Posts Tagged: gratitude
On Being Grateful: The Daddy Files
I’m not gonna lie. The mister has been gone for going on 6 days now and I am in over my head. #SendHelpNow. He’s on a tour withNathan Rogers, playing all the songs he grew up with in his dad’s studio – from Nathan’s dad, the late great Stan Rogers.
Some of you may not know who that is, so Ima going to school you. Because Stan is a Canadian folk icon and you’ll be the better for knowing. He was a legend really, a voice of and for the people. He sang of ships and hard-working people, the Great Lakes and Ontario.
From The Vault: My Most Favourite Posts
I’ve noticed quite a few, “Top Posts of 2011″ and the like from writers in the blogging community.
I however have decided to choose from the much smaller collection from whence this blog began.
Why? Because I started out as an irregular, complete novice. Who still does not post everyday. However, come this year a whole lot of things are changing. The face of this site for one. Come February it’s going to be shiny and new, a hub for all that I do. More on that later.
This collection here? Is for me to share with those whom want to get to know me better, or those whom I really, really, like and want them to know me better. The awesome part about that is that it’s often a combo of the two.
It’s also a source of inspiration, for me – to come back to and meander over how I’ve evolved as a writer, found my voice and developed my mad blogging skillz. Because. Like I said. I plan on doing much more of this. In many ways. As an advocate, as a story-teller, as an ambassador and paid writer. But most importantly, for me and other women like me out there. Because the writing stuff? It heals. It empowers. It unites.
So. This curated list will be the first step into my second coming. A more frequent, constantly learning, embracing the everyday that is me. As a writer. Gone the name acronyms will be, it’s about to get straight-up – the edgy that is me, REAL in here.
Without further ado…to serve as reminder to me. Kicks in the pants to me and FYI’s for you. So pull up a chair. Pour yourself a glass of vino. (I’m publishing this in the eveing people, as I pour myself a glass). Dig in.
Tour of My Holiday Home
Welcome. Mayhaps you found your way here from the Babbles, as I peaked your interest and you wanted more. More Holiday Home Tour action. Because that coffee and Bailey’s I told you to pour yourself is not quite finished and if you’re like me, you find small pleasure in A. Christmas and all things decor related and, B. Pilfering your time away on the internets 2 days before said holiday C. Drinking bailey’s during the holidays. ICed or on coffee. (I should be the Holiday spokesperson for Bailey’s with the amount that i go on about it. Seriously. Uhm, hello Gilbey’s of Ireland? Or Diageo? I’m right here. I’m your woman for 2012.
Peter Cotton-Tail was in the Hizz-ouse.
There was feasting and ceremony and treasure hunts and skype visits and flying chickadees, but above all glee. Glee to be gathered, but missing our beautiful kwe’s. They have been flying reindeer, making music and a documentary with Adjagas, (courtesy Big Soul Productions and a whack of other talented film peeps), some fabulous Sammi musicians of Norway. However, we were grateful for the miracles of the interwebs, in that Skype allowed them to be a part of our ceremony of re-birth and giving thanks.
I crafted and baked our gifts to wee ones, except for the chocolates for the hunt. Really now.
I cooked all day with some (missing a couple), of my coven and an exceptional young man home from B.C. Thank-you Nicholyn Farms phone in grocery order capabilities and local Barrie Farmers Market drop-off to pick up. That’s some 100 mile love right there.
A 9 mo. Old Wee Strappin’ Lad aka: WSL
Could it be? My sweet baby boy; our Little Big Spirit Running, that you’ve entered into three quarters of a year in age? Nine months and a few days past when you found your place in this realm, here on earth. Leader from the sky; Wyndham Nighanagiizhig Tobias Mills.
You’d been dreamt about by me. Dreamt about by our elder as a wise leader from the spirit realm; here now, to run wild, happy and free. Running to discover the knowledge you have, as given to you by our grandfathers. But first it’s your toes to discover…tiny little nubs round and sweet as corn apparently, as you repeatedly flex them up to your mouth to gobble and slurp upon. The tickle of grass you clench and gritty feel of dirt you claw with glee. Your voice, your limbs, the magic in every corner. Every day is pure joy and exploration through your eyes, transposed into me. You give us such complete and natural bliss. The world is different now to us, to me, through your wise young eyes…
To Have & Have Not
What no words can paint. You, my Little Big Spirit Running; my Leader From The Sky, my prodigal son, have bequeathed unto me a blessing of the highest order.
Your presence, your trust, your life, your love.
As I sit and flounder over adjectives to describe the ample hole you have filled in this well-traveled soul; I mire against the trite. My love for you is vast and huge and deliciously intense. Although, to write about YOU is for another day. That deserves a dedication all it’s own. This day is for me to talk about a conception, I never thought I’d have.
Son, I laid tobacco down the other day; under that tree, the kind that speaks to your momma.