tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post2883289991371304492..comments2023-10-11T04:09:53.564-07:00Comments on materfamilias writes: Imagine! Vancouver Love Stories and Taking Flight to Where?materfamiliashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-26518592720434942582016-09-29T07:45:14.397-07:002016-09-29T07:45:14.397-07:00Thanks for taking up my invitation (and the lock&#...Thanks for taking up my invitation (and the lock's), Stacy. Another interesting twist -- I'm sure the romantic mis-speller never thought of those negative implications. . . materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-24103911386678467132016-09-28T10:59:20.197-07:002016-09-28T10:59:20.197-07:00"I'm trapped", she thought. Years we..."I'm trapped", she thought. Years went by, children came and went. He decided that she stay in the house and make a home for the family. She felt, at times, like a prisoner. Lovely wallpapered walls enveloped her home, but walls none the less. A few times a year she longed for the sky with no burdens or bounds. The children grew, the finances became easier and she had learned to make peace with her circumstances. It dawned on her one day that being part of this marriage wasn't a warden and a prisoner, it was a team which worked together. One evening in summer, they decided to walk, reveling in their empty nest and calm understanding of each other. At the sculpture, she took a lock from her pocket. She had started writing on it years before, but couldn't finish the thought. Then, with the pen, she changed 'This" to "Their" and finished the sentiment. Stacyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12424660063345307786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-44205500038974524632016-09-26T21:57:05.385-07:002016-09-26T21:57:05.385-07:00For this story, I'd just make a bigger postcar...For this story, I'd just make a bigger postcard! For someone who's "never done this before," you're a natural.<br />I also thought the lock demanded a story, and I photographed it with that notion -- so pleased you responded to the invitation.materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-71508250386051109992016-09-26T09:23:24.953-07:002016-09-26T09:23:24.953-07:00Lovely story EleonoreLovely story EleonoreAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-61066470121812256152016-09-26T08:56:04.757-07:002016-09-26T08:56:04.757-07:00This comment has been removed by the author.slfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04405972029307714164noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-66093322827195812792016-09-26T08:56:01.064-07:002016-09-26T08:56:01.064-07:00This comment has been removed by the author.slfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04405972029307714164noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-38473250119517481672016-09-26T08:55:03.189-07:002016-09-26T08:55:03.189-07:00Have a safe, wonderful trip! I am so impressed tha...Have a safe, wonderful trip! I am so impressed that you fit 10 weeks' worth of clothes in a carry on bag.slfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04405972029307714164noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-77256879003524196602016-09-26T08:47:54.539-07:002016-09-26T08:47:54.539-07:00Same here. I learned to diagram sentences and prid...Same here. I learned to diagram sentences and pride myself on excellent spelling (to the point that I am always picking out misspelled words in published books - who let that go unnoticed?). I've wondered if that crushed my creativity. Oh well.slfhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04405972029307714164noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-64984002169827649482016-09-26T08:25:57.458-07:002016-09-26T08:25:57.458-07:00I've never done this before, but I could not r...I've never done this before, but I could not resist. This lock was crying out for a story. (Sorry, a bit too long for a postcard.)<br />It had not been love at first sight between them. Later, they could not recall the exact moment or circumstances of their first meeting. They had worked in the same building, Sam on the fifth floor and Stan on the seventh. They began to exchange looks when they met in the lobby or the elevator, then the looks turned into smiles. They had coffee together at lunchtime. They went to the movies, had dinner, and finally went to bed together when it seemed only natural to do so. <br />But the day Sam moved into Stan’s apartment remained special for the two of them. Neither had lived with a partner before. Both were worried that quarrels about toothpaste in the sink and wet towels on the bathroom floor might ruin their love. But nothing of the kind happened. Different as they were, they seemed made for each other. Sam was a wonderful cook, Stan enjoyed doing the shopping. Sam was excellent at planning trips, Stan was able to start a friendly conversation in the most exotic language. Sam never forgot the birthday of any of their friends and relatives, Stan was famous for his ability to invite the most diverse set of people and make them all feel at home.<br />There was one thing they had in common: they were quite superstitious. Most of all, they feared that their relationship might break up in the seventh year. So when the sixth year of living together drew to a close, they started to throw nervous glances at each other. They treated each other with particular care and tenderness. The year advanced and nothing happened. They began counting the days, feeling more and more confident. When the day of their anniversary arrived, they were jubilant. People in the park turned round to watch the two middle-aged men who radiated happiness while they were hanging a lock on one of the statues. <br />Eleonorenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-89349384963455006442016-09-26T07:01:52.374-07:002016-09-26T07:01:52.374-07:00Yes, that misspelling caught my eye, and I could e...Yes, that misspelling caught my eye, and I could easily imagine a story around its poignancy.<br />I feel the same way about spelling, rote memorisation; the possibility my creativity was squashed vies in my mind with a certain-- dare I admit it?--confidence, comfort, perhaps even smugness, about my spelling and grammar.<br /><br />Yes, this is what I'm like -- once the plane lifts, such a relief. . . . (even better when my head is finally on the "elsewhere" pillow. . . .)materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-43839401542881179872016-09-26T06:53:39.480-07:002016-09-26T06:53:39.480-07:00And another very good sport with a wonderful imagi...And another very good sport with a wonderful imagination and a clever way with words. . . <br />Admit it -- storytellers and wordsmiths such as you and Lorrie just can't resist -- It's not even about the postcard at all! ;-)materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-72234339870795427112016-09-26T06:52:32.965-07:002016-09-26T06:52:32.965-07:00I can't wait, D! More incentive to visit Zagre...I can't wait, D! More incentive to visit Zagreb!materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-4686447421885213232016-09-26T06:52:11.187-07:002016-09-26T06:52:11.187-07:00You are such a good sport, Lorrie, and a good writ...You are such a good sport, Lorrie, and a good writer as well -- I do love the twists at the ending. Astonishing how much can be conveyed on a postcard, no?materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-76517648894841589622016-09-26T06:51:21.739-07:002016-09-26T06:51:21.739-07:00I know, amazing, right? We'll see how the ward...I know, amazing, right? We'll see how the wardrobe works -- a bit sad having to ignore my boots and sweaters for another few months, but I think I can make this work.materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-81492437957438267162016-09-26T06:50:27.717-07:002016-09-26T06:50:27.717-07:00Yes, that's the deal, Mary! But otherwise, you...Yes, that's the deal, Mary! But otherwise, you're welcome to all my words and photos for free. Thanks for the good travel wishes.materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-58946657141263184582016-09-26T06:49:27.472-07:002016-09-26T06:49:27.472-07:00It's pretty great, L. Check it out next time y...It's pretty great, L. Check it out next time you're over. . . materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-42443671011666494932016-09-26T06:49:05.517-07:002016-09-26T06:49:05.517-07:00❤️ Right back at you!❤️ Right back at you!materfamiliashttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16062766947897513369noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-87976884203078096002016-09-25T12:30:27.173-07:002016-09-25T12:30:27.173-07:00It had not worked out after all. She had always wo...It had not worked out after all. She had always wondered if he loved her the way she loved him and nothing he did could free her from that doubt. When some of her friends had taken their sweethearts to the park to put a lock on those strange statues, it had occurred to her that maybe they should do the same. If he was willing to confess his love for her in such a public fashion, she wouldn’t have to worry any more, would she? She suggested the idea, he shook his head. That was ridiculous. He loved her, he had told her a thousand times, wasn’t that sufficient? It was not, she insisted. She needed the ritual, the formal act. After that, she promised, she would believe in his love forever. He shook his head again and laughed.<br />But three weeks later, for her birthday, he took her to the park and unwrapped a shiny lock. “Let’s do it”, he said. She looked at the lock, then at him. “Where is the key?”, she asked. “There is no key. The lock opens with a code. You close it, turn the dial, and nobody can open it again.” “Unless you know the code”, she said. “But nobody does”, he said, folded his hands around hers, hung the lock on the statue’s arm and clicked it shut. “There you are”, he said. “Happy now?” She nodded. And wondered. Did he remember the code?<br />The things people do to receive a postcard....<br /><br />Eleonorenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-71950776567636027832016-09-25T09:28:33.369-07:002016-09-25T09:28:33.369-07:00What an idea! It looks so great and clever,too
No ...What an idea! It looks so great and clever,too<br />No love stories here....to hear anything you'll have to wait těte-á-těte :-)<br />Lorrie,I love your love story :-)<br />DottoressaAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-42350917272305993722016-09-24T21:34:56.863-07:002016-09-24T21:34:56.863-07:00He noticed the way she admired her friends' sp...He noticed the way she admired her friends' sparkly rings. Her steps slowed and sometimes stopped while passing a jewelry store window downtown. She never said anything, but he knew. And he wished he could have given her those diamonds, those glittering baubles to wear. She wore her plain gold band always; through the years of scrimping for schooling, raising a young family, and sending the children through university. The budget constraints eased considerably, but diamonds seemed less important than they once did.<br />For their 30th wedding anniversary, he presented her with a small box. Her eyebrows raised, then contracted. It was much too heavy for jewelry. Opening the box, she saw the heart, covered in diamonds. Real diamonds. She held in her hand, examined it, and raised her eyebrows again. <br />"We'll leave it here, in this park," he said. "A symbol of our forever love. No one will suspect these are real."<br />She leaned in for a kiss, as he pulled the second box from his pocket. "Here's something else."<br /><br />A very quick, unedited story for you, Mater. What a lovely idea for the park. I'd love to receive a postcard, if my story is chosen.<br /><br /> Lorriehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03653026442945027184noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-42903592133642376962016-09-24T15:48:48.414-07:002016-09-24T15:48:48.414-07:00Hi Frances, I can't believe you'll be away...Hi Frances, I can't believe you'll be away for 10 weeks, and with carry on baggage no less!! Good luck with getting everything seen to before you leave, safe journey. Love the sculptures!Patriciahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05504513116873595049noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-21539605812378046472016-09-24T14:39:00.534-07:002016-09-24T14:39:00.534-07:00Interesting photos and it will be interesting to s...Interesting photos and it will be interesting to see how they end up as more locks are added. Am I right in thinking you might send me a postcard in return for a 250 word assignment? Really? Lol happy travels MaryAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-53556874202723592272016-09-24T10:55:03.755-07:002016-09-24T10:55:03.755-07:00No love stories here either...
I am admiring that ...No love stories here either...<br />I am admiring that fabulous art installation...hostess of the humble bungalowhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06453827257671312902noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-7221017407943727782016-09-24T09:57:07.334-07:002016-09-24T09:57:07.334-07:00Nor mine. I see someone momentarily forgot how to ...Nor mine. I see someone momentarily forgot how to spell 'their'. We used to learn, well, spelling actually but I was going to say little tricks like 'their begins with the'. There was something to be said for memorization and training. Although maybe it quashed my creativity to the point where I can't invent a story about a lock.<br /><br />I don't have any 'big' travel planned until spring so am looking forward to whatever you are willing to share. The last days before departure are such a storm of emotion. Such sweet relief when the plane leaves the ground...Georgiahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10305981957174091874noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4904021173466473381.post-29582784143505569022016-09-24T09:17:13.637-07:002016-09-24T09:17:13.637-07:00No love stories, they are not my forte. How about ...No love stories, they are not my forte. How about a love emoji? <3 :)LPChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18209861350905135093noreply@blogger.com