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Archive for the ‘Writers’ Category

Give A Little, Get A Lot

Posted in Blogging, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Relationships, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , , on November 8, 2013| 8 Comments »

It should be no surprise when I tell you that my good friend Jim won the little contest I held the other day. Actually, I’ve never met Jim, nor had any kind of interaction with him until my post (and his comment) on my last entry, but I’m hoping, as I am with many of you, that we will now share a bond through writing (and reading) and the hike we are all on towards our own personal summits, wherever we wish to end up.

The deal was, the first person to like and comment on that post would win a highly acclaimed book that I have read, enjoyed and learned from, called; “On Writing” by Stephen King.

On Writing Stephen King

As soon as there was a winner, off to Amazon I skipped to order a brand-spankin’ new copy. Mine is hi-lited and marked up the yazoo and although I’m sure I’ve picked only the utmost important snippets, I was positive Jim would prefer a shiny new one. Generous of me, huh?

Well, Jim one-upped me with this:

“What I would appreciate you doing is donate it to a group or agency that you think would really enjoy it and put my name inside it along with how it got there. That would be great. it’s not that I don’t appreciate the gift but I would like to give it to those who are less likely to be able to obtain a copy. When you find a home for it could you let me know where it went.”

I know, right? I’m a schmuck! I knew that most writer’s would already own a copy of this book (duh) but figured that would be the case with most any writing book I picked and I was particularly entertained by this one, so I figured, meh – he’ll gift it to a friend or simply accept the fact that he now has two copies and move on…as I often do when I accidentally by a book that I already have. (Oops, was that my outside voice?)

But no, not Mr. Jim. He came up with a much better, much more grand-hearted idea than mine and it’s not because he already owns it. In fact, I don’t think he even clicked the link to find out what he’d won. (In his email he also admitted to being a tad challenged technically) He just genuinely wanted to give the book to someone with less resource and I am grateful for his outside the box thinking.

The giveaway thing was exhilarating and I will be doing it again, but my eyes are now open to a fresh myriad of modes. How cool is that? It’s proof there are benefits of connecting, gathering and collecting here other than to tout our own trips. At the risk of a little cheese, we can also learn from one another beyond a writing aspect. Now, if only Jim would follow me back…

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From The Bottom of My Heart

Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Relationships, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , , on November 4, 2013| 14 Comments »

This is the second of two quick posts in a row, neither of them are worth any more of your time than what I’ve put into them…which totals mere minutes…but today is a day I’d like to mark despite having to steal the time do it, and you never know, maybe you have a few minutes to spare.

I started my blog on March 30, 2012. So far, I am enjoying it immensely and as of today, I have organically grown exactly 400 hundred followers. I am not including facebook or twitter peeps – simply the people that I have, post by WordPress post, managed to entice into my lair as magically as the Pied Piper. Okay – there’s been nothing magical about it. It’s all been blood,sweat and tears, nevertheless, I maintain that I’ve performed a miraculous miracle. At least, it feels that way to me.

Hazy's 400

So, to mark the occasion and include you in what I feel is something to celebrate, I’d like to send the very first person to both like and comment on this post, a book that USA Today refers to as; “A fascinating look at the evolution and redemption of one of the hardest-working storytellers today.” 

Take it and....GO!

Take it and….GO!

 Relatives and employees of Hazy Shades of Me prohibited from winning.  ;0)

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The Rain

Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , , , on November 2, 2013| 8 Comments »

It’s bucketing. If you can’t hear it, you should get your ears checked. I love the rain and sufficiently so, reside in a city where it rains…just a smidge. (sarcasm button gets a nudge here)

I find it inspiring in a “Hey – stay home, it’s dry” kind of way. The drizzling’s akin to the crack of a fire or the snap of fatty bacon and it spits, “Yeah – don’t go out, it’s wet.”

It tells me to ditch the dust and draw the drapes. The smatterings of spatterings spur me to instead open a book or clack those creative keys. It suggests I simmer a pot of steamy broth or a hearty stew. It begs, “create.”

But tonight, I head downtown into the wet and wild wonder.

Tomorrow I’ll reign.

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Work With It

Posted in Beauty, Blogging, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Parenting, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , , on October 23, 2013| 10 Comments »

Enjoy the Silence

I’ve hit a wall, so to speak and I don’t think it has anything to do with what I was trying to write about the other day. If I ever get it finished, you’ll see what I mean.

I started out formulating my usual post in my usual style, but then decided to try and get all fancy and metaphorical. Come to think of it, that’s supposed to be another one of my fortes, isn’t it?

It was about some daunting task I’d set out to tackle and had eventually achieved with great (and surprising) success. Boring, right? No wonder I couldn’t finish the post. I’m sure it’s why I haven’t written anything since. My attempts at bedazzling it fell short and I, in turn, fell silent.

The benefit of fancying yourself a writer is the freedom to turn mundane into miraculous. You’re empowered, enslaved and hopefully efficient in your craft but if you happen to be having a day where you’re wondering what the bejeezus happened to your superpowers, just enjoy the silence.

Mother/Daughter Muddy Mugs

Ava Facial

Alana Facial 2

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N Is For Change

Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Parenting, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , , on October 17, 2013| 9 Comments »

I rarely sleep through the night. I wake up every few hours and despite my mother living just two blocks away, she’s hardly willing to run over and lull me back to sleep. (She’ll say she is.)

This insomnia of sorts has been weaving its way in gently and gingerly over the past long while. So stealthily in fact, that when a friend asked me if I ever have trouble sleeping, my answer was this; “Oh definitely not! I sleep like a…Oh wait – yes actually, come to think of it, I do have trouble sleeping nowadays.”

Why I wake is hard to say. Too hot? Too cold? A pea under the mattress? Thirsty? Perhaps I’m an unknowing fan of unyielding yawns and lead-laden lids? Or maybe it’s simply the obvious – that cover-stealing, log-sawing, sheet-thrashing fellow sleeping next to me. Nah, that couldn’t be it. A merciful muddlement to those exacerbating eccentrics was gratefully gifted upon me years ago.

Enter, stage left. We’ve face-lifted a dining room, overhauled a bathroom, and are currently primping a parlor. (Okay, I don’t often use the word parlor, but I’ve already said room twice, so to divert the dreary, in this instance it shall be a parlor.)

And all that is very exciting indeed. I love change. I am forever painting a room, swapping the drapes or rearranging furniture on a continuous quest for fresh and foreign.

But lately…

Change means more than glossy paint and a snazzy new rug. Change is bringing growth and ungrasping, independence and fear, wings and unwrapping, freedom and tears.

And, it’s freaky.

Anders New Driver

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Beatnik

Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Fiction, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Parenting, Short Stories, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , on October 8, 2013| 10 Comments »

Did it really happen? And, was it only yesterday? It already seems such a distant memory. But yes, it happened and, although it does seem many moons ago, it was, somehow, only the day before today.

The mission: to transport five children, one of them being my daughter, to a trail for a school fieldtrip. Our destination: a route approximately 34 kilometers, or 21 miles, away from my house. Their plan: to hike from 10 ‘til 2. My goal: to throw them from the moving vehicle.

Oh, I kid, I kid.

Of course I stopped the car first. I even made sure they were supervised before I sped off. You see? Solid parenting, folks. You saw it here.

Yes, I could’ve hiked. Yes, I could’ve helped, but I also could’ve snuck off to write away the hours in a cozy bistro with a caffeinated cappuccino. I’m sure you understand my inner war…that would be the one I’m simulating. In reality, there was no battle.

Writing outside of the house is a very different experience for me than writing at home. Take all the of the still available distractions such as, ahem, the Internet, and add to that the opportunity to people watch, one of my favorite addictions pastimes, and I still find myself more focused, not to mention less guilty. I don’t feel like I should be paying bills, vacuuming, doing laundry or participating in any of the usual time-suckers.

Minus the spell I spent being awesomely responsible, I had a decadent three hours to write a short story that I consider fairly contest worthy. And alright, I admit to a pinch of peeping.

I couldn’t help myself. It was amazing to see these people file in one after another, cramming the at first empty bistro in that sleepy village of 3400, not to mention how many of them had a touch more than a glass of wine with their soup de jour.

No judgment. Just jealousy.

Where do you like to write?

Beatniks Bistro

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Cream Cheese and Other Breaking News

Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Parenting, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , on October 1, 2013| 19 Comments »

I know what you’re thinking. This blog is nebulous no more. It’s hastily becoming crystal clear that Hazy is hog-tied by the harrows of her habitat. She seems to be engulfed in the epic endeavors that go along with, well, existing.

You’re only half right. Yes, it’s true. I have found comfort in crafting cunning (at least I think so) tales of ballsy baristas, bereaved bowsers and bursting brains, but I’ve also been writing. Not dysentery dribble, but writing, making things up out of thin air, fabricating fairy tales, staging stories…working my Wonder Woman.

And, I have proof. The other day, after reading through a bunch my past blogs and realizing that most things I write are…for lack of a softer adjective…shite, I received an email telling me that I’ve made it through the first round of judging in another writing contest.

Sometimes I do believe in that higher power. The one that looks out to the turbulent waters, sees you’re drowning and tosses you a floatie in the form of a new follower, a generous comment or sometimes, a glimmer of those very specific affirmations we writers inadvertently crave ~ conspicuous creds.

While I’d love to share the black and white of it all, certain contests forbid submission of works that have been published in any way, including via personal blogs. Makes a blogger feel important, doesn’t it?

So, in the meantime, let’s talk about how much cream cheese I found when cleaning out my far-too-long forgotten fridge.

Cream Cheese

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The Things We Do For Love

Posted in Blogging, Cooking, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Parenting, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , , on September 19, 2013| 11 Comments »

As I navigated the aisles “The Things We Do For Love” played in my head; a screechy record I’d have given anything to snap in half.

You see I had an intense headache all day yesterday. Wait, that’s a lie. It wasn’t all day. It did presto into a massive migraine for several hours or so just to mix things up a little.

But, as us mum’s do, I trudged on, driving the boys to school, continuing the laundry I’d started the day before, cleaning one of the bathrooms that just couldn’t wait another second, sorting and tidying a pile of wayward clothes that were, admittedly, mostly mine, cleaning the fish-y bowl and running up and down the stairs five hundred times or so fetching this and that for my daughter who was, to top it all off, home sick with the flu.

So yes, I hopped around like a good little bunny mummy until it finally took me out. Around four o’clock I had no choice but to surrender.

With one last swoop of my sponge, the pain grabbed hold and dragged me to my room, roughly shoving me onto the bed. “Lie down,” it jeered. “And stay down, or you’ll be sorry.”

Its grip tightened.

It was showing me who was boss and I knew better than to cross it. It pressed with all its might. It squeezed until I thought my skull would open and seep onto the pillow. I lay in frozen fear with no intention of disobeying its very clear command.

That is, until I realized with horror, that I’d forgotten about dinner.

“Who’s going to make dinner?” My panicked whisper pierced through the delirium and my throbbing brain.

“Not you,” hissed the pain. “I told you you’re not going anywhere.”

There was a moment I’d felt defeated. A moment where I thought I had to listen. A moment when I believed I couldn’t win.

And then there was the moment where I (gingerly) sat up, (stiffly) stood up and (somewhat sheepishly) spoke up; “Screw you,” I exclaimed. “My family needs to eat!”

That folks, is how I found myself staggering through the Safeway aisles, and I can literally use the word painfully here, picking out the ingredients to create a robust Spaghetti.

I almost made it too.

Standing in line, waiting to pay, reality kicked in. Still in front of me, was getting this stuff home, organizing it, cooking it, serving it and cleaning it all up and I have to say, it all just seemed a tad undoable.

As I leaned on the cart and discreetly dialed the number to our favourite restaurant, the record played on, only a little louder and little less screechy and it made me realize that when you do things for love, you never lose.

TONIGHT'S DINNER - made with love

TONIGHT’S DINNER – made with love and only slightly less agony

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How Does Your Garden Grow?

Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Parenting, Relationships, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , on September 16, 2013| 7 Comments »

Well, we’ve finally become those people. We’re increasing my life insurance payout, but rather than freaking, I’m stoked. Why? Because I’m pretty sure it’s my husband’s Hallmark way of saying; “Hey babe, I realize that although no amount of money could possibly replace you, I’m willing to bet you’re worth at least half a mil dead.”  Aww, shucks honey.

We’re also upping our…shudder…RESP contributions. It turns out that fifteen years of socking it away is barely enough to cover one child’s university tenure, let alone three and that whoop it up, I’m here for anything but the books college lifestyle isn’t even in the equation. Every hard-squeezed dime has to go towards education. Those campus capers and naughty nights will have to be subsidized by the part-time job my poor kids won’t have an ounce of spare time for.

Sigh.

These are my children though. The little humans that I grew from teeny seeds. For years, I’ve watered, fed and fertilized them and despite my lack of talent for gardening, I’ve (miraculously) managed to keep this one lush and vibrant to date. I want to give these sprouts the sun, the rain and the shade they need and I don’t need to tell you I want nothing but optimum growing conditions to sustain their roots. But wanting the best for something puts you in the position of having to understand what that really means. What exactly is this elusive best?

Will the palatial gardens I’ve been tending turn desertous if they have to feed and water themselves? I, of course, realize an actual garden would eventually become dull and desperate if it had to rely on itself for nourishment, but we are talking about kids here, right? They have arms, legs and mouths after all, moving parts for heaven’s sake, that can be surprisingly helpful when it comes to wielding a hose, directing a nozzle and taking a sip.

I admit I’m not sure at exactly what point we’re supposed to know when it’s time to shut the tap, but in the meanwhile, I’ll keep providing and pruning. After all, they’re only just beginning to bloom.

Lunch 1

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Stir It Up

Posted in Blogging, Creative Writing, Inspiration, Life, Non-Fiction, Our Moments, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, tagged , on September 14, 2013| 10 Comments »

Like a droid, I walked into Starbucks and it wasn’t until I opened my mouth to order that I realized I didn’t actually want a coffee.

 

What am I doing here? I wondered.

 

If you’ve ever been to Starbucks, you’ll know there’s a language. You need to be able to order your grande, non-fat, half-sweet, extra hot, double shot, no whip macchiato in 5 seconds flat. No stumbling. No stuttering.

 

So, to be standing in front of this high-haired, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed barista and not have a clue what to say was, well, awkward.

 

“Something cold?” She offered, unable to conceal the hopeful gleam that I wouldn’t hold up her line much longer.

 

Something cold, I puzzled. Something cold? But, but I always got coffee. Hot coffee. Extra hot coffee. Something cold?!

 

Her eyes fluttered and a Colgate crescent fastened itself into place just below her sweet, petite, pierced nose.

 

“We have these things,” she informed me in a voice that sounded like a long, twirling question mark. “They’re like, cold with ice and berries, you know? They’re good.” She shrugged.

 

“Alright,” I conceded. “I guess I’ll try one of those.”

 

It felt odd to watch her write my name on the foreign, clear plastic cup, the comfort of my usual white, smooth familiarity gone with my snap decision. But I only had a moment to feel uneasy about my impromptu choice. In a flash, spontaneity was set in front of me, beads of water diluting the black lines of my freshly Sharpied H, A, Z and Y.

 

As I walked out into the sunshine, I paused, the fear that my gamble would disappoint, halting me.

 

Finally, caution was thrown to wind and I whet my whistle.

 

Sometimes it just takes a ballsy barista to bust your blahs and quench what has been a long-standing thirst.

Very Berry Hibiscus Refresher

Very Berry Hibiscus Refresher

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