Falling in the General Direction of Up

It rained yesterday. So it gave me the perfect opportunity to enter a mall and hunker down for some serious shopping.  The reason for this trip was simple. It's that time of year where I gleefully go through my closet and yank out all the coats and jackets and sweaters and pants and dresses and shirts and shoes I've been wearing all winter and pack those suckers away. It's my "So long Winter! Don't let the door hit you on the way out!" ritual.  Whilst doing so (I'm not trying to be pretentious using the word 'whilst', just whimsical...it's fun to say 'whilst' once in a while don't you think?) I unpack all the cute jackets and tops and dresses and skirts and shorts and shoes I haven't worn since September. It's a glorious little ritual for me.  Before any summer clothes go into my closet or drawers however, I must try them all on to see what still fits. And, to  my surprise most of what I wore last year is too...

I never really knew what would be the result of my attempts to write. It all started with the idea of writing a book about how I met my dad. I didn't really know if I could write or what I should write. But I did it anyway. My initial 20 or 30 thousand words were deleted and I started over again. My second 20 or 30 thousand words were also deleted and I started over for a third time. That time, most of the words  seemed to stick. I literally lost count of how many edits and tweaks and moving this paragraph to that spot and deleting that paragraph in favour of another one took place. Nor could I estimate how many times I read and re-read the entire thing from the day of inception to it's final chapter. Writing a book is a fluid - dare I say - living - creation until the very last period has been placed. When I declared within myself that it was done I gathered the courage to hand over, not just my blood, sweat and tears (well - I think there was a minimum of blood, but th...

Yeah so...remember when just days earlier when I was leaping and frolicking - joyful over spring and the prospect of "doing" Easter for the first time in many years? Well - what the Easter Bunny dropped off at my door was not fluffy or chocolatey or colourful. It was the highly infectious and very unpleasant, Flu. And before you think I'm over-reacting that the Easter Bunny tried to kill me with it, consider this , and this . Also consider the fact that at one point, my body aching so bad for so long with no relief, I did briefly wish someone would just put me out of misery.  Easter morning dawned promising enough. It was warmer than usual and I was still in a joyful-spring-is-here frame of mind. I exited the house with a warm wrap instead of my usual winter coat. (Oh yes - remember those danishes I got for Easter breakfast for me and B3? The moment I cut into them I knew he would hate them. Cream Cheese filling. So I made him his usual bacon and eggs. More danis...