Pr. George to Anchorage

dirt road never ending road tripAlaska. Bitterly cold. Never ending snow days. Never ending darkness. Of course, it was nearing summer time when we made the trip, so there was never ending daylight. Three (almost three), straight days of driving, or as the policeman said, “I thought this was a low flying aircraft.” In our favour, we were young, and pretty cute, so my friend got off with only a warning. We were headed to Anchorage, Alaska. Where the ratio of guys to gals was, and is, the highest in the country. This, according to one of Oprah’s guests.

Because you should never trust what you hear on television, it was up to us to make sure the statements were true. A road trip was in order. There was never any other reason for me to go to Alaska, seriously. Not at the age of twenty-four. My friend would suggest otherwise, whenever I made that statement. I thought it was funny, and definitely a unique vacation story.

So, off we went, in her little white car. There were a few, too many, long, dusty, slow moving, monotonous, seemingly never ending, stretches of dirt/ gravel road. We hit these on day two. Oprah never mentioned that! I have my photograph to prove it. Purple cotton capris, red tank top, scraggly hair, pulled up into some kind of half pony-tail. Eyelids straining to stay open. Facial expression is somewhere between, I’m so tired and I just want to go home, and, I can’t wait to see how many guys there are in Anchorage. So, onward we went.

What do I remember most from that trip? Whenever I blew my nose, over a two to three day period, there was dirt. There was dirt in places you would not imagine there to be dirt. My friend’s car was filled with a fine layer of, “Hi! My name is dirt, and I’m going to cover everything you own, even you. I will be relentless in my effort to stick around.”

Despite all of that, we did have some fun, we did meet some guys, we did some sight-seeing, and we got lots of pictures.

Daily Prompt

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In The Now

As a kid, dreaming about my future…now wait…I dreamt in the moment. In one moment I was an actress, another moment I was a ballerina, and another moment I was a champion swimmer, then a figure skater, or a pianist. I could go on, but, I don’t recall ever picking just one thing, or imagining my future. I was active, involved in lots of fun activities, and living them in the moment.

It wasn’t until high school that I gave it any real thought. Grade 12 biology, dissection, was when nursing came to mind. Although, I did cut hair, and thought hairdressing would be fun. I was encouraged to choose nursing, because financially, it was a better choice. A ‘career’ choice. So I went with that. If you’d like to know where that led to, check out; School Time Blues.

I suppose, all along I just wanted to be ‘me’. What I chose to do, was not who I was. Right now, I’m still searching, but, in the meantime, I am happy to just be ‘me’.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged!

Daily Prompt

Sinking Feeling

book beaded book mark readingIt’s been, a wonderful and chaotic, day; shopping bags litter the bedroom floor. The bed is unmade, I left in a hurry this morning. The closet doors stand open, spewing brightly, coloured clothing. There is no room for my boyfriend’s clothes anymore. I do wonder how he feels about that. Note to self; ask him. Two tea mugs, half full, , cold and overly-steeped, are perched precariously on the edge of the night table. An overstuffed, red, velvet chair sits empty; the only thing in the room that is. I use it for reading, when I can’t sleep. On occasion, I have woken up with drool running down my face, and a crook in my back, that takes more than a few hours to loosen it’s grip. At least I slept. A pile of books, old and new, sit on the floor to the right of the chair. One of my bags is full of used books, new to me, that I will add to the pile.

I spent an hour in the coffee shop, inhaling the words, of a new favourite book. I have many favourites. Reading fills nearly all my extra time. My great Uncle Wallin, spent lots of time at our house, when I was little. He would read, story after story to me. His love for books and reading, impacted my life, filled it with wonder, left a longing in me to know more. I remember how he loved to re-read a book, as many times as needed, to be sure I was satisfied. There was a book mark, jewelled in tiny bright colours, strung with gold threads. Uncle Wallin wrote some words on the back of it, before leaving it on a shelf in my room. Now, if it’s not in a book, I carry it with me, a little piece of his love, his crooked smile, his belly laugh, and the sound of his voice.

I should put it in one of the new books, ready for reading. I search through the finished book, the bag of books, then all the other bags, coming up empty. The contents of my purse are dumped on the floor, a lipstick rolling under the bed. The receipts, crumpled or folded, cover the rest. I push them aside, as I feel my heart beat a little faster. It’s time to panic. The process is repeated, this time lifting all the checked bags off the floor, and depositing them on the bed. Nothing. Was it the coffee shop? Was it one of the ten shops I was in today? There was no time to retrace my steps, but, I could call the coffee shop. I described with detail, the bookmark, and it’s meaning to me, hoping the girl that was listening on the other end, was paying attention. What? She was looking at it right now? The tears let loose, running down my cheeks, and leaving wet drops on my t-shirt. Someone had turned in the ratty, old, bookmark. I’m not sure if I would have done the same, wondering how something like that could be important. I’ve never thought about it in that sense before. Lesson learned.

When I stopped in to pick it up, I gratefully thanked the girl who looked after it for me, for saving a memory from an unknown fate. She listened, surprisingly intently, to my story of the bookmark. Maybe she had a similar story, the reason for keeping it safe.

Daily Prompt

 As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

I’m In The Dictionary

Ger-ber [jair-bear]

noun 

1. a type of hug, embrace, of the mind

verb (used with a human, or pet), ger-ber, ger-bered

2. to calm one’s thoughts with a mental embrace

adjective (describes a state of being)

3. a calmness, peacefulness

Origin

[of college origin]

Daily Prompt

My First Dependent

lynx point siamese tabby pet cat

I adopted a beautiful kitten, whom I named Quaker, after searching in encyclopaedias, (yes, it was that long ago), for a cool, and unusual name. Accomplished! My first pet, as a independent, working, woman. She grew up in my apartment, and therefore, was an inside kitty. Unfortunately, for all of my family, she became a cranky kitty, with an attitude. I never had a problem with her. She didn’t scare me.

In the corner of my living room, I had a ginormous dieffenbachia, (no joke), in a ginormous pot. A lipstick plant used to live at the bottom of the dieffenbachia, but, eventually died, leaving visible dirt. It did not matter what I used to deter the cat, she would stir up that dirt, making a mess on my carpet. Of course, this was done while I was at work. After several store-bought, trial runs with disincentives, and failing, I had one left to test. Some sort of twist-tie with a deterrent attached, was tied to the bottom stalk of the plant. When I came home from work, I found it chewed up, by the front door. Years later, someone told me I should have put large rocks at the base of the plant. Shoulda, woulda, coulda!

My friend would cat-sit for me, when I went away. Quaker would race around on her quilt, and put little picks in it. Needless to say, she was not very happy about that. I thank you, friend, from the bottom of my heart, for looking after my kitty.

lynx point siamese tabby cat pet

When we moved to North Vancouver, she went out in the backyard. She didn’t venture very far, as she was getting older, and was a bit sickly. Her weight increased, and she had bad arthritis. She was still cranky though, but, not to me, nor to repair men. A weird attraction to repair men, she had. Quaker was diagnosed with diabetes, so she went on a diabetic diet, and I had to test her blood, and give her insulin. Oh, joy. Her health was not improving, and one lady vet, suggested to the girl at the desk, that owners should not be overfeeding their pets. I should have, in no uncertain terms, given her my thoughts on that. However, at the time, I was completely taken aback, and had no response.

The next vet I took her to, was a naturopathic vet. She decided that Quaker was allergic to the diabetic diet. (Huge, sigh). I put her on the ‘raw food diet’, and within a week or two, she was off the insulin, and losing weight. Her arthritis improved quite a bit, but, her kidneys were getting the best of her. There was always a wet mess around the cat box.

lynx point siamese tabby cat pet with beagle coonhound dog

Quaker had new life in her, and she got another three years of a somewhat healthier life. She was happier, she lost all her extra weight, was more content, could fold her paws under, and didn’t sleep on her back anymore. Happier that is, until we adopted McKay. Notice how they are keeping a close eye on one another. They eventually got used to each other, but, were never good friends. McKay knew her place, Quaker was Queen.

Then comes my first experience, of taking a pet to be put down. She was hurting, and I could see that. Her litter box couldn’t keep up with her, as her kidneys were worsening; from the diabetes and such. I drove her to the naturopath, to have this done. She gave her an exam, and then told me that she would not do it. Quaker could take some pills and have a dramatic recovery. Honestly, I could have screamed, had I not been so emotional, and teary. I marched her off to the other vet; to my relief, they agreed with me, and they put her to sleep.

A gut-wrenching experience, that I know I will have to repeat at some point. In the end, Quaker looked so very peaceful, no more pain, and that made me happy. I know she keeps an eye on me, my beautiful girl.

Just a head’s up, for anyone wishing to get on my nerves: with years of experience under my belt, I will, in a calm, assertive manner, give you my thoughts.

As always, comments are welcomed, and encouraged.

I Chose This

abstract colour patternsA brilliant intelligence, with a psychotic focus. Anna, has successfully set up John, to take the blame for murder. No detail was ignored. She is gone now. They think she is dead. John murdered her. A postcard arrived, addressed to John, with roses, her touch.

This job can suck the life out of you. We are given up to fifteen years, then we must find something else to do, if we haven’t been chewed up and spit out. I’m new to this, two years, four months, two days, five hours, ten minutes, and counting. It has taken me only two years, to feel exhausted, like I’m wasting away, from the inside, out. I don’t know how John lasted ten. He is strong, able to separate, his from theirs, until now.

Sometimes my memories are jumbled, the details from someone else’s life, weaving their way inside my brain, infusing me with their sickness. Once colourful, now fading. Since John went to prison, I’ve taken a short leave, to regain some strength, to identify with my memories, to untangle the mess. I’m seven days in, and my mind is clearer. The windows have been wiped, but, streaks are left from the grimy fingers, of those tortured souls. A glimpse inside their memories, a rotting story unfolding before me. I can back out any time, put a stop to it, snap out of it, but, it’s my job.

My title is; Memory Detective. I’m here to help people learn from their memories; which are real, and which are not. I learn the true story behind the sickness. Some get better, with a deeper understanding of how, and why; where their behaviour stems from. Some get worse. Some have brilliant intelligence, like Anna.

I’m not afraid, I suppose, of what could happen, like with John. I’m afraid of losing my memories altogether. With nothing from my past, how do I move forward? How will I learn from my mistakes? How will I retain any happiness? How will I know what is real? For now, my focus, to wash those windows until they are no longer visible. Nothing in between.

I hang on to any memory that surfaces, keeping a journal, so they don’t get lost. Paragraphs, sentences, or just words, whatever shows up. The ones I’m after now, are long past, covered in a sweet haze. I write down only what I remember, not recreating to satisfy my thirst, for the whole story. The good, and the bad. They are all the makings, of me.

Feel free to leave a comment; good, bad, or ugly. Share if you like, I’m up for it!

Laptop, Shmaptop

After re-locating, a couple of years ago, we made a decision to not have cable. I was feeling pretty good about this in the beginning. You see, I can pretty much watch anything I want, on my laptop. I can even plug it into the T.V., to watch on the big screen. What was the point in paying big bucks, for a few T.V. stations. Right?

I began doubting the choice we made. I felt listless, nauseous, depressed, and teary. My guy and I, would talk through my emotions. (What a guy!) Needing to know why I was feeling this way, was important. It had begun to affect my guy. Not until I was visiting with family, and watching T.V., did I notice that my mood was improving. Whenever a commercial would play, I would not be able to tear my eyes away. The more I saw, and there are lots of them, the better I felt. This was amazing! It literally, took one afternoon to wash away the blues, that had begun consuming me.

Old-Style-Retro-TV-Icon-L

Here’s what I learned.

Using a laptop to watch anything:

  • is a constant strain on the back, from leaning forward to hit the space bar, in order to pause
  • there are no breaks
  • you must pause, prior to a bathroom break
  • you must pause, prior to a snack break
  • you must pause, to share any comments
  • you must google, to learn anything new
  • you must type into the search bar, what you want to watch
  • overall a huge energy drain

Watching T.V.:

  • you are comfortable at all times, no straining
  • there are built-in breaks; you are able to prepare ahead, due to the regular intervals
  • time to use the washroom
  • time to make a snack
  • time to share comments
  • no need for any typing
  • massive amounts of learning potential from commercials; you can believe every word
  • no need for a grocery list; a commercial will be repeated several times, therefore, easy to remember
  • the volume is much louder than the show; everyone can hear

In fact, I even found myself taking my breaks during the show, and sitting down to enjoy the commercials. It would almost be better to have constant commercials…maybe not, I wouldn’t get anything else done.

I am all for spending the big bucks now, as it’s for my health!

Brought to you from, Daily Prompt! Many more where that came from!