Children/YA/Family, Health, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Travel, Writing

Notable Quotes June 2017 Part Two #pinterest #quotes


More quotes for you again, hope you enjoy and remember that just because some quotes say “she” doesn’t mean they can’t apply to “he” in many situations. 

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1. 

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2. 

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3. 

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4. 

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5. 

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6. 

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7. 

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8. 

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9. 

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10.

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11. 

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13. 

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14. 

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15. 

Credit: http://www.pinterest.com

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Children/YA/Family, Event, Memories/Childhood, Music and Performers, Music Review, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Religion/Morality, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: The Cat Came Back #3LineTales #nonfiction #music #memories


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales 

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Credit: Timothy Meinberg via UnSplash

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If you grew up in Canada you knew who the children’s entertainer Fred Penner was. Everybody knows and loves Fred Penner and his singing of our favourite kid’s songs such as “The Cat Came Back.” I was thrilled to have seen him live from about ten meters away on stage at a TEDTALK’S conference where I live in 2013; his message — music can save and change lives! 

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“The Cat Came Back” by Fred Penner

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“The Cat Came Back” by Fred Penner

*****

Old Mister Johnson had troubles of his own

He had a yellow cat who wouldn’t leave its home

He tried and he tried to give the cat away

He gave it to a man goin’ far, far away.

*****

But the cat came back the very next day

The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

*****

Now the man around the corner swore he’d kill the cat on sight
He loaded up his shotgun with nails and dynamite

He waited and he waited for the cat to come around

Ninety seven pieces of the man is all they found.

*****

But the cat came back the very next day
The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

*****

He gave it to a man going up in a balloon
He told him for to take it to the man in the moon

The balloon came down about ninety miles away

Where he is now, well I dare not say.

*****

But the cat came back the very next day

The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

*****

So he gave it to a man going way out West
Told him for to take it to the one he loved the best

First the train hit the curve, then it jumped the rail

Not a soul was left behind to tell the gruesome tale.

*****

But you now what?

But the cat came back the very next day
The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

*****

Now the cat was a possessor of a family of its own

With seven little kittens till there came a cyclone

Blew the houses all apart and tossed the cat around

The air was full of kittens, and not a one was ever found.

*****

But the cat came back the very next day

The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

Sing it all again!

*****

But the cat came back the very next day

The cat came back, they thought he was a goner

But the cat came back; he just couldn’t stay away.

(Give me a miao. Miaoooo!)

Louder Miao (Miaoooo!)

Louder (Miaoooo!)

Little quiter

Quiter miao (Miaoooo!)

quiter (Miaoooo!)

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing, Writing Challenges

First Line Friday: Fiction – Stenham House #amwriting #fiction #FLF


Thanks to Dylan of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s FLF.

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Credit: http://bigproof.ru

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“Stenham house was an ancient locked thing and nothing returned there except for crows.” 

Lost in the forest Marybeth was charmed by the crumbling facade of the ancient mansion. She wondered what the house looked like on the inside as she slipped through the rungs of a creaky black gate.

“What’r you doin’ here, Marybeth?” her older brother Winston cried, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

“Mom’s worried. Said you’d been out so long she was ‘fraid you were lost in the woods for good. You know you’re too young to be out here alone.”

“What’s in there?” Marybeth asked Winston pointing to Stenham house. 

” You don’t want ta go there, ” Winston said matter-of-factly. “Tommy Johnson went in there and never came out the same. He’s a touched now.”

“Well he still lives in the neighborhood,” Marybeth argued. “I see him at school. He doesn’t play with the other kids much but sits in a corner and reads. There’s nothing wrong with that. What happened in that house?”

Winston shook his head, “You’ll have nightmares Marybeth, I can’t tell you. Mom’ll kill me.”

“S’okay I’m a big girl now. I’m seven. I can handle it.”

Winston sighed,”They say a family was murdered there. An axe murder came in and hacked them all to pieces. Grandma, Grandpa, the parents, and worst of all the children. There were four of them and the oldest was eleven.”

Marybeth gasped, “That’s bad. I saw the curtains moving I think someone still lives there.”

“There was a fifth child, he was a tot. The nanny hid him but was butchered herself. Even though the little guy was adopted, he always woke up with nightmares about the murder, even as an adult,” Winston whispered. 

” He lives there now, I think.” 

“He decide to live there when he ‘came  an adult. It was the only way he could face his demons. That’s what Aunt Sally told me.”

“Does Aunt Sally know him?”

“Yeah, they were in the same grade.”

Suddenly the front door to the delapitated house flew upon. Winston and Marybeth saw a gaunt middle aged man standing at the entrance. He motioned them over but then the crows began to fly and circle around the children, diving at them and pecking them when they tried to reach out to the man. 

Marybeth screamed batting at crows as she ran all the way back home to the safety of her mother’s arms. Winston followed his sister, his screams even more terrified. 

He swore to his sister, later, he saw the man at the door to Stenham mansion disappear into thin air. Marybeth believed him and decided to stay away from Stenhem house until she was older and wiser. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.  

Children/YA/Family, History, Movie Reviews, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Synchronicity Poetry - 8,8,2, -- surprise ending last 2 stanzas, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: Poem – Synchronicity – “Worth Teeth” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

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Credit: Carson Arias via UnSplash

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It’s called a Lego graveyard,

A container full of beheaded,

Small men —

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A variety of pleasant looks,

Others with face’s of ire,

 No heads.

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The girl and boy they build fast,

Tear bodies from heads not knowing, 

Bad thoughts. 

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A pile of joy for building kids, 

A sight of horror for parents;

Gold teeth. 

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As Nazi’s removed in death camps, 

Nothing dulls pain of Jewish soul; just —

Worth teeth. 

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A few years ago I saw an excellent movie made by and including George Clooney and some of the regular actors found in his movies — Matt Dameon (etc.) called The Monuments Men. “The film follows an Allied group from the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program that is given the task of finding and saving pieces of art and other culturally important items before Nazis destroy or steal them, during World War II (Wikipedia). 

One of the aspects of the film that overwhelmeingly struck me as awful was as these men went into underground mines and other places the Nazi’s hid priceless artwork, were barrels full of teeth with gold fillings that had been pulled from Jewish Concentration camp prisoners. This is just one mote terrible act of numerous actions done to Jewish prisoners slated to die by Nazis in death camps. Upon researching this, I found the practice by Nazi’s to be accurate even within the context of the movie.  I read that in some cases, the Nazi soldiers forced other prisoners to do this job form them and no pain numbing drugs or even alcohol was provided. 

As well, the movie is based on a fictitious novel but the story itself is based off of real life events that are to some extent historically accurate. In the film, these American men who reclaimed the art work left the gold filled teeth and of course that was the right thing to do. Anyways, in my warped mind, those barrels full of gold teeth fillings are what these lego heads reminded me of — sorry for the imagery! 

This article The Monuments Men (2014) compares the movie and the real life Monument’s men. It answers some interesting questions about WWII Nazi History and Hitler’s reasons behind stealing such a wealth of art.  

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reseved. 

alouette, Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Food/Recipes, Health, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Poem – Alouette –  “Papa’s Hands” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Photo Challenge prompt. 

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Credit: NEKNEERAJ- MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

——–We sit at home eat,

Soft pasta with meat. 

Mama taught me to make food. 

I was a child small,

She yelled and she called —

Me  — incapable and rude.

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They weren’t angry words. 

But words of fear learned. 

Didn’t want to test Papa, 

She wanted perfect, 

He wanted perfect.

None desired his open hand. 

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At such a thing as,

Messed up pasta.

A girl couldn’t help, she learned — 

To make it right or —

Face rage for bad food. 

Mistakes, not to make, she yearned. 

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But no one’s perfect,

And she preferred.

To leave home with her husband.

With two small children,

Became immigrants. 

Living with hope in new land. 

—–

Shops in a district,

Cultural foods listed. 

Buys groceries for family. 

As do her neighbours.

Here are diverse words.

By leaps she sees life expands. 

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The whole family’s glad,

No one’s smacked or mad. 

Homeland missed but no regrets. 

She holds her baby, 

Of two, to her face.

Smiles and says, “I’ve no regrets.”

—–

Her child won’t have to —

Cook or be perfect. 

Or be slapped to the floor, 

 By Grandpa who thought, 

It’s how girl’s learned; not

That his hands bruised and abused. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Fiction – Your Flamhsures are Showing #fiction #amwritimg #taleweavers 


To begin with I want share with you an amazing blog post from the writer Kristen Lamb. I would have rebogged,  it was not able to so here is the link to one of her latest posts called Shame, Shame, We Know Your Name — Or Do We? Shame in Fiction. If you are fiction writer it’s a great piece on how shame motivates most characters in many stories and novels. Also follow her blog: Kristen Lamb Author, Blogger, Social Media Jedi for practical and honest advice on writing. 

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Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weavers writing prompt. Today’s prompt is to write making sense of ‘Nonsense’ and use the word flamhsures in a poem or story as a verb or a noun. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie – Michael 

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“You can’t go to school with your flamhsures showing,” Mina told her young son Todd. 

He looked at her and rolled his eyes. For an eight-year old he had become too cool for his parents. It seemed to Mina that kids were growing up so fast these days and that it was a shame they were. 

Mina watched Todd from the front door as he walked to bus to attend third grade. She sighed knowimg how embarrassed Todd would be as his flamhsures were still visible. 

She knew the other kids would make fun of Todd at school for this so Mina quickly walked to the end of her driveway yelling: “Todd come back here a moment. I need to ask you something.” 

Todd turned his head a moment and rolled his eyes at Mina. She dreaded the day that lay before him. She knew Todd arrive home upset and tearful. Mina wondered if he would still let her comfort him or if he would run to his room and yell at her after his bad day. 

In some ways he was no different than his father Thomas when he was in a bad mood. Mina loved her husband but when he was upset he could be cold and distant. She was afraid that their eight-year old had inherited these traits as opposed to Thomas’s better traits. He was a good Dad and a good husband but just as Mina, Thomas had his faults too. 

When he dropped by home to have lunch with her Thomas excitedly told her about his newest project as an architect and she told him about the latest painting she had been commissioned to do. She also mentioned Todd and his flamhsures showing. 

Thomas smiled, “Todd’s a big boy. He’s almost nine and he has to learn somethings for himself. He may have a terrible day because he didn’t listen to his mother but tomorrow he’ll know better because he’ll have learned.” 

Mina sighed covering her face with her hands, “It’s difficult to think of him as more than the little guy he was such a short while ago. He is still so young and it bothers me that that kids can be so mean to others kids.” 

Thomas comforted Mina holding her close and kissing her softly before heading out the door and back to work. Mina watched Thomas leave, perturbed when she saw his flamhsures were visible too. He didn’t hear her call out as he was already on his phone and back in work mode. 

When Todd came home from school he ran in the door smiling. Mina approached talking to him with care, “It looks like you had a good day Todd? What did you do at school today?” 

Todd rolled his eyes, “Oh the usual. Some math, some writing, gym, and recess. We played soccer at recess I like playing soccer.” 

“That’s good maybe you want to play in the spring and summer again?” 

“Maybe,” Todd says shrugging. “Can I have a snack? Some cookies?” 

“Only if you have some fruit with your cookies. Did anything bad happen today, Todd?”

“Not really, Mom.” 

“Well, I was just wondering because when I called you back from the bus it was because your flamhsures were still showing and I didn’t want you to be embarrassed at school.” 

Todd giggled, “Well I didn’t really notice but then some girl pointed it out and I thought I would get made fun of but then two other boys said their flamhsures were showing too and everyone laughed. Then all the boys made their flamhsures show and we all decided to play soccer.” 

Mina giggled, “Well I’m happy to hear that. Let’s hope your father has a similar good story. He came home for lunch and his flamhsures were visible too as he went back to work. Let’s hope he isn’t embarrassed either.” 

Todd laughed eating his cookie, “Things like that don’t bother men, Mom. Look at me I’m a man and I survived. Dad will be good too.” 

Mina tried to hold back her laughter, “So you’re a man now? Not my little guy, even at home?” 

Todd grinned, “Yep, I’m a man.” 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Children/YA/Family, Fiction, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

100 Word Wednesday: The New Teacher #amwriting #flashfiction #racism 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday. 

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Credit: William Stett via UnSplash

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It’s 1962 and Miss Parker’s exotic beauty temporarily shocks her grade seven class into silence. She has lovely dark skin and striking eyes lined with kohl. The boys are held speechless by her attractive appearance. Her bold cranberry lipstick and a fashionably revealing outfit are what her female student’s desire to wear.

Her student’s realize how interesting, knowledgable, and outgoing their new teacher is and walk home each day telling their parents Miss Parker is wonderful. The parents are thrilled for their children. 

Nevertheless, things change when the parent’s realize at parent teacher interviews, Miss Parker is black woman. Race was not a feature of Miss Parker their children noticed as racism is not ingrained within a child — it is taught. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Animals/Pets, Books, Children/YA/Family, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The White Prince #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW,

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Credit: © 2013 Ioniangraphics

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He walked through the frozen world elated. The trees were silent and still as ice coated their needles. He was satisfied with what he saw, with winter’s permanent hold on this world. He preferred the isolation and tranquility he found in blizzards that howled and the quietness of a world blanked in thickness of snow afterwards. 

Every day he walked through his Winter Wonderland satisfied that it’s inhabitants remained mostly indoors, only venturing outside when they had to. Life was a vicious battle for survival here and he was proud to have been the one who initiated this struggle. 

Then one morning he walked outside and heard the triumphant roar of a lion; he shivered in fear. He had not heard that roar for milannias. It was the roar that had silenced his mother, that belonged to the beast who ripped out her throat. He felt overly warm, used to frigid cold, feeling furious when he saw that overnight the pine needles of the trees had been freed from their ice cage. The lion roared again and the white prince ran. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Children/YA/Family, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Writing Prompt: Fiction – First Time Two Stepping In Front of a Crowd #amwriting #nonfiction 


Thanks to Oloriel of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s prompt on doing something for the first time. 

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When I was in university my friends and I enjoyed going to country bars often. If you ask many woman they will tell you how country singers, male or female, have a kind of talent you can’t fake. They have genuinely wonderful voices as most of them can sing with nothing but a guitar. Moreover, a country song is the best song to dance too whether it’s an upbeat tune or a tear-jerker ballad to slowly dance along with. I was and am also a big fan of line dancing, it’s a lot easier to catch onto than two stepping for me.

 I have always had trouble two-stepping because I find it difficult to keep in time — despite playing piano for ten years. Several times I remover thinking I finally understood the rhythm of two-stepping and than the next time my friends and I went out, I’d find I could no longer do the correct steps. Maybe I had to be drunk too do it? I’m not sure but usually I faked it as best as I could. I can do some basic two stepping moves — some simple steps, turns, and twists but I always ended up messing up the rhythm and stepping on my partners feet. My biggest fear was being pulled onto the dance floor alone with a guy, forced to two step in front of a crowd as some of my girl friends had had happen quite a few times. Not surprisingly, however, the best two-steppers can make a terrible dancer appear as a decent one. 

On one occasion I was out at a country bar with a bunch of girl friends and the night was winding down. The last energetic set of songs were being played by the DJ and a hot bartender who had been giving me eye all night , pulled me onto the dance floor twisting and turning me, even picking me up and making me squeal. I was embarrassed because I knew I sucked at two stepping. Had it been a slow song at least I could have gotten by with a simple waltz and faked two-stepping. 

Instead, I was at the center of attention in the bar being thrown into the air, swished off the dance floor, spun, and turned by this bartender who was an amazing dancer and always kept us moving to the right rhythm. We remained dancing for about three songs and even though I kept messing up, the bartender only laughed and kept moving me in such a way that my mistakes were not obvious. It was exhilarating and dizzying as we moved speedily from one end of the dance floor to another, back and forth, than again. 

Finally I had enough as the upbeat songs became slow dance songs and the bar was emptying out as last call had passed much earlier. Everyone around the dance floor clapped as the bartender escorted me to the place he was tending bar. He winked at me and poured me a drink before we clinked glasses. A minute later the bartender was called away and I slipped out cabbing home with my friends who teased me knowing I hate being the centre of attention when I’m clueless. It might have been nice to talk more with the bartender, but we had all drunk a lot and were falling asleep in the early morning hours. 

Having to do something like that in front of a crowd, something I was terrible at, was a first for me. But a sexy bartender and his amazing two stepping skills saved my inept dancing in front of a lot of people. As it was, I’m pretty sure most of the crowd was too drunk to note my missed steps and my high heels on the bartenders poor feet. 

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“We Were Us” – Keith Urban featuring Miranda Lambert

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, My Thoughts, Nature, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Nasty Courtyard Neighbours #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW,

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Credit: Yarnspinner 

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Our condo building has many square courtyards that can be purchased with a high rise condo so that a family can have their own place to garden and have barbecues. Parallel to us was another courtyard, higher up, and we detested the people who used it as they were loud, obnoxious, and cooked a great deal of smelly seafood. 

You cannot exactly complain to the landlord about this, although, I tried unsuccessfully. The garbage and beer bottles they threw on our courtyard when we weren’t there proved they had to be breaking some bylaws as did their noise pollution extending beyond 10:00 p.m. 

Nevertheless, our twelve-year old daughter, Jeseme, up late on a Saturday and gabbing in the courtyard with her friend, finally had enough of these neighbours and as I am told, screamed bloody murder and more to them in a way as adults, we only wished we could have done earlier. Apparently Jeseme was so frightening the nasty neighbours sold their courtyard and a lovely retired couple purchased the ill kept space. They also have a granddaughter who is the same age as Jeseme and her and April have become fantastic friends. A win win situation from my perspective. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.