the wings of a monarch, a Stratford swan.

on a morning like this

When you wake up all grumpy and don’t feel like taking a walk because you’d prefer to wallow in grumpiness and toast but then the sky’s like this…

and you can never argue with a sky like that. It always wins.

So you put on your sneakers and you walk.

Until it occurs to you that maybe you’re walking a little too fast…
and thinking too much about your grumpiness and not enough about the sky, which is still there but changing every minute…

along with everything else.

Until… and, at last, you wonder where grumpiness goes when it’s not being used.

wordless wednesday

♦◊♦

—Other Wordless Friends
Cheryl Andrews
Allison Howard
Allyson Latta
Barbara Lambert
Elizabeth Yeoman

(Front of card, posted by request. I love how untraditional the image is. Not a snowflake nor an elf to be seen.)

a short history of peacock blue

First discovered: among the Laurentien pencil crayons purchased at Towers Department store. A momentous occasion after years of using generic brands with no pep and loose tips that refused to be sharpened easily.

Love at first sight? Oh yes. Peacock Blue was head and shoulders above the other colours from the very start. Although Peacock Green and the most yellowy yellow were close behind. (The history of either or both, available on request.)

The role it played: Not insignificant insofar as my choice of fabric for the Grade Seven HomeEc fashion show for which I made a stiff yet somehow baggy pair of peacock blue elastic waist pants (flood length because I ran out of material) and a matching checkered tunic, also stiffly A-line (peacock blue and white with a big Peter Pan collar) made even worse (hard to imagine, I know) with clunky white patent leather shoes and the fact that I went on stage right after Lisa Kiss who took modelling classes. Modelling classes. And who wore a tiny pink mini skirt and a pastel print popcorn blouse.

Also used as eyeliner at some point. (the How To: leave for school naked-faced like a good girl then somewhere near the corner of the street, set down your binder, unzip your pencil-case, find your mirror and your Peacock Blue and lick the end. Apply to inner eye.)  Lead?? What lead?

Tried it as a nail colour. Didn’t work.

Fast forward:

Next??