Pieces of My Father in Song

Posted on May 23, 2023 by Dale | 125 Comments

Back in March, there was a dVerse challenge to use a list of titles of songs with the words Dad, daddy or father in them. I started to write and then realised, no… I must save this one for today. I am still struggling with the fact that it has been ten years today since my father chose to stop “our” suffering.

Dad and me

Dad and me with King

Dad and his girls

Dad and me

Dad

Dancing with the bride

Today marks the tenth anniversary

of My old man leaving this earth on his terms

His sideways glance and grimace at such term

meant, of course, to discourage us,

didn’t work

My father’s eyes twinkled blue

with mirth (mostly)

or turned steely grey

in anger (rarely)

How did none of us inherit them?

My Daddy’s hands were the standard

all my boyfriends’ were judged against

(few could compare)

His were capable of many things

and in my father’s house

was proof of his prowess

He always thought he wanted boys

to pass on his name, father to son

but soon realised how much he was blessed

to have not one daddy’s little girl, but three

My dance with my father was as special to me

as it was for both of my sisters

and he never hesitated to say

Your daddy loves you

For ten years, I have missed you, Daddy

and still go to pick up the phone

to share news or ask your opinion

So here is a a song for dad

I think of you every time I hear it

Silent Sunday for Mother’s Day

Weekend Writing Prompt #302 – Breathtaking

Posted on March 12, 2023 by Dale | 97 Comments

It’s Weekend Writing Prompt time. Sammi does specify that we can do variations on the word and, while I feel I am totally cheating in doing so, I’m still doing so!

There was a sense of déjà vu for this one since last Monday, the dVerse Quadrille challenge was “gasp” which one can do when something is breathtaking, no? Of course, this time, I have 30 less words to play with and have gone a whole ‘nother route 🙂

Breathtaking

your lips

leave a trail of fire

your kiss

takes my breath away

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Let Me Show You the Waze

Posted on March 3, 2023 by Dale | 100 Comments

I was watching Chicago Med the other day (what can I say? I enjoy the three Chicagos, Med, PD and especially Fire). Anyway, Dr. Crockett Marcel uses this AI O.R. 2.0. It is a very advanced way of doing surgery. The 2.0 is programmed to let you know when you can or cannot do something, give you best options, or even let you know if you are too tired to operate. They had this very weird scenario where, to save a hand until it can be reconnected (due to infection), they do what is called ectopic banking, which is basically to plant an amputated member onto another part of the body (in this case, the hand to the leg) to keep it properly perfused and prevent the member from dying until it can be reattached. The 2.0 has no record of how to do this but it can keep tabs on the perfusion.

After they successfully do this operation (of course), Crockett then chooses to use a regular OR for some other procedure. When asked why? He responds: “Do you ever go anywhere without using your GPS?” The person responds, “No, why should I? It’s there, might as well use it.” His answer to that is: “Well, I have the need to make sure I can still find my way without this type of technology.”

This brought me to a discussion with B about the very same thing. How once upon a time, I would have just looked up the road to take (or asked directions) and taken it. I could possibly hit construction detours, but hey, I would have figured it out in the end. Now? I use the damn thing to go to places I know off by heart! Why? Simply to see if there is traffic to avoid. It’s a good justification, right? Maybe…

Besides the traffic pitfalls to avoid (or the least painful ones), Waze (I choose over Google Maps) gives me some interesting routes. It rarely screws up, either.

I have used it almost every day since Monday, visiting my daughter at the clinic where she is recuperating from elective surgery. What you might not be able to see on the image at left is that where she is, is at the very top part of the island of Montreal. You see I have to cross one bridge, drive across and through to the other side. So far to the “top” that it is right beside one of the many bridges to cross over into the Island of Laval. There are a few options to cross but all depend on which way the traffic stalls. Ugh.

What does not help is visiting hours at the centre are from 2 pm to 8 pm. I figure most of her friends would only be able to visit after work so I leave the evenings for them (we can only visit one at a time, anyway).

Wednesday, I took pity on her and brought her a good pillow. I figured I’d get there for 2 and leave by 3:30, latest, getting just the beginning of traffic. HAH! Jokes on me.

Well now, while the drive took me almost an hour, it was a surprising and rather enjoyable one. Instead of sending me over to the Champlain bridge, or to the tunnel (which I avoid like the plague since they are redoing the damn thing), it took me to the Jacques-Cartier bridge. Hmmm. This meant going through boroughs and along streets I was not expecting (nor familiar with, at least not this far north).

It took everything in my power NOT to pull over and take a bunch of pictures. Though I will admit to taking quick pics at stop signs and stop lights… ahem.

I am determined, now, to take a day (I would have today but with yesterday’s snowfall? The street, and especially parking, will be hell.

See that slushy mess? And the ploughs pass when they do and you get snowed in. It’s gross and unpleasant. I shall see what the deal is shortly!

Now I just have to remember where I saw the following mural – taken through my dirty window while at a red light (I’m not that foolish!)

Maybe GPS is not so bad after all, eh?

No Expectations – dVerse

Posted on February 15, 2023 by Dale | 90 Comments

On Monday, the lovely Merril hosted dVerse Prosery Monday. I promised her I would participate but it took me two days to get the words I wanted. These are still not the ones that popped into my head as I was walking but that’s how it goes, sometimes. We were challenged to use the following poetry line, but NOT in any poetry form whatsoever. We have 144 words to work with (not including the title):

“This year’s a different thing, –
I’ll not think of you.”

from Charlotte Mew, “I so liked Spring”

It’s the same thing, year after year. I tell myself not to expect anything, that way there will be no disappointments. It’s like I can’t help myself; my mind goes off on its own, raking in one thought after another, building up a scenario until I find myself thinking, yes! that’s exactly it. That’s what I want. Then I wait for it to happen ~ for some mysterious entity to come along and do the necessary to bring that random scenario to fruition. How foolish is that? I know better. I’m past the fairy tale age. There is no myth to getting what you desire. It requires effort. On MY part.

I promise myself this year’s a different thing. I’ll not think of you as that mysterious entity come to swoop in and make it happen. Having you join me will be a bonus.

Remember Brooklyn? – Friday Fictioneers

Posted on February 9, 2023 by Dale | 141 Comments

Good Thursday, my peeps. It’s a grey day here and I wanted to go for my daily walk but I was on slo-mo and now I can’t go because my contractor is coming for some last minute thingies and I’ve run out of time. If I had been smart and organized, I’d have been out the door by nine but hey, I’m nothing if not go-with-the-flow. As a result, well, why not play Friday Fictioneers? Go on over to Rochelle’s blog by clicking here to find out the how-to’s inspired by Roger Bultot’s photo below. Got a 100-word story simmering in your noggin that just needs release? Click on the the lovebirds below and add your link. G’head, it’s fun!

©Roger Bultot

Dear Bill,

Going over some old photographs today, I found our trip to Brooklyn. Do you remember? It was November and the trees were still dressed in golden yellow leaves. We were excited to be together again.

We were determined to cross into Manhattan by subway (getting lost in the confusing labyrinth), so we could walk back over the Brooklyn Bridge. Such tourists we were. 🙂 We decided to stop for pizza at Grimaldi’s and had to pool our money, because they only took cash. Best pie ever!

Just thought I’d bring you for my walk down memory lane…

Lotsa love,

Lianne

New Year – First Dinner

Posted on January 23, 2023 by Dale | 155 Comments

I was going to entitle this “Breaking in the New Kitchen” but that would be technically wrong as I did host the Christmas breakfast with my family… My sister might disagree with who should have been first for last night’s feast but hey, things don’t always they way we plan, yanno?

Anyhoo, this evening was planned after we learned of our friend’s death on December 18th (post still not finished but will follow shortly). We suddenly felt the need to see each other; the funeral home not counting.

I swear I am the queen of start and not finish. 🙄 So, before I lose the feeling of last night, here I go. I started on Friday. Lucky for me, I was “liberated” from a job I loathe on Thursday, giving me all day Friday to cook (if that was how I chose to use my time).

I started things off by making the parsley-celery oil for the soup as well as the parsnip chips, inspired by my chef friend Janet, of The Simmering Chef’s recipe. Click here to get it. I was determined to use chicken thighs (skin on, bone in) that I had in my freezer so The Google was brought into service. I found Ina Garten’s Chicken Marbella. I got all the ingredients together and placed them in a bag to marinate all afternoon and overnight. If I hadn’t had my date night that included watching the oh-so-horrible-please-don’t-waste-your-time movie “The Poison Rose” (surprising cast: John Travolta, Morgan Freeman, Famke Janssen, Brendan Fraser), I might have actually made my soup AND my cake but no…

No matter! I was up and at ’em really early so, first things first, I baked the cake. I am so mad at myself as I had been making Soeur Angèle’s version of the Sachertore for eons (though it had been ages since I last made it) and could not find my copy of the recipe. I was positive I had kept that page, but no. Sigh. So onto The Google (again) I went. No luck. Her recipe is not to be found. So I keep my search up until I found one that sorta-kinda resembled what I remember of it by Lidia Bastianich, but made a few modifications.

As the cake baked, it was onto the Parsnip soup.

The “Mise”

As the soup simmered, I went out to shovel the walkway – not that there was much, but still, I took my time. Time to purée the soup and set it aside for warming up later.

I then went on to make my cheese bowls (Raclette and Grana Padano) that would hold my mesclun salad with Raspberry-Honey Vinaigrette. Every time I make these, I am amazed at the quantity of fat I need to wipe out of the frying pan!

Frying the cheese

Formed over square bowls

Cake cooled and iced it was time to do a quick sweep and mop of the floors and take my shower.

Good grief! Who was this broad who was so organized that her hair would not still be dripping wet when her guests arrived? I didn’t recognize her! She even set the table and shucked the oysters and made mignonette!

Just before Giselle and Dany, then Julie and Michael arrived, I put the chicken into the oven. An hour to cook, fifteen minutes to rest and Bob’s your uncle. The tour of the remodel was given and, as we are wont to do, stood around the island. We noshed on oysters and drank bubbles while catching up. (And, just so you know, it’s not because I still have not received my sofa that we had to. Plus, I did bring up the stools that will be getting their own makeover soon!)

There is nothing I love more than cooking for people I love. We ate, we laughed, we sang an early happy birthday for Dany (two weeks early) and then, because I had changed the Spotify from 70’s acoustic to French crooners, we ended up doing a sort of karaoke with one of Aznavour’s songs – which, as I wrote about when he passed away, is completely IMPOSSIBLE to sing along to (hell, you can’t even read the lyrics fast enough!)

The meal:

Cream of parsnip with Parsley-celery oil and parsnip crisps

Chicken Marbella with egg noodles that I brilliantly added butter and the oil from the soup

Raclette & Grana Padano bowls with mesclun salad

Sachertorte

Fun times. I’ve never had all the lights on in the house at once. Bloody hell it was bright. (Note to self… use the damn dimmers!)

A crazy bunch

Blow Dany

Birthday Boy

P.S. I started this post, officially yesterday morning (as it’s close to 1 am now) whilst enjoying my raisin bread toast (courtesy of Giselle) followed by one of her delicious almond cookies (and she claims she’s not a baker!) I pressed publish before I realised I forgot to add these!

Raisin bread toasts needs cinnamon sugar!

Cookies made with love

Choosing the Light – Friday Fictioneers

Posted on December 23, 2022 by Dale | 133 Comments

Good Friday morning, my peeps. I sure hope your neck of the woods isn’t too wet or cold or snowy. It’s a gross morning here. First there was snow and now it is raining and windy. It’s gonna be a crappy drive into work. Why do I not work from home, again? Oh yeah. Cuz I have the knack to choose the wrong job. Will fix that right quick in the new year, tell you what! So… For two days now I’ve been struggling to come up with something for this photo for Friday Fictioneers. Can’t not play, eh? It is my photo and it would just be rude to diss the boss. This time of year is a challenging one for me (and for many others, I do not doubt) and it’s nigh on impossible to not focus on all the happenings that have happened in December for the past thirteen years – with a new one added less than a week ago, no less. Not very original, either, as this is pretty much autobiographical. C’est la vie! Should you wish to play along or read what others have come up with, just click on the frog below and add your link. If I don’t manage to come back to blog, I shall wish you all a very Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah or whatever it is you celebrate!

How does she do it, you think?

Do what?

Always find the light, the silver lining, the positive. It’s annoying, actually.

You’re just jealous because you’re an old crabby-ass.

Am not!

Okay, you’re not. Always.

Hmph! Still. With all the shit she has been through, you’d think she would be sad.

Maybe that’s why she focuses on the light. Because she knows the dark. Sounds cliché, but truth, don’t you think?

True. She probably does have sad moments but keeps them to herself.

Exactly.

What say we drop by and say hello? The light’s on.

I think she’d love it.

Weekend Writing Prompt #289 – Engrave

Posted on December 12, 2022 by Dale | 104 Comments

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.

This was supposed to go out yesterday but one thing lead to another and before I knew it, it was bedtime! It seems that this time of year, a certain someone takes over my muse. Yesterday was the eight-year anniversary of Mick’s heart attack and well, hell if this prompt didn’t apply. So, thank you, Sammi, for once again, bringing forth a word that I can use…

There’s nothing quite like

that person

who’s joie de vivre

is so infectious

They remain engraved

in your memories

long after they’re gone

Proof of how much Mick left his mark on any and everyone who met him, his (our) friend Leonard Yelle wrote this on his FB page yesterday:

“About 7-8 years ago I was misbehaving at my company’s Christmas party telling the band that it was a coworkers birthday. . As the band in the restaurant played happy birthday to my confused colleague my phone rang. It was my buddies wife Dale informing me that her husband had suffered a terrible heart attack. I left the party trying to understand it all. I went to see him the next day but he never came out of the coma.

I had met Mick about 10 years earlier on a fishing trip. We had loads in common and became great friends. He’d drop into the shop and as the press ran I’d hear the familiar cheerful sound of Mick’s voice shouting “Buddy” over the running machine , I’d turn and there would be standing Mick with his shit eating grin and mischief dancing in his eyes greeting me. He’d always try to include me into his adventures. Concerts, football tailgating , carting… whatever the outing might be laughter flowed like a tsunami,. His annual Christmas outings with the boys where he’d manage to siphon some money from the company he worked for and pay a few rounds of drinks instead of spending it on his clients and suppliers were an annual highlight. He was a force of nature and a gem of a man, son, father, husband and great friend. I got a chance to speak at his funeral and all I remember was starting off in a room of mostly strangers saying… Hello my name is Leonard and I’m a Mickaholic.

I loved him the minute I met him and I’ll love my dear friend to the day I die. His energy and outlook was infectious.

I hope you’re behaving with my brother buddy and I’ll be see you on the other side down the road.”

Every year, at this time, Leonard changes his profile pic or cover image to the following:

One Day… Soon – Friday Fictioneers

Posted on November 30, 2022 by Dale | 134 Comments

It’s Wednesday. That means Friday Fictioneers and this week I almost had to play as there were more than a few requests for a follow up to my previous story. I had not officially planned to but when I saw this image, well… how could I resist? Should you desire, the first part can be found here. This week our illustrious (or is it illustrated?) leader, Rochelle, has chosen an image from Roger Bultot. Thank you to both of you!

©Roger Bultot

Click to play!

Her chin rested on her palm, elbow on the table, daydreaming. She occasionally took a sip of her coffee as she watched passersby on the other side of the window. It had become her Friday morning ritual; a time to dream, breathe, read, write. It gave her a sense of grace and gratitude. Her gaze fell on him standing there, looking in. Again. Was he stalking her? Somehow, it didn’t feel menacing. What was he waiting for? He took a step, stopped, shook his head, squared his shoulders and, with a determined step, made for the door. Soon was now