The man was a goldmine of stories and family history - of the grisly and the local lore of the land. He could quietly tell a tale and speak so low that you were literally on the edge of your seat…you just KNEW he could be leaving the best part out.
I notice the picture that I snapped of the evening sky yesterday reminds me of the painting that Brent made for me a few years ago. "I'm going to make you a painting!" he decided one evening when he had dropped by our place for dinner. He would send me photos of the various stages as he created it.
Dad's homestead was a paradise of farm animals, cats, home cooking, curious oddities such as milk separators and actual fresh milk from a cow, as well as boat loads of cousins to play with. Never a dull moment...well, mostly.
My childhood memories often come to mind out of nowhere on any given day and remain vividly imprinted in my mind - like those spots when I close my eyes after staring too long at the sun (or a flashbulb). Most of these random memories take place in Montreal, specifically in my neigbourhood of Lachine as it was back in the day.
The topic of cosmetic enhancements has always fascinated me, not to mention speculating about whether or not someone has “had any work done”. My hands often wander up to my own face as I contemplate my disappearing jaw line…#mirrormirroronthewall
When I'm not Googling "murder" or looking up cases of life threatening illnesses and self-diagnosing, I use the internet for more constructive purposes such as finding out "what your doodles really mean".
For some time now, I've been experiencing writer's block. I mean, I have ideas and I still dump those thoughts into an "idea bin" (scrap of paper, napkin, phone notes, old fashioned pen to paper and or my Text Edit feature on my computer), but nothing has really grabbed hold. Just a bunch of frail bird bones - no flesh.