I so remember the excitement and wonder I felt, as a young child of five or six years, walking the five blocks to public school and seeing, really seeing, blades of grass, an ant or caterpillars (of which there were many), a stone which caught my eye, the shapes of leaves rustling in the trees, a crack in the cement sidewalk, the gravel between the sidewalk and the road. Each day was a new, anticipated experience that made me feel so incredibly alive. Being so much closer to ground than an adult, gave a magnified view, a more immediate perspective to nature. The old-fashioned perennial gardens right smack at my eye level were magic with their bleeding hearts, roses, peonies, and a multitude of other bright and beautiful blooms and fragrances.

I dawdled on my four daily journeys, to and fro’ in the morning and again after lunch, loving the experience of examining my world. In between the walks, having to sit quietly and still in the classroom was an impossibility for me. Filled with thoughts itching to be expressed and bubble forth, my chattiness resulted in reprimands. Then came the inevitable long minutes in the hall, waiting to see the principal and suffer the strap on my little hands. None of that deterred me. My thoughts, ideas and experiences persisted in being expressed.

The one punishment that gave me pause was the notation about my talkative nature in my report cards. A gentle admonishing from my parents resulted. I hated disappointing them.

Authority figures in school were another matter. Their opinions did not impact me as much as did Mom and Dad’s. My quiet rebellion at school continued into my post grad nursing program where I was always in trouble. I did try harder with teachers whom I liked and respected. But even as a young child, I tended not to respect anyone who did not like or respect me.

I don’t know where this ingrained belief system came from. Perhaps it was knowing my parents not only loved me, but trusted and respected me. Adults who did not live up to that mark in my eyes, experienced my talkative, waywardness, my only method of exerting some control over my own life.

I was an only child for the first eight years of my life with no peers to share my wonder of the world around me. Perhaps that influenced my desire to talk in school.

Whatever the reason, I remember with great affection, the magic of my childhood and the magic of my small, happy world. And such memories keep me feeling like me, despite the wrinkles and limitations of age.



The Dirty Secret about CPR in the Hospital (That Doctors Desperately Want You to Know)

A few things have changed in medicine over the last few decades. Okay, a lot has changed, and most of it good. But along with the improvements in patient care there has been an exponential increase…

Source: The Dirty Secret about CPR in the Hospital (That Doctors Desperately Want You to Know)

A Canadian’s View On Our Disrespect Of President Obama’s Presidency

The Fifth Column


America – He’s Your President for Goodness Sake!

By William Thomas

There was a time not so long ago when Americans, regardless of their political stripes, rallied round their president. Once elected, the man who won the White House was no longer viewed as a republican or democrat, but the President of the United States. The oath of office was taken, the wagons were circled around the country’s borders and it was America versus the rest of the world with the president of all the people at the helm.

Suddenly President Barack Obama, with the potential to become an exceptional president has become the glaring exception to that unwritten, patriotic rule.

Four days before President Obama’s inauguration, before he officially took charge of the American government, Rush Limbaugh boasted publicly that he hoped the president would fail. Of course, when the president fails the country flounders. Wishing harm upon…

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WONDER WORDS, DOODLE DELIGHT . Journal . Quotations .

I continue to enjoy my Midori. That is perhaps an understatement as my Midori has occupied much of my time lately. I have been busy doodling inspirational quotations; zendoodling; and, importantly, organizing my tasks for June – preparation for a much-anticipated visit with my daughter, grandsons and new son-in-law in British Columbia.

"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."   HENRY DAVID THOREAU
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” HENRY DAVID THOREAU


VINCENT VAN GOGH quotation about silencing our inner critic ...
VINCENT VAN GOGH quotation about silencing our inner critic …


" …everything happens for a reason." quotation. UNKNOWN. Thanks to Andrea K (online) for wording doodle layout - plus my own touches
” …everything happens for a reason.” quotation. UNKNOWN. Thanks to Andrea K (online) for wording doodle layout – plus my own touches


"Splendid Spring"
“Splendid Spring”

Enjoy this day!

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“TIDY HOUSE, TIDY MIND” (or not?) . Memoir . Einstein & I

Messy Home Or Tidy Home – Which Is Better For The Mind?

By HSD (Home Style Directory) staff .  (See link below)

Recent research has shown that there may indeed be benefits from both having a lovely clean home and a messy one.


Experiment 1

One group of participants were asked to fill out a questionnaire in a tidy space and another group were asked to complete the questionnaire in a messy space with objects strewn everywhere.
They were then asked:
1. to donate to charity and
2. choose a healthy or unhealthy snack.
Experiment 1 showed that the participants in the tidy room chose to eat healthy snacks and donated more money to charity than the messier participants, thus indicating a tendency to follow conventional expectations of good behaviour.

Experiment 2

In another experiment participants were given a ping pong ball and asked to come up with different uses for it.
Experiment 2 showed that the participants in a messy space were a great deal more creative with their flow of ideas than the participants in the tidy room.


So very broadly speaking, if you want to encourage your children to be more creative, it looks like you will have to allow them some space to be downright messy. If you want conventional, well behaved children then keep everything in the home ordered and tidy!


We asked 500 members of The Home Style Directory communities if they knew that allowing their child to have an untidy room would help them to be more creative would they be able to turn a blind eye to the mess?
37% said yes
52% said no
11% shrugged

It is worth noting that Einstein was notoriously messy!

“If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?”


– However, before all you messy pups start cheering and aligning yourselves with Einstein’s genius, remember, you don’t have to have an empty desk, just an ordered one. Spit spot! “


I love this article. Justification for my piles everywhere – I am just too busy being creative!     LRP



And thanks to:           http://theeditorsjournal.wordpress.com/author/theeditorsjournal/


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BEING ALIVE TWICE . Memoir . Mexico City & Puebla 1992 .

I am busily sorting boxes and boxes of old photos for a family project. I came upon one bundle which immediately evoked lovely memories of a work/vacation Greg and I took to Mexico City, November 1992.

Greg and I, Mexico City, November 1992.
Greg and I, Mexico City, November 1992.


This was an era in Mexico when I felt comfortable, on my own, hopping into the quaint yellow taxies scooting with abandon through dense traffic – those delapitated, stripped-down, yellow Volkswagon ‘bugs’ with front passenger seat removed for easy access of passengers into the back seat. I shopped while Greg worked at installing a new Uniroyal plant in Mexico. Together we bussed to Puebla for a wonderful visit to the ancient town of Spanish origin. It was quaint, lush, romantic and beautiful with its thriving centre square with vendors – the meeting place of the town.

Two other photos touched me.

Archeology find, Mexico - newborn Skelton in pottery vessel.
Archeology find, Mexico – newborn Skeleton in pottery vessel.


I am betting the mother or grandmother turned the pot specifically for the baby. A rather lovely, touching burial place.

Treasures and gifts spread out on our hotel bed. Mexico, Nov1992

                                    Treasures and gifts spread out on our hotel bed. Mexico, Nov1992

Treasured memories for our home on our return, and gifts for our five children. I loved the terra cotta pottery. And gold was so reasonable then. I brought back a heavy gold chain.

Don Quixote, Mexico City 1992
Don Quixote, Mexico City 1992


Every time I travel, I return loaded down. Case in point – The Don Quixote above stands about 28″ tall. The shop owner wrapped him in bubble wrap and layers of protective paper so I could carry him on the plane with me. Don Quixote is Greg’s favourite literary charactor – the noble crazy man. Does he see himself in the honorable charactor? 🙂  This is for future debate!?!

This Don was Greg’s Christmas present that year. I was so excited that I found something so personal, so right – not just another gorgeous sweater.

Don Quixote, White
Don Quixote, White

On another of Greg’s business trips to Mexico, he returned with another ‘Don’. We ended up with many over the years. Once we even purchased a house because a pocket-book copy of Don Quixote was on the very top of one pile of books in the lower level of the home. The owner had been a professor of Literature at the University of Waterloo. Because there were a dozen or more piles of books, ‘Don’, placed strategically on top, was an omen – a good one. So we immediately put in our offer. And it was a wonderful, happy, country home, large enough for all our children and our nine grands to visit. There were horses across the street and goats down the road – wonderful for walks with the children.

Once again my focused story, on a trip to Mexico, has meandered down another memory tributary.

Now it is time to return to my boxes of photos where I may discover another story for Inknpetals.


“To recreate something in words is like being alive twice.”

anonymous Chinese Poet.

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Be Prepared! . Memoir .

Be Prepared!

My Zentangle Garden. I drew it in the wee hours of this morn when all sane people were asleep.
My Zentangle Garden.   I drew it in the wee hours of this morn when all sane people were asleep.

I am a Girl Guide from way back. Do you remember their & Scout’s motto? Well, I am preparing!

For the past two decades, I have jotted down notes in a file for my children and husband (if I predecease him) for my funeral arrangements. When I first mentioned it to them they were aghast, “Oh Mom …” Then Paupst humour kicked in: “Are you planning to leave soon?”

But the need for this came to me when I realized that since I no longer held my original Presbyterian beliefs, nor the Roman Catholic ones of my husband, that I would be denied the traditional church or chapel service, nor would I want it. So I began thinking of alternatives, ones that would have some meaning for my family that would, hopefully, be grieving my departure.

I realized that any ceremony would have family participation – because we always do major things as a family. It would have to have humour, since that is the most memorable and most cherished part of my life with my family. That would allow them to remember my foibles and eccentricities and there are many; my excesses – chocolate, breads, butter (all the healthy things they berate me for). It would HAVE TO have music. Music has always been my solace, my tranquilizer, my joy. My iTunes library has my favourite music that could be played non-stop for 3 or 4 days without a repeat – Nina Simone; ‘Yo Yo Ma Plays Ennio Morricone’; Leonard Cohen; Chopin; Sissel – Lloyd Webber’s ‘Pie Jesu’ and Shubert’s Ave Maria; Beyonce – Ave Maria; The Priests – Ave Maria and Pie Jesu. (yea yea I am neither Catholic nor religious in any way, but I appreciate magnificent music!)

My Genealogy volumes should be present to represent a major life accomplishment. And flowers – to represent my childhood in my parents flower shop, greenhouses, nursery, and a continuing love for them throughout my life. A few, favourite pieces of my art would be nice to warm up the chosen venue and make me a presence there.

The written word, in poems or thoughts that have meaning for me and may provide comfort to some one or two of my family, would be important to be a part of any ceremony or memorial –

 I Belong

“That is part of the beauty of literature. 

You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you are not lonely and isolated from anyone.

You belong.”

– F. Scott Fitzgerald


“Death ends a life, not a relationship.”

– Mitch Albom: “Tuesdays With Morrie”

Some of my ‘words of wisdom’ I published in the early pages of each “Lineages & Memoirs”.

And … the recipe for my hereafter …


Don’t bury me in the ground
Toss me in the air
Throw me in the wind
Float me on a prayer

Don’t put me in a box
Let go and let me fly
I don’t want pretty daisies
I want the bright, blue sky

And when I fall, I’ll melt into
The gorgeous, deep, blue sea
Or maybe a wild, green river
Or maybe into a tree

I can sway and move with earth and sky
And heaven all around me
At long last I’ll be free
A part of all this bounty

From ash to ash, from dust to dust
Nearer my God to thee
Don’t bury me in the ground
Let me fly, peaceful and free

Copyright © 2013 by Mary Alexandra Stiefvater

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HAPPY EASTER, HAPPY SPRING . Memoir . Evolution of an Easter Lily .

Classic, elegant Easter Lily
Classic, Elegant, Easter Lily

Easter Lilies. So perfect in their simplicity, so symmetrical, elegant, and so very fragrant.  Just look closely at their sturdy, velvety, petals. Perfection.

The first time each Spring, that Easter lilies arrive in stores, they transport me four, five, six decades back in time, to an awe-some memory – a vista of Easter lilies, row upon row, filling all the benches in one of Dad’s greenhouses. Those greenhouses symbolize some of my happiest memories. Lush greenery of all shades and textures, abundant colour, smells of nature at work – the rich, moist, peaty soil, and a variety of floral fragrances; packed earthen floors between rows of benches, occasional puddles; exquisite Baby’s Breath meandering over and through the piles of potting soil underneath benches, reaching their delicate thread-like stems and leaves onto the dirt pathways.

After my father died in 1986, I had the presence of mind to keep his notes on soil mix, planting schedules, transplanting, buying sources and more. The following illustrates the evolution of an Easter Lily bulb to a stately flowering plant which evokes the official end to winter, and the awakening of spring.

Dad's Easter Lily Growing Schedule - bulb to bloom.
Dad’s Easter Lily Growing Schedule – bulb to bloom. Right- his hand written tree-shopping list (a portion).

Excerpt from “ROBERTSON Lineages & Memoirs, Genealogies for My Children & Theirs.” page 489 – ‘Trimmings’ Chapter 2 ‘Robertson Florist & Nursery. 

And while there have always been colourful hydrangea, hyacinths, azaleas, tulips and crocus acknowledging the changing season, it is the proud Easter lily that immediately evokes happy thoughts of Mom, Dad, home, our greenhouses, rebirth, Spring.

I sit writing, and inhale deeply the exquisite fragrance of my bursting Easter Lily, standing proudly in front of my computer, promising hope and life.

April 18, 2014

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I Travelled to Italy This Morning . Memoir .

Courtyard, PoorClares Convent, Ischia Italy
Courtyard, Poor Clares Convent, Ischia Italy

I Travelled To Italy This Morning

And a good Sunday Morn to you!

The sun is shining and I have already travelled to Como and to Ischia, Italy, a volcanic island in the bay of Naples with an incredible castle build 474 BC, a monastery, an exquisitely beautiful convent and 360 degree views, and lit exit tunnels deep down in the rock.


My favourite mode of travel these days is with ‘Arounder’ on my iPad. In an instant, and without spending a cent, I can be in Italy, or China, or Greece, or Ecuador where my friend Marilyn is visiting for two months. And the moving panoramic views are so close-up you almost feel the ancient earth and stone under foot and you experience the flowering vines and breathtaking vistas.

A little envy slips under my skin when I read the wondrous travel blogs some of you experience. But the entire world, and even the Cosmos is available to everyone at the click of a button. Quite wonderful really.

Restaurant 'IlTerrazzo', Ischia Italy
Restaurant ‘IlTerrazzo’, Ischia Italy


The 'canons' ~ my four volumes of "Lineages & Memoirs, Genealogies for My Children & Theirs …"
The ‘canons’ ~ my four volumes of “Lineages & Memoirs, Genealogies for My Children & Theirs …”




From: paupst jim
Subject: YOUR WORK
Date: 26 March, 2014 7:22:47 AM EDT
To: Paupst Linda


Terry was helping me hang paintings in my new condo which has a surface area greater than 41 King St.

I remarked to him that your not receiving the Order of Ontario was an egregious mistake by the selection committee.

What an extraordinary canon of work you produced.

Big T totally agreed.

Many of the recipients received the award for work in a particular political party, what a joke.

In life, the odds against are 7/5, unless you are connected, an intoxicating irony.

Despite all of this, your work stands.

Kindest regards,


. . .

From: Paupst Linda <lrpaupst@….>
Subject: Re: YOUR WORK
Date: 27 March, 2014 11:09:46 AM EDT
To: paupst jim <jimpaupst@….. >

Good Morning Jim,

What a lovely note to read as I drink my morning coffee. Thank you for this.

I appreciate the irony you mentioned. But, I was so surprised by the nomination itself, and I felt so honoured, more than at any other time in my life, so winning was truly of no consequence to me.  It was a wonderful feeling to know that the work and the ‘canons’ themselves were appreciated. It was more than I expected, and it was all that my soul needed.

There has been enough time past since publication, that I look at the four volumes now and have difficulty believing I accomplished all of that. I used to procrastinate to such a degree that I seldom finished anything. But this project nagged at me and I feared kicking the bucket before recording all the data, stories and photos I had acquired.

I hope you are enjoying your new condo. Hanging paintings means that your digs will feel like ‘home’. As least I hope that is the case.

I trust you are well and enjoying life. I was in Toronto yesterday with a friend, Sally, to attend the One of a Kind Show at the Energy Center. It was a disappointment – nothing like the glorious items of years past that used to entice the senses.

Thank you again.

Linda Robertson Paupst
Website: http://www.krop.com/lindapaupst/
BLOG: http://www.inknpetals.wordpress.com
TWITTER: @LindaPaupst