Grateful to Be


It’s a day of reflection. No doubt there are hundreds, probably thousands of dedications across the Net to honour those who have sacrificed their lives so that we could do simply this –sit on our behinds and blog. Ok, I jest a tad. My honest gratefulness for all who have fallen, including those who have served around the globe and live to tell their tales, is no less true. Thank you to family members living and gone who gave themselves for our freedoms today. To family, like Unk, who wore his uniform proudly and helped to maintain peace. For Pop-in-law, who equally served within our borders. To friends, like Jim, who press on in their duties out of service standing by our veterans, for having been one who served too, ensuring they receive the respect they deserve. It’s people like that who remind me actively how important it is to take a moment beyond our annual Remembrance Day and make our gratitude a daily practice. Lest we forget, indeed.


The Call is Too Strong


The days pass, and with each and every passing, but important, chore or errand, or whatever’s on my  current to-do list, the call to write aches in me. Though I haven’t added here in a while, and even saying that is a bit cliche (and darn, where is that French accent for that ‘e’?) mind you, the pull to present (don’t you just love that alliteration?) something fantastical, or even mundane, still calls. It’s how well I ignore it that belies my keyboard-friendly fingers. So, what is this? A diary entry, more like it, of the guilt that pangs my heart, or is it simply the duty I’ve bestowed upon myself, tricking myself into believing that there actually is an audience. Perhaps, fleetingly there is, and perhaps not. No matter. The randomness of my thoughts that spontaneously flow from my brain down my arm to this page isn’t so categorically –actually it’s not categorical a’tall, it just sounded like a good place for that word at the moment –systematic. There. Much better. Systematic and spontaneous? In the same clause? I’m already off track, as you can see. Nonetheless, this (and I’m giggling now) frequent misplay of  diction-induced ephemerality (or would that be better as ephemerally-induced diction?) is no less deserving of its time and space, and if there is any cause here, it is only this –I haven’t forgotten the whole three of you who read this.

Baking to Procrastinate


I’m procrastinating. This is contrary to my usual productive nature, or so I lead myself to believe. I just finished baking some banana-cinnamon muffins. Now that’s a great way to procrastinate because you have, at least, some tangible immediate satisfaction. I procrastinate on the stuff that won’t have that same immediacy. It sucks. Plain and simple.

Reading a few positive famous or not-so-famous quotes on being more productive, and having a positive attitude is all great, but then it’s just another way to procrastinate again, isn’t it. It doesn’t change the fact that my fingers haven’t really hit the keyboard or my eyes the internet. Even as I expand my To Do lists vowing to reduce them, and linger over them with pangs of guilt that follow me like a dark shadow obligating me to even have them, and then in the reducing of them to a mere handful of things…I notice something. There’s a sudden…void…an emptiness that jolts me back to reality momentarily…a jolt, not unlike the cola, that awakens me to the encroaching fears of the possibility of the meaninglessness of my self-generated minutia…that if I didn’t have this vacancy filled…someone might notice how lacklustre my existence feels at times. That’s not discounting all the great things I’ve got in life, family and friends included.

And having just mentioned them, I almost feel that, while I don’t take them for granted, no one receives the equivalent of an Oscar for being a good friend or the best parent, or whatever.  Hollywood’s best do, though. Damn them. Them, and their golden statues that hold grace upon their mantles. Teachers should get such recognition, at the very least their own red carpet. Pay scales for actors seem way out of scale in relation to the importance of their jobs. I only say that because I’m jealous.

Okay, procrastination is better phrased as the art of distraction because quite obviously now I’ve leapt from muffins to Hollywood. That’s some segue, just in time for me to hear the ding of the kitchen timer.



I picked up this term the other day whilst shopping at a local plaza. I overheard it being said by the clerk, a young lady in her early 20s, to a customer about the morning. “It’s been ridicubusy, but now it’s quieted down.” she said. The combination of ridiculous, shortened, plus a whole adjective is a great combination, and evidence that even in slang, and probably because it’s slang, that a need for a double-adjective formation was needed. Exactly. This is language in action! As slang goes, it’s created by users to create phrases, usually short syllabically, to say something simply, in usually a reduced form. No more than one or two syllables seems to be common. As if our tongues and mouth muscles can’t be bothered with that extra second and a half of effort for something more clear. The clerk could’ve easily said ‘ridiculously busy’ and that fact that she didn’t meant she cut out only two syllables. Perhaps her tongue function was lacking that day that ‘lously’ was just too much for her mouth to handle. I don’t know. Probably that’s not it. More likely the reason would be what it was, and what caught my attention. It was attention-getting. As a new combo, sure, it sounds cool, it’s shorter. It’s an uncommon saying. It’s THAT which makes it stand out, and only time will tell if this combo will catch on in some urban dictionary somewhere flaunting this neologism.