Five Years Later…ater…ater…

Hey everybody,

I hope the week has treated you well. A couple days ago as I was fending off death, AKA “the man flu”, I received an out of the blue notification. When I took a quick peek, it was a little icon like the picture above. It was to remind me of quite the surprising achievement. Now that I am fully recovered, I thought I would use this opportunity to acknowledge it. (cough, cough) 😉

Continue reading “Five Years Later…ater…ater…”

Journal Entry # 150 – Someone Call My Mommy!!!

Hey Everybody,

You may have noticed my lack of content in the last week or so. Sorry about that my friends. I seemed to had contracted a serious strain of the man flu. It’s a thing, trust me…Lol!!

Anyway, after extensive treatment and sookyness, I finally crawled my way back to work today. After a long weekend of rest with an extra sick day thrown in, I am slowly starting to feel myself again. Like summer starts and I get sick, come on, really?

Thanks as always for your patience and stay tuned for more Earth to Ash. Should have something posted in a day or so.

Cough, cough!!!

Until…

Happy National Indigenous Peoples Day!!!

Hey Everyone,

It’s National Indigenous Peoples Day here in Canada, and given that I’m 3rd generation myself, I am dedicating today’s entry to my grandmother. She was Mi’kmaw, and a member of the Miawpukek First Nation. I’m currently a voting member of the reservation band council and have been for many years now.

Continue reading “Happy National Indigenous Peoples Day!!!”

Bike Writer # 25 – This Life is Yours!!

This life is yours. Take the power to choose what you want to do and do it well. Take the power to love what you want in life and love it honestly. Take the power to walk in the forest and be a part of nature. Take the power to control your own life. No one else can do it for you. Take the power to make your life happy. – Susan Polis Schutz

Am I Write? # 3 – I Think, Therefore I am!!

It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moments passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.

– Vita Sackville-West