Vital Imagery Blog

One of the rituals to get me in the zone for work, particularly for my fuzzy-headed, easily distracted morning brain, is to plug in the ear buds and crank the tunes. And by tunes, I mean the noisier and louder the better.  When it comes to music I enjoy a lot of genres. Yet, while maintaining concentration amidst  office chatter is impossible for me,  there's something about good metal or guitar-heavy classic rock invading the senses that blocks out extraneous thoughts. It allows me to focus on the words and the task at hand. A fairly quiet boomer nearing the age of retirement,  I'm apparently a bit of a surprise among my colleagues for this choice of music.  Yet  with hands poised over the keyboard,   it took Pantera's Cowboys from Hell to get my day underway.  Full of growling vocals and the complex metal groove of the late Dimebag Darrell's guitar,  it not only got me into the groove too it inspired a topic. Heavy metal plays to the imagination. It conjures i

A strange thing happened when I was taking pictures this past Thanksgiving. Eerie really. It began with my 94-year-old mother's turn to tell us what she was grateful for. Having lost my father last year, shortly after their 70th anniversary,  her response was not unexpected. "I am so thankful to have had the most wonderful husband. I miss him and wish he was here." After the rest of us had finished listing our blessings, I decided the time had come to take a picture. Amidst the grumblings of hungry diners I took a quick shot, then checked to see if it was good enough to let people get back to the business of eating. What I saw, however, set us back a little. At the end of the table, closest to my mother, was a tall shadow. While the logical side of the brain searched for a technical answer as to what had caused the anomaly, the imagination was happy that there didn't appear to be one. Instead, it could join with my heart in what I wanted to think I was seeing.

Halloween will be here in just over a week. As it falls on a Saturday this year,  it makes it much easier to take full advantage of the celebration. Typically, Mom and Dad rush home from work and shovel in supper. The kids are transformed into superheros,  fairytale characters and spooky creatures.  After they spend a few hours begging goodies from the neighbours, the candy is sorted, the sugar influx monitored and it's off to bed.  On a Saturday, however, there can be parties too. For young and old. I  remember being invited to my first adult Halloween party. I was in my 30s and thought that donning a costume, something I hadn't done for probably 15 years, seemed like a lot of fun. Trying to get my husband to agree, however, proved to be a bigger challenge than determining what I was going to wear.  I did manage to convince him and our last-minute scrambling had us attending as a bobbysoxer and greaser — me in a poodle skirt and saddle shoes, him in denim, leather an

It was one of those completely exhausting weekends that I enjoy more than those relaxing, rejuvenating ones. Our daughter's two little ones came to stay and for two days from the dawning hours until twilight Papa and I were on the go. In a house long past its baby days, finding ways to entertain a pre-schooler and toddler for lengthy hours can be a bit of a challenge.  Certainly, once the grandchildren started to arrive in our lives,  I toured mom sales and yard sales to restock on toys and games.  But given that these two live in a home established as a daycare, the inventory at Grandma's falls a little short. So in addition to the physical running around after two energetic youngsters, my brain is also kept busy thinking of innovative and favourite ways to entertain them. We have finger painted with pudding,  opened a restaurant in the playhouse, baked a pie and read lots and lots of stories. Another favourite quiet pastime is colouring. This weekend, though,  there w