tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39485857899307934172024-02-19T03:45:32.729-05:00Create Your Own ProductionsIt’s time to Arise; shine.
My mother suggested, "Why not create your own...?"
I took a leap!
So, it's about life, love and
laughter - to enlighten,
educate and inspire.
Sometimes you just need
to be inspired in order
to make it Home.
Know that only you can, and ever will, be you. Ever!
Let's use our talents, and all that we are, to the last drop!
As a human being, and a human doing,
do I make Him proud?Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.comBlogger258125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-4571516945944274472021-03-20T20:17:00.001-04:002021-03-20T20:17:17.074-04:00I'm...back? I'm back. I'M BACK, BABY!<p> Hi.</p><p>*grins from ear to ear*</p><p>I've been trying to get back in to my Blogger (when I left in 2015 it was Blogspot - still is?) for ages.</p><p>Finally found help moments ago using the suggested blogger.com/forgot.do. Hadn't even realize the associated email is one I had long since abandoned (read: deactivated - to the best of my knowledge (goes to show)). </p><p>There were backup credentials, thank God. Entered the pw I'd used back then - to the best of my memory.</p><p>And, wouldn't you know it? Voilà!</p><p>So glad it worked. I had been paying for hosting for a few years and, after even after I'd stopped writing new posts, I was still paying. It made little sense. How I longed to regain the ability to post for free - on my own site (read: my own free blogging spot). </p><p>This feels good. 🥰</p><p>I don't know how often I'll be posting or when my next post will be. Right now I'm simply so delighted and excited at getting back in.</p><p>Writing this entry on my phone. They sure made it easier to do that. *looks around for other new-to-me stuff* </p><p>Whew! I'm enjoying this.</p><p>C.</p><p>twitter.com/cyopro</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-23985772036867935072015-09-08T22:18:00.000-04:002015-09-08T22:18:43.631-04:00New Home!<br />
Hi. It's the 8th of September. You might not yet have been wondering where today's post is. After all, many of them have been rolled out only when I got in the mood of last minute panic :-) Well, not really, but you get the idea.<br />
<br />
Guess what? My blog has found a new home: <a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a>! My website still needs a few touches, but I made sure to get the blog section populated <i>first</i>. Everything else took...it took a while. Jah know. If I hear anyone say the word <i>plug-in</i> (technically, that's one word), I think I'm gonna give them "the look."<br />
<br />
Okay. Lemme not go on about my WordPress work. I'm glad to let you know the site is up and running, and that's where my blog posts are going to be from now on. I wanted to make sure the first post on the new site made it at the start of this year eight.<br />
<br />
Seven years at Blogspot. Wow. I think I'm already missing Blogspot a little. But, I have to let go of this thing, for the something new. :-)<br />
<br />
Reminds me a bit of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jcOjEHQq9GI" target="_blank">Mr. Monk and the Badge</a>. Start watching at 3:44, but that tear-jerking clip starts at 4:50. You didn't think I'd leave here without mentioning Monk, did you? Have we met? (Also a Monk reference. Lol!)<br />
<br />
Sigh. Thank you, so very much, for sticking around here with me.<br />
<br />
Join me over there, won't you?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://wwww.twitter.com/cyopro">wwww.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/cyopro">www.facebook.com/cyopro</a> - Yes. Facebook. It's not personal. It's a Page. :-)Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-84408668965021257802015-08-28T21:28:00.000-04:002015-08-31T09:12:31.371-04:00What to Expect When You're Expecting to Be Published<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yeeaah. I don't know what other soon-to-be-published authors feel with
mere weeks to go before their first book is published, but, right now...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ohhhh myyyy Godddddd! <a href="http://www.claudiawilliams.cawingcrowpress.com/" target="_blank">My first book</a> is coming out soon and people,
like, real people, are gonna read it!! What if they <i>do </i>read it??!! Uggghhh! What is that rumbling in the
pit of my belly??!! Wait. What if...oh no! What if nobody wants to read it??!!
What if people <i>don't </i>read it?! Or, what if they read it and they think it's
crap??!!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What <i>is </i>that rumble?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ah, yes. The fluttering of so many butterflies. And I'm
constantly whipping them into V-formation.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDYmBEZgyjGNMQ7tKaGz39lormjs3J59In4UluO8zS3gO34gIaApJBZYzB56ILpmkqvILDjPipC8xapoOSiV4_dDpQ9Foj-I3rIiQiJgmtxAkIVVZ1morazTyIsqvAQHMTS7jEsZ3CJw/s1600/butterflies+-+silverbirchpress.wordpress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDYmBEZgyjGNMQ7tKaGz39lormjs3J59In4UluO8zS3gO34gIaApJBZYzB56ILpmkqvILDjPipC8xapoOSiV4_dDpQ9Foj-I3rIiQiJgmtxAkIVVZ1morazTyIsqvAQHMTS7jEsZ3CJw/s400/butterflies+-+silverbirchpress.wordpress.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neither my image - nor my butterflies.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span id="goog_931074278"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seriously, it cannot be that others are as cool as a
cucumber in times like this. No way. There must be a heavy dose of adrenaline
coursing through the veins on any given day - and twice on Sunday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now and then I think, "I did it. I really did it."
It may be crap, but it's my crap. (Umm, that didn't come out the way I had it
in mind.) Point is, we are constantly bombarded by life-affirming and
ability-affirming quotes and memes and books and speakers and influencers and
and and... We hear and read so much about moving forward against the odds;
facing your fears; winning; taking a leap; go for it, etc., etc. Inevitably,
though, after we reach our goal, or, if after much effort we fall short, as night follows day, some will find something to pick at. It comes with
the territory.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not to say that as creators, and humans doing, we
should not be open to getting frank feedback about our work. Very few get it right
the first time around. So, we "tek telling" as the Jamaican
expression goes, and work toward better. It is to say, rather, that the
naysayers we have always with us. "It's what it's" - as a funny tweep wrote the
other day. Lol!<br />
<br />
Fear. The fear of not getting it right. The fear of people laughing at what we've created. The fear of what people will say. Fear in some shape or form is what keeps us from starting, doing, finishing. Know what? Do your dream because: (1) It is yours to do. No one else in the world can do your dream like you. (2) Some people will always have negative things to say. It's like it's in their DNA. Plus, they don't matter. (3) You will feel good, real good, after beating the fear and doing what you set out to do! I promise.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This book is rather personal - and telling. As one reviewer
had said, by the end, readers will feel like they know me. Still not sure
whether I'm ready for that reality. But, it is written.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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They will know this book is about life and love and heartbreaks and that...that I dared to get back up. Every.
Single. Time. And hope. They will know that, although it often feels like Love has kicked the crap
out of me, I'm still here. (I feel a voice-over coming on: <i>We the unbeatable, do the
"impossible", and remain hopeful "in the face of aridity and
disenchantment."</i>) I've made the choice to embrace the good and be inspired
by the joy of those close and not so close; to hope that, come what may, I will
always choose to live fully in each moment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hope.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hope in God to lift me and set me up upon a rock; to make
my feet like hinds' feet; to make me mount up with wings as eagles; to restore
to me the years the locusts have eaten... Hope is a good thing. Where I place
it is even more important. Many don't mix their creative work with worship. I
do. I am, after all, blessed and highly flavoured. Chocolat. To God be all the
glory for His favour and His hand upon me and this writing journey and this new
book. And the new website. (It's getting there.) His thoughts and actions
toward me are terrible, awesome, wondrous, and beautiful. He is about to blow
my expectations of success - millions of copies sold worldwide; published in
several languages - and my dreams of positively touching lives, out of the
water! #ExceedingAbundantly. He loves me, and if I knew nothing else, that
would be enough. But, I also know this: He is holding my heart. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Funny, at this point in the post, I don't feel as anxious as
when I'd started. :-)<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here's the thing: If I'm not gonna dream big, then what, pray tell, is the point of
dreaming at all? I dream big (and in colour) to the point where it sounds ridiculous - and
scary! And,
I put in the work, too, and continue to do so. I'm not just referring to the decades of
putting pen or pencil to paper. I'm talking about the more recent writing, and
editing, and working with the publisher who said they'd like to work with me.
I'm talking about finding... no, <i>making </i>time to write. I have a full-time job which, occasionally, has me travelling. I've whipped out my
phone and got to writing during my morning and evening commute on the GO Train; at lunch; at work (shhh); on vacation; on the
plane en route to my vacation destination; on staycation; at the park by the
Lake; in the bathroom (don't ask); in bed... I have even been awoken by a vivid
thought and scribbled notes while half asleep, and, come morning, tried to
decipher what the heck I had written on the post-it pad. But still I
write. #writeorsuffocate</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I learned to reach out for help. I even know what it feels like to woman up and ask a complete stranger
for their take on an excerpt. Why? I try to keep my focus on that which cannot
be seen by the naked eye. I keep telling myself, it's going to be beautiful.
And, I want to leave behind something bigger than myself; something relatable;
something new.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the reasons I'd wanted to publish this anthology at
this time, is that I wanted to...make room, if you will, for the new phase of
love in my life. And, the new phase of me, too - ready to be loved thickly in
return. Pretty brave of me to come right out and say that, but, given that this
book is a go, well, I must get used to the idea of allowing those words to leave my lips. Plus, as I've learned, love alone
is not enough. Deciding to be with someone for the rest of your life takes,
among other things, courage.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another reason is: I wanted for my mom to behold this
completed work. She has been one of my main cheerleaders, and it would give me
joy and pleasure to see her reading my book. Tee hee. And, just so you know, all my birth
family and close friends have been supportive. They rock! Muahh!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet another reason: For one, or two, or three people - a
girl can hope - who will be able to say, "I can relate." Yeah. Relatabilty.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today marks the 7th anniversary of my blog. I've said it in
this space a few times before, Usain Bolt's performance on the track at the
Beijing 2008 Olympics helped to light a fire within. On Sunday, August 23, he
sprinted to victory in the 100m at the World Championships - again in <st1:city w:st="on">Beijing</st1:city>. He wasn't in top
form, physically, and there'd been much talk of a Bolt/Gatlin face-off. At the finish, he came through in 9.79s to his main rival's 9.80s. Someone made the point
on Twitter that he is mentally strong. I agree. One needs to be able to silence the demons
and the negative voices in one's head; rise above the fray, and persist to
succeed. I smiled in agreement and admiration as <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWcVth6FMdA" target="_blank">Bolt articulated this bit in a recent Puma ad</a>: "...when
he says, "On your mark," and I take a deep breath, look down the lane
and...it's time to go." Love that. Live that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the end, I did it for me. It was time to share this
part of myself. As I've said in the intro to my book, I do not have
a story. I am a story. I have a voice.<br />
<br />
<i>Fourteen to Fortyish: The Formative Years</i> speaks volumes. I truly hope that you will give a listen.<br />
<br />
<br />
Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a></div>
Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-4344377771611762932015-08-18T22:58:00.000-04:002015-08-31T09:06:12.947-04:00All of Life is Happening<br />
Among other reasons, I decided to make my website (cyopro.com) a "real website", as my first book is about to be published. The author's bio for <i><a href="http://www.claudiawilliams.cawingcrowpress.com/" target="_blank">Fourteen To Fortyish</a></i> does make reference to my website, and, well, I did not relish the thought of readers heading to a starter page on <i>Yahoo!</i><br />
<br />
So, this past June, I made the leap! I asked around and went with the strong recommendation from one of the IT guys at work. I bought a template from Template Monster. The Live Chat guy was very good. He knew his stuff, and he was patient. Over three hours later - I had to choose from hundreds! - I was all sorted out. We'd narrowed it down to a WordPress theme, given that the flagship feature is going to be about the book and, a close second, my blog. Yes, this blog. Plus, he'd also walked me through purchasing hosting services from Blue Host. They're pretty good, too.<br />
<br />
Thanks to help from sis, <a href="https://twitter.com/MizDurie" target="_blank">@MizDurie</a>, who refused to have me languishing in the throes of copy and paste, I learned there was a plug-in to transfer blog posts from Blogger to my new WordPress-themed website. The transfer took about five minutes. It might've taken less time, had I not stopped to read and take screen shots of the instruction pages. Y'know? For my files? (Like I'm asking.)<br />
<br />
Let's move on.<br />
<br />
So, that's where I am now. I've changed the title of the home page; done some font changes; added photos, and populated the home page with starter copy. I recently referred to the write up/rationale for cyopro in its genesis. The words I'd written in my notebook back in 2010 still hit home: "...a vibrant place of engagement where stories are told and experienced...where authors go..." Okay, that's enough of a sneak peak. :-) The plan is to tighten it up here and there. I believe it will speak to someone. Relatability, right?<br />
<br />
It's all coming together. Some days it feels like baby steps, and on others, I look back and think I've taken a leap. Annette did appear! :-) The timing of all this is something else, too. It has been an extremely busy year - so far! I expect that the pace will not slow down and that things will be better. I've changed jobs; left the country a couple times; sold and bought new homes; moved; unpacked. Correction: I'm unpacking... During all of that, I finished and submitted my manuscript; provided write-ups; worked on the cover, and did the first revision of the interior file. And now, I've taken to work on my website. Yes, it does feel like all of life is happening - at once! :-)<br />
<br />
You remember that saying, right? <i>"Isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different."</i> - C.S. Lewis<br />
<br />
Yeah, it's kinda like that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-75363700741915240832015-08-08T23:18:00.000-04:002015-08-11T10:13:48.374-04:00Unphotographable Beauty Is A Thing<br />
Unphotographable beauty. I came across that term for the first - and only - time in Toni Morrison's <i>Tar Baby</i>. Its use has been warranted more times than I can recall. For, who among us has experienced a pang of disappointment when, upon reviewing a photo of a majestic scene, realizes that the picture simply does not do it justice? Go on. Raise your hand. I'll wait.<br />
<br />
Okay.<br />
<br />
The term came to mind - and use - again, during my recent visit to Jamaica. Reuniting with family and friends was a joyous experience. The highlight of the trip was the wedding. Sis, Durie, got married to her fiance, Ric. I was honoured and humbled to have been asked to be her Maid of Honour. Their special day was a beautiful one in Ocho Rios, St. Ann.<br />
<br />
The visit yielded hundreds of breathtaking photos. Hundreds, for, as you know, while there's storage, there will be pics. And that was just from one camera (read: smartphone).<br />
<br />
Here are a few I thought I'd share. Again, that term comes to mind. Unphotographable beauty.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUirmznJDuXxLJks1lMqXHoJDBvNxYvmSU4W6qcC9y99cnadJDT-TnYY28MeQ2ppWK1A9cVvkKbe_8OsW1FAN4bXqkgM3p8AaU0YAZ01oCV0kIrtc73IfKmMJ_MLQKy-Rw4hEYII_dMo/s1600/IMG_20150710_135448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUirmznJDuXxLJks1lMqXHoJDBvNxYvmSU4W6qcC9y99cnadJDT-TnYY28MeQ2ppWK1A9cVvkKbe_8OsW1FAN4bXqkgM3p8AaU0YAZ01oCV0kIrtc73IfKmMJ_MLQKy-Rw4hEYII_dMo/s320/IMG_20150710_135448.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching (the dreaded) Flat Bridge, Bog Walk, St. Catherine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1KT5PJz_JO-Gk4GLpsRxWMbhlluT17LH2DBjLcHJwJvj0wZPJV-Igm5I8YhSj3rKVkF2VZeAJAyUK2nDVM9tlsrE8RWvlwQ4IlNuNDpAD1-Dzc-PJuAAsR7zMW9nXlroiGmVvKcZmoU/s1600/IMG_20150710_135458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1KT5PJz_JO-Gk4GLpsRxWMbhlluT17LH2DBjLcHJwJvj0wZPJV-Igm5I8YhSj3rKVkF2VZeAJAyUK2nDVM9tlsrE8RWvlwQ4IlNuNDpAD1-Dzc-PJuAAsR7zMW9nXlroiGmVvKcZmoU/s320/IMG_20150710_135458.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Closer...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhp9XIY63JJA34zZmR1p4I0aozuhm-2BrhQYE3Y0Eh8GgityTcQh_u6FJO13r0k3yFyoWipFBdz4JPKcRMnNBCqQyLhCkGpYH4iQBaB7pV46QtlCKhuB_bR6H4CWKUGVvsEO5u5BtuGo/s1600/IMG_20150710_135504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhp9XIY63JJA34zZmR1p4I0aozuhm-2BrhQYE3Y0Eh8GgityTcQh_u6FJO13r0k3yFyoWipFBdz4JPKcRMnNBCqQyLhCkGpYH4iQBaB7pV46QtlCKhuB_bR6H4CWKUGVvsEO5u5BtuGo/s320/IMG_20150710_135504.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost there...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkOX3p5DBMVQkaFJFJgZYWm9V7XjVQefllWNwxxQO74r0rd8NXqqfxQmAxoITUr0GKIsYeOJGgXsK7d0XPoKOfZ620GQGITXQ97EyktzeBdzfEgP-Atx8araoIpgaIc5V_RVh6gK_UqlU/s1600/IMG_20150710_135512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkOX3p5DBMVQkaFJFJgZYWm9V7XjVQefllWNwxxQO74r0rd8NXqqfxQmAxoITUr0GKIsYeOJGgXsK7d0XPoKOfZ620GQGITXQ97EyktzeBdzfEgP-Atx8araoIpgaIc5V_RVh6gK_UqlU/s320/IMG_20150710_135512.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Over it!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdgekgwFDUTn5MHUdzwe7A4bhyAmqM0Z4OaUrz20gDaF7d-wcUBcMMQOut4HzFElFlzPDFeW41ehWSnMPWMf0VxBaiC8hsDgi01IA2v1MaMInPyZ6OzfYUIZq-E7GBCHjLGWb6ANpoeAA/s1600/IMG_20150710_135729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdgekgwFDUTn5MHUdzwe7A4bhyAmqM0Z4OaUrz20gDaF7d-wcUBcMMQOut4HzFElFlzPDFeW41ehWSnMPWMf0VxBaiC8hsDgi01IA2v1MaMInPyZ6OzfYUIZq-E7GBCHjLGWb6ANpoeAA/s320/IMG_20150710_135729.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rather popular "vaggie rock". You can see why. In colloquial language, it goes by another name. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwylkV6n0RTo7CwT51IkIulR_z2y4FUAYQixYzLMP2IXh1y8iw13PKAlUCodxevMlHgbheyFmxdTDomKA1x7Nj1gy_dJ8l6M33Jv3h4Q7_LnUKRMD_W5gXg5weyBbJANPEwxTcznA2Qo/s1600/IMG_20150710_141703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwylkV6n0RTo7CwT51IkIulR_z2y4FUAYQixYzLMP2IXh1y8iw13PKAlUCodxevMlHgbheyFmxdTDomKA1x7Nj1gy_dJ8l6M33Jv3h4Q7_LnUKRMD_W5gXg5weyBbJANPEwxTcznA2Qo/s320/IMG_20150710_141703.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the North South Highway. <br />
(If yuh want good road, toll haffi run.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIuILf956NK6UxcRR42LBmpcHVHbTc5EcqeqIklVkZ6g8hrM487wno4Xa-Z9rQl6p60T_vGXG18Z_txBfJTdr9dHCKzvDXdnUnvdDwVw7YzHyDe_M8G8CCLtAkvHy-inoi8-b4d2eTAY/s1600/IMG_20150710_141926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIuILf956NK6UxcRR42LBmpcHVHbTc5EcqeqIklVkZ6g8hrM487wno4Xa-Z9rQl6p60T_vGXG18Z_txBfJTdr9dHCKzvDXdnUnvdDwVw7YzHyDe_M8G8CCLtAkvHy-inoi8-b4d2eTAY/s320/IMG_20150710_141926.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The folds of the rolling hills, the dramatic suspension of the clouds...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxkCX_mPZYrDHa83CRf1d_J73iJItACGiBl-sBUFZcm3wMnA1ZfvCZjenVmEu8vCK1SoajPb-NGkpUpzSp_tTRlyZ4ehr79IkI_-vEyi-p6c1yTS7a1VRMiXaQ1A4PTEPG6QGpawbrQs/s1600/PANO_20150710_142006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcxkCX_mPZYrDHa83CRf1d_J73iJItACGiBl-sBUFZcm3wMnA1ZfvCZjenVmEu8vCK1SoajPb-NGkpUpzSp_tTRlyZ4ehr79IkI_-vEyi-p6c1yTS7a1VRMiXaQ1A4PTEPG6QGpawbrQs/s320/PANO_20150710_142006.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Panoramic view.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHAogZFGtcW5QgfyAzxSf6WzBxxJLf8UP0aDsWu-jugTvZY3OID5aMEmrLgHWvWlYZYYv3W9v-AXS-zeTQOL-5xMzIJaiw1JOCd6NE3RL0WS_x7ve0LphoAgTYjaqFpyYFAFdlXT_l8c/s1600/IMG_20150710_144540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHAogZFGtcW5QgfyAzxSf6WzBxxJLf8UP0aDsWu-jugTvZY3OID5aMEmrLgHWvWlYZYYv3W9v-AXS-zeTQOL-5xMzIJaiw1JOCd6NE3RL0WS_x7ve0LphoAgTYjaqFpyYFAFdlXT_l8c/s320/IMG_20150710_144540.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making our way through the curves and turns of Fern Gully.<br />
Yes, it's two-way traffic. #GotSkills?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLTnGSR4SX6Tmvb5TysJKHN8M5PWEs9GklTraAhSEbF9TTbuGoNwqIgs8e01G1710VNuy2VWH6WB_tiAxrbdxnzMeEkNcXj9_NNOXL99-GCcRZ5U9TFJ3vjqZiodBSLo2F1xFvGu6YW4o/s1600/IMG_20150710_144844.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLTnGSR4SX6Tmvb5TysJKHN8M5PWEs9GklTraAhSEbF9TTbuGoNwqIgs8e01G1710VNuy2VWH6WB_tiAxrbdxnzMeEkNcXj9_NNOXL99-GCcRZ5U9TFJ3vjqZiodBSLo2F1xFvGu6YW4o/s320/IMG_20150710_144844.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heads up! Fern Gully.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrR-4gzdb9eEq676PMUun4JoTm0X9jqo_0CPZw_tRuCtRlFzE_L0245JnNqEOrd7t16CTsowoii4jJ-sD-szUUfekY1ykHLB2_xp7vurHOy4SW652FWpFB65DdEoTZ1GuB6dX2sFffw8k/s1600/IMG_20150711_075145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrR-4gzdb9eEq676PMUun4JoTm0X9jqo_0CPZw_tRuCtRlFzE_L0245JnNqEOrd7t16CTsowoii4jJ-sD-szUUfekY1ykHLB2_xp7vurHOy4SW652FWpFB65DdEoTZ1GuB6dX2sFffw8k/s320/IMG_20150711_075145.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clean, clear, cool (I guess), and inviting.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXwQUjtwOnein621xjVJYoQre7xly7aENHOC_bIv57g3TfO4Yt3ejvmspsndHTDDShvau-qJ9qGXtKFTWCMMk8_Z9Jj7GEYYviLPNEnqCN3IdvOIy9Xqjn9vaswZb3K1bZRiJSe3zOkI/s1600/IMG_20150711_075223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXwQUjtwOnein621xjVJYoQre7xly7aENHOC_bIv57g3TfO4Yt3ejvmspsndHTDDShvau-qJ9qGXtKFTWCMMk8_Z9Jj7GEYYviLPNEnqCN3IdvOIy9Xqjn9vaswZb3K1bZRiJSe3zOkI/s320/IMG_20150711_075223.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As far as the eye can see...sea!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQaFrxwg-juLB_FBb4CIcYMON7KyyORRBUI9twl3spcVojfTlBNnbOmZEzU2FLo0orGmrgbY1WU-46waAiMd1HW11GsStnfuAeax1WkrM-XG8od1ISj4kGoax0r6e3UpzSWgcmQvFMyw/s1600/IMG_20150711_083033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQaFrxwg-juLB_FBb4CIcYMON7KyyORRBUI9twl3spcVojfTlBNnbOmZEzU2FLo0orGmrgbY1WU-46waAiMd1HW11GsStnfuAeax1WkrM-XG8od1ISj4kGoax0r6e3UpzSWgcmQvFMyw/s320/IMG_20150711_083033.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ackee and Saltfish (the national dish) with fried bammy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjid-CGDBqrnwDl8JGOfshvuW2pSVW17JZue2bcz9Tpia4zTn8rmn8LOJX9LvkSXRsiTCHr6egRcdgZV4duED8JC-N_N5WMG9ZlcFPmgTEetI-bYawKo9mFOVDppoGjDKqzcmOKcjMeKlo/s1600/IMG_20150711_092748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjid-CGDBqrnwDl8JGOfshvuW2pSVW17JZue2bcz9Tpia4zTn8rmn8LOJX9LvkSXRsiTCHr6egRcdgZV4duED8JC-N_N5WMG9ZlcFPmgTEetI-bYawKo9mFOVDppoGjDKqzcmOKcjMeKlo/s320/IMG_20150711_092748.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Polly did not want a cracker. Well, we didn't offer one. And, I don't know whether her name is really Polly.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-_snH-OWWvjXzJ1Ebi3zIQj7porM9zZo16qdCPhZbJI8V8MgaCpnPNA4NnCAlkJumkuVnu8NSjjgeUk7Tav6FkoJta7b9sNvH5hWyTdoRHhck3j6ESfjRLdBnSPEZupF7JCcBcuCtD4/s1600/IMG_20150715_095424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-_snH-OWWvjXzJ1Ebi3zIQj7porM9zZo16qdCPhZbJI8V8MgaCpnPNA4NnCAlkJumkuVnu8NSjjgeUk7Tav6FkoJta7b9sNvH5hWyTdoRHhck3j6ESfjRLdBnSPEZupF7JCcBcuCtD4/s320/IMG_20150715_095424.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The clouds were striking! Look! There's a cartoonish character chasing a small dog.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW7HtOSI14XGY9Ua93zdLT1zAgLaT_jwFWUEfq6mxC-9t8BcxY1AXOcaCwDIHlFtl7EC34t3Qxw-h-Eu7mEx48sbd477TNyyhpe4OBYe7pEgVJx-m4mTsOAd_2KuMYHhe4Lp132Pqdap4/s1600/IMG-20150712-WA0112%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW7HtOSI14XGY9Ua93zdLT1zAgLaT_jwFWUEfq6mxC-9t8BcxY1AXOcaCwDIHlFtl7EC34t3Qxw-h-Eu7mEx48sbd477TNyyhpe4OBYe7pEgVJx-m4mTsOAd_2KuMYHhe4Lp132Pqdap4/s400/IMG-20150712-WA0112%255B1%255D.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> #UnphotographableBeauty</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-9924828206969598402015-07-29T21:58:00.000-04:002015-07-30T11:47:04.876-04:00Travel: Would You Like Sighs With That?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Bag Drop. But, Not Really.</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I checked in for my flight on West Jet the evening before.
When I got to the Norman Manley International Airport (NMIA), I approached one
of the designated kiosks, thinking it would allow me to print baggage tags. It
didn't. It spat out a duplicate of the boarding pass I already had. No worries.
I moved on to the Bag Drop line. (Side note: About a year and a half or so
ago, the Bag Drop line didn't work. As in, sis and I had enquired - having
checked in prior - and were told that "everybody is in the same
line." That did not make sense to me. What, pray tell, was the point of a
designated Bag Drop line - with sign indicating that, btw - if those who'd
checked in before were made to stand with those who had not? I had asked then
and was told that it was on that airline's say so.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast forward to this most recent episode. I joined the Bag
Drop line for Kiosk/Web check-in at approximately 11:45 a.m. and stood behind
three parties. There were between 2 and 4 people in each party. One agent stood
at the counter made for two. The queue to my right was for those who had not
checked in prior. I watched as their snaking line moved steadily with new
people joining, checking in, getting baggage tagged, and leaving the counter,
while I waited for half an hour before being called up. When I approached the
counter at 12:15, I knew I had to ask. Hi and hello over, I tilted my head
forward to get a closer look at his name tag, "I have a question, <st1:city w:st="on">Wayne</st1:city>," I said.
(That's not his real name, btw. It's close enough.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Yes?" "You're an employee of West Jet,
correct?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Yes."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Okay. Could you help me understand why I just waited
half an hour in the Bag Drop line, when people were coming and going in the
check-in line?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Well, as you can see, I'm the only one at this
counter. Sorry about the wait."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Yes, I can see that. I don't think this is what West
Jet had in mind, though." I told him I'm gonna have to talk with them. I
mean, if they need to hire more people to uphold the quality of service many
have come to expect, so be it. Many Jamaicans are in need of jobs. There must
be a waiting list. In the meantime, it makes no sense to me to have passengers
stand in the Bag Drop line for longer than passengers checking in at the
counter. What's the point of encouraging passengers to check-in early? At
Toronto Pearson, the kisok had spat out baggage tags, and we had quickly gone
over to Bag Drop, joined a short queue, and were done in under five minutes.
Please do something about this service at NMIA, West Jet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>"Security!"</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still at NMIA. I went through without a beep. While waiting
for my stuff on the belt, I stepped to the side and softly said to the security
officer who had just waved me through, "May I ask you sopm?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Yes."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"The <a href="http://www.cyopro.blogspot.ca/2015/07/dear-travel-related-people-its-not.html" target="_blank">last time I came through here</a>, I didn't beep, but
I was pat down anyway. Why? I thought it was a standard thing, if you don't
beep, you don't get pat down."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She smiled. "Well, it depends. If, say, 50 people go
through and the machine doesn't go off, we check the next person. It depends on
the instructions we get for the day - every tenth person or after 50 and so on."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Oh, so it's company policy, not what makes sense...in
my head?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This time, she chuckled, "Yeah."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I told her thanks and moved on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>No Backtracking</b> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This term took on another meaning as we waited in line at
the gate. Passengers had cleared the distance between the agents who check for
boarding passes as you exit the food court, and the gate. I overheard a man ask
no one in particular, whether he could go back to get some food. Apparently, it
had just dawned on him that he might need more than the pretzels and/or cookies
to tide him over to <st1:city w:st="on">Toronto</st1:city>.
In the next breath, he asked someone whose uniform looked like a security
guard’s. The security guard told him no, he could not go back to the food court
– even though we were all the way toward the back of a very long line.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(And the hits just keep on comin’!)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had to ask. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I waited a few minutes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the security guard paced his way back down the line, I
stepped to the side and got his attention. I made out a part of the crest
adorning his dark blue uniform. Special Constable. Oops. My bad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Excuse me, I have a question.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Could I go back and get something from the f<st1:street w:st="on">ood court</st1:street>?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hmm, no. You can’t go back up there.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ummm, why not?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s the airport’s policy, a security thing.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Okay. Thanks.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I waited a few more minutes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I saw another man who was attired as an airport worker – I
figured. I stopped him as he walked toward my section of the line and asked
him. Because, you know, I wasn’t going anywhere for a while; I was
out of Snickers, and, sometimes, information isn’t consistent. I asked the same
thing. He told me he didn’t see why not.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I waited.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This time, I asked the West Jet employee who was checking
boarding passes. Yes, we were just about to board now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, not at this point.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I understand that. I meant earlier when we were all the way
back in the line.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mmm. Technically, you could, but it’s airport policy and a
matter of security. So, no. I mean, if you had to, someone would have to escort
you back.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, so in exigent circumstances, then.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Exactly!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I see. Thanks.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I proceeded to board.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A matter of security. Right. Now I know. And now you
know.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I…I just don’t know. Smh.</div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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Claudia</div>
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<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a></div>
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<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-25691136704341740822015-07-19T19:28:00.001-04:002015-07-19T19:31:55.434-04:00Dear Travel-related People, It's Not You...It's Me<br />
Making my way from Jamaica, as I approached the security checkpoint, I removed all items from my person that'd likely set off the alert. Holding my passport, I made my way through the arc. No beep. I started eyeing the belt that held my laptop and hand bag. Next thing I knew, the security officer was telling me to "step this way" and immediately proceeded to start patting me down. No heads-up. I protested. "The machine didn't go off!" I said. "We can still pat you down," she said. As her hands made their way over my body, it took every thing in me not to slap them away from me. I was incensed! I had done everything I was required to do to prevent such a thing from happening, and it happened anyway. As she continued to pat, involuntarily, I backed away. I have traveled many times by air. I have never been pat down by hand before. The one or two other times were by wand. I could not get away fast enough. If there's no beep, one is allowed to proceed, isn't one? Somehow, I was of the impression that that was a standard rule that applied at all airports. Not so at the Norman Manley International Airport. Apparently.<br />
<br />
Making my way from Toronto, as I approached the security checkpoint, I removed all items from my person that'd likely set off the alert. Holding my passport, I made my way through the arc. No beep. I started eyeing the belt that held my laptop and handbag. I approached the belt unhindered.<br />
"Is this your bag?" The security officer on the other side of the belt enquired.<br />
"Yes, it is," I replied, stiffening.<br />
"I'm gonna take a look at what's inside," she said, half to me and half to the other security woman seated at the x-ray machine.<br />
"Ok."<br />
She proceeded, with gloved hands, to shift items and remove items and walk back to the x-ray officer then back to the bag then back to the x-ray woman asking her something or the other about the pack of Clearasil face wipes she'd happily discovered. X-ray woman must've told her they were okay. She came back to the bag, and dug and searched.<br />
"What are you looking for?" I'd had enough.<br />
"...", as she proceeded to dig.<br />
"What are you looking for?" I asked again.<br />
"...", face down ignoring me.<br />
"Are you not obligated to respond?"<br />
"I'm just looking for something." She looked up, while digging.<br />
I shook my head and picked up my purse from the bag.<br />
"Ma'am, please calm down," she said.<br />
"I'm simply removing my purse with my very valuable items, ID and such," I replied.<br />
She proceeded to search for God He knows what. Just because she could. Apparently. A few seconds later, she was done.<br />
"Thank you for your patience," she said.<br />
It was better to remain silent, so I did. I retrieved my bag and left the area.<br />
<br />
Making my way to customs in Jamaica, I held my bag of left-over lunch and fruits (cherries). I had indicated on the customs form that I had fruits. The customs officer asked what they were. I told her. She said to "put them in the bin over there." On my way to <i>the</i> bin, I dropped the bag and stepped on it. Then, I put the bag in <i>the </i>bin. In under 5 seconds, she was about 6 inches from my face yelling and asking why I did that. I didn't flinch, nor was I offended by her animated and aggressive approach. I was dealing with Jamaica's customs officers and I expected no less - truth be told. In rapid succession, she asked why I did it. In rapid succession, I started to reply. Finally, as we were both not getting anywhere, I said, "If you will allow me to reply, I will let you know." She took a deep breath, held her hands together below her very pregnant tummy and said, "Okay, go ahead."<br />
"If the fruits aren't good enough to enter the country, then they simply aren't edible," I told her.<br />
By then, about three or four other customs officers had come around. One of them kept asking me the same thing. I told her the same thing. She asked again. I told her the same thing. Again. Not sure whether she was expecting me to tell her something else; something she wanted to hear. She called me rude. That was...telling. They took it as an affront. Apparently. I wonder why. (I don't, actually.)<br />
<br />
While paying the JMD$10,000 fine (I had stepped outside to get the funds from my dad. I had CAD funds, but the thought of changing them at the dismal exchange rate at the cambio right there, pained me. Side note: I later handed my dad the funds in repayment. He said to keep it. Bless his heart.) I heard one person in line at the cashier saying how he was charged for his laptop. A friend of his had bought him one on sale a month ago. The customs officers decided it was new. He paid JMD$6,000. As he shook his head in dismay, he ended his story, "Is alright. Next time mi know wha mi a go do." That was...telling.<br />
<br />
I paid the fine for breaching S.198(4) of the <i>Customs Act</i>. I had destroyed the item to prevent seizure by a customs officer or stte. The officer had originally written $5,000, but her supervisor said to change it to $10,000. I possess no qualms about facing the consequences of my actions. It's a personal philosophy. I realized...figured, rather, that if I proceeded to ask them to define <i>seizure </i>and <i>prevent </i>and <i>destroy</i>, I would likely have another $5,000 or $10,000 slapped on as a "mouthing off" charge. Because they could. Also, depending on the nature of the breach (I s'pose) one could be fined up to $100,000. (And the whole thing had already taken about 45 minutes. Because they could.) I let it be.<br />
<br />
Just before handing my passport back to me, the customs officer decided to explain the procedure for acquiring a permit to bring fruits into the country. I asked whether that would mean I would not be charged a fee if the inspecting officer decided the fruits were okay. She assured me that's what it meant. I quickly imagined that my definition of <i>okay </i>might very well differ. Plus, I'd only bother to go that route simply to test that theory. I said none of this. I did tell her that the rationale for the "breach" was something we disagreed on. I shrugged, closing the door to further conversation. My people had long been waiting outside. We said our goodbyes and I took my passport and left.<br />
<br />
It took several days but I finally put my finger on what really bothered me about that customs episode. Comments from friends and family with whom I cared to share it, telling me good on me because <i>seizure </i>usually resulted in them taking the items for themselves, didn't make me feel better. The certainty that others who hear it at some point will say I was mean, won't make me feel worse. The thing? It becomes a major challenge for me to accept going along with what is required, when what is required makes absolutely no sense to me. That was the button that pushed me. I eventually assured myself that everyone has their button. After all, I'm only human.<br />
<br />
"Human. It's been a while since anyone's called me that." - <i>Monk</i><br />
<br />
Between the impositions and intrusions and a host of things up with which I don't want to put during cross-border travel, I'm seriously considering staying put for a while. Canada is a big country. I should get out more and see more of it.<br />
<br />
(Oh, btw, this post was due on the 18th. Sorry. I...I was way too tired to write yesterday. Thanks for reading!)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a>Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-9094561614405276812015-07-08T22:58:00.002-04:002015-07-14T22:15:57.014-04:00Cover Story<br />
On a visit to Jamaica earlier this year, my parents and I went on a road trip, or, as we call them sometimes, a drive out. My dad loves to take us on those trips. They were a staple of our childhood, and are pretty much expected now when we visit Jamaica.<br />
<br />
This road trip took us to Manchester. I had made a special request for roast yam and saltfish. I knew exactly where we were headed - Melrose Hill. Or, as it is often called, Yam Hill. Actually, I think Melrose Hill is the name of the original road (the old road) where the vendors used to sell. It has been a long time since, but the vendors relocated to their current location on that section of the Winston Jones Highway after the highway was cut.<br />
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And, you know, this post isn't even about Yam Hill. Lol! See, before we stopped there on our way from Clarendon, we went all the way up the road to Mandeville. We conducted our business and quickly headed back toward Clarendon.<br />
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It was just after we passed the mud lake on Winston Jones Highway, that I saw a really beautiful sight. I thought it would make a really lovely picture. I immediately shoved my phone to the front of my dad's car - a gesture he's grown quite accustomed to - and snapped away from the back. He didn't question the gesture, he simply obliged. My mom, as usual, leaned a little to the left in her front passenger seat so I could get proper photos. (Just so you know, drive on the left in Jamaica, and the majority of vehicles are right hand drive.)<br />
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About five photos later, I figured I'd got what I wanted. At least two or three of them could be used. They didn't do the natural scenery justice - unphotographable beauty is a thing - but they would bring me pleasure on reviewing.<br />
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Fast forward a few weeks later. My publisher asked me to provide write-ups - along with book cover artwork - for the upcoming poetry book, <i><a href="http://cyopro.blogspot.com/2015/05/happy-dance-in-my-head.html" target="_blank">Fourteen To Fortyish</a></i>. I did. I submitted my best rendition of one of the images, complete with overlaying text and all. I knew we would have a bit of back n forth, but I still wanted to have a very good springboard.<br />
<br />
Well, during those exchanges, I reached out to family to hear how the cover spoke to them. I even learned the term "dichromatic" from one of my sis, Lat, an artist. The final rendition shows a dramatic and fitting transition that captures the essence of <i>the </i>journey. I'm very pleased with the cover now.<br />
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I've shared a section of the cover on other SM platforms - Twitter and Instagam. Here, though, in my little space in cyberspace, I'm sharing the full cover. It's a good time to tell you, dear reader, that I am also working on making my website, <a href="http://cyopro.com/">cyopro.com</a>, into a <i>real</i> website. :-) These blog posts will be moving over to my "home in cyberspace" - if you will. Or, even if you don't, actually. :-) Those baby steps? Yeeahh. #LeapAndAnnetteWillAppear. :-) I've learned so much in the past several days about what is required to make this happen. I bought a WordPress theme template, and switched hosting services. Gonna be bonding with the new site over the next little while. Please bear with me. It is a work in progress - a work in progress that has to be finished before my book gets published in September 2015. No pressure!<br />
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(((Drum Roll)))<br />
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Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/" target="_blank">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-35311681054145049792015-06-28T22:58:00.000-04:002015-07-02T15:31:59.570-04:00One Judge. I Am Not Him.<br />
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God has a sense of humour. Some things you don't see coming.
He does. When they appear, well, between the both of us, <i>we got this</i>. Nothing
is of a surprise to Him. His Word says, "The thing that hath been, it is
that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and
there is no new thing under the sun. (Ecclesiates 1:9) (I like the poetry of
the KJV.) As a matter of fact, another verse says, "That which hath been
is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which
is past. (Ecc. 3:15) </div>
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I am Christian. I believe in Jesus, and daily seek to maintain a close relationship with Him. I believe the Bible
is the word of God. To get to it, in the last week, <a href="http://www.thestar.com/news/world/2015/06/26/us-supreme-court-legalizes-same-sex-marriage-nationwide.html" target="_blank">much happened regarding gay rights in the USA</a>. (Same-sex marriage has been legal in Canada since July 2005.) As a Christian, when I utter my thoughts on this sensitive topic, I fully expect
to be derided and ridiculed and accused of being homophobic and being a Bible
Thumper and and and... It's the way it is. True, there are Christians who go
about expressing condemnation of members of the LGBT community. They spew
vitriol squarely directed at them at every opportunity. So, Christians who are
more mild in airing their views are lumped in with that batch. </div>
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But, no matter how mild the approach, the Christian with a
point of view borne out of their belief is often not... (what's the word? Allowed?) ..."allowed" to express his/her dissenting view. I don't get it. I'm Christian, and I believe
homosexuality is a sin. Should I acquiesce and go with someone else's view just because I don't wish to offend them? That is
ridiculous. I have relatives who are gay. By the time I found out, well, I had already loved them to pieces. No judgment. I believe we will someday all answer
to one God for the time we spent here. Meantime, my duty is to love and shine, including when I join the
conversation on controversial topics. I have made a choice to believe what I
believe. Look around. The world is a mess. It takes more than wealth and
popularity to attain that which is most precious in such a time as this - peace
of mind. </div>
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Earlier, I referred to the Bible. If someone does not
believe the Bible to be the Word of God, it is pointless to quote from it as an
authority in support of the point being made. Enter grace, through faith - and
time. We live. We believe. We live
according to our belief. Philip Yancey - atheist turned Christian - wrote in his
book, <i>The Jesus I Never Knew</i>: "God's
terrible insistence on human freedom is so absolute that He granted us the
power to live as though He did not exist, to spit in His face, to crucify Him. Although power can force obedience, only love can
summon a response of love, which is the one thing God wants from us and the
reason He created us."<br />
<br />
So, people are free to do whatever with whomever. I don't bash friends who don't share my faith, for example. Love them and leave them to Jesus and time. I believe He can and does make a wonderful difference in
people's lives. People make the difficult decision to "come out of the closet". No judgment. And, it's not because the skeletons in my closet have skeletons in
their closets. It is because I am not <i>the</i> JUDGE. I cannot be presumptuous to
think I can judge and mete out sentences to whomever I think is not living
according to God's word. Especially when I am a daily beneficiary of His
amazing grace.</div>
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It seems, though, no matter how many times as a Christian
you say and demonstrate love and kindness even as you disagree with "the
masses", you will be ridiculed, vilified, etc. Not everyone will share my
views. I get that. Still, one word in dissent, and many immediately go for the
jugular. Yet, they are the same ones exercising their right to speak their
views freely. I don't get <i>that</i>. </div>
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You know what's not funny? We can be angered and get freaked out by the news that a three
year-old girl has been raped by a 30 year-old man. Why? Because something
inside our make up says it is wrong. There is still wrong and right in the
world. It's not always black and white, but it exists. It is not, as much as we
would like to think, a case of anything goes. Consensus doesn't mean right. Humans are
fickle beings. What is right today is not necessarily right tomorrow. But, God's
word and standards do not change. </div>
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In today's " Look at me!" world, it is not
surprising that some compromise on their beliefs for the sake of popularity;
for adulation; for likes and favs and retweets. <i>"Do you, boo!"</i> But, as a person who
seeks to abide in Christ, my choices do not often
coincide with the world's. And that is to be expected. I don't think my final
words on my deathbed will be, "Oh, I wish I had been more popular on
Social Media." Nope. The Christian journey is not an easy one and every day
is a struggle, but I try to keep the proper perspective and focus on what
really matters. The Holy Spirit does not leave me alone.</div>
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Speaking of expectations, what also seems to be expected is
that folks like myself should go sit in a corner somewhere because we have a
dissenting view - no matter how much in love we express it. Yeah. About that.
We have been commissioned to share the good news of Jesus Christ. And, we will and do have
a belief out of which we speak. I think it was the ancient Greek philosopher,
Epictetus, who said, "All religions must be tolerated...for every man must
get to heaven in his own way." *raises hand* Umm, about that "in his
own way" part? No. The Word I live by quotes Jesus as saying He is the
Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father but by Him. Hmm. Not
only do we want to live however we want, we also want the assurance that it's
okay. And, some of our spiritual leaders, sadly, have given in to this. For
myriad reasons, I suppose - the desire not to offend; not to step on anyone's
toes; not to lose popularity, etc. The unadulterated word of God can be
hard-hitting. Nobody is perfect and has it all together in this walk. Enter,
grace. </div>
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Sigh. The criticisms for expressing particular - and particularly
dissenting - positions will come. </div>
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<i>We got this. </i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />
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Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a></div>
Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-10958675413234961042015-06-18T23:48:00.000-04:002015-06-19T12:01:03.146-04:00A Book of Any Length...<div class="MsoNormal">
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Not too long ago, I came across someone on Twitter whose bio
said he'd written scores of books. Given how challenging it is to realize even
that first book most of us have inside, it left me wondering just how lengthy,
and of what quality, those books were. How is it some people make writing
look so easy? You know what they say, right? Every writer soon learns that a
book that's easy to read is hard to write. (Or something like that.)</div>
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As I make way for hundreds of writers in my Twitter space,
I've begun to pick up on a few things. One of them is this: A very short how-to
book that has been published solely for an e-reader platform is still
considered a book. Got an eBook of 12 pages? It's still a book. And it's been
published. So, the author can (and does) claim to be a published author. Write
a few scores of those kinds and you can in fact claim to have written scores of
books! </div>
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Here's the thing: In years past, I probably would not have
claimed very short (adult) books as <i>books </i>per se. I'd have probably
called works of that length short stories or viewpoints or something, then
compile them for a far lengthier work for which I could more worthily claim the
title of author. But that way of thinking is what would've been left over from
a programmed perception, if you will.</div>
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Fast forward. I've been thinking of a few short
pieces. Enter eBook ideas. The following is part of one of these yet
unfinished pieces. Perhaps I could embark on a series of eBooks in which I
share something along these lines - and what can't be read between the
lines. I've always thought of developing (or publishing "as is") some
of these blog posts. I shall ponder this in my heart. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<i>There have been times
when I held on for too long after I should have let go, second guessing my gut
and wondering whether my impatience had yet again overridden longsuffering. I
don't let go until the ugly is undeniable and irrefutable. A big step up from
cutting them off at the first sign of betrayal of trust. But, a long way down
from what is sensible. Then, I let go. I take myself away. The words go first.
I follow on their heels. A moment to embrace my new normal is necessary. Given
the signs, the cleaning and cleansing had begun - bit by bit. After letting go,
I breathe; I hold myself; I assure myself I need this time, this moment, to
just be still. And I declutter, starting in my mind. I am strong. I find
comfort in knowing I am not worse for the wear. I sowed good seeds. And, I was
sincere.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Claudia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a></div>
Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-78857771495941501692015-06-08T22:58:00.000-04:002015-06-08T22:59:53.030-04:00Turning Point<br />
A couple of years ago, <i>Dove </i>came out with an ad to encourage women and girls to accept themselves as beautiful. The ad, dubbed <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4HiRSJ3Hrmg" target="_blank">Camera Shy</a>, made me smile. It also made me think. Good on <i>Dove</i>, for I imagine that that's part of what they were after. It becomes rather revealing when we stop and think about whether as adults we are now camera shy, and what led us to that point.<br />
<br />
If we are, there may be several reasons for it. The least of them might not be a matter of privacy. There may be a legitimate concern about how an innocent and candid photo may end up being used on the Internet. Apart from that, however, may be the more grueling issue of our perception of our natural beauty, whether it is...enough at any given time. And, if it isn't, when did we start thinking so? And, can we go back?<br />
<br />
But, this post is not about that - per se.<br />
<br />
Something came to mind other day. Remember that line in <i>Mr. Monk and the Very, Very Old Man</i>, when Stottlemeyer was asked why he hadn't done something or other? His response was stteo, "I'd hurt his feelings... That's my new full-time job - not hurting people's feelings." It's one of those lines that stuck with me because it's indicative of that shift between worlds. There is a turning point between the childlike (and often entertaining) innocence that produces frank, unfiltered responses, and the caution we employ as we get more emotionally aware and considerate of people's feelings. It happens. We learn it from family, or the other social structures to which we become exposed as we grow. Yeah, it happens. And, little by little, we begin to apply filters and cushions and, in no time, we become very adept at not saying what we really mean.<br />
<br />
I believe most adults do not enjoy that luxury I love to refer to in a favourite C.S. Lewis quote: <i>"Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what you really mean; that's the whole art and joy of words."</i><br />
<br />
It does sound oh-so-good on its own, doesn't it? The larger piece from which I grabbed it not only provides context, but answers, on point, the reason we often remain in our new-found comfort zone, having made the transition between worlds; the reason it's hard to go back.<br />
<br />
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<i>“Lightly men talk of saying what they mean. Often when he
was teaching me to write in Greek the Fox would say, “Child, to say the very
thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less or other than what
you really mean; that’s the whole art and joy of words.” A glib saying. When
the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech
which has lain at the centre of your soul for years, which you have, all that
time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you’ll not talk about joy of
words.” </i></div>
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- C.S. Lewis, <i>Till We Have Faces</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Claudia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a></div>
Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-74055680873932953182015-05-28T22:18:00.000-04:002015-05-29T09:42:42.981-04:00Consent Implied <br />
I was on the GO train the other day when a young woman embarked. She sat diaginally across from me in one of those double row seats. She appeared to be a student. Beside her, and straight across from me, sat another young woman - older, professional, complete in business suit and all. This was in the still chilly March weather.<br />
<br />
To my left, and in the corner, sat a gentleman. He might've been in his late twenties, early thirties. Bear with me. I'm going somewhere with this.<br />
<br />
Shortly after we left Union station, the student and the gentleman struck up a quiet conversation. After all, we were seated in the Quiet Zone. It may have been about...ah! Yes. It was about his watch. There was something she found remarkable about it.<br />
<br />
Shortly after that, she took her drawing pad and a pencil from her bag. And, she started drawing. I made a polite glance and realized she was drawing a caricature of the man. I cast a furtive glance in his general direction to catch any expression of surprise I could. Nada. Either he was blissfully unaware that his "likeness" was being reproduced, or, he was aware and didn't mind. Or, he did mind but chose not to be confrontational. Or some like thought.<br />
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She continued drawing, rather fast, I might add. She really got that talent down pat. While she did, the young woman next to her reached for her smartphone, then held it up at an angle to direct the lens toward the notepad. Yes. She was unabashedly taking a few photos of the artwork in progress.<br />
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By this time, the guy being drawn was clearly in the know about the representation of his image. I'd caught him looking at the notepad. He'd said nothing. I wouldn't go as far as to say he seemed flattered. That'd be a romantic unfounded notion. But, at the least, he did appear a bit amused and totally, as in totally, not bothered.<br />
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The younger girl continued her drawing. She too didn't seem to care at all that her work was being photographed by a total stranger - in such proximity!<br />
<br />
It was like an unspoken agreement among them.<br />
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Of course, when she wrapped that up and started in a new page and glanced a couple of times in my direction, I had to ask, "Are you drawing me now?"<br />
"No," she answered with a smile.<br />
The young woman and the man smiled, too. But, I needed to add, and so I did, "Okay, 'cause I'd have to, y'know, change seats," I said with a feint smile of the pursed "so-there's-that" lips kind. They did a mix of polite smile and chuckle.<br />
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At the next stop, our little community disbanded and life went on.<br />
<br />
So, we are here. Total strangers all up in total strangers' faces like that. Someone who's performing pretty much expects the smartphones to come out. But, here was a guy, going about his business and voíla! There'd been no request for permission to draw him. There'd been no request for permission to take a photo of the drawing. The characters in this true story simply did as they pleased, as though based on the assumption that the man was worth drawing, or the drawing was worth snapping, consent was implied.<br />
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A few weeks after that episode, I spotted a tweet re an article about a young woman who'd had a kind of altered rendition of her <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/style-blog/wp/2015/05/25/a-reminder-that-your-instagram-photos-arent-really-yours-someone-else-can-sell-them-for-90000/" target="_blank">Instagram pic put on show</a>. The blown-up photo was said to be sold for about $90,000. Just. Like. That.<br />
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I've said before that, these days, once you leave your house - or anyone else's house for that matter - be prepared to be caught up in someone else's video or photo. (Alas, you may be photo bombing and not know it.) It's as though your decision to be out and about in public means your consent to be caught on camera is implied.<br />
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I read an article recently about a (perhaps little-known) by-law in Toronto that forbids the taking of photos in parks. And I've visited at least one library that forbids the taking of photos within its walls - no matter how cute you think your niece and her playmates are, standing beside the giant stuffed gorilla. Just sayin'.<br />
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Well, you have to leave the house at some point. Correct? Whatyagonnado. Take comfort in the fact that most people couldn't care less about the people who happen to be caught in the background of their pics. Really.<br />
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You can leave the house now.<br />
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Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
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<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-90240259389423598912015-05-18T22:58:00.000-04:002015-05-20T10:40:05.025-04:00The Sound and the Fury: Fireworks!!!<br />
For years, sis (<a href="http://www.twitter.com/mizdurie" target="_blank">@MizDurie</a>), has been inviting me to behold the spectacle that is the Toronto fireworks show at Ashbridge's Bay. Years. This year she tried again. This year, I agreed. I decided to see what the fuss was about.<br />
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I get it now.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Credit for all photos: <a href="https://twitter.com/MizDurie" target="_blank">@MizDurie</a></td></tr>
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Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
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<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-55889227549180030002015-05-08T23:48:00.000-04:002015-05-08T23:48:00.612-04:00Happy Dance In My Head<br />
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On the last day of April - which was a fantastic month, by the way - I was travelling home on the GO Train. I was seated in one of the upper level cars, in one of those rows that face another. On rush hour trains, the upper cars are designated Quiet Zone areas - short and quiet conversations are okay; passengers may plug in to their personal devices, as long as they don't disturb others, etc. </div>
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It was a little after 4:30...okay, it was 4:36. I had checked, just as the thought crossed my mind to ask a favour of the woman seated across from me. She had been reading <i>The Cruellest Month</i> - a rather thick novel. I figured if she is a reader, then she could be relied upon to give valuable feedback on a totally new piece. Before I gave myself a chance to talk myself out of it (that sounds funny), I spoke up. I had read in Blake Snyder's <i>Save The Cat</i> that it's a good idea to ask someone at, say, a coffee shop, to look at you work or draft or idea. I totally get that. I imagine you'd likely get great feedback from a total stranger with no hangups about hurting the feelings of someone they'll probably never lay eyes on again. And, if they do, they'll probably change coffee shops. Or, you could change coffee shops. Okay! It's not about coffee shops.</div>
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So, as I was saying, before I interrupted myself, I spoke up. </div>
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Me: Excuse me. I've never done this before.
I'm writing an introduction to my anthology of poems. Would you mind reading it
and letting me know what you think? </div>
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She: Yes, of course. </div>
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I handed her my phone.
She bookmarked her page, then looked me in the eye, "I'd be happy to read it."</div>
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Me: Thank
you!</div>
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I was positively beaming! I did my happy dance in my head! Heh heh.</div>
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When she was finished, she leaned toward me and I followed cue and leaned toward her. We were, after all, in the Quiet Zone. </div>
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She: It's very real. It's very personal, and it's moving. It should go well with the poems as that's what they're about. It needs a bit of editing, but it's really good. </div>
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Me: Thanks so much. Could you
tell me where needs editing? </div>
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She: That part where you talk about the relationship?
His pillow? Is it a real person or someone you're imagining? The reader needs
to be clear on that. Hopefully, that gives you enough to go on? </div>
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Me: Yes! Thank
you!</div>
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I'm glad I'd plucked up the courage to do it. I got good feedback. She was right, of course. I knew the context I had had in mind when I wrote that section, but the reader would need more information to make sense of it. </div>
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Can I tell you? That was a wonderful way to end April 2015! I had won the poetry competition at the Lit Café, and @CBCBooks had held a lil #CBCRhymes competition on Twitter one day - and I was one of two (or three) winners! I received a few poetry books as my prize. They came just in time, too. A few days earlier, my publisher had asked me to send the write-ups - acknowledgements, author bio, and so on - for my <a href="http://cyopro.blogspot.ca/2015/02/and-theyre-off.html" target="_blank">upcoming poetry book</a>. I had decided on a cover, too. When I got those books in the mail, the first thing I did was pay attention to the covers; how the titles were written; whether the font sizes were too big, etc. And, yes, I will be reading them. :-)</div>
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<i>Fourteen to Fortyish: The Formative Years</i> is now in the production process. </div>
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Again, #HappyDanceInMyHead! </div>
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Claudia</div>
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<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a></div>
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Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-21953244570851160122015-04-28T23:38:00.000-04:002015-04-28T23:43:02.176-04:00Not-so-great Expectations<br />
More often than not, whenever I open the new post page to the blank screen, I tell myself I won't be long. Next thing I know, I'm hitting 600+ words. Tonight, however, I won't be long. I think.<br />
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I've been thinking about this blog and where it's headed. I really like the fact that I've carved out a little space in cyberspace and write whatever I want to. However, my first book of poetry (there's at least one other poetry book inside me) is being published - <i><a href="http://cyopro.blogspot.ca/2014/09/fourteen-to-fortyish-formative-years.html" target="_blank">Fourteen to Fortyish: The Formative Years</a></i>. I'm excited and humbled and thankful...all up in my feels, really. I am also a tad concerned that, as a published poet, my lil blog will be expected to feature more writing about poetry, the writing process, and the like. And, that's not one of the feels. Okay. Lemme stop speaking in SoMe language for a second.<br />
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The idea that I may be expected to write more about my work as a poet is a tad unappealing. I relish the luxury I now have - writing about a variety of subject matter. My posts range from dogs to Desiderata; Buju to BlackBerry; writing to World Cup.... You catch my drift. I am a real person, and I find many things in life interesting - even up to a point, at a certain point - and like to write about them.<br />
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So, I dunno. I'm thinking the writing/poetry posts will come - the words will force themselves into my psyche - and I will have no choice but to write them. For, whenever I do write about writing and poetry and creative processes, it's because I simply must. I am just a bit wary that I might have to sacrifice subject range on the altar of brand development.<br />
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That mightn't be a bad thing. Still, new visitors to my blog will, hopefully, come to understand that writing and poetry, and writing about writing and poetry, are just part of the whole. And, while they're at it, that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.<br />
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All being well, my book will be out in September 2015. Would you look at that? "My book." :-) Thank You, God. At this stage, I'm writing those important sections for inclusion. Y'know? Acknowledgements, intro, bio, and everything like such as... :-)<br />
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Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
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<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-53136420652574187002015-04-18T22:58:00.000-04:002015-04-19T09:44:28.171-04:00Sydney's Home!<br />
We brought my new puppy, Sydney, home today. <i>We</i>, because, although I'm her primary caregiver, she already pretty much belongs to everyone in the family. Yeah, it's like that.<br />
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Durie, Kiki and Koko (sis, lil niece and lil nephew) made the road trip to the Kitchener-Waterloo area with me today. It was a joy to finally hold her, knowing she's mine - technically, and yes, I want to be technical - and to share her with the others, too. She's been introduced to all the family via Skype or phone! They think she's a sweetie. :-)<br />
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So far, she is adjusting quite nicely. She's used her "pee pad" a few times already, and she knows her way to her food and water. Good girl.<br />
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I imagine the first night will be a tad rough for her, but she's already proven she's a real trooper.<br />
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Also, you should see her strut her stuff like she's a top contender at Crufts! Lol! Never mind that she's a Pekepoo - Pekingese/Toy Poodle mix. She doesn't know it - and she doesn't care. Clearly.<br />
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I'm thankful for her. She is already loved.<br />
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Also, also...pics!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWODpF1dg-3M3fBlduoAKlJzvCZOJ_PJlMPz_6D31Xjvt_r2tO6qnyB-EcMMXSFxs7buPbzdQM2DRTkqH5o-Z747HWrY2EVbB2k5FiDpnUVHw9yQdI0JhBAVeSvwYx8srQKpG-cTbPCA/s1600/IMG_20150418_182356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEWODpF1dg-3M3fBlduoAKlJzvCZOJ_PJlMPz_6D31Xjvt_r2tO6qnyB-EcMMXSFxs7buPbzdQM2DRTkqH5o-Z747HWrY2EVbB2k5FiDpnUVHw9yQdI0JhBAVeSvwYx8srQKpG-cTbPCA/s1600/IMG_20150418_182356.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It took a while, but I finally got her to stand still enough for a close-up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI33-cVE-XJO0c5iyocBS3k5tYiHBQv-sPNb3GNfM6VA5ATlDbxpjEUMApWe1W6RCDXD5_BLN7Iz_Ik5609yzRPJvG9g94rl_p2sla-IbTmKdyMR2uETy1kNczxkckHz2OFQnP7TpPWoQ/s1600/IMG_20150418_172337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI33-cVE-XJO0c5iyocBS3k5tYiHBQv-sPNb3GNfM6VA5ATlDbxpjEUMApWe1W6RCDXD5_BLN7Iz_Ik5609yzRPJvG9g94rl_p2sla-IbTmKdyMR2uETy1kNczxkckHz2OFQnP7TpPWoQ/s1600/IMG_20150418_172337.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This didn't take as long. She knows where to find her food and water.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdhyphenhyphentakWkZ6QkjRBVdpgCasVjXMsvTypGn_wcKGaxxrz_U1crIe0LSme8iEHbKgIxL7IqkdFPX4n_3pbzsdYtsUyS7OjbdKigWVJoJKNmwSVZhfwLvzZ56efVCjN0QgNXGx3k2Tn_gtE/s1600/IMG_20150418_183420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdhyphenhyphentakWkZ6QkjRBVdpgCasVjXMsvTypGn_wcKGaxxrz_U1crIe0LSme8iEHbKgIxL7IqkdFPX4n_3pbzsdYtsUyS7OjbdKigWVJoJKNmwSVZhfwLvzZ56efVCjN0QgNXGx3k2Tn_gtE/s1600/IMG_20150418_183420.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup. She's a snuggler.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Why Sydney? I named her after my favourite TV action character, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsQzNuGAST8&list=PLE8EA0E70CDC1176F&index=4" target="_blank">Sydney Bristow in ALIAS</a>. She was a brilliant CIA agent; a tough kickboxer, and a beautiful, kind-hearted person. Yes, I have the DVDs - in the Rambaldi Box!<br />
<br />
<br />
Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
<br />
<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-8523135961581023422015-04-08T23:08:00.000-04:002015-04-30T22:47:21.383-04:00"Epiphany"<br />
April is usually celebrated as poetry month. It's in light of this that the Oakville Lit Café holds a poetry competition each April. I think this is the first time (since I started attending) I'll be in town for it. (I'm usually on vacation to celebrate my birthday.) So, I submitted my entry the other day. The entries will be judged by a panel - not the audience. Also, the poems should include three of the judges' given words - all starting with the letter 'E'. Out of the list of about 10 or so, I chose: epiphany, evanescent, and ethereal.<br />
<br />
It'd be nice to win.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>EPIPHANY</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I hear the distance I travel</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I feel the distance I fear</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Spanning the height </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Between ground and endless sky</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My feet are off the ground</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And I am high.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This is neither flying</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Nor soaring. An epiphany.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm being transported into</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A vast nothingness</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Losing all sense of context</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And motion and time and space</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I feel the distance increasing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I go up, up, and away.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hands over ears</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I melt inside</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
No tears</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Can't cry if I can't feel</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now, can I?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Am I there yet?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
No, higher yet.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Soon, I morph into a shadow</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Of my former self</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Looming evanescent</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Still.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Nothing happens.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Suddenly</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My thoughts are crystal clear.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This moving, my doing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This distance, my desire.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Is my fear of heights weaker </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Than my fear of loving you?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Than I fear being loved by you?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I was prepared to die flying</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Than I was to die trying</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
At something new with you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Something ethereal, yet true.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I don't have a fear of heights</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I have a fear of falling</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I have a fear of loving</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And falling into you.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Update 2015-04-30: I won! :-)</span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
Claudia</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a></div>
Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-90158014902301079692015-03-28T20:28:00.001-04:002015-03-28T20:29:34.681-04:00"You Learn"<br />
Lemme just squeeze in a short poem of mine, as a prelude to a well-known poem. Okay, I think it's well-known. And not just by many, but by heart. Someone introduced me to it when I was in my late teens. At the time, it was attributed to good ol' <i>Anonymous</i>. Enter, Google. The writer was Veronica Shoffstall - or so I thought. The Keepers of the Knowledge of Rightful Attributions - okay, that's not a thing, but it should be - came to the defence of Jorge Luis Borges, an Argentinian writer, pointing out that his was the beautiful soul that had penned those poignant words. It reminds me of Marianne Williamson's "Our deepest fear..." constantly being attributed to Nelson Mandela. But, I digress. The jury should be back by now on "You Learn". (It's sometimes referred to as <i>After A While</i>.) It's the Internet, who knows? What I <i>am </i>sure of is the high degree of relatabilty that burns within the poem. Well, "high degree of relatability" for some. For others, I think you'll appreciate it, nonetheless.<br />
<br />
*squeezes in*<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>All In My Head</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Fool me once - shame on you</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Fool me twice - shame on me</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Fool me thrice - I must like it when you "fool" me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>For a fourth time? I have been fooling myself.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It was all in my head.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now, over to you, Jorges. (Yes. <a href="http://www.rebellesociety.com/2012/09/15/poetry-lounge-after-a-while-you-learn/" target="_blank">#TeamJorges</a>.)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>You Learn</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>After a while you learn the subtle difference</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>And company doesn't mean security.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And presents aren't promises,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And you begin to accept your defeats</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>With your head up and your eyes open</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>And you learn to build all your roads on today</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>After a while you learn…</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>That even sunshine burns if you get too much.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>And you learn that you really can endure…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>That you really are strong</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>And you really do have worth…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>And you learn and learn…</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>With every good-bye you learn.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
- Jorges Luis Borges</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
<br />
<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-58031520857924163722015-03-18T21:08:00.002-04:002015-03-19T10:28:29.218-04:00When Dogs Fly: Part Deux<br />
I'm reporting cessation of Operation Puppy Immigration.<br />
<br />
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2699">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In my previous post, <a href="http://cyopro.blogspot.ca/2015/03/when-dogs-fly.html" target="_blank">When Dogs Fly</a>, I mentioned I had submitted an online query on CAL's site for CAL Kingston, and I'd got some quick responses. Gonna get into the exchange a bit more and share the responses. You know? <i>Just in cases.</i></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2699">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2699">
You'll also see why I've had a change of heart and mind re getting a pup from Jamaica to Canada.</div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2699">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2699">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">About two hours after submitting the query, I heard from Laura. She requested some more information. I gave her guesstimates. And, as I </span>wasn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> sure at the time whether they transported pups younger than 12 weeks, I covered both possibilities – in case I had to wait until she got older:</span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2699">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2698" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2697"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Kennel for 9-week old puppy approx: 15" (L) x 10" (W) x 12" (H) </i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2696" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2695"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Kennel weight approx: 15 pounds</i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2694" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2693"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Puppy weight approx: 15 pounds</i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2692" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2691" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2690"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Kennel for 5-month old puppy approx: 36" (L) x 25" (W) x 27" (H) </i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2689" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2688"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Kennel weight approx: 20 pounds</i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2687" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2686"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Puppy weight approx: 30 pounds</i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2685">
</div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2684">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Laura replied about an hour after.</span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2684">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2683" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2682"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Based on these weights the dogs will have be sent via our cargo service. Please see freight cost below:</i></span></span><br />
<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_5114" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_5116" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700;"><i>9 week old puppy at 14kgs actual / 5kgs dimensional</i></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_5212" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Freight charge USD $7.68 x 14kgs 140.00 (minimum)</i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_5213" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2726"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Fuel Surcharge USD $0.41 x 14kgs 25.00 (minimum)</i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_5117" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2727"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Security Surcharge USD $0.07 x 14kgs 10.00</i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2681" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2680"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Airway Bill Fee USD $9.00 9.00</i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_5215" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_5214" style="font-weight: 700;"><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2729"><u class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2728">Total Charge 184.00</u></span></span><span class="yiv2180435576"><u class="yiv2180435576"></u></span></i></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2730" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_5119" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700;"><i>5 month old puppy at 23kgs actual / 66kgs dimensional</i></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: inherit;">Freight Charge USD $7.68 x 66kgs 506.88</i></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2734"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Fuel Surcharge USD $0.41 x 23kgs 25.00 (minimum)</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2735"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Security Surcharge USD $0.07 x 66kgs 10.00 (minimum)</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2736"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Airway Bill Fee USD $9.00 9.00</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2739" style="font-weight: 700;"><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2738"><u class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2737"><i>Total Charge 550.88</i></u></span></span><span class="yiv2180435576"><u class="yiv2180435576"></u></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Our flight to Toronto operates three times weekly which are Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2740"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Our flight departs at 8:30am and arrives at 12:45pm</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2656"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>All shipment must be booked at least three(3) days prior to actual departure date.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_5195"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I had just a few more questions. Last set. Honest.</span></span></div>
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<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2658" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2745"><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2744"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>So, would we have to visit your office and book in person, or could that be done by phone? </i></span></span></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1426722278803_3002" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1426722278803_3001"><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1426722278803_3000"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>It is a non-stop flight. So, she would arrive at 12:45 and we proceed to clear her through customs, etc., on that day. Right?</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>And, I take it CAL Cargo in Kingston would provide us with all details on where to go to collect her when the flight gets in; where to pay landing, processing and handling fees (I called CAL cargo in Mississauga this morning and they told me about those fees), and Canada Border Services Agency, etc.? </i></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" style="line-height: 15.3333320617676px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2662">
<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.3333320617676px;">I sent that in the late </span></span><span style="line-height: 15.3333320617676px;">afternoon</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 15.3333320617676px;">. She replied early the next day.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" style="line-height: 15.3333320617676px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: inherit;">Yes. Our flight is a non-stop into Toronto.</i></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2664"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>All paper and customs process will have to done the day before departure.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_3978">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2667" style="font-weight: 700;"><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2666"><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2665" lang="EN-JM">Documents required for shipping</span></span></span><span class="yiv2180435576"><span class="yiv2180435576"></span></span></i></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_3976">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2669"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The dog will have to be fully vaccinated by a private vet. You will receive a letter to take to the government vet and from there you have to obtain an export licence from Trade. Also, you will be required to obtain an import permit from country of destination before the dog can be shipped.</i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2672">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2671"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(Note: I recall the person I spoke with at Canada Food Inspection Agency saying Canada does not require an import permit. More on <a href="http://www.inspection.gc.ca/animals/terrestrial-animals/imports/policies/live-animals/pets/dogs/eng/1331876172009/1331876307796" target="_blank">Canada's import requirements here</a>.)</span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_3974">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2675"><span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2674"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i> <span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2673" style="font-weight: 700;">The Procedure to Air Freight Shipment is as follows:</span></i></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2677"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i> 1. The dog should be place into a kennel that he be able to move around freely.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426712036123_2679"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i> 2. You are required to complete three (3) sets of forms which are Instructions for Dispatch of Goods, Tally Sheet and Customs C87, which can be purchased for JMD$100.00</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i> 3. You will then take these forms over to the Customs Manifesting Branch, where they will be processed at a cost of JMD $3005.00. You will then return to our warehouse where your documents will be reviewed for acceptance of your shipment.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i> 4. Your shipment will then be accepted and weighed. All shipment must be booked as least three (3) days prior to scheduled departure and must be delivered to our warehouse the day before departure.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_3994">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span class="yiv2180435576" style="font-weight: 700;"><span class="yiv2180435576">Note:</span></span><span class="yiv2180435576"><span class="yiv2180435576"><span class="yiv2180435576"> </span></span></span><span class="yiv2180435576">You will need to have with you a valid ID (Driver's Licence, Passport or National ID) and your TRN.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="yiv2180435576"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yiv2180435576yui_3_16_0_1_1426710066417_3995">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1426722278803_3009"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>In order to give the cost to ship the dog, we are going to need the weight of the dog inside the kennel as well as the dimensions of the kennel.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Our Handling Company in Toronto info is as follows:</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Contact Person: Emile Lazarus</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Swissport Cargo Services</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Vista Cargo Center, Core G</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Silver Dart Drive,</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Mississauga Ontario L5P 1B1</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Tel #: 905-673-2468</i></span></span></div>
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<div class="yiv2180435576" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1426722278803_3005">
<span class="yiv2180435576" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1426722278803_3004"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Mr. Lazarus will be able to assist with information for clearance in Toronto.</i></span></span></div>
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Kudos to Laura for her fast responses. I let her know how much I appreciated her helping me. Thanks to her, I made an informed decision.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sigh. And now you know. "And knowing is half the battle." Yeah. Battle. No kidding!</span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I'd hinted, I got cracking on researching other breeds - much smaller breeds (or cross-breeds) to boot! Well, wouldn't you know it? I found one! Sis, Durie, and I went to meet her. She'll be ready to come home in about mid-April or so. </span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By the looks of it, as Durie said, she's already everybody's puppy! Lol! Another sis, Kar, has already got some puppy food and treats waiting. Another sis, Lat, sent to say she's...and I quote, "Adorable!" Heh heh. My parents really like her, too. My niece, Kiki, can hardly wait! And, yes, I've shown her pic to one of my friends. "Awww." Lol! Don't you just love the Awwws? All being well, I'll share a few pics of the first meeting in the next post.</span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh! I've decided to name her Sydney.</span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Claudia</span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a></span></span></div>
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<span class="yiv2180435576"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a></span></span></div>
Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-37165729545204141642015-03-08T23:58:00.000-04:002015-03-17T11:21:51.620-04:00When Dogs Fly<br />
The past week had me learning quite a bit about pets and air travel. Well, specifically, having a pup fly from Jamaica to Canada.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing: Rotties here are very expensive. I've heard the suggestions to adopt. I've done some homework and have unearthed nothing favourable. Sigh. I really do love Rotties. So, I thought, why not take one back from Jamaica on my next trip? We - yes, we, as I enjoy the pups vicariously through my parents - have the pleasure of watching the latest litter grow. And, a pleasant surprise followed shortly after that litter: Tara gave birth. Her lone pup is coming along so nicely, due in no small part to Mommy's TLC.<br />
<br />
Well, I've been doing some research as I contemplate this move - well, the move to move one of the pups to my humble abode. As it turns out, <a href="http://www.aircanada.com/en/travelinfo/airport/baggage/government-regulations.html" target="_blank">Jamaica has strict regulations prohibiting pets from travelling on passenger flights</a>. So, pets travel neither in the cabin, nor as checked luggage. Pity. With West Jet, the pup would've had to be older than eight weeks, and the flight would've cost only about CAD$75 - a figure I got just before the rep checked again and brought the bad news about the regulations. And, oh! Jamaica's Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries has this to say about <a href="http://www.moa.gov.jm/VetServices/export_dogs_cats.php" target="_blank">exporting dogs and cats</a>. And, it says this about <a href="http://www.moa.gov.jm/VetServices/import_dogs_cats.php" target="_blank">importing dogs and cats</a>.<br />
<br />
So, cargo. West Jet doesn't offer cargo service from Jamaica. So, Air Canada? They offer cargo service, but they don't take pets younger than 12 weeks. By the time the rep priced out the shipping cost for an older dog (the approximate age and weight the pup would be on my next visit), it sounded like around $600.<br />
<br />
So, CAL, then? (Not Southern California. Do keep up. :-)) CAL offers cargo service and <a href="http://www.caribbean-airlines.com/index.php/products-a-services/our-services/live-animals" target="_blank">they take pups</a> younger than 12 weeks. I called their Mississauga, Ontario, office and a very helpful Emile walked me through the process. Well, as much as he could "from this side." Learned that they'd charge landing, processing and handling fees. He recommended I get in touch with CAL cargo in Kingston, Jamaica, to find out a bit about the process from their side. <br />
<br />
I did. I completed the online query form and got a reply from Laura via email shortly after. That was precious. She needed clarification and I had a few other questions. All in all, it was a very helpful exchange. I had to approximate the dimensions of the carrier/kennel - ditto for the pups - but, the long and short, a nine-week old pup would perhaps cost about $180; a five-month old, approx $500. Again, based on my best guesses. The plan was to visit or call once I got there and could provide more concrete info.<br />
<br />
The carrier/kennel would need to follow certain guidelines, by the way. I'm sharing <a href="https://www.westjet.com/guest/en/cargo/shipping-information/pets-kennels.shtml" target="_blank">West Jet's pets/kennels page</a> because they were pretty thorough in their write up. Of note, the carrier should be strong and sturdy; the pet must be able to stand up, turn around, and lay down, without discomfort. Many airlines make a quick reference to the <a href="http://www.iata.org/whatwedo/cargo/live-animals/Documents/pet-container-requirements.pdf" target="_blank">IATA standards</a>.<br />
<br />
But, back to Ontario, Canada. I checked online and subsequently called the <a href="http://www.inspection.gc.ca/animals/terrestrial-animals/imports/policies/live-animals/pets/dogs/eng/1331876172009/1331876307796" target="_blank">Canadian Food Inspection Agency</a>. Importation of live animals falls within their jurisdiction. The age of the dog would be a factor. I wouldn't need a rabies certificate for a pup younger than three months. I'd need a vet certificate, as well as a document from a "competent government authority" confirming the country of origin was rabies-free for the six months prior. Jamaica is rabies-free. It's listed on the site. Still, the document would be necessary. Of course, there'd be the <a href="http://www.cbsa-asfc.gc.ca/fpa-apa/fees-droits-eng.html" target="_blank">Canada Border Services Agency</a> (CBSA) inspection fees.<br />
<br />
I have also been checking out boarding for when I'd have to leave the little one at home. All these things. Oakville has a nice little place - <a href="http://www.wagaway.com/" target="_blank">Wag-a-Way</a> - I would consider...<i>considering </i>when that time comes.<br />
<br />
Who knows? I might opt for getting another breed altogether - from here! In the meantime, a trip down memory lane:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpX8PPJCJlOIlFeT4ruxoFQ_QH6hv49kS9qGZOSKaTbNUptDIIBSgHxsfj8hokQt72yOPsc4hW5ruT7cqZWEFdq86mnQN0vzIeXKzQ0z9tLBuAxdnF4aYW-0NkJU981i8PCmzCXTjR7v4/s1600/DSC06836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpX8PPJCJlOIlFeT4ruxoFQ_QH6hv49kS9qGZOSKaTbNUptDIIBSgHxsfj8hokQt72yOPsc4hW5ruT7cqZWEFdq86mnQN0vzIeXKzQ0z9tLBuAxdnF4aYW-0NkJU981i8PCmzCXTjR7v4/s1600/DSC06836.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tara's a great mom!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHLBgpiNHm5mqxetEc9QhEsDk9Wj3gbiei1ZbhBcbRSxsyGJP0OnCIg_Jvm1XO6aYwE-PxeKRS0NnXTGwBN460Y7N42bICim9tbdnx7Q9lCVKxffvmEYMx1A6dne_tpkmNC_CViYONaI/s1600/DSC07100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHLBgpiNHm5mqxetEc9QhEsDk9Wj3gbiei1ZbhBcbRSxsyGJP0OnCIg_Jvm1XO6aYwE-PxeKRS0NnXTGwBN460Y7N42bICim9tbdnx7Q9lCVKxffvmEYMx1A6dne_tpkmNC_CViYONaI/s1600/DSC07100.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scoot over! Tara and pups.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9w_aYQYseMt3DDwLT6_VlZYemRyPcoCqRnXJ30O03uhKxoVH0gQRyvPGv-LkQAVkdUOUko8RpLG8hw7U-NHOR-TzpEdSJCdLhx3uRs96g39iyBMYXzgCm_jlL-9jdb-ry-_4RZzyAUw4/s1600/DSC07326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9w_aYQYseMt3DDwLT6_VlZYemRyPcoCqRnXJ30O03uhKxoVH0gQRyvPGv-LkQAVkdUOUko8RpLG8hw7U-NHOR-TzpEdSJCdLhx3uRs96g39iyBMYXzgCm_jlL-9jdb-ry-_4RZzyAUw4/s1600/DSC07326.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gettn some "me time".</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpKoIECXMaJNxP2it9I4FN5f_R9UmU_UvGIZzbsQ3kvmD2C_vMNOGDUs7oecWGFapJXyVFEkEWjLSFytLINpgipBT2YP1-tmJy_S6SPLMuLrh9Lv_D0wadqmPHw8oysSLgyqzUIVFDOA/s1600/Dreadie+-+DSC06419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpKoIECXMaJNxP2it9I4FN5f_R9UmU_UvGIZzbsQ3kvmD2C_vMNOGDUs7oecWGFapJXyVFEkEWjLSFytLINpgipBT2YP1-tmJy_S6SPLMuLrh9Lv_D0wadqmPHw8oysSLgyqzUIVFDOA/s1600/Dreadie+-+DSC06419.JPG" height="288" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who's their daddy? (Dreadie)</td></tr>
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Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a>Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-32842288595444776242015-02-28T22:18:00.000-05:002015-03-02T13:56:01.809-05:00Poetry on the GO<br />
There's always something to write about. It's amazing how, once you put pen to paper, or finger tips to keyboard, the words come. They sometimes come in poetry; they sometimes come in prose. But, however they do, they come. <br />
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Not too long ago, as I sat aboard a GO train headed for Union Station in Toronto, I noticed a familiar gesture. The woman who sat across from me stared out the window. Her reflection fused with oncoming trees, cars, and buildings. I faced the direction of the train; she did not.<br />
<br />
It came to me then, as it had so many times before, that I could use even a seemingly mundane thing as a springboard for a story.<br />
Plus, I take the train so often, I'm bound to fimd gems - if I take the time to notice.<br />
<br />
That morning, the words came in poetry. I knew the title immediately. That I would call the collection "Poetry on the GO" came later.<br />
<br />
And, while I do not yet have that collection, per se - actually, only one poem so far - I know the others will come. Here now is the first from the...collection.<br />
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<b>Tears On A Train</b><br />
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She sat looking out the window </div>
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Of the LSW Train </div>
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Something must've been boiling </div>
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Because, tears came.</div>
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She searched her back for tissue </div>
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None was to be found </div>
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So, instead of looking out </div>
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She started looking down. </div>
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Claudia</div>
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<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a></div>
Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-29675030019739949492015-02-18T18:18:00.002-05:002015-02-19T10:58:59.878-05:00Good Times<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
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My 6yo niece, Kiki spent Valentine's Day Eve with me. Yes. If it wasn't a thing before, it is now. She was off from school because of PA day. I was off from work because I'm an adult and can do whatever I want. Umm. No. Not really. I took time off. <br />
<br />
And what a joyous day it was! The child is a treat. I was treated to gems from the back seat of the car. And at the mall. And at home. They went a little something like these...<br />
<br />
She: You know why I like Valentime's Day? <br />
Me: ValentiNe's.<br />
She: ValentiNe's. I have a problem with that word.<br />
Me: Apparently. Go on.<br />
She: On ValentiNe's Day, there's so much love. And gifts.<br />
Me: Yeah, for someone special.<br />
She: Well, for anybody, as long as you can give.<br />
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As we drove:<br />
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She: I was wondering, do you have a Valentine's Day gift for me? <br />
Me: Umm, yes. We`re going home to prepare Ackee & Saltfish - and <a href="http://caribbeanpot.com/jamaican-festivals-the-ultimate-fried-dumplings/">Festival</a>! <br />
She: Yes! This is the best Valentine's Day ever!<br />
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We stopped at the mall because I needed to. Really. Before attending to the purpose for the visit, however, I had to make a small detour into Shoppers. As it turned out, they had gone all...Valentiney. There were stuffed toys, chocolate, and stuffed toys with chocolate...everywhere! Kiki was like, well, she <i>was </i>a kid in a candy store. As we walked down one aisle, (alas, I had given in to her plea for "just one Valentine's Day present"), I heard her behind me:<br />
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She: I love you.<br />
Me: I love you to, sweetie.<br />
She: Oh, I wasn't saying I love you to you. I was reading the card on that toy.<br />
Me: -_-<br />
She: But, I love you too.<br />
Me: I love you too. Hmph! Okay, let's pick a toy.<br />
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We went from one aisle to the another comparing toys - and prices. At some point, she started repeating after me, "These prices are ridiculous!" I decided to tone it down.<br />
<br />
We finally narrowed it down to three little stuffed animals. Little. We had no idea what the price was for one of them. The cashier was gonna have to help us decide. Or so I thought. As soon as the cashier let us know that two of them were Beanie Babies, my niece was beside herself with excitement!<br />
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She: Okay. Okay. You choose.<br />
Me: Which one do you want?<br />
She: Just choose for me, please!<br />
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I related to her dilemma. Faced with the hard choice, she'd be there all day. So, I chose the purple and white giraffe - don't ask - and earned the title: Best Aunty for the Day. Booyah! (Smart girl. She's very careful with her superlatives re her aunts. She has several. Aunts - and superlatives.)<br />
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The icing on the cake at the mall, though, came after I'd completed the business I'd really stopped in for. Now, a new store is coming soon and it'll be on the ground floor. As part of the promotion, there's a ceiling-to-floor picture of a model's face. Standing next to it, Kiki looked rather small. I guess she was fascinated by that. She asked me to take a pic. I did. We made our way around the corner and there it was again - the model's face in larger-than-life depiction.<br />
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She: Aunty! Look!<br />
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[I turned to see what the excitement was about.]</div>
Me: Eeeww!<br />
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I suspended my mild disgust long enough to take a pic. After all, it was the funniest thing I'd seen in a long time! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wpNFLKWL0EuVk-H_DupWjfjjbdYNZmiKMvroVANY3b3LwneV_RheI_QeEYZCiDPQl0i9DqLgO2W9Fvd9IfPA3Hn-qKbJvsNhUI0JUViLPCo0WGPJk49fp9wY_s2GV8oFhMqNJGMKb94/s1600/IMG_20150213_101528%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wpNFLKWL0EuVk-H_DupWjfjjbdYNZmiKMvroVANY3b3LwneV_RheI_QeEYZCiDPQl0i9DqLgO2W9Fvd9IfPA3Hn-qKbJvsNhUI0JUViLPCo0WGPJk49fp9wY_s2GV8oFhMqNJGMKb94/s1600/IMG_20150213_101528%5B1%5D.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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We got home and ate and watched <i>Ever After High</i> and did some story-telling - with the toys as characters - voice-overs and all. Before her afternoon nap, I wanted to capture the day with both of us, so I told her I wanted a selfie. (We were lounging on the couch, rocking our "bed hair".) I showed her the first shot, expressing my dismay at the state of my hair.<br />
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She: It's not important what our hair looks like. What is important is that we're spending time together.<br />
Me: Yeah. You're right.<br />
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She <i>was </i>right. So, I have a pic with Kiki where we're both rocking our "bed hair". <br />
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Good times. Good times.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Claudia <br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
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Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-57402083267563406812015-02-08T21:48:00.000-05:002015-04-24T09:21:57.825-04:00And They're Off!<br />
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In a rather unceremonious way last evening, I submitted the manuscript for my anthology of poems to a publisher for review. It wasn't that it was anti-climactic. Rather, it was that the time had come and it was the thing to do.<br />
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I've talked a bit about the writing journey, and the recent steps toward the publication of my poems, in a previous post entitled...wait for it...wait for it...Yep! You guessed it. <i><a href="http://cyopro.blogspot.ca/2014/09/fourteen-to-fortyish-formative-years.html" target="_blank">"</a></i><i><a href="http://cyopro.blogspot.ca/2014/09/fourteen-to-fortyish-formative-years.html" target="_blank">Fourteen To Fortyish: The Formative Years" An Intro - of sorts</a>. </i>Further to that, I did more work on that body of work. I heeded the points and perspective Daniel was so brutal, yet so gracious, to share. Yes, I cut and clarified and snipped and smoothed accordingly. There were only a few instances where I parted ways with a suggested change in wording or phrasing. I was happy with them as I'd written them.<br />
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After working on the anthology for a while longer, I realized there was nothing truly stopping me from making that next step. Nothing, that is, except for the (expected?) angst of letting my poems go; setting them free into the world, and wondering how they would fare. After all, I'd been writing and compiling for decades. Still, I couldn't coddle them forever. I could keep adding a comma here and removing another there; add a space here; break a stanza there, and so on. But, it began to feel like stalling.<br />
<br />
So, at some point, I decided February was the month to get some writing projects off my plate. I wrote a piece - well, edited and tailored a blog piece - for submission to a newspaper. I got that done last Monday. We'll see how it fares. I then turned my thoughts to the poems. A day or two later, I revisited the web site of the <a href="http://www.cawingcrowpress.com/" target="_blank">publisher</a> I'd been in touch with - making inquiries and such. A day or so after that, I got an email touching base, wondering how my manuscript was going. Well, clearly, it was time. It is said writers don't need time; they need a deadline. So, I set the deadline - yesterday - and promised I'd submit it on February 7, 2015.<br />
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And, that's what I did!<br />
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I went over each of them one last time. I still made a few changes to the three or four of them I'd highlighted to revisit. By the time I was through, I was happy with those, too. I am yet to write the acknowledgements. But, I'd been assured that could come later. And, speaking of acknowledgements, even as I added the finishing touches, I got a little cheering on from sis, Durie. You know, I need to make a list. Really don't want to miss the folks I should acknowledge. I'm also working on a cover that properly conveys the coming of age/journey of life/character arc...you catch my drift. In the meantime, I'll be reaching out to three or or four people who've written some heartwarming things about my poems. I hope to get their permission to quote them on the back cover.<br />
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When the time came to hit <i>Submit</i>, I decided not to overthink it. I had done a lot of thinking and reading and praying, and even more thinking and reading and praying. It was simply time to do it. I let 'em go - for the publisher's review.<br />
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Of a truth, there's also been that feeling of wanting to make way for something new. Yes, life spared, there will be more poems. I'm thinking they will be borne of requited love. <i>Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.</i> The last section of this anthology speaks to hope. I shared <a href="http://www.cyopro.blogspot.ca/2015/01/back-to-life.html" target="_blank">one of the poems from that section</a> in the previous post. I think the next poetry book will continue in the vein where this one left off. Hope is a good thing.<br />
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And now, we wait.<br />
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Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
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<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-29939761171673972552015-01-28T18:58:00.001-05:002015-01-28T19:00:22.285-05:00"Back to Life"<br />
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What's a new year without poetry? C'mon. There's always room for poetry. <i>Back to Life</i> was written...ok, I won't say when it was written. Let's just say it's on the sunny side of <a href="http://cyopro.blogspot.ca/2013/07/word-coloured-lens.html" target="_blank">Without the Kill</a>. Because, well, seasons change.<br />
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<b>Back to Life</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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I thought I had<o:p></o:p></div>
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No more strength or time for love<o:p></o:p></div>
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Until you came<o:p></o:p></div>
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I made the time<o:p></o:p></div>
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Your love gave me strength.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I wanted more of you<o:p></o:p></div>
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Wanting me<o:p></o:p></div>
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You said I gave you hope<o:p></o:p></div>
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By just being me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In your eyes I see<o:p></o:p></div>
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How you take pleasure<o:p></o:p></div>
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In pleasing me<o:p></o:p></div>
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My love, no need to fear<o:p></o:p></div>
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Losing me at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For the first time<o:p></o:p></div>
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No second thoughts<o:p></o:p></div>
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Your strong arms<o:p></o:p></div>
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And long kisses<o:p></o:p></div>
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Comforted me home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Your words wooed me<o:p></o:p></div>
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Your actions moved me<o:p></o:p></div>
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Into the new me<o:p></o:p></div>
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As you loved me<o:p></o:p></div>
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Back to life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>- Dnafcnatgada</i></div>
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<br />
Claudia<br />
<a href="http://www.cyopro.com/">www.cyopro.com</a><br />
<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a><br />
<br />Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3948585789930793417.post-16126750521579935652015-01-18T18:48:00.000-05:002015-01-18T19:21:49.513-05:00The Waffle Prayer<br />
Okay. Before I tell you what The Waffle Prayer is about, let me tell you what it's not about. The Waffle Prayer is not about a compartmentalization of prayer requests. Y'know? Where each request, or each kind of request, is packed neatly inside a lil space, 'til you have rows and rows of prayer requests neatly laid out, then hope that God will grant them in order of priority. No. It's not about that.<br />
<br />
What <i>is </i>The Waffle Prayer about? Well, here's what happened. A few years ago, Kiki, my niece, then going on Four, came to spend a Girls' Night with me. Her parents dropped her off on the Friday afternoon. The plan was that we'd spend the night; spend all day Saturday together; I'd take her to church with me on Sunday morning, and take her back home Sunday afternoon.<br />
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We had a fun Friday night. I don't quite remember how we spent the evening before bedtime, but, I'm pretty sure it involved reading - and Dora. Much has changed since then. <i>Let it go! Let it go!</i> (Gee, thanks, <i>Frozen</i>.) Before tucking her into bed, I asked her what she'd like for breakfast in the morning. I said, "I was thinking we could have waffles!"<br />
"Yes! Yes! Waffles! I love waffles! Let's do waffles, Aunty!"<br />
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I guess that was the best idea, ever!<br />
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Anyway, come morning - and, by morning, I mean waking-up-at-5:45-on-a-Saturday-morning morning - I awoke to her shaking my shoulder, "Aunty! It's morning!"<br />
"It's kinda early, though, don't you think?"<br />
"No. No, it's not! The sun is up. It's light outside!"<br />
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She was right. The sun <i>was </i>up. It <i>was </i>light, outside. Who knew? <i>She </i>did. Apparently.<br />
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I struggled out of bed. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I was ready to start the day. Almost. I told her I was gonna take a moment to say prayers, then I'd be right with her. I took that moment and, as soon as I was done, I asked Kiki whether she had said prayers, too.<br />
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"Yes, I was praying that you would finish praying so we could go make the waffles!"<br />
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I'm still crying! Lol!!!<br />
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Claudia<br />
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<a href="http://www.twitter.com/cyopro">www.twitter.com/cyopro</a>Claudiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09523466566829340456noreply@blogger.com0