The final post to signify the end of my blog…

(cue Adele’s “Someone Like You”)

This won’t be my last post mind you. Geez…what’s with the pouty lips?!?! 🙂

(needle scrape)

At least I hope not…I just started blogging this month and have much to learn and find it all exciting. However, in my time here have already come across several very popular bloggers with now defunct blogs. For example, shout out to Maddie at for pointing out who is/was very entertaining and it made me wonder…

Should a blogger post a farewell statement? Should they explain why they’re no longer posting or just “exit…stage left” into obscurity? Would you feel cheated if one of your favorites didn’t explain the abandonment?

Thoughts? Please share in the comments.

As for me I have no book to sell, website to promote, or even a game plan for the blog (such a loser!)…I’m just here to hopefully engage you dear reader and learn, observe, and live vicariously. Which I suppose is what we’re all doing to some extent.

When it is time for me to end this blog (no it’s not RELISH it’s PERISH the thought!) I think I may simply put in the title:

“Goodbye cruel circus…I’m off to join the world”

Kindness acts of random…

I sincerely want to thank you all for continuing to read, commenting and following. You’re awesome!

Every time I’m quizzically looking at the WP Dashboard trying to understand all the features (and noticing there are still no viewers from Estonia…?)  and I see the comment notification light up…my heart pitter patters faster than Governor Rob Ford’s whilst annihilating an 8-ball (allegedly).

Speaking of random (heads up for the segue!) I’ve noticed an acquaintance of mine has started pronouncing the word “especially” as “exspecially”.

That mispronunciation  makes my ears perk up and everything they say after that just sort of gets suspended in a figurative Jell-O mold as I contemplate the etymology of the word “exspecially”.

Professor Graham R. Knottsee: “This pronunciation was first introduced when, as a child, the subject was so taken with Mary Poppins’ “Supercalifragilisticexspialidocious” that she began interjecting random fragments of the word into her everyday conversation. In addtion to exspecially, we also have observed the subject saying things such as ‘That shipment of fine china is fragilistic and should be treated as such.’ The shock therapy, although effective, has not completely removed all of the subject’s grammatical shortcomings as detailed in my previous treatise reviewed during last week’s lecture.”

Along those lines…I really try to be thorough when reviewing my posts prior to publishing but I still go back and reread weeks later and…cringe…there’s a misspelling or a better way to phrase a thought.

The fnnuy tihng aubot mssiplliengs is taht as lnog as the frist and lsat ltteers of wrods whit 3+ carteharcs are crrocet…msot can slitl raed tehm.

Do you ever hear things being mispronounced by others? Do you correct the (possibly innocent) person responsible for the mispronunciation? Ignore it and move on? Report them to the authorities and hope they get some TSA worthy interrogation?

Please share in the comments!

On the sudden loss of a loved one (Part Two)

I lost someone very close to me and stopped blogging for a few days. It didn’t seem appropriate.

Just being present for all those around me became my goal.

Errands needed to be run. Phone calls needed to be made. The mundane acts of taking out the garbage, washing dishes and house cleaning became paramount. Taking unneeded clothing and other items to Goodwill…dreadful and cathartic.

The sound of children laughing a needed reprieve from sounds of gut wrenching gasps interjected between sorrowful moans from another who, try as I might, can not be consoled. I just pull her closer in my arms.

The very stark reminder that nothing lasts forever and that we all have precious little time to accomplish all the things our hearts and minds are compelled to dream about or finally get around to those often reviewed bucket list items. Friendships and even acquaintances new and old are given bold and underlined emphasis.

The world moves slower and at times grinds to a halt. Time itself is in question as days run together and hours become days.

Echoes of unspoken words and recaps of missed opportunities are replayed on a continuous reel in the minds of all those who knew the deceased.

On the sudden loss of a loved one

Unexpected phone calls in the very early morning have a distinctive ring.

You know but don’t want to know. You speak when there are no words. Strained relationships take a hiatus. A bitter truce is called. Awkward silence is ignored. Everyone bears the brunt and does their part to shoulder the burden. Memories flash as sporadically as children climbing the jungle gym on a playground. Plans for the future clash with past regrets.

Faith is strengthened, questioned and tested.

Conversation is surface level. The truth is final.

Nothing lasts as long as these memories.

Hi stranger. Let’s go for a ride in my car. Don’t be scared…I have candy…

I knew that title would get your attention. Let’s talk commutes. Got one? I have a 2 hour daily round trip commute. I know this is not the longest nor the shortest commute I’ve ever heard of some unfortunate souls enduring but thats 10 hours a week or something like 400 – 500 hours a year. Sick/Holiday/Vacation days assumed in that rough estimate. Vacation…now there’s a concept. Sigh.

Commuting is a humbling, thrilling, sometimes hilarious event. I can be compelled to love or hate people just by visually assessing their cars/clothes/mannerisms in a matter of seconds. It’s profiling at it’s best. I look around and there’s a hot soccer mom in a Chevy Tahoe in one lane, a priest in a Ford Taurus in another lane getting pressured by a young gun revving his Camaro SS, an OCD maniac who can’t stop tapping the brake pedal to save his life in his Hyundai Elantra directly in front of me!

Then there’s the far left HOV lane intended for multiple occupants in vehicles purportedly to lessen the traffic congestion. However, the ratio is probably 5 to 1 of the people who AREN’T actually abiding by the law and have exactly 1 occupant (I may or may not be guilty). Sometimes local law enforcement will make it a habit to ticket the offenders but guess what…by the time they slow the offenders down and move them across several lanes to the shoulder of the road they’ve significantly slowed the progress of the rest of the commuters. It’s a cluster.

But then I imagine we all probably pretend it’s the old west and the outlaws within us ruled the highways. That way I would be perfectly justified to just bide my time and wait until the asshole on the Ducati sped into the lane to my left and then I’d fling my driver’s door open and send him flying. Then I’d be free to open fire on the HOV lane offenders who were definitely NOT HOV positive.

Honking reloading

Ahh but you know it’s all just about finding common ground in the human experience of all attempting to get along I suppose. Some definitely make it much easier like letting those in front of them merge onto the interstate without a hassle. Others will waste their breath screaming at the top of their lungs at the other driver in the same situation and would rather swap paint and potentially their commute for eternal rest  just to prove they have “the right of way!!!!”. (I may or may not be guilty).

The left lane liberals, the right lane righteous, the middle lane moderates, the rogue independents on the Ducatis.  I guess we all fit in one or more of those groups given the hour, day or week we’re having regardless of mode of transportation.

The bumper stickers keep me amused. The most perplexing and humorous so far has been (I mean who would even think to make this a bumper sticker?):

fat people

Have you got any favorites? Please share.

Silent Partner

Doodle head

You never speak a word yet are able to explain one of life’s biggest lessons: unconditional love.

You never take me for granted and when I need you…always oblige. I keep you in my side view mirrors. Watching you smile with your face in the wind. All those sights and smells may be sensory overload but you are incapable of not relishing every moment. I still think with relative certainty that everytime the wind presses against your jowels and ears that you must pretend to fly.

There’s an old Ojibway folktale that explains the bond between dog and man was created due to a great earthquake seperating the first man and woman on earth.  And while all the other animals may have scattered fearfully in all directions, only the dog lept across the chasm to stand side by side with the man. The leap of faith I took was bringing you home from the pet drive where we found you emaciated and in need of veterinary help. We fed you and cared for you and ,of course, we spoiled you. By the time you regained your strength our bond was permanent. You also sought me out for an occasional nap on the sofa at the end of a long day as well as made certain I was comforted when recovering from illness.

Never to be apart again for very long, when we do reunite the response is always the same…heart melting. When the time comes to travel together, you bound down the stairs and in to the back seat of the car. No doubt you wonder where we’re headed on these long trips and a few of the ones we regularly repeat you memorized the sites, sounds and smells and even the rhythm of the wheels. You have to think it is crazy to spend so much time trapped in such a confined space instead of stretching your legs in a wide open field of tall grass with the trajectory of a tennis ball in your peripheral view like it is a career making hail mary pass to a freshman receiver. You always run until you can run no more.

Not to say you are mute. Far from it.

Like that night a trespasser tested the front door handle and latch of our house from the outside…it was your call to arms that prepared us. Whenever the neighbors’ children need entertainment you are eagerly the center of attention and use your playful bark to excite and tease them. Conversely, whenever you hear your master’s voice on a long distance call home your whimpering responses are enough to warm the iciest of cold and calloused hearts. You also employ this technique whenever there are savory table scraps to be had. No one can resist the temptation to scratch your head and spoil you…even the ones who think no one else is looking.

Silent Partner? Yes and no I suppose. But you never take a back seat in our hearts and minds.

New Year’s Resolution Revelation

You know who we’re talking about…

That person you talk to who isn’t physically there but never leaves. Not one of your constant disembodied, internal voices but that human being you can remember they’re scent and  at times  they feel close enough to touch.

You know who we’re talking about. It’s the person who let you down or the person you wish had stayed longer or even the person you wish you had never encountered. I see you standing in front of the mirror lost in the necessity of your daily routines pausing momentarily to reflect and rehearse in your mind the events that, honestly, could happen tomorrow leading you directly to an inescapable confrontation with that person.

You know who we’re talking about. Did the thought of them make you lose your breath? Did your body get tense? What story would the other person’s face tell? Would they be sullen? Startled? Indifferent? Regardless, would your cheeks go flush? Would your heart rate increase? Would you speak first or wait for them to address you or just divert your eyes and pretend not to see them?

You know who we’re talking about. How often do you think they’ve considered the same scenario? Or are they forever aloof, disrespectful, or even mocking in your version of them? Do you think they’ve remained bitter, missed the good times you shared or altogether forgotten the events that resulted to the end of your relationship?  Or even wonder what might have been?

You know who we’re talking about. You say their name with an involuntary need to explain to them what you really meant to say all those days, months, and years ago.  How different would your tone of voice be? Would the pitch be higher, lower? The volume : louder, softer?

You know who we’re talking about. Did they even hear what you said or just filtered the words from your mouth that they wanted to hear. Did they even give you a chance to explain? Did you threaten you’d leave them knowing you’d regret it the moment the cab arrived but you did it anyway? Did you beg them to stay and promise to change yourself and fix all that had been broken knowing there was little to no chance it would work? Did they take more than they gave? Did you?

You’re not even certain you’ll ever completely reconcile all those  memories. Whose responsibility is it at this point? Would you mourn their loss? Would you empathize with their pain? Do you play back every memory like movies on a flickering tape movie reel? How many nights did they keep you awake? How mornings did they wake you up? How many times do seemingly unrelated events transport you to the precise moment and time of the greatest scenes of your rise and fall? Could it all have been resolved in one long distance phone call? Or a handwritten letter?

You know who we’re talking about…shouldn’t they?