Hourglass

countless grains of sand

symetrically poised to

fall through the hole

in the center of the

glass sphere hand

blown with care

and attention

for perfect

precision

slowly

drop

in

g

o

ne

at a

time

into an

emptiness

slowly filling

perfect balance

happens for only

a slipt second then

passes as the bottom

of the timepiece fills up

and becomes top once more

The Attic

i suppose for most this would be an easy choice of topic. trips up into the attic being the stuff books are written on and the memories stored in them talked about through generations. not so easy for me though.i don't remember the attic in any of the houses we lived in growing up.

i have fond memories of every house i ever lived i. there was the one with the balcony right out my bedroom. the one where i had the basement bedroom with my bed frame built right onto the wall. the one with the long straight staircase we would slide down by sitting inside sleeping bags. the one where my gramma passed away and the only room the flowers she tended would grow were her old room even though they grew anywhere before then. the one with the big fish tank built right into the wall as you went down the entrance staircase.

my earliest memories come from the house on 16th and dunbar in vancouver. the house belonged to my paternal grandparents and my parents bought it after grandpa passed and nana moved into an apartment on 10th. the house was 3 levels and im sure it had an attic but i surely wasn't allowed in it. there are parts of the house i don't clearly remember, i was 6 when we moved out.

I remember my room it was on the top floor to the right as you came to the top of the stairs. a pitched roof gave me a ceiling i could touch even at 3 or 4 years of age. the window overlooked the back yard and the neighbours big walnut tree across the alley. i even remember teaching my brother to shout cuss words out the window. little did i know mom could hear us. ouch that ass whoopin hurt.

I remember the entrance hall at the front of the house had one of those big victrola radio phonograph units that faced into the living room. that old green wing back couch and chair would be in fashion today. the year dad bought mom an austin mini for christmas i remember sitting on the couch patiently waiting for mom to find the last of her treasure hunt clues. the key to the car was on the window ledge and the car was on the front lawn with a big bow tied around it. that front window used to get hit by birds every summer that would eat the poison berries growing on the tree in the front yard.

the basement was where we spent alot of our time there was a rumpus room there and all the toys and personal belongings of a toddler were confined to this room. i remember the night i slept down there cause the firemen were upstairs trying to get the couch out the front window. someone had dropped a cigarette and it had smoldered until the house was full of toxic smoke. the dog stayed down in the basement at all times if he wasn't in the back yard. his name was puddles and he was appropriately named for what he left all over the concrete floor when he wasn't let out in time. we didn't have him long. mom had great huge wash tubs that i think she spent most of her life over washing out cloth diapers.

the kitchen was typical for a home build in the 50's if not earlier and the back door led out to a porch not big enough for two people to stand in that was enclosed in glass and had another door (screen i think) that led down the wooden back rickety steps. there was lawn and flowers and shrubs the shed with god knows what in it i wasn't allwed in there either and the garage.

the garage was my attic. the place i would go and play and hide. there were all the things in there a child now would be kept from playing with. old rusty car parts and an old fridge with the door still on junk and old jars and boxes full of what i have long since forgotten. there was an old couch in there that we jumped on and played it was our couch. i spent many hours there playing with my little brother or the neighbours kids or my imaginary friends. I always caught hell for playing in there but it was my sanctuary and the best part was it was only mere feet form the edge of the property. freedom was only a few footsteps away but since i wasn't allowed off the lot the garage was as close to it as i could get. I recall now a sense of comfort and peace at even such a young age at the idea of having a place like that to run too when i was in trouble or scared. knowing that until they realized thats where i was i would be left alone and could feel my emotions without someone asking what was wrong.

i miss my garage.

dream interpretation

i see coming up with unique ideas for this site could be a little more difficult than i first thought. i have decided to use a dream interpretation book that i have to chose random topics when no other topic comes to mind. i think it will add an element to my blog that most don't have... random thought.

i will open the book and the first word i focus on will be my topic.

griddle cakes.... oh good lord maybe this idea wasnt a good one...

round and golden brown fluffy and coated in melted butter with a touch of lemon juice and icing sugar sprinkled on top...yummy.

first time i ever ate them this way i was about staying at a freinds house from high school. her parents were german and barely spoke english. i had gone to her house for the weekend as she lived about an hour from the school on a farm in the mennonite community.

can you say culture shock. cindy had warned me what i would be exposed to but i thought there was no way it could be as she said it was so close to a major city. man was i wrong. they had a farm of about 15 acres with cows everywhere and i being under exposed to the different coloured collars in life had never seen a cow pie much less had to walk through a field of them to feed livestock.

the corner store was really a very tiny shack with a shingle that said canada post on it with the meager hours hanging from another shingle below it. the store charged a fortune for potatoe chips but you could get eggs and milk for trade.

I felt as if i had been transplanted to the 40's. truth is in effect i had been and if you know anything about the mennonite religion you know exactly what im talking about. in my fashion clothing and modest jewllery i stood out like a sore thumb. my hair was long and flowing out behind me as we walked back to the farm. my shorts and tank top a stark contrast to the other ladies we passed who were in school marm dresses hair tied back restrictively with no accessories at all.

the farm house was beautiful a dream home really with the nooks and crannies i have come to love as an adult with ocd. cindy had a loft bedroom with a bay window bench seat covered in pillows and the room was modestly decorated. she had many books and few extras. our mutual love of reading in homeroom class was what had initiated our friendship. we talked and giggled over boys into the early morning hours then drifted off into slumber to dream about our crushes.

morning came early when cindy's mother woke us at dawn to start chores. it was probably early december and there was fresh snow on the ground. a blessing to me as it meant i couldn't see what i was walking in. chickens, cows and horses fed we headed up to the house to see if we could help with breakfast.

cindy's parents were sitting round the kitchen table doing what parents usually do on a sunday morning. her parents were lovely people. her mother a tall slender beautiful woman with a grace i know now was rare for a farmers wife. cindys dad was definately the head of the house hold and ruled his girls with a firm regimented kindness only the german can portray.

helping to set the table her parents asked me a barrage of questions all of which i answered under duress and intimidation. this lifestyle was too different i didn't know what etiquette was proper and was afraid my answers would cause cindys parents to consider me a poor influence. i must have done alright with my answers as the questions ceased the moment we sat down to breakfast.

cindy moved away before the end of the school year. Turns out her dad didn't just farm he was also a big business man and the firm he worked for moved him to venezuala. I lost track of her a few months later when we both got too busy with exams and boys to find the time to pen pal.

everytime I have griddle cakes coated in melted butter with a touch of lemon juice and icing sugar sprinkled on top, i think of cindy and that weekend and how i learned from her frienship that apperances weren't always what they seemed and that they were inconsequential to the big picture.

a humourous blog

one of my best friend's lives in a blog... she might shoot me but those of you who know me know her so i'm sure she can deal.

enjoy her musings.... i recommend starting at the beginning

http://coopymail.blogspot.com/

Tadpoles

ya know im quite sure it can't be easy being green.

on a trip to a lake recently there was tadpoles all along the shore something i have never seen in my 33 years of life.

i am a city girl born and raised and transplanted here by my husband about 10 years ago. i have balked and avoided the laid back country life as much as i can but with 3 boys who are now all at the age that lakes and streams and hunting are fun things to do it seems they expect me to tag along.

picture this if you will... we have gone to the big city of prince george for the day and are on our way home. it has to be damn near 90 degrees outside im dressed in a sun dress my mother bought in hawaii in the 60s. its floor length and backless. i love this dress and do not have a chance to wear it often because it is polyester weighs a few pounds and was not really made for summer weather more like hawaiian autumn evenings.

hubby decides he wants to check out a lake not far off the beaten path on the way home to which i reply with rolled eyes staring out the window praying to god above that there is a fallen tree on this logging road. if you have never traveled a logging road in a beat up pick up in the middle of summer with no a/c take it from this silver spooned city girl, mark it off as done on your list and save yourself the trouble.

left turn onto logging road just as i suspected ... this road hasn't seen a grader in 10 years pot holes and mud puddles that always frighten me cause you never know how deep they are gonna be. in we go about 3 miles that feel like 20 and take just as long theres the lake. pristine and blue surrounded by trees most city folk can only see in preserved park grounds. i admit its gorgeous from the truck and as usual the sound of nature around us is calming.

now we are here to check out this lake for future fishing adventures so its a trip in a trip out right? hell no... out come the rods and my attitude as they decide they just want to cast a few before we go. by now i have to pee ... remember the dress ... no way im peeing in this thing i can't get out from under the skirt of it and its a nice dress im seeing grass and gravel everywhere i look.

out of the truck i get no point in sitting like a pheasant under glass in this heat. ok those of you with weak stomachs skip this paragraph. ... you had your chance. on the ground under my feet as i step out of the truck is a a rabbit's foot. now i know they are supposed to be lucky but this poor rabbit had no luck at all as the only thing left of him was a meatless carcass... can ya say ewwwww. ok im in the wild i can handle this course now im looking for signs of bears and cougars and wolves and god knows what else lives around here that would eat me as soon as a rabbit.

i head towards the shore passing the dead crow still fully feathered thank the lord coudn't have handled two in 2 min. lord knows what killed this hubby said maybe someone with a pellet gun. i understand his reasoning as i walk towards the shore there is the sign of teenage parties everywhere. broken glass fire pits old car parts you know the stuff kids feel they have no use for on a friday or saturday night. course by now im thinking hmmm so much for the close up view.

i get to the shore and look down ... ewwwwwwwww what the hell are those i scream as i jump back about 10 feet thinking i just found a leech farm of some kind. my 11 yr old son obviously wiser than me starts laughing. im still staring and hubby is casting as he says what? I dare another look and the shore is covered in what can only be called black slime. its not actually on the shore but right on the water line.

hubby chuckles and says tadpoles ya goof.

OH! how cool!

back track to my childhood for a min. every other weekend as a kid we would go camping at a little campground in Lynden Washington and there was 3 lakes there. friday and saturday nights after long days of swimming, riding, running, playing, and spending parental money in the arcades we would hunt frogs and toads. there were hundreds of them on these man made lakes and with a flash light and butterfly net we could catch at least 20 a night. we did this for 10 years every other weekend and for 2 full weeks every summer. never in all that time had i ever seen a tadpole. i dunno why nor had i ever thought about it before. im not unintelligent i knew the process of frog development i just never considered the fact that the frogs weren't always there ya know.

so my frustration, full bladder and the effect this mud is going to have on my dress cast aside i bend down to get a closer look. eeeewww these are neat. I am 8 again. i grab a stick and poke at them. ewwwwwwww look at them moving. i start asking 100 questions. im sure hubby thinks i have lost my mind but really i have returned to childhood innocence.

there has to be 10,000 of these things right in the area we are in and this lake is huge im thinking man the frogs round here must be loud. hubby tells me most won't live thanks to birds and fish eating them.

I reach down ... i have to know ... im creeped out ... im curious ... this is gross ... this is awesome ... my hand touches the water ... they scatter ... i scoop em up ... at least 40 in my hands ... im fascinated.

they aren't slimey well no more than the water makes them be. if ya look close you can see their eyes forming. i wonder like a child if i can pop one out of its tadpole skin and see inside it. my adult me tells me thats cruel and unusual punishment, i put them back in the water. they are swimming away now in schools like fishies do.

i go to another family of em and do it again. same process same curiosity same adult reasoning down they go. i do this for at least 20 min and as each school settles back in its original home i start again. i don't care that they are fishing any more and i don't need to pee. my dress hems are blackened with lake mud but i don't give a damn im playing like a child in the shallow water with the tadpoles.

like the child i once was i soon tire of the tadpoles and im ready to go home. i head back to the truck and grumble im ready to go as i come back to the age of 33 with a child like smile on my face. that was neat i think as i walk past the dead carcasses of the crow and rabbit and crawl back up into the truck.

as we finally pull away from the lake and back onto the logging road built to make me wish i had peed in the bushes i can't help think to my self...

It aint easy being green... when the humans poke at ya and pick ya up outta the water before you can breathe air and then drop ya back in from 2 feet above shore level....