Standing in the Light – See You Soon! #Blogging Break

The light – something I strive daily to stand under.

I need the light to stay in the light. Does that make sense? When I think of the woes of the world I have to stop myself and take my thoughts right back to where there is light – far away from the darkness. When my grief (at the loss of my beloved) bubbles up as it does daily, I say the words, “I love you honey” out loud. For me that’s a method I’ve been working that helps me get through the trigger moments. When that old grief monster creeps into my head and to scenes of my husband’s dying I shout out my love for him and stop myself from going ‘there’ – to that dark place, and strive to put my brain in happier thoughts. But let me tell you, this dancing around grief ain’t for sissies!

SAD syndrome is real. It certainly doesn’t help with my dark moments. I am someone who is most definitely affected by the lack of light. I’ve recently purchased a Lightbox. Does it help? I’m not feeling the love. No, I want sunshine. I don’t care if it’s snowing with sunny skies or on a tropical island, just give me the light. For me, I feel happy, energetic and just plain motivated when the sun is shining. And the fact that I haven’t even sat in the sun since last winter’s Mexican getaway just exacerbates my need. Last summer, we didn’t have one. Oh yes, we did have a season that has been typically known to be summer, but this past one all we got was sickening humidity with grey covered smokey skies. Ironically, the sun would fight the smoke and stick out its face well after 4pm when the motivation to go out to the sundeck had long passed.

There’s a lot to be said about sunshine and its uplifting benefits as well as giving us well needed Vitamin D, which in this country is sorely lacking for many months a year here, having to supplement with the vitamin. So after one longgggggggg year of being pastey white and praying to the sun gods, I’m thrilled to announce that my winter break with sunshine is finally nearing. If you would have asked me in early December if I’m going away, I would have told you I still wasn’t booked for anything because I couldn’t get a suitably priced condo to rent, and the prices of airfare have gone out of control. So I threw up my arms after putting my wishes out to the universe, and magically, opportunities came to me.

The agent I previously rented from texted me with an offer to rent a brand new condo he just sold to someone, too late in the season to put up for rent, so he called me with a great price offer to rent the condo. In the same week, my good friend Brenda from Manitoba who rents in the condo complex I used to stay at, invited me to come stay with her for two weeks. I told her I wasn’t flying all that expensive way for just two weeks and that I would try and put together an add-on before I got to her place, and the condo my agent offered me fell right in line with the time-frame. And just after I accepted to book the condo for two weeks, my good friend here, Mahvash called me and told me she would join me for the two weeks. So lucky me! I’ll soon be off with Mahvash for what I think will be a very fun and interesting time together, especially since she’s never been anywhere tropical, and then off to Brenda’s to my old stomping grounds right on the beach, for what I know will be filled with laughter – and margaritas – but maybe a gin and tonic for Bren.

So, I am happy to announce that I most certainly am going back to Puerto Vallarta this year for some well-needed sunshine and girlfriend time. I am determined to turn this pastey skin into something more sun-kissed. My camera is ready at the helm with all its new features and I look forward to taking some fun and spectacular photos to share with you upon my return. Until then, I’m signing off here on the blog and will resume blogging later next month. As always, I will still be checking comments here and although I won’t be reading blogs during my break on any kind of regular schedule, don’t be surprised if I show up here and there in some quieter moments.

Take me away Calgon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

©DGKaye2024

Sunday Book Review – Double Headliner – Nirmala: The Mud Blossom by Fiza Pathan and Amina: The Silent One by Fiza Pathan

Welcome to my Sunday Book Review. Today I’m sharing my reviews for two books by Fiza Pathan - Nirmala: The Mud Blossom and the follow-up story of Nirmala’s best friend – Amina: The Silent One. These two short fictional stories read all too well about life for these poor Indian girls existing and struggling to survive as poor girls living in the slums of Mumbai. Nirmala was disposed of at two days old into a dumpster, found and returned to her parents, and the horrible life she endured just because she was born a female. Amina the musical child prodigy had an arranged marriage that turned into a bigger hell than she grew up in. I applaud Pathan for sharing the hardships so many poor Indian women endure under the thumb of patriarchal brutality.

“I’m a mud blossom, and the mud is my home. I was not born from my mother, but from the dustbin.”
Book Synopsis:
This story is about Nirmala the Mud Blossom, who had the misfortune of being born female in Mumbai. Rejected and thrown into the dustbin when she was just two days old, the child was rescued and returned to her family by the NGOs.
Nirmala is ill-treated by her mother and subject to violence at her hands. She is allowed to continue her studies only because she can coach her younger brothers, as her parents are illiterate. On one occasion her mother brutally beats her when she is caught reading David Copperfield instead of doing the household chores; on another, she is struck for voicing her dreams of becoming a doctor. Loving school and the access it gives her to books she relishes, Nirmala accepts each beating with forbearance.
What will happen to this little mud blossom? Will she fight back or succumb? How can she rid herself of harassment and rise above the stigma she endures?
Nirmala: The Mud Blossom graphically depicts the travails, discrimination, and abuse faced by female children in India from the cradle to the grave.

One cannot help but feel the sadness in their hearts for Nirmala, a beautiful Indian girl treated like shit all her life from birth, right through to her life growing up in a family where women were nothing except to nurture and birth males, to her arranged marriage to a man obsessed with having a son at any cost. This poor girl has taken the brunt of what her societal beliefs had doled out on her.

Pathan is an engaging storyteller, bringing this heart-wrenching story to us, demonstrating the horrendous way females are treated in India by taking us into one fictional story that gives us a bird’s eye view of living as a female and the way society and their families treat them. From the time Nirmala was born and thrown into a dustbin and retrieved only by force to her parents, her destiny was a life of hardship. Living in a one-room slum, mud hut, her lot in life was to help educate her younger brothers who had much more value to her parents than she, while being subjected to regular beatings by her mother for any talk related to a future for Nirmala and her desire to become a doctor. Her parents allowed her to graduate grade ten only because they were illiterate and needed Nirmala to help tutor her brothers who would one day be able to provide their parents with dowries in marriage.

The story continues when Nirmala is matched up with a husband, and goes to live with his family in a two-room dwelling. But Nirmala’s husband has great ambitions for a son born, and when she produces three daughters, husband is ready to go beserk until he finds someone who can aid him with ultra sounds and abortions every time after his wife got pregnant and it wasn’t a boy. And after every unsterile abortion Nirmala endured and many beatings from her husband for not producing a son, more beatings followed. Nirmala succumbs and surrenders to what her life has become and loses her desire to fight back.

This short book packs a powerful punch on social injustice and the heinous way females are treated as told by the tender Mud Blossom, Nirmala. A story that will stay with you long after it’s read. I am now compelled to read Pathan’s follow-up book, Amina: The Silent One as Amina was a Muslim musical prodigy childhood friend of Nirmala’s who grew up in the slums down the street from Nirmala, also destined for a brutal life.

xxx

Amina: The Silent One is the story of a musical prodigy born in the slums of Mumbai and her journey into hell. Born to Jaffer and his wife, Amina is their third female child, and they want to get rid of her. But sage advice from a professor of history changes their minds. This is the story about how poverty, sexual debasement, and sexual abuse is meted out to Amina, and how music can sometimes melt a heart of stone. Can Amina overcome the poverty she’s been born into, her second-class status as a woman, and the sexual abuse she is made to withstand? Or will she sink into anonymity? This novella will get under your skin and stay with you for years to come.

After reading Pathan’s Nirmala: The Mud Blossom and being introduced to Nirmala’s good friend Amina, I felt compelled to read the story of Amina, the musical prodigy, the little Muslim girl living in the slums of Mumbai. Amina was the third daughter born to Jaffar and his wife, and her lot in life wasn’t looking so good as females didn’t count for much in the culture. The only thing that made Amina happy was playing her flute – just one of the three instruments she had a gift for playing.

As the story begins we’ll learn that the coldest heart in that family was grandmother Khadijah who did her best to break any dreams of a future of the desires of Amina and her two older sisters. All that mattered to her was Jaffar’s wife needed to produce a male heir so they could collect a dowry, and the concern that the girls could never marry because the family couldn’t afford a dowry for them. Women were treated like doormats, punching bags, and a selection of other abuse. In fact, Amina’s mother is never mentioned by her name, only as ‘Jaffar’s wife’. The degradation was palpable as my heart went out to young Amina, in particular.

One evening, Amina’s mother was taking her five daughters to the movie house to watch a movie about Mozart, a real treat for Amina. Only, Amina didn’t make it home in time and was left back. At first I felt it was a cruel trick until the story heated up and that particular night there was wild violence and bombings in the city, and all the movie houses were attacked, leaving many casualties. As Jaffar worried where his wife and kids were as the hours passed, he got the news on the street what had happened.

My heart went out to Jaffar as he recovered the five dead bodies of his wife and four daughters and screamed to Allah for what has happened to his family, and he cried out the name of his sweet wife, Rahat. The first time we learn her name.

As the years pass Amina’s grandmother’s mission was to marry her off, as is the norm. Her father had zero intentions of allowing Amina to study music at the university, despite a family friend, Dr. Sheikh, offering to get her into a musical program for free. And Khadijah was on a mission to get Amina married. So poor Amina was given to marry Iqbal right after finishing grade 10, at the tender age of sixteen. With a swift marriage and moving in with Iqbal and his mother, Amina’s horrible life got worse. Khadiljah was so happy to get some rupees as a dowry that nobody even bothered checking out his background or even meeting the groom. Young Amina’s husband was a sex-trafficker with his mother as the bandleader of operations.

My heart sank for the beautiful Amina and the horrors she was subjected to. But after a few years of being held as a sex slave, Amina finally escapes, bringing us to a much happier ending, despite her horrendous life prior to her great escape.

©DGKaye2024

Writer’s Tips – February Edition – #Blog Safety, #Amazon #Keywords, Ebook Author Fees, How to Add Slides to Video, and Self-Publishing in 2024

Welcome to my February edition of of my Writer’s Tips where I like to share articles I’ve found helpful for the writing and blogging world. In this post: Hugh Roberts has a WordPress Safety feature he’s sharing with us as well as tips for ‘anonymous’ comments, Deborah Jay shares a sneaky way Amazon charges fees on both readers and authors for an ebook, Natalie Ducey is back with another helpful tutorial on How to add Slides to a Video, Anne R. Allen writes about changes in Self-Publishing for 2024, the Kindlepreneur shares secrets about best Keywords to use when publishing our own books, and Diana Peach writing for the Story Empire on Tightening our Prose.

©DGKaye2024

#Bloganuary Prompt – Write About Your First Name, its Significance, Etymology, etc.

What’s in a name? I thought this was a fun #Bloganuary prompt from #Wordpress, asking us to write about the meaning and significance of our first name. It made me think, hmm, what about the name some wanted to give for me but were shot down by my mother? To be honest, I have so many names people call me by that Debby is quite a rare one.

About my name, I was formally named Deborah Elaine, but when I was a child, hearing my mother use my full name, alerted me that I was in trouble yet again. She was the only one who ever called me Deborah, and that wasn’t a good thing. Don’t even get me started on growing up and through the school years teachers couldn’t get my name spelled correctly, always assuming I was Debbie instead of Debby. The trend has continued throughout my life with a few exceptions – like best friends and those who know me well all get that my name ends in a ‘y’ not an ‘ie’. But if my paternal orthodox grandmother would have had her way, my name would have been Esther. Just no! And a nod to my mother for sticking to her guns and winning that name war.

I have no idea where the idea of the name Esther came into play, but being that my grandmother was quite religious, Esther was a queen in the bible who was an orphan raised by her uncle Mordechai who was taken to serve Persian King Ahasuerus in his harem. The king fell in love with her above all others and made her his queen. Esther did not love the king and endured six years of rape by him. When she learned that the Prime Minister Haman had made an edict to kill all Jews in the Persian empire, she conspired with her uncle to warn the king. When the king found out, he had Haman killed and made Mordechai the new prime minister. This story has to do with the Jewish holiday, Purim. So how did I end up with the name Deborah?

In the Jewish tradition, babies are named after dead lost loved ones – never named for someone still living. My mother’s mother died when my mother was barely fourteen years old, her name was Dorothy. I was the first born so I should have been named Dorothy, except, my mother was the youngest child among her siblings and two of my aunts had already named their daughters Dorothy. Keeping with the initial ‘D’, I became Deborah. The middle name, Elaine, was a sort of meeting of halfways between my mother and grandmother and Elaine was as close to Esther and as far as my grandmother’s wish got. In the Jewish religion, the Hebrew name of Deborah is D’vorah, which translates into ‘bee’. Deborah was a prophetess in the Book of Judges from the Old Testament. Does that make me a Queen Bee? I’m not sure, but watch out for my stinger. 🙂

Funny enough, the only time I still get called by my formal name is at a doctor’s office – or the like, filling out forms, I become addressed as Deborah. It still gets under my skin as I remember nobody calls me by that name except when my mother was hollering at me. Some things just stick.

Besides the naming of me, I have several nicknames given to me throughout my lifetime – some endearing, some cringe-worthy. I won’t get into all of those or why (family pet names and some not so pet friendly). To my beloved husband I was always Cub or Cubby to him. He came up with the name spontaneously on our third date. I can count on one hand how many times he called me Deb (never Debby) in the twenty-five years we were together. But suffice it to say, names that still linger are dubbed by my two besties – one calls me Nor, the other calls me Booben. Perhaps one day I’ll share where those strange names came from!

©DGKaye2024

Sunday Book Review- Say Yes to Everything by Michele Northwood #Christmas Comical #Romance

Today I’m reviewing a book I was gifted by Michele Northwood, perfect for a lazy holiday season, beach read or rainy day – Say Yes to Everything. Michele offered me a copy and although I’m not much of a romance reader, I did enjoy this fun and sweet story over the holidays.

Kate Massey has lost her Christmas spirit.

No mince pies, mistletoe, and merriment for her this year! She’s back at home, living with her parents, with no money, no job, and no man.

Alison, her private detective sister, believes Kate needs to get out of the house and broaden her horizons, so she challenges her to a deal. If Kate agrees to wear a hidden microphone and says yes to everything, until New Year’s Day, Alison will set her up in a flat and get her out from under her parents’ feet.

Kate agrees, and Alison drags her to the job centre. Once there, she encounters Mike, a grumpy civil servant and ex-classmate who is pricklier than a sprig of holly and holds a grudge worse than the Grinch. He gets her a job interview to be a pixie in the local shopping centre, hoping to reap his revenge.

As the countdown to the holiday season continues, Mike expects her to fail. But Kate’s new job and her obligation to say yes to everything opens more doors than she could ever imagine, even though not all of them are positive.

Can Kate keep her promise to her sister, step out of her comfort zone, find herself and fall in love, or will life have other plans for Kate Massey the cute Christmas pixie?

This was a sweet escape read perfect for the holidays, or anytime really. Kate is in the dumps living back at home after a boyfriend breakup, and her mother Dorothy is always trying to motivate her to get out of the house and get a job. Her sister Alison helps Kate get a job, which turns out as becoming a pixie at Santa’s booth in a shopping mall. There she meets some likeable and unlikeable fellow Santa workers. Kate is always mic’d when out because she must say ‘yes’ to everything anyone asks of her in order to get her own apartment as promised by her detective sister Alison; a ploy to get Kate out of her funk. But saying yes to everything isn’t always easy.

Kate’s boss Ivan asks her out on a date, the same night Kate’s parents have arranged a blind date for her. Because she can’t say no, she begrudgingly agrees to go on the blind date and blatantly tells Ivan she’d love to go out with him on another night because she had to go on the blind date. Eventually, Kate and Ivan hit it off, but not without many interruptions in their quest to form a relationship. Most of the trouble is caused by Mike, both a disgruntled trouble-making neighbor, and a mall employee, and still smarting from Kate who refused him at a high school dance, now jealous of all the attention Kate is garnering at her job. And it seems that with every good deed Kate does, Mike finds a way to twist it to make Kate look bad.

Mike is the antagonist in this story, one we’d love to smack in the head as he foils all Kate’s good doings. Despite Ivan being a good match for Kate, I didn’t like that he gets duped every time Mike pulls another lie about Kate and Ivan believes Mike without proof until Kate has to prove that she wasn’t responsible for whatever Mike did to set her up, not giving her the benefit of the doubt first. Nobody needs these types of men. But as the story continues to unfold, it turns out Ivan is a good guy, and Kate gets an education on people, love, and trust.

©DGKaye2024

Smorgasbord Posts from Your Archives 2024 #Potluck – #Pronunciation Say my Name, Say my Name by D. G. Kaye | Smorgasbord Blog Magazine #reblog

I’m reblogging Sally Cronin’s new series at her Smorgasbord where Sally forages through our archives and chooses a post to share on her blog. Sally kicked off the series with my post about names and the varied mispronunciations.

Welcome to the new series of Posts from Your Archives and I will be sharing posts from the SECOND six months of 2023 from your archives.

If you wish to be included the information is at the the end of the following post which is from the previous series, and shows you what it will look like.

In this first post by D.G. Kaye, she explores how her names have resulted in some energetic tongue twisting….

Who?

What’s in a name? Better yet, why are some names so confusing for some people to pronounce, no matter how simple?

Do you know anyone for almost a lifetime who still doesn’t know how to spell your name?

How about having a four-letter last name that people cannot only not spell correctly, but also mispronounce? Even better, my first name is spelled wrong by over 90% of people who formally correspond with me, that would be Debby, not Debbie.

Ya, that be me. And to think that all through my school years – elementary through high school, when I’d cringe at roll calls because it seemed no teacher of mine ever seemed to know how to pronounce my last name back then too. I used to dream about the day I’d marry to kick away my maiden name to one that someone could say correctly – or spell for that matter.

Back in the school days, my family name was Kushnir. This is pronounced ‘Kush – as cushion, nir – as in nerd without the d’. But sadly, I never heard it pronounced correctly. It always sounded like ‘Kush – as in, rhymes with lush, and nir – as in, rhymes with fear’. I could never wrap my head around it, especially from teachers, I would have expected better. So everyday at roll call I’d suck it up and prepare for humiliation as the letter K approached. The kids who found it funny would think of some more embarrassing versions and rhymes – like ‘tush’. I’d dream of the day I could change my name, but never figured four simple letters would be a condundrum for so many.

What?

So, I get married, and happily take on what I thought was my husband’s simple and short last name. I thought, alas, a simple four-letter name. Not. It turns out, the last name Gies is a puzzle or a mouthful for many. . . please visit Sally’s blog for the conclusion.

©DGKaye2024

Source: Smorgasbord Posts from Your Archives 2024 #Potluck – #Pronunciation Say my Name, Say my Name by D. G. Kaye | Smorgasbord Blog Magazine