Five Years a Writer

As my big fat long teacher-holidays move into their final few weeks -- moving from the Saturday feeling of July to the Sunday feeling of August, I’ve been contemplating vacations generally and mine in particular. My mind has turned to the various types of vacations a person can have. Today, I’m contemplating noisy city time vs natural lake time.   I fantasize about holidaying in New York City and Chicago, visiting theatres and galleries and museums, eating out, strolling down streets packed with people and vibrating with energy. But I always end up at the cottage for my vacations.   The  big city would be about going places, seeing things and experiencing the noisy metropolitan hubbub, while the cottage is about being in wide open spaces, thinking, contemplating and creating.  As soon as we pull into the driveway and see Lake Winnipeg ahead of us, I can feel my shoulders relax, my mind settle and my energy expand. After the immediate bustle of unloading...

When I was in journalism school in Halifax, Nova Scotia in 1987, one of my placements was with the local CBC television station. My claim to fame from that time is that I rubbed shoulders with Ian Hanomansing and Susan Ormiston, both of whom were covering provincial news at the time. My claim to infamy from the same time is the day I failed to deliver what a reporter needed.  I had been sent out to get a clip from a person who had been involved in an accident; said person was a distance out of town so the camera man (that tells you how long ago it was; 1987 to be precise) drove. Once we arrived, we learned that the person we needed wasn’t immediately available, so we waited. And we waited. I think I must have been responsible for calling the shots, as I was the journalist (albeit only an intern), so we continued to wait. No cell phones back then, of course.   Eventually, the young man arrived home; it was cold and dark by then, but I gamely asked the necessary questi...

Work stops. Time expands.   Days fill with chores and planning. Tasks end. Holidays! Water laps the shore.  Boats roar past. Breezes blow cool. Hours become days’ fun.  Sleep. Eat. Read. Repeat.  Everyday holiday. Good.  Every day. The best.  Two-legged or four  Find rhythm in the doing. Nothing can be all.  Sun bright. Sky blue. Heat.   Berries ripened red get picked. Days long. Nights cool. Bliss.  Clouds build to thunder. Rains cannot quench deep ground’s thirst. Flies buzz in the heat.  Time slows and thoughts grow: What if? Let’s! Why not? Do it!  All is possible. Creative Arts Camp Painting. Writing. Collaging.  Crafts for adults. Fun!  One of my collages: Paths and pathways Val's painting, based on photos from her travels through the desert many years ago Anne writing (with Holly showing excellent support...)

My mother has never been a baker. She did go through a phase of making cherry biscuits, from a recipe of her sister’s, I believe, and she always made us birthday cakes, but routine baking for dessert was not her thing.   Which is why, one day in the early 70s, my older sister and younger brother and I found ourselves sharing one Mars bar — one, between the three of us — for dessert. It was terribly important that it be divided equally so, of course, the eldest took it upon herself to perform the task. With almost mathematical precision (could she possibly have used a ruler?), Katy cut the bar into three pieces. One for each of us. Competition among us was healthy, so the game became who could make that small piece of heavenly sweetness last the longest?  Not me, it turns out. I scarfed mine down in a couple of happy bites. It was Katy who made it last well into the afternoon by cutting off impossibly thin slices and letting them melt on her tongue. I don't recall how ...

On a recent international trip, I misunderstood my cell phone’s data plan and ended up exceeding my limit. The result? I was marooned on wifi, my internet reach limited to the distance the nearest network gave me. My initial response was dismay and, I’ll admit, a bit of angst. I’ve had a cell phone for only six years, but it took less than one weekend, back in August 2013, for me to be hooked on what was, for me, an extraordinary new toy tool that put the world of information and inter-connection into my hand. I don’t understand how it works, but I surely understand the benefits those invisible points of cellular connection grant me.  Sure, sometimes I dislike being so easily ‘getable’ — by those who have my number and by those that have my meta data. But, mostly, I love being able to access information that I want (and sometimes genuinely even need) whenever and wherever I am, and I really love being able to take a photo and share it via social media or email it to my f...

School's out for the summer. Yay!   Holidays have begun and that means time...glorious time to enjoy having time to do what I want when I want. Yay! This may include putting up posts on this blog, when I can figure out 'hotspots' with my phone at the cottage. Stay tuned, dear Reader. Stay tuned.  Sources : Woman + typewriter: unknown author. Coffee cup image  by  Danielle MacInnes  on  Unsplash  

A while back, I wrote about being at the point of no return with a project at the cottage. This weekend we got to where we were going with that work and, let me tell you, arriving at the planned destination is pretty sweet.  We arrived there after a lot of sweat and toil (mostly very enjoyable), at least one detour (what a waste of time) and not a few swear words (par for the course), but we arrived.  The painting went smoothly -- one coat of primer, two of the pretty pale green Val had chosen. In fact, it was such a simple job that I ended up doing the final coat. That is unheard of in our partnership, as I am not the perfect painter that Val is and I don't really enjoy the work. But, last weekend, time was moving along and the grass needed cutting, too, and so we divided and conquered. The lesson? Suck it up and just do it. Listen to the radio while rolling on the paint, and it might even be pleasant.  Next up was the installation of the carpet. It had been ...