Wazhat! Wahzat!

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None of it is original

I believe in the theory that all ideas and innovations exist in a deep swirling pool lurking somewhere over our heads that is available for all of us to dip into. It is quite possible for more than one person to reach for the same idea at the same time. Because each person is different the results usually comes out vastly different.

Well that is assuming that each person does something with the idea.

I am reminded of this on a daily basis. Just today in fact I was playing with an idea for some Christmas cards (along with my writing I am attempting to reboot my artistic painting side) and as I open my instagram there is a similar look to what I was thinking. Arrrgggh.

Fortunately, I have adopted another philosophy- Your work will always be different, even the result looks similar to someones reproduction,  simply because you are different and you put your stamp on it.


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To give or not to give

Deuteronomy 15:7 – 11
7 If there be among you a poor man of one of thy brethren within any of thy gates in thy land which the LORD thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not harden thine heart, nor shut thine hand from thy poor brother:
8 But thou shalt open thine hand wide unto him, and shalt surely lend him sufficient for his need, [in that] which he wanteth.
9 Beware that there be not a thought in thy wicked heart, saying, The seventh year, the year of release, is at hand; and thine eye be evil against thy poor brother, and thou givest him nought; and he cry unto the LORD against thee, and it be sin unto thee.
10 Thou shalt surely give him, and thine heart shall not be grieved when thou givest unto him: because that for this thing the LORD thy God shall bless thee in all thy works, and in all that thou puttest thine hand unto.
11 For the poor shall never cease out of the land: therefore I command thee, saying, Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy, in thy land.

I struggle with this daily. Not because I don’t want to give. If i have I share. Even if I don’t have I figure out how to share it is how I have been raised.

However where I live now it is not really the most wise thing to be so generous. My neighbourhood can be described as middle class residential.  And in the Caribbean residential areas are unfortunately riddled with petty thievery or full on break-ins, robbery and very creative begging.

One day I went outside and to my horror there was this man intently rummaging through my garbage. Did I mention I was horrified?! I instantly called to  him to stop and move away from the garbage bins and his response… “But I am hungry!”

I was crushed, I couldn’t fathom the depths you have to be in to not care where you get your meal as long as you could eat.

So I have three unsavoury, dirty and possibly mentally ill persons that come to my gate at least once a week and I give them a sandwich, a drink or a plate from the pot. I do this and I feel good but I also feel apprehension because as much as I want to help I also don’t want them to become too familiar or worse do something wacky like jump the gate and harm us.

My neighbours and the gardener don’t appreciate that I do this. Doesn’t help that it is the Christmas season and that means that crime tends to step up. Add an unfortunate robbery turned tragic and now even my family is No more giving food at the gate. No More.

Which brings me to my quandary. Wanting to give. to share . But not wanting to be used. And wanting to be safe.



I am a procrastinator


I suffer from this daily. Procrastination and for some reason since last year, I think August, lack of motivation. I have no motivation what so ever to do anything and yes that includes eating. Have you noticed eating requires a lot of thought, process and energy and most day I rather not do it… yes I am very good at ignoring stomache rumbles.

I miss my blogging, my writing and I have ideas and thoughts that are just aching to be shared yet nothing o I  thought that to kickstart me and get me back on track I would force myself to blog every day as part of
NaBloPoMo November 2015

But you can see how that is going Day 5 of November and only 2 posts. Sigh but I am at least making an effort which is better than giving into the urge to scroll through, Facebook, Pinterest and Instagram yes I am addicted to those sites oh and playing  Inside Out Though Bubbles (Shhh yes I know my age ) and Ruzzle on my phone.

Going to try to get that motivation going and get myself doing more and more and thus allowing for my other spaces to be attended as well.


Two quotes  I have been enjoying today and no I don’t know who wrote them found them both on Instagram and they were not quoted.

“Be in love with your life every minute of it.”


“What the mind


the body achieves.”

Good day all.

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All Soul’s Day

Today is All Soul’s Day.

I almost forgot.

It is a tradition I believe Catholic , most definitely Trinidadian Catholic, to light a candle on this day/night to help guide the souls who weren’t there yet to heaven.

I always love the idea that my little candle could shine so bright to guide a soul along it’s way.

Thinking of my Grannie, both my Grannies actually, Mr. C, my Grandfathers and my Uncle Laird. ( and Desmond and Mrs. Smith)

Eternal Rest Grant onto them Oh Lord May Perpetual Light Shine upon them May they rest in Peace



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Aha moment

I am Catholic. Actually just a hair or two away from what can be considered staunch.

When I was younger I got a very strong feeling that I should become a nun…..

I fought it.

Because I just wanted to experience childbirth. Once.

It hit me this weekend, that God who is always infinitely wiser than us all, not only let me off from that particular calling but said well you want children take 4. LOL

I am indeed very blessed.


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On death

my father in law died.

4 weeks ago I went to his room to give him coffee

and he was dead.

I had never seen some one in that state.

Going cold yet still a tinge of warmth remaining.

Oh …. death is so final.

It was so unexpected to me, I was unprepared

i felt as if I was hit by a canon ball to the chest.

I was, I am so shocked by the tumble of emotions that invaded by brain mostly those of regret and remorse.

I don’t remember what I said to him the night before he passed I just remember being so annoyed with him because of his fan.

And it makes me so sad.

I really thought that there was more time.

But time was up

and now even though I don’t show it it feels as if my heart is crying.

A cloud of grey seems to have encased my entire being. I am filled with gloom.

I think the most surprising thing of all to me is how much his not being here has impacted me.

I honestly didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

and I never realized how much of my brain space and daily routine he took up.

I keep making meals for him or shopping for him in mind.

I almost feel like if I am losing my mind.


All those things that people say to people in an attempt to console the living such as- They are in a better place; It was his time; He had a full life so it is good. While can be comforting a little Really really doesn’t make it any better or easier for you the living. It does help the person saying it though ( I have learned)

Every single person grieves differently, reacts to death differently and manages it differently.

Yes it sounds like I said the same thing 3 different ways but it is different.

I have woken up every day since and thought ‘Yup, he is still dead.’ and I feel tears.

Instead of the grief and pain numbing or going away it feels for me that it is growing like a snowball would if it is rolling down a hill. Slow, slow and then very fast getting bigger and bigger.


I got solace from this:


Death is just so final.






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My dog.

My fifth child (as I call him sometimes) bit me.

Yes me! on my hand.

I have counted about 15 puncture wounds and one large gash.

A gash that required some sutures to hold the skin together.

It was such a painful experience.

I felt like a big baby as I cried freely, blubbering as the nurse washed off the wound.

As I sat there helplessly applying pressure to and elevating my hand going through my head was Stupid dog ! Why did i get bite? Wow that happened so fast! A perfectly normal Father’s Day Sunday just totally destroyed. Thank God it wasn’t one of the children!

Of course I know why I was bitten. The poor dog got his foot laced through the wrought iron grill and he was yelping in pain and thought I was going to hurt him more so he bit and bit me hard! Sigh

It was a really surreal experience.

Not having my right hand to use has been really frustrating and kinda humbling. I need help with everything from eating to bathing. Putting on clothes has been interesting, lots of strapless dresses.

i really wondered what lesson i was to learn from this experience and then I realized that for an entire week no one looked at me for anything.

I lay in bed with my hand propped up all day (I couldn’t even wiggle the other fingers for awhile) and it was okay. There was no guilt on my part because I honestly couldn’t help anyone because along with the pain the painkillers knocked me out which was a good thing because the stress of the dog bite experience cause me to wheeze which always always drains me.  And there was no guilt from the children as they were so traumatized by the whole thing they wanted me to stay in bed and get better. The white bandage was a reminder that they rather not see. LOL

But from the experience I learned that the house would not fall apart if I took a break. And I think my husband learned that I do do alot because he had to take up the slack.

I also learned that my eldest daughter can make a really good cup of tea. And she sure can comb her sisters hair well.

It seems strange to think that just maybe God decided that I needed to stay at home in my bed for a week.

Keeping a positive outlook

and happy to report that 9 days later I can type and write a little. I still cant over do but it looks like my hand would heal and be back to normal with just a scar to remind me.






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