awe, humility, hope and a few other things I might notice

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10 Rainy Day Projects

Start by drinking coffee, good cofffee, hot coffee, mmmm. Sorry got distracted there for a minute.

1)  Write an email to your ex-spouse, in a foreign language that you no longer speak well, just to keep up some good will in case s/he wins the lottery.

2)  Re-organize everything, shelves, closets, your life’s priorities.

3)  Take the last few of whatever random vitamins or supplements that have been occupying precious shelf space for, ahhemm, years. Complete project number 2 first and you will be sure not to do anything dangerous. Also, read labels for side-effects and interactions. Caution: never proceed directly to project number 1, wait at least 3 hours. Also, make sure you have consumed food, not just several cups of coffee before beginning.

4)   Floss. Yeah, right.

5)   Find a recipe which will use up your entire dessicated and long avoided supplies of odd food items like dried coconut powder, tamarind pulp or brewer’s yeast (or combines them all like a chef version of Jekyl and Hyde, then serve the concoction to your significant other). Oops, coconut powder was moldy, definitely don’t serve to your beloved.

6)  Research the effects of an overdose of apple cider vinegar pills at the earliest onset of dizziness.

7)  Spend quality time with your pet, they are as bored as you are today and probably irritated that you have been re-organizing everything. See how annoyed she looks.

see how annoyed she looks

8)  Whatever you do, DON’T read any self-help books, otherwise you might end up crazy like the mom in American Beauty. You can read self-help books on sunny days, cloudy days even, but never on rainy days. If you feel compelled to learn something get your car manual out and find the page with the instructions on how to change the clock, copy it and clip it to the front of the manual. Maybe the next time daylight savings changes you will spend less time fumbling with the buttons convincing yourself that you remember how to change it.

9)  Remove at least one piece of wall art that has outlived its sentimental hold on you. Dig deep, you can do it.

10) Write a letter (a polite one lest I need to remind you) of complaint to the last store/service/company/$%^&* that was unsatisfactory to you.  They need to know, really.  Especially if it was your cell phone company. Cell phone companies are evil.

Lastly, drink more coffee, you earned it.

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still life

It is still life, as if questioning if it were life, if it were a life,

resignation after a complaint, an unbold assertion or

a remnant, pieces torn from something grand like granite statues

quilted now, puffed little packages of memory, but not resembling itself,

stroke stitches stretched, now sagging,

darting around corners of a former personality

between snips of a familiar voice.


It is still a life, a time, a process, going,

unrippled waters, glass bows and boroughs unseen

watching sand bend.


It is a still life, quiet, slow breathing, un event full,

no trace of the impending doom of shadows or bright distant light of other worlds or


but not languished

observed perhaps.

Mona Lisa’s stilled life,

stolen, bargained, negotiated into or out of,


an infinite compromise

paused in action, a view of the moment, of transition, of knowing that the

next step has already been initiated, neutrons are in place and protons bouncing,

still life

popular advice column

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popular advice column

Popular advice column, seen in a lobby at a southern Ontario truck stop

I have previously posted some of my photos from our trucking adventures but will try to add in a little story here and there. At first going along in the truck was a jaunt, then a pain in the butt from sitting for so long, a serviceful journey to help my husband get through his work day, sometimes a slog, and now perhaps a journal of what I see around the US in places I would otherwise probably never go.  It always, well, almost always brings new sights, people and an evolution in our relationship as well. How could it be anything less when you are sitting next to someone for 12-14 hours a day, sleeping in a slightly larger than twin mattress and otherwise sharing in something akin to camping in a moving vehicle.

I don’t know if we belong to trucking culture, or if we are simply a segment off in the corner. Well, that’s me anyway, as a small billboard somewhere outside of Little Rock Arkansas told me recently, reading my mind and my heart at once-


That was the only word on the sign, posted for me; a job title, a life’s path, an accusation, or a statement of simple truth.

Like the gentleman who called out to me as I walked out of the shower hallway, through the driver’s lounge: “Feel better now” he said. I felt confronted and revealed in an uncomfortable way the moment he said it, a man sitting in a large room with 20 or more other men, me, a woman with a turban and a fresh face walking out from a shower, but I knew he meant it kindly. Yeah, I did feel better. And I feel better with a little time and observation that although the trucking pictures are far from great, they are shaken and tilted and have bug guts on the windows and reflections from the sun and metal, but these are what I see.  So now I include the reflections, the mirrors of the truck, the corner with my own fingers wrapped around the camera. I want the viewer to know how I see it, imprecise, blurred, raw, messy sometimes and beautiful all the same.