Written Tuesday evening........
Well it’s started again. My old nemesis insomnia has come a calling. Is it a full moon or something? I had a brief reprieve but its back with a vengeance. I made the mistake of having a wee nap after work, not intentionally, just fell asleep after dinner and that might be the culprit, we’ll see if it repeats itself like a belly after beans.
Not being able to sleep is like having a broken blind. No matter how much you tug on the cord it won’t close. You play with it a bit but to no avail and finally give up trying. Then all of a sudden it comes crashing down and hits the window sill. At last sleep. But then of course you can’t get up in the morning, cause that’s when the body decides it’s time for rest and the body gets what the body wants.
So I tossed and turned and rolled around like a chicken on spit until I thought screw it, got up and went downstairs for my computer. It’s called a laptop and although I’ve never moved it from the dining room table I figured it was time to serve the purpose it was intended for. I purchased one of those things that keep the computer from overheating and burning out the motor from your lap heat and it comes with a mouse pad and a wrist rest, rather comfortable for typing actually…I see more writing in bed in my future. So I spent from 5:00 am to 6:30 am throwing down some thoughts and then decided if I could grab two hours before the alarm went off that would be enough to get me through the day. Well, the alarm went off and I was so deep in sleep I didn’t hear it. It runs for two hours and then shuts off automatically and interestingly I awoke after the booming voice stopped....I guess the stark quiet disturbed my brain. Luckily Chelsea is in helping me out a bit this week so the shop is open, but that’s a luxury I won’t be able to count on when I’m back to being a onesy. Aw well, maybe this is the time to take a breather as there’s a lot of year left ahead of me. This just might be all the vacation I get this year.
Earlier in the evening after my nap, I was watching a PBS broadcast about yoga for arthritically challenged people. There were lots of testimonials on how yoga is saving their bodies from atrophying. Older women in their late 80’s say they have no stiffness in their joints, no pain in their fingers even though they are disfigured with arthritis. I do believe in the benefits of yoga and might give it another chance.
I signed up for a local class a couple of summers ago but being a newbie I didn’t know the moves and hurt myself a bit. We were told not to force it or go further than our comfort level but I wasn’t instructed on the proper position of each move, thought it was fine, overdid it and was pretty sore. I would like to be shown how to property construct the moves, not be left to flounder on my own and figure it out by spying on the person next to you while trying to keep up. The instructor never left her position at the head of the class and that was okay for all the experienced people in the room but I didn’t know yoga from a hole in the wall and could have benefited with a bit of instruction. So my first experience with a class left me a bit cold but I am willing to give it another go with another instructor. There is a morning show on our local cable station that I should tape to try. Not being much of a morning person and not wanting the stress of the 7:30 deadline I'll just set the magical Eastlink cable box to record the show and watch it at my convenience...just like I do with my favourites.
I’m a fan of Coronation Street and watch it every evening with dinner, it records daily so I don’t have to be home at 7:30. I’ve been watching the show as long as I’ve been hooking, introduced to me by Mary Doig all of 14 years ago. I’m a bit disappointed that the show is now on par with England’s broadcasts as in the past we have been almost a year behind so there was always the ability to read ahead to get the skinny on what might be happening. Now you just have to wait and see. Like Christmas presents I always like a little sneak peek, especially if a story line is particularly juicy and I don’t want to wait for the next episode. Someone in England writes a blow by blow account of each episode and you can go online and read all 40 years’ worth of shows. Corrie fans are everywhere and in the past, our prime minister has postponed calling an election until after the show as not to pre-empt the broadcast and piss the country off. No politician wants disgruntled Corrie fans when they are after votes. Funny, to know the popularity and long running history, I can't seem to find many people who admit watching it.
For those of you who don’t know anything about the show it’s been running over 40 years and is nothing like regular North American soap operas. This is a show with a fast paced plot, if someone is murdered on Monday you pretty much know who did it by Friday. No year long suspense as the storyline is dragged out to infinity. Mt attention span likes the quick turn around but what attracts me the most is the clever comedic writing.
The past few years the show has seen a lot of change, taking a few hits to the older characters as they are either dying (sometimes in real life) or being replaced to attract the younger audiences. I
know things can’t stay the same forever but all the kids and on the show might make it more appealing to the younger viewers but I’m not a big fan of teenage drama. I’d prefer a few more murders on the street, maybe the offing of whiney Gail Platt. After all the losers she’s married you’d think one of them would have successfully bumped her off, because it's not from the lack of trying. She just doesn’t inspire any sympathy in me. She’s a nosy interfering biddy, the kind of neighbour I would hate in real life. Her sanctimonious attitude is what irks me but if the truth be told, her character is obviously doing something right to evoke that kind of annoyance so she's playing the part well.
She just got duped by the guy her mother was in love with and let me tell you, I’ll bet all of England cheered as she got her comeuppance. But she’s a flexible one, little less than a week later and her feathers are ruffled and she’s all righteous again. My mother always said, a skunk smells its own hole first, but she never does, somehow her own faults are lost on her. Now she’s hell bent on telling a secret that will destroy her children’s lives. Rich coming from someone who bends the rules for convenience, hers that is. How many women would try to run off with the love of their mother's life? She's pretty selfish on the loyalty scale, but God forbid someone else makes a mistake or she's on them like fleas on a dog. Yup, someone could bump her character off and I wouldn't blink.
Every now and then I swear I’ll stop watching the show and a couple of years ago I did for a year when we cut the cable in pursuit of a more active life…it was that or have the sofa surgically removed from my arse. I was becoming a pretty dedicated couch potato, wasting my life away while my brain turned to mush. I was wonderfully productive during that cableless period and I truthfully didn’t miss it. Like any addiction, remove the enticement and your focus is shifted elsewhere. But, somehow the cable got turned back on, someone must have phoned and had it reconnected…..
One aspect of Corrie I’ve always found amusing. No one in England, at least not the ones who have visited my shop will admit they watch it. During the first couple of years in business, I stupidly asked anyone with an English accent if they were fans of the show. Well, talk about getting the head bitten off, I was put in my place in no uncertain terms. One woman was so indignant she stuck her nose in the air and loudly showed proclaimed, “I’ll have you know that England is nothing like that!”
After several, much the same, responses, I kept my mouth shut. So much for trying to build a common denominator with a customer. Apparently no one over there watches the show, nor do they in Mahone Bay. The same thing happened when I queried some of the local imports. Once again, no one watches the show, and it’s an insult to be asked. I asked a neighbour and she totally dismissed me, but in a very lovely accent, and later when I asked her husband if she was in as I had something for her, he told me that you couldn't pry her from the TV with a crowbar when Coronation Street was on, so come back later. So I've uncovered yet another closet corrie fan. But why lie? Where’s the shame? I’d be more ashamed to admit I watched Honey BooBoo (and I don't!) Corrie’s a classic, the oldest running soap opera in the world, with very clever writers. Why lie?
It’s like country music. No one will admit listening to it but it’s boosts the highest grossing sales of all the music genres. Turning defensive as if listening to a bit of George Jones makes you an inbred, county bumpkin. I think there are worse things in life than worrying if someone will find out you enjoy a bit of twang. I’m not ashamed to admit it, I love country music, like Barbara Mandrel I was raised on a steady diet of country. The old style, turkey in the straw, hurtin kind. The old joke what do you get when you play country music backwards?…you get your wife back, you get your house back, you get your truck back, your dog back….
I grew up in a house of music. Every Saturday night there was a jam session. My father was a self taught, amateur musician who played a bit of honky tonk piano, guitar, mouth organ and fiddle. He played by ear alongside Fiddling Jim Hamn, Little Buddy and Austin Younis with his steel guitar and accordion. Our house vibrated with a country hum. I would lie on my belly till the wee hours of the morning watching the party through the register vent in my bedroom. Too nosy to miss a thing, I would linger until my body was numb and I’d inhaled a cartons worth of
cigarette smoke. Adults had so much fun back then, kitchen parties, dancing, drinking and singing to the old time favorites and laughing like there was no tomorrow.
I got my first guitar for Christmas at age 12. My father gave me my first lesson which yielded the basics to play Tennessee Waltz, Bouquet of Roses and then Please Release Me Let Me Go. You can play a lot of songs with a magic trio of G, A7 and D. I was a soft strummer, quiet and shy just like my personality. It was evident that I wouldn't be blazing any blue grass trails but my friend Cheryl Benedict and I both played together and sang in a talent contest at the Legion. We wrote and performed a tune called “Candy Cone Mountain”, I can’t remember any of the words but it was probably hokey and love related. Being two wallflowers, neither of us had any experience with boys or with romantic love so maybe the title of the song was the only good part. We didn’t win but we had fun and there’s a picture somewhere to commemorate the evening, The other memory is wearing the brand new pheasant blouse hot from my mother's sewing machine. I often wonder where Cheryl is these days, I think of her often. We were best buds for a couple of years; if I close my eyes I can see her face as if it was yesterday. If she walked in my shop today I would recognize her step and her voice.
So I started out with a bit of insomnia and then jumped to yoga, then touched on Corrie which led to country music in just a few sentences. Now there’s a weird bridge. That’s why playing with words is so much fun; one word leads to another and a whole bunch more and all of a sudden you have a story.
Well it’s started again. My old nemesis insomnia has come a calling. Is it a full moon or something? I had a brief reprieve but its back with a vengeance. I made the mistake of having a wee nap after work, not intentionally, just fell asleep after dinner and that might be the culprit, we’ll see if it repeats itself like a belly after beans.
Not being able to sleep is like having a broken blind. No matter how much you tug on the cord it won’t close. You play with it a bit but to no avail and finally give up trying. Then all of a sudden it comes crashing down and hits the window sill. At last sleep. But then of course you can’t get up in the morning, cause that’s when the body decides it’s time for rest and the body gets what the body wants.
So I tossed and turned and rolled around like a chicken on spit until I thought screw it, got up and went downstairs for my computer. It’s called a laptop and although I’ve never moved it from the dining room table I figured it was time to serve the purpose it was intended for. I purchased one of those things that keep the computer from overheating and burning out the motor from your lap heat and it comes with a mouse pad and a wrist rest, rather comfortable for typing actually…I see more writing in bed in my future. So I spent from 5:00 am to 6:30 am throwing down some thoughts and then decided if I could grab two hours before the alarm went off that would be enough to get me through the day. Well, the alarm went off and I was so deep in sleep I didn’t hear it. It runs for two hours and then shuts off automatically and interestingly I awoke after the booming voice stopped....I guess the stark quiet disturbed my brain. Luckily Chelsea is in helping me out a bit this week so the shop is open, but that’s a luxury I won’t be able to count on when I’m back to being a onesy. Aw well, maybe this is the time to take a breather as there’s a lot of year left ahead of me. This just might be all the vacation I get this year.
Earlier in the evening after my nap, I was watching a PBS broadcast about yoga for arthritically challenged people. There were lots of testimonials on how yoga is saving their bodies from atrophying. Older women in their late 80’s say they have no stiffness in their joints, no pain in their fingers even though they are disfigured with arthritis. I do believe in the benefits of yoga and might give it another chance.
I signed up for a local class a couple of summers ago but being a newbie I didn’t know the moves and hurt myself a bit. We were told not to force it or go further than our comfort level but I wasn’t instructed on the proper position of each move, thought it was fine, overdid it and was pretty sore. I would like to be shown how to property construct the moves, not be left to flounder on my own and figure it out by spying on the person next to you while trying to keep up. The instructor never left her position at the head of the class and that was okay for all the experienced people in the room but I didn’t know yoga from a hole in the wall and could have benefited with a bit of instruction. So my first experience with a class left me a bit cold but I am willing to give it another go with another instructor. There is a morning show on our local cable station that I should tape to try. Not being much of a morning person and not wanting the stress of the 7:30 deadline I'll just set the magical Eastlink cable box to record the show and watch it at my convenience...just like I do with my favourites.
I’m a fan of Coronation Street and watch it every evening with dinner, it records daily so I don’t have to be home at 7:30. I’ve been watching the show as long as I’ve been hooking, introduced to me by Mary Doig all of 14 years ago. I’m a bit disappointed that the show is now on par with England’s broadcasts as in the past we have been almost a year behind so there was always the ability to read ahead to get the skinny on what might be happening. Now you just have to wait and see. Like Christmas presents I always like a little sneak peek, especially if a story line is particularly juicy and I don’t want to wait for the next episode. Someone in England writes a blow by blow account of each episode and you can go online and read all 40 years’ worth of shows. Corrie fans are everywhere and in the past, our prime minister has postponed calling an election until after the show as not to pre-empt the broadcast and piss the country off. No politician wants disgruntled Corrie fans when they are after votes. Funny, to know the popularity and long running history, I can't seem to find many people who admit watching it.
For those of you who don’t know anything about the show it’s been running over 40 years and is nothing like regular North American soap operas. This is a show with a fast paced plot, if someone is murdered on Monday you pretty much know who did it by Friday. No year long suspense as the storyline is dragged out to infinity. Mt attention span likes the quick turn around but what attracts me the most is the clever comedic writing.
The past few years the show has seen a lot of change, taking a few hits to the older characters as they are either dying (sometimes in real life) or being replaced to attract the younger audiences. I
know things can’t stay the same forever but all the kids and on the show might make it more appealing to the younger viewers but I’m not a big fan of teenage drama. I’d prefer a few more murders on the street, maybe the offing of whiney Gail Platt. After all the losers she’s married you’d think one of them would have successfully bumped her off, because it's not from the lack of trying. She just doesn’t inspire any sympathy in me. She’s a nosy interfering biddy, the kind of neighbour I would hate in real life. Her sanctimonious attitude is what irks me but if the truth be told, her character is obviously doing something right to evoke that kind of annoyance so she's playing the part well.
She just got duped by the guy her mother was in love with and let me tell you, I’ll bet all of England cheered as she got her comeuppance. But she’s a flexible one, little less than a week later and her feathers are ruffled and she’s all righteous again. My mother always said, a skunk smells its own hole first, but she never does, somehow her own faults are lost on her. Now she’s hell bent on telling a secret that will destroy her children’s lives. Rich coming from someone who bends the rules for convenience, hers that is. How many women would try to run off with the love of their mother's life? She's pretty selfish on the loyalty scale, but God forbid someone else makes a mistake or she's on them like fleas on a dog. Yup, someone could bump her character off and I wouldn't blink.
Every now and then I swear I’ll stop watching the show and a couple of years ago I did for a year when we cut the cable in pursuit of a more active life…it was that or have the sofa surgically removed from my arse. I was becoming a pretty dedicated couch potato, wasting my life away while my brain turned to mush. I was wonderfully productive during that cableless period and I truthfully didn’t miss it. Like any addiction, remove the enticement and your focus is shifted elsewhere. But, somehow the cable got turned back on, someone must have phoned and had it reconnected…..
One aspect of Corrie I’ve always found amusing. No one in England, at least not the ones who have visited my shop will admit they watch it. During the first couple of years in business, I stupidly asked anyone with an English accent if they were fans of the show. Well, talk about getting the head bitten off, I was put in my place in no uncertain terms. One woman was so indignant she stuck her nose in the air and loudly showed proclaimed, “I’ll have you know that England is nothing like that!”
After several, much the same, responses, I kept my mouth shut. So much for trying to build a common denominator with a customer. Apparently no one over there watches the show, nor do they in Mahone Bay. The same thing happened when I queried some of the local imports. Once again, no one watches the show, and it’s an insult to be asked. I asked a neighbour and she totally dismissed me, but in a very lovely accent, and later when I asked her husband if she was in as I had something for her, he told me that you couldn't pry her from the TV with a crowbar when Coronation Street was on, so come back later. So I've uncovered yet another closet corrie fan. But why lie? Where’s the shame? I’d be more ashamed to admit I watched Honey BooBoo (and I don't!) Corrie’s a classic, the oldest running soap opera in the world, with very clever writers. Why lie?
It’s like country music. No one will admit listening to it but it’s boosts the highest grossing sales of all the music genres. Turning defensive as if listening to a bit of George Jones makes you an inbred, county bumpkin. I think there are worse things in life than worrying if someone will find out you enjoy a bit of twang. I’m not ashamed to admit it, I love country music, like Barbara Mandrel I was raised on a steady diet of country. The old style, turkey in the straw, hurtin kind. The old joke what do you get when you play country music backwards?…you get your wife back, you get your house back, you get your truck back, your dog back….
I grew up in a house of music. Every Saturday night there was a jam session. My father was a self taught, amateur musician who played a bit of honky tonk piano, guitar, mouth organ and fiddle. He played by ear alongside Fiddling Jim Hamn, Little Buddy and Austin Younis with his steel guitar and accordion. Our house vibrated with a country hum. I would lie on my belly till the wee hours of the morning watching the party through the register vent in my bedroom. Too nosy to miss a thing, I would linger until my body was numb and I’d inhaled a cartons worth of
cigarette smoke. Adults had so much fun back then, kitchen parties, dancing, drinking and singing to the old time favorites and laughing like there was no tomorrow.
I got my first guitar for Christmas at age 12. My father gave me my first lesson which yielded the basics to play Tennessee Waltz, Bouquet of Roses and then Please Release Me Let Me Go. You can play a lot of songs with a magic trio of G, A7 and D. I was a soft strummer, quiet and shy just like my personality. It was evident that I wouldn't be blazing any blue grass trails but my friend Cheryl Benedict and I both played together and sang in a talent contest at the Legion. We wrote and performed a tune called “Candy Cone Mountain”, I can’t remember any of the words but it was probably hokey and love related. Being two wallflowers, neither of us had any experience with boys or with romantic love so maybe the title of the song was the only good part. We didn’t win but we had fun and there’s a picture somewhere to commemorate the evening, The other memory is wearing the brand new pheasant blouse hot from my mother's sewing machine. I often wonder where Cheryl is these days, I think of her often. We were best buds for a couple of years; if I close my eyes I can see her face as if it was yesterday. If she walked in my shop today I would recognize her step and her voice.
So I started out with a bit of insomnia and then jumped to yoga, then touched on Corrie which led to country music in just a few sentences. Now there’s a weird bridge. That’s why playing with words is so much fun; one word leads to another and a whole bunch more and all of a sudden you have a story.
I've come a long way from the blue leotards and a green vest. Thankfully my colour planning skills have improved! Here I am at age 12 with my new red gee tar! This must be just before I got my first pair of glasses.
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