Monday, Monday

Maya had a restless night which translated into me also having one. She’s been a bit discombobulated since the move, more so since we lost Murphy, so I’m granting her grace. Even so, going outside three times between midnight and 5 a.m. when I finally just got up, is excessive—especially when at least one of

Tea Time and the “S” Word

I'm watching the snow level drop on the hills across the valley and the first flakes of white have started falling here. Gerry brought the last of the outdoor furniture inside this morning so we're ready for it. Well, not quite. Our snow shovels and snowblower are in storage in Moose Jaw. When we moved

Poetry Monday

We go to Costco to buy popcorn. And more. Always more. After deciding I don't need them I loop back and pick up a yellow box of Dad's Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies. (48 individually wrapped packages containing two cookies each.) Because school lunches. And childhood memories. When we get home I brew tea and dip

Here and Now

I finally tended to the carrots we harvested from our backyard garden many weeks ago. They've been resting on the back deck waiting for me to get a burst of energy and turn my attention to them. This morning I brought them in, washed, and chopped some for soup and others for munching, and the

Monday, Monday

I'm having a quiet, albeit busy, Monday morning. With Makiya at school, Laurinda and work, and Gerry out hiking, it's just me, Maya, Murphy (who, incidentally, joined our family one year ago today), and a pretty kitty named Chica who is still adjusting to being a Kamloopsian. Earlier, the dogs and the cat declared a

These Are Good Days

These are good days. Different, but good. We are adjusting to new routines that come from having our granddaughter, Makiya, with us and the changes have brought gifts. Just now, I'm sitting in a quiet house (well, except for our Yorkie, Maya, who has spotted someone walking outside and is letting me know about it).