The Thursday Dream Came True

Smudged gold through a grubby windshield.                                                                             
A Sunday city sunset so bright, it’s blinding.



When you drive into the sunset on a Sunday evening, the glare of gold is blinding and your heart leaps at the glory glowing all around you …

The golden glory of that late-winter city sunset.

When you walk into a room doused with late-afternoon sun and run for your phone to get a picture.  To freeze the moment, that sense of wonder that washes over you …

Seconds of sudden sunshine spilling into a dim room 
Me with sun and shadow on the doors of the hall closet. Those golden, glorious, unexpected moments …


When a bar of sunshine spills all over the closet doors and your shadow slides into the panoply of light and shadow …

Moments of unexpected, unsolicited joy that whisper voiceless words of  wonder and promises of marvels to come.


This is my dream box –

The dream box sits in a corner of my bedroom, by the door. The first sight that meets my eye when I wake up in the morning.




It overflows with two decades of journals, the pen-and-ink record of significant moments — worst, best, lovely, ugly.  And all the dreams of course …

I was born to write. Write, I did.  All my life.  


So  Thursdays With Harold , a journey that commenced some years ago on the writers’ website,  , is finally a reality.

A ping on my phone one evening some years ago, alerts me to a message from Judy Starritt.  She’s found this blog and read the first teaser chapter of Thursdays With Harold.  She asks for more.

Judy has ALS , is paralyzed and has lost her power of speech.  She still has marginal use of her hands, however, and can read and type on her Ipad.  She’s a hawk for typos.  The teacher in her connects with the teacher in me.  We become fast friends and communicate daily via Facebook messenger. Her joy and determined vitality are infectious. She’s intrigued by Harold, the main character in the book, who is also an ALS patient.

I email her six chapters at a time.  

 Judy sent me this picture of her manuscript of Thursdays With Harold, which her husband printed for her to read.  It lies against the backdrop of the sheets of the bed she lay in. There’s a rainbow on it. We shared a mutual love of rainbows.
 Judy Starritt, wife, mother, grandmother, retired math teacher, an irrepressible, inspirational, vital, clever woman, who blazed a trail even through her ALS journey.










Judy comments  –

I finished your book about 3 hours ago.  Would you like to know my thoughts about it?

This book is TOO good to be tucked away.  THIS IS A BOOK THAT SHOULD BE READ.  A book club and discussion sort of book.  A PERFECT book club book that would lead into wonderful discussions.  A book that stays with you.

Is this book at a publishers? 

It is time for it to come out of the closet … or drawer… or hard drive.  How can I help with miracles? This SO needs to be published. 

There is such an awareness about ALS now. I could be in charge of East Coast publicity. I have learned that anything is possible.

Judy in the final days with her newest grandchild.     

Judy passes on some weeks later.  I’ve never met her in person, this woman who’s become such a dear and intimate friend.  I fly out to eastern Canada to attend her funeral in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia.

The hospital bed in which Judy spent her last years, set up by her bedroom window. On the bed lies her Ipad.  It was surreal to visit Judy’s home the day after her funeral in January 2018, to meet her family and experience the overwhelming sense of a woman I’d known so well, but never met face-to-face

The dream she’s rekindled refuses to die.  Anything is possible, she said …

But I need a cover design.

I reach out to Avril Borthiry, a talented Canadian writer of medieval romances.  We got acquainted on when she was creating her fascinating novel, Triskelion

Image may contain: 1 person, smiling, child and closeup
Avril Borthiry, talented writer and amateur cover designer par excellence, author of several novels,  My favourite is the haunting Triskelion.

“Who does your covers?” I asked.                            

“I do my own,” Av said. “I could design yours!”

It’s lovely when artists are generous with one another. 

Triskelion: a legend continues by [Borthiry, Avril]
Triskelion, by Avril Borthiry. A haunting tale of medieval Cumbria.
Avril produced a cover that read my heart.  She pushed me to persevere.  She sent me tips and links, made suggestions and critiqued. 

“I loved Harold.  It’s a story that must be told,” she said.

And so, the dream came true.

Thursdays With Harold is  available on Kindle and in paperback on Amazon –


Also as e-book on Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Indigo, Apple, Baker & Taylor, Bibliotheca, OverDrive and 24 Symbols.


This is the story of Thursdays With Harold —

Thursdays With Harold: cover design by Avril Borthiry

Harold Stedman, a quirky sixty-something suburban lawyer with a crooked smile and zany sense of humour, is retained by Fiona to represent her in a bizarre case of copyright theft and wrongful dismissal.

Shortly into the legal proceedings Harold is diagnosed with ALS. Within months he’s lost his power of speech, but he’s determined to see the case through.

Fiona makes weekly visits to Harold’s office as attorney and client make a united effort to laugh their way through the harrowing circumstances

Lorraine, Harold’s wife – a strong, stylish professional – and Fiona become friends as time ticks by and the case drags on. Then Lorraine Stedman turns nasty. Very nasty.

There’s a trial looming and finances are depleted. An ugly cloud hangs over Fiona. Will there be a way out?

Charged with pathos and fun, unexpected twists and convolutions, this is the compelling story of an unlikely friendship, misplaced trust and the mad scramble to wind up an ill-fated lawsuit.

Come on in and visit with Fiona on Thursdays with Harold …


Thank you, Judy Starritt, for believing in this novel.  I’ve dedicated it to your memory.  You came out of nowhere, reached out through cyberspace and helped me believe the dream was worth pursuing.

Thank you, Avril Borthiry for sharing your time, talent and expertise, and for convincing me to see this project through.  Without the crucial, final detail of an eye-catching cover Harold would never have hit the public forum.

Remember how your mum would tell you not to judge a book by its cover?  Not true in this demanding digital age!  The cover counts big time.  It’s the reader’s first exposure to the author’s work — to tempt or to turn away.

So this dream’s done and dusted off.   And now, there’s a brand new one simmering on my mind!  

I believe the best is yet to come.

Until next time,

Excitedly yours,

Judy sent me this picture. “… and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true …”

Just Junk (Or Maybe Not)

Fascinated by the art of decoupage as portrayed on Pinterest, I began to look for forlorn bits of this and that at garage sales and thrift stores.  Ideas for their transformation simmered and stewed until the magic moment arrived some weeks ago. 

When you wake up know it’s time to tackle the task …

The relentless force of it carried me through a fortnight of sanding, painting, gluing, lacquering.

When you start and simply have to keep going …

Exhibit One –

A handcrafted stool lurking on a pile of junk in a country thrift store.  One word: hideous. The darling drawer with the dangly handle was my undoing. 

Exhibit One – after sanding.  Lovingly handcrafted and painted by someone who knew what they were doing.  Water damage and peeling paint …
Mixed two shades of Dollarama paint to obtain the colour I needed.











A coat of Dollarama paint, two favourite hymns on the top and all around …

Et voila !  A quirky stool to tuck into a corner.  For occasional extra seating …

The music sheets of old hymns on top and all the way around
Aerial view of stool.  I ‘aged’ the sheet of music using a soaked tea bag.

Exhibits 2 & 3 –  Plain brown wood straight-backed chair and child’s rocking chair –

Forgot to take pre-painted ‘before’ pictures …


There’s a story to tell … 

I’d hunted fruitlessly for wrapping paper or paper napkins with an old fashioned sort of rose design. 

Months go by …

Searched for wrapping paper or paper napkins with a design like this one.  (Image downloaded from Pinterest)

A week before Easter my friend, Gail presented me with a bouquet of lilies.  The bridal blooms were done up in a layer of tissue paper printed all over with … red roses.  The exact kind I was looking for.  The attached card was from the florist at the mall up the street.

Woo hoo! Can’t wait to get going.  Transformation time.  Decoupage, here I come …



Pleasing finale. Tissue paper roses on garage sale salvage …


Wait …

That old flip-top table could do with a matching makeover. 

Rose-covered table to set off the seats.  Lovely …

Gail’s tissue paper yielded just enough for the two chairs – nothing left over.

Alas …

Flash of inspiration.  The mall florist might have a sheet or two to spare.


So I went.

Me: I received a bouquet of flowers from your store some days back.  It was wrapped in an unusual tissue paper with a beautiful rose print on it …

Pretty straight forward, huh?

Florist guy:  Yeah.  I know the one you mean.  You know what’s weird, though?

Okay, what?

                    …. We never ordered that kind.  We never have.  Don’t know why they came here.

Opens drawer and fishes around …

                                                            …They’re all gone.  Guess the girls used them up.  And we won’t …

Me:  … be getting anymore.

Florist Guy:  Weird, huh?  As I said, we never ordered it.  We only use the plain kind.

Weird all right …

So what’s going on? (Which door? Dreams or reality? Thanks, Nicole, for this pic.  Luvit!)
Love how life works … noticed this licence plate at the traffic lights on the disappointed drive back home!

Roses on two chairs AND a table would have been overkill anyway.

So I covered the table top with white lace, edged with baby ribbon.

Forgot (again!) to take a pre-painted pic.  The ghost of a once elegant table, with chipped paintwork in a floral crackle-effect off-white and blue design







A chandelier rainbow settled on the tabletop as I worked .  It turned out rather nice.





Love the finished effect …

I paused to ponder on the Tale of the Florist and the Tissue Paper

A light went on –

There’s a dream waiting to come alive in every rejected thing and there’s a dream-bringer who makes it happen. At the top of the chain is the Dreamgiver who creates the dream, orchestrates and manipulates events to make it all come true …

The way I saw it …

This poor monstrosity has lived in the basement since forever –

Haven’t been able to bring myself to toss it out …

Just had another idea for a fabulous furniture facelift.  

Watch out for the next Cinderella table-metamorphosis story coming to this blog!

I love breathing new life into dull, dead things.  Adore the thought of being prompted by a dream-giver.

Found this book in a clearance bin at a bookstore.  Couldn’t put it down. (The Dream Giver by Bruce Wilkinson – author of The Prayer of Jabez)
Check it out …












So there’s really no such thing as junk …

Thankful for beauty-basking-beneath-ugly-if-you-only-choose-to-look

Thankful for dreams.

A passerby as I took a walk one morning …


Why ever not?








There’s always another dream.  And then the next one.   And the next.                                                      

Roses … tiny dreams-come-true.  Teddy bears’ teaparty time for two little tykes! (Thank you my friend, Liesl, for the vintage ‘roses’ table lamp – a perfect match!)
On my desk to remind me …








Can’t stop dreaming, no matter what!

Until next time,




P.s.  ‘Crafty’ weekend guests offer invaluable input.  Thank you Roshini!


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Acid Words Or Rainwater?

“I suck at this,” she wailed. ” I’ll never get it.  I’m going to fail.  Why even bother to try?”                

Some people take to certain things like ducks to water.  Others not so much.                      

All five fingers are not the same, Mum used to say…                                                                      

I watched as she struggled to accomplish her task, heaping negativity on her hapless head.  Her words settled like corrosive dead-weights in my spirit.

“Don’t say such things,” I uttered.  “Words are powerful.  They stick and become self-fulfilling.”

If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say it, Mum would say …

“That’s what you always say.” She sounded irritated.   “So what? It’s just  words.”

No.  Not just words …

Proverbs 18:21 Life and death are in the power of the tongue …

I began to see a vivid picture in my mind.  Two seedlings in glass containers, one full of acid and the other rainwater.

How it unfolded in my mind

“If you were a plant,” I said, “And words were the medium you were growing in, if kind, positive words were rain water and negative, condemning words were acid – which one would you thrive in?”

She grew silent.

“If you wake up every morning and hear someone tell you how ugly, rotten and dumb you are, that you’ll never go far or succeed, can you imagine the toxicity you’ll imbibe?  At some point you’ll come to believe                                                                                                  what you hear. Your spirit                                                                                                                 receives what your ear hears until it                                                                                             becomes a part of who you are.                                                                                                                                                

No comment.

I plodded on. “On the other hand, if someone tells you daily that you are beautiful, smart, talented and capable of achieving anything you set your mind to … imagine the pure rainwater seeping in nourish your spirit.”

Point made.  Her exasperation remained, but the dark words ceased.  

For the moment.Oh, to always be able to see the gorgeous pink sunset behind and that dark, dark cloud

Sunset behind a rain cloud (Niagara Falls, summer 2017)

Some weeks back,  I stepped into the mall and understood — all over again — the power of words.  I’d recently begun to experience occasional darts of doubt . Amazingly, that mellow evening, it seemed like my steps led me from store to store and brought pause at unexpected spots where wonderful words leapt out to cheer me on –









I couldn’t have contrived the inspiration, if I’d tried.  My spirits rose and began to soar.

But that wasn’t all …

On my way home, there was an impelling to stop at a supermarket I don’t often visit.  I paid for two bags of soil I didn’t urgently require and headed out.  A man hurried up from behind and bent over my cart.

“Those look heavy,” he said pleasantly.

I smiled, “They are.”

“I need some for my garden,”  the stranger added, “but that’s why I didn’t get any today!”

He straightened up and I became instantly aware of the words on the back of his T-shirt –

I had to get a picture so I would remember that moment always

I gotta believe …

Caught my breath on a gasp.

Gotta get a picture!

Hurried into the parking lot and chased the gentleman down.

Me (to man)I know this sounds silly, but do you believe in signs?

Man (looking startled)I do.

Me: Would you mind if I took a picture of the words on the back of your T-shirt?  I needed to see them. They were my sign today.

Man turned around and obligingly posed.


Man:  So what are your plans for the summer?

Me:  I don’t know.  I have so many dreams and they were beginning to die.  That’s why I needed those words.  Thank you!

Man: I really need to get some of that soil, you know.

Me:  So go get some.  Maybe I am your sign for today!

My heart sang all the twilit way back home.

Love how rosy watercolour-ish twilight cloaks the street – well after 9.00 at night (Canada Day, July 2017)

The final clincher came a week later, at the dentist’s office.  

I became acutely aware – the moment I stepped in – of the single word tattooed on the neck of the girl manning the phones.  She had her back to me –

Her co-worker held her hair out of the way while she posed for the picture


Point taken — signed, sealed and delivered!

I’d have to be really dense not to get it by now …

So it’s done.  The audio version of Next Week, On Thursday is up on You Tube.


Click here to check out Selina’s You Tube Channel

all thirty eight chapters of it.

Sneak peak.  Click here to listen to Next Week, On Thursday: Chapter One – The Scent Of Jasmine. Feedback is hugely appreciated.










To stop dreaming is to die a little every day.

… so I won’t.

Until next time,


Always reaching …
I got many more than I asked for! (On the arm of young  bakery assistant)












Everywhere!  Blame it on the summer

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Aloha Sweet Things!

Meet  Sharyn Stone, my friend.  She and husband, Jeff, live the enviably idyllic barefoot life at Huelo Point Lookout Bed And Breakfast (, in Maui. 

The English Duke/Earl of Somewhere-Or-Other had just honeymooned at Huelo Point with his fourth (fifth?) bride when Husband and I visited just before Christmas 2013.

Picture breathtaking, heart-stopping paradise.

Sharyn at Huelo Point Lookout, Maui, Hawaii. (Bed and breakfast owned and operated by Dr. Jeff and Sharyn Stone)

First met Sharyn on the internet (gasp!) on a writer’s website,

We each discovered our Writing Twin.  (Never thought to meet one in this lifetime.)

Not really!  Uncannily related in many ways, tho’ ..
Same fave novels as girls, same fave plays, poems, same passion for theatre.  Incredible serendipity.
Husband with Jeff and Sharyn, Huelo Point Lookout, Maui

Sharyn is everything I’m not, the very opposite, possibly, as regards general outlook and life philosophy and yet …

We call each other Twinnie!





















This bio in her blog says it all –


Getting older and, for the most part, having a blast!


I guess I’m all about following one’s dreams—even though, sometimes, those dreams change into others and we have to make that adaptation—but I have no intention of dying with my “music unsung”!

See what I mean?

 I’m half her height (mildly exaggerating), and  NOT a blonde bombshell– but I’ve no intention of dying with my “music unsung” either!

Sharyn posted on her Facebook page shortly after the dawn of 2017


Old Girls Looking … What??  

That’s Sharyn all right!

Her dream’s coming true.

Tickets, anyone (click here)?

One-woman musical. A bittersweet, poignant, sometimes irreverent look into life as she’s lived it. Script, lyrics and acting by Sharyn Stone, storyteller par excellence, poet, playwright.

She sang and played for me from the show’s musical score, over the phone last month, just before Christmas.  

Almost picked up my feet and danced.



Had the privilege of reading an early draft.

Reading material on endless flight en route to  Sri Lanka




Sparks of brilliance.  Definitely going places.

Felt it in my bones …



This is Sharyn with her adorable sidekick, Joyce Romero (82 years young) and the comment accompanying the email she sent along with the picture –

and you thought leaf blowers were for the GARDEN??? Think AGAIN TWINNIE!

The wind-blown look.  Sharyn with Joyce, posing for OGLH poster (on her neighbour’s Harley).



That’s for sure!
No way.  Not those two!
Old Girls, the demure version
She most certainly is!

img_20160505_095939         Aloha, Sweet Things!









A peep into the final scene of Old Girls (with permission, copyright Sharyn Stone):

STORYTELLER/SHARYN: What’s that old guy looking at? (Speaking to “old guy”) Yes? Do you need the machine

MIME/MALE GYM MEMBER, OLD:  No, no thank you. It’s just that … well … I’ve been watching you for months now. You’re beautiful.  And I just want to say how great it is to see Old Girls like you …     Oops – that didn’t come out right


MIME/MALE GYM MEMBER, OLD:  Old girls … like you … looking … Hot! And I don’t mean … sweaty. You are seriously … HOT. On the INSIDE.  I mean …

The message?                                                    

I’m not.


I agree.  One hundred percent.

I’d rather not know.
Go on!


Congratulations, Twinnie!  

Thrilled for you.   

Your name in lights …


So here’s to all the dreamers who DARE to dream –
Buying coffee at  Tim Horton’s.  She let me take a picture of the caption.
Clipping from Toronto Star
Thankful for the ability to keep dreaming in spite of naysayers, sneering sceptics.  Despite what life’s flung my way –
Tune out the dreamkillers … and run.
 My friend Joan Adams wrote on New Year’s day –
Dream Again
… To each one who’s forgotten to dream.
Do you remember that old suitcase
Where  dreams were hidden and no longer seen?
Used with permission, copyright Joan Adams, another internet friend from Fanstory (who lives within visiting distance.)


I believe.

Happy New Year!
Until next time,
 PS: All the pictures in this post are clicks on Ipad and phone. 

So Long Brangelina

Brangelina’s done.  Announcement sets social media ablaze.









How did the bubble burst?



No one knows
All by myself







Shocked fans.   Shattered illusions. 

Brad-Pitt-‘N’-Angelina-Jolie …  poster kids  for You-Can-Have-It-All.

# Déjà vu   #What’s new?

Did they?
Hollywood’s Golden Couple

Six youngsters now face a new reality.  Sad.

Pitt-Jolie brood – poor mites

As Mum often said , and The Beatles sang …  money can’t buy you love.

The Fab Four (Beatles tribute band) Money can’t buy me love …
Concert In The Park 2016


The point is …

You never know what goes on behind closed doors.  (Yep, Mum said that too!)………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Garden gates are intriguing.  They seem to beckon and invite into a world beyond. 

You might, however, lift the latch and walk through to find a disappointing Other Side.

Food for thought…


Saw this one as I drove by last week.  Stopped to take a picture.


Yes!  Made my day.


This week’s Joy Moments

(1) Full moon  through bathroom skylight –         

Midnight magic

(2)  Husband in Andy’s sunglasses –

A refelctive mood








(3) Shiny green bug in Garden –

Neon green sheen








(3) Butterfly at mid-week picnic with  Little Girl and her mom –

Reshma spotted it 
Monarch butterfly


(4) Sky on kitchen counter/ in sink –

(5) Chipmunk in birdfeeder –

Tea anyone?

(6) Apples in garden sun –

Every single one!










This week’s assignment:  Keep a journal of daily joy moments.









Not really!
















.Smile for the day – 

In mall parking lot

They don’t??


Until next time,


Something’s a-foot







You make your bed, you lie on it. (Another gem from Mum!)









PS:  The pictures in this post (except the Pitt-Jolies) were random moments captured on my Ipad and phone.

Feel free to share, like this page and follow.   Continue reading “So Long Brangelina”

In The Nut Aisle


There is the occasional time when discouragement slithers in under the guise of common sense, and hisses, “Sorry babe, it ain’t ever gonna happen!”

Such a weight of deflated dreams descended on me for no particular reason last week, right in the middle of  grocery day.  Feeling grim and bereft, I tossed items into a supermarket cart, and wandered around until I found myself looking at this enormous fabric creature perched on a stack of plastic storage bins –

Smile …

 It  didn’t belong where I found it.  Someone had set it down there,  just in time for me and my mood.  The red heart and goofy smile felt like a love letter of reassurance. My spirits rose.  Cart and I continued on and rounded a corner.  The caption on an outsize shirt shouted  –


The load of doubt dissolved and I smiled in spite of myself. How could I help it when the very space around me seemed to conspire in my favour?  [My friend, Rosalyne, calls this phenomenon Universal Synchronicity.)

It’s amazing how a single special moment can


My mum used to say, 


Look at this –


Never too old …

Radical, thrilling!


FullSizeRender (12)

I wouldn’t be able to bear it.

I took this picture last week – 


, chuckling at memories of a friend who once told me her family tree was composed entirely of fruits and nuts!  I grinned and remembered a recent moment at the bulk food store, when I unintentionally eavesdropped on a brief conversation.

“Could you tell me where the hazelnuts are?” a man asked.


, sir. In the nut aisle,” the assistant replied. 

My mind boggled as I began to visualize the faces I’d find on the shelves of the nut aisle.  



 Pretty much anyone who thinks

Normal is boring!
Normal is boring!

  , I suppose, and that would include me, for sure!

There are three kinds of people in this world –

(1) The IMG_20160318_112602706_HDR(2) The non-dreamer


(3) The dream-killer

  • The dreamer – that’s you (if you’re a nut!)
  • The non-dreamer – the one who  regrets his inability to dream big crazy dreams, and might enjoy living vicariously through you
  • The dream-killer — the practical, down-to-earth sort of person who feels duty-bound to tell you that it’s time to grow up and stop wasting your time.

Here’s the deal – _20150709_210453

Of courseIMG_20160306_194453

and believes in the dream.

Dear fellow nut, do you know you have a




 Of course,


so _20150513_184057




Above all IMG_20160223_113111


So …_20150428_144734



At the end of life’s journey, I want to be able to say,


Well –








, but big or small


A toast to all the dreaming nuts (and fruits) out there –