Not Another Book

It’s been a very busy time for me with my first novel for adults about to be published in the spring and the ARCs soon going to print. While I’ve had three books published for kids, this one feels a bit different in some respects with a different audience. And while a lot of adults do read my kids book, I’m sure kids will not be reading this one. Just so you know, this doesn’t mean that I’ll no longer write for kids because I will. As many of you know I also have two books for kids coming out. The prequel to the Cammie books is scheduled for publication next fall, plus I have another book due out in Fall 2022, but wait….there’s more.

yes I did say more.

I just signed another contract for a book, set in Germany in the 1700’s that is due to be published in the Fall of 2021!

So it looks as though I’ll be quite busy for the next little while with edits and book promotions, and four books coming out in the next three years. I’ll continue to keep you in the loop, though. I’m sure the time will fly, and I’ll continue to work on new projects. I’ve got several books simmering along as we speak, which is nothing unusual for me, and hopefully, one day they’ll all see publication.

Today is the first day of December. I, for one, am glad to see November over and done with. I hope this month goes well for all of us as we make the first steps into December.

Thanks for reading!

Good Mothers Don’t–Cover Reveal

I’m excited to be able to show you all the cover to my first novel for adults. And guess what? It finally has a title, which is a good thing, too, because now I know what to call it! ( If you read an earlier blog post, you likely know that for a time the novel had been nameless. But no more.)

Good Mothers Don’t will be released on April 30th 2020 by Nimbus Publishing & Vagrant Press, which still seems like a long ways away, but I promise you, it’ll come quicker than you think.

If you’d like to read a quick blurb to get an idea of what the book is about, just click on the link HERE and it will take you to the Nimbus site. I’m not sure when it will be available for pre-order (people have been asking) but as soon as I have that information, I’ll pass it along.


Another Day to be Thankful

Gratitude helps us to see what is there instead of what isn’t. ~~Annette Bridges

It’s Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada but this post is not only for my Canadian readers but for readers from no matter where you are. It’s all about gratitude and gratitude knows no boundaries.

It seems no matter what we’re going through in life, there are always things to be thankful for if we look closely enough. Family and friends come first to mind for me. Without these two, the rest might feel meaningless. But even without family and friends in the equation, gratitude can be found in so many of the little things in life. The fall colours we’ve been seeing this past while, for instance. Our world is filled with beauty with each season we enter. I wonder sometimes if we don’t take the passing seasons for granted. I’m sure there have been times in my own life when I was just too busy to take time to be grateful for all the colours in our world.

Sometimes gratitude can come to us in the form of an email or  phone call from someone just checking in with us to see how things are going. I also have a few friends who still use the telephone, (yay them!) who take a moment every so often the call me and I can’t tell you how grateful I have been for these calls over the years. And yes, I return the calls from time to time as well, except with on particular friend who is long distance. But we both know and understand that. Right, Darlene?

So along with my family and friends, I am so grateful at this moment for my upcoming books, all the beautiful fall colours that surround us, and for those people who take just a moment from time to time to find out about what’s going on in my world! But there are so, so many other things, big and small. I couldn’t possibly mention them all!

I’ll leave you with a few gratitude quote that I found online.

“The more grateful I am, the more beauty I see.” – Mary Davis

“Thankfulness is the beginning of gratitude. Gratitude is the completion of thankfulness. Thankfulness may consist merely of words. Gratitude is shown in acts.” – Henri Frederic Amiel

“This is a wonderful day. I’ve never seen this one before.” – Maya Angelou

“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words but to live by them.” – John F. Kennedy

“Gratitude unlocks all that’s blocking us from really feeling truthful, really feeling authentic and vulnerable and happy.” – Gabrielle Bernstein

“Gratitude helps us to see what is there instead of what isn’t.” – Annette Bridges

“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” – Marcel Proust

“Count your rainbows, not your thunderstorms.” – Alyssa Knight

For all my Canadian readers, I hope you have a lovely Thanksgiving.

What do you have to be grateful for in your life at the moment?

Exciting Cammie News!

I was planning to write a quiet post about how quickly summer is passing by but heck, I’m just going to throw all that out and make this super exciting announcement.

I recently signed my third book contract in less than a year. Yup. You read that right—three!

This recent book, that BTW I finished writing last winter, is the prequel to the other two Cammie books. Making it, I guess, a trilogy. Who knew? Well, me, but that’s to be expected.

The book is set in East Chester around the time Cammie was born and it fills in a lot of the details of Cammie’s life—who her parents really are and just how she came to be living with bootlegging Millie Turple in Tanner. We also learn some more about Evelyn and his father Jim Merry; lots about the Ideal Maternity Home, as well.

It’s due to be published in the Fall of 2020 which means the book that was previously scheduled for that slot had to be bumped to Fall 2021. Just a little shuffling as it seemed to make sense to bring this book out sooner rather than later, seeing how Cammie Takes Flight was published back in 2017.

So there’s my late summer news and I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am. I’ve been sitting on this for awhile and was just bursting to tell!

But eventually, we all have to come back down to earth. Right? Even authors who have signed three book contracts in less than a year!!

I’m back writing again, looking through some material I wrote years ago and trying to decide if it still has value. This could take some time.

In the meantime, if all goes according to plan, the second round of edits on my still untitled adult fiction novel will be underway sometime in September. And as soon as we find the perfect title I’ll be sure to share it with you.

I hope you’re all having a spectacular summer.

The Reason I Took off my Wedding Ring

Someone recently got up the courage to ask me why I haven’t been wearing my wedding ring. After all, a wedding ring is a big deal to a lot of people. It symbolizes marriage and deep devotion. It says, “Hands off you’re mine.”And to take off that wedding ring might mean something is going on.

To be honest, I’m sure this person had noticed months ago but was only just working up the courage to ask. It may even have been the topic of conversation on several occasions with speculations made as to what was going on with the Bests. (Okay, I live in a tiny community; I know how these things work.)

People notice things, small things. They talk. They whisper. They wonder. They become concerned for their neighbours.

For the record, I’m not a noticer of these small things. I would be the last person to notice what someone had, or didn’t have, on their finger. Most times, I couldn’t describe someone’s jewelry to you or even what they were wearing. So if you’re ever in a line-up and I’m there to point you out for a crime, you can breathe easy. Just saying.

But you’re a writer, you might argue. Writers should notice details.

To this I would say: I do notice details, just not your details.

Let me explain.

I’ve always found long descriptions in books a little tedious and even struggle to picture these things in my mind if they are totally unfamiliar to me. But I can describe in detail what a character is feeling when they lose their best friend or when someone close to them dies or betrays them.; breaks their heart, or makes them laugh. You get the picture. Those are the details I notice—emotional details. As a reader, these are the things that will get to me in the end.

So, to end all the speculation as to why I took of my wedding ring off, I’ll post this picture. It’s a dandy as you can see, with plenty of detail.

Last fall, I got into a little trouble when my knuckle decided to swell. A real pickle as a friend of mine would put it! I had been working outside in the cold and wet for days, and by the time I noticed that my finger was swelling, (Didn’t I tell you I don’t notice things?) well, there was no way that ring was coming off. (Strangely, the previous winter, my ring was so loose I was afraid it was going to fall off.)

So with little or no room to spare, my finger started to get claustrophobic—yes, you read that right—and even I had to stop thinking about the fact that the little gold band I’d been wearing for nearly 40 yrs was becoming increasingly tighter. Each morning I checked to make sure I could turn it and that the blood was still circulating. And, each morning, I’d take a bit of comfort in the fact my finger wasn’t purple or gangrenous and was probably going to live another day.

But regardless, that ring wasn’t coming off.

Now, the thing about a ring that won’t come off is this: when you tell others about your woes, they know they’re the one who’s going to get that frigging thing off regardless of the fact that the ring is a size 4 ½ and your knuckle, at this point, is about a 6+.

I showed my oldest sister, the nurse. She was going to take charge. Older sisters do that, you know. She rolled up her sleeves and declared that if I could stand the pain she could get the dang thing off. Okay, so right there, I’m not liking the sound of that. I mean, who likes pain? You? Cause I sure don’t. She marched my finger (and me) over to the sink and proceeded to dump dish washing liquid over it making a slippery path. That sucker was coming off. She was sure. And while my size 4 ½ ring slipped around and around my finger, it came to an abrupt halt when it crossed paths with my size 6+ knuckle.
I was never very good at math (writing was more my thing) but even I knew that a size 4 ½ ring won’t go over a size 6 knuckle, no way, no how. Still, she pressed on—literally.. She was going to do it no matter what. I wasn’t actually screaming at that point so I guess I was still “standing the pain.” More dish detergent and running cold water—that would do the trick! Now, I’ll give credit where credit is due. She did get it about half-ways over my knuckle but as I said 4 1/2 won’t go over 6. Needless to say, the ring didn’t come off.

Meanwhile Hubby took a less painful approach. He went to the drugstore and brought home some supplies, specials creams that would take away the swelling from arthritis. We greased the finger and, saying a silent prayer, I went to bed expecting that by some miracle the promises written on the bottle was going kick in and miraculously take away all the swelling. That ring would be off come morning.

Or not.

Next up, I mentioned my dilemma to my son. He was going to take charge. (Son’s do that, God bless their hearts.) Being, well a young person, he took a more contemporary approach. He watched some Youtube Videos that described an easy foolproof method of painlessly removing a ring. He rolled up his sleeves. Like my sister before him, he was going to get that sucker off.

Following the Youtube video instructions he cut off a length of dental floss. All you do is slip a piece under the ring and start winding the floss around it and voila the ring pops off. Sounds great in theory and worked quite slick on the video but you can forget the fact that (listen to me people) a 4 ½ size ring WILL NOT go over a size 6 knuckle.

I did say painlessly, didn’t I? I was screaming even before the ring reached my knuckle. Childbirth had nothing on this! To tell the truth, I was screaming the second he started wrapping that thin piece of floss around my finger.( Boy doesn’t know his own strength.) But he didn’t stop. He was going to get it off.

My finger was bright purple by that time and Hubby had to turn away because he gets a little squeamish in these situations. To tell the truth, even I couldn’t look.

Hubby stepped in then and told my son to stop. At least I think he did. I couldn’t hear much over the screaming at that point. Shortly before the floss sliced off my finger, he was forced to give up. That sucker definitely wasn’t coming off because regardless of how hard you try– a size 4 ½ ring won’t go over a size 6 knuckle.

My daughter, who worked as a ward clerk for years at the hospital suggested my sister again. “The nurses have a way to get rings of fingers,” she said. Of course, what she failed to tell me at the time was, the reason they have such success taking off rings is because the fingers belong to corpses. Believe me, I had a ways to go before I reached that point.

The day of my book signing last November, I went into the jewelry store to see if it could be cut off. (FYI the ring , not my finger) It could. But of course I didn’t want it cut off. The jeweler was nice and told me that if the skin under the ring turned white my finger was in trouble and I would have to get it removed right away. My finger wasn’t white and I could still move the ring which seemed like good signs. I decided to wait. Cutting it off would be a last resort. Perhaps this ring just wasn’t meant to come off.

And then a miracle happened!

Maybe not a miracle, but you’ve got to admit that sounded kind of cool. Didn’t it?

So the day of said miracle, I came home from work and noticed that there was a bit more room under my ring than there was previously. Dare I? I thought as I gently turned it around while inching slowly toward my knuckle.

“I think it might just come off,” I said to Hubby as I went for the dish washing detergent. And low and behold that sucker finally came off! Somehow my size 6 knuckle had shrunk down to a size 4 ½ . I was in bliss.

And the moral of the story is—other than a size 4 ½ ring won’t go over a size 6 knuckle—be patient. Don’t force things. Sometimes your body has other plans. and if your ring-finger starts swelling, for the love of God NOTICE IT!

And so here I am, coming up to my 40th Anniversary tomorrow, bare finger on my left hand for all the world to see but I’m not concerned. While a ring is a symbol of marriage, it isn’t the marriage. If the ring is gone, the marriage doesn’t disappear.

I haven’t tried to put the ring back on. My knuckle still seems to be a bit swollen. To tell the truth I may have to get it enlarged. (The ring, not my knuckle.)


My Deserted Island

Across the lake from where I live there’s an island. Plenty of trees but nothing else, it’s basically deserted, if you want to use that term, although we have seen the remains  of human activity left behind on the shores from time to time while out in our boat; the remnants of small camp fires and some empty bottles.

I was thinking today how writing is sometimes like being on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, where your only thought is of survival—survival of the story, that is—with little contact with the outside world. You’re in hermit-mode—thinking, eating and breathing the story you’re working on. You can’t keep your thoughts on anything other than that dang story which can become kind of a convenient excuse for your own forgetfulness with those in the outside world. Things like not remembering what you were going for in the refrigerator or even the next room, the phone calls and emails you forgot to return. I like to call it author-brain, kind of like mommy-brain when all you think about is that little bundle of joy( or story) you’re suddenly responsible for. Don’t bother the author, her mind’s on her writing.

These past few weeks have been kind of like that; kind of, but not quite.( I’ve still had family time that I wouldn’t trade for all the stories that are circulating in my author-brain.)

I’ve started edits on my adult fiction novel recently and have just sent round one back to my editor. I’ve got to be honest, it’ always difficult to hit that *send* key and resist the urge to keep making changes, some so tiny that no one would ever know, except the author. But eventually you have to let go, the same way you let go of your child when you send her/him out into the big scary world. And it’s been pretty scary out there as of late.

All authors want their books to be perfect, and if not perfect, then as near to perfect as is humanly possible. Still, the typos pop up, the missing commas or periods, the misplaced words—all these things, regardless of how many proofreaders go through it with a fine tooth comb. Still, it’s something to aim for.

As many of you know, this is my debut adult fiction novel which doesn’t mean I won’t be writing for kids anymore. It just means, I’ll be doing both. I’ve several other adult novels that need to be resurrected after years of neglect. It was more like I got side-tracked. I’m really hoping to get back to them soon. But…I’ve also a few more ideas for children’s books as well. Why can’t there be more time in the day?

As of yet, this next novel of mine is titleless which isn’t really a word but I felt like using it. Titles are important but can sometimes be SO difficult to come up with. I was lucky with my first three book but this one has been a bit more challenging.

Another snippet I can share with you is that much of it is set in the Forties Settlement which, as many of you know, is right next door to good old E. Dalhousie. I like to give my stories local settings or use local name places. It’s important to me to share my part of the world with readers from far and wide.

I’m hoping I’ll find time to blog a bit more often, although it seems I’m forever promising that. It’s not as if I purposely ignore that promise but I’ve been putting more time into my actual writing these days which is probably more important. Perhaps when I’m fully retired I’ll make more time.

So that’s it for now. The edits are back in my editor’s hands and I’m getting ready to work on a project I started about nine years ago. I’ll be off on my deserted island at least for a little. They say that publishing is a slow business. It takes plenty of patience, but then so is writing sometimes.

I hope you’re all having a wonder summer and are enjoying this beautiful Nova Scotia sunshine. I’d love to hear what you’ve been doing this summer.

Guest Author Alison DeLory

Today, it is my pleasure to welcome author Alison DeLory to my blog. Alison has written a special post to commemorate Canada Day 2019 and talk about her newly published book, Making it Home.  So without further ado, here’s Alison.


Like many of you, I’ve been uplifted by stories in the news in the past week about Syrian-Canadians graduating from high school—like Batoul Hadhad, the daughter of Peace by Chocolate owners in Antigonish, N.S., and the three Hendawi brothers in Shelburne, N.S. They all came to Canada as teenagers who knew no English and who had missed years of schooling in Syria because of the war there. Once arriving in Canada, they worked hard to recover their lost education and create future opportunities for themselves.

Certainly as we acknowledge Canada Day, many of us proudly think about how our great country makes space for refugees and other immigrants. Yes, Canada should be celebrated for this, but let’s not forget to also acknowledge all that Canada gains, too, from welcoming newcomers. The benefit is two-way. Tens of thousands of Syrian refugees who have come to Canada in the most recent wave have already contributed to the Canada economically and culturally, plus in less measurable but equally (or more) important ways, like expanding our capacity for empathy.

My new novel Making it Home (Nimbus 2019) tells this particular migration story from both angles. While it’s been documented through news stories, I wrote it through a fictional lens. I drew heavily on actual events that took place between 2014 and 2016 as loss of industry was forcing young people off Cape Breton Island, as Alberta’s economic boom began to bust, and as people spilled out of Middle Eastern refugee camps into variously tragic and hopeful circumstances. But fiction allowed me to delve deeper into the lives of imagined people most directly involved in these events.

I wrote the opening scene, involving a mass beaching of pilot whales in Cape Breton, as an assignment for a writing class I was taking in 2015. Once drafted, I thought about the symbolism of the whales, and how they could be a metaphor for being thrown out of one’s natural environment and feeling displaced. Pushing them back into the ocean was a community (epitomized by one family) struggling with an economic imperative to leave Cape Breton, and a desire for things to stay as they were. I saw the potential in the story and kept writing.

A second story line transports readers to Syria where they meet a family forced to flee Aleppo as bombs drop around them. The two families’ situations are on the surface quite different: one is a white, Christian family living in a sleepy rural Nova Scotian village, the other is an Arabic-speaking Syrian Muslim family whose lives are at risk. But at their core the two families are more alike than they seem. Like families the world-over, both share common desires for security, comfort, work and belonging. I wrote this book to discover how these particular characters could affect and possibly help one another heal.

These two parallel migration stories highlight how similar people’s plights are despite their cultural differences. And connecting the stories is the common thread of searching for home. I hope this novel gives readers an opportunity to consider our shared need for home—not only the physical place, but where we feel most secure, valued and ourselves—and to what lengths and distances the desire for home will take people. This journey toward ‘home’ can be physical or emotional, and helping others find their ‘home’ may allow our best selves to emerge.

 Thank you Alison for sharing this with us. I really enjoyed reading about what inspired you to write you book. I’m looking forward to reading it . All the best as you go forward.

 Alison DeLory is a writer, editor, and teacher living in Halifax, currently working at the University of King’s College. She has been writing stories for newspapers, magazines, and digital platforms for 20 years. She’s also written two children’s chapter books and contributed to several anthologies. Making it Home is her first novel.

Making it Home is available now on Amazon, Chapters and bookstores near you.

Ten Years in Blogland

My, how time flies—seems we only say those words once we’ve reached a certain age of maturity.

I’ll soon be coming up to my tenth year of blogging. Yay me! I may not be posting often these days but

I’m still here in blogland. A lot of the bloggers I met over time have abandoned their blogs and I’ve lost touch. Let’s face it, it’s not always easy to come up with content, especially content that others might want to read. It also takes persistence to set aside time to write posts. There was a time when I put more time into my posts than I did actually writing—or at least it felt that way—and that didn’t make sense. So these days, I blog less and write more.  And while I’d like to be blogging a bit more than I am now, at the moment I’m okay with it. Perhaps when the time is right I’ll get back into it a little more.

My daughter set up this blog in the beginning because I hadn’t a clue about any of it. It all seemed so foreign to me. Slowly but surely I started to figure it all out.

In ten years I’ve written 614 blog posts, counting this one. I wonder how many words that would be? enough for a few novel no doubt. 614 feels like a lot, although I know there are many more bloggers out there that would put this number to shame.

This photo was the original header for my blog back in 2009. It was taken at Lake Torment in East Dalhousie.

I believe when many of us start out blogging we think that people will sit at their computers in anticipation of our next published post, that they long to devour our words, our wisdom because what we have to say is just THAT profound. But then reality sets in and we begin to realize that there are a few kind souls out there who regularly read –some out of interest and others perhaps out of pity. I think many of my readers might fall into the pity category—family who feel obligated to read Mum’s blog posts for fear that they may be quizzed at a later date as to what’s new on But hey, I’ll take those “pity hits” and say thank you because I know that it’s not always easy to find time to read and I’m always very appreciative of anyone who does.

So, here’s to the first ten years (Well, not quite yet, but hey, I wanted something to blog about.)

Thank you to all those faithful readers who stop by from time to time and especially to those who take the time to leave a comment. I’m really grateful for your support. 

The End of Hibernation

Oh wow! I fear I have been neglecting my blog this past winter and the three people who faithfully read my blog posts. (Well, hopefully, there are more than three of you, although sometimes I do wonder!)

Winter seemed to fly by, not that I spent the time hibernating. I was busy writing most every day and avoiding housework, I mean, the icy world outside. The only way a story gets written is by faithfully returning to your computer and writing. Alone. Keep your butt in the chair, as some writers will tell you. Well, I can attest to the fact that my chair was well-used these past months.

Writing is such a solitary venture for authors. Some days I wish it wasn’t so. Some days I want to sneak out into the world and see/talk to other people.

But I can’t always do that because the story won’t get written if I do. By the time I get well into a story it keeps me awake at night. It’s my first thought when I wake in the morning. I hear dialogue in my head and wonder: will I remember these bits of conversations between my characters when it comes time to write? I experienced all these things this winter. I call it falling in love with the story all over again.


I’m not writing this post to lament being a writer. It’s who I am. I can’t change that. Take it or leave it, things aren’t going to change in that respect. I love writing.

Now, for some news:

I recently received word that Penelope Jackson will be working with me on the edits for my adult fiction novel, due out in spring 2020. I can’t tell you how that news makes my little heart sing. I worked with her on my last two novels and she’s absolutely wonderful. Although, I’m not sure what to expect with this being my first novel for grown-ups, I’m looking forward to the edits. It will be a busy summer. My publisher wants the ARCs (advance reading copies) ready for early 2020. I’m sure we’ll get there on time. I’ll share the cover when the time is right.

Let’s not forget there’s another book coming in the fall of 2020 as well.

Of course all that doesn’t mean I don’t have other stories I’m working on. In fact, I’ve several that are in various stages of completion. Right now, I need to decide which one is crying out for the most attention. Since story ideas can come at the drop of a hat, I have bits of stories sprinkled through my computer files. Hopefully, they will transform into full-fledged stories in time. There also comes the realization that a writer can only write so fast, produce so much. We’re all individuals in that respect. And there is life beyond writing…There I said it.

So, this post is really just to let you know that I’m around and kicking. I didn’t freeze up during the winter, but I am crawling out into civilization a bit more now that the weather is warming up. Hibernation for this author is officially over.

What have all of you been up to this past winter?


Confessions of a Word Hoarder.

Look at me, finally writing a blog post on this holiday Monday—Heritage Day. I haven’t been hiding, well maybe a little. But I’ve been hiding out at my computer, working on my next book. Knowing that the edits for my spring release in 2020 is coming up I really wanted to get the story I’m working on ready for submission. That takes a lot of writing and revising and deleting. It also takes discipline which isn’t always an easy thing. Working at home there are so many distractions.

Being a writer I’m a self-professed lover of words. Nothing makes me happier than rearranging sentences and paragraphs during the writing process, sometimes it’s a matter of finding the right place for a particular word. I know, I can be a little anal that way.

What I am finding with my current WIP is that the story I originally began with has taken some unexpected turns, making some of what I’d previously written not relevant to the plot.
So what to do? Well, if it doesn’t move the plot along it has to go. Simple to say, not always simple to do.

After some deliberation I determined that a lot of these scenes/chapters needed to go. There was no way around it. It was the right decision to make.

Here’s what I wrote in a recent Facebook post about it.

I deleted two whole chapters today. It’s like going on a diet. I suddenly feel so much lighter. Whee!!

And here’s what a friend’s comment was:

Now, if that were me, I would have to save it in another file “just in case.”

Her comment made me laugh. We were more alike than she knew. Being a word hoarder–you heard me right, word hoarder–I knew right where my friend was coming from.

I can’t throw away my words. As my friend said, “Just in case.” My computer files are full of folders with such titles as: The cut Parts from: Cammie Takes Flight or Flying with a Broken Wing and this new untitled one. I also have files with different versions of the same story. You know, you start out telling the story one way but then suddenly have a change of heart and start all over.( Maybe you’re beginning isn’t the beginning that needed.) I save all those different versions as well. I mean, what if I decide I want to go back to an earlier version, maybe experiment a little more with it?

Parts I cut from the edits of Flying with a Broken Wing found a place in Cammie Takes Flight. Glad I didn’t delete those for good. I have to admit sometimes those deleted words have come in mighty handy. No, I agree with my friend, deleting something forever is not an easy thing to do and as I write that, I feel as though all hoarders have similar excuses.

Of course there are drawbacks from being a word hoarder. Since I tend to have several stories on the go at one time ( Yup that’s right, I have at least half a dozen stories I’ve started over the years and plan to one day get back to) it can be difficult to find the version you’re looking for.

What the heck did I name that file? I know it’s here somewhere. Not in my documents on the computer, how about one of the dozens of thumb drives I have?

You get the picture?

So this is my confession on this holiday Monday. I know there are far worse things to hoard than words. At least it’s something I can hide from the prying eyes of others. There’s nothing messy about a thumb drive in a drawer.

I hope you are enjoying Heritage Day here in Nova Scotia. I spent much of the day at my computer. And you guessed it; I saved this blog post in another file.

Happy Heritage Day or whatever day your province celebrates!

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