nonamedufus

P..J. over at a lil 'hoohaa has outdone himself this month with the November theme of where the streets have no name . I mean really? C'mon, I mean wherever I go all the streets have "noname". They don't call me nonamedufus for nothing. So, like, this month's challenge is a no-brainer for me. Which is probably a good thing because I'm challenged at the best of times. So here I am (noname, remember) on a street in Old  Montreal. Look at the outline if the house on the side of that building over my shoulder. A house with no name! Here's another street with noname in Montreal. It's actually rue St Paul Ouest, across the street from Stash Cafe which serves the best Polish food in Montreal. This street with noname is down the street from where I live. This was the second week of November and it was so cold noname donned a toque. According to that post over my shoulder I'm under surveillance. Now, enough selfies. Here's

As she lay there, still, she lifted her heavy eyelids against the morning sun shining brightly through the sheer curtains. Her blond hair, once lovely, long and plentiful, lay splashed across the pillow, not for the first time but until now they had been under far better and much more memorable  circumstances. Her body was ravaged by cancer and pain. Over the last few months it had gotten worse, much worse. "I've had a good life" she nevertheless thought to herself, with a smile playing upon her chapped lips. "A very good life" she thought although she was only thirty-six. And yet at such a difficult time she thought back on many positive things. A favourite song by the Beatles. A favourite book by R..J. Ellory. A favourite movie about that gardner fellow who, through a series of misunderstandings, rubbed shoulders with the elite of society. And she thought of all the men in her life. She had never married. But she was by no means what some might call a

And for my American friends who give thanks a month after we Canadians did...

As he warmed his hands by the roaring fire following a successful hunt Thor thought about his charmed life. He and is family and friends had come a long way since their great-grandparents fled the  Garden of Eden. Loin cloths kept them modest and furs kept them warm and apples kept them healthy. Thor's brother Bert had come up with a name for their tribe. He called them cave men because, duh, they spent a lot of time living in caves. It would be hundreds of years, nay thousands, before females would be referred to as cave women. The tribe was indebted to his uncle George who, scraping a stick across rocky ground, had accidentally invented fire and had accidentally set their huts on fire. But that's another story. The warmth from the blaze was great but the gang was waiting to see who might come up with the first frying pan. And maybe a coffee pot. But we're getting ahead of ourselves, thought Thor. Someone had to invent bacon and coffee first. His sister, Beautiful

If there were a 12-Step program for Amazon he'd be the first in line. Not that he'd enrol in the program voluntarily, mind you. But his wife would be sure to sign him up. It's amazing the number of CDs and books a person can buy in a month. It's quite possible he's broken the record. He loves to read. And while he reads he loves listening to music. Many of the books he buys are e-books and thus largely invisible. They don't take up space on a bookshelf. They're only accessible on his iPad. And only accessible to him. But his music on the other hand is something else. He's not a big fan of digital music so he orders very little down-loaded music on iTunes. Instead he orders actual CDs. The single discs aren't really a   problem *he says smugly*. It's the multi-disc collections that stand out like a sore thumb. "Where did that come from" she'll inquire. "Oh, that?" he'll reply. "I thought I told you I ord

Charlie was despondent. For over three weeks now he'd sat at his desk staring at the blank white screen of his computer. And yet, he'd thought of everything but the task at hand. He'd filled out his grocery list. He'd planned his television programming for the month. He'd even thought about his upcoming date with Evelyn. But he'd not been able to create one sentence of his novel. Jack, Charlie's room-mate would laugh each time he passed by in the hall. He'd laugh on his way to his bedroom. He'd laugh on his way to the kitchen. And Charlie was about ready to blow his stack. And then, on one trip down the hall, Jack stopped in the doorway and said to Charlie "How's the great novel coming?" "Not so well" replied Charlie, sadly. "Maybe you need a break. You need to get outside. Hit up a bar for a drink. See a movie. Something." said Jack. "No" said Charlie. "I have so many thoughts swirling in