You might remember how I wrote before Father’s Day about my uncommunicative father. How my emails were always responded to by my step-mother. Sometimes I’ve even wondered if Dad read them at all. For a very long time, this fact was a very raw nerve with me. One that allowed me to be angry with my step-mother.

Recently… let’s be honest, very recently I attempted to let go of my defensive reaction and respond to those emails. About a month ago my step-mother and I began a back and forth conversation about the two of them coming to Ontario to see us, going back to work and whether my dad would ever actually use his Facebook profile.

Our notes to each other were full of little nothings, details of life. There is a great deal in my life right now that I didn’t feel comfortable including. It never occurred to me that there was a great deal going on in her life that she didn’t feel like she could mention.

But then Dad called yesterday, very choked up. Her cancer had come out of remission shortly after they were married, but it was something that I thought the doctor’s had in check. Seems like the things unsaid were a lot bigger than I ever could have imagined. Because yesterday she was dying, and today she is gone.

I feel broken to pieces. It isn’t that we were the best of friends. It isn’t that she felt like a second mother. It’s the deeper meaning of why did I not share my life with her. And why she didn’t share her life with me.

Share this post!

I love Goodreads! Imagine Facebook, but all about books. You sent up a profile on their site and then get busy.

Keep your own little library of what you have read, are reading and want to read. Connect with your friends, make new ones in the many groups, or continuously annoy the ones you have by sending them repeated invites to your latest distraction. I swear those last twenty invites were not me.

When you are done socializing, you can also write book reviews, talk to authors, begin that collection of quotes you know you’ve always wanted to and find ideas for what to read next.

I LOVE Goodreads. Did I mention that already?

Years ago, I went looking for a place like this online and found an early edition start-up and competitior still in business called Shelfari. They, however excited I was initially, turned me off very quickly by spamming my inbox with message after useless message. And no where on their site was there a button that let you delete your account. It took me months to get the account and the spam gone.

Like a scrapbook of your reading habits that can be as much – or as little – as you are willing to put into it, I was so happy to find Goodreads. So happy that I added as many books as I could think of right away, organized them into shelves by genres and became a weekly patron of the local library. I’m not really sure which is egging me on more – reading more or reading more so I can play more with Goodreads.

But in the great mass that are online time-wasters , Goodreads is VERY high in my books – pun intended – because it lets me indulge the inner librarian and historian that my inner child longs to be. Without the spam. Check out my profile and see if it’s for you too. Don’t forget to send me a friend invite! Time to get back to the galaxy’s third worst poetry ever.

Share this post!

He’s still dancing. And he’s given me a terrible itch.

Share this post!

Today’s adventure started with a rushed cup of coffee. Within the hour I had finished making french toast for everyone else – because I hate the stuff – jumped in the car wishing yet again that I had Google-mapped the fastest route to my destination and landed on the doorstep of a stranger that I connected with on Freecycle. And she had flowers. For me!

I have really enjoyed the Freecycle community since joining up with our local group. For those of you who might not have heard about Freecycle, I’ll let them tell you about it:

Think of it as a perpetual garage sale with notices coming straight into your inbox. You join a group for your city and then let the sharing begin! I like getting to meet new people and driving through new neighborhoods in town and definitely the sense of community that both fosters.

The nice lady I met today had a garden overflowing with perennial flowers that she felt needed cutting back, so she offered them on Freecycle to anyone with a shovel and pots to take them home. She said that the response was overwhelming, so much so that she was obliged to give smaller pieces of the plants so that everyone could have something. But between you and me, I’d don’t think she’ll ever run out of coreopsis!

We took a walk through her garden with our shovels and like all people who love gardening could hardly stop talking about our plans and favorites, the overgrown mistakes and the always present need to weed. By the end, she had gifted me with two different varieties of the aforementioned coreopsis, a variegated grass, blue salvia, shasta daisies, gaillardia, black-eyed susans, sweet william and two colors of yarrow. Not to mention, sage oregano chives and thyme.

I came home, spent several hours digging, managed some truly ridiculous tan lines, but filled my heart and garden to overflowing. All the cuttings are drooping and pitiful, shadows of their former glory, color and stature, so I’ve reinforced them with as best I could with several waterings, fertilizer and prayers. When I step back and look at the whole, I really don’t mind their sad state – it really does look like a beautiful wilting.

Ps. To find a Freecycle group near you.

Pss. Pictures coming soon.

Share this post!

This may seem like naval-gazing gone overboard, but lately it has truly taken something extreme to get me to take action. The realization, in this case, only came after a particular nagging feeling would not go away or get any quieter. And it’s just a sentence. One that I wrote myself. But it has bugged me incessantly ever since. Something niggling that I just knew was not right about it.

From my post concerning Madonna House returning the Order of Canada:

“I can’t say that I’m not saddened. I have not been quiet about my love for Madonna House over the years.”

That really should have been written otherwise. In the affirmative. The guilt of using double negatives to hide my feelings has finally got to me and the sentence should have said:

They say the same things, but one is honest and open. The other… well, not. And I desperately want to be open and direct in my life right now.

So, that’s it. Guilt cleared. And anywho, I want to keep this short today. The other thing nagging me is the need to live rather than write. Because if I continuously write, I’m in danger of ceasing to live.

Share this post!