Imagine, a hangover. But not from cocktails.
A heavy head, filled with fog. Thick and soupy, full of words that won’t transmit.
A fantasy filled with desire and hope.
There is no time, no peace, no focus.
But it will come. It has to.
The story takes shape, slowly, like the torso of a snowman. Getting bigger, fatter.
Until it melts. Again.
Sleep eludes. The wifi beckons. It never sleeps.
Maybe the words will form at dawn.
Imagine a writer. A house full of family. Noise and clutter.
Continue reading Imagine a writer
The majority of us are dehydrated.
excessive moderate coffee/tea/wine/beer/cocktail drinkers among us.
We are not drinking enough water and I can prove it. Read this short article and tell me it doesn’t make you think!
Continue reading You can’t go wrong with water
As some of you know, I went to school with a boy who became a famous, and internationally known musician, singer, guitar player.
Since discovering him on social media and following him along, I have reminisced about an art class we both took in grade 11. I wanted to know if he, too, remembers that particular class. In part 1 of this story I wrote about how we met.
Later, I decided to reach out to him to ask him about that class. I wasn’t really expecting a response. I figured he was busy and famous and that he probably employs PR people to run his social media account. But I sent him a DM in Instagram anyway. Part 2 of this story tells you what happened next.
Continue reading Reaching out anyway – part 3
To be quite honest, I don’t really believe in this whole gift giving thing at Christmas anymore. Sure, let the kids have some presents, but for myself, I honestly don’t need or even want anything.
Which doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the token. I’m just saying, save your money. 🙂
Continue reading Thoughts about gift giving, writing and She Sheds
She saw him sitting there on a bar stool at the counter, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He was looking at a screen in his hand. He didn’t see her looking at him.
Continue reading The abstract dream
Imagine, a cabin. A single room with a small kitchenette, indoor plumbing, electricity and a fireplace.
Continue reading The writer’s cabin
Today I attracted a bunch of airheads and an asswipe. So I came home at lunch and I’m not leaving ever again.
Continue reading An irksome morning
I will begin my story with the happy ending: I’m home, no one was hurt, maimed, killed or sent to jail today despite the weather that could have caused all of the above, and I have tea and a pecan butter tart.
Still interested in my many mishaps? Read on, then…
Continue reading A day of mishaps
A few months ago I stumbled across a rather interesting (and ridiculous) historical article which described how to have sex with your husband in the 1960s. The rules the women were taught to follow are hugely out of place in today’s society, but it nevertheless served as an insight to how things used to be (in the not too distant past) and, what’s more, how things still are in many societies today.
This morning I came across another similar article, but this one has to do with travel. More specifically, how a woman in the 1850s was to travel if she didn’t have a male escort to accompany her.
Continue reading Rules for women who travel alone in the 1850s