About smkelly8

writer, teacher, movie lover, traveler, reader

The Crown’s New Cast

I’m enjoying the new cast for the most part, but still miss Clare Foy and Vanessa Kirby who played Princess Margaret. The series creator states that it just takes 3 minutes to get used to the new cast. While I like most of the actors, it’s taking me longer to adjust and I don’t know that I’ll adjust to the new Princess Margaret.

Poem of the Week

Although the wind
blows terribly here,
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks
of this ruined house.

Izumi Shikibu (Japan, 974?-1034?) [translated by Jane Hirshfield with Mariko Aratani]

From Poetry Foundation 

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Pastels

Each week Cee of Cee’s Photography challenges bloggers with a fun prompt. This week we’re to share photos highlighting soft colors or pastels. What photos will you share?




Click here to see more soft colored photos, click here.


Weekend Coffee Share

wordswag_15073188796611453091488Weekend Coffee Share is a time for us to take a break out of our lives and enjoy some time catching up with friends (old and new)!

I’d tell you that I’m keeping up with my Economics 101 course. I haven’t done much algebra since high school so that’s a feat.

We had a fun Thanksgiving with relatives from out of town, but I forgot how much work these celebrations are. I’d say my sister did most of the work, but still there was a lot to do. Yes, we had a lot of help, but at a certain point adding more people creates more work. I think there’s a theory or law that states as much.

I’ve started watching The Crown. I’m captivated by the stories, but not quite sure what I think of the new cast. I’ll let you know about that.

I resume working for the Census on Monday and will have 3 days of training this week. I’m curious what our next operation entails. I’m also looking forward to an evening cooking event at my library. It’s on holiday appetizers.

Poem of the Week

December 1st

by Billy Collins

Today is my mother’s birthday,
but she’s not here to celebrate
by opening a flowery card
or looking calmly out a window.

If my mother were alive,
she’d be 114 years old,
and I am guessing neither of us
would be enjoying her birthday very much.

Mother, I would love to see you again
to take you shopping or to sit
in your sunny apartment with a pot of tea,
but it wouldn’t be the same at 114.

And I’m no prize either,
almost 20 years older than the last time
you saw me sitting by your deathbed.
Some days, I look worse than yesterday’s oatmeal.

Happy Birthday, anyway. Happy Birthday to you.
Here I am in a wallpapered room
raising a glass of birthday whiskey
and picturing your face, the brooch on your collar.

It must have been frigid that morning
in the hour just before dawn
on your first December 1st
at the family farm a hundred miles north of Toronto.

I imagine they had you wrapped up tight,
and there was your tiny pink face
sticking out of the bunting,
and all those McIsaacs getting used to saying your name.