TINY BUBBLES

My electronic journal found some bizarre inspiration this morning. 

It was when the vinyl record player that is my mind kept hearing the classic 1966 Don Ho lounge lizard tune: Tiny Bubbles . (The song title is a link for those that have yet to have the pleasure.)

Now I'm sure we can all agree my chosen isn't a festive holiday tune, nor a track that plays into the whole 'reason for the season' vibe. Let's face it, as we crawl toward the end of a year so annoying it continually tripped over itself (twenty-twenty), a song about tiny bubbles within a lockdown mandate shouldn't be considered unfathomable.

My tiny bubble. Featuring my amazing Fab Five!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2020

Now, not being one to pet a cat backward just to prove I can, nor jump off the bridge downtown simply because I live in a town that has one with a cool brace over it, I would like to disclose that  months ago I decided to invested in understanding why we were being asked to live in a 'bubble' and what it actually meant. 

As a result, since being told to 'assume the position', I have not waivered from the general directive. All guidelines have been respected. All internet trolls looking to stir shit for the sake of having their voice amplified when they normally wouldn't, were heard.

At the end of the day, it's really hard to believe that it has been over nine months since everything became so hateful and unnecessarily divided. Even amongst my bubble featured here, we have agreed to disagree - leaving certain subjects abandoned and all opinions respected on every occasion.

One subject never abandoned? My obsession with taking their picture.

As a mother, I've I known for many years they hate posing and having me take their photo. I know they don't really want me to, yet cordially comply because they understand (in the end) it may be extremely important... To someone else. 

Thus making my photo taking philosophy the perfect mantra for what will make 2021 tolerable for all. 

In a nutshell? Take the high road and always play nice. 

Just like those in my tiny bubble do every time an impromptu photo op awkwardly presents itself!

DINING AL FRESCO

In the midst of purchasing our current home, the lawyer called the day it was to close to let us know that the old shed in the backyard was encroaching on the neighbouring lot line. His professional opinion was that we should make the sellers move it. 

Being the superstar handyman my husband naturally boasts being, he instructed the deal to close announcing that he would gladly relocate the shed. Pictured in the photo background, I don’t think he’s opened the door since he moved our crap into it and that was almost twenty years ago!

Anyway, when my father stayed with us in his end of life hospice care the winter of 2005, he was quick to establish friendships with the local fauna including these photogenic furry tailed bandits. 

During his last housebound winter, he introduced an outdoor dining experience like no other - and by the time he left us that June, his newly established extended family understood what a glorious food source this happy go lucky chap turned out to be.

One of my many generations of  friends born the spring of 2020.
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 2020

Once I'd passed that mournful summer without my dad, I noticed not very many of his furry friends remained come autumn. The ones that did escape the owls and foxes were a small family of grey squirrels and they had build a beautiful drey for themselves high up in our back gully. Fifteen seasons later I have fed and nurtured many generations, and all have offered me great memories and wonderful friendships from a distance. 

Now back to the shed that was never moved but still needs to be... Each and every spring I  open its door to see what our six months of winter hath delivered. 

Not because there is anything in there worth salvaging but because I know in spring when others awake with a hungry belly, that ugly brown shed offers one of several escape locations of trust, offering quick easy ground access for all of my dining friends.

I don't think of it as a 'members only' condo unit per se, more an exclusive diners club that offers a covered option should it be raining when I ring that afternoon dinner bell.

...Signifying their dining al fresco restaurant is officially open for service!

ELBOW BUMP BLUES

This past weekend we had our very first 2020 visitors out to the cottage. Relax, they're a part of our inner circle of ten as it was my son Jukebox and his very lovable and quick witted girlfriend. 

They arrived just in time for lunch on Saturday. We spent a quiet day. Enjoyed a nice bonfire, then a hearty breakfast before they had to head back into town so she could work a Sunday afternoon shift.

It wasn't until they went to head up the hill that I realized how much my behaviours have changed, as I backed away and told them I didn't want a hug.  

In lieu, they both got double elbow bumps!

I love this photo. She is clearly matching his wit and he knows it!
TAKEN: June 27th, 2020

When Covid-19 first hit, I was deemed an essential worker and continued my modified Monday to Friday routine. Our leadership team immediately put a policy in place that you had to meet certain criteria before you could enter our office. 

If you did get to enter, you were made to stay on the mat inside the office door. 

As shaking hands was no longer an option, I would offer a quick a curtsy as my standard greeting. In turn, most men would bow to reciprocate and we'd have a wee chuckle.

It has only been since phase II came into effect that I gradually introduced the elbow bump. If you're near and dear to me, I'll shrug, pump, then roll my shoulders prior to offering my elbow just so the recipient knows there's a little extra special intent coming their way. (Guess you could say it was the closest thing to a hug I could create.)

Not gonna lie, I am so over this entire pandemic/plandemic thing, yet I'm not going to debate either side of that double sided coin, seems to just fuel the base of either opinion; which isn't the intent of my post.

What I will admit is that I miss the simple things we took for granted. Silly things, like chatting it up in the coffee aisle of the grocery store or letting my pups have a play date. But most of all I am going to miss travelling, so much so that I try not to even think about the next twelve months and what they may look like.

As I prepare to take a Canada Day cottage stretch staycation, I can't help but reflect on how ill I was in January and how I'm reading that if I did in fact have Covid-19, the antibodies from having the virus don't last long term. 

...Go figure.

Guess that right there is just another great big middle finger moment 2020 wanted to generously send my way! #yagottalaughaboutit

U IS FOR UNAPOLOGETIC

S IS FOR SWEETIE

My Sweetie and me enjoying a Cafe de Monde beignets in the French Quarter, NOLA.
TAKEN: MAY 30th, 2019

It was five years ago this week that my Sweetie moved home from Calgary. It pains me to remember just how emotionally spent and somewhat broken she was when we picked her up at the airport. 

She’d invested her trust and love to a person that was not only mentally unstable but extremely abusive. As silly as this may read, as a mother, the first telltale sign for me how lost she was, was that she’d dyed her beautiful long curly hair jet black.

Five years later, she's working hard at a full time job, made some exciting new friendships, not to mention nurtured and re-established solid friendships she’d left behind. More importantly, she's finally let certain people go. Those that have ultimately lied and betrayed her over and over again.

So many things come to mind for me when I look at the picture but first and foremost it tells me just how far my daughter has come. The quite, teary mouse, that returned home, has now reverted in the firecracker we know and love. 

Though there are (and probably always will be) scars, I think she realizes that her future is much brighter than the darkness that surrounded us five years ago.

M IS FOR MY MOM

My mother, whom lived from 1930-1987
TAKEN: JULY 1947

This is my Mom.

If you haven’t met her via a previous post, allow me to introduce you to my mother Inez.

She was 17 years old when this photo was taken and the only one I own that was taken before she was married.

Though I have very few pictures of her, that doesn't mean that all of my life long memories aren't vivid, colourful, and still very much alive.

She was a fighter.

She won most every battle she set her mind to, but sadly she eventually lost the war. She passed in 1987 of ALS (more commonly known to the masses as Lou Gehrig's Disease).

I love and miss her very much.

C IS FOR CANADA

I will always be proud and free. With an amazing sense of humour!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 2016

If your local Dairy Queen is closed from September through May, you may live in Canada...

If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don't work there, you may live in Canada .. 

If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you may live in Canada . 

If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation With someone who dialed a wrong number, you may live in Canada . 

If 'Vacation' means going anywhere South of Detroit for the weekend, you may live in Canada . 

If you measure distance in hours, you may live in Canada . 

If you know several people who have hit a deer more than once, 

You may live in Canada . 

If you have switched from 'heat' to 'A/C' in the same day and back again, You may live in Canada . 

If you can drive 90 km/hr through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching, you may live in Canada . 

If you install security lights on your house and garage but leave both unlocked, you may live in Canada .

If you carry jumper cables in your car and your wife knows how to use them, you may live in Canada 

If you design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you may live in Canada . 

If the speed limit on the highway is 80 km -- you're going 95 and everybody is passing you, you may live in Canada . 

If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you may live in Canada . 

If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter, and road construction, you may live in Canada . 

If you have more miles on your snow blower than your car, you may live in Canada . 

If you find -2 degrees 'a little chilly', you may live in Canada . 

If you actually understand these jokes, you definitely are Canadian and proud to be.

I’M AN IDIOT!

In my everyday life, I feel I have an abundance of amazing acquaintances, and a rather small group of very tightly knit confidantes. Two of the latter are former colleagues that I worked with for a decade, which began close to thirty years ago.

All these years later, I swear we will be racing our wheelchairs down the hallway of the only nursing home that will admit us as a trouble making trio in our twilight years. One I speak to every day, the other I speak to sporadically but when we do connect it’s always as if time’s stood still. I unconditionally trust them both.

Today, on my regular carpool call to Smartie, I disclosed I’d accidentally stood up our mutual friend (that I haven't seen face to face in a couple of years) for lunch. He assured me that he’d understand, yet I still felt like a big bag of poo. In an effort to cheer me up, he decided to reminisce about the time they’d participated in management sensitivity training together.

The task at hand was to turn to their partner and pay them a compliment. Smartie recalled the other had a female coworker (and close friend) that he was to compliment, to which he turned and with a straight face nodded declaring, “nice tits!”

My car instantly filled with laughter and I could see the look on everyone’s face as this infamous character once again brought down the house with his timing and general off colour wit. 

"Man, I’m mad at myself for missing lunch," I whined. 

Then Smartie reminded me that a true friend overlooks your failures. So, because today was an epic fail, when I got home I took an end of the day selfie simply to remind him what I look like.

That said, being apart doesn’t change the fact that we've recognize that for years we'd always keep in touch. I suspect that and our keen senses of humour and love of sarcasm are why our roots will always run so deep.

....And that I know I'm a fecking idiot for standing him up!

Snapped an end of day selfie so the lunch date (that I haven't seen in two years)
could remember what his idiot friend named Rhondi looks like!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 14th, 2019

LOCKING 'ME' UP!

It’s that time of year again, when I endlessly search for enough time to get done what's expected of me.

For example, when my daughter asked me to forward her pics from our recent trip to New Orleans, it took me onward of a month to find the time to get around to doing it. 

Anyway, as I perused the hundreds of photos I'd taken, I ultimately became fixated on a series of one in particular, which I'd snapped at a city wharf along the Mississippi River. 

Though I am pleased to report that I managed to send my daughter a few dozen really great photos, the LOVE WINS one I am sharing today lingered in the forefront of my thoughts for the few days that followed. 

Not having any understanding of the symbolism it portrayed, my architect friend Darin sent me a Google link explaining that sweethearts' typically inscribed names & dates on a padlock, and its key's thrown away (often into the nearby river) to symbolize their unbreakable love.

Like most people I know, I have felt & nurtured a number of great loves in my life. Some are now associated more with loss, but for the most part I feel the majority of my life I’ve had an open heart & given generously.

Over my coffee at the cottage Sunday morning, I messaged another electronic friend explaining how my photo had further inspired me. Which ultimately had me search the cupboards for a lock with a key & a permanent marker.

When I shared my second photo with him, I explained that I had effortlessly penned my thoughts on my lock, then threw the key as hard as I could off the end of the dock; realizing only after the fact that I had missed the critically important step of linking it to a chain-link fence!

The impact I felt at the Toulouse Street Wharf (NOLA), truly followed me home to Canada.

TAKEN: MAY 30th, 2019 

& JUNE 23rd, 2019

Not to throw baby out with bath water, I decided to bring the lock home and strategically place it on the desk in my home office. Primarily, as a constant reminder that the most important relationship I will ever be in, is the one I am in with myself. 

As you can imagine, it’s taken me decades to be in a place where no matter where life takes me, or whom crosses my path, I truly believe that everything will always work out for the best. That said, I feel I should ask the obvious question....You know that there's nothing wrong with loving & putting yourself first, right? 

If you struggle with the concept, think of it this way.

You're the one person you'll spend the majority of your lifetime with. Why wouldn’t you want to ensure you're always surrounded by the very best possible company?!

Which brings me full circle to my very long winded point, which is to do yourself a favour and make yourself a priority.

Trust me. My life experience is that no one else is ever going to do it for you!!

H IS FOR HEARTFELT

My 2019 April A-Z Blogging Challenge posts will primarily consist of words and corresponding quotes.
(...With the odd opinionated electronic journal entry inserted to keep you on your toes.) 

MY UNEXPECTED VISIT

I came home from work last night & climbed straight into bed. So weak with fever that I never bothered getting out of my dress clothes.

I just plopped my snotty self under the covers in an effort to achieve a level of complete relaxation that would ultimately lead to the comatose state I’d been craving all day. Those two hours of deep sleep were heavenly.

When I finally woke up, I managed to haul my ass out of bed long enough to get my jammies on, yet by 8pm I had called it a night. When my alarm went off at 5am, I text my boss and went back to sleep for another four hours. It was in those four hours that something extraordinary happened: I dreamt of my Dad.

Words can't accurately describe how glowing & vivid my dream was. I could actually hear his voice. I recognized the clothing he was wearing and navigated his surroundings like I was actually there. The scenario was as if he'd never spent is last months in hospice with me, rather been placed in a home for palliative care.

Though it was a sunny spring day outside, I was anxious when I was dreaming because his level of care was not what I thought he was entitled to. When I awoke (after what felt like spending the day with him) I was in the midst of dreaming that I was trying to locate my cellphone in his room; which was actually my cellphone signalling me notifications that my boss needed my assistance with something at the office. Just like that, our visit was over.

As I greeted my day still groggy, I realized it was just my fever breaking. Yet, because we had such a vivid visit today, as I sat at the computer sneezing like a poltergeist throughout the day, it felt like he was there with me. 

You see, once I'd get my snot & sneezing outbreaks under control, I'd sit quietly and listen for my Dad to acknowledge me with a kleenex box and his standard… ‘Gesundheit!

Fever breaking or just a silly dream, I love that my mind had us enjoy today together. 

As always, I'm forever grateful for him stopping by.

There is NEVER a bad time to get a visit from my Best Friend...
TAKEN: MAY 1985

X IS FOR X-CEPTIONAL

I would be remiss if I didn't pay homage to the x-ceptional relationship I have with my daughter!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 2017

B IS FOR BLACK BEAUTY

Today my post if for my beautiful black flat-coated retriever ANNIE!
TAKEN: 2015,2016,2017,2018

MY CUP RUNNETH OVER

This morning I awoke and decided to stay in bed simply because I could. You know those kind of days, when you wholeheartedly embrace being a fornicating canine? Anyway, as the morning progressed closer to the noon, I text my daughter and asked if she would like to join me for lunch: she said yes.

As I landed at her apartment to pick her up, she appeared to be walking toward me carrying a relatively large cardboard box. I knew it wasn’t her laundry, because that is usually presented to me in a very task specific kind of basket, not a box. So, with my curiosity piqued and her wearing a cat shit eating grin, she arrived at me and announced, “...I have something for you.” Inside were more of the very treasured Petro-Canada glasses I obsessively collect!

Thanks to everyone for every effort
to help grow my special collection. *hugs*
TAKEN: MARCH 17th, 2018

Being in the middle of town and opening that box today made me realize that my more than decade long act of collecting these beautiful holder of anything liquid (in memory of my father) has evolved into a true tag-team effort. 

This lot came from a blog reader and personal friend of Staccs that I don't really know. So I want to say, yet again, that I am truly grateful to all that call, buy, deliver, and even text message location deets; while truly remaining on the lookout.

The interesting twist to this post is that when I got home and sat down to begin to write this one, I did what 99% of us do when we sit down at a computer, I checked my Facebook.  As soon as it populated, I discovered it was the anniversary of the death of a man that I spent a phenomenal amount of time with he and his family during my teen years.

Looking at the photo she'd posted and reading her tribute to her dad, embraced everything I would say to mine if I could. That I love him, and miss absolutely everything about him. Every... single... day.

I know there are so some naysayers out there may think the glass collecting obsession is silly, but it doesn't phase me. Instead,  if I could offer one vantage point of logic to their negativity it's that what they don’t know is, in the very minute I hold one of these new to me special treasures in my hand, I'm in a wonderful moment with my Dad. Today I could hear his laughter in the car with my daughter and I; and there's nothing even remotely silly about that.

Cheers to both these awesome guys today. Hope they are sharing a burger & a beer.

Not to mention having a good laugh about my asinine glass collection!

STACCS & LUKE FOREVER

I don't know about you, but I enjoyed an amazing civil long weekend. I was honoured to watch Jukebox stand witness as two of his closest friends got married, then spent the rest of my break with great friends at our cottage.

Slowly but surely, I hit the grind completely exhausted first thing last Tuesday morn and (as an almost added bonus) I managed to blog that evening and purge my more serious thoughts; which is always an accomplishment when life is as crazy busy as it was last week.

Then, Wednesday evening my daughter stopped by the house higher than a kite. Not from drugs or any sort of substance, simply jacked from the sheer excitement and euphoria of what the next run of days was going to bring; the Boots & Hearts Festival about an hour south of us.

A) It's officially ON. B) Great hat. C) Rockin' to her favourite Keith Urban song .D) Flip Cup between sets.
TAKEN: AUGUST 10th - 13th, 2017

We knew she'd saved enough money to go and there was going to be about 10 of them camping together. They had planned all their meals and shopped as a group to save money. They seemed (from my vantage point) to have a well thought out plan for the festival as large as this one. Good, solid plan, yes. But I still couldn’t help but worry. With over 120,000 in attendance, how could I not worry? In the end, there was no need to.

As her kick-ass adventure progressed, true to her word, photos and videos began to arrive keeping us updated throughout the excitement.  She called me in the early afternoon Sunday because her phone had died in the night and there was just too much to tell me via text.

She told me that next year she thought we should join in. Then she continued to tell me that for a stint on Saturday she got separated from her crew and ended up hanging out and enjoying the music with another lady whose children were there with friends. "She was really old," she said. "Like 45... but she was cool and we had a blast!!" 

Look at that smile... Home today, she's experienced four glorious nights that would end with her drinking a twisted tea as her fave Luke Bryan closed the festival, whilst singing specifically to her in a crowd of tens of thousands of people.

Yup, you read that right. Just as she envisioned, he sang specifically to her. Just as I am truly only 29 years of age... NOT like the really old 45 year old she hung out with last Saturday.

Ah, the life inside my very active imagination, is absolutely amazing!!

#yagottalaughaboutit

THE LOVES OF MY LIFE

A thorn between two roses and the true loves of my life.
TAKEN: JUNE 11th, 1988

Yesterday would have been my fathers' 89th birthday and tomorrow I will celebrate my 29th wedding anniversary. If I've asked you once, I feel I've asked you a hundred times; where the hell has does the time go?

It seems like it was only a minute and a half ago that I was listening to my father and his father chat in the living room of 222 2nd Avenue. His mother would be humming away in the kitchen and his brother, as always, would have been looking to instigate a tickling match. It would have been the early 1970's.

The 70's turned into the 80's and by the end of the decade I was married. The 90's brought children and the decade was a blur. All of that said, after surviving the whole Y2K fiasco, it was the middle of the decade that changed me and 2005 will always be the year that will be etched in my memory for the rest of my life.

Not a day goes by that I don't miss my dad. He was the first man I ever loved and I love him as much today, as I did the moment he died in my arms. Fittingly, my other true love was with the both of us on that fateful morn. Even more than a decade later my husband will become emotional when we chat about how he left us. Our conversation usually ends with him verbalizing "...he was my best friend."

With the kids grown and gone we often talk of how we've become the others closest companion. We spend 99.99% of our time together working toward our common goals. When we began this journey more than three decades ago we were much more individual. As most can relate, friends, even greedy self-absorbed siblings, come and go but we will always have the other. He has embraced my love of the outdoors and I have resigned myself to not argue when he wants me to be adventurous with food. I must say, it is our mutual love of sports, music & travel that has become our strongest glue.

It's hard to admit that my dad leaving us the way he did produced crack in the foundation of our strong marriage but in hindsight we realize it was a lot of the subjective actions of those around us that was our issue, not our commitment to each other.

As I sit here typing on my laptop and watching my husband quietly chip away at a crossword puzzle I never finished, I can't help but daydream. I wish my dad was sitting with us. He'd be playing solitaire and humming amidst complaining about the crap card he'd be turning.

Once he realized he had lost yet again, he'd stop to acknowledge my pups. Probably because they'd be under foot but more importantly so that he could take the opportunity tell me that he thinks I take better care of them than I do my man. Yep, those were the days. When the loves of my life would tag team with each other in an effort to get a reaction out of me.

Good times. Really.... GREAT times.

A SIGN OF THE TIMES

While in the midst of undertaking my weekly chores this morning, my cell phone began buzzing on my nightstand. I instantly ripped off my very fashionable bright yellow Rubbermaid gloves, abandoning the undeniable enjoyment of cleaning the shower stall in the ensuite. 

With stealth like grace I effortlessly bolted over the bed with an outstretched arm narrowly getting to my phone on the very last ring. What the hell... I lied. I slowly walked around the bed kinda pissed that I'd been interrupted. 

Glass half full? It was Jukebox. 

He's been furniture shopping for an armchair on weekends for some time now. So I told him if/when he found something he wanted to purchase, to simply call to get it moved. Well today was the day, and that was my call. So, I summoned his dad to meet up with him to help him get this poop in a group. A couple of hours later they arrived at the house. 

They had unconventionally accomplished what they'd set out to do and my son was very happy with his purchase. He went on to tell me of a sign he had seen in the second hand store and considered purchasing it for me. I was ecstatic. As a mom, it never gets old when your kids unexpectedly think of you and what you love.

Short story long... at the end of the day I sensed he worried that I would find his sentiment 'cheesy' and with the insignificant price price tag of  50 cents, it wasn’t worth his effort. He immediately knew by my reaction that it wasn't about the material item nor value, more how appreciative I was about his genuine thoughtfulness and consideration of me. 

In turn, he went back to the store and returned with this amazing sign. 

Thanks, Jukebox. I will always love you, and my new sign.

As I have always reminded. Embrace the little things. In the end, they are HUGE!

Poppa would be proud...
The 'dog hairs' reference leads me to believe the homemade sign entrepreneur was from Quebec!
TAKEN: MAY 13th, 2017 

S IS FOR SPECIAL

Darin, ME, and my hubby getting ready to head to the last day of the French Quarter Festival.
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2017

I don’t know about you but I remember my first true friendship from a very young age.

Her name was Ellen and the last time I saw her, we were in the early stages of high school. I have looked for her online for years but we lost track of each other when she enrolled in the nursing program and the University of Ottawa (or so I have been told). Not sure if she ever heads back to our old neighbourhood but even in mid-life, I think of her often.

I guess my point is that it takes a friend to make a friend and she was my first. All of that said, I believe you know in the moment when you connect with someone you don’t want to lose touch with; and in the spring of 2012 I starting working with Darin. 

The fact that we're 1400 miles apart has never been a challenge. In the summer of 2015 he traveled to meet me face to face and most recently we traveled to him. Definitely the best birthday trip today date, I got to experience some amazing music and very special southern hospitality.

I feel blessed to have celebrated my special occasion with a very special friend.

He's definitely a keeper and I'm sure Ellen would love him. I know I do!

P IS FOR PARENTING

I read a quote somewhere that referenced parenting as the easiest thing in the world to have an opinion on, and the hardest thing you'll ever do. I couldn’t agree more.

When we discovered that we were going to have the stork stop by in the winter of 1990, we were shocked. Not because we didn’t know how babies were made but we had purchased a new home a year earlier and with mortgage interest being at 12.5%, our 5 year financial commitment was staggering.

The Fam-Jam rockin' Huckleberry Rock in Muskoka
TAKEN: OCTOBER 10th, 2016

When our first born arrived, he was the perfect baby. We didn’t have much money back then but he brought so much joy to us we decide we’d like the stork to visit again; this time, in 1992, he delivered two!

Like any family, we have taken a journey. Even all these years later, I can reflect on certain situations and still wish I would have done things differently. Then again, you know what they say about hindsight; it’s in the past and not the direction I am going.

Today, I look at them as young adults and hope every single day that we have given them some good tools to be both successful and personally happy. I remember being so sad when they all left for school, perhaps I was naive enough to think they would never return. They all have and at least once left again.

After this last stint of my eldest boy being our roommate again, we knew we wouldn't allow any of them to move back home. Not because we're upset with them but we really feel it's time they leave the homestead. Though we would never see them in dire straits, moving home again's no longer an option.

I have to admit, when we get together, I am always joking that should they insist on returning, I am getting a one bedroom apartment with no pull out sofa. Seriously, I should probably tell them that I'm really not joking.... I'm dead serious.

Ya gotta laugh about it!

L IS FOR LOVE

I can't begin to explain what I experienced when I was away for my birthday trip. I have always been somewhat of a closeted artist and no matter what, I always make an effort to embrace any and all offerings in their context. When I was in New Orleans, I expereinced a medium that was new to me: a living statue.

This is what I was given when I placed some money at her feet. Otherwise, she never moved.
Respect is what we awe... Love is what we give.
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2017

A living statue is a street artist who poses as a statue or mannequin, for hours at a time. The one I am sharing today absolutely moved me. I watched her in the scorching hot sun as her perspiration formed pools of sweat dripping from her elbows and her back was completely soaked. Nothing distracted her and her vibe was awe inspiring. 

Out of respect, if I took a photo or videotaped an artist, I left them a monetary reward for entertaining me. This is the only artist I rewarded twice. Once after I took her photo the first time and again when she gently moved to hand me her message. The moment of watching her move and offer me this small gift still gives me goosebumps as I type. In that moment, I thanked her. 

...Because the only thing more powerful than giving love, is receiving it.

Have a great day.