Pedals

I've been off the "blogging bicycle" for a few months and it's time to get back on.

You know what they say about riding a bicycle...

you never forget.

However, it may be worth saying that I haven't truly ridden a bike in over ten years.

The last time I did, I fell in front of an old man raking leaves about 100 feet from where I had my precarious start. And it didn't matter if I was a 20 something young woman, there was a visceral urge to stick my tongue out at him and laugh at the pants he had yanked up to just below his arm pits.

Age is not indicative of maturity, my friends.

Carry that in your pocket and use it when the next opportunity arises.

Seven

I used to be taller than anyone else

Never hid my dreams up on a shelf

Running in circles was always ok

Spinning my wheels was just part of play

I was able to fly high

And so freely laugh

At all of the shadows

The sunshine made pass

Fell down on my knees

Felt no shame to cry

Picked up lost pennies

And chased butterflies

Stared up at the white clouds

That looked like blue whales

Loved when the wind

Filled up tea-towel sails

Singing tunes off-key

Puddle jumping in shoes

Had no trouble asking

just 'what should I do?'

Ran all the way up hill

Just to see if I could

Blew magic bubbles

Coloured my childhood

I used to be brave

and so very strong

Wasn't bothered that I

had no words to my song

Wonder'd up at the moon

Anchored strong in the sky

Listened to crickets

Sing long lullabies

I used to slow right down

watch streams flow right past

Seems they took all my days

And made them rush fast

Now I find myself knee-deep

In old memories

Hands in my pockets

Wishing that I could be:

Strong like the wind

Free like the bird

Pure like the sunshine

With all my words heard

For I used to be brave

I used to be bold

I used to laugh louder

and wish to be old

Because I....

I used to be seven.

The Benefits of Human Observation

Sometimes I think about the girl on TV whose mother had her in two types of cheerleading and dancing six times a week.

She was 10, I think. Her coach made a statement that she was stressed and she had told the mom that it would make her daughter a better cheerleader if she cut back on the lessons. Her mother couldn't fathom that.

I wonder, 4 years later, does that girl talk to her mother now or just slam the door?

Sometimes I think about the woman at the bottle depot shop. She always grunts her answers with a frown on her face. As I ask her questions about herself and she responds bitterly to each one, I ask myself, "Why is she so mad at life? Why is she working at a job she hates so much?"

She owns it. Another situation of rock and hard place, I guess. She lives for the month of November when they go the Dominican.

As I drive away from the bottle depot, frustrated that they close down while they are gone, I wonder if she's happy. I can't picture her with a smile, though.

How random that there is a diaper left on the sidewalk. Did someone just leave it there on purpose? Was it an exasperated mother who couldn't take the stress of changing a baby in the car and as a small token of sharing her pain with the world she tossed it out of the moving vehicle and didn't care that it littered the roadside? I mean, how does a diaper get on the sidewalk?

Frost on the grass eking out an existence until the sun's rays consume it. A brilliant, short reminder that life is brief. I almost miss small things like that because I'm too busy, it seems, washing my dishes to pay attention to the world outside my window.

We all see things and wonder. We all make up stories in our head.

That's why everyone can write a novel.

What a novel idea! And now the news...

Good morning. Our top story this morning is one of exhausting proportions.

I was up from 3:30 am-4:30 am with a sick girlie

I woke up at 5:15 am with a chipper boy-ca

I made pumpkin tarts for breakfast

I went back to sleep at 7:30 am and tucked all the kiddies for a nap. I was on the edge of becoming a grumpy cow.

I turned on the computer, checked the weather and saw this:

Snowfall warning in effect

Today

Rain changing to snow early this morning. Snowfall amount 10 to 15 cm. Local blowing snow. Wind northwest 30 km/h gusting to 50. Temperature steady near plus 1.

I'm going back to bed!

And this special bulletin has just been handed to me. Thanks to this website, I was reminded of what I've wanted to do for many a November now. And this November I'm going to do it. I am now an official member of this year's NaNoWriMo. (Loosely translated as the National Novel Writing Month). Yup. I'm going to write a novel starting November 1st. So, stay tuned to this station for the next week or so as I will be giving you a chance to name a character, pick a plot twist and read the opening pages.

I will keep you posted as this story unfolds. And now a word from our sponsors....

Your Sister,defined

I wrote this poem about myself for my brother, Jeff.

Your Sister, Defined

If I were a crayon, I'd be bright blue

If I were a song, I'd be a groovin' jazz tune

If I were a car, I'd be a VW Bug

If I were a guy, my name would be Doug

If I were an element, I would be water

If I had a choice, I would be taller

If I were a wine, I would be red

If I stopped having birthdays, I would be dead.

Milkshakes

Milkshakes come from cows

And shoes are made of leather

Exhaustion comes from running

And blue skies from pink-night weather

Lemons come from green trees

Fall comes from yellow leaves

Frost comes from nights of full moons

So winter wears woolen sleeves

Spring hops into the air

Like a rush of morning song

That sends the cows a chewing

to make milkshakes all along

How to tell if a woman is pregnant

IdaB: Is Allie letting herself go?

Annika: She does look like she gained a bit. All that chocolate...you know what they say, "a moment on the lips..

IdaB: a lifetime on the hips."

Annika: Oh, wait. Clearly, we were wrong. She's pregnant.

IdaB: What? Are you sure? How can you tell?

Annika: Her hand is resting on her stomach and every once in a while she rubs it in a circular motion.

IdaB: You're right! Gosh, she hardly looks pregnant!

All is fair in love and war!

Well, with Valentine's approaching and my online status being downgraded due to a virus on the computer, I'm writing my valentine's thoughts today.
I thought I would post two poems. Both written about my marriage. One is a poem of love and one is a poem of war. what can I say? The man makes me feel deeply...

The Love one

Soon
And sooner still
I will be beside you
Our hands locked
Our words talked
In a moment
Only soon
My breath you'll take away
Old love songs worn fray
Eyes gazed
Again amazed
If only soon were today

the War one

Raw to the touch
But I'm too exposed now
To turn away would be hiding
To defend would be lying
it's true
It's all true
I was wrong
You were right
And I don't want to fight
that i need you
to be right
i need me to be wrong
It's the same old song
played round like a record
It's just pride that is raw
Just pride that's exposed
Such a poisonous taste
to swallow and know
i was wrong

Happy Valentine's Day everybody. Here's wishing you: the good kind of chocolate, a Nicholas Sparks novel and a smooch from the one you love!

Barracks

"Come back to me."
He ran his fingers across the words stamped into the page. It was only an email, but the words felt alive to his touch.
He sighed, laying back on his bunk and staring at the matress rings above him.
He wanted to go back. Every moment he felt the tug of her love calling to him, pulling him. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought about her face rather than the violence he had seen that day. He wanted to remember the smell of summer in her hair rather than the gritty roar of the convoy trucks, the shrieks of the Afghani people running to hide from the spray of bullets, the tidal wave of fear he had to push aside as he worked with the other medics to save the victims.
He could see her face, smiling at him. Her green eyes looking steady at his. He let his memories of her wash over him like a wave reconciling with the shore. This was his solace.
But even his solace pulled at him...calling him home. He wanted to go, and he wanted to stay. He needed to stay. It was the right place for him to be. If he left now, if they all left now, what about these people? What about their hope for peace, their hope for something different?
Questions he didn't have answers to. Promises he couldn't make. A hard spot for a Canadian soldier to be in.
He picked up the letter and stared at the words, "Come back to me."

The Blue Car

Burnt, charred embers
leave marks on my hands
Easily washed off
with the grit of the sand
that stood under your feet
as you stood on my soul
Helpless and lame
Completely unwhole

Rhonderdons blooming
Stars shining the same
Blues music was booming,
To a tune that was slain...
eking a place in my head
For the swallows to sit
For the swallows, a bed

Drip-drops of the coffee
that I never drink
Sing songs of the melodies
that I never think

Questioned the running of time
through the land
of wheat that blows grandly
while slips through my hand

Wondered at silence
Why nothing was said
Sealed up like drum
That beat in my head

Rhythms stopped rhyming
And moods stopped their sway
Time hands stopped ticking
The moon slipped away

Frayed ribbons
Black hats
Scuffed shoes and dark shades
Under the blue car
that drove far away

letting go and leaving them

I wrote this two years ago. It has some recurring themes of earlier posts, but it's interesting to see what's happenend since then.

It’s been one of those days.
The kind of day where, you force yourself to exercise, as though, you’ve forgotten that you actually love to do it.
The kind of day where you listen to Classical music because it contains moods within the songs and you need mood music.
The kind of day where you find yourself with the thoughts of unforgiveness that you’ve given to God long ago.

Earlier today, while doing the dishes, out of nowhere comes this recurring day dream I have dreamt many a time.
It’s that old favourite—the one where I meet some people who I haven’t seen in years and I’m showing off how great I’ve become since they aren’t in my life any more. The day dream leaves me empty and unfulfilled.
Each time, in my day dream, these people are sorry for not having me in their life. I am one of their BIG regrets in life. And I see hope in their eyes. Hope that we will be friends and share the intimacy that friends share. And then, I laugh. I laugh a hard bitter laugh that says, “You had your chance, loser. I’m better off without you and you can live in a pool of shame and regret for all I care…if I cared.”
Dramatic, non?
In reality, I am probably not one of their BIG regrets. In reality, they probably aren’t even aware that I am this deeply hurt by their actions.
To me, they are a memory that is brought out of the closet of my mind similar to when you clean out that one drawer that you’ve been meaning to clean for months. I am not really sure what to do with it, so it goes back into the drawer until another day forces me to try and sort out the stuff in my mental junk drawer.
This day dream always brings up the question “why?” Why did they hurt me? Why don’t they care? Why don’t they have an embarrassing moment on live TV that I happen to catch with my friends, so that I can say “Hey, those are the idiots who hurt me. Sucks to be them.”
Forgiveness is a funny thing. Well, not forgiveness, but just continually making the choice of forgiveneness when these old memories come up. This day dream is obviously not from God. So, what have I been renewing my mind to?
I’ve been reading and re-reading the scriptures about “forgive as we have been forgiven.” It means forgive and let it go. And though the enemy may throw the mental day dream of bitterness back in your face, you have to choose and remind yourself, “Hey, I’ve already dealt with this. I’ve already forgiven this.” And then just trust God to keep your heart soft towards your enemies.
One thing I’ve started doing is praying for those who’ve hurt me-which is always humbling and hurtful because I so desire God to return to His Old Testament ways and have the earth open up and swallow them alive. But, to pray is to change.
As I’m on my knees I once again find myself embracing the Cross closer than before. Even when I feel like I can’t forgive, I can walk in faith that because Jesus forgave me of all sin, I can now forgive those who’ve hurt me. I pray that I will cheer when I hear that they are succeeding and that I will not live my life in the shadow of trying to prove to people that I’m good enough. I pray that the helmet of salvation will help me guard my mind from futile and evil thoughts. And I pray most of all that I will never forget what Jesus did for me-He forgave me.

I love how the Amplified Translation of the Bible says it : ‘For if you forgive people their trespasses (their reckless and willful sins, leaving them, letting them go, and giving up resentment), your Heavenly Father will also forgive you. Matthew 6:14

Today Lord I chose to remain in an attitude of forgiveness. And I pray for unity within the Body of Christ. And I thank you that where I have hurt someone deeply, you have not opened up the ground and swallowed me alive.

For Corrina

Here are my scrapbook pictures that I created for my brother's wedding.