Day 291. Finding Inspiration

Yesterday I wrote about the goal I set for myself when I started this blog. The author of Book Peeps, a WordPress blog I follow, commented. When I responded to her comment, I talked about how my career in advertising, an industry where ‘ideas’ are what we sell, has taught me how to find inspiration.

She then wrote back, suggesting I make that the subject of another blog post. Here it is.

It’s interesting. Whenever I tell anyone I blog each and every day I get the same reaction. “I wish I had your discipline”, is one. And the other is, “I don’t know where you get all those ideas”.

Obviously there’s nothing I can say or do to make you, or anyone else, a disciplined writer. It’s something you have to do for yourself. You either are, or you aren’t. My contention is, you have to want to do it. Whether it’s

Day 290. Great Expectations?

It feels like I’m becoming addicted to the WordPress Daily Prompts.  Nothing wrong with it.  They offer up some terrific ideas.  Like yesterday’s.  “Goals”.  When you started your blog, did you set any goals?  Have you achieved them?  Have they changed at all?

How could I not write about this topic?

Of course I set goals when I decided to start this blog.  Well, ONE goal, to be precise.  But it’s a WHOPPER!  A goal is its whole reason for being.

My goal was to write every single day for a year.  365 days.  Every twenty-four hours.  Fifty-two weeks.  Twelve months.  An entire annum. Day in.  Day out.  Week days.  Weekends.  Holidays.  Winter.  Spring.  Summer.  Fall.  Rain or shine.   In sickness and in health.  Come hell or high water.  Without fail.  No days off for good

Day 289. Mixed Feelings

“Life at best is bittersweet” Jack Kirby

Normally I probably wouldn’t have used yesterday’s WordPress Daily Post as inspiration for a story. “Bittersweet Memories”. “You receive a gift that is bittersweet and makes you nostalgic. What is it?”

It is a bit too melancholy for me. But I was at the hospital volunteering when I read it; and it instantly conjured a memory for me.

When my mother moved to Toronto she knew no one, other than me and my closest friend. When I was growing up she was a hospital volunteer. It was always something she enjoyed doing, so she told me she planned to do it here, as well. It would not only give her something to do, she figured it would also be a good way to meet people. So she signed up for two days a week, Mondays and Tuesdays.

She moved here when she was seventy-five. By the time she turned eighty, she’d made quite a few good friends. I wanted to make her a party. Eighty is, after all, a milestone. She didn’t want a party. She said she’d prefer to

Day 288. Sheer Coincidence

I woke up yesterday morning to find an email in my inbox from a friend of mine who lives in Montreal.  I met her years and years and years and years ago, through a mutual friend.  How I met our mutual friend, Jayne, is an interesting story in and of itself.

The first time I saw her, I was working at an ad agency.  It was my first job.  I heard her before I saw her.  She had this deep, throaty laugh.  Then I saw her.  Flaming red hair, arm loads of bracelets, necklace upon necklace wound around her neck, laying over and under an Hermes scarf, tied just so.  Puffing on a foul-smelling cigarette.  A Gitanes.  She was Canadian, but lived in Paris.

She had come to visit her brother-in-law, who was our production manager.  We never exchanged even one

Day 287. Sound Advice

Kate, who writes Views and Mews by Coffee Kat, had a wonderful post yesterday, about her mother.  More specifically, it was a story about one time she (Kate) had to take her mother to the hospital; and how, when they were on their way, her mom made her stop at a restaurant for lunch.

It immediately made me think of my own mother.  And a trip (one of several) we made to the hospital.

When my mother was in her sixties she was diagnosed with diabetes.  She was put on medication and was watched, like a hawk, by an endocrinologist.  Despite her fondness for chocolate her numbers were always excellent, until the day she died.  They always hovered just slightly above normal.

What will always mystify me, though, is why her body was literally ravaged by the disease, even though her diabetes was so well controlled.  She had every known complication you could think of.  Diabetic retinopathy,

Day 286. Something’s Fishy

What are you afraid of?  There’s got to be something.  I’m afraid of heights.  So one thing’s for sure.  You will NEVER catch me washing windows for a living.  Or walking a tightrope.  Or bungee jumping.  No siree!  Not even if a gun was pointed at my head.

Now zip lining.  That looks like fun.  It’s something I’d like to try.  Of course I say that with my feet planted firmly on the ground.  Whether I’d ever have the balls to do it is a whole other story.  But I think it would be very cool.

Let’s see.  What else am I afraid of?  Needles used to do it for me.  But I had to have so many different shots when I went to India I got over it.  I wanted to take the trip so badly I overcame my fear.  I’ll bet that’s pretty common.  I think we have the power to talk ourselves into and out of most anything.

When I would have thought I’d be scared, I wasn’t.  The terrorist attacks in Mumbai took place less than two weeks

Day 285. They’re Off!!!

It’s a long weekend here, in Canada.  The first of the summer season.  Victoria Day.  In honour of Queen Victoria’s birthday.  She was born in 1819 and is the great, great grandmother of Britain’s current reigning monarch, Queen Elizabeth.  A more interesting factoid is, Prince Philip (Queen Elizabeth’s husband) is her great, great grandson.

Which means Prince Philip and Queen Elizabeth are not just husband and wife.  They are also third cousins.

Not that the purpose of this post is to give you a history lesson.  Or get into the perils of in-breeding.

The truth is, I’m not sure what’s more significant about this, particular, long weekend.  The fact we’re

Day 284. I Remember

My paternal grandmother was an art and antique dealer.  Although as I recall, much of her collecting was done for herself and us, of course.  Her family.  She did do some business, but every time she went out on behalf of a client she would end up adding to her own collections.  Or my parents.  Or mine.  She started putting stuff away for me when I was just a child.

She took me to my first auction when I was about thirteen or fourteen years old.  She taught me how to bid.  And when to back off.  I still have a small painting I got at that auction.  It was a long time ago, but I still remember how excited I was.

It turned out she passed her love of beautiful things on to my father.  And he, in turn, passed it on to me.  In fact, a lot of the time he and I spent together revolved around shopping and collecting and decorating my apartments.

Day 283. Atchoo! Atchoo!!

I can’t remember the last time I had a cold.  I’m almost afraid of saying it out loud, for fear of jinxing myself.  Sadly, though, I think it’s already too late.  Monday afternoon, when I got home from a meeting, my throat suddenly felt a bit scratchy and sore.  Then I sneezed a few times.

Uh oh!!

Wouldn’t have been surprised if I was catching a cold.  The weather has been positively bizarre here.  Suddenly we went from winter to summer.  And I do mean suddenly.  One day I was wearing a down-filled coat.  The next I was out with sandals and a T-shirt.

That lasted exactly five days.  And then it was back to the winter coat.  We even had snow flurries.  And in

Day 282. True Love

As you have, no doubt, gathered I’ve begun to check out the WordPress Daily Prompts. They’re interesting and often inspire me. Yesterday’s had my imagination running wild. “Unconventional Love“. It went on to say, “Over the weekend we explored different ways to love. Today, tell us about the most unconventional love in your life.”

There’s no end to the possibilities. The mind boggles.

The most unconventional love in my life?? Hmmmm … . After thinking about it for a while I’ve come to the conclusion there’s never been anything about my love life one would consider unconventional. How boring. I’m almost embarrassed to admit it.

I’ve had a couple of long distance romances. But that hardly qualifies as unconventional. At least to me. It’s not exactly the norm, but lots of people have them. Do you think they’re unconventional? Unconventional love. I was stumped. Still am.

Unless …