Just Me

Nothing fancy. Nothing Inspiring. Nothing really...

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Thirty Two Thousand Six Hundred Sixty Three

That is how many days my Grandpa lived for.

His last one being Saturday.

That's how many days of
and loving
he lived.

Still being raw,
I'll just put up this picture
I took on a wonderful visit in August

to say one of many goodbyes
I'm going to be making.

See ya grampa, you were one of a kind.
Love pamula

Monday, January 14, 2008


Well, I did it. I made the big mistake.
I thought that if I was with a big group of people, if it was the middle of the afternoonish, and if I was seeing 5 other movies in the same day I could go watch a scary 'thriller' on Movie Day.

It looks nice, doesn't it?

Bad idea.
Not only was is scary, but I can NOT stop thinking about it!

I convinced myself because it had a bit to do with post-apocalypse circumstances, I would be able to handle it.
Because I am now married and do not have to sleep by myself, I would be fine.
Because I am now a grown up (and grown ups can control their imagination no matter how overactive), it would be okay.
Oh, sooooo wrong.

If you can handle suspense, scary killing things and darkness and like more storyline and less fighting in a post-apocalyptic setting, go see 'I Am Legend'.

If not, save yourself the trouble.

I am going to board up my windows for the night while Don is at a meeting.

Friday, January 04, 2008

And the ducks go by...

Glancing at Michele's bird posts I was reminded of when we-and by we I mean my dad- rescued 3 tiny ducklings from the beach at our cabin about 10 years ago.

They totally had personalities.

The first we named Napolean-not only because he was the smallest but because he would just up and waddle away and the other two followed him relentlessly.

The second we named teaspoon-just a cute name for a little sweetheart-she loved to cuddle up in the crook of your arm & chirp herself to sleep anytime.

Thirdly was Lazybones-the biggest one would always be at the end of the line, a little behind & would randomly just stop following and plop down on his fuzzy little behind.

We had such fun with those little birds-they were washed up on shore and there momma couldn't rescue them or she'd lead all their little siblings to strandation as well. My dad put them in a box when the seagulls started circling. They were so new-the little egg shell breakers hadn't worn off the end of their beaks yet. We fed them grass & water and then realized what they really loved was to 'catch' dead bugs in the rain filled wheelbarrow. We cuddled them on the couches. We let them follow us in a line around the cabin. We cursed them at night when they wouldn't stop chirp chirping. We took them swimming with us in the lake. We buried one after a tragic accident with a foot (RIP Napolean).

When we got back into the city and realized we couldn't raise 2 ducks in our suburban neighbourhood, we had a bittersweet trip out to fortwhyte centre. They made us feel good about giving up our babies by thanking us for bringing in two 'rare' ducklings (Blue Winged Teals) and helping them survive. We even went back a couple months later and were still able to find our two now adolescent, almost fully feathered beauties.

It is still and will stay one of the best memories of my childhood.

Good things to remember for a cold January night.