the pomegranate tiger

I'm still here and barely keeping head above water. The legs are kicking, the arms are flailing. Just when the water reaches burbling nose level and threatens to overtake horizon of lower lids, a determined scissor kick thrusts me just high enough to breathe again. One more week until tax season is over and I can really breathe a sigh of relief. Every year it's the same. People wait until the last two weeks to bring in their stuff and we're inundated with a seemingly never-ending deluge of paper forms, receipts and what passes for the average person's attempt at shoebox accounting. My biggest beef is with people who have so-called "easy" returns and think they can have them done right away. Even the easiest returns take time. It's the equivalent of hundreds of people showing up at a restaurant - all at the same time, all expecting to be seated and served right away because they just want a simple hamburger and fries. Can't be done. Meanwhile, I ta...

If my life were a dance it would be a free-form interpretative dance; a go with the flow, make it up as you go kind of dance. It would be adaptational and look a little like Isadora Duncan meets Twyla Tharp and American Ballet Theatre. See more from First 50 Words

Arms out Joyous Running Balls to the wind. Eyes wide Heart-thumping Leap Into the black hole of unknowns. Accepting Expecting Love Pain Loss Sorrow Knowing Mortality hovers. Running Leaping Regardless Is fearless. Another Sunday Scribblings prompt .

** I posted a slightly different version of this video yesterday. For those of you who follow American Idol, you'll already know that Jason Castro, one of the contestants sang this version of Over the Rainbow on Tuesday night. It's a version originally done by a beautiful and wonderful Hawaiian singer named Israel Kamakawiwoʻole . He died in 1997 at the age of 38. For those who have never heard the original version sung by Iz, please watch and listen: . . . to remember him and because it's so beautiful.

Found the following on Dancing For Beginners and just had to share: Bathroom Sign In the men's room at work, the Boss had placed a sign directly above the sink. It had a single word on it -- "Think!" The next day, when he went to the men's room, he looked at the sign and right below, immediately above the soap dispenser, someone had carefully lettered another sign which read -- "Thoap!" - author unknown AND in the gents toilet at a small bistro: "We aim to please you ... will you aim to please us?"

I get asked this question quite a lot. It often arises out of online conversations where the other party can't see what I look like. Not right away, of course, because that would be rude -- but usually after we've gotten to know each other in that uniquely cyberspace online disjointed read-discuss-comment sort of way. If I'm in a playful mood, I might answer, "Old enough to be your mother (or grandmother)". Most often, I'll just state my age (which is 58 years at this writing). I've never understood the need to be coy about my age. I didn't mind turning thirty, forty or fifty; I know I won't mind turning sixty. I've harped on this before, but we are the age we are - no amount of lying or denial will change it. Pretending we're not aging or old, only plays into the ageism already rampant in our youth-obsessed culture. On the one hand, I am quite perplexed, if not downright annoyed, by people who won't divulge their age, but on the ...

It has occurred to me that I've been doing a lot of blogs involving writing prompts, games and wordplay lately and not too many about the personal goings-on in my life. Not sure why. I've also noticed I get great ideas –- at least they seem like great ideas at the time -- when I'm in front of the mirror, brushing my teeth. Unfortunately, by the time I get to the rinse and spit stage, my mind has caromed off into another sphere and it's hard getting back to the original idea. With that in mind, here are some random thoughts before they disappear into the black hole that constitutes my brain: Race-relations haven't come as far as we think My son's friend still gets asked, "and where are you from?' while working in a local pub. And they don't not mean "what city are you from", but what "foreign country" strictly because of her skin colour. I was asked this same question on a regular basis thirty years ago! If I answered wit...