Anticipating the grey


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There has been much ado about a female Canadian national news anchor who chose to let her hair go grey during the COVID-19 pandemic restrictions. I thought she looked marrrvelous. I silently commended her for dismissing the burdens of perceived beauty and expectations from society.

Here is a taste of the news of CTV executives letting her go and the rumours surrounding it:

Myself, I look forward to letting my natural blonde hair go grey. I welcome the wisdom that will come with it. Lord knows I have had enough life lessons. I also welcome the opportunity to retire gracefully, migrating to a role that appeals to my sense of organization while jumping off the hamster wheel of ever-changing technology.

I would like to see others let their hair go natural, dismissing the pressures from peers, employers, marketers and social media influencers. It will be interesting to see if the “grey filter” attempts from national brands will work in favour for their public image or fall flat.

If one must colour one’s hair, please choose products that are environmentally friendly and won’t damage our precious water supply. You are beautiful the way you are in your natural state while experimenting with different styles that don’t require gobs of hair spray, mousse or gel.

Thanks for dropping by. Feel free to suggest natural beauty products in the comments section and provide a brief explanation. Obvious spammy, salesy comments will not be welcome.



Oh! those summer nights


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This post contains scenes of nature therapy, art therapy and memories of teenage love.

First, let’s pay tribute to a talented actress and songbird, Olivia Newton-John who recently passed away at the age of 73 after a long battle with cancer.

The summer of 1978 was one of adventure and romance for me and my best friend. We met cute boys whose families owned cottages on Georgian Bay. The days and nights were full of giggles, kisses and hopes. I remember exchanging letters and pining for my American boyfriend months after his family returned home and everyone fell back into weekly routines. I held onto the sweet memories for months until they were buried and cooled by the winter’s snow. We saw each other the following summer, only in passing, exchanging polite greetings.

Olivia Newton-John sings Hopelessly Devoted from that cult classic, Grease

Fast forward to summer nights occupied with glamorous household chores, mellowing out with TV sitcoms, and adjusting fans to cool off my sweaty, menopausal body. Some of the perspiration is caused by frustrations with a geriatric Cat.

Closing off a well-appreciated vacation week, I recently joined members of my Rotary club and a dear friend for a forest therapy guided tour of nearby woods. It was refreshing to get outdoors plus meet people whose faces I had only seen on the screen during Zoom meetings.

One tree endured ten minutes of my sensory attention during a forest therapy exercise
The author appreciates the sights, sounds, and aromas during a forest therapy guided tour

I admit to hugging a tree during this event. I struggled to quiet my busy mind that constantly needs to identify and classify my surroundings.

You can learn more about this forest therapy practice at

One daily activity this past week was to evolve a piece of art as homage to one of my favourite, underappreciated artists. It also provided me with mindless dotting of colours while watching TV or listening to music with a really good beat.

Night forest – a study in pointillism, markers, August 2022 TAJ

I think one can appreciate the final result after viewing the progress. Let me know what you think: .

Now it is Sunday, a day of reflection, household chores and preparing for the return to the downtown workplace. Let us pray that the Busing Gods will be kind.

Thank you for dropping by, especially if you are a real person and not the creator of a made-up blog.


A test of unconditional love

I think that maternal instincts never cease.


Readers of this blog are aware that I am the chief caregiver for my daughter’s geriatric Tabby Cat.

She is almost 17 years old and prone to kidney failure. My daughter used to joke with worry that the cats would outlive me and she would end up having to take them in. Well, one cat down (Snuggles in 2019) but this one is still holding on.

The Cat’s name is Geneva, which I use when speaking fondly to her, responding to her demands and providing hugs. When referring to the expenses, emotional toll and cleanups, I just use “the Cat”.

The old girl recently had a couple of Vet visits to monitor her blood sugar levels, kidneys and general health. A neighbour loaned me her pet stroller for the most recent visit instead of me stuffing her into a carrier and taking taxis. I may need it again next week…

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