SoCS: Golly Gee

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “golly gee.” Use “golly gee” or another interjection that displays the same sentiment in your post. Enjoy!

Golly gee I’m going to enjoy writing about this because I’ve been saying it for over a week now thinking about talking to my neighbour. I didn’t say “golly gee” to his face, only when I’m relating the story or mentally savouring the moment.

A little background for those who don’t know me (as in my 6 loyal followers) I have a neighbour in his 30’s who does very little. Well, now he’s a stay-at-home dad so at least he’s being useful. He doesn’t like to work and doesn’t drive or even have a drivers license. He’s spent most of his adult life video gaming. Everything is paid for and done for him.

My house is behind their house so my driveway is a right-of-way through theirs. They don’t shovel snow. Sometimes they don’t even shovel their damn porch. She works and has the car so she parks up near the road, just off to the side of the driveway, so she can drive out easily leaving me with a very long unplowed driveway. When we get lots of snow the neighbour across the street will dig her out with his tractor and scoop.

Usually, I hire guys to plow my driveway and they benefit from that; especially when they want to get close to the house to unload their groceries. (still taking plastic bags). My last guy was so good, did such a great job. He said he had to turn around at the top of the driveway so I could offer to my neighbours; for an extra $10 he would clear out her spot up by the road. She said “No, we’re good.”

Of course he assumed they would take the deal. He’s from my generation, not understanding there are people like that. He did their spot. I ran into Numbnuts (I’m sorry but that is what I call him) and said “Did you phone the guy about doing your spot?” He said “No, we’re good” exactly the same way. They both knew I was going to get charged for it and I let it happen.

The snow plow guy came 4 times and it cost me $120. I knew they wanted me to say something but I didn’t. Back then she would have relished a conflict so she could tell the other neighbourhood women so it was worth $40 for me to make them just look like the assholes they are; wondering when I was going to say something.

That was 2 years ago. Last year I was looking for someone new and was going to try the older guy if I needed him. But we didn’t have too much snow and there were enough thaws to not get snowed in.

There are no young people doing snow plowing anymore. No young farmers with snow blowers doing a winter side-gig. There are landscaping companies wanting to charge for the season. One company wanted $450 for the season; up front. Seriously. What if I only needed them once or twice?

(I’m finally getting to the “golly gee” moment.) My neighbour’s parents were visiting them and I ran into them all while I was going to get my mail. I didn’t actually say ‘golly gee’ but my voice was dripping with it.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to get a snow plow guy anymore.” The look on his face! and his parents looking at him! And now they have a kid! And while their car is parked right by the house on our driveway. Hmm, what do you usually do, Son?

Golly Gee, that felt good and I still savour the moment. Although, golly gee, I may have periods of being snowed in this winter.

SoCS: grey

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “black, gray, and white.” Use one, use ’em all. Bonus points if you use all three.

OK, first of all: what is with all the grey interior design? It boggles my mind that grey became the ‘colour’ in style so everyone uses it! It is the most depressing colour known. Its not even a colour. I’m sorry to the people reading this that have grey homes but I see it on TV all the time, too. And on FB and magazines. Grey! Why? Don’t people have a colour they like? Is now gauche to like colours? Are colourful walls the blue eyeshadow of home decor?


When you get older things aren’t so black and white but bigger and bigger areas of grey. When you are young things are good and bad, right and wrong, you love and hate. But after having been the bad guy and wrong and hated, you start to see both sides. You realize you aren’t so fucking perfect so stop pointing a finger.


There are actual studies done on how colours affect your mood. The ‘grey’ season is coming up. Grey skies and white snow. My eyes are drawn to the Red dogwood in front of the cedars. Christmas colours! Seeing a male cardinal really stands out! We all put up lights to cheer up the gloom at this time of year. Why would anyone choose to wake up to a grey kitchen!?!

I just realized I spell grey differently. oh well, and this is how I spell ‘colour’. See? There is no right and wrong way!

SoCS: cam

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “cam.” Find a word that contains “cam” or use it as is.

The next road over from me is called Army Camp Road. I really hope they change the name soon. It runs alongside the Stony Point First Nations Reserve and has a dark history. Its a reminder of how badly our governments treated First Nation people.

In 1942 their land was confiscated by the Canadian Government to use as a military training camp. The people were moved onto a reserve near-by; Kettle Point. The two reserves are separated by a strip of land two rural roads apart. That’s where I live.

What houses they could move were picked up and taken to Kettle Point. Sometimes they didn’t know where they should go so they dumped them anywhere they could. The brick houses were knocked down; farms destroyed, burial grounds desecrated. And all on the promise that when the war was over they would get their land back.

Some of the men had enlisted and did not know their homes were being demolished while they were fighting overseas. And because they joined the army, they lost their Status. They came home to nothing and nowhere to go.

They didn’t give the land back. They kept the army camp for Air Cadets and opened Ipperwash Provincial Park on their beautiful beach. My dad taught Air Cadets at this Army Camp and we would go to the beach there quite often. I never knew the history. the Kettle Point Reserve was something hidden and off limits. There was terrible poverty and alcoholism was rampant. We destroyed these people then turned our noses up at them.

Back in the 70’s a delegation of people from Kettle Point would take a monthly trip to Queen’s Park with all the letters and papers promising their land back. Nothing happened. (I do not have the dates in my head and to go look will break up my SoC.) Finally in the 80’s they took it back. It was a summer that many Indigenous people had come from all over North America to protest another land claim in Cayuga. The time was ripe and they had their own army to do it.

But that made them criminals and the stand-off began. It ended when Dudley George was seen carrying a stick they thought was a rifle and shot him. They did not help him. A few of his friends and family took him in their car, up Army Camp road to the hospital which is not close by. He died on the way and became a martyr for their cause.

There was a book written and made into a movie; One Dead Indian. Army Camp road is mentioned. Its lined with cottages on one side; fenced and wooded on the other side. Now is a time for Reconciliation. I hope they change the name of Army Camp Road to something Ojibway.

I still have the photos of the official “Walk Home” in 2015 in my media library. These photos were all taken on Army Camp Road.

SoCS: what’s in a name?

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “close eyes and point.” Grab the closest printed material to you when you sit down to write your post, open it up (if it’s a book, flyer, etc.), close your eyes, and point. Whatever your finger lands on, use that as your prompt. 

Lying next to me is my vehicle permit. I put it out yesterday to remind me to re-new my license plate which expires next week. Its not like I didn’t know it was coming up; we re-new our plates on our birthdays. They used to send out forms to remind us a month in advance but they don’t anymore. I guess they figure we will always remember our birthdays but that doesn’t mean we’ll remember to re-new our plates.

So I put it out yesterday to remind me to do it but I didn’t do it. Memory is a problem when you age. Also lethargy; that feeling of not giving a shit anymore but there are chores to be done. I have things that have to be done so I put off anything I can put off until it needs to be done.

I pointed at my plate permit and it landed on my name which I’m not going to type out. I’m still hyphenated. I still have my spouse’s last name attached to mine. Good thing I did hyphenate it because at least I still have part of my name and not just his family’s name.

I didn’t bother to change it for a number of reasons. At first I figured he would meet a younger woman who would demand he divorce and he would pay for it. Turns out there is no woman who is willing to tolerate that life.

We’re not divorced. Been separated for 15 years. Its partly because I don’t want to pay for it and partly the lethargy: I don’t care. I’ve always secretly hoped he would come to his senses and want a happy life but he doesn’t. I’m reminded of that when I speak to him on the phone; oh yeah, that’s who he is. What was I thinking?

When I went on Facebook I kept my name on so my caving buddies or anyone looking for me, knowing my husband, could find me.

That turned out to be a good thing because there is woman with my name on Facebook who lives nearby. My sister saw her post recommending a seafood restaurant. She wondered why I was doing that when I was vegetarian. I messaged her and we are ‘friends’ now. Always weird when she ‘likes’ something. Hey, that’s my name!

That got me wondering about our ancestors and if we were related. During the pandemic the library offered free access to Ancestry via our Lambton County archives. I knew of my great grandfather coming to Canada and his children but I couldn’t find any other relatives with that name.

Too bad I can’t lie and say the book I’m reading, “Braiding Sweetgrass”, was at my side but it was in the living room. That would have been way cooler than my license permit. Just for curiosity I will open and point to see what I could have written about.

“Cultures of Gratitude”. Oh yes, thanks for reminding me. I am so grateful to live here, in this house and have the health to look after myself. Its important to keep that in the forefront of my thoughts.