Not My Blog
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Google yourself, Nicole Pakan, Google yourself please, and possibly show up here. I heard your entry on CBC yesterday as part of CBC's 2009 Poetry Faceoff, and I want to tell you something to keep you from potential embarrassment in the future. "Da Vinci" is where the artist is from. His name is "Leonardo." Other than that, the amount of research you did for your poem is impressive. But when you get your subject's name wrong, well . . . that's a fairly big goof.
Jane, who battles with the burden of perfection every day.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Long after they were new, I finally see the movies I fully intended to see when they were released. I took the rare opportunity (Nik and her pa being off the Island for the weekend) to veg in front of the beeg beeg screen, and what do you know. "The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian." Didn't finish it. "Mamma Mia." Wandered off during the middle of the film, came back to enjoy the delightfully silly ending. "The Dark Knight." Didn't finish it.
You see, this is what gardening and farm chores have done to me. There are always myriad chores to be done, and even taking a rare blogging break means that, well, I guess I ain't getting them geraniums planted tonight.
Two weeks have passed since my cousin's husband, John, died. He lived a couple of years longer than his doctor predicted, and he was not one to pity himself as the cancer spread and his condition deteriorated. But still, he died when his children were aged 10 and 8, respectively. There's no getting away from the life-hollowing grief of that. I'm going down to see my cousin Les and her children later this coming week, and staying for John's memorial service. Leslie is my hero.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
My kingdom for a. Diego, aka Big Guy, Bugman and Poppa. An appaloosa gelding, going on 10 years old, spotty, rangy, angular. I took him for his inaugural Victoria trail ride today, with Nik riding Bonnie. He was beyond great. We're in love.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
It is at those times when I see a peacock doing his "hey baby" dance and flaunting his impeccable tail feathers to the mildly interested peaheans on our front lawn, or watch the mother quail trot across the road followed by her chicks, or startle the gleaming fat bunnies snacking on perennials, or watch deer prance across the backyard, or hear the nesting bald eagles shrill good mornings to each other, that I realize I am living in a storybook place. A Middle Earth place. Perhaps Narnian.
The pang I had at saying goodbye to El Condo Non Grande has been soothed by this island anodyne. Oh, look: another blue-green duck egg. The day has begun.
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