There once was a funeral home.
I like to listen to my dad’s stories. He’s travelled and held interesting jobs in exotic locations. Then he met my mother and settled as a social studies teacher in the Fraser Valley of British Columbia, working that job until retirement at sixty-three. He trained as a teacher before he left New Zealand as a young man seeking adventure, and added a few other lines … Continue reading There once was a funeral home.
Tidal panic attacks – they ebb and flow – an off-the-cuff joint.
I’ve had four solid panic attacks over the last two weeks. Sometimes, you’ll get a hint of one pending but you can head it off. This was not the case here. They’re all connected to foster parenting, and the fear I’m doing something wrong or have made a mistake. My brain is not a fan of the mistake, and since everything I’m doing right now … Continue reading Tidal panic attacks – they ebb and flow – an off-the-cuff joint.
Wednesday Wisdom
Sometimes I feel like the set of World Book encyclopedias in my basement – and no, not blue with gold edges. I’m a font of useful information I’m unable to share. At least with the people in my circle. Such is the lot of the parent. Such is the lot of the middle-aged woman. Few want to hear what we have to say. Grammarly asks … Continue reading Wednesday Wisdom
The pub at the end of the week, an off-the-cuff joint.
I have two kiddos in care living in my home right now. My life has suddenly become one of busy schedules and outside demands. I talked about fostering a lot with my counsellor before I committed. We talked about television dreams and reality. On television and in the movies, the terror, trauma, grief, and distress of the children in care are minimized or absent. Imagine … Continue reading The pub at the end of the week, an off-the-cuff joint.
From Famine to Feast 