In honour of my wonderful friend Magdalena, I have conceded "Scribe" to her. I've changed my design because I am an awesome friend and because I am truly selfless and humble. Like really, they should make a statue of me downtown...oh, oh! On a HORSE, pointing off into the distance! With people falling upon their knees beneath my horse's hooves...people who look distraught and beg for my help-- and they are the people I don't like...and I'm wearing a hat, no! A BIG hat! NO, a crown, or one of those "cone" princess hats with the veil on top, and instead of pointing, I can be holding a sceptre! And in the other hand, a list of the saved and the damned, or maybe a rubber mallet to bonk people with! And my horse should have wings, yeah! Ok, not one horse, a carriage pulled by many winged horses! Or one of those litters that they used in Africa, and all my friends could be carrying me aloft, with my begging, pleading & deformed enemies beneath them, BEGGING to touch my platform or to gaze upon me for a brief glorious second!
Anyhow, to my beloved friend, I say: "you're welcome".

You know those times when you are gently coasting, waiting for the other shoe to drop? Well it'll drop soon enough. Just when you think you are finally on the ball and have it all together, the shit hits the fan. So that precious joy that you find, hold it and cherish it, because it will be gone before you know it. And then it's mess-handling time again.

Welcome to Franny's Fables...
fa·ble (fā'b'l) n.A usually short narrative making an edifying or cautionary point and often employing as characters animals that speak and act like humans.A story about legendary persons and exploits.A falsehood; a lie.Given my love of exaggeration and learning from other's mistakes, I present this humble blog. I will leave it up to you, wise and beloved reader, to decide what elements are fact and which are fiction. The morals in these stories are all true.

Foggy Night

So my husband & I went on a date yesterday. Pretty exciting if you hear the part about the skinny-dipping, the conservation authority police and the cinnabuns. But anyhow, I have not been so relaxed and happy in a long time. It was really refreshing not to care about what I SHOULD be doing and what others think of me for once. I think my mind was spinning like a top, and for a few brief minutes last night, the half-moon was reflecting on the lake (the real moon), a night-time fog was rolling in, and everything was quiet and dark and peaceful. Is there anything more beautiful than when the fates cooperate to give you memories to last forever. It's funny how some of my best memories took place in foggy weather. There's something about the intimacy created by the fog that is pretty special, don't you think?

There is a small, rather loud little boy in my home. He has two volumes: LOUD and LOUDER. When this imp goes to the store with me, he often shreiks and carries on, shouting and begging and whining for the day's most recent baubles. Under the duress, my best reaction is no reaction at all. I find that threats fall upon deaf ears, and some little boys don't have very good hearing or memory when it comes to the consequences of their actions. It is only after I arrive back at my home that I become a panicky. I realize how crazy and demented my life is and 'why did I ever even try that' and bemoan the fact that my youth is lost forever. I am old and tired and useless and incapable and have wasted my life and failed at child-rearing. These mental tirades go on until the the little boy falls alseep in the middle of the living room floor, or calls from grandma's to say "I appreciate you". We really do give so much of our hearts to those that can hurt us the most...