Category Archives: poetry

Toast

toast-blog

Today I bought a sandwich for a homeless kid.

I wasn’t going to. To be honest, I usually avoid anything to do with people asking for money. It’s pretty much inherent. Part of living on the West Coast I think. I am immune to begging…

On the West Coast, homeless people have cats and dogs that they guilt you into feeling sorry for. Who, seriously, can resist giving money to help someone feed their dog. That is the hardest thing in the world for me. Poor animals.

West Coast homeless people also try to ‘jolly’ you out of spare change. Or insult you…. one or the other…

Case in point:

Once, my mother and I were ‘accosted’ by a young man who swore we were so beautiful that he had immediately, on the spot, made up a poem, just for us. He was so charming, that of course we said yes. And then he charged us a dollar. And my Mum, being the lovely person she was, gave it to him.

And then we watched him do the same thing to someone else.

It was funny though. $1 equals funny experience that I remember 10 years later. I guess it was worth the price…

There is a well known man who sits outside a church in downtown Victoria that chimes “Spaaaaaare a little chaaaaange…” He is elderly, white-bearded. Practically has become part of the landscape. I hardly notice him when I am back home.

One day, walking past the Eaton’s Center (that would be ‘The Bay Center’ to all of you young ones in Victoria), I was yelled at for ignoring a request for change. I am sorry. But, to be honest, I can only handle that request so many times… Once I hit 4 or 5, I have reached my limit. It is hard for me to avoid the pleading eyes, but after years of experience I have become a skilled professional.

Living in the South is a little bit different.

There is no real downtown core, so you are not slammed with the exposure that you would be in my hometown of Victoria, or even Vancouver.

M and I were checking out Orlando’s ‘downtown’ area one day, back when I had first moved here when we were approached by the skinniest, dirtiest black man you have ever seen.

He proclaimed “You are in LOVE. I can feel it”.

“I can feel you love, it’s so strong. I know you love this gorgeous woman. You love her. I can feel it…. let me dedicate a song to her beauty…”

And then he proceeded to sing, with a glorious smokey voice, an amazing, jazzy, 1920’s made-up song about my beauty and how it had M wrapped around my finger. For surely no man had ever resisted a woman such as I…

Oh god, how I was both embarrassed and flattered. We gave him $5 and he went on his way, down the deserted street that he had crossed to reach us.

This young man that I saw today was the skinniest boy you have ever seen. Clad in dirty jeans and a black tank top… those shoulders of his popped right out of his torso, they were so sharp and narrow. He asked me very politely “Ma’am, spare any change?” And unfortunately I had none….

So I bought him a turkey sandwich and a bottle of water instead. And apologized to him on my way out of the restaurant for not having any money to give him. I hoped he would like this sandwich instead. He thanked me, and gave me a shy happy smile.

Just look what motherhood has done to me….

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Filed under atlantic, awkward, destiny, discovery, dream, epic, Florida, glorious, happy, Holy Grail, holy mother, Love, Orlando, poetry, public, The South, West Coast

Normal life

ikea-blog

A wee excerpt from my normal life…

Taking the elevator from the top floor in Ikea, down to the bottom with my cousin. Oh, how do we love Ikea. So many things to think and plan about, meatballs to eat, lighting fixtures to drool over. It is a beautiful place for the female members of my family.

Let’s backtrack a little…. rewind back to the food court on the top floor, about 10 minutes earlier… focus in on our lovely Ikea meal we were having. Well, that C and I were having, as V was clearly not interested in having any part of it. This was  illustrated by the carrots and cheese that he spat out. Spat out with force, I might add. He got some serious distance. Where did this random ‘skill’ come from? No idea…(signs are pointing towards his father though…)

So, as we fought with the meal tray, dropped carrots all over the place, spat out some meatball, smeared things all over our very small 18 month-sized shirt….all of this heavy action was followed by a stealth-poop.

And by stealth-poop, I mean that there were none of the usual warning signs. No grunting, no red face, no nuttin’……

Just an unfortunate smell…. one that crept up on me. It took C a while to notice… and that is because she does not have a poop-machine at home and so doesn’t recognize the early aromas-slash-signs….

But when it hit her…. oh man. It really hit her.

By then we were already on our way to the ‘family’ change-room.

But. It was locked. Damn it!! My son’s poop-bottom is more important than yours!

So I headed into the main washroom which thankfully had a changing-station.

Oh, that poor ladies-room. It was quickly defiled the instant that my son’s pants came off. That movement was punctuated by C’s exclamation of  ‘Motherf’er! Jame. That. Is. Awful.”

It might have been, but honestly, my nostrils are immune to stank like that. And my eyeballs don’t even notice anymore.

The other ladies that exited stalls and washed their hands smiled at my commentary regarding Little Man’s stinky pants. His very stinky pants. And how nice that the changing table was situated so that his dirty little bottom faced the mirrors and was reflected down the washroom.

As I wiped, cleaned, wiped and wiped some more, ladies filed in and out. There were giggles. Some of them might have come from my cousin.

As I reached into my diaper bag and pulled out a stank-diaper bag (you know, one of those ‘green’ bags that you stuff your stink into when you are out in public so the trash doesn’t stink awfully?) and got ready to deposit the ‘deposit’ into it, my cousin exclaimed at its cleverness. Really, it is very clever.

Such a nice way to tidy up after a stinky bum.

The lady washing her hands at the sink chimed in “I use plastic bags to clean up my cat’s litter box. They are so handy.”

C: “But I bet yours aren’t Arm and Hammer”.

Bathroom Lady: “No. You are right. I just use regular plastic bags”. *laugh*

Jaime: “My bags come with a handy container to hook on your hand-bag”.

C: “Quite handy when you are at Ikea”

BL: “I don’t bring my cats with me to Ikea”.

*Silence*

And then we left the bathroom and headed down to the ground floor…

Just another normal day….

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Dream

dream-blog

Tonight is the last night of my ‘1 month of posting’….a month of posting that I haven’t fulfilled. I know there were 2 dates that I missed.

One by sheer lack of imagination… another by a comeplete lack of actual power. So it was 50% my fault. AND 50% not at all. Thank god (and also blame god for that last one. It really was his fault)

Things that happened this month:

I read the whole Twilight series (and then mentally married Jacob in my mind)….(and then divorced him and married Edward)…

V learned how to say ‘Bye bye’ and clap, and say ‘Uh-oh!!!’

I pretended for a whole month that I was an actual ‘I get paid for it writer’ writer…. *dream*… it was a good dream….

I got a pedicure.

I turned 33.

V became 13 months… (almost 14 now)

I ate some crab legs.

I picked numerous paint samples…

I fell in love with M all over again.

And then, I took a nap.

Looking back at it all.. it seemed that it was a good night (all in all… and by  ‘night’ I mean month…)

Looking forward to breaking in August…

xoxo a.m.

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Haiku

haiku-blog

Tonight, I blog, right?

Or enjoy my happy bed.

Pillows are my friend.

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Filed under amazing!, amusing, epic, faux, Florida, Haiku, happy, Orlando, poetry, random, Writing