I'm a gummibar

Just wanted to share a little piece of my Momma hell with you. This has been stuck in my head all evening. Delightful. The kids think it is hilarious. My brain isn't going to offer you anything more from its gummy state I'm afraid. Perhaps tomorrow I will be able to find a poetic pen...

A Goodbye Cruise

You would think all I did was drink while I was in Africa at this rate. Brett and Oliver met back up with us later in the day after Miki and I returned from our canoe safari. Hugs and apologies led us to a makeup date on a booze cruise into Zambia. It was just across the river, but our passports were always hungry for new stamps, so a-cruising we would go. We saw a most beautiful sunset as we chugged along the Zambezi above the Falls with many, many drinks in hand. One too many for poor Miki, as she was a fallen soldier half-way home. Not sure if the border guards appreciated cleaning up after all the booze cruisers that went through that border, but the economy was grateful I’m sure!

Miki’s groans were joined by the rest of us, as we begged for sleep under a blazing light post in the campground where we had set up our tents. At 3 AM we tossed and turned laughing at our fate, but by 5 AM we blissfully crashed again. Brett pushed on to get a view of the sunrise from the falls, but I could not muster the strength to walk, let alone goggle over a new day. Miki and I would make a trek to the falls later in the day to get our fill of the magnificent view and feel the spray of the Zambezi’s water on welcome cheeks.

This was our Coup de grâce for a journey that had spanned just over 3 months. Miki would depart the next evening on a Translux bound for Johannesburg. It saddened me that she would no longer be my travelling companion, but fate had thrown her in my path and for that I would be eternally grateful. When I had concocted a journey to Africa the year before, it had held no one in it, but myself and  relatives to meet. I had never dreamed that I would be back-packing around the African continent with someone I barely knew from high school, an Aussie bloke and whatever other travelers we came across. She helped me to get comfortable in my backpack’s straps and have the confidence to strike out on my own. With a heavy heart I wished her well, but knew that when she left the next evening I would wipe away my tears and turn to the next bend in the road on my African Adventure.

Cleaning Spree

Time to empty shelves.

We discard old

and broken items

that no longer hold love or attention

in hopes that St Nick

will come to offer

shiny new baubles

for our play!

$$$

Yesterday we headed to the mall and spied Santa on his throne. My eldest hid behind me, but little R headed straight for the Big Guy's lap to chat. I figured that made it a good excuse to clean the playroom and thin out the toy shelves down there. Perhaps I will be able to see the floor for a day or two...

Oh, and this little ditty is my entry for the Sunday 160 over at Monkey Man's as well. 

Hope your Sunday was swell!

Stranger

Stranger;
by Megan Hart
(© 2009 Spice)

This is exactly what it looks like my friends. Yes, this is the selection for my book club this month. I will give you one chance to guess the genre and if you cannot guess it, then perhaps you need to flip through some of the magazines that they have on the very top shelf of the magazine rack at variety stores. You know the ones; either covers are hidden or stickers are dotted all over the front cover to hide prying eyes before a purchase is made. Yup, this is along those kind of lines.

You might ask why we are reading a book that hearkens from the realms of Harlequin. Well, some of the members of my book club are wondering the same thing to be honest. Ha! We all agreed to read whatever is on the table though and this year we went with genres. One lucky lady selected Erotica and we all agreed, with a round of titters. When it came time to announce the selected book for our genre, Stranger was presented to us for our erotic pleasure. Some had questioned why not a classical approach, such as Lady Chatterly's Lover, Tropic of Cancer or perhaps something by the Marquis de Sade. Modern was the answer. So a modern look at erotica was perused this month compliments of Meagan Hart and her novel Stranger.

^^^

The story opens with the main character Grace entering a hotel lounge and settling into the bar for a drink. A description of her provocative attire leads one to assume that she is meeting someone for a date, or at the very least trying to meet someone for something of the kind. A lewd and pushy man tries to hustle her, until a tall, dark and very handsome man interrupts. He fashions himself her boyfriend to dissuade the first stranger to depart, then with him gone introduces himself. Before either of their drinks are done, they are headed upstairs for a night of wild and raucous sex. 

Now you might think that Grace is a bit of a tramp, but this is where the story tries to hook you. Grace is under the impression that the handsome stranger she "picked up" at the bar was a man that she had hired from an escort agency. She had already paid for his services and had requested a bit of kinky fun with the game of "having sex with a total stranger". Little did she know, that is exactly what she did. After wonderfully satisfying and over the moon sex, she freshens herself up and heads out the door, checking her voice mail as she goes. Only then does she get the message that her "real" date is wondering where she is and if their gig was cancelled. Well, she is mighty shocked, appalled, but even more titillated, but she doesn't have time to think about it as she heads out to pick up a body from the hospital. 

Oh, I haven't mentioned that yet? Yes, well, our dear Grace is a funeral director. She has just taken over the family business and is trying hard to impress her gruff father that can never be pleased. She has a male intern and female secretary (who have an affair, but is a pretty minor sub-plot that doesn't add anything to the story in my opinion) that work for her, but other than that she is fiercely independent. That of course is why she hires men for company, but more importantly, sex. She has no time for a relationship, but as the story unfolds, it is pointed out that she is afraid of commitment, loving someone,  and ultimately losing them. In her narrow world, all she sees is that everyone leaves you sometime. She forestalls the hurt caused by someone leaving her, by not letting anyone in to cause harm. Wonderful, except for the fact that she is dealing with the bereaved as a line of work. 

At this point the novel is more than a little flat on character development. Grace is a self-centred, narrow-minded individual that has no room for anything other than proving her father wrong, and of course sex. She supposedly is good at her job, but without truly caring about another individual, I don't see as how she could actually come across as believable to any kind of client. Her words would ring pretty false to a grieving soul's ears. I suppose that the story is trying to legitimize itself here though, so I will move on.

What else is in this book? Well, sex for the most part. Fine, except for I find it annoying how she has the best sex ever, every single time she has sex in the book. I am not saying that I am virginal, but I also wouldn't suggest that every time I have slid between the sheets with someone the moon and stars have realigned into a new constellation with my name on it. Jealousy on my behalf, I suppose, but I have to beg realism here. I don't mind the sex, but a little more titillation wouldn't hurt either. I suspect that I will not be alone in my questioning as to why the book did not appeal to my erotic imagination. That is not what this book was about though. The pictures were vividly painted and no imagination was required. 

Ah well, I did read it to the end and to be honest didn't mind it that much. Intellectual stimulation was not the main point, as the story was all about getting the motor running, if you will. Predictably, Grace gets together with her Stranger, loses her stranger, and then finds him again, as well as a dose of love thrown in for good measure. Any moral or ethical questions to be learned here? That is a stretch, but perhaps it is that while an individual's happiness is vital and important, allowing others into our lives to share the joys and sorrows makes for a much more enjoyable and worthwhile ride. 

Winner

I took the empty jar devoid of its pickle treats down to the dusty basement. I tucked it into the box, where it would wait until next year's crop of pickling cucumbers to be made into sour, crunchy nibblies. For now, it would just fill in a corner of  the derelict store room. 

As I lifted the jar back onto the shelf, my gaze fell upon another box on the adjoining shelf. No written missive on the side of the box gave clues as to its contents. I paused, trying to think of what the box held, to no avail. Curiousity got the better of me, so I brushed off my hands and pulled down the box from the rickety metal shelf. A layer of dust coated the top of the box telling me that it had been forgotten for too long. A puff from me sent the dust into the air. An erstwhile warning burst from my brain, but too late to prevent me from sneezing and coughing in the cloud I released. 

One final sneeze released me from its grip, as I choked back a thick snurtle. With now bleary eyes, I wondered why I was down there in the first place. Ah yes, the box...

With already dirty hands, I wiped the lid of the box. It had certainly been down here a long time and my jeans took the punishment as I swiped my soiled hands against them. Now what was in this thing anyway?

The yellowed tape that protected the contents of the box was brittle in my inquiring hands. It crumbled as I picked at it. Intent on seeing the interior of this vessel, I put the box down to collect a blade to aid me in my quest. Retrieving an exacto-knife from my tool box, I returned to my mystery package. Gently, I ran the blade the length of the top. It was a big box, now that I thought of it. Some weight to it too, but still I could not place its contents.

Brringgg....

The phone broke me from my explorations. I jumped up and ran upstairs to the demanding ring, leaving the contents still a mystery.

~~~

A week later, I carried the laundry downstairs to the washer. Humming to myself, I sorted darks from lights, into my regular waiting piles. I tossed the first load into the washer and brought it to life with the push of a button. Stilling humming an errant tune, I paused to shut the open storage door with a frown. The tune disappeared on my lips as I remembered the box I had discovered the week before. I never did return to unearth it's contents, as life busily spun me on to my next task. 

With curiousity peaked again, I approached the dusty box. A memory nagged at me, but I couldn't quite place it. I knelt on the concrete floor and felt a shiver run through me. Suddenly, the contents of the box didn't seem so important anymore, but a compunction drew me forward despite myself. I slowly lifted a corner of one of the flaps, feeling my heart flutter around its edges. I don't even want to know what is in this thing! My brain cried, but my fingers demanded I continue. They knew what I did not.

I took a breath to focus my running thoughts and peered into the small revealed rectangle. Dry newspapers gave up no hints, so I flipped open the other flap carefully. Crumpled newspaper. I released the breath that had disappeared within me. A dull glint caught my eye and I froze. My hand mutinied my soul's demands and reached out to the cold metal in the box. No! no! was all I could muster in a whimpering voice, but it was too late. My fingers tentatively brushed the metallic edge, even as tears began to fill my eyes and overfill their bounds. Slowly I pulled one, two, then three pieces of yesteryear's news world out of the box to reveal the trophy nestled inside. 

Water streamed down my face, as I attempted to blink vision back to me. It did not matter. I knew the name on the cup. I ran my hand over the lettering and broke. Sobs wracked my body. I convulsed and choked out my pain and loss, filling my husband's old relic with fresh grief. Why now? Why now had I discovered this snapshot of his past, when I had been so with it for weeks now. It hurt, this reminder of a reality that I could not change. His glory athletic days were long gone, swept away by the disease that had robbed his body of its health and vitality. It had robbed him of everything. It had robbed me of everything. 

It would be a year that he was gone in a few short weeks. I could never forget that date. It loomed on the calendar, but I had tried to busy myself to forget it. Now this old burnished trophy demanded memories and I was powerless to stop. I sat cradling its cold comfort in my lap, as it filled up with pain, anger, sorrow and tears. Its lie of Champion felt heavy, as I rocked back and forth on the unforgiving concrete. I did not want this award today. Any day really, but the wave would pass. 

Winner. 

I sighed deeply and gently brushed a travelling tear off the front of the award. It seemed to gleam a little brighter.

Winner...

Inspired by a Magpie Tale Prompt

peace

sleepy cat close
snuggled tight against my thigh
unspoken bonding

~purr~

meditative tones
drift gentle through night air
spiritual cleanse

~ohm~

silences in heart
encourage thoughts trickling down
from now weightless soul

~sigh~

were it all easy
to release day's lessons long
life would be complete

~peace~

An Ode to my Love

Perhaps it is the wine that tickles me,

but I envisage thee

and my heart swells.

My lips quiver with delight.

Ah, the words; what a plight!

The smile is all I can provide.

The sun leaves my view,

although it has barely touched you,

and I am a day closer to love.

A hug from your name,

No other is the same.

I ache with anticipation.

I must fill my glass

to make the night pass

and make my dreams a reality.

{}

Here is a taste 

of juvenile love's poetry;

A verse written

while I wandered Europe's backpacking trails

and my heart dreamed

of a lover missed

back home in Canada

Tuesday Torture

fire hydrant

• check

yield sign

• check

street light pole

• check

The great idea that some a$#@ole had to put another utility feature in my front yard

Leaving ME with a six foot high pile of dirt aside a giant gaping hole

That has now left me without the use of my phone...

• NO, not priceless
• FAILURE!!!

I am going to bed in hopes that tomorrow I will have a real live person to grumble at and see if anyone will care. 

   Don't call, as I cannot pick up...

The whole is right about there, but with the addition of a big pile of dirt on the road beside it.

The Mighty Zambezi

Back to Victoria Falls again! Lots of fun memories already, but now Miki and I were set to explore it all over again. With the falls as the main attraction, everything naturally revolved around them. There was a park surrounding the falls that you could wander through to admire the rushing waters as they tumbled into the waiting gorge below. Helicopters flew overhead to give the well-heeled tourists an aerial view of this magnificent Wonder of the World.  Bungi jumping headlong towards the tumbling waters far below was a favourite pastime of the young and brave at heart. I had already had a taste of the white water rafting that was a huge draw to the area back in December, but this time we had something else in mind.

As Victoria Falls is geared towards action and adventure, Miki and I jumped on board with our paddles at the ready. We spent our first night in Victoria Falls as two single ladies on the town, but first thing the next morning we climbed into a waiting jeep to take us to the river. This experience with the Zambezi River would be a little tamer experience than the white water rafting adventures advertised everywhere. We were headed upriver, to take in the gentler waters of the Zambezi via a canoe trip. Life jackets were still provided and the water got a little splashy in spots, but game viewing was the biggest attraction here.

Miki and I stowed our packs in the waiting jeep and settled in to enjoy the ride into the game park. Our cameras lay at the ready in our laps, as our guide chattered away about the landscape and the animals that lived there. We were not idle for long though. Elephants, impalas and baboons were spied by the throngs, as we paused to take in the natural beauty of the space. It is just an awesome experience to see wild animals in their natural environments; ie. baboons grooming each other (picking lice off companions and eating it – protein anyone?), elephants wandering in family herds ever protective of their young, giraffes eating leaves off the highest trees, impalas milling about munching on grasses until with a start they bound away. It is beautiful and surreal to be allowed these visions and an experience I would highly recommend for anyone.

Before long we arrived at the mighty Zambezi. We transferred to life jackets and canoes to paddle the rest of the way to our camp. Small rapids gave us little thrills, but the magic of the trip lay in the scenery. The warm waters buoyed us along, as we spied a myriad of birds and other animals on the river bank. The sun kissed our smiling faces and Miki and I thrilled to be alive in this incredible  place. No thoughts were cast to the ailing van or our missing travelling companions as we soaked up every moment spent on the glorious Zambezi. Even tales of the Nyaminyami river God weren’t enough to spoil our mood (Nyami Nyami is thought by the Tonga people to be the river God of the Zambezi River that controls life in and on the river – his mighty wrath leads to the river running red!). Our paddle down the river held nothing but joys on this day. A picnic on the river’s edge was wolfed down mid-day, before setting back out into the watercourse again. By late in the day, we reached our camp on the river’s edge where large tents were set up for weary paddlers. Outdoor showers helped to wash away the days travails and a hearty meal filled our rumbly bellies. Sipping beverages around a roaring campfire was a perfect end to an amazing day spent on the mighty Zambezi River. 

Just Desserts

1 hour drive

Life-guarding 4 kids, 5 & under

ham devoured

birthday cake & pie chaser

1 Caesar, 1 glass  each of red  & ice wine, 3 sambukas

=

1 big hangover as reward

-----

That is my Sunday 160

for you and Monkey Man

there are precious few other words rolling around in my noggin this evening

coulda used one less beer last night methinks

groan...

Reflection

Fifty-five little words

create a story to share.

Should I talk about weather

or a new affair?

No gossip to fill the fodder

and sunshine streams so bright,

So whatever shall I write

to spill into your starry night?

Maybe a tiny tickle

A piece of week’s visage

Swimming, drumming , writing;

that’s my mirage

Ps. In case you didn't know, it's Friday and G-Man hosts his weekly Flash 55 today.

Go check it out 

and see what all the fuss is about!

The Last Game Park

Hwange National Park; The largest game reserve in Zimbabwe, but also the last park for Miki before departing the continent. It was a bittersweet thing, but with the promise of many animals to be seen, we pushed the ailing van to perform once more.

Arnie wheezed into the park and we set up our campsite. The poor van was showing the wear and tear that we had suffered upon it during our overland adventures. We had no speedometer, the putty we had slathered on the muffler did little to abate Arnie’s noisy complaints, scratches were evident from the game park roads we had explored, as well as the beginning signs of rust from our salty ocean-side drives. The starter motor was a distant memory and a steady gas leak meant frequent petrol stops. The most recent woes that had begun to beset dear Arnie were a decided lack of get-up and go when the gas pedal was engaged, and the failure of our slider door to seal properly when closed. We found ourselves having to slam the slider shut  two, three times, or more. It was irritating at best, but Arnie still got us where we needed to go.

As we knew that the potential for game viewing was best at dawn, we settled in for an early evening in anticipation of the myriad animals we would hopefully spot the next day. There are over 105 different mammals that live in the park, as well as 400+ bird species. I had my check list handy, as I drifted off to sleep.

The sun was not quite nearing the horizon, when quiet rustling noises roused me from my sleep. Reflexively, I crunched my eyes tighter shut, not willing to accept the fact that it was a new day yet. Remembering that we were in search of animals that day, I peeled an eye open to inspect the interior of the tent. Still dark, but I could faintly see Miki’s eyes looking back at me. Neither one of us were great morning people (heck, it was still dark!), so no words were spoken in our early hour greeting. The sounds outside our tent were of Brett and Oliver preparing to leave for the game viewing. I pulled the blankets up over my head in protest, but started to stretch fingers and toes in anticipation of movement. Miki appeared to be attempting likewise.

The squeak of one of Arnie’s doors quickly had me emerging from my blanket cocoon.

I started to sit up, as Miki said, “What are they doing?”

We both stared at each other, as it become obvious exactly what they were doing. The soft crunching of Arnie’s tires on the earth let us know that the van was in motion. Brett and Oliver were quietly pushing it away from the camp.

“They’re leaving us!” I exclaimed in shock.

Miki scrambled to the door of our tent, just as Arnie’s engine sputtered to life. I sat up, stunned. She watched them drive away, then crawled back to her sleeping bag. In disbelief, we stared at each other, before a fury of words spilled out of our outraged lips. It was Miki’s last park, and they left us behind to go on a game drive without us. “SEXISM!” screamed in my mind, as we decried their selfish actions. It had been brewing, but we could not believe that they had actually went without us. Sleep was forgotten, as we cursed, questioned and plotted how to handle this turn of events.

By the time that Brett and Oliver returned, Miki and I were both up and dressed, clad in scowls for our friends. Our displeasure plain, we informed them that we would be leaving them. We all needed a brief respite from each other. No amount of apologies or explanations that “we would have been too long in getting ready”, could appease us. A brief mid-day game drive was undertaken, but Miki and  I were packed and headed towards Victoria Falls before the day was done.

to all that dare...

full of sunshine and smiles
(perchance that vitamin D
doth work?)
I brave the soggy stares
of myriad sombre folk.

November rain
is not to blame,
as clouds have only dropped
scant cool reserves
to shatter soul's sentinel refrains.

Nay, the gray
coat of depression lay
in another's arms
far from the weather's watch,
I do surmise.

Not for me to say
what causes this sad foray
rather perk up my orb
and throw Mama's ball of bliss
at the drowsy midlins that  surround me

You!

turn that frown upside down!!

You!

doe-si-doe down the middle!

Hup!!

All of you now;
let's kick up our heels
and let out a holler
for a release with a bray
unclogs energy fodder

I am stamping my feet
and raising arms high
searching for giggles
with my antics;
I try

a final whoop
another flung jig
sweat wiped from my brow
I bow and curtsy
for this fine shindig

What, you didn't know
that the party was in town?
Why it's Wednesday eve!
and the Oneshot crew
is having their slamdown!

I must hurry now
if I want to add mine
the clock's ticking down
and Midnight's curfew
is where they draw the line.

So join in the fun
and throw some words in the air
generous hearts wait to catch them
offering praise and courage
to all that dare...

------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay you good folk. It is late and I am no expert on this medium, but I have made an attempt at a reading.

Birds of a Feather

"Like birds of a feather, we flock together"

Here is a refrain that resonates in the heart of blogland. We come together to listen, share and offer support. While we all have questioned why we are here at times, and why we stay, the answer resonates on the very next page that pops up. It seems like when we have a need, that niche is filled by someone's page or another. I cannot tell you how many times I have found the exact words I have needed to hear, just when I needed them most. They are there in this lovely community that reaches out to support us all.

Yes, for you see, we are all kin come together to bond. We see ourselves through other's eyes and process. I have given hugs, gotten more and found understanding in a world that exists only in the ethers. I have laughed and cried, and sat back to ponder what it all means. True, some days it has a WTF quality, but the places that don't fit can be abandoned, to be replaced by sites that fit our needs better. As we are all unique individuals, the wealth of blogs available to any one person, should be enough to fill anybody's needs.

And then You arrive. To let you in on a little secret, You are why I come back every day. For I need to write, but with you I can thrive. My words are rounder, fuller, more robust and I know it is because I write for you. Yes, my words are my babies and I love and nurture them from my heart, but you are there too. Thank you. 

I have spied awards on people's pages and have certainly received a few of my own. I had it in my mind to make some such thing, but I realized I don't need to. For those that stop by and read these words, know this is for you. Thank you for visiting and listening to my mind's inner workings. Scary thought some days, but I thank you none-the-less. I wish you peace and strength in all your characters to always find a way.  For as birds of a feather, we flock together. You are part of my flock and I wish you well for the general health of you and consequently me. 

Perspective

   A friend has arrived on my doorstep. She has flown the coop, if you will, in order to put her life in perspective. We sat fireside last night and talked and talked, drinks in hand and hearts on our sleeves. I cannot solve her problems, but I can listen. And feel. A life in flux is a familiar theme as of late and I offer what I can to those that I care about. I offer me, what little wisdom I have, when I can. It is what I do.

   I suspect that more words will flow as the day progresses. I left my friend to catch up on sleep, while I coffeed up to fuel myself for the day ahead. It might be a long day. I start the day with this song and it feels right to share today. Enjoy and I hope that your life gains insight in some little curve of it. Peace friends.

Keeping an eye peeled

Keeping an eye peeled

for something worthy to stretch

out of my niche for

A PA Day in November

At 3:00 PM this afternoon, the temperature went up to 17C (or 62F for my American friends). That was according to the Weather Network in my little corner of SW Ontario. It is mid-November and that has got to be pushing some kind of record (Yup, just checked the Weather again and we haven't seen that temperature on this day since 1964). I remember plenty a day when the world has been covered in white in years past. I know that Ms. C will slap me silly claiming I am jinxing the world, but I am still in a little bit of disbelief. It was just gorgeous with nary a cloud in the sky!

Ancient dinosaur wandering the woods

So rather than sit inside and cook, clean or tackle the never-ending laundry pile, we packed into the van and went a'wandering with friends in tow. It was a PA day for the girls, so a special treat to have such glorious weather to enjoy. We headed to a local park for the girls to play, then explored the forest surrounding it. My idea of a perfect day and these smiles give proof of the fun that we had.

The girls tamed the beast into a ride

Everywhere we went, we found giant stumps that I couldn't help but snap another picture of. The little hams were only too willing to climb up for their photo op.

After the woods were conquered, they ran back to the playground 

for one more round of swinging fun

Before calling it a day,

 noshing on dinner

and climbing into bed

 for sweet, sweet dreams

 of a day spent under a magnificent, clear blue November sky.

Remembrance Day - Lest We Forget

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

by John McCrae 1915

No Words of my Own

Just my poppy offered up

for those gone before

for my freedoms

...

Leaving the Light on

I sit in the silence of my own creation. 

for  this,

Today

I am grateful. 

I have peace in my little space.

My tears, a dear memory

held close to my heart.

They are a piece of my ever- following soul,

but they do not own me 

anymore.

 ~

Now,

tears of dismay 

flow heavy.

Too many shattered ghosts

treading through carefully crafted worlds

fallen apart

from false promises.

Lo, 

fine spirits spun out in flux 

on yesterday's prayers forgotten

~

I held love in my hand,

not perfect,

not always soft, kind or cuddly,

but steadfast and strong.

Is it so hard to believe

that my lumpen love

was the rarest golden ember

that others beseech,

reach for its flawed facets

when that ember speaks to all?

~

I hear the echo.

I see the waves that ripple 

through times turbulent

remember well my "enough?"

and feel

whimpering for those lost

that I cannot help

or point the way for,

but know

 that I will hold my light out to forever.

~

***

Swirling winds of separation

seem to be the norm in my friendship circle at present.

It makes me thoughtful and sad

for those walking that path of thorns

~loving thoughts sent to you all~

maybe...

It all started with a look;
first tentative glances
hidden under smiling brows and
my heart strung out on adrenaline's maybes
   oh yes, baby,
   maybe, maybe...


You looked at me
and my smile grew wider.
My soul tripped over clumsy feet
forgotten how to walk
  just want to talk
  and maybe walk...

A finger brushed,
then explored my waiting hand
while exploding senses
lit fire to the world.
   my sanity unfurled
   to maybe step in your world...

Now steps fall soft
and periphery cartoons
fade to tucked away corners
of my mind with a kiss;
   for this little miss,
   maybe just a kiss...

Swept into nevermore
on first love's bliss
memories shine and blur.
Was it really like this?
  heaven in a kiss
  or did I maybe dream this?

I hold the light
of fairy tale bright,
yet know that love's breath grows old
and shrugged shoulders cold,
but still I dream
love exists yet, I scream!
   the world echoes back
   Maybe, maybe...

()

I  believe in  fairy  tales and  lover's  eyes. 

My  heart sings poetry with every beat

& I live to hear those words resound.

Speak to me of love

and poetry.

Sing to me your OneShot

The Voice of Africa

    Bob crooned in my ear.

“One love, one heart. Let’s get together and feel alright.

As it was in the beginning! One love…”

    Ah, Mr. Marley; the voice of Africa. Everywhere we went we heard his songs played on tinny ghetto blasters. Arnie’s stereo was no better and you would think the monotony of the same 2 tapes over and over again would push one over the edge, but it just became the soundtrack of our journey. When I needed a break, I could always slip on the headphones of my walkman and disappear in the dark whining of Robert Smith from The Cure or John Waite’s sad lament in “Missing You” that reminded me of friends far from arm’s reach. Mostly though, I just sat back and hummed along to Bob Marley as the miles passed under our wheels in the pursuit of life and adventure.

    With time, our journey, like Arnie, was beginning to show the wear and tear from our travels. In Masvingo, we had patched the hole that was torn in the muffler from the road from hell in Mozambique. The patch was a temporary fix, and as the miles stretched out ahead of us again, the putty found it could not hold its muster. There were other signs that Arnie was getting tired of our constant pilgrimage as well; our starter motor was now completely done, our fuel efficiency was slowly slipping, the slider door no longer sealed easily, often requiring two, three or more shoves of the door to shut it tight. Yes, it was almost time to say goodbye.

    Goodbyes loomed large for more than just the van though, as our group steered along on the last leg of our journey. In a week’s time, the gift that had been presented to me by Fate’s own hands many months before, in the Johannesburg airport, would drift away from me, from us. It was time for Miki to go home. In a mere week and a half, she would be back in Canada, far from the dry landscape of Zimbabwe. Oliver would go his own way again. Brett and I would have to decide how much further we could push Arnie, before we propped a For Sale in his window.

    Today was not yet that day though. Today, we pushed on along twisty, turny roads. We claimed victory at another petrol station reached, and shoved off towards Bulawayo where a taste of city life would encircle us again. The roads were getting shorter though and Bob’s voice seemed poignant, as I stared at my travelling companion’s heads in the front seat.

Sing it Bob…

“No, woman, no cry;

Good friends we have,

Oh, good friends we’ve lost

Along the way…”

Waiting

Bereft of words

I sit quiet

staring at the leaves

that waver in the Autumn breeze

Waiting

for my miracle.

A leaf drops

drips down, swirls

and is blown away.

Is that it?

^

My offering for the Sunday 160

S A T U R D A Y B L A H S

With minutes to spare, do I have anything to say? Any great words of wisdom on my limp, lazy Saturday, where the closest thing to leaving the house was to get a trowel from the shed? hmm
Nope...

So I will leave you with some recent flower pics from the yard.

and one more...

Oops, caught me on date night with my boyfriend!

If it's Yellow...

“Voila!”, he proclaimed.

A small, blue oval was held aloft by the end of the needle-nose pliers.

“This was your problem,” he stated, as rain drizzled on our heads bent over the upside-down toilet lying in the grass.
 
My eyes grew large, as recognition hit me.

Grrr…


“Darling, little angels,” I exclaimed to his laughter.

Marbulous Marble Run

Oh G-man, that was my tale of woe for you in 55 words. 

Seen here is the blue disk discovered in its foiled escape from my house

The Tale of my Toilet: Yes, my darling little angels were the ones at fault for all my loo's woes. Just as I expected! The little blue oval  was the landing pad for the marble game game shown above. It was wedged in the last bend of my commode's siphon tube, trying desperately to be flushed out to sea. Alas, all it was doing was backing up water and whatever other contents were placed into the latrine, ahem. My tale does not have a shitty ending though, as life has returned to normal in the workings of my lavatory. And if you will excuse me, I think that the WC/Dunny/Privy is calling...

and remember, "If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown flush it down" So says Wikipedia, and so say I.

Bwahahaha! Happy Friday!!

Surprise!

“Happy Birthday dear Brettski. Happy Birthday to you!!!”

Brett blew out the candles on the cake and looked around at the small circle of faces around him. Noshing on birthday cake and sipping champagne was a great way to celebrate any birthday, but situated in the middle of Matopos National Park was quite another  way to celebrate one’s twenty fifth birthday. Laughter and cheers rang out into the African sky as we raised our glasses in toast.

***

Throwing a birthday party in the middle of a game park can be a bit of a challenge though. We had left Masvingo and dear Oliver behind. Oliver had been travelling with us since we left Durban way back in February. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but in actuality it had just been one month. We had also left the safe confines of Clovelly Lodge, as we headed West towards new adventures. Brett had requested game viewing as his birthday gift, and we were more than willing to acquiesce. Accoutrements for a party were not to be found under an acacia tree though, so Miki and I had our work cut out for us, to plan a surprise party for three.

When we arrived in Matopos, Miki and I went on a recon mission intent on surprising our recently recovered travelling companion. We mustered up birthday candles and a card to surprise him with, as well as a small cake and a bottle of champagne. All of these items we smuggled in amongst the general supplies, before we headed out to the park and set up camp. We were excited to be in a game park again and couldn’t wait to hit the game park roads.   

Early the next morning, with the sun not quite risen, Brett shook Miki and I awake to fulfill his birthday wish. I groaned, but yawned out a mumbled “Happy Birthday”, before slipping into my clothes. Brett was treated to wonderful birthday visions that morning. We spied warthogs and impalas, but the feast for our eyes was spying the elusive rhino. Not just one either; we saw six of them! By the time we headed back to camp for  a belated breakfast we were wide awake and ready to face the day. With coffee into us, we headed over to check out The Rhodes Memorial that claimed it was the “View of the World”. And yes, it was a pretty nice view. Unfortunately, it was clouded by the knowledge that Cecil Rhodes was a racist tyrant, but his place in the history of South Africa and Zimbabwe (Rhodesia back in his day) could not be denied.

We left the memorial and headed back to camp. In discrete moments, Miki and I tried to figure out how we would pull off the surprise that we were planning with Brett around. To our delight, he announced that he was going to go for a walk. We thrilled at the opportunity to set the table with all our goodies, but tried to  mask our outward enthusiasm.  I suspect he knew what was going on though, as he stalled  and putzed, and finally drove us nuts by heading into the tent where we had the cake hidden, with the claim that he wanted to fix his bed. In the middle of the day? Yeah, right. Eventually he left though, and Miki and I jumped into action. We set everything in place, then sat back to relax before the festivities began.  

Brett returned from his walk and we yelled Surprise! to his not so shocked looking face. No matter, he was thrilled with our efforts and the cork on the champagne was popped. The biggest surprise, that neither Miki nor I was aware of, came sauntering into our campsite at just that moment. Oliver, adamant that he had to spend Brett’s birthday with him, walked into our glen like he was stepping off the bus. We were a party of four again and it was the best darn 25^th surprise party that anyone had ever planned in the back countries of Zimbabwe. 

The Poem

Full of hopes and dreams

I pray.

Every word a purpose plotted

my gift to me

and the world

blown into the ethers

on wings of love and faith,

wishes for happy homes

in other people's hearts

If only,

if only...

It begins with me

indeed,

but syllables plucked 

from the air,

this artist's scribe

with words sprung from finger's pen

begging to fill

the voice of the wind

as authored by

whom; God's will?

or perhaps just me?

*

Always late to the table,

but still offering a few meager words to share

just to say I was there

at One Shot Wednesday.

Christmas Wish List #1 - Mushroom Field Guide for Ontario

While apple picking 

 we again spied mushroom glens;

A fairy ring found?

My girls just seem to stumble upon mushrooms this year and are fascinated by them.

me too : )

On the Xmas wish list;

1. Mushroom Identification Guide

The Raking Machine Strikes Again

One week ago, the tree beside my driveway was splendorous with leaves aglow bright yellow and orange with the last of the greens grasping on to their memories. 

It was a time of raking and rolling around with glee, in shirt sleeves none-the-less!

Well, those beautiful leaves have left their happy perches on the trees to nestle down in my yard. Trick or Treating last night was done with winter coats to keep the chilly temperatures from curtailing the fun. My eldest asked me this morning what the season was now, as Halloween and October were done. While I advised her that it was still Autumn, I wasn't so sure in looking out the window. 

Jack Frost had come to play, leaving helicopters grounded and the burning bush frozen in a shell pond. 

My proud dahlias bowed their heads, acquiescing that their time here was done. The faint purple of her petals destined to drop with the weight of the seasons change.

and everywhere I looked this morning evidence abounded. Here on the sedum,

there on the chives.

The seasons had changed overnight.

Ice crystals were a dead giveaway

on now last year's beautiful dahlia heads.

Even the straggling toad lily was struck down;

for shame...Ah

Ah, but I raked this morning; twelve bags I raked! I raked till I ran out of leaf bags, desperate to feel the chilly sun on my cheeks. I even filled the composter with a load and another load was stuffed into a garbage can  at the curb with the other leaf bags. In my heart, I know that the Fall days are indeed numbered and that one morning I just might wake up to a world of white, more solid than the frost coating my windshield this morning. Last week it whispered, but this week the threat seems infinitely real. I am afraid that snow angels are in my near future. My raking today brought the total up to 25 bags of leaves this year. Broke last year's record! If I can get out to buy a few more bags, I suspect that I will be able to smash that record though, as my neighbours are always good to share their leaves via the wind. 

So the bulbs have been dug up and the lawn mower's battery put to bed. Garden trinkets were put away a fews weeks ago. The hoses have yet to be drained and rolled away, but that should happen later this week. So many tasks before I retreat back into the cozy house to hibernate. I am wishing for a little more sunshine, but almost ready. Almost ready...