It’s a mystery, all right …

My mind definitely wanders. I do love to daydream. And you could say I have an over-active imagination. So is it any wonder this recent WordPress Daily Post Chocolate Cakereally tickled my fancy?

“You walk into your home to find a couple you don’t know sitting in your living room, eating a slice of cake. Tell us what happens next.”

Well to begin with, I’m not sure I would have been more startled by the strangers in my house or the fact they were eating cake. I never have cake in my house. Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But only slight.

First of all, I don’t bake. I’m not a sweet lover. From time to time I get a craving, but they are few and far

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Blog tour: The writing process

Pete Armetta is a writer whose work I love. I love his thoughts and I love how he expresses them, whether it’s through poetry, short stories, essays or writingquillfiction. Yes, he is that versatile, that able, that talented. I ‘met’ him here, on WordPress; and from the very first moment I read one of his posts I became a fan. And a follower.

Here’s your chance to do the same.

A couple of nights ago he invited me to participate in The Writing Process blog tour. He’d been invited by a friend and fellow blogger. Read what he shared, with just one click.

Some info I knew, some I didn’t. But none of it surprised me. Because along with being a terrific writer, he is committed and passionate and determined.

The Writing Process:

1. What are you working on?

A bit of background, first. My mother used to tell me as far back as when I was 11 or 12 years old, I routinely re-wrote (and re-thought) ads I saw in magazines. So I suppose it wasn’t ‘news’ when I told my parents, at age 15, I wanted to work in advertising.

And it is what I ended up doing. First as a copywriter, then as a creative director — for the Montreal and Toronto offices of some of the world’s biggest

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My new favourite way to start the day …

I’ve always been a gizmo/gadget kinda gal.  I’m not ashamed to admit I like them; and am always willing to make room for another one.  I’m not necessarily thecup of coffee first in line to buy the ‘newest’ thingamabob on the market, but it’s pretty damn close.

So it’s been sort of surprising, to all who know me, that I’ve been so resistant to buying one of those one-cup coffee makers.  You know the ones I mean.  You fill the cylinder (or whatever it’s called) with water whenever it’s empty,  insert one of those already-filled-with-pre-measured-coffee doodahs in the appropriate place and presto — a steaming, freshly-brewed cup of your favourite java in mere seconds.

It’s not like I don’t know they exist.  All my friends have them.  And years ago, when there was only one kind on the market — at least here in Canada — an early-adopter business partner of mine bought one and raved about it.  Like me, she’s single and loved the fact she could have a cup of coffee without having to make a pot — the balance of which usually gets tossed down the sink.  And there’s no muss, no fuss.  No filters to throw away, no coffee grinds all over the sink, nothing to wash out when you’re done, except your cup.

She couldn’t convince me.

Neither could anyone else, even when they demonstrated and served me the most delicious little cup of espresso, Continue reading

Is it me?

What’s going on?  Am I just getting cranky and intolerant in my old age?  Because I don’t know about you, but it sure feels like I’m living in a world where manners and civility are fast becomingcranky endangered species.

A world where callous, boorish, insensitive, classless, vile behaviour is, sadly, becoming the norm; and is generally accepted, excused, ignored, overlooked and, sometimes, even rewarded.

Of what do I speak?

If, in the end, the NBA does find a way to make Donald Sterling sell the Clippers he will make pots and pots and pots of money.  He’ll laugh all the way to the bank.  And he’ll still be a racist pig.  And a womanizer.  And a slum landlord.  He’s 80 years old and he’s got prostate  cancer.  He’s not about to change any time soon.  And why would he?  He’s gotten away with it so far.

If, in the end, by some miracle Toronto’s Mayor, Rob Ford, comes out of rehab and never smokes crack or drinks  Continue reading