online dating

Can I show you "where to look among the garbage and the flowers?"

I am watching a Leonard Cohen special on tonight. Leonard Cohen reminds me of Quebec. What a time! New friends, passion, hours of talk and debate, art and philosophy in the cocoon of our little part of a perfect little city. Quebec city. Catch your breath on the romantic. Yes. Around every corner I would revel, in awe, walking from one cafe to the next. Always a treasure found when walking amongst the cobbled hilly streets in and out of the old city. Our old apartment was furnished upon such gifts. Crunchy snow, red cheeks. Snow. I think I may have seen a newspaper dating ad in Montreal while visiting the city to go to Leonard Cohen on a rainy night with my friend Terry. All those years ago, dating through the newspaper would have been the format, had I participated. It was an alien thing.


Today? I would just say my boiled down or coulis version...

online is to dating just as mall is to shopping.

Now I don't know about you, but I can't breathe in shopping malls.

All would be grand if only my inability to breath in shopping malls was due to being drunk on the never ending nectar...

like my bee friend in my photo above.

new beginnings...

Ok, so yes, it has been literally years since I posted anything on this lovely bloggeroooo.... that is now remedied!
Ta Da!!!

Today is a lovely crisp autumn day... cool weather so great for walking...and talking....jogging... thinking.
I love autumn!

I will post something more substantive soon... I just wanted to get my fingers working again on this blog...

done.

good day to you sweet readers!

PG

Newest Shoe!!

I'm told this would go well with my Halloween costume: a maid's outfit.... hmmmmm
I ended up giving these to my sister as they were just a tad too small... lucky sis huh?

Postsecret.com

this is my fave... what can I say?

Shells

Shells, yes we all have them... some of us more obvious than others... some hard... some soft... some cracked...some open... some iridescent... with soft rainbow colours swirling in the light... some are grooved and marked, washed by the waves of life... but inside our shells, one and all, we hold something delicate, vulnerable and intimate... and when we share this little something of ourselves.. it is delicious.

New Boots

... how pleased I am with them too!

Ahh the joys of the wooden roller coaster!!!!

My Great-grandmother Poonoo

...yes, this is a very old photo of my great-grandmother Poonoo, taken on the porch of her home in northern saskatchewan. She was my father's mother's mother. She had 18 children and eventually lost her lower legs...yet that did not stop her. She kept her home and was pulled around in a small wagon when she was out and about. She smoked a pipe and brought a piano up north on a canoe. Yes, that one seems crazy, but I have learned that the more crazy of my father's stories are often true. He also tells me she was called the "Mother of the North". She was born in Lac Brochet, Manitoba. Her maiden name was Tawipisim, which means half sun ie the sun was only half in the sky. No wonder I love sunsets and sunrises so much. As for resemblances, I do know I have her hands.

Oma, as painted by my Tante Willy

...yes, this is a painting of my Oma, as painted by my Tante Willy, in Amsterdam. It is based on a lovely old black and white photo taken when my Oma was a young woman in Holland. I never met her. She died when my mother was a child. My Tante (auntie) Willy took some liberties here... by painting in some make up. There is another photo I love of her, which I will scan when I can get my neice's help... of Oma on a motorcycle! Apparently there is some family resemblance. Hmmm...

The Questiona poem by Pablo Neruda

Love, a question
has destroyed you.

I have come back to you
from thorny uncertainty.

I want you straight as
the sword or the road.

But you insist
on keeping a nook
of shadow that I do not want.

My love,
understand me,
I love all of you,
from eyes to feet, to toenails,
inside,
all the brightness, which you kept.

It is I, my love,
who knocks at your door.
It is not the ghost, it is not
the one who once stopped
at your window.
I knock down the door:
I enter all your life:
I come to live in your soul:
you can not cope with me.

You must open door to door,
you must obey me,
you must open your eyes
so that I may search in them,

you must see how I walk
with heavy steps
along all the roads
that, blind, were waiting for me.

Do not fear,
I am yours,
but
I am not the passenger or the beggar,
I am your master,
the one you were waiting for,
and now I enter
your life,
no more to leave it,
love, love, love,
but to stay.