Author Archives: Sarah

heron

heron
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Walking home from school after lunch, I look beside me at Goose Poop Pond and there it is.

A beautiful Blue Heron.

When I first spy it, it is walking, each step carefully taken with long legs through green water.

But when it knows I am there, it stops and waits.

I move along.

 

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ding

ding
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February 14, 2013
Amount due: $63.09
March 14, 2013
Amount due: $92.41

They tell you, when you call this time – and you must call often – that you were getting a special rate but that special rate is now over.  

When you say, This wasn’t ever referred to as a special rate before now, they tell you:  Yes it was.

no itwasn’t yes it was no it wasn’t yes it was.

You ask: Why didn’t you let me know the ‘special rate’was over? and they say:  We did tell you.  By email.

no you didn’t yes we did no you didn’t yes we did.

Those emails were lost somewhere in the Internet wilderness.  Yet my e-bills always managed to find my inbox.

If any other business conducted themselves the way Bell does, they would go broke or be under review by some fair business board.

Time to ditch them.

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la-vay voo on rose?

la-vay voo on rose?
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Is it just me or is any other woman offended with the suggestion that the only phrase I need know worldwide is ‘Does it come in pink’?

Love the recommendation that no man wants his penis identified as ‘adorable’.

The naked guy on the card was part of a deck, a joke present from girls I worked with.  I particularly liked this one as he had a place to hang his hat.

I fuzzed it out (apologies).  My kids check out my blog.  

 

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patti

patti
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My daughter takes a break from her speculative fiction to read my copy of Patti Boyd’s ‘Wonderful Tonight’.

I love her interest in things that I too am interested but I balked initially at this.  My eleven year old is going to read about heroin addiction, infidelity and rock star wife swapping (Patti was married to George Harrison and then she was married to Eric Clapton).

So we talk about it as she moves through it.

On the walk to her bus stop, she told me that she feels sorry for George.  That she would never have left George Harrison.  I tell her:

“Wait till you start listening to Eric Clapton.”

 

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TO, again

TO, again
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I go into the city.  Doctor stuff.

The walk up University.

It is cold.

My building.  My last time, as my most wonderful doctor tells me that he is retiring.  He tells me he is going bungee jumping.

How nice to know Aaron and the kids are waiting for me a block away.

We head to the Eaton’s Centre.  We discuss who Mr. Eaton was.

We shop.

Then, we eat.

Been a long time since I’ve been to Mister Greenjeans.

Max bought a watch.  

We shop more, head home.

The view from the GO platform.

Then the train arrives.

I’m sad my doctor is retiring.   I will miss him.

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