This weekend, my sister and her husband came to visit and spend Thanksgiving with us. The weather was lovely on Friday and Saturday and we had a wonderful time together, as always.
Here are a few pics little sis took around the point and gave me permission to share. Thanks, Lynn.
One of the first composition principles a student of photography learns is the rule of thirds.
Storytelling, too, can rely on the rule of three, using repetition of a part of the story to build and then resolve tension.
But what about the number three applied to life and people?
When it comes to a trio of children, the general rule is usually FUN!
Born into a family of three children, I already know this.
Of course, I also know the mischief three little people can get up to.
I was looking after my grandchildren one day, when they and their friend asked me if they could paint their faces. Thinking that the girls, being older, had the good judgement not to use markers, I said “Sure, go ahead.”
Off they went to their playroom. To make a long story short, it took quite a bit of soap and elbow grease that night to erase most of the wonderful face art by marker (so my daughter informed me). Our little boy ended up sporting green eyebrows for a couple of weeks!
Oh dear. My bad.
The moral of the story? Grandmas can make boo-boos sometimes too.
Fun is not limited to children, of course. Get the right three adults together and laughter will surely ensue.
When that trio includes my husband and his sister Julie,
who both love hamming it up for the camera, fun is guaranteed.
Three’s a crowd? Not around here. We just needed more wine.*
“There is something magical about three, you know – a trio is tight and nicely economical.” ~ Ian Williams
“If two wrongs don’t make a right, try three.” ~ Laurence J. Peter
“To succeed in life, you need three things: a wish bone, a back bone and a funny bone.” ~ Reba McEntire
What trio comes to your mind when you think of fun and camaraderie?
WPC: Trio
WTT: Camaraderie
* “Photos of us” taken by Paul Sautter
I’m shaking things up for Friday Bouquet this morning. Usually I award it to a fellow blogger found doing something wonderful in the blogosphere, but this time I am throwing the bouquet to my sister and the therapy dog program.
Lynn is an assistant professor and nursing instructor at the Memorial School of Nursing in St. John’s, but her contribution to health care and humankind hasn’t stopped there. Please click on the link below – wouldn’t you know it, a WordPress blog by Eastern Health Story Line – to find out what she and her little dog Abbey have been up to, and be sure to look for their photos. All of my animal lover friends are sure to enjoy it. 🙂
http://storyline.easternhealth.ca/2015/03/19/canine-therapy-a-warm-and-fuzzy-feeling/
Have you had any experience with canine therapy?
What about the health benefits of spending time with other animals?
Here are two other sisters wishing you a warm and wonderful weekend. ❤
This is the last in the series of my best loved Peace Songs.
It’s also my beautiful sister’s birthday. Happy Birthday, Lynn. Love you lots! ❤
Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today
Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you will join us
And the world will be as one
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world
You, you may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you will join us
And the world will live as one
written by John Lennon
When we were little children, my dad worked as a salesman. Sometimes he had to leave his young family to go on short business trips. On several occasions and if we were on summer vacation, he would take us along, and he would make a working holiday out of it. We loved to stay in whatever motel or hotel he booked for us. It was on one of these little motel stays that I saw my first TV program in colour (I’m telling my age here, for sure). And of course we enjoyed the novelty of eating in different restaurants each night.
Most of the time though, Dad’s job only required him to be away from home from nine to five, Monday through Friday. One particular day, as he was getting home just before supper, he got out of his car and noticed my little sister playing outside with her friend. He heard her as she turned to her playmate and said in a proud but quiet tone, “That’s my father.”
That little memory always made my father smile when he shared it with someone. Seemingly an innocent and offhand remark made by the youngest of his three children, those three little words meant much more to him. I know it made him feel proud and happy to be that father, that figure of authority and loving protector of his family. It was a responsibility he took seriously, a role that only he could execute with his unique brand of friendship, understanding and humour.
We had our dad with us through all the joy and the turmoil of growing up, and for many years after. He stood by me twice as I married, giving me away to another man who professed his love. But when we lost him almost ten years ago to the devastating illness known as ALS, none of us were ready to say goodbye.
Today is his birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad. He would have been seventy-nine. It was my wish to let everyone who reads this blog today to know a little bit about him. He was a man I was proud of, and still am. Why?
Because “that’s my father”.
Further reading:
Daddy’s Guitar
You Never Left
Jennifer's Journal 