Rambling thoughts · Weekly blog post

A little dose of cat hair

If we were having coffee the first thing you’d notice is our oldest cat Big Ben, or Ben for short.  I think he’s around 18-20 years old now.  We don’t know his real age because he was a rescue with a sad tale of abandonment.

Cat laying down
Ben – that adorable black mark on his nose

Don’t you worry though.  For the last 15 or so years he’s enjoyed the good life.  He’s an indoors man, who gets to bask in the warm sunlight and eat all day long.  He sleeps comfortably wherever he wishes.  He’s a talker too.  Open up a cheese slice, and he chatters non-stop.  Unfortunately he can’t have the treats like he once did, but he does manage to talk you into a just a wee bite.

Ben is a very loving cat.  The down side to his love is his thick coat.  The white hair is everywhere!  No matter how much I vacuum it still remains.  I have to warn people all the time that if they begin to pet him, they will leave with part of him.  His hair clings to everything.

We love Ben! He’s the most interesting cat in the world, and we will be sad to see the day when we have to say our good-byes to him.  Hopefully that won’t be anytime soon.

Daily Post · Rambling thoughts

He loves my curves

I’m 47 years old, a mother of four and married to a man who thinks I’m beautiful!  Life should be great.  Yet, the nagging thoughts of those bumps, rolls and shall we call them ‘curves’ can cause me great personal pain.

As I look back on the photos of my 20’s I see my younger body, with the tight tummy, the tiny little breasts and the tighter butt.  Now though through a combination of age, bad diet and lack of exercise I’m about 2x the size I was back then.  I was a 5, now I’m a 10/12 in dress sizes.

There was a time I use to really beat myself up over my new curves.  I stopped doing that, most days.  Instead I see myself the way my family does, especially my husband.


He’s always adored this body, no matter how big those curves got.  He mentions that I still have great hips with a waist curve he can’t get enough of.  So for women out there that are looking into their mirrors and see only the negative, look again.  Those curves are what make us women.  They define our beauty.  For every curve there is a reason for it being in just that right place.

So be proud, and never regret not having the straight body…because women let’s be honest even those girls have curves, they are just more subtle.

Written for Daily Prompt: Curves

Daily Post · Rambling thoughts

Hey that’s mine!

Have you ever walked out to the parking lot only to realize that you’ve lost your car?  It stirs a moment of incredible worry for some people.  Of course you do eventually find the vehicle, and with a sigh of relief you drive home or to your next destination.

Now consider this.   Perhaps it was your bike that you’ve lost.  You had chained it up as safely as you could using the best gauge of metal, wrapped in thick plastic and with a custom keycode.  It should be in the same place when you return, but it isn’t.  It’s gone!

In our community this is called borrowing.  It’s outright stealing, but the difference is that the individual who took your bike just needs it to go from point A to point B.  They do not want to sell it.

I’m not sure what is going on in peoples’ minds today towards value of property, or of self. It all seems to be steady slipping away.  Is that what we have become?  Are we developing into such a society that we proceed to infer that we own everything, and that everything can be bartered for.

There are many things in life you cannot borrow, yet we make reference to that phrase all the time. “Can I borrow you for just a minute?”, is a favorite of mine.  Actually no, you can’t because once my minute is gone, it’s gone.

Borrowing, to me has become an excuse for not taking responsibility for your own self.  It’s a poor excuse, but one that has become prolific.  So please, stop borrowing!  Ask politely to use other peoples time, energy, resources, and possessions, then give it back.  If you don’t return the borrowed items, then you have stolen it from the individual who generously gave it to you.


Written in response to The Daily Post: Borrowed

Daily Post · Rambling thoughts

Do you miss me this much?

If we were having coffee you would see the smile on my face as I think about you.

Today the morning sky is bright and blue; yesterday they were filled with grey bleakness.  I love days that begin brighter, but I miss you.  They show me that each day passes, with a new one taking it place.

This morning I got up, ate breakfast, and went to work.  Just another typical Saturday, but without you.

The house is quiet, except for the roaring sound of the furnace as it blows its warmth into the chilly rooms, reminding that you are gone.  There is no one else here.  I am alone in my thoughts.  My memories flash to times that we laughed, cried, fought and loved.  I miss you.

I know we’ll see each other soon enough. When you return, and we sit under the stars, I will listen to the wondrous adventures you had while we were apart.  In my heart I will wonder have you missed me as much as I have missed you?

Sunset sky


Rambling thoughts

When words are never spoken

Silence is not golden.  Harsh words said in anger cause lasting pain.  Subtle messages disguised as jest perpetuate the undercurrents of the changes we want changed.

When words are never spoken the world continues as it always has.  There are loud voices, and there are small ones too.  It’s interesting to see how technology has changed the way we use the power of words to influence those around us.

Combining our message with video, cartoons and emoticons we have developed a new language.  A new age of communication that seeks to inform the world of what we will and will not stand for; inequality, hatred, abuse, suffering, war, etc., yet at the same time we continue to expose the pain of others for our enjoyment.

It would seem no matter how you look at which side you stand for, positive or negative there will always remain a mix.  Don’t believe me?  Have a look at what you read, shared online, or have captured in prose or image.  What pleasure have you derived from this?  What message did you expect from others?

In a complicated world of mixed messages it is no wonder we are confused about the issue of peace, love, and personal worth when there is always the opposite directly in our path.

There two sides to every message we send out into the world.
Model dressed as pilot
Objectify women as part of a joke – aviationhumor.net
Photos · Rambling thoughts

Missed coffee due to ice storm

If we were having coffee, it would be outside on Sunday morning at 6:30 am with our cameras fighting the bitter cold winds, while trying not to fall down on the ice covered concrete of the boardwalk.  Ah yes, the quest of every photographer – the morning light.

Living on the shores of the St. Clair River across from Port Huron, Michigan the northern winds can cause the waves to crash up to 30 feet high, and pushing the spray up to 80 feet back from the shoreline.  The resulting chilly wonderland is breathtaking when the temperatures drop.

After the heavy winds of Saturday subdued, I seized the opportunity get up early and capture the golden hues of sunrise as it pushed through the cloudy skies before yet another snow storm hit our city.  While the storms have been small, the ice they leave behind is amazing!

While the following morning lacked the splash, the images where just as beautiful.  My only wish is that it hadn’t been so cloudy.  The slightest pink sunrise was very fleeting, and the poking of the sun was all too brief to get some sparkling images of the ice.

I’m sorry I missed our coffee date this weekend, but the benches were too cold to sit on anyway.

coffee date 04 10-
Frozen benches look like sculptures
Photos · Rambling thoughts

Fish don’t watch TV

Every year as spring approaches the winter ice flow pushes litter that laid deep beneath the water, leaving it exposed and raw.  The beach is lateen with trash!  The ugly truth to our unconscious actions revealed.  Instead of the inviting sands provided in the summer there is the disgusting results of our shameful activities.

In 2009 while visiting a favorite spot our family found an old TV screen on the beach.  The plastic sides encased in Zebra Muscles making it look like a trinket from an ocean gift shop!  Sadly this is what is in our Great Lake waters.

I wonder how it ever it made into the water, or better yet, who would have thrown it away when it could have been recycled properly.  Was it all together when they tossed it into the water?  The prevalence of garbage on the beaches after the winter thaw is always disheartening.  The amount of plastics we find is increasing each year.

Our family tries to help clean up the areas where we visit.  Taking along a bag of our own, we pick up trash and deposit into the bins for pick up. Unfortunately our bags are made of plastic too.  There doesn’t seem to be much else around these days.

I remember having the choice to have paper or plastic bags at the grocery store.  Now the push is on for adding to the income of the plastic producers as you have the option of purchasing the five cent disposable bag or the two dollar recycled plastic coated sacks to reduce the use of disposable ones.  It’s an unwinnable argument on recycling.  The plastic from the disposables make the other, but regardless of which neither will break down.

When the times come, and we finally realize the amount of garbage produced outweighs us in pounds, what will be our solution?  We’ve destroyed where we live in the name of everything we can think of, yet we’ve also tried to save it a bit at a time.  The question on my mind, will there ever be a balance?

Look around you; how many items within a three foot radius are made from plastic.  The keyboard your typing on, your mouse your navigating with, the screen you’re reading my words on, and even the speakers you’re listening to music through… all plastic.  The modern age of progress is killing us, yet I don’t believe we have the capacity to stop the evolution of destruction to our planet.  We’ve all become so technologically advanced, connected as one, that to take away the element of plastic would be like a death to our civilization.

Photos · Rambling thoughts

Where have you been?

My family grew up with the railroad in our blood it would seem.  My dad was a yardsman, my step-father an engineer.  In 2015 while visiting my oldest daughter in Markham Ontario we stopped downtown to view old locomotives.

They still thrill me, as I remember being in the engine sitting of the laps of men pushing cars around in the yard.  That was long before the age of tightened security and risk management.

The old shanty were Dad worked was torn down years ago, and the yard is mostly desolate these days as the lines are slowly shutting down.  As for the local commuter train, you have to be an early riser as it leaves once a day at 6:15 am, and returns late in the evening at 10:30 pm.

After Dad passed, Mom and I traveled by rail across the western provinces a couple of different times. I got to witness the Rockies from the inside, watched summer storms flash across the prairies from a car with a glass roof, and looked down into vast waters with nothing holding us up but a wooden bridge.  It was all astonishing.

I’m glad to have the good fortune to do all that traveling as a kid. seems most people just want to do everything quicker, and bring along all sorts of distractions.  Traveling by rail is slow, but it takes you on such an adventure just by watching out a window.

As I looked into the red window I could feel the ghost of the engineer leaning out into the fresh air, watching the rails ahead and I thought to myself, “I wonder what he saw all those years while traveling the iron?”


Daily Post · Rambling thoughts

Love letters are dead

It’s spring!  Well it’s supposed to be by now, but here in Sarnia, Ontario we received six inches of heavy wet snow.  Just two days ago we were all wearing sweaters.  Yes this is a typical Canadian spring.  The weather reminded me of how quickly things change, yet stay the same.

As the weather warms our natural instincts to clean our “nests” kicks in.  We inevitably sift through the dusty buried boxes found in our antics, alcoves and closets; checking for what is good, and what is ready to be donated. Stored away we will discover items drawing us to memories from days gone. Some items will filled our hearts and eyes with tears of joy, or sadness as we let our mind meander back to yesteryear.

Are love letters dead?  Have they disappeared like most everything else with any human touch in this modern world of technology?  Our written words have been replaced with blogs, emails, the simple single letter text like “K”, and emoticons.

YouTube video: Young couples attempt to write a love letter.

Handwriting is becoming a lost art!  Children in grade school are no longer taught how to write cursive, let alone how to read it.  Instead everything is typed out on computers.  The emotional sense of pouring your heart out in words onto paper has been replaced with machine driven corrections such as, the back-space key, and the auto corrector (which is not very smart).  Missing are the tears stains, the misaligned words as they leap off the predesigned lines in hasty writings, the scribbling and crossing out of words as our thoughts race across the paper.  Gone is the sense of personality behind the curve of the characters.

As the age of technology has brought us closer around the world, it has left us without the emotions derived from holding the words written by our loved ones.  The physical touch of the paper.  The yellowing stains that tell us that this was a piece of our history, all gone.

I wonder if in 100 years from now if anyone will know how to write in cursive.  Will it be some new historical lesson in our schools for scholars to study like ancient text?  I hope not.

Keeping memories alive

Receiving a simple handwritten letter from anyone is something to be treasured.  I hope if you undercover one you remember the importance of the words written.  Do not place these delicate memories back inside a darkened box, only to be forgotten; instead place them in a frame and hang them on the walls of your home.  For those words hold a special message written just for you.  The length of the letter isn’t as important as the words contained with.  This person wrote to let you know of their intention.  Be it about love, sorrow, loss, dreams, an invitation or something else, the message was personal.  It was written for your eyes.

Spring is here!  Let’s bring back the old before it is too late. Write a letter to someone, anyone.  I know postage for a single stamp is 80 cents in Canada, but for that few pennies a lifetime of memories can be made. Isn’t it worth it to our loved ones to keep our history alive for generations to come?

Read more about Handwriting on The Daily Post

Daily Post

A missed coffee date

If we were having coffee today Mom it would be wonderful!  It would be 13 too long.  Everyday I miss you, more so on days like today.  Joshua had to go to his great-aunts funeral, and we drove him to Petrolia.  The death was on his dad’s side.

On the drive out we chatted about how I’d like my funeral to be.  Jokes about bottom side up for parking the bike, to glass top casket with me naked and everyone attending coming as they were born.. nudge, they would all be naked too.  It lightened the mood.  You gave me a sense that life was about living, and I’d like to think I’ve passed that along your grandchildren.

Then we got onto the topic of the day of your funeral.  It was a great day.  You were always the joker, and even on that final day we let you do it your way.  We said good-bye on that cold November day, which also happened to be your birthday.  It seemed so fitting.

We had cake, balloons, and even sang “happy birthday” over your grave.  You gave us so much in life that death isn’t that scary of a thing.  Sadly even with all the rejoicing the pain didn’t stop.

Days like today I reflect back on those final few years we had together, and see so much more.  I wish we could have coffee so I could say how sorry I was for some of the things I had done.  At 47, I now understand some of what you were trying to impress upon me.

It’s too late to say the words I want to now, but I write them out.  To release the guilt, the pain I carry, and to say “I’m sorry” the only way I can.  You were the best mom I could have had.  I wish we could have coffee again.

Looking for comfort in my coffee cup