Itchin’ – Friday Fictioneers

I’d like to first offer my condolences to Liz on the loss of Don.  My deepest condolences to you. Sending much love your way.

Secondly, I must wish happy birthday to my sister Lisa… Happy birthday, Sis! I love you to bits!

And finally… welcome to Friday Fictioneers, a place where peeps gather round the fire tended by Rochelle every week.  Rochelle could not have made a better choice today (even if she didn’t know it at the time). I saw this and was immediately on a cruise in my mind… since we actually were on one, returning just before the shit officially hit the fan on Friday the thirteenth of March, 2020.  Lordy.  ‘Nuff of that. Click on the frog to play by adding the link to your 100-word story.  G’head. It’s a great way to learn how to trim the fat from your writing…

©Liz Young

Fall is here.

Yes, and it’s my favourite time of the year.

Mine, too.  The weather is perfect.  If it could only stay like this through till spring. Skip winter alltogether.

Not how it works in this neck, you know that.  Why bother harping on it?

Coz this is the time I start itchin’.

Itchin’?

Yeah. Itchin’ to book our next cruise for Spring Break. 

Hah! You just said fall is your favourite.  Enjoy it.  Why rush?

One word for you:  Planning ahead.

That’s two words.

Don’t be a smartass. Shall I call the sisters?

Duh! And don’t forget Mom!

 

Petite Rivière Rouge

De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo hosted dVerse Quadrille yesterday.  Took me some finagling to get my 44 words to where I was willing to share them.  I shoulda chosen another subject because now my memories have come flooding in and this limitation is causing me grief!

 

Petite Rivière Rouge

where childhood memories were made

 

Pépère¹ bulldozed river rocks;

a sandy cove to protect our feet

 

When not being fished,

crapet-soleil² nibbled our toes

 

Rocks have since rolled back

and the river seems more

like a stream to our adult eyes

 


¹Pépère means “Gramps”

²Crapet-soleil is a fish, that, I just learned, is called Pumpkinseed fish – we are never too old to learn 🙂

MFFP - Poissons du Québec - Crapet-soleil

Making the Rounds – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Wednesday and you know what that means, right?  That’s right!  It’s Friday Fictioneers time!  This week, thanks go to the lovely Na’ama Yehuda, who may or may not know that it is her picture being used this week. 😉  No worries, she’ll find out soon enough, eh?  As always, thanks to Rochelle for hosting this weekly shindig!  If you want to play along, add your link to your own 100-word story by click on the frog below.

Personalized Hand Painted Frog Christmas Ornament | Etsy

For God sakes Emma, did you see what the Richardson’s did to their yard?  They’ve put fake snow and decorated their outside trees.  I’m pretty sure I saw a Christmas tree in their living room window!

Yes, that’s right.  Glad to see your eyes are working

Why the hell for?  It’s July for Christ’s sake.

Their daughter Bessie doesn’t have long with this world and they want her to have one last Christmas.

Oh damn, that is so sad.  I’ve an idea!

What are you doing?

Call the neighbours and put on your coat, hat and mitts, we’re going carolling!

 

 

Resiliency, Thy Name is Noëlla

It was prosery (144 words max, not including the title and no poetry allowed) Monday yesterday for dVerse. I’m late but hey, c’est la vie, I say… Lisa at Tao-Talk is hosting and went down a rabbit hole that started with Alice Walker and her interest in Zora Neale Hurston.  So, Lisa landed on the following quote, which we must use:

No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.

                                      ~Zora Neale Hurston, from “How Does it Feel to be Colored Me” in World Tomorrow (1928).

Reading that phrase immediately brought to mind my grandmother, who was also my godmother, and to whom I have been compared (it thrills me).  No, she never used this phrase but its essence is definitely Noëlla to me.

You were my hero from the moment I was old enough to understand the stories. How you were the eldest of fifteen children and had you a choice, would have had none of your own – yet birthed seven.  How you lived in lumberjack shacks where the sun shone through the cracks and the water froze in the kettle overnight. How you had the strength to leave your alcoholic husband to raise your kids on your own – and were judged for it by the Nuns who taught your kids.  How you survived the death of all three of your sons over the years.  How you became a businesswoman, despite a grade-three education.

“No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”

I know you were saying it’s up to you to make or break your life.

A Family Trip – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Wednesday!  And the last day of work for me, followed by a four-day weekend. Again. Wooo hoooo!  So, why not play a little with this lovely Russell Gayer image?  Thanks, always to Rochelle for hosting this weekly party.  I do appreciate your efforts, my friend.  Should you be interested in writing your own 100-word story to go with, just click on the frogs below and add you link!

Click to play

 

All five of us in a van for four weeks?  Have you lost your mind?

It’ll be great.  We’ll get a chance to see most of our beautiful country and part of the States on our return.

Five of us. Together. Four weeks.

Yes.  It’ll be great.  We each get one hour of music and no one is allowed to complain.

Hah! You think that is enough to stem potential arguments?

Have faith.

And you, have reality.

I do. And I think this will be a trip of a lifetime.

Or will feel like it lasts that long…

Shut up.

 

Overdue

Do you remember when we called cancer the C-word?  The pandammit changed all that so that the new C-word is Covid or Corona or Calvaire (French swear word for misery) and goddammit-all-to-hell-we’re-fed-up-of-being-locked-up-and-not-being-able-to-see-friends Crap.

That said, while I have avoided whining about it or blogging about it, I’ve made mention in passing and since we are starting to see a sort of glow at the end of the tunnel… I don’t dare say more for fear of potentially jinxing anything – right. Like I have any kind of power of that sort!  Still. Why take unnecessary chances?

This past Thursday was our St-Jean-Baptiste holiday in Quebec.  I, for one, can become quite Québécoise by indulging in the old tunes I very much enjoyed do when I was a teenager (and still).  My eldest asked if he could have friends over on the Wednesday, as everyone was off on Thursday. Always such a cool mom, I said yes 😉

The evening was perfect and the kids all ended up on our roof to watch not one, not two, but four different fireworks.

After taking this picture of the “kids”, I simply turned towards the street, walked to the curb and was able to film this:

Uprooted – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Wednesday and you know what that means, right?  Well, most times it means I Friday Fictioneer.  And this time, just before I have to hit the door for work!  Woot!  Thank you to Rochelle for hosting week after week, and this week, thank you to Brenda Cox for the loan of her interesting image!  Click on the frogs below to play by adding the link to your own 100-word story!

©Brenda Cox

613 Frog On Log Stock Photos, Pictures & Royalty-Free Images - iStock

Click to play!

 

I don’t understand how things like this go down.  Everything is perfect and then… uprooted  In the blink of an eye.  Why do I put up with it?  Every move means starting over, rebuilding in an unknown environment.  I have to relearn where to go and how to go about getting it.  The kids are amazing, though. So far, they seem to thrive on each new change. For them, it’s a new world to explore with new friends to make.  How did I manage to raise such open and enthusiastic children when I, myself am tormented each and every time?

Happy Face

Mish is hosting dVerse Quadrille today.  We are asked to use a variation of the word “Smudge” – so many ways this word could be used so I went through my photos, looking for inspiration.  Landed on this one and well, just had to use it!

Smeared and smudged

face full of chocolate

Putting on a show

with makeshift microphone

belting out pure joy

at summer’s freedoms

Can it get any better than this?

Childhood is not meant to be

neat and tidy all the time

the hose can wait

 

In a Rush For the Flower Moon

Two days later than I wanted to post. Sigh. Life. It does love to throw curveballs at you, doesn’t it?  This one was a doozie and took me two days to recuperate from!  Still… Please pretend we are May 25th – the day I wanted to post it, even if the dVerse prompt came on Monday, the 24th. Frank J. Tassone was the host and the subject was: write a haibun about the Flower Moon – said moon was officially yesterday and somehow, I missed it. Or rather was so sure it was the 25th that I didn’t even think of checking last night.  This moon pic was taken on the 25th, however 🙂

You aren’t due till the summer solstice, possibly near a Strawberry Moon? Probably not.  You are supposed to arrive when roses and and peonies and poppies are in full bloom.  When the tulips and daffodils have already done their thing.

Instead, you decide the Flower Moon is more your style.  You want late spring blooms:  lilacs and rhododendrons, daisies and violets.

Maybe you know your time here will be brief so you want to get a chance to fully experience everything nature has to offer.  Who knows?  All I know is this:  When the day is breezy and I open my bedroom window, the scent of the wild lilac bush right below my window comes up and wafts through my room, reminding me of you. And to think this year was to be your lucky year! Twenty-five years old on the twenty-fifth of May.

A Flower Moon child

In a rush, to see it all

Gone before you could

 

 

Why Bother?

It is Quadrille Monday on dVerse!  Today’s hostess is De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) who has asked us to write our 44-word poem using the word bother in some way, shape or form.  De is  Being bothered seems to be second nature to many of us moms… just sayin’…

Why Bother?

“Thanks for soups, Mamz.”

“Yeah, it was great!”

And before I know it

they’ve flown off their chairs

mouths still chewing that last bite

Why do I bother?

Would it kill them to just once

offer to clean the dishes

without me hounding them?