You may think from the title that I have nothing to say. Not so.
I bought a long-sleeved red cotton sweater at the Church Thrift a week or so ago. I liked it very much. It had a white stripe down each sleeve and the words, in white, No Comment, over the heart area. I don't think your heart goes that far to the left so let's just say it was at the top of my left breast, for clarity. Anyway, I enjoyed wearing that shirt and hoped I could point to the No Comment words, should the occasion arise.
The occasion arose sooner than I may have wished. I was shopping up at Parkgate at the Safeway store. I was carrying a small bag with a couple of potatoes and a carton of milk. I'm up there most days so I don't have to buy much at any given time. Anyway, as I was strolling towards my car, an older man stopped me and enquired if I would.....and I won't repeat what he said in case children read this blog. What he wanted me to do would certainly be inappropriate in the Safeway parking lot and indeed even in a dark alley. I pointed to my No Comment words on my shirt because I had no desire to discuss his demands with him. He peered at me and asked why I was pointing to my breast. Wouldn't you know a pervert like that would have poor vision. Just my luck. I told him it said Fuck Off and he said why didn't you say so in the first place. He wandered away.
Proceeding with the No Comment scenario, I have no comments on my new blog. My nephew's wife, Kim, (I guess she would be called my niece-in-law if I didn't want to call her Kim) emailed me the other day to say she enjoyed my blog very much, tried to make a comment on one of the postings, but had no success. I told her I would try to fix that, or at least ask Paul if he could do it. I also told her I have no problem with bad comments or good comments and related a story from years ago when a fellow at the SeaBus terminal called me a bitch, for a reason I can no longer remember. Anyway, I thanked him because no one had ever called me a bitch before. He looked alarmed as he stalked off, presumably thinking I had mental issues.
In closing, comment s'il vous plait.
Sunday, October 27, 2019
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
DREAM INTERPRETATION
October 21, 2019, dated by my sister Frances, who is a stickler for such things, as I said before. Here is her interpretation of my dream.
The office where you used to work seems to symbolize a time in your life when you were "safe" in doing what is known and expected of you. But secretly, your real creative nature was always with you but kept in a drawer away from the demands of your male animus side who is now threatening you if you don't allow his familiarity with what your creative side has developed. Once he consciously acquires this information, it is possible that he will make decisions or demands to remove you from a state of complacency where all the chapters are kept "safe" in a drawer.
In the outer office, leaving the containment of the workspace, you make a move to console Bear, your own personal creation, but find that Bear is now a black cat. A black cat has magical properties and may be viewed as entirely good or bad. Thus, the creation, Bear, may prove to be the doorway to a variety of future happenings as you accept the significance of Bear's role.
The woman who has "helped you" in your old work environment is part of your background life. She does not create but presents a non-accusatory presence; is safety personified and will not try to force you to more aggressive action if you allow her to read the first chapter.
The man who storms in demanding direction to the entrance (to the past life) is told by you that you do not have a front (conscious) entrance, that you are closed and that part of your life is closed. Then, a helpful woman with whom you used to work, appears and offers to help the irate man. She sums it up when she says not to worry, "you've had enough." The old job and way of life is gone forever. You are embracing the new life in the form of your creation.
The office where you used to work seems to symbolize a time in your life when you were "safe" in doing what is known and expected of you. But secretly, your real creative nature was always with you but kept in a drawer away from the demands of your male animus side who is now threatening you if you don't allow his familiarity with what your creative side has developed. Once he consciously acquires this information, it is possible that he will make decisions or demands to remove you from a state of complacency where all the chapters are kept "safe" in a drawer.
In the outer office, leaving the containment of the workspace, you make a move to console Bear, your own personal creation, but find that Bear is now a black cat. A black cat has magical properties and may be viewed as entirely good or bad. Thus, the creation, Bear, may prove to be the doorway to a variety of future happenings as you accept the significance of Bear's role.
The woman who has "helped you" in your old work environment is part of your background life. She does not create but presents a non-accusatory presence; is safety personified and will not try to force you to more aggressive action if you allow her to read the first chapter.
The man who storms in demanding direction to the entrance (to the past life) is told by you that you do not have a front (conscious) entrance, that you are closed and that part of your life is closed. Then, a helpful woman with whom you used to work, appears and offers to help the irate man. She sums it up when she says not to worry, "you've had enough." The old job and way of life is gone forever. You are embracing the new life in the form of your creation.
Monday, October 21, 2019
DREAM ON
Bear, I had a hideous dream about our book on March 14, 2019. I mention the date because my sister always presses home the importance of dating everything.
Anyway, the dream as I recall involved a man at the office, where I no longer work as you know because I am retired, who threatened me somehow if I didn't let him read our book. A woman, also from the office, had "helped me" greatly and I felt compelled to let her read the first chapter, which I kept in a drawer. In fact, all the chapters were there.
Later, I am sitting in the outer office trying to console you, Bear, but you are now a black cat.
A man storms in, shouting where's the entrance as he has some important car insurance to handle. I told him we don't have a front entrance, and we are closed, but I'll take you back and get you some help. Suddenly, a woman like Val who I used to work with, appears and takes the man and said she'll help me. I'm not to worry, she said, you've had enough.
Anyway, the dream as I recall involved a man at the office, where I no longer work as you know because I am retired, who threatened me somehow if I didn't let him read our book. A woman, also from the office, had "helped me" greatly and I felt compelled to let her read the first chapter, which I kept in a drawer. In fact, all the chapters were there.
Later, I am sitting in the outer office trying to console you, Bear, but you are now a black cat.
A man storms in, shouting where's the entrance as he has some important car insurance to handle. I told him we don't have a front entrance, and we are closed, but I'll take you back and get you some help. Suddenly, a woman like Val who I used to work with, appears and takes the man and said she'll help me. I'm not to worry, she said, you've had enough.
Saturday, October 19, 2019
BEAR IS BACK IN MY THOUGHTS
"Good morning, Bum. Where have you been?" asked Bear as I passed his driveway.
"You startled me, Bear," admonished Bum.
"Where have you been?" repeated Bear. "I haven't seen you since your boyfriend left."
"I don't walk this way so much," answered Bum.
"Why not?" asked Bear. He just can't let anything rest. Nosy bugger, thought Bum.
"The birds attacked me up the street near the corner, if you must know."
"What!!" exclaimed Bear.
Bum repeated, "The birds attacked me."
"Crows, I suppose," said Bear.
"Yes," Bum said. "my sister thinks they remember me."
"What do they remember, Bum?"
"I threw a stone at a crow once. He was getting into our garbage bag, placed at the curb for pickup. He'd made a real mess, tearing open the top and pulling bits of our garbage out, and scattering it nearby. I had to re-bag the mess."
"That's nasty," muttered Bear.
"Indeed." Bum went on, "I've tried wearing different coloured clothes, as a disguise, wouldn't you know. That didn't work. It's the whump, whump sound the crow makes as he attacks that I dread. Luckily, the last time I was carrying an umbrella and after two passes at me, I managed to snap the umbrella up on the third pass and that ended it."
"That's more than nasty, Bum."
"Enough about the bloody crows, Bear. How have you been?"
"Quiet," said Bear, and then continued, "My master has been away for a few months in the U.S.A. It's some kind of course to help retired fly boys."
"God, that sounds dull. I can't think of anything worse than spending hours and months attending courses."
"He's giving the courses, Bum," said Bear with a bit of a smirk.
Bum thought a moment, digesting this information, and then said, "no walks for you then, Bear?"
"No."
Bum pressed on, "so what do you do instead, or does your master's wife take you for walks?"
"No."
"You don't have much to say for yourself, Bear."
"No."
"Would you stop, Bear?"
"What?" said Bear crossly.
"Stop saying No to everything I say."
"Yes," muttered Bear.
"Yes, and you'll stop?" said Bum.
"Yes."
They stopped talking for a bit, both thinking I suppose.
Bum couldn't not talk for long, so said, "I've finished our book, Bear."
"That's great, Bum. Is it published yet?"
"No, of course not, Bear. It's in the hands of our editor, Paul, my nephew you know."
"How's that going?" enquired Bear.
"Slowly." Before Bear could comment on slowness, which he abhors, Bum moved away saying, "I must go, see you tomorrow." and that was that.
"You startled me, Bear," admonished Bum.
"Where have you been?" repeated Bear. "I haven't seen you since your boyfriend left."
"I don't walk this way so much," answered Bum.
"Why not?" asked Bear. He just can't let anything rest. Nosy bugger, thought Bum.
"The birds attacked me up the street near the corner, if you must know."
"What!!" exclaimed Bear.
Bum repeated, "The birds attacked me."
"Crows, I suppose," said Bear.
"Yes," Bum said. "my sister thinks they remember me."
"What do they remember, Bum?"
"I threw a stone at a crow once. He was getting into our garbage bag, placed at the curb for pickup. He'd made a real mess, tearing open the top and pulling bits of our garbage out, and scattering it nearby. I had to re-bag the mess."
"That's nasty," muttered Bear.
"Indeed." Bum went on, "I've tried wearing different coloured clothes, as a disguise, wouldn't you know. That didn't work. It's the whump, whump sound the crow makes as he attacks that I dread. Luckily, the last time I was carrying an umbrella and after two passes at me, I managed to snap the umbrella up on the third pass and that ended it."
"That's more than nasty, Bum."
"Enough about the bloody crows, Bear. How have you been?"
"Quiet," said Bear, and then continued, "My master has been away for a few months in the U.S.A. It's some kind of course to help retired fly boys."
"God, that sounds dull. I can't think of anything worse than spending hours and months attending courses."
"He's giving the courses, Bum," said Bear with a bit of a smirk.
Bum thought a moment, digesting this information, and then said, "no walks for you then, Bear?"
"No."
Bum pressed on, "so what do you do instead, or does your master's wife take you for walks?"
"No."
"You don't have much to say for yourself, Bear."
"No."
"Would you stop, Bear?"
"What?" said Bear crossly.
"Stop saying No to everything I say."
"Yes," muttered Bear.
"Yes, and you'll stop?" said Bum.
"Yes."
They stopped talking for a bit, both thinking I suppose.
Bum couldn't not talk for long, so said, "I've finished our book, Bear."
"That's great, Bum. Is it published yet?"
"No, of course not, Bear. It's in the hands of our editor, Paul, my nephew you know."
"How's that going?" enquired Bear.
"Slowly." Before Bear could comment on slowness, which he abhors, Bum moved away saying, "I must go, see you tomorrow." and that was that.
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
READER'S REPORT
On 16 June 2018, Jackie received a Reader's Report on her book from her nephew, Paul Vitols. In it, he said "The purpose of this document is to record impressions on reading draft 1 of My Imaginary Dog, and sketch ideas for what to do next.
The contents of this report are:
. Story Structure
. Story Analysis
. Strengths
. Things to Work On
. Possible Strategies
. Thinking It Through
. Recommendations
. Things to Consider
. Further Thoughts
. Next Steps"
Wow, thought Jackie. I need Bear.
.
The contents of this report are:
. Story Structure
. Story Analysis
. Strengths
. Things to Work On
. Possible Strategies
. Thinking It Through
. Recommendations
. Things to Consider
. Further Thoughts
. Next Steps"
Wow, thought Jackie. I need Bear.
.
Saturday, October 12, 2019
OUR EDITOR
Hi again Blog:
I finished writing my book called My Imaginary Dog, draft 1 that is, and asked my nephew, Paul Vitols, if he would edit it for me and Bear. Yes, he said, so I sent him a copy.
Weeks passed, or was it months, before Paul emailed me. He said he read my book slowly and carefully, as is his way, and that he enjoyed it very much, high praise from a man who reads and writes mostly about people and events from Before Christ.
Bear jumped in here and said "Is he the right person to edit our book, Bum?" and looked somewhat dubious after hearing about that Before Christ stuff.
"Paul is a very good writer, in fact exceptional. He's good at syntax, grammar, tenses, and story structure," said Bum. "You know, all that bullshit you need to know to produce an excellent product. Furthermore, he has written a couple of TV shows, short stories, etc., and he is more than competent to organize a book into manuscript form, ready for e-book or to have published."
"Oh," said Bear.
"Yes, Oh," responded Bum.
Bum and Bear agree that they have their editor, and a good one. Let the editing begin.
I finished writing my book called My Imaginary Dog, draft 1 that is, and asked my nephew, Paul Vitols, if he would edit it for me and Bear. Yes, he said, so I sent him a copy.
Weeks passed, or was it months, before Paul emailed me. He said he read my book slowly and carefully, as is his way, and that he enjoyed it very much, high praise from a man who reads and writes mostly about people and events from Before Christ.
Bear jumped in here and said "Is he the right person to edit our book, Bum?" and looked somewhat dubious after hearing about that Before Christ stuff.
"Paul is a very good writer, in fact exceptional. He's good at syntax, grammar, tenses, and story structure," said Bum. "You know, all that bullshit you need to know to produce an excellent product. Furthermore, he has written a couple of TV shows, short stories, etc., and he is more than competent to organize a book into manuscript form, ready for e-book or to have published."
"Oh," said Bear.
"Yes, Oh," responded Bum.
Bum and Bear agree that they have their editor, and a good one. Let the editing begin.
Friday, October 11, 2019
ME TOO
Hi Blog, my name is Bear. I am Jackie's imaginary dog.
In our book, Jackie calls herself Janey because she doesn't want anyone to know it is her. She is a somewhat secretive person. Jackie's nephew recommended that she get herself a blog and came up with the title, editingwithmyimaginarydog.blogspot.com. Her nephew said that it is unlikely that anyone will read it because no one reads his. Jackie is good with that because she is a private person.
When I discussed with Jackie the merit of having a blog, in light of her nephew's comments,she said she wants somewhere to write down her conversation with me because she hopes I will help with the edit of our book. She also said she has no desire to have her blog go postal. Sheesh, she means go viral, of course, and I told her so. She's fairly intelligent but often gets words like this wrong, part of her charm I guess. To emphasize the difference, I explained that going postal means she would be wearing a clown suit in a high tower with a high-powered rifle. Always the optimist, she said maybe postal would force more readers to read our book. Good grief, as Snoopy would say.
To get back to the point of my posting on this blog, on the second or third day of our walk up Strathcona, we stopped at the blue church, and because it was warm, Jackie/Janey removed her sweater. I noticed a mark on the shoulder of the blouse she was wearing. She was affronted because she said it is her logo, not a mark. Using her initials, JL, she mended a small hole in the blouse and placed a flower on top, sort of like Picasso, she said, which I thought was a reach.
I looked at it more carefully and said, "it looks like a bum." I called her Bum ever after.
Life began for my imaginary friend, Bum.
In our book, Jackie calls herself Janey because she doesn't want anyone to know it is her. She is a somewhat secretive person. Jackie's nephew recommended that she get herself a blog and came up with the title, editingwithmyimaginarydog.blogspot.com. Her nephew said that it is unlikely that anyone will read it because no one reads his. Jackie is good with that because she is a private person.
When I discussed with Jackie the merit of having a blog, in light of her nephew's comments,she said she wants somewhere to write down her conversation with me because she hopes I will help with the edit of our book. She also said she has no desire to have her blog go postal. Sheesh, she means go viral, of course, and I told her so. She's fairly intelligent but often gets words like this wrong, part of her charm I guess. To emphasize the difference, I explained that going postal means she would be wearing a clown suit in a high tower with a high-powered rifle. Always the optimist, she said maybe postal would force more readers to read our book. Good grief, as Snoopy would say.
To get back to the point of my posting on this blog, on the second or third day of our walk up Strathcona, we stopped at the blue church, and because it was warm, Jackie/Janey removed her sweater. I noticed a mark on the shoulder of the blouse she was wearing. She was affronted because she said it is her logo, not a mark. Using her initials, JL, she mended a small hole in the blouse and placed a flower on top, sort of like Picasso, she said, which I thought was a reach.
I looked at it more carefully and said, "it looks like a bum." I called her Bum ever after.
Life began for my imaginary friend, Bum.
Thursday, October 10, 2019
HI BLOG
My name is Jackie. I will be your writer today.
I met a dog on my walk today at the foot of Seymour Mountain.
This is the first sentence in a book I have written called My Imaginary Dog. In 2007, I retired. To keep fit, I decided to walk Monday to Friday up and down the streets of Deep Cove where I live. I carried a little book with me, and when I stopped halfway on my walk, usually at the small blue church up on Deep Cove Road, which is gone now, I made a few notes about the people and dogs I met on my walks.
One day, I was passing a bush near the end of a driveway of one of the many houses fronting the sidewalk where I walk. The sidewalk was just starting its uphill climb. I slowed when a dog appeared. Unattended dogs make me nervous.
"What's your name?" I asked, hoping to keep him at bay.
There was no reply. He turned away.
His owner, who was sipping coffee, called out from the deck over his garage, "His name is Artos. I see you walk by here most mornings and you're back in about 30 minutes."
The long and short of our conversation was that I agreed to walk his dog for $10.00 a day.
We started our walk that day and I called him Bear. He questioned his new name and I told him the old Celtic word for bear is artos.
My imaginary dog's life began.
I met a dog on my walk today at the foot of Seymour Mountain.
This is the first sentence in a book I have written called My Imaginary Dog. In 2007, I retired. To keep fit, I decided to walk Monday to Friday up and down the streets of Deep Cove where I live. I carried a little book with me, and when I stopped halfway on my walk, usually at the small blue church up on Deep Cove Road, which is gone now, I made a few notes about the people and dogs I met on my walks.
One day, I was passing a bush near the end of a driveway of one of the many houses fronting the sidewalk where I walk. The sidewalk was just starting its uphill climb. I slowed when a dog appeared. Unattended dogs make me nervous.
"What's your name?" I asked, hoping to keep him at bay.
There was no reply. He turned away.
His owner, who was sipping coffee, called out from the deck over his garage, "His name is Artos. I see you walk by here most mornings and you're back in about 30 minutes."
The long and short of our conversation was that I agreed to walk his dog for $10.00 a day.
We started our walk that day and I called him Bear. He questioned his new name and I told him the old Celtic word for bear is artos.
My imaginary dog's life began.
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