Sometimes on the way to your dream,

you get lost and find a better one.

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Thursday Thoughts # 89

from Waging War by April White:
"It is as though my purpose for living was just torn out of the book and I don't know what happens next."

"We take what happened and we make ourselves into people we can look at in mirrors without flinching."

from Days of Blood and Starlight by Laini Taylor:

"Perhaps Fate laid out your life for you like a dress on a bed, and you could either wear it or go naked."

from Dreams of Gods and Monsters by Laini Taylor:

"And he could catch her hand across the table just to hold it, and they could talk, and discover each other layer by layer."

Today's Thought:

discover each other layer by layer.

This is something I've only ever read about in books. 
Someone meets their soulmate or the love of their life or maybe they just grow up with their best friend and they know everything there is to know about each other. 
They talk and tell their secrets and fears, their hopes and dreams. 
They talk, listen, understand. Laugh together, cry together, grow together. Inseparable.

For me, this is a frightening thought.
I don't know anyone so well that I know all about them; certainly no one knows everything there is to know about me.

Do I even have layers? Or is each layer discarded and forgotten as I grow past it?
If there are layers, do I want to open them up?
Why would I want to open them up? 

Surely things I thought and did when I was five, ten, fifteen, couldn't possibly be worth telling about? Even if I could remember those days properly. 

I've seen families who are close; even if they are states/countries apart, the connection is there. 
Friends too, who grew up together, went their own ways, yet stayed in touch and remain steadfast friends no matter what. Always there for each other.
Sometimes I envy them. Most of the time I'm just happy for them, but knowing that I don't need that closeness. 
But if I don't need it, why the occasional envy? 


Wednesday, May 25, 2016

looking for specific music

I'm searching for an instrumental piece I remember from the seventies, (I think), it has keyboard, guitar and drums, maybe other instruments, I can't be sure; the opening sound is similar to a lonely train whistle. 
Note I said "similar to", not "is".

I have no idea who the band is or what the piece is called.
All I really remember is I like it a lot.

But if anyone can help me find it, I would be grateful. and I could purchase it from I-tunes to add to my playlist.
I've been wading through long lists of instrumentals on you tube without success :(

Whimsical Wednesday # 228

Welcome back to Whimsical Wednesday!

The day for your googled giggle that gets you over the hump that is Wednesday and sliding down into the weekend.

this is a great way to wait for a bus!

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

the voices in my head (nothing menacing here)

from Dreams of Gods and Monsters, by Laini Taylor:

"My wife likes to say that the mind is a palace with rooms for many guests. Perhaps the butler takes care to install the delegates of Science in a different wing from the emissaries of Faith, let they take up arguing in the passages.


So, the voices in my head. 
There's one that pops up now and again and says," there hasn't been any chocolate around here for a while. When are you going to buy some chocolate?"
He's easy to ignore.

The other one works on things more readily accessible. 
"There's vanilla ice cream in the freezer," he says. 
"It's cool, creamy, sweet and delicious. Why don't you have some? It's hours until dinner."

"Cool?" I said. "Cool?"

"Okay, okay'" he says. "It's icy cold and will freeze the roof of your mouth, but everything else I said is true."


Dammit, he was right. It DID freeze the roof of my mouth.

Monday, May 23, 2016

Musical Monday # 101



Musical Monday

I was introduced to Musical Monday by Delores who copied the meme from another site.
I think it’s a fun way to show off some of the music we like and brighten up our Mondays at the same time. 

I’ll be finding my clips on you tube, so will simply credit that site since there are often so many versions of everything and I wouldn’t want to accidentally credit the wrong artist.

Today’s clip is: Bob Seger



Old Time Rock and Roll


and the lyrics, just in case you don't remember them.

Sunday, May 22, 2016

Sunday Selections # 277



Welcome back to Sunday Selections!

This once-a- week-meme was originally begun by Kim of Frog Ponds Rock, as a way to showcase some of the many photos we all take, but don't get around to showing on our blogs.

The rules are very simple:-
1. post photos of your choice, old or new, under the Sunday Selections title
2. link back to me, River, somewhere in your post
3. leave me a comment so that I know you've joined in and can come over and see what you've posted.
4. hop on over to Elephant’s Child to see more of her wonderful photos.

I usually go with a theme for my Sunday Selections and this week we're back at the beach.

now there's a handy sign!

the miniature train line which runs from Semaphore Beach to Fort Granville, goes right past Noonies Cafe.

there it is, heading to Semaphore. It's a single track; the train goes all the way, stops for a few minutes so people can stretch their legs, take photos etc, then runs back.

part of the enclosed playground next to the cafe. In summer this depression is filled with water and little children slide down the slippery dip (slide) to splash down into the water.

the other end of the same playground.

one of the taller mounds of seaweed

there's those waves again.

a water run-off channel etched into the sand

a pale blue sky break in the grey cloud blanket.

seaweed and a shell, a cowrie I think.

and a conch? these are small, not longer than my thumb.

looks like coral? but soft and spongy.

some of the seaweed was in pretty colours

I've never seen one of these so black before,

and it has a neat little porthole so the occupant could see out :)

a bit blurry, but lacy and pretty.

and a bright orange something-or-other.

this lovely twisted shell,

had a live occupant, see it there beginning to emerge from the twist as I held it?

here he is almost all the way out. I didn't want to just put him back and let the seagulls eat him, so I threw the shell back into the ocean. Possibly that was the wrong thing to do, but I like to think I saved a tiny piece of marine life.

seaweed and just three of the dozens of seagulls out foraging.

I like the look of this type of weed; no idea what it is.

this is the one I've always called sea grapes, although I was never foolish enough to eat one.

let's finish with a small oyster shell, covered in many other small shells, but there was no pearl inside. I cleaned this one and brought it home, it looks so interesting.


























Friday, May 20, 2016

Wednesday's Words on a Friday



On Wednesdays, assorted people have been taking monthly turns at putting up a selection of six (or twelve) words which is called “Words for Wednesday”.
We have taken over this meme from Delores, who had been having computer problems.

This month the meme continues here, with words supplied by Mark Koopmans.
Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.   

Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or images.   What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  We would really like it if as many people as possible joined in with this fun meme.
If you are posting on your own blog - let us know so that we can come along and read your masterpiece.
 
I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.
It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?

This week's words are:

1. wallow
2. spindle
3. bratwurst
4. knees
5. Trinidad
6. Victoria's Secret

and/or

1. Disney
2. emojis
3. fashionista
4. carpool
5. slug
6. languishing

and/or

1. deity
2. ebonics
3. slashed
4. Reebok
5. holder
6. knockers 

Here is my story:

I'd worked hard to be able to come here, to be a model for the Victoria's Secret catalogues, and it had been such fun at first. I still remembered the shocked expression on Miss Johnson's face, how her eyes had popped wide and her jaw dropped open when Daddy had said roughly, "you can pretty it up anyway you please, it's still just a holder for her knockers." Miss Johnson, with her prim posture, had almost fainted away with Daddy's words; probably the heat had something to do with that too. She had come all the way from New York to help me plead my case. 

I'd been at college when an unknown someone had spotted me, introduced himself as George, and asked if I wouldn't mind having a few pictures taken, he'd send them back to his office and his boss would be in contact very soon. "George" was convinced I "got what it takes, baby!" I could be a model. I'd heard stories of girls falling for this line and paying all their savings for photo shoots then never hearing anything more about it, so I wasn't entirely convinced, but the seed had been sown. Me? A model? 

Anyway, George had been a legitimate spotter and I'd soon found myself spending far more time on location than in college, modelling the latest styles in clothing and shoes along with several other young girls. Not one of us was even twenty, Jolene was only 17 and had been plucked right out of highschool! 
Her mother had dollar signs where her eyes should be! 

Then it was summer and the clothes had been exchanged for swimsuits, locations had been exchanged for airconditioned rooms, filled with sand and umbrellas, so none of us would get sunburnt or develop (oh the horror) tan lines. Having to wear different styles of swimwear meant tan lines were absolutely forbidden. Then a Miss Johnson had stood by one day while the photographer kept up his patter, "look up, turn, smile", and so on; we could feel her judging us and during our break Mary-Ellen whispered that she was a spotter for Victoria's Secret. Mary-Ellen had been doing this job much longer than the rest of us, almost two years, and thought of herself as quite the Fashionista, never wearing anything that wasn't the latest style. 

We'd carpooled back to our apartment building that day, Jolene, Chrissy and me, and as we climbed the stairs to our adjacent apartments, (Jolene and Chrissy shared the apartment to my left), once again I wondered if I should spend a bit extra and get myself a nicer place to live. I was tired of this narrow staircase with it's constant smell of cabbage and bratwurst from the German family living one floor below me. Perhaps if I fell to my knees and pleaded with every deity known to man, the Germans would move out? But then I'd still be stuck with the narrow winding staircase; on the other hand, climbing all these stairs everyday was good for the figure, my hips and thighs were slim and firm. 

The next day, I'd had a phone call from Miss Johnson. She wanted me to try out at the next photo shoot for the next Victoria's Secret catalogue. I'd been so excited and had run squealing with joy to Jolene and Chrissy's apartment, only to be met with disappointed faces, they hadn't received any such call themselves. They were pleased for me, they said, but their disappointment was filling the small kitchen, so I left them to go and pack a bag for my trip to the Victoria's Secret Head Office. The trip was three days away, but I wanted to be prepared when Miss Johnson came for me. 

Miss Johnson had been a Victoria's Secret model herself, but was now considered too old, although she was still very slim (too slim, I thought, with her legs looking more like spindles), she'd been told that her butt was sagging and her breasts no longer perky enough to be modelling teddies and bra&knicker sets. But they'd kept her on as she was very good at spotting new talent. 

At the tryout photo shoot, I'd learned "the cameras loved me and I could go far in this business". Well, I'd heard that before, it's why I'd left college, but this was a new level of excitement. I was soon in the office discussing contracts, hours, payments and when I mentioned my family lived in Trinidad and I'd have to go back there to get Daddy's signature, they flew me back with Miss Johnson as chaperone and to help me convince Daddy this was a good move. Trinidad was a shock to Miss Johnson, the heat and humidity just about knocked her off her feet, but she rallied her inner strength and we went to speak to Daddy. 

We found him wallowing in his hammock in the shade of the lanai, cool lemonade by his side, feet in the air as he admired the new Reeboks I'd sent him recently. After the initial "holder for her knockers" statement, Daddy had behaved himself and after hashing out many of the finer points of the contract, he'd signed the paper, learned that Miss Johnson's name was Emily, she'd grown up within coo-ee of Disneyland and would most likely be at every photo shoot I'd be attending. Daddy assumed she'd be chaperoning me and I let him keep thinking that; in reality Miss Johnson would be looking at the crowds behind the rope barriers, searching for 'new talent'. 

Life had been fun after that for quite a while. I'd done several hundred photo shoots, had appeared in dozens of catalogues and made lots of money. 
Yet here I was, languishing like a slug on the balcony of my fabulous apartment, thinking back to my days next door to Jolene and Chrissy; back to my childhood in Trinidad and realising that I'd become tired.
Daddy was getting old now, I was heading towards thirty myself, with nothing to show for it but a large bank balance and a wardrobe of incredible clothes. My older brothers had married long ago and I had a slew of nieces and nephews that I rarely saw.

I wanted to go home.