Fun in The Sun


It was a lovely day, sun shining. Braily’s mother decided to break up the monotony of home routine. She had heard of a new playground on a farm that also had a petting zoo. When arriving, she sat on a bench and let Braily explore. Straddling over the grass, Braily walked straight toward the playground, a fulfilling place for a curious child for which her mother felt would also develop interests.

As Braily played attentively near a train shaped tubular wooden sculpture, she spotted a unique object with three wheels. Wobbling toward it, her short legs clumsily lifted above the recently cut grass. Across the field where the three-wheeler stood was a small track. She finally reached the mysterious three-wheeler. Studying it carefully, her small hand cupped the handle bar. Funny that she didn’t try to get up on it. Makes one wonder what little minds think when they find something new where everything around them is a first. Slowly she studied it before getting bored and moving on to a slide that was attached to a shape of a ship back towards the playground area.

Braily didn’t say much yet. Her fair skin was lightly coated with sunscreen. She was dressed in her everyday wear and at an age where little minds were easy to please, there wasn’t much her mother needed but a snack to break up her play that also wound her down for the nap.

Being close to Braily’s nap time, her mother rose from the bench and followed Braily to the ship. There was a ramp rather than steps to board the ship so a little tyke such as Braily could manage the slide quite easily on their own. Her mother stood close regardless just in case. After a few times down the slide, her mother took Braily by the hand. “You want a snack?” she asked softly. It got Braily’s attention off the playground. “Let’s have something to eat.” Little two-year-old Braily contentedly followed as it ended playtime perfectly.

Blood Moon – Revised

October 30, 2013 the blood moon shines its bloody temptation as bright as the harvest moon in the early morning of autumn. The wolves thirst for blood while hunters thirst for game.

It is a cool, calm morning. Gerry and Darwin are in their orange caps and camouflage suits. The wives warn not to go. It is said it is the year of the attack of hunter against the hunter but Gerry and Darwin ignore them. They get into their big, 4×4 GMC truck and head out into the early morning dew. When arriving into the old, narrow road leading into the deep of the woods, Darwin parks the truck as far in as he could drive. They each pull their guns out from behind the seat and head down the trails.

“I’ll go down here.” Gerry points.

“Okay. Good luck and shoot to kill my friend.”

“First one to get the game shoots two more to direct the other. May the best man win.” Gerry waves as he disappears into the woods.

“See you in ten minutes.” Darwin replies as he walks another direction, v-ing off into the woods.

Ten minutes and a bang is heard followed by the echo. Darwin turns but no other shot is heard. He stands waiting. A few minutes later, he decides to ignore the shot and walks on. Crunching sound of leaves startle him. He turns but sees no one, then calls out, “Gerry?” followed by a repeating echo.

Darwin begins to walk again and the sound of someone following also begins before hearing another shot. Turning his head toward the direction of gun shot, he stops suddenly. Looks around but it falls silent. He starts to walk faster toward the area he thought he heard the shot and the crushing sound of leaves begin again. “Gerry?” still no reply and no other gunshot goes off. He looks back, “Gerry?” Darwin bellows but no reply. He decides to turn toward the sound of the crushing leaves. “Gerry, okay stop!” he shouts angrily while walking toward the direction he thought someone was but the sound of someone following him sounds like it’s behind him again. Feeling confused, he turns and walks back the other way where he thought the gunshot came from.

A half hour gone and he hasn’t found Gerry. He hears crushing sounds, turns and sees a shadow in the deep of the woods. Waiting for it to expose itself, he stands breathing shallow, gun up and aiming into the woods.

“Boo!” Out pops Gerry.

“You…” Darwin curses. “What the heck? I could have shot you!”

Gerry laughs hysterically. “I got the big one.”

Darwin follows. They load it, getting their catch a day before Halloween horror.

“Why didn’t you answer or fire three shots?”

“I hit it but it got up and started to run and had to chase it. That’s the second shot that killed it. Hey, I’m sorry. I had to get it. I then heard you near so, well, you know.”

A wolf stands watching them drive out of the woods. Blood dripping from his mouth.

Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore. Original post, titled Blood Moon, was Mark’s prompt filling in for Kelly.

Setting The Mood – Rewrite

Revised Version of the free writing Friday prompt by Kellie Elmore – Setting the Mood.


Granted it’ll be a cold night.

The comfy sofa and warm blanket await me as I put a CD on. Tea sitting on the end stand will soon relax me. It’s been a long day.

I cover myself with the cumbersome blanket, warming me nevertheless. I begin sipping my tea, feet up on the ottoman. I have a book in my hand but I stare blankly as Justin Timberlake comes on. It is soothing.

What’s the odds of meeting him, I think. It’d be a double-sided coin or as likely as becoming an actor starring me in cinema with Justin Timberlake, key actor.

I try to zone the song out but at falsetto it radiates through me. Now gazing into the dim of my room, I vegetate. It resonates feelings like never before. I put the book down, close my eyes and take it all in.

SLS Oborowsky

Lost in Translation/Interpretation

Too many acronyms in texting that I don’t know what they mean. Why can’t they stick to obvious u (you) r (are) # 1(number one) Ma, besides teenagers have no time to teach their mothers.


Mother, “What is Lol?”

Daughter, “Laugh out loud”

Mother, “What if they mean – lots of love, loads of laughter, lion or lamb, lots of laughs or leap of luck.”

Daughter, “No, just laugh out loud. Nothing else in text talk.”

Mother, “Are you sure?”

Daughter, now frustrated with mother, replies sternly “Just laugh out loud.”

Mother, “Okay. Lol.”

Mother still reading her texts, asks her daughter, “What is ldk?” Daughter, still frustrated with mother, walks away without answering. Mother, left in dark. I wonder what Btw means? She thinks as she continues scrolling her text messages.


Daughter walks back in.  Mother asks daughter if Lmfao means, “Leave me f’n alone amiga ok?” Daughter, not interested in teaching mother, acts like she didn’t hear, leaving mother lost in translation.

Mother gets creative, or at least she thinks she did.


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The Stork Delivers

Ivcover (1000) (722x401)

A story was created and the birth of Ivy came to life in a form of a book. As the book nestled in its nest, it awaited delivery to a home far away by a busy stork: protective and caring.

Many readers, awaiting the book, will soon get to indulge in the life of Ivy, to know the walk of a Metis girl: The trying times along with the good times, when the stork delivers the book.

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The Travelling Preacher


It is 1972. The big, white tent sits on a large field in a remote settlement of slightly over 200 people, big and small. In the tent, the podium stands alone at the back, in the centre of the aisle. Rows of benches are set on each side facing it. The people flutter in. I walk behind the crowd and take a seat near the back. I could hardly see the front with the tall, dark-haired man in front of me.

I choose to go alone to pray: looking to find God, to let him know how things are going, to ask him to always be with me. I stay until I have my blessing from the travelling preacher. He extends his hand over my head. When others start falling and speaking in tongues, I leave. I fear for I don’t understand. My thought is they are having seizures. My heart pounds. My legs are quivering. I hurry out, leaving the travelling preacher and the big, white tent. The last words I hear are “God is here.”

A fragment of a memory so long ago. When I was young.

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The Stork Delivers

Ivcover (1000) (722x401)

A story was created and the birth of Ivy came to life in a form of a book. As the book nestled in its nest, it awaited delivery to a home far away by a busy stork: protective and caring.

Many readers, awaiting the book, will soon get to indulge in the life of Ivy, to know the walk of a Metis girl: The trying times along with the good times, when the stork delivers it.

Three Turkeys Later

Looking back at our most costly feast was the year we met at the oldest daughter’s home. She had gone out and bought a turkey a week prior to the big dinner. The day we were about to leave she called, “Mom, I forgot about the turkey and had it in the garage. It has been warm out. You think it’s okay?”

The turkey, with every disease-causing bacteria known to man had likely harvested itself in it, was definitely not going to be on our dinner plate. I replied, “No.”

“I have to work. You think you can get us another one?” she continued.

“Okay. You better chuck the turkey.” I ended.

We headed out. We hadn’t bothered to stop at the grocery store. We arrived at my daughters. Our son-in-law and our daughter were still at work. I took out my spare key and opened the door. We lugged our luggage in then left again to the grocery store. We only saw Butterball stuffed with stuffing. We checked another grocery store, same. I finally just bought Butterball. It was double what I usually paid for a regular turkey.

We went back to the house and when my daughter strolled in I told her what I bought. “We have to use our own stuffing.” she insisted.

My other daughter had not left from her place yet. I called her. “Hi, I got a stuffed turkey is it okay with you?” She too felt that we just had to use our own stuffing. “I’ll see if there are any left here.” she ended.

I hung up and early the next day she arrived with another turkey.

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Nasal, Ear, and Mouth Care

The funny things we do for healthcare.

healthThe flushing system of nasal, ear and mouth care involves running fluid through openings. Starting with the ear – there is Earigate, press can with tip pointing in ear. Make sure head is tilted so the fluid sprayed in the ear can run right back out. Once both ears are done move to the next step – nasal irrigation. How did they ever come up with douching the nose with a neti pot. Have the nasal wash solution (uniodized salt with water and a pinch of baking soda) ready, lean over the sink with head tilted down. With the filled sinus rinse bottle, squeeze into one nostril then do the other side. The nasal solution will go in one nostril and come out the other nostril. Some solution may end up in the mouth. DO NOT SWALLOW. Let the fluid run back out into the sink. Lastly, gargle with mouthwash, spit out – AGAIN, DO NOT SWALLOW. 🙂 All for what? Keeping the openings flushed, clean, washed, disinfected.

More on flushing nostrils:
Nasal Care

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Writing From The Heart

When I created the story of Ivy: The Stem of a Rose the biggest critics were people close to me; one suggesting that it was not good to start with this book. However, the more I thought about it the more I realized that I had started in the right direction. We may have come a long way as people with regard to tolerance and differences but it proves just how important it is to do this if just one person could think or say it. It also shows there is a stigma that is affecting the way people think and is influencing them. Writing from a perspective of a Metis should not matter. They say follow the heart and this is where my heart took me. It chose me as hard as that might be to believe. Furthermore, the more I fought it the harder it was for me to work on something else until I gave in and this was the outcome.

It can be called a calling, fate, or God’s will but whatever it is I did it by gut instinct. Anything that I succeeded in, I always felt good about and I still feel good about this, even when I receive discouraging comments. Thankfully, I also receive positive encouragement some of whom are educators and they love the story. Not to say that the ones who worried about the story thought it was bad but it is the insinuation of the story that proves existence of stigma. There are many types of stories out there that are about life situations and an aboriginal or Metis story should be just as desired as any other read. I want an awareness. I want to believe that we are beyond race and have readers truly interested in understanding someone elses type of walk. I don’t want us to go back to what I grew up experiencing (People not wanting to live by you because of your race). A sense of being limited in opportunity not just because one can’t afford it but because of stigma. Searching to fit in but never really feeling that true belonging. Crying in secret and pretending that it doesn’t hurt.

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