August 4th, 1996

The date approaches
Our anniversary, and
a time to reflect

Sally

Hey World...
    I broke my daily blogging streak yesterday...for a very good reason. Yesterday was my son's final performance of Julius Caesar. We left home early in the am to bus to Bard on the Beach. While Liam attended a final rehearsal we had breakfast on the beach and patiently awaited his show.
   We filled a whole row in the audience with friends and family, and sat in amazement as he, and several other delightfully adorable children, entertained us with their brilliance. At the end of the show we sent the kids home with some friends, and stayed to watch the professional performance of "Taming of the Shrew." It was fantastic! So good, that despite our exhaustion, we stayed for the second act and took the bus home, arriving at the bus loop having missed the last bus by 10 minutes. We walked home, still smiling... What a night! We arrived at our door at 12:04 am, missing my opportunity to blog on July 29th... sigh... oh well! Here's an acrostic for Liam... WHAT A KID!!!


Listening to you recite Shakespeare made me feel so proud I could burst.

I sat in my seat shaking with excitement as I watched you feel so comfortable in your own shoes.

An amazing articulate presence is what you brought to the stage and I couldn't stop watching you.

Moms live for the moments when they get to witness their flowers in bloom.

Sally
  

Another Clerihew


I have a good friend named Colette
A more caring educator I haven't seen yet!
She loves her sweet daughter and does what she can
She's a bombshell, a stunner, all she's missing is a tan.

Sally

The Forbidden Union

It was 27 years ago,
to be exact.
I was 15
and attending a private school for girls
in Montreal.

I was living amongst the
orthodox,
who had a rule for everything.
I was at an age
when breaking rules
seemed like the obvious thing to do.

I befriended a man
which was not allowed.
We talked on the phone
which was not allowed.
We met one evening
which was not allowed.
We sat in a rental car
making smoochy face.
I'm pretty sure that wasn't allowed either.

So when the cops pulled up
and told us we were in
big trouble,
we complied
and confessed to our
forbidden union.
The cops got bored with our story
when they realized we were not
the runaways
they were looking for.

They let us go
back to our homes,
where we knew
our actions
would be criticised.

We hovered in
secret
clandestine, chance meetings
that went on for
months.

When I finally returned
to the West Coast
he called me.
Did I mention that he was 21?
Did I mention that he was a
Rabbi?
He asked if I wanted him to
wait
for me.
He asked if I wanted to commit at 15
to marry him at 18.
I said no.
I was worried that I would
miss too much
if I agreed to take
the first fish
I hooked.

In retrospect,
I think I made the right choice.
I would have made a terrible Rabbi's wife!

Sally

A Clerihew... For You!

Matthew is sweet, and very tall
To  hang out with him is to have a real ball.
Don't spend too much time planning where to go
As it happens on occasion that he is a no show!

Sally

Good Evening. Here is my attempt at a Shakespearean Sonnet. Forgive me, as I am a sonnet virgin! It was still a fun challenge to undertake.

The Story of 3 x Sallis


My name at birth was not Sally, you see.
It started years ago when taking a class.
My friends Kristina, Niki B and me,
worked on a scene from "When Harry Met Sally" to pass.

As we worked on our scene of great passion,
our thoughts did fuse and merge into one mind.
Instead of saying the name of the film in full fashion,
Our shortened version of "Harrys and Sallis" was fine.

It stuck the way fun names like this can do.
The scene was done but still the game remained.
All three of us became "Sallis" it's true.
A new nickname is what we all did gain.

Years have flown, to "Sally" I've revolved,
and "Sallis" and "Aunty Sallis" have with me evolved.

Sally

Hello!
      Liam and I have been bussing in to the beach for his Shakespeare Camp. Last week was hot and sunny and I focussed on sunscreen and blankets for the sand. Then the rain came and my attention turned to umbrellas, garbage bags and ziplocs. The weather is not sure how to respond right now but I have taken refuge in local cafes, and turned to calling on friends to come on down and play with me. Here is a Haiku and a Cinquain. My poetic snapshot of the past couple of days. Forgive the simplicity, but I have been working on a sophisticated Shakespearean Sonnet. I am finding it very difficult to write in Iambic Pentametre. I have never been a person of few words... but I love a challenge. I am looking forward to sharing it soon.

Juliet's Cafe


Juliet's Cafe
My haven during the rain
on this summer day

Playdate


Abbie
My friend from work
meeting me at Starbucks
catching up on happy gossip
Playdate

Sally

I assure you that I am not making this up. This is a Dorsimbra Poem.

                     IZZY

Almost exactly a year ago today
we adopted a kitty, white, shy and busy.
On a regular basis with her we do play,
a true family member, our cuddly, cute Izzy.

She jumps and dashes about,
then she crashes
on the couch, then on the floor,
until she hears the kitty treats.

I awake in the night with her by my side.
When I'm sick she hovers to ensure I'm all right.
She talks and she chatters, and I'm happy to say,
almost exactly a year ago today.

Sally

A Pleiades Poem


Car-less

Car is broken down and too expensive to fix
Car-less with three kids who eat as much as a soccer team
Consequently, every day we are carrying home bags of food from the grocery store
Carefully planning events around bus routes
Collecting our change and counting it for the bus driver
Calling on a friend to borrow her car so that we can make it to a wedding in Langley
Cautious not to take for granted the fact that we're only car-less

Sally

            A Diamante

               Daughter
       prepossessing, literary
dancing, nail-polishing, baby-sitting
      music, writer, Ipod, Wii
      running, tackling, eating
         cultivated, brawny
                  Sons

                  Sally

Today is my un-aunt's 65th birthday. Happy Birthday Aunty Norma!

Aunty Norma

Norma Jeane
Norma Rae
Norma Paz- all you three
What a powerhouse of women
you appear to be.

I'm not sure if your namesakes have made you as such,
that you glow with a radiance of other Normas.
But to me you are precious and always have been
my great Aunty Norma, a pillar, a queen.

My earliest memories go back to the day
when you tried to take pictures of me and I say,
I fought and I wiggled and struggled with might
little did you know it was the Drama that brought me delight.

When I acted on this, and committed to the Theatre
you were my biggest fan, my supporter, my leader.
You came to each show, no matter how small,
you came to see me at my job at the mall.

Norma Desmond
Norma Harrold
Norma Paz- all you three
What a powerhouse of women
you appear to be.

When I graduated from university you insisted to get
me a gift, a memento, so I wouldn't forget
your support and admiration for my achievement.
You bought me a book that I cherish and lead with.

When I look back I'm filled with images of you
at every event from my wedding to the Bris of two
of my children and all of their photos
in frames that you bought them engraved with their info.

You were the first to reveal the truth about sex,
and have been there all along as I figured out the rest.
I thank you sweet Aunty for all that you've done,
and I wish you the best on this path you've begun
to your silver years, may your health be everlasting
and may your 65th birthday be no less than FANTASTIC!

Norma Talmadge
Norma Miller
Norma Paz- all you three
What a powerhouse of women
you appear to be.

Sally

Tim Burton Doesn't Even Know That I Exist

I was 17 when I first saw
PeeWee's Big Adventure.
I'd loved
PeeWee's Playhouse
and the thought of him
in a feature film
cracked me up.
It ended up doing
far more than that.

It was my first Tim Burton
hangover.
The lasting impact
and weighty effect
of Burton imagery.
The result was
magical.
The experience
opened up doorways
and windows of thought.
It ignited a surge of
creativity that
flowed freely
until the next
Tim Burton
inspiration.
Beetlejuice
Edward Scissorhands
The Nightmare Before Christmas
I have yet to be
disappointed
with any of his
work.

In me,
he has inspired drawings, poetry
and even screenplays.
In 2008
after watching
Vincent
I felt compelled to create my own
tribute
called Tim.
Using Vincent as a guide
I wrote the poem
and the script
for a short
movie.
I had a friend film it
featuring
my whole family
and
the neighbourhood kids.
It took an entire
unforgettable
year.
In the grand scheme of things
it was an aesthetic disaster.
My first film
a $300.00 budget
and
talent that needed far too many
popsicle breaks.

I sent it to Tim Burton

for his 50th birthday.

I'm not sure if it got

anywhere near him,

but I never received a response.

As a matter of fact

I'm pretty sure that

Tim Burton doesn't even know that I exist!

And I'm OK with that.

I don't think that

I'd ever want to meet him.

I'd probably

pee myself

or cry

and I'd rather not.

I'm happy to remain an

anonymous fan

who seeks and absorbs

him as a 

muse

again

and again

and again.

Sally

Transit Ballet

I witnessed a man, he was coming my way
zigzagging and two-stepping towards me today.

I was on a bus on my way to Vancouver
when I saw him get on and begin to maneuver.

He sashayed to the right, and turned to the left
spinning freely and committing blatant space theft.

His lean, silky arm cautiously reached up
between diaphanous fingers he gracefully cupped

The pole with the bell as he rang the next stop
and with professional precision off the bus he did hop.

When I looked up I noticed that others swayed too
as they waddled and groped and moved forward in twos.

They rocked elegantly and frequently stopped
in picturesque poses, positioned and propped.

Some looked like Nutcrackers, and others like Swans
While squinting, their bags looked like delicate wands.

Although unintentional, with little rehearsal
the dancers were forced into the performance circle.

As it appears that all the bus passengers each day
are spontaneous participants in the Transit Ballet.

Sally

Two down, eight more beach days to go. I promise to find a new topic tomorrow as I am appearing to gloat! Here's a beachy acrostic.

Out is the tide
Cluttered sand with ocean debris
Everyone awaits as the moon releases the waves
And Nature's water park returns
Now they run and splash with contentment

To the water and back filling buckets for sand cities
In and out the waves flow imposing a pulsating rhythm
Dogs bark, children squeal, and adults giggle
Everyone appears to be focused on the moment
Summer's intoxicating power to invade the mundane 

Sally

Konichiwa,
    I sat on the beach for three hours today, while my youngest son worked on Julius Caesar at Shakespeare Camp.  Sigh. It was luxurious.

Do you see how I

am trying to blog daily

in my summer bliss?

The Beach Haiku

Boats on the water

Seagulls are swooping for food

Marley in my ear

Waiting for Liam

As he re-lives Shakespeare plays

and I paint my toes

Another summer

Memories to be re-called

in next years' stories

Sally

Hola Blogging World!
    I'm sitting at my kitchen table enjoying the overcast skies and a break from the heat. I found a poem discretely stapled between two pages that I wrote so long ago, I only vaguely remember the circumstances of the passion. I was in Theatre School at the time, and found drama in the making of toast!

WASHINGTON

It all started with a
kiss
on the cheek
that sent
shivers
up my spine
the reverb of which still
startles me some nights
when it's
dark
and late
and I feel
alone.

I started to notice you after that
and I
fell
flat on my face
with
lust?

I flirted
and you reciprocated
I flirted some more
and you never pushed me
away
I confided in you
I trusted you
I had fun with you
I felt good when I was with
you
I felt safe because I knew I couldn't have
you.

I invested in the friendship because it felt
right
I gained a confidant
a comrade
a buddy
a gift.

I hold the gift of your friendship in my arms
stifling the overwhelming desire to
open it
absolutely terrified
that I may ruin the
wrapping.

Sally

Shalom!
   I just watched the film "Julie & Julia" (again) and have concluded that I am a terrible blogger.
   365 days/500+ recipes...
   Could I write that many poems? Not even if my life depended on it. If my childrens' lives depended on it??? Although I am the first to admit that I know very little, I am cognizant of the fact that I would do ANYTHING for my kids ( I say/type this as I pass my bowl of deliciously crisped hash browns over to my youngest son. Twenty-five minutes standing at the stove attempting to ensure perfection... only to pass it on... not without subduing a drool... to the adoringly, desirous face of my offspring. One of the only living beings that has me wound tighter than a six dollar watch!) Let's hope that I am never put to the test.
    Having said all that, one of the other living beings (other than my three children) that has me wrapped around his... finger... is my husband. It never ceases to astound me what one goes through/experiences in a 20 year relationship, and yet... in the deepest, hardly describable way, I am smitten! Here is a poem I wrote for him on Valentine's Day 2012.

CT

There's a constant
like a ticking
like a knocking on the door.

It's consistent
everlasting
like a drumming on the floor.

Without it things seem
silent
like a toy missing a
part.

It's the deep, relentless hold you have
on my beating heart!

Sally

Tuesday July 3rd, 2012
        My first official day of summer vacation. Here is a poem that I wrote many years ago for my uncle. He has since passed on, and it was read at his funeral. As today symbolically represents two months of open-ended adventure, I thought it would be wise to begin with a reflection on those who played a role in my arrival to this place. Thank you to all my crutches, cushions, critics... Namaste! May peace be with you!

Ode to Dodes

His name was Moshe Haver
but he was always known as Motty.
When we were kids
my brother and I played a game.
We created our own language by
adding ES to the end of every word.
As we called him
Dod Motty,
Dod meaning uncle in Hebrew,
he became Dodes Mottes,
and it stuck.
Twenty years later
our kids were calling him
Dodes.
Sometimes after family dinners
we'd sing traditional Israeli Folk Songs
until dawn.
Sometimes,
we'd tell Dodes stories.
My father says,
remember the time
he offered to take his friend's
prize German Shepherd for a walk?
He sold the dog,
and told his friend it ran away.
My brother adds,
remember the time he took us to a movie.
We sat down
and he got snacks.
When he returned and couldn't find us in the dark
he started yelling our names.
We hid under our chairs with embarrassment.
The movie was Mask.
Dodes cried so hard that
people were applauding HIS performance.
He lent me the money
to buy my first car.
He had a monkey named Lola!
He was a cornucopia of LIFE!
Dodes was a
soldier, a
sailor, a
policeman, a
beach bum, a
swimming instructor, a
taxi driver, a
welder, a
sugar daddy and more.
In his younger day he looked exactly like
Errol Flynn.
Handsome, dashing,
a real ladies man.
He has been a true source of entertainment,
and a great person to love.
In recent years he requested that we
go back to calling him by his real name.
So,
thanks for the wonderful memories
Dod Motty!

Sally