Amid all the ugliness last week, I did get some glimpses of sunshine; and I’m not talking about the 
weather. Twice, I spent time with people I haven’t seen in years, and I do mean years, reminiscing about all the good times we shared.
The last several years I lived in Montreal I was doing advertising and PR in the fashion industry; and, after a couple of years at a tiny agency that specialized in the fur industry, I ended up working for a manufacturer and Continue reading
I’ve been blogging since 2008. Originally it was an easy way to keep in touch with all my friends and 
family while I was on a month-long trip to India. I also thought that some day it might be fun, and interesting, to do some travel writing so I did have a bit of an ulterior motive — it was like a dress rehearsal of sorts.
Once I returned home and found myself back in the daily grind, travel ended up on the back burner. But I was hooked on blogging and tried several — I blogged about advertising, I blogged about my experiences as a Continue reading
A friend’s grandson just turned 1 and I went to his birthday party. I was talking to her 
daughter’s (the baby’s mother) father-in-law and Ellen (my friend) said to him, “Fransi and I have known each other all our lives.” He was intrigued and wanted to know more.
Our mothers met in the laundry room of the apartment building where they both lived, in Montreal. I was an infant. Her parents were newlyweds. The Continue reading
It seems I’ve got supernatural powers. Well, not across the board. I do have my limitations. But I seem to be able to 
conjure people. People who magically appear (or re-appear) into my life after long absences. It’s nothing new, actually. I’ve done it for years — never intentionally, mind you. It just happens.
Last month it happened twice, within days of each other. Which is extraordinary in and of itself, don’t you think?
The first time freaked me out I don’t mind telling you. I’m still talking to myself. There’s a gal I’ve known most of my life — by which I mean, we first met when I was about eight or nine years old. That’s most of your life, right?
She, her three siblings and their parents, lived a block away from where I lived, in Montreal, with Continue reading
Yesterday Kate over at Views & Mews By Coffee Kat wrote an interesting post. It’s about how she misses the friends she’s made here, on WordPress, who no longer
blog. Fellow bloggers who became followers of hers and vice versa. It made me think of similar experiences I’ve had.
This is a funny, interesting little world we inhabit, for as many hours a week as we spend on our own blogs, and those of others. We get to know each other quite well, when you consider we don’t ever see each other in the traditional ways. We don’t go for coffee or lunch or dinner. We don’t talk on the phone or go for walks or go shopping together.
Not that we wouldn’t if we lived in the same cities. In fact, I’m sure we would. But we live all over the place. Different cities. And even different continents. I have met a fellow blogger for coffee twice, because we both Continue reading
This is highly unusual. It’s Monday night and I’m sitting here, writing tomorrow’s blog. Don’t always write them in advance. Of course if you’re reading this, it’s
already tomorrow. Tuesday. But for me, right now, it’s still tonight (last night for you, though).
Tuesday’s my day to volunteer. I start at 8:00 a.m. Which means if I want to write and post my blog at my usual time I have to get up very, very early. Like 4:30 or 5:00 a.m. early. Usually I don’t mind. But I don’t want to do it this time. I’m too tired.
I’ve been writing into the wee small hours lately. Practically every night for a couple of weeks. And by wee small hours I mean until 2:30 or even 3:00 a.m. So I am definitely sleep deprived. And it’s beginning to catch up with me. Plus the weather’s really getting me down.
Making me very drowsy. Dark and dismal and wet does not work for me. Not at all.
We have had very few sunny days so far this summer. And very few warm days. I’m cold most of the time. I’m wearing sweaters and even jackets. And still I shiver. The minute I wake up I have to close my windows and get back into bed for fifteen minutes, to warm up, before I take a shower.
In the middle of June? Continue reading
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 Continue reading
I so enjoy reading the blogs on WordPress. They don’t just inspire ‘me’, they often inspire an idea. Just like Tony’s post on his blog, Finding Subjects, 
did yesterday. He wrote about a turtle he saw on a walk.
It was far from water, and all holed up in its shell. He wondered if the turtle needed help, and debated whether or not to intervene. He talked to it (didn’t mention what he said in his post) and it must have been exactly the encouragement the turtle needed, because it stuck its neck out and walked away.
A lovely story, don’t you think?
Got me thinking about all the times I’ve needed a gentle prod. A thumbs-up. A nudge. A kick in the pants.
There are times even the strongest, most determined, most confident, most ‘together’ of us, are uncertain. Or insecure. Not quite committed enough. In an I’ll-get-around-to-it-later mood. Or just not sure we should or Continue reading
A headline on the front page of the Styles section in this past Sunday New York Times caught my attention: “Forging A Bond In Mud And Guts”. It was a story about
“Tough Mudder”. Which is, as Joshua David Stein (the writer) explains, “an extreme obstacle course that is becoming the macho sport of choice for Type A men (and some women) who find marathons too easy and triathlons meh”.
My interest in the story had nothing to do with any desire, on my part, to roll around in the mud. Not even with some hunky ‘warrior’ type. I was intrigued by the pulling together, the teamwork and the camaraderie between these guys. And also by the encouragement they gave each other. Even though, for the most part, they’d entered the event as strangers.
They were bonding. It was instinctive. Primal. In this case, it was happening because of the gruelling Continue reading
Before you read this story, I just want to let you know that the WordPress blog, Magnificent Nose, is featuring Flash Fiction this week. I have a guest post today, “Poetic Justice?” Hope you’ll check it out, and keep going back. It’s a great blog.
Yesterday I wrote about twins. In that story, I made a very brief reference to my being an only child. Today, I’m thinking about what that means. Can’t speak for 
everyone else out there without brothers and sisters, but I love my own company. I never feel lonely. I do like being alone. Not all the time. But probably more than many.
And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if my being an only child has a lot to do with it. It would make sense.
Because I have no siblings I spent a fair bit of time alone, growing up. Yes, my parents were there. Yes, I always had lots of friends, lots of friends coming over to my house to play, to study, for meals. I always had lots of parties, lots of sleepovers. But eventually they went home, to their own houses; and then it was back to just me and my parents. We had a large, extended family. Lots and lots of cousins (many of whom are very close to my age) and aunts and uncles and grandparents. We were together very, very often. Most weekends, in fact; and often, during the week as well. But eventually we all went home, to our respective houses; and again it was back to me and just my parents.
I spent a lot of time with my parents’ friends, especially the women. I often said I had my own relationships with them. I loved my conversations with them. They never treated me like a child; and I guess because of all the time I spent with adults, I was more sophisticated Continue reading
365 And Counting 