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Take a nap write now

Fri, 06/30/2017 - 15:37 -- Phyllis Humby

I’m a happy napper. Not every day, mind you. Maybe only three or four times a week.

It’s a habit, and from all I’ve read, it’s a healthy habit. It’s been called everything from having a snooze, grabbing forty winks, nodding off, dozing, catnapping, and even re-charging the batteries.

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Start writing the guest list

Wed, 05/31/2017 - 11:51 -- Phyllis Humby

Could 90 be the new 70? Now, more than ever, nonagenarians enjoy good health and active lifestyles. More than two or three times in the last few weeks, I overheard conversations about birthday parties for those celebrating the Big Nine-Oh. Oh sure, Aunt Sally or Uncle Joe always had a little reception to honour a special birthday, but I’m not talking tea and biscuits in the Home’s activity room – not that there’s anything wrong with it. The shindigs I heard about were elegant affairs. Picture a formal wedding and you’ll get the idea. And why not?

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Not the write training

Tue, 04/04/2017 - 11:19 -- Phyllis Humby

A friend was recovering from surgery and needed a pair of comfortable walking shoes. We hit the stores – my least favourite pastime. Our first stop seemed like a winner. She found a pair she loved. But they didn’t have her size. Sure, they could order them but she wanted them now. We’ve all been stung by that back-order nightmare.

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A Dog Is Always Write

Mon, 03/06/2017 - 09:10 -- Phyllis Humby

My dog wants to say hello, she told me. I looked from her to her dog. It was a strange moment. I mean, how often does someone stop you on the street to make introductions…to their dog? Wish I’d said something clever like, Oh, I’d hoped the attraction was mutual, or at least pulled out my phone for a selfie. Come to think of it, why didn’t I?

The woman explained. She noticed you earlier at the other end of the street. And when she saw you now she got excited. She likes you. I can tell. She patted her rump affectionately – the dog’s rump.

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I’ll quit but not write now

Tue, 01/31/2017 - 11:33 -- Phyllis Humby

Our lives took a turn when an entertaining habit declined into obsessive enslavement.

Life in the country had been good. Lots of time spent outdoors in the fresh country air. Sometimes the air was a little too fresh, if you get my drift. We kept busy maintaining the yard and the gardens. Playing with the neighbor dog, Lola. Talking about the weather. You know, regular country stuff.

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Not write for award winning author

Thu, 12/29/2016 - 09:04 -- Phyllis Humby

It was a head scratcher. I double-checked the cover. Maybe I’d goofed and this book wasn’t written by a bestselling author. Most established writers, embarrassed by fledgling mistakes, wish their early works would vanish. Even though this book read like a debut novel, it was published thirteen years and mega books after the author hit it big.

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Joyous celebration not write for everyone

Tue, 11/29/2016 - 14:36 -- Phyllis Humby

Reader beware! This is not the usual mirthful rhetoric. Debbie Downer is sitting on the corner of my laptop. She’s irritating. I’m filled with cheer and she keeps reminding me of the less fortunate. Those who face the holidays with dread.

Not everyone is bubbly excited about Christmas or the coming New Year. There are lots of reasons for heavy hearts.

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Write now it’s time to eliminate gender

Tue, 11/01/2016 - 11:30 -- Phyllis Humby

Following last year’s vacation, the cruise line sent an email. They’d be eternally grateful if I’d fill out their evaluation review on Ports of Call, Accommodations, yada yada yada (my words, not theirs). They said it would take ten minutes tops. Well, two minutes had already ticked by and I was still staring at the first multiple-choice like it was an algebra problem. It was certainly a different approach to a usually routine question.

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The Write Spot for Breakfast

Mon, 10/03/2016 - 08:07 -- Phyllis Humby

We followed our friends into the muddy lot. Though recommended by locals, the small weather-bleached building looked like something out of the Wild West. The parking was erratic—vehicles scattered everywhere—but my biggest concern was how the heck I’d navigate the puddles and gooey ruts wearing sandals. I somehow managed—not without complaint.

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