Apropos of nothing
Susanne Fletcher is a yellow-toothed, grey-haired old woman whose ancestors include a bald-headed bullshitter, an apple pie scented soothsayer, an itinerant ukulele teacher and a lips-sucked-in recriminator. She holds degrees buried in wrinkle canyons carved around her mouth and eyes. When not napping or showering to minimize old lady smell or reading grocery store fliers and clipping coupons, she reads literary journal contributor pages and writes mocking bios that exceed the 50 word limit.
Now its your turn. What would your 50 word (more or less) bio say?
Suzy-Q doughnuts of Ottawa – Top left – The Roughrider; Top right – Carrot cake doughnut; bottom – chocolate truffle doughnut.
The glasscutter call of a chickadee breaks
open the day with continuous song
while I gulp coffee and serious list-make. Continue reading
Chocolate quinoa cake
The first piece of chocolate quinoa cake I ate was at a fancy restaurant where main course portions were the size of Canada’s largest coins – loonies and toonies. Lunch arrived prettily set on a silent white plate with scribbles of coulis of some sort. You know the stuff – pureed parsnip essence or a reduction of Brussels sprout hearts and maybe a shake of smoked paprika. Way off on the northern hemisphere of the plate a single perfect candied walnut emerged from its shell, like a sailor adrift in the arctic ocean, considering his options as the icy sea begins to crush his vessel. Because food tells a story and the chef wants you to listen to what the food has to say. That kind of place. Continue reading
Oaken and frozen
You don’t hear his command,
so he delivers a bitter reprimand
and takes you down with a hard smack.
He teaches you a lesson with a whack
to the knee, a stab in your low back. Continue reading
When I shared my impressions of childhood living with an alcoholic father with a friend – memories of a five year old – he said that my memories predated a cognitive understanding of my father’s behaviour. I bristled. It was as though my memories were irrelevant because I lacked dates, context, and the cognitive ability to connect the dots.
Did you do “dot to dot” puzzles as a child? I remember doing them as far back as kindergarten. Teachers used them as a way to teach numbers. The easiest ones were from 1-10 and the resulting pictures were simple. There were no details in the final image, just a big shape, like a ball, or an outline of a cat’s head or a house. But its spare lines still told everything you needed to know. The same way kids know when something is off kilter without understanding why. Continue reading
People’s lives, in Jubilee as elsewhere, were dull, simple, amazing and unfathomable – deep caves paved with kitchen linoleum.
Alice Munro – Lives of Girls and Women
One of the reasons I love blogging is for the chance to peek in the windows of other people’s lives and so this Alice Munro quote seems apt in the context of the blogosphere. During Just Jot It January I met some new people writing on WordPress and would like to introduce you to them. Maybe you’ll enjoy looking through their curtains, too. Continue reading
The food of my people was fried, gravied, stewed and jelloed. Don’t get me wrong. I liked it all, especially deep fried halibut. Continue reading
I’ll tell you
that belly swelling
moon silk skin
stretched so thin
a tiny hand waves
at you – you lunatic –
moonlit nirvana under
a blue moon, a wolf
Photo credit: Farmers’ Almanac
Just Jot It January: Fantastic