I think wild animals, as well as the domesticated ones, have me figured out as soon as they see me. Take for instance, this young deer that crossed my path this morning. Well, he didn’t exactly crossed my path, the deer was actually in someone’s garden, happily nibbling his way across the buffet of blooms.  I was passing by, on the other side of a low rock wall. At seeing wildlife so close, I whipped out my senior phone and fumbled for the camera setting.  The deer didn’t even lose a beat chewing and munching—he just stared at me as if to say, “Well for Pete’s sakes–hurry up and take the darn picture so I can move over there where there’s even tastier stuff.”  Hubby always told me it’s not what a person say, but the attitude delivering it. He was right. These darn deer have the attitude thing nailed.  When Hubby and I were returning from the Village, across the street from our condo building, two young deer crossed at the pedestrian cross walk with the walk sign flashing.  They then leaped over the rock wall of my building and proceeded to munch their way around the garden–probably their version of a delectable lunch date.

Last week, I encountered a deer, ambling across the road to get to a corner lot where there had been some clearing of brush and trees. I swear this deer knew I was trying to get a decent photo with my senior cellphone. It actually posed–first, turning his head this way and then turning his head that way. I assumed this deer didn’t play poker as his expression plainly showed his disgust at how slow this human was in aiming for a good photograph. While I was still adjusting my camera, the deer turned completely around, showing me his butt-end, which came out perfectly framed and focused on my cellphone’s camera.

When Hubby and I had our little house some years ago, the deer were beginning to invade civilization, but not to the extent the deer invasion has taken place now. I remember coming home and turning onto our street. A young deer had wandered over to the house across the street from us, peeked into the living room window and satisfying itself that no one was home, proceeded to eat our neighbour’s prized roses.  See, it’s all in the attitude.

My area also has lots of dogs. And trust me, dogs have attitudes too. Some dogs are scrappers and barkers. Usually these are the tiny ones. The smaller the dogs, the more feisty and confrontational they seem. And, the bigger the dog, these frisky scrappers are in their element, tossing down their challenge. I love the attitudes of the huge dogs like the St. Bernard or the Newfoundland Bouvier. One swipe of their front paw would be enough to knock a yapper into the next county. But you have to admire their restraint because the look they give is absolutely priceless. It’s as if they say, “Tone it down, Junior and give some respect or I’ll knock you silly.”  The look, just like the parental looks we got as kids, worked too. The noisy “fuzz-ball” instantly quieted until the ginormous dog ambled past and almost out of sight before the gleeful yapper began again.

Cats are notorious for attitude. A cat can out-stare its human and show a range of expressions that its owner know does not bode well, especially if the human left the cat alone for most of the day. The cat’s posture manifests a territorial boldness that reminds their owners exactly who the real Boss of their domain is. Owners develop a deep sense of guilt when they get that look from their feline room-mate.

Again, it’s all attitude and in the animal kingdom, attitude is alive and well.

From time to time, I like to share what books and/or magazines I have on my bedside table. As most of my friends know, I do have very eclectic tastes—and it usually depends on my mood. Am I looking for an exciting blood and guts thriller or a gentle cosy or a hot romance or an exhilarating sci-fi? How about a good ol’ western or the intrigues of a historical drama? At some point or other, I have had all of these and more—AND yes, I have slept like a babe after reading them.

I have always been a fan of Robert B. Parker and mourned when he suddenly passed away in 2010. But the Robert B. Parker Estate had other ideas and passed the continuity and creativity of his private investigator, Spenser, to Ace Atkins, a famous writer himself. To be able to take over someone else’s character is not as easy as it sounds. The writer has to make Spenser sound the same with that distinctive speech pattern and off-beat humour, his comfort style, his beautiful Susan, his loyal friend and “weapon”, Hawke, as well as all the other characters he calls upon for information or support.  Ace Atkins has succeeded. I would know as Atkins has written 6 Spenser books and I have read all of them.  Ace Atkins is Robert B. Parker. I thoroughly enjoyed “Old Black Magic,” by Ace Atkins as it had all the ingredients that loyal readers like.  Best of all, “Old Black Magic” is Spenser, older but as tenacious and likeable as always.

James Rollins has never disappointed. His previous book, “Kill Switch,” co-authored with Grant Blackwood, introduced the close working and non-working relationship between Captain Tucker Wayne and his Belgian Malinois army dogs, Kane and Abel. In this second book, “War Hawk,” Wayne and Kane have retired from the army, trying to settle into a peaceful civilian life and dealing with the loss of Abel. When a former army colleague asks for his help, he and Kane face the newest threat in the 21st century—information.  And the biggest threat will be the utilization of new technology that sifts through all the collected useless information and extracts the mother-lode of useful bits. James Rollins and Grant Blackwood have written another exciting thriller that is believable in the 21st century: wars are changing; control of power is understanding and using the intricacies of technology. The scary enemies will be relentless drones, built for death and destruction.  “War Hawk” was another page turner that was difficult to put down.

I have long been a “Jack Reacher” fan, the solitary modern vagabond created by Lee Child. As all fans know, Reacher is a large 6 feet plus, muscle-bound male who has seen a lot of what humans can do to each other, in his journey criss-crossing the United States. A recent Lee Child book, “No Middle Name,” is a complete collection of Jack Reacher short stories–the earliest written in 1999 titled “James Penney’s New Identity.” The others were written over the years with the newest short story, “Too Much Time,” written in 2017.  Each story finds Reacher at different phases of his life, as a young man, Army career and eventually retired army officer, hitch-hiking his way around the country. Perhaps his years working in the Military Police has honed his observations and sense of justice, but one thing is certain, Reacher can hear the lies before they are uttered.

James Patterson is a prolific writer and in recent years have paired with other writers. “Haunted” is no exception.  Written by Patterson and James O. Born, “Haunted” delves into Michael Bennett’s worst nightmare for any parent. Escaping to the quiet idyllic life in a small town in Maine, he hopes to give his family and himself a holiday. But at the request of a colleague, he finds himself involved in the disappearance of several young teens, the discovery of a number of grave sites and a drug problem that is as devastating in this small Maine town as it is in New York. Wondering where he has failed as a parent, “Haunted” shows that being a cop doesn’t exempt you from having a kid caught with drugs and sent to jail.  The old saying of “do the crime; pay the time” has never proved truer or more painful for the Bennett family.

After reading a number of exciting crime thrillers, I switched to something much lighter. Bailey Cates is one of my go-to authors for fun cosies. And cosies that deals with murder and food are perfect. I had read Bailey Cates “Magic and Macaroons,” before but decided to reread this entertaining story again. Katie Lightfoot, one of the co-owners of Savannah’s “Honeybee Bakery, serves up her delicious baked goods, made with some added magical charms.  When a stranger collapses on the floor of the Honeybee Bakery and mumbles something about a voodoo talisman, what can a fledgling witch do but investigate with the help of her elders, a group of experienced “charms and spells” witches.

I had recently attended a panel discussion at Victoria’s Bolen Books. It was moderated by a Canadian mystery writer, S.(Sandra)G.Wong and her fellow Sisters-in-Crime, Canada West writers, Laurie King, Marcelle Dube, Liz Freeland and Janice MacDonald. It was a very fast-paced and entertaining panel discussion as all the ladies discussed how they managed to research their respective periods and historical backgrounds for their mysteries. I bought one of S.G. Wong’s books, “Die on Your Feet,” as I was not familiar with her books. This book was set in the 1930s, in Crescent City, somewhere near L.A. Lola Starke is a private investigator hired for one job and reluctantly pressed into service for another. Crescent City is also a town with ghosts and Lola has one of her very own, a helpful ghost named Aubrey, whom she doesn’t want.  “Die on Your Feet” launched the first of the Lola Starke mysteries.  I liked the 1930s setting and the book grabbed me from the first page to the last.  It wasn’t the blood and guts reads that I gravitate to prior to bedtime, but “Die on Your Feet,” will keep you entertained.

Ending on a lighter note, a good friend gave me my latest acquisition, a foodie book that is fabulous to dip into—not only for the terrific photography and great recipes, but also for the comments and little stories behind the food. I highly recommend Joanna Gaines “Magnolia Table.” I find this a delicious treasure to add to my collection of recipe books. Recipes such as JoJo’s Biscuits, Syrian Donuts, Dulce de Leche Apple Pie and Bevie’s Chocolate Roll as well as more serious sides and mains like Cream Corn Spoonbread, Almond Chicken Tenderloins, Fried Chicken with Sticky Poppy Seed jam and Grilled Raspberry-Chipotle Pork Tenderloin are all easy to prepare.  I am looking forward to trying many of the dishes and desserts that Joanna Gaines shares. All the recipes in “Magnolia Table” seem to be the Gaines family favourites.

I hope you will enjoy these books too. Happy Reading, Everyone!

I enjoy my walks in the early mornings because it is so quiet in those early hours with so much to see.

This Summer, with its exceptional hot weather,  has given me morning walks throughout my neighbourhood and beyond. Walking seems to slow a person down so that little things are suddenly visible; delightful surprises that  pass unnoticed when you’re driving past.  Walking takes a person down roads that promises new adventures if you’re willing to travel a new path.

On the route I chose this morning, I recorded a few of the eye-catching things that captured my attention.

One was the unexpected “Fairy Door” built into the base of an enormous oak tree that stood on the corner of a family-oriented neighbourhood. It was a nice strong door, painted red with a sturdy handle and a tiny lock.

Another surprise were the unexpected “Free Lending Libraries”–cute mini-houses built to hold books for trading. For a book-lover, these were an entertaining treasure.

I passed some beautiful creamy Day lilies, raising their faces to the morning sun.

Then I rounded the bend of the road and saw one of my favourite spots, the scenic and fragrant “Scented Gardens.”

There is a welcoming braille and printed sign that explains the Gardens are meant for a “sit and enjoy” using your 5 senses. It is created for those who have low-vision, no vision or  full-vision. It is a place to enjoy the tranquillity, scents, colours and touch of the flowers.

I decided to follow the road leading to the Marina. I knew if I followed the curve of the sea, I would find the wonderful sculpture created by Fred Dobbs called  “Ocean in Motion.” Mr. Dobbs is an internationally known sculpture who works in different medias and creates very likeable pieces.

The playful otters gracefully moved among the vegetation of the sea. In a close-up of one of the otters, Fred Dobbs captured his inquisitive nature.

Did I mention that Victoria is a city of gardens? Well, it’s true, but along with spectacular gardens, there are also a number of eye-catching garden ornaments. This one  is awesome and among my favourites as I head  home. 

I do love my early morning walks. Not a chocolate, doughnut or coffee in sight—just Mother Nature and wonderful people who share their imagination  and creative spirits with those of us who pass by.

Have you ever read a book that mentions a specific place or had a conversation and this place or word or name would pop up and a day or two later, that same place or word or name would pop up again and again?  Well, it happens to me. . .a lot.

The other day I was half listening to the radio and the morning DJ mentioned the word obsequious in describing something. Words are wonderful and this one didn’t sound complimentary.  Since I wasn’t familiar with obsequious, I looked it up in my heavy Webster’s.  To simplify, it meant grovelling, smarmy and toadying. Boy, I knew a few people like that in my working days, but that’s another story for another time. “Obsequious” popped up several times over the next few days and trust me, this is not a common word. It was used to describe an unsavory character in a short story I was reading. It was used in a food review to describe an annoying waitperson in a trendy eatery. It was used to describe a poofy chair but I’m not sure if the writer used the right adjective. Who would have thought “obsequious” was so popular?

The name “Hermione” conjures up the “Harry Potter” stories. This is not a name a person in my hometown encounters very often, if at all.  But I remember that after reading the first two books of the series, “Hermione” began popping up. The lady in charge of the local garden tours had the first name “Hermione.” My regular insurance agent was on holidays but the temporary replacement was named “Hermione.”  My neighbour had always wanted a Mini-Cooper and finally got her little car. She promptly named it,—yep, you guessed it–“Hermione.”

During the summer months—beginning with June—the main street by my home is blocked off for cars. For the next 3-4 blocks, the street becomes a “Summer Market” once a month.  Vendors come from all over Vancouver Island to set up their tents or tables for their produce, baked goods and crafted products. This Summer Market is accessible  to foot-traffic only and open to both locals and visitors.  One of my favourite vendors are the chocolatiers with their hand-crafted chocolates. One of the chocolatiers working his table,  shaded by an awning,  was a tall tan male named Julian. The local gin, whisky and crafted cottage beers were offering free samples at their tables, but seeing that I had refused, Julian enticed me over with a free sample of his chocolate. It was delicious and made from cacao beans grown in Ghana. Ghana? What happened to Belgium?  Apparently, Ghana is considered the #2 country for growing and exporting the cacao beans to other places like Belgium,  that converts the cacao beans to giant slabs of chocolate and sold to chocolatiers all over the world. Julian did his magic  and crafted a rich, dark chocolate with a creamy fudgy filling. He had many others, but by this time, I had earned my freebie chocolate as a few visitors wandered over to peruse his fabulous chocolate display. I wandered off to check out Julian’s competitors. For $2, I bought a piece of apricot, dipped in dark chocolate and named the “Julien.” Spelled slightly different but pronounced the same. And, you know what else? Further down the street, there was a local farmer displaying his bunches of radishes, baby carrots, green onions and parsley. Bags of new nugget potatoes, baskets of local blueberries, strawberries and raspberries were also on his table. As I paid for the bunch of new baby carrots, I was told it was their newest produce, the “Julienne.” Again. it’s spelled differently but pronounced the same. How many times would you have encountered this name?

I can hardly wait to see what new treasures and/or trivia I will find at the next Summer Market. Now I’ll ask you again, have you ever. . . ?

Back in the days when I was single, my group of friends and I were just starting into our chosen careers and professions. A number of us had ventured into independent living, which back then meant we were on our own and not living at home with our parents. Besides earning a living, paying rent and slaving at our new careers, we were also finding ourselves boss of our tiny domain and mastering the art of feeding ourselves.

At first, it was easy stopping at the deli or fast-food or take-out and grabbing something for dinner. I’m sure we all had a collection of favourite take-out menus near our phones.  There was also the backup option of stopping in to connect with family and taking home Mom’s version of a “doggie bag.” Eventually we all tried our hand at real cooking. A few of us knew a couple of stand-byes, thanks to our Moms.  These were the recipes that never fail. Ohers in our group learned by trial-and-error, eventually testing the “perfected” meal on eager friends, who would eat anything they didn’t have to prepare or cook.

Mike was an University of Victoria student completing his Bachelor of Science degree. He had often boasted that he had two go-to recipes that had never failed him yet and had dazzled each girlfriend-of-the-day. Impulsively, he invited the group to dinner at his place on the following Saturday, where he promised to amaze us with his culinary skills. Since we were all building our own collection of go-to failproof recipes, we enthusiastically accepted.

Mike’s place smelled heavenly. Something tomato-ey was simmering in a cauldron on his stove top. Something chocolate was baking in his oven. Wearing his oversize apron that stated in huge letters, “HUG ME, I’M THE COOK,” he ushered us into his tiny apartment.

“Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes. Help yourselves to a glass of wine and I’ll go put the finishing touches to the meal,” and grinning, he disappeared into his tiny kitchen.

Carrying an enormous bowl of pasta drenched with meat sauce to the table, Mike’s shout of “Dinner’s ready!” had us carrying our glasses of wine and nabbing a chair at his round table. Chunky pieces of hot garlic butter French bread were in the massive wicker basket. A huge container of crispy mixed greens and a platter of oven baked ribs completed the dinner. This was definitely a feast for kings or six very hungry friends. Dessert was generous squares of a  still-warm, rich, dark chocolate  brownie served with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream. In those days, none of us worried about calories or waist-lines—we just enjoyed eating our way through the entire experience.

As we relaxed after dinner on Mike’s sofa, easy chairs and carpeted floor, I remember Ellie asking him if he ever not had his go-to meals and had to improvise with the ingredients.  “What?” Mike exclaimed. “When would I not have tomato ketchup or dark chocolate in my cupboard? These are basics for any serious bachelor.”

I thought of Mike the other day. After obtaining his degree, Mike got serious, took a break and traveled to Paris. There he enrolled at the prestigious cooking institute, “Le Cordon Bleu.”  After a number of years honing his culinary skills at various well-known restaurants in Europe and Canada, Mike came back to the West Coast.

We had all kept in touch and whenever all of us were in the same place at the same time, we would get together for one of our “go-to-never-fail” group dinners. When it was Mike’s turn, our international chef never failed to produce a memorable meal:  mixed greens, lightly tossed with a lemon juice/olive oil dressing, platters of oven-baked ribs made with home-made tomato ketchup, handmade linguine with the special meat sauce, crusty chunks of  hot garlic butter French bread.  Despite his cooking for royalty, world leaders and 5-star restaurants, this was our requested meal whenever Mike cooked. It was still his “go-to-never-fail” entre and  one that drew our group together with laughter and memories of “remember when?”  Others would bring the wine and I was the designated dessert person bringing in my version of rich, still-warm, dark chocolate brownies accompanied by a tub of vanilla ice-cream.

No matter how many years passed, the strong bonds of friendship held, now including spouses and partners. I think that’s probably why, comfort food combined with family and friends, are so much a part of my life.

I admire and appreciate talent.  I have been fortunate meeting and chatting with writers who can mesmerize with their words and totally hook you into their stories. I enjoy musicians who are creative in weaving their notes on a whole new level–one that the composers never thought of doing. I appreciate artists who can dip their brushes into paint and show you an imaginary scene or object that looks so totally real.

Oak Bay Village is mere steps away from my home. For the past 3 years, the Municipality supported the arts and displayed visible, tactile art along the Avenue. There have been several that has caught the eye and piqued the curiosity. This year is no exception.

One whimsical piece is called “Busking in Town Square.” Created by a Canadian artist, Douglas Walker, it utilizes recycled musical instruments such as trombone, trumpet and sax plus teapots, urns and kettles, juggled by amusing and eccentric characters. I have to smile each time I pass by. The photo shows only a portion of the sculpture depicting Douglas’s fun with his collection of recycled objects, collected from thrift shops and scrap yards.                                         

Another beautifully sculpted piece is called “M’akhotso” meaning “Mother of Peace.”   I like it because the artist, Linda Lindsey has captured the serenity, dignity and beauty of a native woman, wearing a sarong. With her hands clasped beneath her chin, the woman balances the World on her head. Linda’s 40 years passion for sculpting is reflected in M’akhotso and her commissioned pieces found in collections across Canada and the USA. This international artist also finds time to teach and share her knowledge with students in Italy and Canada.                   .

Writers have always attracted my attention. Writers who can capture a child’s imagination are special. Little kids are particularly difficult to “hook” their minds long enough to grab their imagination. It’s like the famous “elevator chat” when a writer is trying to hook an editor or publisher before he gets off–that’s a maximum of 2 minutes. For a small child, it needs to be within 30 seconds to a minute. This book, “Why Dragons cannot Go Shopping,” written in playful, humorous rhyme by Jacqueline Rioux and illustrated with amusing, colorful pictures created by my cousin, Sandra Mar, is a book that should be on the home book-shelves  for young children. It is available on Amazon and can be ordered through your favorite bookstore. Best of all, this entertaining book can be read and re-read aloud without ever feeling jaded and weary, especially after reading it for the 999th time!

Nicola Furlong is a fantastic writer as well as a patient teacher for her craft. She has encouraged numerous new writers to persevere in her writing classes. Nicola has also taught classes in the mysteries of self-publishing. Relaxing with hockey in the winter and creating her colorful garden with its palettes of on-going, seasonal blooms the rest of the year, it seemed natural for this chocoholic writer and gardener to evolve into another field–that of artist. Below are her newest pieces—the intricate workings of her Steam Punk Art and her colorful Steam Engine. Check out Nicola’s website for more art http://www.nicolafurlong.com and also find her art on Redbubble, http://nicolafurlong.redbubble.com

My parents did their best, instilling lessons on their off-springs–lessons that would allow us to survive when we left home to be “independent.” Along the way, Life’s darn annoyances or cherry pits kept popping up. It emphasized we didn’t know everything and the route we chose would hit minor bumps when we didn’t expect any. I’ve carefully kept a list to share with you ’cause I bet you’ve encountered these too.

1. You think you’ve picked the shortest line-up at the supermarket because the lady only had 5 items on the counter. However, she thought two of the items were on sale and the cashier sent the bag-guy to check. Next, she had problems with her debit card because she punched the wrong key and had to start again; then, she hit the  wrong account so had to begin again. Finally, she couldn’t remember the correct sequence of her unbreakable 5-digit pin number because she glanced behind her and realized there was a long line of people waiting. After 15 minutes, I was still in line because my buggy load had all been put on the counter, ready to roll along eventually. . .

2.  The  pain in your_________ and  the ache in the____________ had been  an absolute pain-in-the-butt  forever. When the day of the doctor’s appointment finally arrived, this mysterious ache/pain magically disappeared.

3. This “Murphy” fellow must be a very unique individual to foil each and every “perfect plan” without even trying. Mr. Murphy seems to have the uncanny knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

4. I’d like to thank Michael Seidel (https://www.mwseidel.net/2018/04/08) for this bit of observation: “Don’t you love it when you’re parallel parked and the cars in front and behind you have each left your car 2-inches to maneuver?”. . . .I was hemmed in by two huge black SUVs and not a lot of wiggle-room. But patience, skill and probably a lot of luck got me out of there without a single scratch on any of the vehicles. My Dad would have been beaming. . .

5. That blood-and-guts book that you enjoyed is a book that your best friend hated and voted a big, fat thumbs down! He’s passed along his deep, philosophical, brain-wrenching novel for you to devour it as he did, but it’s a huge yawn for you after the first 5 pages.

6. The rule of the household is to replace the toilet paper roll when it’s nearing the end or at least, have a new roll within reach. Somehow, this rule never works when You reach for that roll of near empty T-paper.

7. The light turns green and you’re in the L-turn lane, ready for your chance to turn. You’re patiently waiting for on-coming traffic to pass and the pedestrians to finish crossing AND just as you see it’s clear to turn—before the amber light turns to red—one more pedestrian, with his cellphone pressed to his ear, steps off the curb and slow-walks across the intersection.

8. You’ve  circled the block umpteen times—optimistic that there will be a parking space. You see a car pull out just as you’re coming down the street, but quick as a bunny, one of those teeny-weeny cars jump two lanes and dives into the space that’s meant for a real grown-up car, not a half-pint one!

9. We all have that one go-to-can’t-fail dish that has never failed, no matter what you do or didn’t do. BUT, the first time you really, really  want to impress is the day your fave go-to-can’t-fail dish fails.

10. You’ve seen this particular item everywhere. It seems you’re constantly tripping over opportunities to purchase one, but you talk yourself out of it because you see it everywhere, so there’s no hurry to purchase one now. Naturally, you finally decide to buy one for a friend’s birthday and that’s when there’s not a single one anywhere. I think that’s a marketing conspiracy, don’t you?

I believe cherry pits are meant to test us on patience. Life is not supposed to run too smoothly—after all, that would be very boring. Enjoy your day, but watch out for those sneaky pits. I know there are many more out there. What’s yours?

Thank you to Bess, Lillian, Madge, Ellen, Pat and Georgie–they wanted to read this Mother’s Day tale again. It was first posted in May 2015. Thank you, Gals!

I got in this “Mom” thing late in life.  By the time I met my Hubby, his son was almost 18 and at a sort of rebellious age. T knew his own mind, had definite ideas about his Dad’s love-life and buried himself in tinkering with his numerous cars—one at a time, of course—while hanging out with his friends and girlfriend.

I wasn’t into being anyone’s “step-Mom” and figured I simply had a nice friendship with someone I liked; who had decidedly different ideas on leisure activities; who trusted me to navigate the alien streets of Vancouver to visit his parents and who was brave enough to continue ball-room dancing with a partner who had 2 left feet to begin with and still had 2 left feet when we finished our classes. When J finally popped the question, there was no hesitation in accepting as we had known each other for a few years. By then, the thought of having a 21-year old step-son was not as daunting as I had first thought.  T had evolved into a responsible and kind adult. While J and I enjoyed our engagement period, that became a lengthy one, T got married to his high school sweetheart and started a family.

The day I married T’s Dad, I officially became wife, step-Mom and Grandma to a 2-1/2 year old grandson and an 8-months old grand-daughter.

Today, my 2 oldest grandchildren are hard-working, responsible young adults who have definite goals in mind. My two younger grandchildren are active girls who love everything in their world, especially their big brother and big sister.

Moms have a tough job. They deal with not only the good and positive stuff of motherhood, but also the negative things such as colds, flu and things kids get into as well as the day-to-day running of an active household.  And for many others, juggling in a full-time job as well. When Mom-job and day-job collide, she manages to deal with both while keeping calm and relatively sane.

I feel very blessed to be a step-Mom and Grandma on Mother’s Day. I got there the easy route.  To all the other Moms out there, know you’re doing a great job. To all the Grandmas, you know you’ve done a great job when you gaze on the happy faces of your grandchildren.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you—give yourself a well-deserved pat on the back!

We can go through Life and encounter amazing experiences or memorable moments that we clearly remember years later. I’m not sure why that is, but clearly,  some things make a deep impression on us. And sometimes, it’s the unexpected–the good unexpected, that makes the memory special.

Today was my going-to-the-supermarket day. I had checked the supplies, looked over the fliers and made out my list. Hovering over the apples, the lady next to me, gave a huge yawn. Well, as we all know, yawns are contagious and before I knew it, my yawn matched hers. We gave each other an embarrass smile and I made my way over to the broccoli. This time, I yawned and she giggled.  Glancing over, I saw her by the tomatoes and she had just finished a huge yawn.  By this time, we were buddies, bonded by veggies and yawns. She grinned and commented, “Produce is very boring. Too bad they can’t jump up and dance to grab our attention!” A deep masculine voice, emanating from the mountain of yams, replied, “I’ll do my best for you Ladies.” And the store employee, setting out the yams gave a brilliant Michael Jackson “moonwalk”, finishing with a dazzling twirl and a tip of his imaginary hat.”  We just had to applaud this unexpected performance. A boring veggie day was definitely not on his agenda!

Little kids are known to do the unexpected. When they’re at the ages of 2-5, it’s an “untouched” time of their lives because they form their own conclusions on things they observe. Yes, they do learn from television shows, books, parents and other kids, but it’s always a revelation to hear them explain stuff as they see it. As I strolled to the Village, a little 3 year old was crouched over an event he was observing. While his Mom stood patiently to one side with a little one in a stroller, her son was giving her and his little brother, a running commentary.

“Look Mom—that itty-bitty ant is pulling that dead fat fly away by himself. Yuk–it’s dry and falling apart, but he’s not taking it away for food. . .looks like he’s clearing off the walk.  Ooh-look, now there’s two other ants and they’re pulling this piece of fruit somewhere. Know what, Mom? That first ant is no bigger than the other ants. Wonder how they know what to do? Do you think they have a work board like we do, Mom?. . .Look Rudy, can you see the ants? Wish you were bigger so you can come here to look too.  Mom, Mom? Did you see that worm?  Can we stay longer, Mom?. . . .I wanna see what. . . ”

Me too, Kid—I want to hear what else you’re seeing. . .Don’t ever lose that wonderful enthusiasm.

In my City, “Tim Horton’s”, aka “Timmy’s”, is the doughnut place to dash to when that craving for fried dough hits. Now, there are newer very good, but smaller bakeries,  producing great doughnuts who can give Timmy’s a run for its money. But, it was Timmy’s that I encountered a very precocious 3 year old, who had an amazing knowledge of doughnut “holes.”   The little girl sat at the table beside me.

“I’m holding the table for Mommy.  She’s bringing me a treat,” the tiny Munchkin informed me. “Is your Mommy bringing you a treat?”

“My friend is bringing coffees and doughnuts,” I told her.

“Mommy’s bringing me my bag of holes and my juice.”

“What are  holes? And how do you eat a hole?” I asked.

“You know when the big bakerman makes those big round doughnuts with a hole in the middle? My brudder told me there’s a little bakerman who punches out the middles. That’s the holes. He makes them for himself  ‘cept when he needs lunch money and has to sell some to buy his lunch.”

“I never knew that,”  I told her. “That’s really amazing. How does your brother know this?”

“Cause he got to see where they make doughnuts. I’m not big enough to go to school yet, but I want to see this too!  Jimmy shared his bag of holes with me. They’re just like the big ones ‘cept they’re teeny-weeny.”

Phooey—days later, I can’t seem to get rid of this image of a little bakerman,  punching out doughnut centres and selling the holes for lunch money.

Another memory that is safely tucked forever in my mind. My parents gave me a jade ring when I graduated. It had a simple gold band with a plainly set green jade stone. I loved that ring. One winter,  I approached my car in the parking lot and began to brush off the snow that had accumulated  while I was at work. Later that night, I realized I no longer had the ring on my finger.  Sick at heart, I realized that my gloveless hand had been so cold, the ring must have slipped off while I was sweeping the snow off the windshield.   My Dad told me, “If that jade ring was meant for you,  it will come back.” After a sleepless night, I gave myself an early start and somehow ended with the same parking space I had the day before. Stepping out on the snowy lot, I carefully checked the grounds. There, partially buried in the snow, was a hint of green. Dad was right. It was my jade ring waiting for me to reclaim it.

We all have “Special Moments” stored in our brains and tucked in our hearts—moments that can be treasured and replayed at our leisure;  moments that were unforgettable because we lingered to capture those amazing minutes.

Friends come in many shapes and sizes. I’ve found that it’s not their shapes and sizes that makes a friend, but the size of their hearts.

As with anything in Life, there is a certain chemistry that steers a person to another. There is that same interest in a hobby or an activity that captures the attention—similar tastes in foods, a certain adventurous spirit, an attraction to the same kinds of music or art and so much more. But, there are also differences that attracts as well and this becomes a learning experience for both.

There are different kinds of friends.

There are Casual Friends—these are people who pop into our lives briefly, but are likeable and personable. I include among them  the produce person, the baker and my favourite cashier at the supermarket; the friendly barista at the frequented coffee-bar or the wait-person at the bistro who knows your preferences; the same people I briefly encounter on my walks. An exchange of “How are you? Great weather for walking!”  makes the start of a day an enjoyable one.

There are Fun Friends I like to do things with—-they are more than casual friends. They are my concert friends, my art friends, my writing friends, my line-dancing friends,  my burlesque-fit friends and my going-out-to-eat friends. I’ve learned a lot being with my fun friends.

Finally, there are the True Friends. If you have one or two true friends in your life, then you are a rich person. I am extremely fortunate to claim a few true friends. Nothing else matters because your true friend(s) is/are always within your reach. This is a friendship that may have been forged in your childhood or as recent as a few years. No matter what has happened in your life over the years, TFs are there for you. Even if you live in opposite ends of the country, there’s always that joke or  message in your email or even a long-distance phone call. And yes, nowadays, that on-screen face-to-face video call. Even if you haven’t seen each other in a number of years, TFs connect immediately, as if you had only seen each other the day before.

TFs are a combination of fun friends as well as true friends. It doesn’t matter if you spend only an hour or a full-day because the time spent is always enjoyable and amusing. They can talk you into doing something you’ve never considered and you realize afterwards, it was fun. They leave your rainy day filled with rainbows and sunshine.

TFs are supportive, comforting and good listeners if there are problems. They may offer solutions or just lend a shoulder or merely listen. Help is there if you need it. I know that they know I’m there for them too.

I like most people I encounter from day-to-day and I delight in my fun friends. But, I feel most blessed with my few true friends who have been with me through all the ups and downs of my life.  They are the ones I adore, appreciate and enjoy very much. Eleanor Roosevelt said it best:

“Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.” —Eleanor Roosevelt