bogeyandruby

Random stuff, reflections on the meaning of life and death, humour, self-deprecation, a bit of bad poetry.

It’s the small acts of kindness that get me through challenging days. Kind acts that I don’t necessarily appreciate at the time, but that I acknowledge later on when taking inventory of my day. Like the colleague who noticed how frazzled I was this afternoon and asked if she could help, the son who asked …

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When I announced to my husband today that my blog now had 37 followers, he congratulated me on having more followers than Jesus. After wiping away the almond milk latte I had just snorted through my nose, I had to ask … “Twelve disciples.”, he said with a grin. (I know, I know … but …

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Like most of you, getting through the past year was an uphill trudge. Working as a frontline healthcare worker during present circumstances is stressful but I am grateful for an excuse to get out of the house everyday and for the fact that I have a public sector job that is secure. My husband, spending …

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Sometimes, albeit rarely, I experience moments of perfect bliss, like this past Saturday morning when I had a quiet house to myself, dogs and birds fed and watered, the beginning of a long week-end stretching far ahead of me, a steaming cup of coffee and cream in one hand and a pearl of a new …

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My intention was to read 52 books this past year and I made it to 80. I will continue reading throughout 2020 and hope that the cataract surgery that is pending will ease the distressing eye strain and blurriness I have been experiencing of late. Impatient to begin a new list, I started the first …

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Sometimes I feel like an imposter in my own life. This evening, my rockstar husband and I are playing a gig at our beloved Mariposa Cafe to raise money for the St. James Drop-In Centre, a wonderful community resource that supports members who are coping with homelessness, addiction and mental health issues. Our friend, Antonella, …

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This showed up as a memory on my facebook feed this morning: “It’s never a good sign when a dying patient says you look tired and the next day a 95 year old man with Liberace hair and a tan tells you the same thing.” Eight years later and I’m still tired. Mind you, back …

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