the pomegranate tiger

"Quitter!" "Who's a quitter?" "You are." "Just because I don't want to do something anymore doesn't mean I'm a quitter." I don't quit. I give up. Sometimes that's what you have to do. There are times in life when what you are pursuing just isn't worth the time, aggravation and effort anymore - perhaps the pursuit was the real endgame; when you've given it your all and there's no more to give, short of your life or your soul; when it's time to wave the white flag; when it's time to graciously step away and say, "Sorry folks, but I'm done". It's not a bad thing. This is another one of those things I wish I'd known when I was younger, but then again, maybe it's something everyone needs to learn on their own. For Sunday Scribblings

I came upon this Youtube video from a forum I frequent: Love it when Lenore says their hours are "Every Saturday nine to five; anytime by chance; anytime by appointment."

Imelda at Greenish Lady tagged me for this meme: Rules: The rules of the game get posted at the beginning. Each player answers the questions about himself or herself. At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. Ten years ago: Thank heavens, I still have my 1998 calendar because my memory for these things get a bit fuzzy. Here goes. May 1998: My husband had his one-year post-cancer surgery check-up. It was negative – much to our relief I was running around participating in my older son's Dry Grad events and fundraisers; and driving my younger son to and from orthodontic appointments (x4) I went to a performance of "Stars On Ice" starring: · Kurt Browning · Brian Orser · Steven Cousins · Ekaterina Gordeeva · Josee Chouinard · Shae-Lynn Bourne & Victor Kraatz · Isabelle Brasseur & Lloyd Eisler · E...

Shadows. I'm not afraid of dark and light flickering on the walls of black cats and shadow people poltergeists and ghosts campfire, Halloween and Grimm's tales unbidden from the mind and things that go bump in the night. I'm not afraid. They disappear at first light Don't they? For First 50 Words

Mother's Day has passed and I've spent the last few days reading blogs and articles about mothers. It has put me in an introspective mood about my own mother. Mother's Day is one of the few occasions I think about my mother. The other times are when something significant happens in my life - like the birth of my sons, the death of my father – or when someone comments on how much I look like her. This latter happens less often now as I get further past the age when she died. My grey hair and increasing wrinkles are gradually obscuring what was once clear and unmistakeable. She died when I was about twenty months old. I say "about twenty months" because I've never received a straight answer from my relatives about the exact date. Her gravestone only states the year of her death. From overheard stories, I've gleaned she became ill around Christmas and died shortly after in the following year. Thus, my guess. I have no memories of her. What I know ...

“Nothing.” “There’s no such thing as doing nothing.” “I’m just reading.” “There. You see? That’s not nothing. Reading is something.” “Okay, okay. I’m not doing nothing. I’m doing something; and that something is reading. Happy now?” “I only asked a simple question. Why can’t you just answer a simple question?” Lately, all their arguments started like this. For First 50 Words

I was out walking with dh on one of our port stops last week. On vacation, we like to walk as much as possible and consider ourselves quite fit. We walk at a fairly good clip and tend to overtake and pass most saunterers. This walk was along a popular scenic route in Victoria and several other couples were walking a few metres ahead of us. We were slowly gaining ground on them, when suddenly, one of the couples stopped abruptly in front of us, mid-intersection. We skittered quickly around them - a truck was coming - and we said "car coming" as we passed. The stopped couple, meanwhile, was looking up at a tree; totally oblivious to the truck trying to turn the corner. Now, I must give credit to the truck driver who didn't honk or yell, but rolled forward slowly, waiting for them to get out of the way. They didn't. Not until their companions yelled at them, did they look around and move out of the way. My dh turned to me and said, "I hope we're not like...

I like to think I'm open to new ideas and the use of new technology. I hum along using current technology, perfectly happy and rather smug that I've mastered new gizmos and the concurrent jargon when, WHAM, it's obsolete. The shift-over starts insidiously enough. A few brave souls try out the new technology. It's usually clunky, not that efficient and prone to problems. More people jump on the bandwagon and the technology improves. Then it's like a switch gets flipped. One minute everyone is using the old ABC, the next, they're using the new XYZ. Think about the switch-overs of vinyl LPs to cassette tapes; cassette tapes to CDs; typewriters to word processors; VHS tapes to CDs/DVDs; dot matrix printers to laser; rooftop TV antennas to cable. The list is endless. I'm not exactly sure when everyone else changed from using rotary dial telephones to push button touchtone phones. I only know that our family must have been one of the last holdouts for rota...

Santa Catalina is awaitin' for me" I'm sitting in the lobby coffee bar. Classical music is playing in the background and I'm settling into this peaceful oasis, gazing out the windows, savouring a caramel macchiato. But wait, two couples have converged and are sitting immediately behind me. They are starting a loud conversation - a very loud conversation. They are trying to explain the history of Avalon and Catalina Island to the barrista. I keep hearing snippets of conversation about Wrigley and Wrigley Stadium, dances and casinos. I'm having trouble concentrating. Aaaak. I cannot write. Okay, I've now moved two decks up to a lounge with windows looking out to the Promenade. My fellow loungers (loungees) consist of readers and one couple who look like they're waiting for somebody. The man across from me has a leather-bound journal on the table in front of him and is reading a book by Michael Connelly. I can't quite make out the title, but he seems fairl...

It's May 1st and I've made it through another tax season. Didn't I write a similar post last year? Like my grandfather, I'm repeating myself more and more - something I swore I'd never do - sometimes realizing it - just as often, not. I didn't take into account slower brain synapses and all the convoluted pathways (from all the deep thinking, no doubt) doubling back on themselves in endless automatic playback loops. I just made that up - but it sounds plausible, doesn't it? Anyways, I'll have to go back and check. I digress. Where was I? Oh, right. Finished tax season. In the midst of it all, it seemed like we'd never see the end of it, but we always manage to get everything that needs to be done, done. Somehow. At the moment, my brain is still decompressing. About forty-eight hours ago, my head felt about the size of a twenty pound Halloween pumpkin with accompanying demented, fixed, jack-o-lantern grin. I actually slept in to 7 a.m. this ...