The Pits and Pieces

  Dear Blog Reader Who would have thought, when I took blog school  almost two years ago, that I would still be here. When I signed up, spontaneously, without much thought, I had no idea that one of the requirements was that you actually had to HAVE a blog site, and as part of the sessions, you would be required to post actual blogs! I’d blithely assumed that the course would be all theory that I could put into practice later . . .   or not. If I had known I’d be expected to write blog posts right away, every few days . . . well, I would have dithered, and not signed up. But once Kerry Clare told me I was in, and what was required, I quickly set up a site, and . . . 99 posts later . . .   here I am with # 100. Photo from Unsplash And who are you out there, reading this blog site? Other than a few regulars, I don’t know who the readers are. So, why do I keep writing these posts? What have I written about? Mostly ponderings and observations about life as an aging woman, friendsh

  A chance question on a post about how has your summer been, in a one-word hashtag, to which I responded: #summerofwantingmorewantingless. But what prompted that spontaneous response? What did I want more of? What did I want less of? I decided I’d try and break it down. Want More of: ·        Writing time. More of feeling good about what I’ve written. More solid chunks where the fingers fly across the keyboard, producing words. But not just any words. Good words. Good sentences. Good paragraphs. ·        Quality time with people. Time where you’re not just talking AT each other, but TO each other and WITH each other. More sharing, less comparing. ·        Reading time. Although that’s expanded and exploded lately. And I’m happy with that. But more reading time is always a good thing. ·        Walking time. There have been days when it’s been too hot or too wet to walk. More beauty in the form of nature trails and old, shady trees with gnarly branches. More days where the a

  “What has aging brought you?” was one of the writing prompt questions this week in an email subscription. Bemoaning the losses that come with aging is easy, but the gifts are there, waiting for you as you enter that secret club. Look, they say, these are for you, unwrap the fancy, outer packaging, and see what lies inside. So, what have the gifts of aging been for me? ·        A clearer understanding of who I am. When you’re younger, a lot of society’s expectations are heaped upon you: Get an education, make a career for yourself, find a good husband, have children, run a household. In other words, do it all, and do it all well. And also, look marvelous while juggling these things, and be careful not to let yourself go. But, in those days (I’m talking about when I was young, not so much these days, when women are much more self-aware of the ridiculous demands placed on them), there was very little emphasis (none) on paying attention to yourself, because if you did, you were deeme

  SCARBOROUGH by CATHERINE HERNANDEZ. If you live in or around Toronto, you know of Scarborough. Hernandez’s novel is set here, amidst the pockets of poverty and diversity. Through the voices of both, children and adults, we see the daily lives and struggles that never make the news – until tragedy strikes. It’s through the eyes of the 3 children – Bing, Sylvie, Laura – we see the grittiness, the neglect, the racism that many still endure.   Hina Hassani, is the compassionate teacher who runs the literacy centre at the public school, beseeching her supervisor for supplies to fill the kids’ hungry tummies at breakfast. And yet, and yet…the reality is…kids fall through the cracks, while the authorities are focused on numbers and dollars. Hernandez give a voice to those who are used to not being heard. * In her memoir, HEARTBROKEN, Laura Pratt writes of her prolonged period (several years) of grief after her long-distance partner left her. Theirs was a heady, passionate, magical