It never ceases to amaze me …

I don’t go to an office job every day. I’m a freelance writer and although the last several weeks have been very hectic, I do usually have a fair amount of time each week to myself. Which means I don’t have to cram my entire to-do list into just two days — Saturday and Sunday.

So can someone tell me why I start every week with a new list and I end every week with some items still not crossed off? It’s the same story every week. I don’t think I’m disorganized. It’s true that I do work well under pressure, but I’m not a chronic

Wow, is it Tuesday already???

No time for a blog this week, sorry. See you next week. 

As we hurtle toward another new year …

When I was young I was impatient. I couldn’t wait to be 13, then 16, then 18, then 21. I couldn’t wait to become a teenager, to drive, to date, to vote, to work, to live on my own. Time moved so slowly, too slowly. It drove me crazy.

Now that I’m in my dotage it’s the exact opposite. I can’t keep up, can’t keep track. The days turn into weeks and months and years and decades way too quickly. It’s not fair, what’s the rush?

Why can there be no happy medium?

Don’t bother trying to come up with an answer. It’s one of those

Waiting

It was Christmas time. My mother was in Toronto, visiting me. She was only here a day or two when the call came. My grandmother had pneumonia, bacterial, and the prognosis wasn’t good.

My mother and I left for Montreal immediately, going directly to the nursing home when we arrived.

And there we stayed, all of us, me, my mother and both my aunts sitting there, in her room. Listening. A ragged breath, a beep from the monitor, a ragged breath, a beep

Last supper …

Talk about “food for thought”.  Last Friday’s WordPress Daily Prompt sure got my imagination going:  “Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die.  The world is ending tomorrow!  Tell us about your last dinner — the food, your dining companions, the setting, the conversation.”  

Lots and lots of possibilities.  I’m overwhelmed with choices.  Where to start, where to start.

Hmmmm …

I think, first, I have to decide where this dinner should take place.  I know one thing.  Wherever it is, we have to be comfortable.  I love dinners that are slow and leisurely.  So comfy chairs are an absolute must.  Big enough to have room to move around in.  Good support for your back.  And soft enough to cushion

Day 328. New Rules?

Live forever? What an intriguing idea. I wouldn’t mind, would you? There are so many things I’d like to do, so many trips I’d like to take, so many opportunities yet to be seized, I always say there’s not nearly enough time for me to get it all done. It frustrates me, to be honest. Guess that’s why I was so drawn to yesterday’s WordPress Daily Prompt:

“You’ve imbibed a special potion that makes you immortal. Now that you’ve got forever, what changes will you make in your life? How will you live life differently, knowing you’ll always be around to be accountable for your actions?”

Like I said, “interesting”. At first my mind just boggled with all the possibilities.

In my head, I’ve got some thoughts about two books. In addition to the one I’m writing. I’d have plenty of time to write them all; and then some. I’d get to Australia and New Zealand and Tahiti and Fiji and Bali and

Day 304. Truly Inspiring

I’m always providing links to blogs I’ve read and really enjoyed. Or where I’ve found the inspiration for a post of my own. But I’ve never actually written out the content of another blog.

So today is a first for me. I was so moved, so touched and so inspired by what I read the other day, I knew a link just wouldn’t do it justice. The words themselves, the spirit behind them and the lesson to be learned, is just too powerful.

Particularly when you consider the poem I’m going to share with you was written by a young girl. Only fourteen or fifteen years old, in fact. But first, some background.

Elizabeth Blue, who wrote the poem, passed away on September 23, 2012, from lymphoma. Wise and talented far beyond her years, she was a gifted and prolific writer. She and her mother started a blog, Luminous Blue, when she first became ill. It’s purpose — to tell she story of their journey “with transformation, cancer, death and LOVE”. I’ve been following it for about a year.

Even though Elizabeth is gone, the blog goes on. What you’re about to read is the poem Elizabeth wrote when she was in her freshman year of high school 2004 – 2005. Long before she got sick. Long before there was even a hint her life would be cut short. Long before she’d experienced enough of life to be this wise. This ‘connected’ to her soul. I read it

Day 270. At Ease …

Ahhhhh … it feels SO good.  A two-day break from movies.  A two-day break from trying to fit client work, my blog and HotDocs into sixteen or so hours.  It’s amazing how much time it all takes.  How much time it takes up.  How little time it leaves for ME.

I have to admit, I’ve been a bit stressed trying to get it all done.  It’s not like I’m crazy busy.  Writing a blog every day definitely does add pressure, but I love doing it.  My client work load is certainly manageable.  And I’ve only been seeing one, and occasionally two, docs a day.  So what’s the big deal?

Well, by the time the cats are dealt with, my blog’s posted and I’m showered, fed and dressed it’s late morning.  Until it’s time to leave for the theatre, I’m busy taking care of business.  When the films are in the evening, even early evening, it’s not bad.  But when they’re in the daytime, it really interrupts my day.  And ends up putting pressure on me.

When you’re going to regular movies during the year, you just have to get there before they start.  Even if you’ve got seconds to spare.  But with festivals you want to get there at least a half hour prior; and, if you’re particular  about where you sit (aisle seats, close or far away from the screen, etc.) you have to line up early.  An hour or

Day 174. Zoom Zoom

It’s freaking me out.  It was just summer.  Next thing I knew it was Christmas.  It seemed to show up so quickly.  I was totally unprepared.  Christmas?  It was just Thanksgiving.  In a blink we’d crossed over into a new year.

2012 had come and gone while, to me, it felt as if it was just getting started.

Now it’s virtually the end of January.  In just a few days we’ll be in the second month of the new year.  And it will be spring a month later.  Winter will be behind us.  And yet technically, it’s still ahead of us.

But as I say it, we get that much closer to the end of it.

Summer will be upon us, before we’ve had a chance to enjoy the tulips and daffodils.  Before we have a chance to catch our breath.  Regain some equilibrium.  To recover from the cold.  To shake the snow off ourselves, one last

Day 101. Late? Never!

My father was the kindest, nicest, most understanding, most forgiving, most even-keeled man you’d ever want to meet.  But he did have one obsession.  Being on-time.

He was actually incapable of being late.  And if you were late, it drove him nuts.  And, made him hot under the collar.  His idea of being on-time was, in fact, to be fifteen minutes early.

So when you showed up on-time, at the exact time you should have, in his mind you were already late.  It was his one peculiarity.

As a result we all danced to his tune (or at least his watch), in our house.  Or at least my mother did.  When my parents were going out, my mother would start getting ready hours early.  It drove me insane.  When we were all going, she used to want me to start getting ready when she did.

On principle I’d refuse.  Plus I also knew that my ‘preparations’ never took me very long.  I knew exactly how much time I needed.  And so, we’d play this little game.  Parry and thrust.  At