The Life and Musings of Karen J. McLean
Tonight I am "worded out," after a two-hour class, and a long day, and a Migraine that refused to die. I want to write brilliant things, but I just don't have it in me. The words won't come, and no amount of London Fog tea will coax them out of the shadows. So I shall have to be satisfied with this: An experiential lesson in being human.
This post was created as part of Two Writing Teachers’ March Slice of Life Challenge.
You can view other writers’ Day 9 contributions via the comments here.
The minutes are ticking away, and the clock shows me that I’m running out of time. I am so proud of my Slicing streak (even if I’m not doing as well as I’d like on the commenting side), but I’m in danger of losing it now.
My gaze flutters around my desk, looking for something — anything — to write about. Then I spot it: the small, wooden bird that I purchased for five bucks on a Facebook yard sale group.
I pick it up; it’s light, like the chickadees that land in my hand for black oil sunflower seeds up at the park. It’s pine, I think, and I can see subtle marks from the knife that whittled it, and the gradations of shading in the grain.
I’m not sure what made me send the message (“Is this still available?”), but I needed to bring it home. To hold its tiny, grained body in my hand, as the one who had created it surely did.
I wonder at the pointed beak, and marvel that it didn’t accidentally fall prey to the knife. A tiny miracle of care.
This post was created as part of Two Writing Teachers’ March Slice of Life Challenge.
You can view other writers’ Day 8 contributions via the comments here.
My weekend mornings start the same way every Saturday and Sunday. At 5:55 AM, the strains of “O Canada” stream through the headphones I’ve gone to bed wearing, and the urge to stand at attention is strong, but the legs aren’t awake enough to safely leap out of bed as I should.
I’ve written before about my love for the CBC Weekend Mornings radio show, a treasure for us here in the Maritimes*, so I won’t extoll its virtues again here. But this morning’s annual Toasties Awards is my favourite show of the year. The awards are voted on by the listeners of the program, and I’m not gonna lie: I had to do a coin-toss bracket for one of the categories, because the artists are just that good.
Sitting here with my London Fog tea (I saved my last one for the auspicious occasion) and watching the sun gradually melt the lacy frost on my windows, I’m listening to the winners of “The Young Whippersnapper Award,” et. al., and thinking about what a wealth of musical talent we are blessed to have here. Our cultural mosaic is well-represented, and that may be my favourite part of these awards: we share with and celebrate each other.
I don’t know if the podcast links will work outside Canada (Toasties Hour 1 and Toasties Hour 2), so you may not be able to hear the magic, whimsy, and occasional silliness (meow). But thanks to the beauty of YouTube, I will share some of my favourites (in no particular order) from the past year here below:
and my very favourite:
Thanks for sharing a little slice of my life. Enjoy the music, and let me know your favourites in the comments. 🙂
* “The Maritimes” — The Maritime Provinces of Canada are on the eastern coast of the country, and consist of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Prince Edward Island. “The Atlantic Provinces” consist of the Maritimes, plus Newfoundland and Labrador.
This post was created as part of Two Writing Teachers’ March Slice of Life Challenge.
You can view other writers’ Day 7 contributions via the comments here.