On her farm in Normandy, France, Julia McLean feeds lambs, evaluates rams, and takes the modern-day shepherdess life in good stride.
Not Your Average Wedding: Part I
There are few days we considered more significant or laden with emotion than wedding days. But what happens when the bride gets chicken pox? Does the show go on?
Good Time Charlie
I am looking for rocks of cocaine. I’m broke and getting broker, and all I want to do is get high. There is Jack telling me some fairy tale and watching me do this, just like two regular guys on a Saturday afternoon, just folks, sittin’ on the stoop, looking out at the neighborhood, talking football or jazz.
In Other News, Sorry About Your Grandmother
…I live in fear of the sorry-about-your-grandma pause. In fact, I’m so afraid of it am I that until very recently, I attempted to avoid the pause altogether. If a friend came to me with heavy emotional troubles, I would give them all the hugs they needed, and sit there gazing soulfully at them, afraid to speak. If they talked, they talked; otherwise, it became an emotional staring contest. And I played to win.
Savasana Mouse
Nathan Thompson shares an incident during a yoga class that perfectly illustrates just how much the mind the mind likes to make up stories — the bigger the better — to explain what we don’t understand.
National Frickin’ Pride
This actually happened to me while waiting for a 155 bus on 6th St here in New Westminster, British Columbia. There is a notable Anglo-Saxon word beginning with ‘F’ which played a large part in the dialogue. Since this is a family blog, I’ve rendered that ancient and well-traveled word of Germanic (ig)nobility with some […]
Character Flaws
I’m a sucker for anything with “character.” You know, one of those people that real estate agents market “charming” properties too. Also, the type that buys a new lipstick simply because its packaging is just so darn beautiful. And last but not least, the buyer of highly impractical, but terribly cute shoes.
The Long, Slow Summers of Youth
The children of summer, the children we once were, don’t read or watch or worry about the weather, they wear it in their skin. Skin wet with a recent shower, or glowing red from a little too much lazing in the sun, it matters not to them. For what these kids have is not only time, as in available hours, but the time of their lives.
Scribbling After Midnight
We were sitting in the Drenched Beagle in Vancouver when a guy from the bar asked me, “Where are we?” “Here.” I said. Later he asked, “What time is it?” “Now,” I said.
Breaking Routines — My Night with a Burlesque Dancer
I recently decided to shake up my routines a bit. I’ve gone to different social events. I’ve taken a course or two. I attended WordCamp Victoria 2010 at which I got excited about blogging.
And, then there was the night I spent with a burlesque dancer.
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