Must everything come with a guarantee?

It’s been quite a while since I’ve read, or been inspired, by the WordPress Daily Posts.  So the other day I decided to give it a whirl and saw something kinda interesting:  “Tell us about something you would attempt if you were guaranteed not to fail (and tell us why you haven’t tried it yet.)”

At first blush I thought, “hey, wouldn’t it be cool to know, before you even tried, whether or not whatever you were thinking of doing would work or not?”  Regardless of what it is, whether it’s quitting your job to freelance, changing professions, going

Glug, glug …

Well, this recent WordPress Daily Post certainly got me thinking:  “Captain Picard was into Earl Grey Tea: mention the Dude and we think:  White Russians.  What’s your signature beverage — and how did it achieve that status?”

Fact is, I don’t have a signature beverage.  Never did.  I’m an equal opportunity drinker.

Although having said that, if I was going to have a signature drink it would be Lillet.

It’s a French aperitif and it’s delicious — at least I think so.  It’s wonderful on the rocks, with a twist of lemon.  I was introduced to it back in Montreal, at a French restaurant (Chez Georges) I used to frequent.  It’s

Somewhere for me, myself and I …

It’s been a while since I’ve checked out the WordPress Daily Posts.  So I decided to see what I’ve been missing.  Lo and behold, I found something really interesting; and inspiring:

“An extra room has magically been added to your home overnight.  The catch:  if you add more than three items to it, it disappears.  How do you use it?”

Now I know why my cats were restless last night.  Their sixth sense must have been kicking in like crazy.  What self-respecting cat wouldn’t be spooked by the sudden appearance of a room that hadn’t been there before, one that was just down the hall from mine, over there, on the left, beside the living room?

And I guess I wasn’t dreaming when I heard a door gently close.  It was ‘real’ enough for me to open my

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 really 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

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 the 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,

Don’t take it personally …

I’ve been surrounded by creative people all my life, and I am one, myself.  And I’ve never known one, including me, who isn’t sensitive and easily hurt.  Guess it comes with the territory.  We do lay our souls bare for everyone to see, after all.  And stomp all over.  Who wouldn’t be insecure?  So needless to say, today’s Daily Post resonated with me:

“Tell us about the harshest, most difficult to hear — but accurate — criticism you’ve ever gotten.  Does it still apply?”

Of course this could be taken any one of a number of ways.  The way you dress, the colour of your hair, your weight, your cooking skills, your breath, your driving, whatever.  But seeing as how we’re all here to share our creativity — be it writing or photography or art or baking or crafting — I thought I’d talk about how it feels when people criticize our work.

Having worked in the advertising industry as a writer/creative director for more years than I care to think about, I am VERY familiar with criticism.  While it sometimes feels like you’ve been slapped in the face, I have

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 277. Big Picture

Hmmm.  Here’s some food for thought.  Yesterday’s Daily Prompt, here on WordPress, sure made me stop and ponder.  “When you gaze out your window — real or figurative — do you see the forest first, or the trees?”  Hmmm …

How many times have you said, when thinking about someone, “He (or she) can’t see the forest for the trees?”  To me it means whoever you’re describing is so caught up in the minutiae, they’re missing the point.  The big picture.

Patient and tolerant as I try to be, if I am going to be totally honest with you, which I am, I must admit people like that frustrate me.  I work hard to help them through it, but it’s tough slogging.  Much harder, and more painful, for me, than it is for them, I am sure.

So from this I guess we can all conclude when I look out my window (the one in my brain, which is really what

Day 276. Gimme Five!!

Yesterday’s WordPress Daily Prompt really caught my eye.  The theme?  “Success”.  “Tell us about a time where everything you’d hoped would happen actually did.” Well, I thought to myself.  This one has my name on it.  

One of my earliest memories of myself is when I was about four years old.  I’d been a flower girl at my great uncle’s wedding.  My dress was ankle-length, pale pink tulle and it had tiny pink silk roses randomly tacked on the skirt every here and there.  A true fairy princess gown.  Needless to say I wanted to wear it every day.  I even wanted to sleep in it.

I loved looking at the wedding photos.  My favourite, obviously, was one of me, walking down the aisle.  It was in black and white.  I am probably the originator of  the hand-tinted photo craze.  Because much to my mother’s dismay she walked in on me one morning, colouring over the photograph.

“What are you doing, Fransi?” she yelled.  “My dress is pink”, was my answer.  Really, could you argue with that logic?

From that day, I always had crayons or pencils or pastels or a paint brush in my hand.  I went through reams and reams of paper.  My mother used to tell me, even as I got older and went to school, every text book and every note pad and work book

Day 242. A Challenge

How’s this for something completely different?  Today’s post has nothing to do with me.  It’s all about you.  At least that’s what I’m hoping for.  Confused?  Don’t be.  It’s really simple.

Yesterday I wrote about six-word memoirs.  Inspired by how many of you took the time to add your six-word memoirs to “Comments”, when I went to bed last night I thought about how much fun it would be if, somehow, we got the message out to all WordPress bloggers.

If, somehow, we could get thousands and thousands of WordPress bloggers engaged enough in the idea, to submit six-word memoirs of their own.

Make it go viral, in other words.

When I woke up this morning, I was still excited about the idea.  And if I’ve learned anything during my time on this planet, I’ve learned to follow my gut.  When I have a thought, or an idea, that just won’t go away I have to