Posted on November 26, 2018 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

 

“My trip to India was serendipitous and the book you are about to read is a chronicle of the events I witnessed, the people I met, the places I visited, and, most importantly, the stories of the amazing people of India, who have forever changed my life and my perspective of the world in which we live.”

I am pleased to announce the birth of my fourth child. I have no idea what labour pains are like and won’t dare risk the wrath of offending mothers out there, but the birth of a book is both painful and joyous. Actually, it’s more like relief which one can only imagine is one of the things the mother of a newborn feels to go along with the joy.

Two years ago in late October, I got on a plane and flew to India. As the above noticed passage from the preface of my new book “Chaos and Wonder: Six Months in India”, indicates, it was indeed a life altering experience. Now, I get to share it with you. My book is now available on line. I’ll have a link on my website soon but if you want to order right now, here’s where to go:  “.https://www.amazon.ca/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=chaos+and+wonder%3A+six+months+in+India So, whether you’re in Sydney, Nova Scotia, Sydney, Australia, or Sidney, B.C., you’ll be able to order my book and have it shipped to your door before Christmas.

For those of you living in Antigonish and surrounding area, the book will be on sale very soon at the Antigonish 5 to $1.00. If you want a book autographed, come to my book launch at People’s Place Library on Tuesday, December 18^th at 7:00 p.m. Tentatively, I will also be at the 5 to $1.00 on the evenings of December 19^th and 20^th to sign books.

I am quite pleased with the finished product and hope that you will enjoy it.

Oh, the book sells for $ 14.99 (Cdn)

I was thrilled to receive the first submission to the newest feature on my website called “Guest of Honour” where you get to submit a funny story and have it shared with millions of readers. Would you believe 2,000?! I absolutely loved “Hair to Dye For”. Scroll to the bottom of my homepage if you missed it.

Passings.

I note with sadness the passing of two extraordinary people. Jack and Judy O’Donnell have left an indelible mark on our community and beyond. Their many accomplishments have been noted elsewhere but I think the work they did to transform the lives of persons with disabilities will be their lasting legacy. The rich, full lives of those with intellectual challenges in Antigonish are a testament to the efforts of many people but one would be hard pressed to identify a couple who contributed as much as Jack and Judy. They were lovely, kind and compassionate people.

On Sunday December 2^nd, there is an event honouring Jack and Judy:  “Celebration of Life: Remembering Jack and Judy through Story and Song”. It will be held at St. Ninian’s Cathedral beginning at 7:00 p.m. It should be a wonderful evening.

Finally, please consider supporting the “Lights of Love” campaign at the R.K. MacDonald Nursing Home. Money raised this year will go towards a Therapeutic Bath System. To donate, follow this link: https://www.rkmacdonald.ca/lights-of-love/

Have a great week.

 

Posted on November 22, 2018 under Storytelling with 2 comments

(This story was contributed (anonymously) by one of my loyal readers- my first Guest of Honour submission.)

There are times when you just have to leave vanity at the door.

In my early twenties, I was shocked to discover wee strands of hair that did not match my normal colour. Yes, shocked and not one bit pleased. I tried to hide these annoying strands by wearing braids, ponytails, and fancy updos. And plucking. In my late twenties, I broke down and purchased hair dye. The process was no easy task for someone who had hair almost to her waist. This ritual went on for a couple of years until finally I made the decision to shorten my hair and ask a professional to colour it.

I want to say that I have one of the most trusted and excellent hairdressers. She is funny, offers me treats and is the perfect listener, three traits that would endear her to even the most discerning customer. She offers suggestions for styling and can cut and style with accuracy and confidence. We are good friends and share common interests.

Well, there are times when things don’t go exactly as planned.

One day, after she put the colour in my hair, I sat in a nearby chair to wait for the magic to work. Things were progressing normally. We chatted, told a few stories and shared a few recipes. About fifteen minutes before the timer sounded, the lights flickered a few times then finally went out completely. I was fine until I noticed the shocked look on my stylist’s face. She announced that she could not rinse my hair as the outage had affected the water pump.

Well, weren’t we in a fine pickle? Initially I thought she was kidding about the inability to rinse my hair. When her face shifted from humour to panic, I knew she was concerned. We both looked at each other with an expression that said, “Well, what in the hell do we do now?”

She said that I did not have much time and that I must hurry home immediately and rinse it out myself. She handed me a clear plastic shower cap to cover the wet mop on top of my head. I put it on and if I must admit, I was a sight for sore eyes. Another wave of panic washed over me as I considered the drive home some fifteen minutes away. The critical path would take me down Main Street. With vanity rapidly coming to the surface, I requested a baseball cap as a clever disguise. In my attempt to affix the lid to my head, I punctured the shower cap. The wet mass underneath erupted. The Three Stooges couldn’t have pulled this off better than I did.

The clock was ticking.

I raced towards my car and as I reached the door, a gust of wind came out of nowhere and blew the cap off my head. The cap could have gone anywhere but when fate intervenes, all bets are off. I looked left and I looked right. I looked high and low and sure enough, there it was sitting harmlessly under the car. I got down on my knees to retrieve the offending object. As I started to get up, a second blast of wind ripped it out of my hands. Any passerby may well have heard expletives. The cap rolled gracefully to the other side of the car. I grabbed it, more forcefully this time and got in my vehicle.

I was about to adjust the front mirror above the dash but chose otherwise. I was too afraid to see how I looked. I hummed a few bars of the popular Carly Simon hit, “You’re so Vain”.

I commenced the journey home. Inching along Main Street, I encountered a Power Corporation truck coming in the opposite direction. I lowered my window and flagged him down, asking him when the power might be restored. If the fix was imminent, I would just turn around and go back to the hairdressing shop. As I looked up into the cab of the truck, I saw a familiar face. In a million years I did not expect the driver to know me. It was my cousin. My clever disguise had failed as he immediately recognized me.

He rolled down his window. The look on his face was priceless. He broke into hysterics. At one point, his body tilted noticeably to the right. He lay across the seat, laughter emanating from the depths of his belly. He came up, gasping for air. Well, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. His laughter was infectious.

When we had both composed ourselves, he informed me that the power would not be restored for at least a few hours. Apparently a tree had fallen about a mile away, knocking down power lines and preventing traffic from moving forward as it landed in the middle of the road. When I found out that this tree had fallen on the road leading to my house, I could feel my heart palpitate.

I had no choice but to continue along my way. Not surprisingly, I was stopped by a flagman. I was the first vehicle in the lineup. I put the car in park and flipped on the radio. My head alternately bobbed up and down. I didn’t want to face the flagman but I was forced to look his way to eventually get the all clear signal. A flagman’s job is usually filled with boredom but on this day, the young fella had a good laugh at my expense.

After twenty minutes he motioned me to proceed. I could only imagine the discussion around his dinner table that evening!

I finally made it home. I ran up the steps and made a beeline for the kitchen sink and who was standing there but my husband. No words were exchanged. I gave him a threatening look that a smile, a chuckle or a single word would be met with retribution.

“Get me a towel. I’ll explain later.”

I stood over the sink and started applying water, praying that I hadn’t cooked my hair.

I remembered the popular television commercial airing in those days.

“I’m gonna wash that gray right outta my hair.”

Posted on November 19, 2018 under Monday Morning Musings with one comment

A mountain of dishes

 

So many mysteries with no solutions.

Let’s start with Tupperware. As some point in life’s journey most of us has bought Tupperware.They’re convenient, great for storing leftovers and they come in all kinds of convenient shapes and sizes. They also come with lids, one per container – at least that’s what we think. After about a month, something very odd happens. It’s like the play I saw on the weekend called “Metamorphoses”.  Something changes. All of a sudden, you can’t locate the lid for one of the containers. You wash them after every use and put them in the same drawer so that they’re easy to find. Where in the hell do those lids go?

Something similar happens with the laundry. You buy a new batch of socks… different colors. You wear them, they become soiled, and you put them in the laundry hamper. After a week, it’s time to do the laundry. You empty the contents of the hamper, place everything in the wash machine followed by the dryer. You empty the dryer and go to your bedroom to fold and sort things when they’re still warm. I usually leave the socks to the last. Invariably, there’s one sock missing or even worse, one of each color gone awry. Even Jessica Fletcher and Sherlock Holmes together can’t solve this one.

Which leads me to the picture of the dishes stacked up in the dish drainer shown above. When our four children were all still at home, we had a dishwasher. There were mountains of dishes which is not hard to comprehend. But it didn’t take any time to make them disappear into the confines of the dishwasher. But every so often, this kitchen aid would go on the fritz and our kitchen counters would be piled sky high until they were dispatched the old fashioned way – by hand.

These days, we occupy a small apartment and there’s just the two of us – three when our granddaughter visits, usually on the weekend. But during the week, my wife works and doesn’t come home at lunch hour. I don’t sit around all day and eat, if that’s what you’re thinking. But really, how can a couple manage to amass this many dishes in just one day? They just seem to have a way to multiply. I am befuddled but that’s nothing new.

Tupperware lids, matching socks and mountains of dishes – three of life’s great mysteries.

My fourth book, “Chaos and Wonder: Six Months in India” is on its way to the printers. I will have hard copies for sale locally in Antigonish by mid- December and for those of you out of town, pretty well everywhere in the universe. You’ll be able to order the book on line though Amazon and have it delivered to your door. I’ll let you know when that’s up and running.

Last week, I was having coffee with a friend, literally an hour after submitting the final manuscript for my book. I was mentally beat and just about ready to throw the entire 173 pages into the Brierly Brook praying it would get passed along quickly to the harbour and eventually out to the ocean. I have spoken with other authors who have also experienced this feeling of loathing at the end of the writing and editing process. So when my friend suggested an idea for my next book, I recoiled. That would be like passing a bottle of tequila to someone the morning after doing 20 shots of this Mexican rocket fuel  with lemon and salt.

After absorbing the initial blow, I listened as she told me her idea: write a book about growing up in the sixties and break the book up into neighborhoods. Now obviously, this book would have limited appeal to anyone outside Antigonish but when you look at the large families from that era, it could be a best seller. But sales would not be the motivation. The idea would be to gather stories from people who lived a shared experience in different parts of the town and county. You could have stories from the Hawthorne/Heights crew; Hillcrest Street; Highland Drive, Brookland and the interval, Greenwold etc. And of course, the same thing would be done in the county gathering tales from Pomquet, Arisaig, James River, Pinevale etc.

It seems to a lot of us that neighborhoods today are nothing like those in the sixties. Part of that is sheer numbers. We spent a lot of time outdoors after school and in the summer because there wasn’t enough room indoors! This book would really be more about capturing a moment in time that we could share with our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. I mean, don’t you think they’d like to hear how we gathered in the field behind  Lane Hall (before it was Lane hall) at the end of the school year to burn all our scribblers, projects and the odd book?

What do you think? Would you contribute stories? You could get together with some of your old neighborhood friends and share stories and the odd lie.

I have received the first submission for a story for a new column called “Guest of Honour”. In case you missed it, I’m asking YOU to be a guest writer on my website. Send me a funny story (around 500 words) and I’ll publish it.

Excuse me. I have a pile of dishes to wash.

Have a great week.