Dove Tale Writers

My Day Today

2009-04-18T22:14:00.002-04:00

I am making this page the colour of the sun. The colour of the sun that celebrated this glorious spring day. The colour of the sun that matched the big and little daffodils that were lured out by the warmth the sun brought to the day. And the wind was a soft wind, very quiet. A caressing wind. I didn't need to get up early this morning, I woke up with the light. And Simon and I went for a walk to and in Monarch Woods. Simon loves Monarch woods. He almost still acts like a puppy there, in and out the water, sniffing around, following trails. In the woods I found Chives and wild leek, and brought some home. Altogether we stayed out for almost three hours. We had a snack and Simon conked out with a sigh. I cleaned up the house, and by noon I said bye to Simon and Yona , and jumped on my bike. I stopped of at the UP store and did some colour copying. I stopped off at the dollar store, and bought a frame for the picture I had copied and enlarged. Then I set off on the Iron Horse Trail, up to Waterloo to visit my friend Lois who lives near Allan and Weber. We sat in her sun room and had tea and chocolates, delighting in her two Siamese cats, curled up together on a blanky on the couch. And in her wonderful plant corner with many deep red geraniums, listening to the birds outside singing their hearts out. On the way home I stopped at the city Bakery Cafe and bought some of their delicious bread. Back home I decided to be a good co-op girl and got out boards, a saw and nails and repaired the perimeter fence. The co-op cleaning day is coming up and I am not going to be there, so I started to do my bit. The fence looks acceptable again. I cleaned up the garbage around it. And then went in and conked out with Simon, after we had supper. My supper of course was fresh baked bread with different toppings. Mmm!! By almost eight o'clock pm. My friend Joanne came by and we took our dogs to the field for a bit, just to hang out. We went once around the track. That was it for Simon. When I tried to walk back partly with Joanne to her house, he sat and looked at me like I was a lunatic. So he brought me home.
And home we are. Cat. Dog and me. It's grooming time for Simon, always supervised by Yona, also receiving some strokes and playing with Simon's tail, or hiding under a rug, and then, oh then, we all go nighty, nighty, sharing the bed.

I bet anything that the sunny, yellow background won't transfer in the blog. So readers will have to imagine it.

Nigle just called to chat. He worked all day and into the night, and also tomorrow. At least he works outside, and at least he has work!. Talking with him topped up my day. I'm smiling!

Wild Thing

MY SCRAPBOOK

2009-04-06T19:14:00.003-04:00

Working on my entry of Nico van Schaffelaar in my scrap book, taking a closer look at the numbers of his birth- and death dates, I realized how young he died. He was only 46. And only 12 years older than me. Sjees, he could've still lived, would now be 85. I wonder what happened to him. I guess that's one of the things I have to put in the "I'll never know" compartment. Nico's page is finished in my scrapbook. It looks good. I like the memory. I am now building up to a section on chocolate, spent this day to do some research. Believe it or not, it took me to the liberation of Holland from the German regime, in 1945. What does chocolate have to do with that? I remember the incoming troops bringing us cigarettes and chocolate, throwing it to the cheering and celebrating crowds. I was ten and still remembered the taste. But many younger children had never had chocolate and didn't like the taste. spitting it out. Can you believe that Larry Keller ?

LIFE'S DISAPPOINTMENTS

2009-03-29T21:53:00.002-04:00

Lately I have often been thinking back to the Newspaper place I worked for In Amsterdam. Especially I wondered about a man in the lay-out and arts department who I worked with, and who often would tell me a story or give me advice about certain works of art. I was just sort of an office girl with artistic ambitions. His name was Nico van Schaffelaar.

Without hope I decided to use the new technology and Google his name as an artist and musician in Amsterdam. I was shocked to see his name come up in connection with the Newspaper we worked for and several union magazines that were printed in our building, he being mentioned as the graphic artist of many magazine covers, vacation flyers, and even music magazines, and post cards.

Now that newspaper building doesn't exist anymore. I knew that. Most of Nico's work mentioned is from the sixties. I managed to find a page with some of his art work and a small photo. Oh my God, I did recognize him. I felt excited. then I wondered if there wouldn't be a way to contact him. Then I looked at the little photo and read what it said underneath: "Nico van Schaffelaar, 1923-1969." Oh no, he died!!! I forgot that he was way in his thirties while I was still only 18. What a bummer! I'd need a medium to contact him. Create another ghost story for Marianne. Anyhow, I printed the pages with the tiny photo and the small images of his art work to keep. Maybe, I can enlarge them a bit and use them for another page in my memory scrap book.

FOLLOW UP

2009-03-29T21:39:00.005-04:00

The following is a piece of writing that I had for a while and intended to post here, because it links with the phone part of the previous post. I only thought of it now because I wanted to do another post. Please excuse me if I left spelling errors, I'm too tired to check right now.

THE DAY OF THE FULL MOON
Often that's a day dreaded. I've heard nurses and caretakers sigh about how full moon affects patients and even ordinary people. It seems to bring out weird behaviour.
I know as a fact that full moon affects myself, and people around me. When I was fighting with my partner who had M.S., he being testy and unreasonable, I in tears, it never failed when I went for a walk, and looked up, Full Moon was grinning at me.
Often my daughter used to phone me with what seemed like a total nervous breakdown, sobbing in my ear about irrational circumstances. At some point I would interrupt, “you know it is full moon, don't you?” She'd be quiet for a while, and then would start to laugh, knowing well the phenomena.
It seldom happens to me, but whenever I have a sleepless night, my body all tense and uncomfortable, my eyes wide open throughout the night, it always turns out to be full moon.
Now yesterday was full moon and something weird did happened to me. The day was laid out before me without commitments, without plans. I tried to get creative. No go. My imaginative artery was closed for the day. So I decided to be practical. Time to get my taxes done. I do not do that myself, I pay to have it done. That may seem silly since my tax return is a dead simple one. But I would cost myself more than the price of professional help, simply by making mistakes, not knowing all the loopholes. So, I crept out of my grubby stay at home clothes and made myself presentable. The Liberty Tax office is down town. I would need bus tickets. I only had one and figured I'd need another one for the return trip I also had to go to the bank to pay a bill and avoid a late charge.
My first stop was at the bank. I went in and couldn't believe my eyes. There were no customers waiting, only eagerly waiting tellers to help me. I was in and out in no time. That is weird.
My second stop was at the tobacco/lottery station at the same plaza to buy bus tickets. I walked in and my eyes were in for another surprise. No other customers in a place that always has long line ups. In no time the slip of tickets in my pocket, I was at the bus depot. Weird.
I hadn't checked the bus schedules and expected to probably just have missed the bus, and be in for a at least 15 minute wait. Ha, minutes from my arrival at the stop the bus drove up. I could go in, away from that nasty, icy, blowing wind, and settle in a cozy corner. Maybe not weird, but surely unusual.
From the downtown transportation center I walked the short distance to King Street and the tax place. Customers are taken in at a first come first attended to basis, you put your name on the list and are called up in order. I had truly expected, going by past experiences, to have at least an hour wait But believe it or not, I was called in within ten minutes. My taxes were electronically entered into cyber space. I got to choose between instant rebate or wait. I could wait and save the money for that extra service. It was done. I looked at the clock and discovered that my transfer for the bus hadn't even expired yet. I booted it to the stop, and the bus was waiting for me, instead of me having to wait for the bus. Weird was definitely taking on a different meaning.
Coming home I found a telephone bill in my mailbox. I opened it and checked if I had received my refund. At the beginning of the year I switched from rental phone to my own. Bell was informed about it the same day. On the next bill I was still charged for rental. I went through an endless phone messages system to get it corrected. Took me about an hour. But then I was told to pay the bill as is and
a refund would be on the next one. Well there was no refund on my full moon day bill but again an other rental charge. Grrr., but I kept my cool and dialed Bell.
Here comes weird again Instead of getting a machine, a real live voice answered. And the person that voice belonged to actually knew what she was doing. She listened, took notes, and said, “That's not right.” She had me wait a few minutes, came back on the phone, apologized for the inconvenience, had me cross out the amount to pay on the bill, and enter the amount less three month rental. All taken care of.
I still had to do a bit of shopping. I went to that huge Real Canadian Superstore across the street from me, and picked up my items. It was later in the evening and when I went to the self check outs, they were closed at that side, I'd have to walk all the way back to the other end again. I had forgotten to pick up a bottle of litchy drink, my favourite. I was thirsty. But also tired. I did not want to go back in. I chose the nearest cashier, and had her check me out. By the tiller sat a bottle of litchy drink. “Can I have that?” I asked. Sure enough I could have it, someone had not wanted it and left it behind. What are the chances?
If I had to do with full moon behaviour that day, it certainly was to my advantage. I saved money. Bell refund coming up. Big tax refund on its way. Saved myself a late charge. Saved a bus ticket. Saved time, and it is said that time is money. Didn't get ruffled, maintained my good mood throughout the day, and slept soundly all night, the full moon smiling at me through my bedroom window.

OUTDATED

2009-01-09T20:31:00.000-05:00

Am I a dinosaur?
I must seem in the eye of this world, an outdated creature. I just sort of live my life staying the same. Not in nature. I do evolve. It's when it comes to every day living. Sort of when I discovered after several years loony that there were no one dollar bills available anymore. Pity. One can fold a one dollar bill in a enveloped letter. A coin doesn't work that way. That was in the time that one dollar still meant something to a young child. Today even in a dollar store that amount ain't much use to anyone anymore. Our new 99 cent or more store, only one year in business, closed it doors after Christmas. In spite of the fact that most prices were raised to more, (much more) they went under. And of course 99 cent never was enough anyhow with tax added.
Just as alert as I was with the withdrawal of the paper dollar, I was with my phone. I still had my old Harmony phone, rented it from Ma Bell. Doing that had benefits, years ago. For example, I didn't have to bother about repairs. I could trade the old phone for a new one without cost. Anyhow, I was made aware at some point that repairs to the phone line were not covered anymore. Not like how one time lightening struck my connection and it was repaired and payed for. So I agreed to a monthly payment added to my bill to avoid high cost if ever something like that would happen again.
My old harmony phone hadn't been replaced for a long time. Apparently for many years. Where do years go anyhow? It worked more and more crappy. The pushbuttons wouldn't push in far enough unless whacked. Often not whacked enough, I got wrong connections with weird messages. So today I decided that I needed a new phone. So automatically I went through the old routines. Phoned Bell for replacement. It took me about an hour to work through phone machines, get wrong connections, or get a person (several times)who misunderstood.. I ended up in Nova Scotia. Everyone assumed, even though I started off with mentioning my land line, rented harmony phone, that I was talking about a cell phone. Sigh!
Finally I got a real woman on the line, who was patient and understanding and explained to me that I had the choice of asking for another rental phone, or much better buy my own, and stop paying rent with no benefits. And wow yeah, of course! How come it never before occurred to me to do that? How could I still live under the illusion that renting a phone was more beneficial, cost wise? Even when I already payed monthly into an emergency fund. I wasted a lot of money, poor dinosaur me.
I have a brand new phone now, a simple, black beauty. Just a phone. No extra features. Just right for a slow, backward sort of person like me. My basic phone bill will be less each month.

Wild Thing

Indian Giver?

2009-01-09T12:01:00.003-05:00

There is this man, who eight years ago gave one of his kidneys to his wife to help her live. I don't know what all went on in and around it and between, but the thing is the marriage went on the rocks and the man now sues his wife. He wants either a phenomenal amount of money or...his kidney back.

I burst out laughing when I heard that news item. The 'hot item' came up on the View just a while ago with Whoopie almost in hysterics laughing. The serious part, I guess, is when giving a kidney back is approved in court, where will that lead for certain transplants. Can you ask back for bone marrow? Can you ask back for sperm if the resulting baby is not brought up in the religion of your choice? Ha, ha, the suggestions went wild. Wacky and wild. Man, I haven't laughed like this in a long time...Crazy world.

Another post? Ah, why not?

2008-12-29T12:03:00.002-05:00

Tell Me a Story

The sun shines today. It is December the twenty ninth. Between Christmas and the new year. That brings next year very close. Three days from now next year will be far away. Time measurements have sort of a wackiness about them.

The sun shines today. The day before yesterday it rained. It rained on mountains of snow. For days and days people have been digging out. Snowplows too struggled with the loads. The rain did a faster, more efficient job, Turned roads and walks into rivers. Shrunk the mountains to ground level.

The sun shines today. Most places one can walk now without fear of slipping on ice. Most sidewalks are bare. They dried enough before the weather changed to light freezing.
The sun shines today and it feels like spring. You almost expect little sprouts to appear in the soil. Flower beginnings. But you know better. It is still December. A long way off to April.
The sun shines today, but yesterday, while still raining, the wind blew with a vengeance. The outside was a dance floor for empty garbage cans, and hard to identify litter. The wind arranged its own band, clinging and clattering anything loose around. Even things not so lose were torn away and sent in the air, or crashed to the ground. The wind was having a ball, singing and whistling in tune with the sounds of destruction.

But the sun shines today. The temperature is mild. Here at home my windows and doors are open, letting in lots of fresh air.

How many stories are hidden in the above, trillions? One could follow the path of someone who slipped on ice and broke a limb. One can enter the emergency with this person. Could be an adult. Could be a child. There are nurses, there are doctors, there is a waiting room full of patients with all their own stories, making new ones.

Someone else could have been caught in the flood waters. Didn't make it. Stopped breathing. Devastated family and friends. Ambulance attendants. News reporters. Onlookers. One of them goes home and tells the story. A listener knew the person that drowned. The story calls up unbearable memories causing a nervous breakdown. Councilors or a psychiatrist enter the scene.

Someone, an elderly someone, could live alone, not having anyone to share Christmas with. Sits by the window in a rocker. Watches the strange weather. Thinks back to Christmas' past, live stories in the inner mind. Picks up a pen and writes, recreating memories.

A little girl is out in the yard. The sun shines today. She opens a gate and enters a summer garden, leaving white winter behind. A bunny, walking up straight, meets her, takes her by the hand, and they follow a path surrounded by flowers and butterflies, up to where? Maybe a fairy castle and a prince.

A cat jumps in through an open window. Meets the family dog. Dog barks. Cat runs. Dog runs after it. Wild chase. Cat jumps on the piano. Runs some scales. Throws over some statues, a plant crashes to the floor. Dog barks, cat squeals, footsteps sounding, upset homeowners enter the scene. Who are they, where do they come from, do they support World Wildlife, do they like animals unconditionally, do they hate cats, is it their dog, are they just dog sitting?

The sun shines today. I looked at my empty screen and wrote six paragraphs about time and weather. I imagined about all the hidden stories in those six simple paragraphs. So many to chose from. Endless, endless stories. On this sunshiny day I agree with author Michael Ende who sees life as a Never Ending Story, even though there is an ende to his name.

wild thing

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

2008-10-17T19:50:00.002-04:00

It seemed a good idea. Cars powered by electricity. I kept on wishing the idea was pushed more. No dangerous emissions spewing in the air. Less oil needed. Hopefully less disastrous oil spills. Saving lake, river, and sea creatures. Altogether better for the environment.
That's what I thought. Until I saw a commercial pointing out how much more electricity we will need when our transportation is powered by electricity. How we're definitely going to need more and bigger nuclear plants providing clean power, and how the government is proud to work on the extension of the nuclear power plants, to provide us with clean, safe electricity. Sounds like a golden promise. Until you do a double take, “nuclear power?” Clean? Safe? What about Chernoble, and other accidents? What about all the nuclear wastes being buried in secret far off places, like the Arctic? What about all that cancer causing stuff escaping into the air we breath. Settling on the food we eat. What about it?

Wild Thing

MY UMBRELLY-WELLY-S and ME.

2008-09-12T09:45:00.004-04:00

I used to camp out in my backyard. This year one never knows whether it will rain or not. So I camp out in my living room. Close to the wide open patio doors, so I can quickly close them when the sky breaks open. I still get the fresh air, I still hear the wind in the trees, I still hear my fountains sing their watery songs in harmony, to accompany my dreams.

Towards morning, still pitch dark, I half awoke, and heard water clatter. Oh no, I thought, my fountains have gone out of control. Space creatures have come to take over!!! I scrambled from my cozy sleeping nest, stood and tried to comprehend what was happening. Oh. Without a warning the big guy in the sky had sent what seemed like a 40 day flood. Well, no time to build an ark, but definitely time to walk the dog. My alarm clock going off, told me so. I sleepily dressed in my "sloppy-it-doesnt-matter clothes", stuck my feet in my wellies, grabbed my big, big umbrella, and out in the downpour I went with treats and poopy bags in my pockets, following that dog. So easy to be a dog. A coat that always keeps you at the right temperature, except maybe in an all over disabeling heat wave that retards all living creatures, unless they steal the benfits of that "ruining the environment" invention the air conditioner.

I always enjoy walking under my umbrelly, making a circumference of dry around me, splashing my wellied feet through big puddles, listening to the symphony of raindrops above me and all around. The rain seems to bring out more smells for Simon, and he, without umbrelly, without wellies, wags his tale enthusiasically and takes his time reading doge-mails. What a pair in the dark early hour on deserted streets, just an odd car splashing by.

Wild Thing

Big Brother Watching Me?

2008-09-10T21:37:00.002-04:00

I have a niece who lives in Wales. Recently she got married. She e-mailed me with her newly married name, twice. To send wedding pictures and so.

Didn't I fish a letter out of my mailbox, this morning, addressed to my niece, her name and newly wedded name, but my home address, by a Toronto Company with grocery saving coupons. Stuff I need like a hole in the head.

The only way I can think of they could do that is by reading e-mails.

Like I once took out a store's credit card, just to take advantage of a big discount on what I bought. Then I cancelled the card. But after I got lots of junk mail, and I knew it was because I fell for that credit discount, 'cause they had spelled my name wrong, and all the junk mail came to my misspelled name.

Feels weird to get mail for my niece in Wales on my address.

Wild Thing

Poor Poor Blog

2008-08-09T11:41:00.002-04:00

't's abandoned. It's very sad. Dovetalers don't love it anymore. Is blogging out of style? Ah, it lived a short life. Oh blogger, blogger, it fell by the wayside. It stares out into never-never land. Sometimes it meets the sad eyes of Mental blog. Mental blog is still sort of kept alive by HWSNBN. But it too is suffering from lack of response. The thought exchange machine is dying. Taken over by the incredible fast evolution of the cell phone. The cell phone which can do everything, just from the pocket, wherever you are, phone, pay your bills, text, make photos, exchange pictures, words... Just walk along with that little thingy in your hand held to your ear, and be in contact with all of your world. Very convenient. Is it cheaper? Not likely. Is it more sociable? I doubt it. It probably saves time. That vehicle time we keep on running out of more and more. How does that happen? Time savers make us busier? Oh blogger, blogger, in memoriam the blog. May it rest peacefully in cyberspace.

obsolete wild thing

NO KIDDING

2008-06-30T13:23:00.002-04:00

Wild Thing heard the most brilliant weatherforecast, this morning, on the radio,

"When the clouds roll away, we'll have sun."

2008-06-14T15:05:00.002-04:00

THE DANGER OF POETRY AND OLD MEMORIES
Early Saturday morning. The main tune of the day is rain. All the fans I own are whirling away in strategic places around the place I dwell in and call home. It is warm. It is clammy. Not unpleasant. The air feels rather soft, touching my skimpily clad body with soft gossamer fingers. It makes me feel sensual and dreamy.
After a rain walk with Super Dog, the day stretched ahead of me like a blank page. During the past days I've been drastically cleaning house. I hate cleaning, but even more I hate it when everything starts looking cluttered and dowdy and seems to be covered with a film of dirt. Action required!!! Three boxes of kitchen dishes went rattling in my little red wagon to the Salvation Army thrift store, enough to feed food and drink to an army. I don't even have a particular talent to be a pack rat. How do I end up being one anyhow? You'd figure that my kitchen cupboard are empty now. Wrong! The plus is that I can oversee what I have now.
The point I am making is that after the rain walk I came home to order and space. Dog and me had breakfast. Cat likely was hunting his own, in spite of his personal dish being filled with his top choice kibbles. And then I sat down in my rocking chair with a cup of tea, and thought of a poem. It doesn't matter which one. I envisioned the booklet it was in. I went downstairs to look for it. I'm not even sure I found it. I don't even remember what I was looking for. But my eye fell on a book called “Pocket Man.” Don Bell wrote it. A wild story about a most eccentric man called Roy McDonald. The man who wrote, “Living a London Journal.” Where was that book? And what happened to that funny other little booklet with his hilarious poem “The Answer Questioned?”
So I started rummaging around. Upstairs and downstairs. Soon upstairs I sat surrounded by books, booklets, newsletters, reliving the time of the late seventies and early eighties, a time of friendships, poetry and partying. Each item I held in my hands presenting me with a precious memory.

I Opened “Pocketman” and saw my neat ex libris I used those days to personalize my books.. A little, old wizened dwarf with a walking stick, in a woodsy nature setting, a friend I used to work wit gave me because she thought that typified me. And on the blank leaf beside it Roy, who gave me the book, wrote: “I liked your book of poetry very much. Your poetry is sensitive and honest as you are. I wish you all the best, always. In friendship, Roy. “( I had given him one of my handmade booklets.)

And in “The Answer Questioned he wrote, “This book was published last night. You have One of the first 25 copies. I treasure the copy of your short story, “Hey Diddle Diddle”.
Oh yeah, that was a story I wrote when he and I were in the same creative writing class. Maybe I should find that story and read it again. It was very Jungian. My mind was very occupied with alternative thinking and finding meaning in dreams then.

From among the books on the floor I had pulled out, at random I picked up a volume of Jan Figurski, The Stevensdaughter Poems. I always liked Jan Figurski, I liked his poems from hearing them being read by him, at poetry readings in The London Main Library meetings. Once he accompanied me with guitar, when I was reading my poems at the park. Looking at the book, I realized that I haven't even really read it. It will have to go to the bathroom. (A lot of my reading, I must admit, I do in the bathroom. One of Jan's poems I liked so much, I copied it into my “A Hobbit Travels Book, may the stars shine upon your face”a journal I used for sort of a record of poems I wrote myself, and some of others I particularly liked. Jan and his wife were expecting a baby, and he wrote:

A Sense of Wonder
One early morning me and you
and one as yet unnamed
will hear the sound of drying dew.
Our ears will tingle, softly mingled
with others still untamed.
A sound is but vibration,
As if that was enough!
But how we feel a finer sensation
is made of slipp'rier stuff.

Other poems he wrote are better crafted. I like this one because he tries to catch an emotion that really lies beyond his physical grasp.

My own introductory poem in the Hobbit book reads,

There are spaces
in time where we can live
in leisure and leave
all logic behind.

Where snatched from
our world by whimsical
faeries, it's only
sweet magic
we
find.

And I filled that book with hand written dreams and poems and longings and magic all signifying my state of mind at the time. Sometimes I didn't know if I was awake or dreaming.. I had day visions and night visions. I was in love. Experienced things that weren't One poem in the same book reads,

Air?

You found me unaware
and trailed a passionate kiss
along my lips, so swift,
I gasped at empty air.

Was that your dream or
was it mine or just a trick of time?
One thing I know for sure,
There was no body there.

The man I was in love with,without knowing about my poem, wrote.

When I dreamed you were here
you were.
As a dove my heart took flight
to decent upon your shoulder

Only to find a cloud
drifting away
in the morning mist
never to come again.

Was that about me? I don't think so. I was just struck by the similarity of dream feelings.

While dwelling in that time capsule of the past, I remembered one of the poem posters still hanging on the wall downstairs. I went to look at it. Frank Raymond, an experimental poet, great performer. He signed the poster: “For pretty netty.” Ah, I was still pretty then, although I never really believed it myself. Pity!

And then I though of Bill Bissett, experimental poet, and musician. He performed his poetry with rhythm instruments and song. He played with word spellings like Larry does. (Whoever reads this and doesn't know Larry, forget I said that. This is no place to explain Larry.) He also formed his poems into shapes on the page. (It's too much writing to give an example of such a shape. One looks like a sailboat.) A tiny fragment of his spelling, I can do.

u
say
yes now
th rain in th
treez the rain in
yr eye nd
evry way yu dew it

Bill moved to Vancouver. I wrote him a letter, just to keep in touch. He wrote me back. We corresponded for quite a while. He sent me his publication “Medicine My Mouth On Fire.” On the title page, in simple lines, he drew gulls in flight and waves, around, 'for netty, love bill.'

Some lines extracted from his letters are,”reallee nice to heer from you-that was a luvlee nite.” “Yes, sumtimes dreem images occur in th writing.” “Thrain seems to have stoppd heer, allthbe ok, love bill.

I have a newly pile of reading to stack on my reading bench in the bathroom. Oh boy. Will I really get to read it? Once withdrawn from my time capsule, the one I am still in right now, will life in “Outer Space” reclaim me and keep me busy with nowadays living again?

I started this journey into the past, early this morning. Right now it is almost 3 pm. It's good that I didn't have any “must does.” Forgetting time like this really can be dangerous.
Since the Dovetale blog is in hibernation, and I had on mind to try to revive it once more, (much chance!) I will publish this for dovetalers to read, and very likely also bring it to editing circle. Some people may get to read it twice that way. But I suppose that won't hurt.

HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO ALL FATHERS.

WILD THING

P.S. I don't feel like reading this over again, excusez moi for left typos.

2008-05-07T16:35:00.002-04:00

MAY SHOWERS BRING... May flowers!!!

I planted butterflies, (the magic ones that light up in different colours from solar energy) and pansies, and geraniums. First there was a lot of tidying up to do, and weeding away what was not wanted. Now that it starts looking like something, spring is singing in my heart.

Wild Thing

2008-04-21T08:18:00.002-04:00

THOSE IN-BETWEEN-ITEMS NEVER SEEM TO MAKE IT OUT OF THE CLOSET. I like spring. I like that slow transition from cold to pleasantly warm. You still may need a sweater or jacket. Your body fills with new energy. And no insects yet. You feel light, unencumbered...

We don't do that this year, do we? From winter boots to flip flops. From winter coat to T-shirts. Oh, I like. I like it better than snow. But I look at clothing items in my closet. Some I would like to wear. But already too warm for them. Maybe next year? Mmmm, maybe not. I have lots of things to wear for in-between. They really never seem to make it out of the closet. Of course they don't wear out either. Maybe that's a bonus.

Was in the thrift shop in New Hamburg, Saturday. Wow, they have such good stuff, such good prices, and such a neat, friendly atmosphere. One could hang out there for hours. I think we did. Bought books of poetry, of old stories, looked at, and bought some of those great looking plants, donated by the community, planted by the thrift shop personal, lovingly, in recycled pots, artistically. Plants always fresh and cared for, to tantalize your green addiction.

And bought clothes. A change in summery things. I wear them today, proudly. Loose, light cotton pants. A great top that reminds you of a beautiful blue sky. Funny I do have quite a selection of shorts. But somehow I do not want them yet. From jeans to shorts doesn't work for me. I need transition. Don't feel like exposing white legs yet.

You may wonder what happened to all those in-between-fashion-items I was talking about that don't wear out. Well, somehow, especially pants, I always have a hard time finding anymore. I want simple. I want light. I want not to feel aware of what I am wearing. And that is hard to come by, unless, I guess you want to pay out-of-this-world prices. I don't. And the old cottonees have become beyond repairing.

This word program is so unpoetic. Doesn't recognize the word 'cottonees', doesn't like the word unpoetic... sigh! Hard to be original in the electronic world of conformity. But a great opportunity to be rebellious.

Well, time to get going. Have breakfast. Listen to bird songs coming in through wide open windows. Let the dog take me for a walk. Maybe have a sprint on my bike. It's waiting for me, aroused from hibernation.

Happy summer, all you blogger writers out there. Don't forget to smell the daffodils.

Wild Thing

Oh, I forgot, have a series of musquito bites on arms and legs. They are out allready!

ITCHY MATTER

2008-04-09T12:53:00.001-04:00

Friend or Enemy?
A spider bit me on my butt while I was sitting on the throne. Suddenly I feel this lump rising, itchy like crazy. Now I am tolerant of spiders. Say 'hi' to them when they crawl by. Let them be. But when I rose from the toilet and saw this green culprit, I had murderous intentions. One swipe would have landed him (her? Naw I like to think it was male interest) in the toilet bowl swirled away with all that liquid. Would serve him right. But, although I am not Buddhist, I still think a life is a life. I couldn't bite him back on his butt, to teach him a lesson. But I didn't see him as a welcome guest in my house anymore either. I would never put a bug out in winter to freeze to death. Winter would have been a bigger dilemma. But hey, the snow bells and the crocuses are celebrating spring. Yesterday I enjoyed lunch and supper outdoors with friends at my picnic table. Under the umbrella for a bit of protection from that glorious sun. (This umbrella defuses light rather than blocking out the sun.) I brought a few plants out from inside, and a small pot with children-of-the-sun daffodils. I entertained some friends with lunch and with supper. What a day it was! But back to the spider. I picked him up, gave him a scolding, brought him outside, and told him to stay out and not come back with a whole spider family. Well, doesn't quite go with spiders that way, does it. Maybe there is a nest full of eggs somewhere in my house. I think I better check the toilet before I sit down, next time.

Wild Thing

A STORY OF SPRING

2008-04-04T13:03:00.003-04:00

From under the piles of snow, even before it was all melted away, appeared those sweet, brave snow bells, in full bloom. Amazingly white, whiter than snow, reaching up to the sky. A patch of little beauties, in a mantle of healthy green, slender leaves. Around them still messy garden residue from last year, brownish, but with signs of green sprouts coming up, promising that crocuses, daffodown dillies, and tulips are not that far behind.
I had been afraid that that particular spring pleasure had been taken away from me. Late last spring, without my consent, while I was away, my flowerbeds had been dug up and over planted with things busy body neighbours thought would be more aesthetic to look at. But, o joy, the bulbs survived. Wild Thing happy now. In the wake of of robins and red winged blackbirds, my snow bells appeared again. I apologized to them for not having greater trust in their survival skills. They outsmarted human intervention.

Tid Bits

2008-03-27T21:15:00.004-04:00

Man, I have been off line for weeks. Nothing changed in the blogger area. Dovetalers and Mental Blog supporters are not exactly suffering from blogger mania, are they?

Tell you about my cat Yona. I discovered him to be my protector watch cat. He sat on the kitchen window sill, looking out. Being not quite there, I heard this deep, and threatening growl. I looked up. It came from Yona. I look out, a stanger was coming up the driveway. Wow, my cat was alerting me to danger!. It was only a postman, but not our regular one. Yeah Yona!!!

Simon who was outside, knocked on the door to come in. I let him in. Thought he'd stay. But he ran into the living room, picked up his rawhide bone, and wished to be let out again, to lay on the snow and chew.

My friend told me about a family in her church. the grandmother had died. They told the children that she had gone to heaven. Later they visited the funeral home, and viewed the body in the coffin. The youngest child, piped up, "Mommy, are we in heaven?"

Star Dust

2008-03-16T11:32:00.003-04:00

Our body is a composition of atoms that were once cooked in the Big Bang and the furnace of our sun. We are literally star dust.

Our sun threw out materials of superheated gases that revolved around our star. Eventually these gases cooled to form a mass. After billions of years rain filled some crevice in a rock. The stagnant pool of chemical soup was then supercharged by lightening. From that rare combination of a spark of charged chemicals life began.

Just the right combination of chemicals held that charge allowing it to begin the first steps in writing the history of life in DNA code. A code that has evolved into three billion characters carrying with the message of a universal will to be.

bobby bacon

Am I Certain?

2008-03-10T13:16:00.001-04:00

Every measurement or observation carries with it uncertainty. If we require unequivocal certainty to make a decision about anything, we simply wouldn’t make any decisions.

Am I certain about that? Smiles, of course not.

Uncertainty is okay though. We can be certain about uncertainty.

In the late twenties and thirties much of the development in physics was lead and influenced by German institutions. It was an uncertain period of time where colleagues are friends one day and then sworn enemy the next day.

"The more precisely the POSITION is determined, the less precisely the MOMENTUM is known" WERNER HEISENBERG (1901 - 1976).

And no one will ever be certain of Heisenberg’s motives or intentions during the war. Perhaps his motivation was merely to survive.

In more recent times Colin Powell, I believe had good intentions. Mr Powell was unique in the sense that there was a high degree of confidence worldwide in his character as a man who spoke the truth compared to any other member of the Bush administration. He was given evidence of Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction. Likely a trusting man that couldn’t imagine that evidence was being manufactured for him to present to the UN. He was certain he was presenting credible information.

Perhaps the next US administration could be kinder if they are less certain and self-righteous. A scientist, a theologian, a politician or a reporter would have a greater degree of credibility if they expressed more doubts.

We don’t require certainty to make a decision. In that regards we would look at potential outcomes of decisions in terms of prediction and probabilities. Our concerns about the probabilities should contemplate whether an action would cause more harm than good.

Any planned action that may cause harm to people or to the planet lacks credibility.

MEMORIES OF MOMMY

2008-02-29T15:22:00.001-05:00

There are sometimes these days. Today is such a day for me. I want my “MOMMY!”

She's in the kitchen. She seems to spend a lot of time there. I shuffle up and lean into her, while she's stirring something in a pot on the stove. She looks down. A smile on her face. She lifts my chin , strokes my hair, and asks, “What's the matter, don't you feel so good?” I shake my head. She feels my forehead. Wipes a tear from my cheek. “You must be tired. Maybe something is coming on. Come.”
She draws up a reclining chair from the other room, puts in a blanky, and settles me down. I lean comfortably into the cushions while Mommy starts to boil some water and fuzzes about. While she is cooking up things, she tells me little stories, and sings me songs. Songs are stories too.

She sings about the little cradle softly rocking in a tree. It has flower curtains. Two tiny birds built it together with love and expectations. And look how intricate and delicate. In it are two little eggs. Two baby birds are born. Mommy Jay sings a song in purest ecstacy, a song so very, very sweet . And the tiny cradle gently sways like a ship on the rolling sea.

She sings about a green valley full of little flowers gently swaying in the wind, to the sound of a murmuring waterfall. The water softly sprays every little flower, even the very smallest one.

She sings about a poor, little robin red breast in the snow coming from a forest, so hungry, knocking on a window of a house, and a little girl opens and feeds the little one sugar and bread crumbs It then flies back to the forest, but comes back every day.

Mommy comes to my chair and sits down on the arm. She puts a tray in my lap with a soft boiled egg in an egg cup, the one that is decorated with a yellow chicky, and a bowl with hot cream of wheat porridge with lots of sugar. Mmmmmmmm!!!

While this winter is dragging its feet, sending more frost, more snow, making walking into tricky exercises, me feeling tired, sluggish, stick in the muddish, wishing for sunny days when I can run out in shorts and a t-shirt, bare feet in flip-flops, hop on my bike...

This particular stubborn winter day, waiting for spring... not knowing what to wear, tired of all those winter outfits, not knowing what to eat, tired of winter dishes...tired anyway...

Is it a wonder that I want my “MOMMY?”

I send my writers friends this lamentation. I cannot read or answer comments. See previous posts for reason.

FRIDAY MORNING

2008-02-29T08:21:00.002-05:00

Wild thing is puzzled. What she posts, seemingly gets published, according to the blog message. But it does not get in the comment column. Wild thing cannot find Larry's posting, copied and pasted from his e-mail on spirits. This is going to be another attempt. There she goes into cyber space witout guarantee it will land where it is supposed to go.

This is a leap year. today is February the 29th. Simon is butting my elbow. Thinks it is time to go for a walk. Brrrrr. I am holding off a bit. Yona is romping around in the snow. He goes out through the windows slightly left ajar. Brave cat. I closed the register so not too much heat will escape. It's freezing in my computer room.

Well, see if this will go out to my blogger friends. I be so pleased when it works.

How to Make a Link

2008-02-28T19:03:00.010-05:00

Larry will now demonstrate how to make a link, for example in the comments section. Of course, when we are posting on the blog, it is very simple. You just click on the "Insert Link" icon, and it
does it for you once you have pasted in the URL.

But what if there is no "Insert Link" icon? How do you make that go?

Like this. You must make an HTML code. The words and symbols for the code are so:
Insert Name of Site

Now, what Larry has just done here is demonstrate that you can't use the code (properly) in a demonstration, because the code will try to turn it into a hyperlink.

Larry must break up the code into bits to tell you. He must also use a different symbol at beginning and end so that it doesn't turn into real code. So Larry will replace these symbols: < > with [ ] OK?

ie: [ is the same as < and ] is the same as >

So, the first part of the code is this:
[a href=

Next, insert the URL between quotation marks, followed by ] :
"http://www.mariannepaul.com/"]

After that, you type in the name of the website, or the text that you want as the link:
Here I Am

And you end the link with:
[/a] (The slash always indicates "end")

So now Larry will show you the whole link, with brackets instead of <> :
[a href="http://www.mariannepaul.com/"]Here I Am[/a]

As soon as you put in the correct symbols you get the link:
Here I Am

Larry remembers that M@ showed us how to do this a long time ago. There are simple codes for bold, italics and underline.

Using the bracket version:

bold is [b]type what you want[/b] :
type what you want

italics is [i]type what you want[/i] :
type what you want

underline is [u]type what you want[/u] :
type what you want

Oh, one further hint. If, for example you make a post and put a link into it using the "Insert link" icon, you can then click on the Edit Html button and it will show you the code that makes that link. The a href stuff and everything.

And another piece of trivia. If you right-click on a website, the context menu will have a line that says View Source, or View Page Source. If you click on that you will get to see all the code that makes up that web page. Just what you wanted to know, eh?

That's all the code Larry knows. Go away now.

And practice.

Blogging ruins chili dinner

2008-02-28T14:06:00.004-05:00

There I was, blogging wildly in my head, creating all those witty things I would post in my latest rant - all about why people who go outside their house to work think those who stay in their house to work have much MUCH more time on their hands... that somehow they don't really work... oh, I was rockin' & rollin'... sling-shooting and ping-ponging thoughts... all the while multi-tasking... defrosting hamburger in the micro-wave... nuking away.... Why do people think POETS AND NOVELISTS have all that available time????? And don't people value creative writing as ACTUAL work... rather than hobby???? Smush up defrosted hamburger in bottom of the slow cooker.... find that envelope of chili spice mix amongst all those dirty dishes on my messy counter... Let Farleydog out into the yard to pee.... sprinkle chili mix on smushed meat... open can of diced tomatoes and pour over mix... Why do people think they're gonna write some day in the FUTURE as opposed to RIGHT NOW????? Maybe because it's such hard WORK in the present.... LOLOLOLOL! Plug in slow cooker... fiddle with settings....push low for 8 hours.... clean up counter.... hand wash dishes... find chili mix still in its envelope in a shopping bag???? WHAT DID I PUT IN THE SLOW COOKER????? AND CAN I EAT IT????

~Xena

new post

2008-02-28T10:27:00.002-05:00

This is just wild thing trying out if she can post. She did not receive Larry's post. It's not there. She wondered if her freaky computer is acting up, which it does in many annoying ways. For one, trying to get to the blogs she has to struggle through a jungle of 'insecure' messages, warning after warning about, among others, that her security certificate is either expired, or not installed. Checking that out, she sees that the security certificate is good 'till May 28, 08. ????????????

Anyway, here she goes, see if this will post.