Elegy to a furbag

She had perfect hair, and that’s saying something.  It was medium length, mostly medium brown, with highlights of grey-black and ginger and even some light…light that could have been blond or could have been white.  And, soft?  It had the most flawless texture—hard to imagine hair so soft.

Her eyes?  The most beautiful eyes, almond-shaped and a shade of green like the colour of emeralds that sparkled in the right light.  Her eyeliner, a think black rim around the top and the bottom, was perfection.

Her feet were tiny by anyone’s standards and her nails were most always clean, neat and dainty.

Until she dug them into your knee or the leather couch.

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Yoga in the barnyard…..or…you have goat to be kidding me!

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(sorry, that was the best pun I could muster—it’s not as easy as you think)

It was late on a Sunday morning climbing towards noon as I drove up a rural highway I hadn’t traveled in years.  The sky was light blue and tinged with wisps of high white clouds, and the first hints of the forest fires on the other side of the Rockies obscured the mountain range and brought a haze to the fields surrounding the road as I headed north.

The fields themselves were mostly varying shades of green, alternating from bright to dark to something in the middle; scattered about was the occasional patch of dirt or an incredibly bright yellow triangle highlighting the canola flowers just beginning to bloom.

It was hot, and going to get hotter, but I shut off the AC, turned down the radio and opened the windows to take in the sounds and the smells of the countryside.

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He’s the Man: Watching Joe Jackson, again, for real….

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I can’t believe I’ve lived in Calgary for as long as I have and have never, ever been to the Folk Music Festival.  Not sure exactly why–time of year, crowds and the inherent hassle that comes with a big event (not that that’s stopped me before), a lineup that hasn’t stopped me in my tracks–you know–the kind of acts where you say–that’s nice, but is it worth the effort?

So this year, when the lineup was announced, I took a look, as I always do, and one of the headliners caught my eye.

Joe Jackson.  No, no relation to Michael, as I had to explain to my mother.  Joe Jackson, the British blues-jazz-new wave-all around talented musician.

It wouldn’t be first time I’d seen him…

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You meet the nicest people….

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This…plus a credit card, a little cash and a couple pairs of underwear…and you’re good to go.

I went on my first solo trip in a very, very long time last month.

I didn’t realize it at first, because I’ve travelled a lot of places by myself. I fly to New York to visit family and friends all the time and no one goes with me; I’ve been to Europe and all over Canada on business; I’ve gone many places, an adult alone, with a child in tow.

But as a friend explained to me today, this is the first time in a long time I’ve gone on vacation alone.

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Going Back….

 

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Plus ça change, plus ça même chose….

K, so it’s the first weekend of Stampede and I can see the fireworks waay off in the distance as they explode over Stampede Park.  They’re pretty far away—I can’t hear them—but the view from my apartment is pretty cool.

It’s super hot during the day—the kind of heat that causes the clouds to bubble up at the end of the day, and threaten to drop a pound or two of hail onto your garden, or worse, the hood of your car.

It’s that heat that’s just unbearable—the kind that drags you down and makes you grateful for a respite in an air-conditioned restaurant or pub or club.

It was just like this a year ago, when I was in the middle of a life transition.

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In My Father’s Footsteps

IMG_7695It’s Father’s Day.  In case you didn’t know.

My father’s been dead for more than 50 years; he passed away when I was seven.

I can’t pretend to have fond memories of him, or any memories at all for that matter. Actually, that’s not true; I have some very vague recollections of a handful of specific events—some good, some not so good–but that’s about it.

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Looking for a few good…books….

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These were my dad’s…I don’t know that I’ve ever read one from cover to cover

I spend too much time my electronic devices.

My phone is usually the first thing I pick up in the morning and the last thing I plug in at night. Yes, I still have an alarm clock; I was just thinking about this the other day–I will most likely keep using it until it dies and then probably not replace it, because why?

Then I go for the iPad.  I have two; one is ancient but still works, and the other is a newer version, complete with key pad and lovely all-in-one carrying case (ok, it’s not lovely, but it works).

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