Maggie Wilson Author

Historical Non-Fiction in Northern Ontario

Daily Post

A New Ice Cream Variety: Mugget’s Nuggets

Mugget’s Nuggets. Stories and trivia. A bit nutty. Well, OK, a lot nutty. And rich. In the fat content meaning of the term. Sweet. With sour bits on occasion, depending on how you scoop it. If I am on the shelf too long, I might become hardened, difficult to encourage out. I will most certainly melt in the heat. Swirls of fudge sauce. Not the faux kind. A core of sweet praline […]

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Slips, Trips, and Falls: Part 1

Sunglasses? Check. House keys? Check-check. Cell phone? Checkity- check-check! Good to go. To where am I going you ask? Nowhere special. Just a walk around the neighbourhood to stretch my legs. So why the cell phone if I don’t use it to text or call anyone? The only incoming calls are from hubby at day’s end when he’s leaving work. Why the cell phone? In case I fall. I’m afraid […]

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Keesa me goo’night, Eddy

In the 1960’s, if it was 9 PM, we Wilson kids were in bed. Those were the rules if it was a school night. During the summer Dad allowed us to play outside until dusk. When the streetlights came on, that was our cue to gather up the toys and head home from the playground. Then it was straight upstairs to bed. When we were very young, we shared the same room. […]

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Morning Person

I’m a morning person. That is, if you define yourself in terms of when do you do your best work. While studying mine engineering technology, I soon learned that the math part of my brain lost steam by noon. If I couldn’t figure the sums by lunch time, then I needed to postpone the work for another day, if I had that luxury. The research, reading, and ‘riting part of my brain […]

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The URL of the daily prompt first brought to mind earworms, those tunes that stick and for better or worse you can’t get them out of your head. The body of the prompt asks if I’ve ever been obsessed with something.* If I connect the musical aspect of earworm with obsession, I remember the guitar I wanted when I was a preteen. In those days, if I wanted a guitar, I needed […]

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Buster for Auntie Doris

I promised Auntie Doris that I’d upload a photo of Buster Keaton for her. When I wrote the other day that I had a “thing” for Buster, she replied, I used to like that Buster Keaton. He had a knowing look in his eye, even when he had an innocent expression on his face… He wouldn’t have had to try more than three times if he had wanted to nail me! […]

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