Award for Best Supporting Actor Goes To...

The bell rang signalling the end of first period. I walked out of Mr Warne's class with a new textbook, my class list, and a dull fear of how I was going to maneuver the rest of the school day minus the one thing that everyone else seemed to have—a locker. Somehow, I fell short in the locker lottery and would now be forced to carry all my possessions for the rest of the day. Scratch that, for the rest of the school year. Not so bad now with only one textbook in my backpack, but there were seven more classes to go, and sure to be many more books added to the load before the day was through. The office suggested sharing a locker with a friend, but that was something I had in short supply. I had squeaked through primary school with one and she now went to a different high school.

By my first spare, I had picked up a couple more textbooks, but no more friends. Always painfully shy, this would be far harder than solving a math equation or analyzing an English paragraph. I slipped towards the gymnasium looking for a corner to hide out in and ease my backpack off my shoulder. And that is when Nikki smiled in my direction.

"Hi," she said. "I think you were in my homeroom with Mr Warne. What did you think of him?"

"Um. He's alright I guess," I mumbled.

No one ever typically sought me out for conversation. I felt out of my depth, but somehow buoyed by her friendliness. She had mousy brown hair, an English Beat tee-shirt, and big, beige glasses that took over half her face. Just like mine did. And apparently she wasn't put off by my Bi-way cords or equally mousy haircut in a slightly light shade.

We chatted for a few minutes, and then she commented that my bag looked heavy.

"Yeah," I replied. "I didn't get a locker. I guess I'll have to get used to it."

"Do you want to share mine?" she asked.

And with that, I gained a best friend who would fade in and out of my life for years, but would always be there to share the load when I needed a friend the most.

∞∞∞

Today's 30-Day Writing Challenge though is two parts. The above is part one. The second half of the challenge is to imagine what life would have looked like if my supporting actor had not stepped into my world. 

How did they change you and how have they influenced your life? Try to imagine who you would be without them. Write that scene again but without them. 

∞∞∞ 

I walked out of Mr Warne's class. Barbie and Kelly pushed by me laughing at some inside joke I wasn't privy to. Kelly looked over her shoulder, as they got to their locker.

"Nice glasses," she muttered to Barbie with a nod in my direction. Both girls snickered cruelly, as they jammed their heavy backpacks into the shared space.

"Oh, look," Barbie added.

"Twinsies," she cried as another girl slunk out of the now empty classroom. "It's the nerd squad!"

I put my head down and quickly walked away from them. The weight of my backpack was nothing compared to the embarrassment that weighed me down by being centred out by the 'cool' girls. I might not ever had been overly popular, but being singled out to be picked on was more than I could stomach on my first day of school. My only friend from primary school went to another high school, leaving me alone in a sea of strangers. Anxiety swelled inside me as I fled away from their taunts. I was too scared to stand up to their cruelty and too shy to seek out the other poor girl who was sadly lumped into my geek domain. She didn't need that kind of stigma.

At the end of the hall, I escaped into the girls bathroom. Older girls stared at me, as I stumbled in. This wasn't the refuge I imagined. Those weren't friendly eyes boring holes into my cheap Bi-way outfit. I wouldn't fit in here either. Maybe I wouldn't fit in anywhere...

∞∞∞

Would it have gone down like that? I don't want to know. With a new friend at my side, I gained confidence to find my voice, to find my tribe, to find my path. I am blesses that she walks on my path still and has influenced my life for the better every step of the way. She is a positive role model and amazing cheerleader for anyone who needs the boost. She might have experienced her own ebbs and flows in life, but she sure isn't afraid to fight for what's right for the downtrodden, little guys, or marginalized. And her soul makes mine stronger to fight for the same rights for those in need in my neck of the woods. She is definitely one of the best supporting actors in my life. 💕

About Time

Happy New Year!

Words spoken by those in...  September?!

What?

But it makes sense. And it has been similar to the meaning behind the lyrics of Auld Lang Syne . I have been experiencing 'old home' month, if you will. Faces I haven't seen in years have filed by with smiles and hugs like nary a day has past. I've seen former work associates, co-workers, spoken to high school chums, and visited friends who moved away years before. Their link is in their happiness to see me.

Now, is it that I am so great a person? Well, not necessarily or else I would probably still see or talk to them all on a regular basis. Not that I am knocking me. Life gets busy. Sometimes Big 'L' Life gets in the way of living. We get so busy running that we forget to stop and smell the roses and enjoy the people along the way that have sniffed those roses with you.

It fills my heart to see their smiles. It does my soul good to hear them say they have been thinking about me. Where have I been? What have I been doing? How have I been keeping?

I ask myself, why haven't I been around then?

Well, J lives in BC and L moved to NY 14 years ago. JA is a 2 1/2 hr drive away, as is C in a slightly different direction. A, B and D work 10 minutes from my house, but the phone has been silent between us. And my excuse for S is what? I am too busy for a coffee break? What's wrong with me? Why can't I drive 45 minutes to see D and J or 1 hour to visit with J and L? I would love to see all of them. I know there is tonnes to catch up on and we could all use the tonic of the visit.

It is that dreaded Time. Or lack thereof. But it seems that time is pointing out there is plenty of reason to stay in touch. Relationships are worth it. And regardless of the quiet days that I spend typing on my computer, I do have a few relationships in my life. My friends are there regardless of time's passage.

And right now, I should make the effort to reach back out and step into people's lives. It is worth it. Time has bestowed the gift of remembrance on me. Perhaps it is time that I cash in on that offering.

Anyone care to sniff the roses with me this week?

Saturday's Email of the Week: Friends Forever

Saturday's Email of the Week

Day sped away 

gym, glowing games & gabbing girls

friends ♥ forever

~

I have a very good friend of mine visiting today, so have been away from the computer. Wonderful, but I noticed that I didn't have anything prepared for you. Ack! As I have spent many an hour laughing, giggling and chatting the night and day away, this little joke is all that I have come up with on last notice. You are lucky that I love you all and am willing to share this little Christmas present that I got.

Merry Christmas ladies!

(Pst. Shall I send him your way when I am done with him Ron?)

Santa sent me an email stating he's tired of delivering toys.  That he's too old to be flying all night across the globe and that starting this Christmas, he's sending his son, Santa Jr. . . .   

HO HO HO . . . . Merry Christmas my dear friends, behave so that Santa Jr. goes down your . . .chimney  :)

We came...

Did you hear that?

A little WooHoo from behind the camera?

That was either Ms C or me

As we jigged,
despite a stoic crowd

Might not be a hipster

But we’re still cool!

and that 160 characters does not come close to describing the fun that we had last night, on our evening out on the town. Love you babe! Thank you so much for inviting me along! Enjoy Monkey. Happy Sunday!

Well-Deserved Break Coming

Markéta Irglová opens. Iron & Wine headlines. Add to that dinner and drinks with Me, & I suspect that I’ve got the perfect evening in store. 13 days & counting!




And that is 160 characters folks! Haven't played in a long time, but thought it was high time. Go see Monkey Man for way more offerings!

Long Lost Friends

With money in hand, it was time to celebrate. First stop, grocery shopping.  I needed some staples in my depleted backpacking larder. With cheese, bread and cucumbers, I couldn’t go wrong. On my way into the store though, I bumped into Glenn. I hadn’t seen him since I left Harare, so we chatted for a few minutes to catch up. 

After leaving the store with my purchases, I headed back to the campsite to drop off my fresh wares. Lo and behold, but didn’t I bump into some other old familiar faces! Craig and Nina were full of smiles to see me again. While I remembered them, it took a minute to remember where I had met them before. In fact it was right here in Victoria Falls last March, when Miki and I had gone canoeing. We happily recounted stories of what we each had been up to since last we met. While my wanders were an exciting tale to share, theirs were even better. They had just gotten married! The happy couple had found a most romantic spot on a small island in Lake Tanganyika, Tanzania and tied the knot with a small gathering of friends and family to witness their nuptials. Ten people were plenty at their intimate gathering and now they were on honeymoon backpacking through Africa. They even had Nina’s parents backpacking with them, which impressed me thoroughly for their fortitude.

We parted ways and I continued on with my day. I was in for yet another surprise though. As I walked down the stairs in the plaza, another familiar face caught my eye. Again I could not place it, but sure enough I did know this stranger. And who was this new person, but Barbara. Her husband Jap joined us and soon the three of us were excitedly chatting away in the middle of the street. Where do you suppose I had previously met these good folks, you wonder? It wasn’t Victoria Falls, Tanzania or even Africa for that matter. I had stayed at Barbara and Jap’s house in Enschede, Netherlands 2 ½ years before that. They were cousins of the ex-boyfriend of my travelling companion at the time, when I had backpacked through Europe. Complicated, but the short story was that Barbara and Jap had allowed their house to be my home base for a few days, while I poked about the Netherlands.

The middle of the street was not a great place to update each other on all that had passed though, so we agreed to go for a beer at the camp bar. As we laughed and joked about seeing each other in such a remote place, Nina and Craig, plus their parents, materialized and joined us. Soon enough the beers had flowed to make us all a little giddy. When some local entertainers took to the stage (or rather a clear space on one side of the patio), we had another round of beers, while we watched them sing and dance. I talked, laughed and had a marvelous evening, such as I hadn’t in what seemed like ages. I was amongst friends and it felt good. I had even seen Ndaba and Keith earlier in my wanders. They of course were easier to place, as they lived and worked in Victoria Falls. I had met them on previous excursions while white water rafting. I had yet to bump into Max, whom I had a soft spot for, as he had been my first white water rafting guide way back in December. Regardless, I was in my glory with so many familiar faces around me.

At the end of the night, I wobbled home to my sleeping bag on the ground underneath a tree. It was far from a luxury, but it felt like coming home none the less. A smile played across my face, as I drifted off to another night’s sleep in Zimbabwe. 

The View Out the Window

I watched the world fly by through the window of Eddie’s land cruiser now. I was headed south, re-tracing my steps back to South Africa, and eventually home. Today’s stop was in Karonga, Malawi where we picked up supplies. Eddie and John went shopping, while the other John and Catherine got out to stretch their legs and browse around Karonga. I stayed back in the land cruiser to scribble a few words in my journal and process where I was at. As there was no money in my wallet to spend anyway, it made more sense to stay put and hence keep out of trouble.

Gladly, trouble seemed to be skirting my world for the moment. Neale was long gone and Nimesh was a friend that I could hold in my heart, if not close enough to offer a personal hug in my arms. I reflected on the other friends that I had met on my journey. Dear Brett had been an excellent travelling companion, bar none. Miki had been the surprise ghost from my past, that had set me off on a path of adventure that I surely would not have stumbled upon on my own. The family that I was lucky to have been rekindled with had filled me full of a heart-song that I had never known and would cherish the rest of my days. There were many others too, like Ian, my erstwhile man in Harare, Stuart and Rob, my house mates in Lamu, Oliver and Taro, other faces that graced us with their presence in our van Arnie. The list went on and on. As I sat alone in the land cruiser though, I felt slightly hollow realizing that it was all coming to a close. While I might yet get a chance to see Max, Keith and Ndaba in Victoria Falls when I arrived, I just as easily might not.  At this rate, who was to know?

All I knew for certain, was that I was very lucky to have picked up the ride with Eddie at the helm of his “Tusker” fleet. He came to me at a point when I needed a sign. His offer was surely the most glaring sign I could have asked for. When I was not sure which way to go, he gently led me to the path home. And at that moment, when I looked up and saw him ambling towards the land cruiser, I knew that it was meant to be. In a week’s time, 1500 kilometers would pass under the vehicle's wheels. That was a lot of time to think about the days past and the days to come, but for now I scrambled to offer whatever help I could before we hit the road again. Repacking done, I wedged my growing backside back into the seat and picked up my view out the window again. Livingstone, ho!

A Hindu Celebration

A tear slowly slipped from my travel-worn cheek, as the bus turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Nimesh stood beside me, respectfully letting me have a moment. In the end, it had been him that had lent Neale enough money to catch a bus North. Neale was headed to Nairobi, hoping to find a cheaper flight from there. I, on the other hand, had to face facts that my travelling days were dwindling to a close. With Neale gone, my heart was no longer in the adventure. It was time to turn towards home.

“Let’s go home,” Nimesh said, breaking my sad thoughts.

“Yes,” I replied. Home, my mind echoed.

Home today was not a bed in my mother’s house though. Neale and I had been taken under Nimesh’s protective wing and now he insisted that I stay with him for the night before leaving Dar es Salaam myself. Tomorrow I would be meeting up with Eddy to hitch a ride South with him in one of his company's jeeps. He was an American fellow that ran a small safari company catering to wealthy American tourists. He had just completed a trip from his home base of Livingstone, Zambia to Dar es Salaam, and now was returning home to rest for a few days before doing it all over again. He had room in his jeep for a stow-away and all I had to pay for was my meals. Meeting Eddy, with his gift of transportation South, had been the sign that told me I was not meant to try to scrabble my way North with Neale. We had promised to meet up again in the future, to travel further together, but the fates had said “not now”.

So I followed Nimesh through the familiar streets of Dar es Salaam, now a little emptier without the large figure of Neale beside me, towards the outskirts of the city. Nimesh lived with his parents and brother in a small home that consisted of two bedrooms and a kitchen. It was comfortable, if not spacious. There was no running water inside, but a tap was outside to bring in water to cook with. There was also no real water closet (WC), but I was directed towards an area where I could void when I needed to. I had been in Africa too long to balk at their primitive hole in the ground. Their “toilet” was cleaner than many I had seen anyway.

In fact, I was more than thankful that Nimesh’s family had agreed to take me in for the night at all.  For them, having a visitor was a cause for celebration, so as soon as I arrived any sad thoughts I had were flung away and I was dragged into the centre spotlight of a grand hoopla. After leaving my shoes at the door, Nimesh’s mother, Jasvanti, took me in hand and hugged me warmly. She had heard the many stories from her son of the big South African man and young Canadian girl that travelled with him. What I didn’t realize, was that in the stories she heard, Neale and I were married! Many questions poured forth about how we met, how long we had been married for, and when we would meet up again. While I felt a little awkward in this little white lie, I reassured them that we would be meeting up again soon in South Africa, then be jetting off to Canada together. Our married life for the last year and a half had been grand! I hoped that no Hindu Gods would strike me down for these little fibs that seemed necessary to maintain a sense of decorum for my generous hosts.

Questions and joviality continued on, as the tea was poured. This was a precursor to the feasting that would follow. I had fallen in love with the sweet tea in Tanzania, so enjoyed it immensely. My eyes popped at what came next though. Exorbitant amounts of food were presented to me, and I was encouraged to eat, eat and eat some more! It was all delicious and I wasn’t exactly sure how to politely say I was full, so kept eating the excellent dishes that were presented in their finest wares. When finally they let me groan back from the eating area smoothed out on the floor, I thought that perhaps I would get a chance to rest, but no. Now it was time for dancing!

What had I gotten myself into, I wondered, as Jasvanti insisted that I change. My belly was straining at my clothes already, but my thin traveller’s garb was not good enough for tonight. I needed to get pretty! A sari was the only thing fit for the occasion. “Ok,” I acquiesced as yards of fine silk were pulled out of Jasvanti’s wardrobe. I stood still as she expertly wrapped me in a length of pink checked fabric, lined with blue and a band of white, and decorated with squares and circles throughout. A light blue top was donned underneath, before the end of the long silk was draped across my shoulder.

“Now we need some makeup!” Jasvanti declared.

I suspected that she would have loved to have had a little girl of her own to dress, but she made due with me today. Bangles were produced and a necklace was declared perfect as it was slid over my head. My lips sported a bright pink that matched my sari, but there was still a missing piece to be put on – a bindi. I had to have one. Jasvanti found a pretty oblong one that was attached with an adhesive backer. I had no idea that bindis could be stickers! Hers was a simple red dot painted in the middle of her eyebrows, by comparison. finally finished, I was a sight to behold. 

“Go get the camera,” Jasvanti urged Hemendra.

Nimesh’s brother ran off to find the missing camera, as I looked at my transformation. Jasvanti declared me beautiful and I certainly looked special, but I wondered at the pictures. Before I could protest though, Hemendra was back with the Polaroid and I was placed in front of the altar for a  photo shoot. After taking pictures of me with every member of the household, in different combinations, I was finally allowed to undress and retire for the evening. It had been quite the day and not one that I would forget for a long time to come. I needed to sleep though. Tomorrow I would be on the move once again. 

A Goodbye

heart

filled  up

with a thousand 

sparks  of  disbelief

over  the  loss  of  you...

Alone 

to  face

tomorrow

no direction 

to claim as safe

when I crumple

to the floor

in grief

with

out

u

~

A funeral for a friend of the family has me preoccupied and sad, as the world spins on tonight. Another spark is pinched out just when it is needed most. Strength to you Pat.


Blessings George. May your journey to the beyond be well...

Feathered Friend

Little bird tapping
on my wet window pane
come in from the rain

ah, you knock again

my camera cannot capture

your thoughts today

Dear gold finch friend
insistent on coming in;
thanks for the company

Friends Along the Path

Within a short time, I was amongst friends again. It is amazing how when you travel, you can make friends at the drop of a hat. Your backpack alone gives you that first thing in common. The road erases your differences and you embrace people for their smiles alone.  It still amazed me though; that ease of friendships formed. Back home, you can pass a million faces and not look at any of them. Or worse, not talk to anyone for fear of the what ifs and the dreaded maybes that could harm you from the “strangers” that filled the world. As I ambled along though, all those strangers were friends that I just hadn’t met yet. I was ready and keen to meet them all.

The newest friends in my roster were Stuart and Rob. I met Rob in Malindi. After my long and uneventful night bus from Nairobi to Mombasa, I quickly moved along to Malindi. The plan was to explore Mombasa later on my way back through town. For now, I was headed  North on my adventures.

In the pleasant town of Malindi, I met Rob at the hostel where I stayed. Over the two days that I explored the coastal town, I got to know Rob a little bit. He was a quiet sort that had a bit of a weird feeling to him, but we discovered that we were both headed to Lamu, so decided to join forces along the way. Heck, we are all weird in our own ways and being a traveller made anyone alright in my books. Despite our differences, we were still on the same path.

So waving goodbye to Malindi, Rob and I climbed on board the bus to Lamu. It stopped on the side of the highway to pick up us dusty travellers, then we were off again. We found a seat and right ahead of us was Stuart, another backpacker. He was travelling alone from Mombasa, also headed to Lamu. We got to talking and figured that perhaps sharing a room between the three of us would help to stretch our traveller’s dollars a little further.  

Once it was decided, we all got to know each other a little bit better. Stuart was much more dynamic than Rob and we instantly clicked. We had similar taste in music, food and conversation flowed between us like water. By the time the bus pulled up to the ferry dock, I felt like I had known him for years. Rob, Stuart and I laughed and joked waiting for the ferry that would take us across to the island. I was excited to get to know another new place with my new friends. While it wasn’t a long crossing, by the time we reached the other side and landed on the vehicle-less island, I knew that my travelling companions were a good match for this new adventure. Lamu shimmered in front of us, like an oasis ripe for exploring. I faced it smiling. 

An Offering

You are not alone

- not walking with silent steps.

I hear and catch tears 

falling behind those scarred hands,

then offer them to the rain

~

I am also going to link in a very late entry

to One Shot Wednesday

making the call

Fighting back the tears

I reach for 

Help...

"Please help"

I can not do this anymore,

not alone.

I can no longer fight

the war that will not be won.

and I am bleeding...

the shaking begins 

 the story pours out

along with a single,stray, suppressed

tear

i can not do this anymore

i hurt, i ache 

with every beat of your heart

my fears explode

Your ocean drowns me

 nascent blisters pop

unrecognizable excuses of life 

into my face

I shudder - not able to turn away

please help - I can no longer do this

the life raft I offer

is faded, peeling from 

disuse

I can not do this anymore

...

Hakuna Matata

“Hakuna Matata! What a wonderful phrase.”

While this is a line from “The Lion King”, I learned it in Kenya. No worries, indeed. I heard this Swahili phrase everywhere I went. While I perhaps should have had a worry or two, this phrase stuck with me though. I held faith that everything would work out for me, as I travelled along.

At present, I gazed out the window of the Sunrise B&B into a throng of waiting taxis. There was a constant buzz of traffic, horns, music and people’s voices in the air. It probably wasn’t the best neighbourhood, but I wouldn’t be staying for long.  I had spent a few nights there before I went to the Masai Mara, and now had returned for a mere few hours. Only long enough to have a last visit with Amin and his wife. I had met him in a take-away the week before, and he had been the one to recommend this particular establishment. It wasn’t overly pretty, but it certainly had character being in the heart of this bustling neck of the woods. I didn’t go out after dark though.

Meeting Amin had been a God-send that I didn’t take lightly. Aside from the little packet of goodies that his wife had made up for me for my night bus to Mombasa, he had given me something much more valuable. This Edmonton, Alberta local was filled with the spirit of adventure himself. He had recently relocated from Canada and while his wife was still having a difficult time with the transition, their faith in “Hakuna Matata” was contagious. He had buoyed me up when I felt threatened with depression at my dismissal from the overland truck and now urged me on to the adventure ahead. He reminded me of the thrills of the road, and I could tell that he would love to take flight again, if the opportunity arose. His wife seemed only to dream of a flight back to Canada, but she gamely struggled on.

So for me, my road that night would take me on a dangerous adventure, from the accounts I had heard thus far. At 9PM, I would be taking the night bus to Mombasa and be rejoined with the coast. While I looked forward to arriving on the Indian Ocean, it sounded like my chances of arriving would be fraught with peril. More than one person that I met had fear in their eyes when I said that I was on the night bus. They told me stories of vehicles without lights colliding, the dangers of hitting animals on the road, as well as the threat of hijacking. I tried to take it all in stride, but I have to admit I was worried. By 9PM, it would be too late to do anything about it though, except for hopefully sleep some of my fear away. 

Good People

Happy Friday my friends!

I have been working away today, studying trees, Mother's Day ideas, new social media avenues and working on my newest Twitter presence. I took a quick break to take a peek at my blog and was pleased to see all the comments I received from yesterday's post. You guys are all too sweet!

So I will dedicate this video (from one of my favourite bands - Great Big Sea) to you "Good People" today. Hope you all have a lovely weekend and Happy Mother's Day to all the Mommas out there!

Life of a Courier

Oh, silly girl. Late for my very first day! Not a great way to make a good first impression, but you cannot turn back the hands of time. Ian had convinced me to go out for a last hurrah on my final night in Harare and it would seem that I either forgot to set my alarm, or just plain slept through it. I was lucky that the truck was still there at all, as I choked when I rolled over to see that the time was 50 minutes past when I should have been at our meeting destination.  The truck was loaded and ready to go, when I ran up breathless with tail between my legs. I sheepishly threw all my worldly possessions into the storage bay under the truck and slunk on board praying that I would be able to improve the opinion I was sure Kylie and Angus now held of me. 

By hook or by crook, I was on the road again.

It took a few days, but my training crew slowly began to warm up to me. With a five-week training trip to get to know everything about how to be a courier, I had a lot to learn. I had to be friendly and informative with passengers, able to book day trips, organize grocery shopping, navigate road maps, maintain regular upkeep of the truck, have fun, but still keep some kind of balance in that fun so that I could function the next day. With the history that I had accustomed myself to in Harare, that last one was proving to be the most difficult.

The first week of the trip was a bit of a review for me. We visited a game ranch, where rhino were spied and some ice breaking was in order with a game of polo cross. The guests on the truck then took in the ruins at Great Zimbabwe.  I opted to stay back, as I had previously explored the ruins and the weather was a little too wet and cold for me. Despite it being the dry season, this May was unseasonably wet with more rain falling than had been seen in many years. The gray clouds matched my mood though, as I pined for my old travelling companion Brett. I missed him terribly and wondered if I had made a mistake in separating from him. We didn’t stay put long enough for me to dwell too much on it though, as we were off to Lake Kyle, then Bulawayo, before heading to my old favourite destination of Victoria Falls.

As the days passed, it was questionable if I was in fact sabotaging my goal of working in Africa at all. Every time we came across another overland truck, as we invariably did on a pretty regular basis, I was thrown back into temptation again. My food, transportation and accommodation were paid for by the company, but beer was also included and I seemed not to have enough wherewithal to be the consummate professional that I wished to fashion myself as. 

By the time we got to Victoria Falls, I was hobnobbing with all my old friends and enjoying every minute of it. The first day, I bumped into Nat and Keith while I wandering with a few of the truck’s passengers.The night after that, I was hanging out with Max and Ndaba like they were long-lost friends. My blood-shot eyes stung constantly from lack of sleep and the pax laughed at me for my antics. I was always game for the next adventure though and dug in for white water rafting with relish. I gave my support to the girls who dove off the bridge for beautiful bungi swan dives as well, despite not joining them for that adrenaline thrill. My thrill was to see if I would last as an overland truck courier. The odds were stacked against me. 

Bloom in Heart

I am in a land

down under, past watchful eyes

to a friend's warm heart

We shall dance and sing

of heart's pain, love and passions

with pure love's embrace

so fare thee well

until I return too soon

to word's daily grind

The Visitor

Stumbling in
with a fearful grin.
Will they show smiles
or toss me out to snow piles?

Why soever do I doubt
my fain erstwhile clout
for hugs did abound
& remembrances astound

dear friends counted true
time no match for you
inquiries honest thought
and sincerity truly bought

This passage marches on
and workmates, some gone,
but delightful none the same
despite leaving the repair game.

For they were mates by
punch-clocks cry.
Yet friends of mine
those forever I find.

$$$

Hey-

I can just barely squeak this under the wire

I am going to link this up to One Shot Wednesday

and perhaps do a little more visiting tomorrow.

Walk This Way

Brett was sitting at a table with a ridiculously huge grin on his face and a beer in front of him.

“Hey Mate!” he exclaimed, as he weaved his way to standing to give me a hug. “Good ta see ya! I’ve been to the Carlsberg Brewery.”

The crooked smile on his face gave proof that the tour had been a good one. I couldn’t help, but laugh. I ordered a beer and sank into the chair across from him to hear what he had been up to since I saw him last a few days ago. The 14-hour bus ride slowly slipped off my shoulders as I watch him giggle and titter. He was pretty soused and very willing to talk. Not sure if it was his silly grin or just being off the bus in general, but I was pretty happy to see him.

“…and then I jumped up on a chair and was just grabbing handfuls of them. The other bloke was waving a net around and catching mitt-fuls of ‘em! It was awesome!” he spluttered.

“Grasshoppers?” I queried. “Why? What were they going to do with them?”

“Why, eat ‘em of course!” Brett laughed.

My face contorted in a grimace and I could not be help but exclaim “ew”

He cackled and slapped his knee. He really was quite drunk and funny to watch.

Brett went on to explain. “They come across the lake this time of year and people go bananas! It is a feast for everyone. They scrape the little buggers off the walls, and floors, and wherever, then toss them into a little oil to fry‘em up.”

“Blah!” I exclaimed, as he shook with laughter again. “How many did you catch?”

“Hundreds of “em mate!” he said. “They were everywhere! It was excellent fun.”

I shook my head and smiled at his enthusiasm.

“Tomorrow, I will take you to the market so you can try some,” he said.

I wasn’t so sure I was interested in trying grasshoppers, but replied “we’ll see” to appease him. We sat in the bar until Brett’s stories became illegible and I had a pleasant glow on. He kept on rambling on about this and that until I had to pack him up and take him back to the hostel. I promised him that I would try grasshoppers when we went to the market the next day, still shaking my head at his animation. The way he talked, they were like manna from heaven, but I would find out for myself.

Oh, and really, they aren’t manna at all. While I did pull off their wings, I was not instructed to pull off their legs, so couldn’t get beyond them “walking” down my throat. Yeah, not my idea of a delicacy I’m afraid. You should try it if you get a chance though. They are a great source of protein! You might like it. 
Blah…

Gotta Go!

With 2 birthday parties

on either side of town,

a present to buy

& diner to prep

for friends and family

coming over tonight

the computer is the last place

I should be.

*

but I cannot help

but throw my 160

out there for Monkey Man's

Sunday 160.