Curiosity may have killed the cat but if not for curiosity, I would forever be stuck in the doldrums. I’m already a bit of a hermit except the ‘cat’ or Sheba gets the best of me and lures me out of myself. Then there’s those shoulds and ought tos. I should get out in the world more. I ought to do this and that. What I am is happy that I listen to those shoulds and ought tos. If not for them I would have missed alot of good outings, opportunities and a well rounded life.

If I was to give in to my rathers and do as I please, I would probably languish on the couch all the livelong day. But I was brought up with discipline. I hear those shoulds loud and clear though no one said a word. Sometimes Often it is wretched difficult to even bat my eye lashes but I got to do it. Nobody else can do it for me. I sigh alot. It seems to help, especially if I give it a great big heave-ho. It’s like a push off.

My push off was phoning my mother this morning. I asked if she and my father want to go to the library. It’s my regular outing with them. It’s something I can do for them but sometimes it is hard. Making that phone call makes it easier. Then I’m committed, no ifs and buts.  So fortunate our library has Chinese books. After we get our books, we would go to the mall for coffee. We were lucky today. We ran into a couple of their friends. It was a nice time. I listen to their gossip and their talk about their aches and pains. I am no longer a working nurse so I offer no remedies. Besides, my mother never listens to me, a professional nurse. She would take her friends’ advice over mine. I’ve learned that now. I keep quiet. I’m a good daughter.

Writing this post is not a picnic either. I’m still in the stutter mode. I feel no flow today so it’s hard work. It’s a lot of sighing, muttering and sweating to find the words.  I’m not aiming for a literary award. I’m trying to impart just a wee bit of a reason why you’ll want to read me. So ends another day and my mutterings. Better luck to me tomorrow.



May 9th, the 9th day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge.

Beginnings are challenging. I’m not inspired this morning. Instead of sitting here, staring into space, thinking about how to make my first tap, the first letter, word, sentence, I move in the direction of things calling to be done. The bathroom floor is the loudest but the least attractive. I heed the advice of doing the hardest thing first. After vacuuming the mats, I washed that square inch of floor. I don’t understand my feelings of ‘hard to do’ stuff. They are not hard at all except in my mind. Knowing and acknowledging that makes each time easier.

Having done that and a few other chores, I am trying to tap my heart out. I am hit with a wave of sleeping sickness. I will try to keep my eyes open and search for a bit of inspiration. I think mostly it is born out of perspiration, the hard work of chipping away at something. It’s like my patchwork tablecloth. It began years ago with sewing squares together. I was just making use of the fabric remnants I had picked up at the closing of a drapery and upholstery store years ago.

It was years before I had bought my Bernina sewing machine with an embroidery module. My purpose for it was not the machine embroidery. I was inspired by artistry of the quilters at the Saskatoon Quilters Guild Quilt Show in 2017. I was determined to get one those fancy dancy machines on display. By golly I did that December. It was so fancy I had to let it sit in the box for awhile before tackling it. I watched many tutorials on how to use the self threader before I could latch onto it. It was many hours watching tutorials before I could even understand the manual. I was happy to sew just a straight seam. I got a high from the sound of the thread cutter. A few months later and lots of perspiration, I was drawing with the needle, my wildest dream come true.

The machine embroidery came much later after more perspiration. It’s another post.


I’m repeating myself, but February is heart month. To have heart is to have courage. Sometimes Many times I feel such a lacking in myself. I have not taken the helm. I’m blown hither and thither in the winds of life. I have been so disengaged, living in my head mostly. I haven’t even noticed. I’ve said so many “it doesn’t matter” and “good enough”. Suddenly I woke up today to find that it does matter. I matter and I won’t settle for good enough. Things have to be better or I will not be able to move forward. I shall be forever walking down the same f**ing street in Portia Nelson’s poem.

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes me a long time to get out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in. It’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault. I get out immediately.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

I walk down another street.”

I am very disappointed and angry with myself. I have been lazy. There’s no other reason. It’s hard work to have a life. I have gotten up, dressed up and shown up every day. But I have not put in the effort to do the hard work. I thought I have but I hadn’t. How the view changes as I wake up from my sleep. I have found some courage on the Yellow Brick Road to the Emerald City. I have to work and strengthen my heart and keep my brain clear not to regress and fall into the same frigging hole. I will avoid those 2 idiot phrases from my speech as much as possible. No, I must delete them completely.

Now if I was to fall into the rabbit hole with Alice, it might be more fun, revealing and helpful.