A word for a curious mind

Ultracrepidarianism
Have you ever seen a word and thought– I wonder what that means? Maybe I could use that word. Well, here’s one that is a little different. Ultracredpidarianism means ‘the habit of giving advice outside one’s knowledge or competence’. Great word, huh? And it reaches back to 325 AD. It kind of fits with my favourite saying for authors –‘Write what you know!’
I am in the process of writing a memoir called THE HOMESTEAD. Here is an excerpt-

My Parents
Dad’s father, George, was one of twelve children. He was born in Upper Canada and moved with his whole family to the Canadian Prairies when the land opened up for homesteading in the 1880’s and they all claimed land. Dad was born in Sintaluta, southern Saskatchewan. When he was one and a half years old, in February of 1919, his mother, Emily Annie, died of the Spanish flu. George’s mother, Hannah Ruth, my father’s grandmother, died of the flu the following day, and the two funeral services were held at the same time in the local village church. According to one of my cousins who knew George, our grandfather was devastated by these losses, and more or less gave up. However, he continued to farm with his father and his brothers. Each one of them had claimed some land and they used their horses and equipment in a united effort to work the soil. A couple of years later, snow came early to the Prairies. The family had harvested their father’s crop and were working down the list of brothers from oldest to youngest. George was the last brother, and before they got to his land the snow had flattened his crop, demolishing his total income for the year. Unable to pay his taxes, he lost his land, and took his family of six motherless children by train, moving them to Nipawin, in northern Saskatchewan. He set up shop in the small town as a saw and knife sharpener.
Does this resonate with you? Do you have knowledge of homesteading, or setting out into the wilderness to create a farmstead? Send me an email at sylviegraysonauthor@gmail.com to tell me of your experience. I’d love to hear from you.

My joke for you today is a series of questions–

If a man is talking in the middle of a forest with no one to hear him, is he still wrong?

Is there another word for synonym?

Isn’t it a bit unnerving that doctors call what they do ‘practice’?

Would a fly without wings be called a ‘walk’?

What do you do when you see an endangered animal eat an endangered plant? 

Send me your favourite joke so I can use it in my newsletter.

Best,

Sylvie Grayson

A chance to get out of the house?

I finally got back on my bicycle, looking for some fresh air and exercise. It feels great, but have you ever noticed that having a break from activity for a few months means you lose ground? It has been too cold and wet and has only been seasonably warm in the past few weeks. That was enough to encourage me to go out. I know it will take some weeks to get back on track. But for the moment I’m timing my ride, taking fewer breaks each day, and feeling grateful for the chance to be out in the open. Luckily we live in a rural area where we can get out to bike or walk without being met by lockdown problems.

The daffodils are out in full force (above) and I came across a tulip tree (below). The blooms are gorgeous. I know that bush has another name.

What’s blooming in your neck of the woods? (Do people even say that anymore?) Drop me a note and let me know.

THE SOVEREIGN

The Sovereign, Book Seven by Sylvie Grayson

Excerpt of The Last War : Book Seven

Nineteenth began his customary tour around the Banderos territory. Regular workers made their rounds, leaving from the various border stations to patrol the boundaries, but he liked to have a look himself to see what was working, what wasn’t, what had changed since his last tour. He was the nineteenth son of Gerwal Banderos, who had taken control of this unclaimed territory near the end of The Last War, when things were still in an uproar as the Old Empire disintegrated.

Although there had originally been twenty-six Banderos sons, the number was much less now. Each one of them had a job—Scribe, vegetable gardens, patrols, border station duty, bakery, militia. It was a well-organized system that had benefited the whole family.

As Nineteenth Banderos emerged from the forest on his way to the northern border station, he immediately reined his horse to a walk at the alarming sight that appeared in the valley below. His young brothers, Rascal and Runt, were riding behind, accompanying him on his rounds, and he heard the hooves of their mounts slow on the trail. “The Shafoneurs have done it again,” he said, as the herd dogs circled around him.

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Jacquie Biggar book release

When a right-wing militia group infiltrates the area, will DEA Agent Maggie Holt, her partner, Adam O’Connor, and ex-SEAL Chief Frank Stein be able to set aside their differences to stop them before someone dies? And who will Maggie choose, the handsome cowboy, or her charismatic DEA partner?

DEA Agent Maggie Holt knows about Hell…

After eighteen months undercover in a Mexican cartel, Maggie is broken. The kickass agent she once was, is gone, leaving her riddled with guilt and nightmares. Forced to take paid leave, Maggie accepts the offer of a vacation on the ranch of the man who’d rescued her from an almost certain death.

Frank Stein knows the signs of PTSD, he’d suffered the symptoms himself as Chief Petty Officer of SEAL Team Five. Honorably retired from duty, Frank has found peace at the family ranch and hopes it will do the same for Magdalena. Ever since he’d first met her when she was interrogating his buddy, Jared, Frank has been fascinated by the raven-haired beauty and wants the chance to see where their relationship could go.

Adam O’Connor is Maggie’s partner. He knows her. He loved her once and could again, if she’d let him in. But he’s also angry she took the chances she did by going undercover against orders. And now, things are different. She’s different.

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An Adventure on a Bike

With all the lockdowns around us, we try to get outside for a walk or bike ride whenever we can to allow some time out of our house. Usually our choices are limited by the amount of rain coming down.

So this morning, we were fortunate to decide on a bike ride. The forecast had indicated rain, but we woke to no rain, just pretty cold– -1 or -2. We headed out to ride around the airport.

One advantage to the airport circle is it’s all paved, which is a vast improvement over the railroad trails we often bike that are gravelled which means more hard pedalling to cover the distance. The disadvantage is there are more hills than you’d think going around the whole air field. We started out, dressed for the cold with wool scarves, lined gloves, toques under our helmets. For some reason I didn’t have any energy, or lung capacity. I had to stop to catch my breath often.

The sky had a huge dark grey cloud overhanging, which seemed to be following us as we started out. (the picture above was taken on a different day!) Right away it started to sprinkle. If you live on the west coast, you soon learn that a sprinkle is not rain, often you don’t even have to turn on your windshield wipers, but it’s still wet. The sprinkle ramped up until I was almost ready to admit it was raining. That’s when I said, “I think I’ll turn around.” My husband said, “No, we never turn around. Besides it’s the same distance to the truck if you go forward or turn back.” I sighed, admitting he was right.

However, by the time we started up the steepest hill to the copper feathers at the top, it wasn’t raining any more. It was hailing. The heavy grey cloud was low overhead and dumping chips of ice on us. No point in turning around, as we were 3/4 of the way through by then. We reached the top of the hill, coasted down, and roared along the bottom slope to the truck. By the time we reached it, the hail was finished, and there was even some sun showing through a gap in the clouds. Quite an adventure for a little bike ride.

What do you do to keep from isolating so much? Send me a note about how you are coping.