Cats, Books & Life

Kitty Awwws & Catch Ups

2012-02-27T11:14:00.002+08:00

The world of the furries has been rather good, actually. I know, such a shock. Trust me, I thought I had to check my pulse in case I’d died and gone to Heaven, but no, I was actually still in my house here on earth, in my solid form (in more ways than one hee hee) and the cats were behaving themselves.

The dogs generally don’t do much wrong, so I can’t really count them. Wait a minute, does not listening to what they’re told to do count? Huh…maybe they are on a par with the cats…

Pixie: What does she mean? I always do what I'm told when I want to!

So anyway, there have been a few little hiccups, because it’s not always safe sailing in these furry waters. Even peaceful days usually contain something.

That something is normally Evie. I know, another shock. Go get a stiff drink ;-)

So, Evie. Yes, we thought she’d outgrown her desire to run up our backs. I mean, she’s over a year old now, time to settle down, right? Wrong. (You saw that coming, didn’t you?). Evie stopped the back running for about 2 months, then out of the blue, it started again. Here Mum or I would be, looking in the ‘fridge or pantry, contemplating what to eat/do/take out/cook, and ZOOOOOOM! Right up our backs and onto the top of the ‘fridge or pantry. While we’re still standing there in stunned shock, Evie is now rolling on top of the ‘fridge and peering down at us, her eyes practically dancing with laughter, nose really pink with joy.

Yes, it’s a wonderful game.

The other night she used my ample backside as a spring board. I kid you not. I’m standing there in front of the ‘fridge (forgot to check on Eve of Destructions whereabouts first, idiot that I am) and next thing I feel these little feet boing off my bum and onto my shoulder and up. So I’m standing there, rather stunned, and Evie is rolling on top of the ‘fridge laughing at herself.

I always knew I was a doormat to these cats.

Now the days have been really hot, though the last few days have been glorious. However, we went through weeks of a heat wave, and to top it off, humidity. It was during this time that I observed Lily doing what I now call The Lily Thing. Lily is a back sleeper. I mean, she does sleep on her tummy and side, but one of her favourite positions is on her back. On a really hot day, her fav possie is on my bed, on her back, under the fan, the breeze blowing her belly fluff around.

Smart cat. Hat’s how I lie on hot nights, only I don’t have belly fluff. I think.

Thinking back on it, Lily has always liked back sleeping, I even have photos of her as a kitten doing it.

Back sleeping is catching. Evie learned how to do it early on. She doesn’t do it a whole lot now, not like Lily. Lily sleeps on her back quite often.

Last Friday the vet came around to vaccinate the furry horde. Most were well behaved, but Evie proved a challenge. (I know, another shock. Go get yourself another stiff drink). My vet said it was a torti temperament. I had always heard a rumour of this, but I didn’t know that it was true. But apparently it is. Tortoiseshell (calicos to my

buddies) cats can be very flighty.

How about naughty? Really naughty? REALLY, REALLY naughty? Because I think Evie tops the deck in that pack of nutty cards, I tell you. One of her fav past times is dragging in assorted insects into Mum’s room and letting them loose on the floor so that Mum can eeeekkk what are you doing Evie? And chase the insects around with Evie darting between her feet.

A friend has a torti & white, whom I have known since she was a kitten. I’ve looked after Molly, and her chinchilla buddy Timmy, for years when their owners are away. Molly is fine at our house, and when I return her to Marie and Ron, she likes me. But go back to visit for a cuppa a few days later, and she hides from me. I’m TERRIBLE TO HER, she tells everyone. MEAN. IF THEY ONLY KNEW. I’m tying to coax her, but I’ve learned since don’t even bother to try. I can’t visit without her hiding from the HORRIBLE BEAST CALLED ANGELA. Now here’s the kicker. If I stay at Marie and Ron’s house and housesit while they’re away, Molly can’t let me out of her sight. She trips me up when I walk, and I kid you not, I can’t even go to the loo without her trying to climb into my lap. She sleeps on my chest. But get this - as soon as Marie and Ron come home and I go across to visit I AM THAT MEAN PERSON and she has to hide, scared for her life.

Good grief. What a drama queen. I actually took photos to prove that she really does like me! LOL Apparently Molly is like this with a lot of visitors.

Get this. Evie is the same with most visitors! Yes! I tell people what she’s like, how naughty she is, they read about her escapades, and when they come for a cuppa, what happens? Evie hides, trembling, eyes big. GOING TO EAT ME, she informs me. VISITORS ARE GONNA EAT LITTLE EVIE, her eyes convey clearly. GOTTA HIDE.

Good grief, drama queen number two.

Meanwhile….BORED, yawns Theo. GIMME MORE FOOD AND LOVE.

Such is life!!!

Next time: The Great Procrastinator.

Music. I Say Wha...?

2012-02-13T10:37:00.004+08:00

I like music. I write to music. I have music on in the car. Music helps me with my creativity. Music helps me through the day. It makes life - pleasant.

Even the sad songs. (‘Cause Sad Songs Say So Much - thanks Elton John!)

I can warble away to them while in the car and no one can hear me. Being single with no kids, I’m mostly always in my car alone. One of the things about being solo is that I get to listen to the music I want to.

But, I also live with my mother, and when she chooses to bring out the Scottish Pipe Bands, I almost die. Mind you, she does it so rarely, my gasps for air and clawing at the sky (behind my bedroom door) is not something that happens often.

She also likes Slim Dusty. I used to like Slim Dusty when I was little. Heck, we lived out in the bush up North, no radio, no TV, no power in the beginning, actually. So I never heard the more modern music, and so we’d be travelling along the dusty road with our windows down (we didn’t have aircon in the car, either), listening to Slim Dusty. I thought I was so great. We’d pull up into outback towns with Slim Dusty playing, and there we’d be, my brother and me, the cool bush kids, with Slim Dusty singing about the outback, booze, friends, broken hearts, life on the road.

Now I can’t really stand his songs. No offence, Slim Dusty fans, he was a great singer for everyone who still loves his songs. It’s just that I sort of moved on.

We listened to a lot of county songs back then, and I can still sing a bit of D-I-V-O-R-C-E and Delta Dawn, and many others. But they do have a different kind of tune to them, and I like them still.

So what do I listen to now? Light pop, a little light rock (yay Bonnie Tyler!) some El Divito (those boys are yum), some country (Tonight I Wanna Cry by Keith Urban - you ought to hear me warble that in the car!). Want to see me rock in my chair? Totally loving I Forgive You by Kelly Clarkson.

But I’m not here to bore you by waffling on about what music I like. I’m here to talk about - OMG. They call it music?

RAP! METAL ROCK! Good grief, was there ever more awful music (is it music?) in the world? EVERRRRRR????

Hard Metal Rock. A bunch of sweaty blokes in tight pants and sleeveless vests or t-shirts, hair hanging in their faces, bobbing their heads around like bobble dolls while playing (apparently) music. They shriek, they scream, you can see their tonsils.

The dentist wouldn’t have to widen their mouths with plastic devices, all they need to do is imitate their screaming- sorry, singing.

So the lead singer is walking (or stomping) up and down the stage, screaming into the mike he holds. If you’re really lucky (or not, depending on your POV), he will jump in the air with his legs shooting out either way like a demented ballerina. You can’t see the faces of the band members because they’re necks have broken and they can’t lift their heads. Probably the wait of all that sweaty hair. Their heads hang forward, hair in their eyes, and their heads are bobbing up and down frantically as they try to lift their heads up.

Poor buggers.

And then, to add insult to injury, you get those freakin’ drongos who smash their musical instruments at the end. To make a statement. Maybe it’s frustration that they can’t play them properly, and they really want to smash them over the head of the lead singer who is doing the splits, or maybe even lying on his back jittering all over the stage as though he’s having a fit of some kind.

And as for some of the women who sing heavy Metal Rock - with their torn stockings, leather jackets…let’s just say some pretty slutty scenes from movies come to mind. Eeewwwww.

Have a shower, people, tie back your hair and dress properly!

My other music dislike is Rap. Yes, you heard me, Rap. Rap. What a name for a music genre. Like a smart rap on the head might straighten them out.

So there they are, those bad ‘gansta’ boys and girls. Hip - hop. Rap.

Good God, they can’t even dress themselves. Half of them look like drag queens gone wrong, or metal music rejects.

For starters (oh, I’m gonna love this)…

The songs. So inspirational. If I knew what they were talking about. I sort of get ‘guns’, ‘knives’, ‘gangsta’, ‘bitches’, ‘gonna cut you’, ‘pigs’ etc etc. Because music is made for relaxing.

Okay, so maybe some rap music isn’t about gutting your next door neighbour, or fighting with the gang on the other side of town. That’d be okay expect I can’t even understand what they’re saying half the time. Not only do they mangle the English language - with ‘dis’ and ‘dem’ and ‘you got get down, brudder’ - they have no clue as to grammar. It’s like listening to a bunch of toddlers trying to talk.

And the clothes. OMG. The women dress like they’re in a really bad bondage film. Tight leather with their a***s hanging out, boobs hitting you in the face, you name it. It seems they dress to openly flaunt sex and their bodies.

But fellers, don’t touch them, because you’ll be in BIG trouble. Look, don’t touch. Fantasise, don’t touch. Okay?

And the men. God help me - or help them. Poor buggers never learned to dress properly, either. They look like six year olds who got into their big brothers’ wardrobes. Nothing fits. Big caps that sit sideways (that way, only one ear will get sunburned), jewellery obviously bought from the toy section at Targets (the medallions are so huge a dieter could use them as small plates for reduced portions) and whoo boy! The rings with their initials on it (in case they forget). Huge rings, so obvious, in fact, you need to wear sunglasses to stop the glare blinding you. To top off this hip look, they have shirts that reach almost to their knees (usually t-shirts), and baggy jeans with the crutches to their knees and bulked up around the ankles, above the biggest, bulkiest, damn ugly sneakers or boots you can find.

Yeah man, these hot men make your heart just flutter. Come on ladies, don’t you just want to grab some of that?

*gag*

Put the whole thing together and you have men who dress like they’ve raided their big brothers’ wardrobes, have no idea of grammar, and portray themselves as tough stuff. In their toy box jewellery. And the women are left over from a BDSM session.

Seriously, that’s what they look like!

Okay, to all you people who love rap, good on you. Me, I don’t, and that’s how I see it. Fair enough, it’s only my POV. You probably see it a whole lot different. Fine. No worries.

Meanwhile, I have Keith Urban playing in the background, and later I’ll be chair rocking to I Forgive You by Kelly Clarkson.

Now that’s music!

Next Time: Kitty Awwws & Catch Ups

Political Correctness: Are You Freakin’ Kidding Me?

2012-01-27T20:07:00.001+08:00

If there’s a list of words that I dislike intently, Political Correctness would be among them. Face it, politics is blah at the best of times - just watch the Parliament House Hour on TV, it’s like watching a bunch of delinquent teenagers rabble rousing - but stick that word ‘Political’ with ‘Correctness’ and it’s guaranteed to open up a hole to Hell.

Seriously. A hole to Hell people, a hole to Hell.

Hmmm…I kinda like that. Maybe I should make that my mantra - Political Correctness is a Hole to Hell. So sayeth Angela Verdenius. Heh heh.

Anyway, this whole Political Correctness thing. What do I think of it? It wasn’t a bad idea that got completely out of hand.

Basically, from what I can gather, Political Correctness came about to ensure that no one got slighted. I think. The whole damned thing is a freakin’ mystery to me. One minute we’re going about our business, saying and doing things like we’ve always said and done them, when this Demon from Hell popped up in the form of Political Correctness.

My gosh, does it say something that every time I think of Political Correctness, Hell is lurking in the background?

So, as I said, this PC crap suddenly lurches up behind us, and this PC Demon smacks us on the back of the head and screams “You can’t do that! You can’t say that! It’s not Politically Correct!”

And we’re standing there, rubbing the backs of our heads and going, “Huh?”

Just like that, our world turned upside down. Sayings were slammed, slang was slammed, PC trod all over our self esteem and threatened our beliefs, and churned up more resentment than I feel even when the weeds take over the lawn and I have to waste precious time weeding the bugger.

Most things I took for granted suddenly had PC looming over them, casting into shadow things I used to laugh at, things I used to say. Suddenly I’m expected to censor everything that comes out of my mouth, everything I write, everything I do, everything I freakin’ think.

Well, you know what? I want to know who sets this Political Correctness law. Who are the brains behind it, huh? Who are the people who gather around a table with their piles of policies, their dictionaries, their iPpads, their iphones, their freakin’ red or black pens, and decide what I can say, do or think? Huh? Who are they?

I challenge you, freaking PC people, to come forward and be named and shamed! Yes, that’s right, Named and Shamed! Did I vote you in? Did I? Because sure as God made green apples, if I know who you are, you won’t be getting my vote again, let me give you the freakin’ huge tip!

And even worse? Even worse are those people who jump on the bandwagon and decide to call anything they don’t like ‘not PC and so we shouldn’t do it.’

Let’s unleash the Hounds of Hell right now, people. Let’s lay out for all to see my pet hate with this freakin’ PC crap.

1. Christmas and everything associated with it should be banned, it’s not PC!

2. Jokes about other nationalities aren’t PC!

3. Blonde jokes aren’t PC!

And so it goes on…and on…and freakin’ on.

Well, here’re my answers, people, so listen up. If you don’t want to listen up, fine, I won’t be offended. Just don’t read on!

1. If you don’t believe in Christmas, just don’t do it. That’s it. Don’t buy presents, don’t receive presents, and don’t listen to Christmas carols or watch Christmas shows on TV. Simple. Just don’t do it.

2. Why is it okay to have jokes about Aussies, Yanks and Kiwis, but not other nationalities? Come on, people, get the starch out of your collar - it’s a joke, for freakin’ crying out loud!

3. What if the blonde was changed to a brunette? Who gives a crap? I just want to laugh! Man, I was classed as a strawberry blonde when I was younger, and if blonde jokes don’t offend me, why the hell should it offend anyone else? I’m just sayin’…

Here’s another thought, folks. Forcing your beliefs on everyone else isn’t (and forget the term PC - crap how I hate it!) - it isn’t nice. It isn’t cool. It isn’t hip. It simply makes you a hypocrite, because you’re telling me to stop doing something, and you’re doing it by forcing that belief on me. If I respect your rights, then respect mine. Don’t like my jokes? Don’t listen. Tell me you don’t like them and I’ll not tell you another one. Tell me it’s not PC and you’ll get a freakin’ barrel-load of them.

But what really burns my boat? So many things that are said by people not to be PC - I can’t find anything about it anywhere! Where is the proof that Christmas, for example, is not PC? Huh? Point me in that direction! Where is there a law or a ruling saying that I can’t tell blonde jokes, or brunette jokes, or any freakin’ joke, for that matter? (Okay, apart from totally obscene ones, I’ll give you that. But that’s not PC, that’s classed as sexual harassment. Whole different ball game. Get your facts straight!)

Listen up, people, (especially those so caught up in PC) before you try to smother others, check out what you’re FORCING onto them!

Yeah, as you can see, this subject gets my goat. But I’ve stood quiet long enough, and now I’m having my say (well, I can, can’t I? It’s my blog LOL). I believe we all have our beliefs and traditions. Basically, if you don’t believe in it, or you don’t like it, then just don’t join in. No one is breaking your arm. No one is holding you down, forcing a piece of turkey into your mouth and a pressie into your pocket. Get a grip. In fact, PC threatens to push out every tradition many of us have loved and cherished through the ages, jokes through the ages, culture and beliefs, all through history. Sure, some of it has changed and adapted a little, but you know what? I’m not hurting anyone.

But if someone shoves enough PC into my face, I’m gonna be freakin’ hurting someone!!!!!

*fume*steam*rant*

Next Time: Music? I Say Wha…?

running late!

2012-01-25T00:00:00.000+08:00

Yes, I am running late with the blog. Two weeks late, actually. Or is that one week late? Oh my gosh, time is flogging past and I'm losing track of the days! I promise you I will be blogging very soon - have to have my little rant about Political Correctness! So apologies once more, I will be back in the next few days!

Happy New Year - and it comes with a Meow & a Spit

2012-01-09T14:17:00.026+08:00

So Happy New Year to everyone! I hope it’s started off well for you all. It’s started off for us okay. No major dramas - EXCEPT those played out by the cats.

Yes, the CATS. I know this shocks you, you just can’t believe it, but it’s true. It’s all true!

Our house has had episodes of peace, and episodes of pure war. WAR, people. WAR! Nasty war, too, both devious and outright hostilities.

For once, Evie isn’t at the centre of it. Yes, I know that’s also a big shock, but I guess she can’t be the harbinger of all doom. Though, come to think of it….No, no, I have to be fair, Evie is innocent in all of this.

So who, you may ask, is at the centre of the war in our once peaceful home? Well, it’s not one, but 3 - and sometimes 4 - cats. So the tale is this:

WAR IN THE VERDENIUS HOUSEHOLD

CULPRIT 1 - Name: Lacy

Code Name: Blue Girl

Age: approx 9 yrs old

Breed: Blue Pt Siamese Cross

CULPRIT 2 - Name: Lily

Code name: Lilybelles

Age: approx 5 yrs old

Breed: Moggie (aka Domestic Short Hair), black and white

CULPRIT 3 - Name: Abby

Code Name: Abby Wabby Woo

Age: approx 9 yrs old

Breed: Semi-longhaired moggie, black

SOMETIME CULPRIT 4 - Name: Fleur

Code Name: Flirty-Fleur

Age: approx 9 yrs old

Breed: semi-longhaired moggie, tortoiseshell

VICTIM - Name: Bella

Code Name: That Poor Bloody Cat

Age: approx 7 months

Breed: Russian Blue

LOCATION OF WAR - Verdenius household

OWNERS: Angela and her mother, known as ‘Grandma’ to the furries that live there.

CODE NAMES: Dumb Bum and Sucker - secretly named by the furries.

OBJECTIVE OF THE CULPRITS: Kill Bella

OBJECTIVE OF THE VICTIM: Stay alive long enough until her owners arrive to pick her up.

OBJECTIVE OF THE OWNERS OF THE HOUSEHOLD: Keep Bella alive long enough until her owners can pick her up, stand guard between the Culprits and Victim, and try to stay sane.

I have no idea what sane means anymore…

MOST EVENINGS: Chaos. One of the Culprits will find the Victim and harass her. Full on. Tails puffed up, eyes glinting evilly, backs hunched up like they’re having a gigantic pooh, only they’re not, they’re scaring the Victim. And chasing her.

MOST MORNINGS: Uneasy truce. Sort of. Until the Owners take their eyes off the Victim and/or the Culprits, and then it’s Hell on Earth. Or War in the Verdenius Household. Take you’re pick, it’s pretty much the same thing.

MOST AFTERNOONS: Peace reigns, as the Culprits and Victim are asleep. The Owners take this time to lick their wounds, whimper, and try to get ready for the evening battle.

EVERY NIGHT: Victim is shut into the front room to sleep. Victim yells protests and claws way up fly-wire door (screen door for my US friends), which she has learned to open and we now have to lock. Evie sits on other side and looks impressed - or unimpressed, depending on whether she’s playing Tough or Innocent.

LENGTH OF WAR: Pretty much started 3 weeks ago, escalating in intensity.

LENGTH TO GO: Sweet Jesus, please let it be only another week or two. PEOPLE, COME HOME AND GET YOUR CAT WHILE IT’S STILL ALIVE!!!!!

HOPEFUL OUTCOME AT END OF WAR: Victim will be alive and in one piece, Culprits will realise what little s***s they’ve been and be very sorry, Owners will forgive Culprits and be sane, and Household will return to normal.

MORE LIKELY OUTCOME: Victim will be alive and in one piece, Culprits will strut around yelling out that this is THEIR home and they’ll PROTECT it anyway they damned well please, Owners will be gibbering wrecks (like that’s anything new), and the Household will be reduced to it’s normal not-quite-sane condition.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Next Week: Political Correctness? Are You Freaking Kidding Me?

Evie & Our Boarder & Christmas Greetings

2011-12-22T13:11:00.000+08:00

Firstly, apologies in advance as I don’t have any photos of Evie and our boarder, as the memory chip in my camera is full and I don’t have another one yet. But still, I’m sure you can imagine the happenings I’m about to relay.

So, members of my family have gone away for holidays, and their sweet little cat, Bella, is boarding with us. Bella is only about 7 months old, and seeing as Evie has just turned 12 months old, Mum and I thought it would be good company for Evie to have another young cat/older kitten around.

We are so stupid.

Firstly, Bella is a Russian Blue, and she’s whip thin and lanky and grey and has the sweetest nature. We were told, quite seriously, that she’s a good, quiet girl, and doesn’t jump on anything or run up fly wire doors or windows, or climb onto people.

I’m not sure how far Evie’s warped nature reaches out, maybe it wafts from her like invisible smoke, I don’t know, but some strange things have happened since Bella came to stay.

Her family left after the first night Bella was here, so the second night, of course, there was no family to entertain her (apart from boring old Mum and me). So Bella sat at the fly wire door and gazed out into the passage. Evie, goggle-eyed, sprawled in front of the door, and I think that’s when her aura snaked through the fly wire and struck Bella. Within seconds, Bella, the ‘never climbed a fly wire door - EVER’ was up the fly wire door and yelling.

Now this had to be a record. The record has since been broken. Bella came on Friday last week, and since then she has been up every fly wire door in the house and perched on top of a) the fly wire doors and b) the wooden doors. It’s all great fun.

Evie followed her around with her bottom lip dragging sulkily on the floor when she wasn’t growling Death Threats at Bella. All seemed okay.

How gullible we are. Stupid, stupid, cat owners *shaking head at self*.

Bella-Who-Never-Climbs-On-People was up my back and onto my shoulder, 'and wasn’t that just fun?' she meowed in my ear. I rather thought it cute, but I’m a little worried at how my relatives' nice, quiet little cat is starting to turn.

Evie skulked around, obviously not impressed that the Skinny Interloper was not only scaling HER doors, but was now jumping on HER humans. Everyone knows the humans in this house are there just for HER. It’s all about HER, you know, all about EVIE.

The last straw came when I was at the computer happily typing away and Bella came waltzing in and jumped on my lap. Then onto my shoulder.

“You really shouldn’t be up there,” I cooed. “Little Bella, wookums shouldn’t do dat, no, wookums get into trouble when she goes home, won’t she? Aunty Angie must be stwict, yes I must, yes I must! I - (*^%$@!”

Now, I know you’re confused. One minute I’m doing the baby-talk thing with Bella (who was really impressed, because she was nattering back at me), the next all Hell broke loose as Evie came up from behind and under (rather like a furry Jaws) and swiped Bella, reaching up and wham! Bella dug into my shoulder and used my elbow as a catapult, while Evie tried to claw her way angrily onto my lap to get the Skinny Interloper Once and For All!

So they took off, Evie’s tail all puffed up like a toilet brush, and Bella a grey streak.

So I sat there, bleeding out onto the floor and watching my life flash before my eyes, and once again I marvelled at how Evie is such a strong-willed cat. My my my, she is so strong-willed. All the other cats are content to either give Bella a warning hiss to stay her distance, or simply ignore her, but not Evie. Oh no. Evie has to brand her Humans. I may wear those claw scars for the rest of my days.

Tonight, Evie is happy to just stalk Bella. And strut around the house - strut strut strut - because it’s HER house, HER territory, HER humans. It’s all HERS. It all belongs to EVIE!

Evie, however, wasn’t impressed when I, upon noticing her tail bristling like a porcupine, quickly grabbed her and trimmed her claws. She yelled and sulked while Mum held her, but at least one thing will go the way I want it to tonight. I won’t be bleeding out or watching my life pass before my eyes!

A week later….

Well, people, miracle of miracles, Evie is now playing with Bella. A true Christmas miracle. Evie only goes nuts at Bella when Bella dares to go on Granny’s bed, because after all, Granny belongs to Evie, not Bella. Bella’s cool with that, she comes onto my bed and fossicks around before going back into the front room and sleeping on top of the cupboard. So all is well, and just in time for Christmas!

On that note, people, I wish you a very Merry Christmas! May it be filled with peace, joy, love and laughter. If you're visiting family or travelling, please take care, both those of you who are in cold climates and facing rain and snow, and those in hotter climates facing fires and heat. Take care on the roads and stay safe. Those who are staying home, have a lovely time. For those who have no family and may be spending Christmas alone, stay safe, and know that you'll be in my prayers and thoughts, and you are special *hugs*.

And please, if you're holidaying, please ensure your animals are taken care of and safe, because they are special, too, and are a part of the family. If you want to give a pet for Christmas, remember a pet is for life, not just for Christmas, and make sure whoever is going to be receiving the pet, really wants it and can - and will - love and take care of it. Also make sure you have food and other items needed for a new pet available straight away!

So everyone, have a most Blessed Christmas, a safe and happy one, and I wish you all the best of a happy New Year. See you in 2012!

RANT: IF IT’S NOT BROKEN, LEAVE IT ALONE!

2011-12-14T18:55:00.000+08:00

New and improved? Not bloody likely! I’m sorry, but if it’s not broken, people, freakin’ leave it alone!

What is it that something that is perfectly okay as it is, has to be re-done and come out as New and Improved. Generally this means that

1: Your cat’s not going to like the cat food you’ve bought it for years, and if you’re really unlucky it now has the s***s and the litter tray is really nasty smelling.

2: Your dog’s not going to like the dog food you’ve bought for years and, if you’re really unlucky, it now has the s***s and the back yard looks like a cow-patty-pooh party was held in it.

3: If you’re REALLY unlucky, your cat or dog will have the s***s while you have visitors and proceed to

a) Stink out the house

b) Make your visitors go purple in the face with the stench

c) Plonk their bums on the floor and with their paws up around their ears, will wipe the runny pooh all over your floor (in front of the visitors, ‘cause that’s always such a nice, friendly touch. Makes visitors feel part of the family)

d) Land on your bed/sofa/armchair with a poohey bum and look at you as you stare at it, aghast.

All this because some company decided to ‘improve’ what was a perfectly good product. Now you have to find something else because some COMPANY DECIDED TO FREAKIN’ IMPROVE WHAT DIDN’T NEED IMPROVING!

Okay, so what brought this rant on? I’ll tell you. Several things have happened lately that have driven me freakin’ nuts.

Okay, the cat and dog food is a big issue. Some of our cats have now gone off their cat food and, yes, ‘improved’ is part of the packaging. ARGH!!!!!!

Another big problem is I bought a pedestal fan today. I tried to put it together. Now, I have done this heaps of times before, I’m the buyer-and-putter-together of the fans in our house. No problems, no worries man. She’s cool. So what freakin’ happens? The company I buy this fan off decides to introduce this teeny, tiny, weeny, whiney (oh, the last bit is me) itsy bitsy screw and nut. I’m fumbling and swearing and trying to get this Thumbelina-size screw and nut into place on the grill, to join them, before I can click the clasps into place.

I can’t freakin’ do it! By now I’m red in the face and swearing a blue streak, and Mum is edging around me as I *&%$! try to put the *&%$! screw in *&%$ place and then the (*$%#!@ nut and finally, FINALLY, I have it all in place, BUT the freakin’ grill won’t go on properly and I’m steaming so much that the vapours are seeping through the doors and windows. I’m almost screaming with frustration trying to get the @#&$! grill to fit the &^%@! other grill but the (*%@! nut and screw are in the *&#@! way!

So what do I do? I throw the freakin’ screw and nut away and put the damned clasps down over the b***y grills and plug the *^%@! fan in and IT WORKS! It freakin’ WORKS, company, so why the hell did you decide to freak me out with a tiny screw and nut????? Why now, after all this time, did you decide to FREAKIN’ IMPROVE AN ALREADY GOOD PRODUCT!

OMG, I’m gonna give myself a heart attack!

I am so SICK of the New & Improved! I swear it’s a conspiracy to DESTROY US!

IT AIN’T BROKEN, PEOPLE, SO DON’T FREAKIN’ FIX IT!

OMG, I have to go and sit down in front of the fan to cool off before I stroke out.

Next week: Evie & Our Boarder & Christmas Greetings

RANT AGAIN! Chick Flicks and Chicks’ Night In…WTHell…?

2011-12-03T10:54:00.002+08:00

I’m sorry, but I just have to have another rant. This subject gets right up my nose. It gets my goat. It makes me go red in the face. It makes me sigh in exasperation. It makes me yell “No! Nonononono NO! Freakin’ NO!”

So what has my panties in such a knot? The so-called Chicks Night In. Girls Night at the Movies. Chick Flicks. CHICK FLICKS!

Yes, people, the so-called Chick Flicks burn my boat.

The other day an article in a magazine read “Enjoy a Girls’ Night In. Invite Your Friends Around For a Movie Night!” And what did they advertise as perfect watching for this Girls Night In? Soppy romances, so-called romance comedies, weepy movies. WTHell…?

People, it drives me freakin’ nuts when, because I’m a female, experts think that what I want to do is sit and watch a romance movie, or worse, weep into my hankie watching a sad movie. ARGH!

Now nothing against romances and comedy romances and even weepy movies. If that’s the kind of thing you want to watch, okay, fine, no skin off my nose and I don’t judge you for it. Heck, I love Miss Congeniality, Bridget Jones’s Diary and Practical Magic. Each to their own. But STOP labelling these movies Chick Flicks. It’s as though the only thing girls will watch is a so-called Chick Flick.

You see it all the time. The other day I was in the DVD shop and saw a bloke watch his partner/girlfriend/wife/sister (hell, I don’t know who she was, they were both strangers) pick up a movie, and his lip curled as he said, with contempt dripping from his voice, “Oh, a Chick Flick.”

Damn it, man, I’m a girl, a chick, a sheila, a woman, a female, the fairer sex, and I hate that label – Chick Flick. I don’t do Chick Flicks. I want a movie, then I want a horror, a sci-fi, a thriller. I freakin’ don’t want romances, so don’t look so freakin’ surprised when a couple of friends and me have a girl’s night watching a couple of movies and they’re not the so-called Chick Flicks.

Yes, that’s right. I pick a movie, and I pick something to scare the crap out of me, or hold me enthralled.

Why can’t articles about Girls’ Night In show thriller movies, or horror, or sci-fi or something? Do the magazine experts think the only thing women want to watch is a romance or a weepy damn movie? No. NO! Damn it! *kick kick kick* chucking tantrum*

Man, it drives me nuts! I mean, do they class thrillers as Rooster Flicks? Do they? No. Do they have Roosters’ Night In with advice on how to get the perfect Rooster Flick for the men? No. Why not? Why the freakin’ hell not? Do men not buy movies and watch them in a group? You always see ads on TV of men watching something on TV and ordering pizza. Isn’t that a Roosters’ Night In?

Jeez! Man. Cripes. *shaking head*

Anyway, whatever you like to watch, good on you. But if you invite me around to watch some movies, don’t ever ask me around for a Chick Flick!

ARGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Next Time: Rant No 3 – If It’s Not Broken, Leave It Alone!

RANT: Story Similarities that Drive Me Nuts!

2011-11-21T13:08:00.009+08:00

Yes, I’m an author as well as a nurse and general slave to the animals, but I’m also a reader, and so I have some things that just annoy me when I read a book.

I will say right here and now, that what annoys me may not annoy other readers, so this is totally my own point of view and no reflection on other authors. Okay? I am not in this to poke fingers elsewhere, when there are readers who may not like my books or story-lines, and I quite possibly drive them nuts, too.

Wow, talk about selling my writing…ROTFL!

Okay, so this is my rant about some of the storylines that drive me NUTS!

ONE: I love cosy mysteries/romance mysteries, call them what you will. They usually involve likeable characters with similar problems to us, caught up in a mystery, and mostly have the lightest touch of romance in them, but the overall storyline is the heroine and the mystery. (The hunky detective/journalist/private investigator is just a yummy added bonus).

I recently read some books in a cosy mystery series and I really liked them BUT the heroine was broke, she had credit cards up to her hair-line, she didn’t know how she could afford to pay her rent, and yet she still kept BUYING $400 fancy shoes and was basically a slut for handbags and would still fork out up to $900 for a handbag. This is while she had no idea how she was going to pay her rent. And then she went and signed up for another credit card with a huge limit and explained it all away as something she could do. WTHell…? No way, people! I could not get past this, it boggled my mind!

The sad thing is, I know this really does happen in reality. So sad, so bad, but to have the heroine of this book doing it drove me nuts. Whining about paying her rent, not knowing where the money was going to come from, and then happily forking out $400 or so for a handbag. Lady, here’s a tip – use the money for the handbag to pay your FREAKIN’ RENT!

TWO: I love urban fantasy, read them heaps. Sometimes I get fed up, though, with some of the same old story lines (we all know how I feel about demon heroes). I was reading this UF recently, and the heroine was a of a cross-species (I’m not going to say what, in case someone else has read the story or recognises it), and she was powerful when in a killing rage and could kill heaps of bad supernatural guys without remembering a thing. She even attacked two powerful beings that had a hard time containing her. So what happens next? The hero (a supernatural guy who was one of the two who helped contain her with huge bruises and ruffling of his wonderful hair – he was even out of breath and everything) is able to keep pinning this killing/raging/cross-supernatural heroine to the floor – the bed, the wall, the chair, wherever – with only a bit of a smack from her here and there – and he was on his own this time. Did he magically gain power? Did the sexual tension heat up his muscles to the point that they expanded? WTHell…?

Please save me. Is this heroine a tough sheila or not? I hate when the heroine is made out to be one thing, but is so easily defeated by another supernatural being that she normally trashes without breaking a fingernail. I know we have to have sexual tension and the hero must obviously be tougher than the heroine, but then please, please, let him be tougher than her from the very beginning!

THREE: I love my zombies, and in zombie stories and movies I don’t mind if it’s weird supernatural things that bring the dead to life, or terrorist attacks. At least, that’s what I thought until recently when I put down a perfectly good zombie book and thought…”Why does it have to be a suspected terrorist attack most of the time?”. Interestingly, on a yahoo group I belong to, another reader mentioned the very same thing – she preferred voodoo to bring them to life, not terrorism, and I unthinkingly replied that I didn’t mind either – mainly because I love zombies so much. But actually, in fact, I was getting a little irritated that it was the same old ‘terrorist attack’ theme that bugs me lately.

Would it matter so much if the zombies just appeared? If some voodoo queen did her thing and the dead walked the earth? And really, unleashing a zombie plague to take over part of the world is pretty dumb when the plague apparently spreads so fast that no-one survives anyway, at least not enough to take back the world from the undead again.

And on that subject, I recently saw an excruciatingly poor example of zombies taking over the world. They were the slowest zombies in history, so slow a baby could have crawled faster, yet this continent got overrun with zombies and there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to go, people! All these guns and the army and the zombies walking SO FREAKIN’ SLOWLY it was agonising to even watch! I’m sitting there going “Shoot them! Damn it shoot them! RIGHT THERE, YOU STUPID A******E! Gimme the damn gun and I’ll DO IT!” Yes, I did get a little irritated…

FOUR: This is probably one of my biggest issues. It’s what I personally refer to as ‘copycat writing’. I’ve only read one series that did this, but after reading (and going ‘WTHell?’ throughout the first book), I labelled it a copycat story. It was so blatantly like another very popular UF story, so alike my eyes almost popped out of my head, that it was almost a mirror image. Unfreakin’ believable! Right down to the having to have sex with so many guards, the big bad fairy queen, the uber cute fae and their nasty ways, the fae princess who was in danger from her Aunt. Give me a freakin’ break!

BTW – I think Laurel K Hamilton’s Merry Gentry series rocks and is in a class of its own, and her series is NOT what I’m talking about. Her Anita Blake Vampire Hunter and Merry Gentry books are true originals and I believe they’ve paved the way for many similar UFs. They are ground-breakers.

FIVE: The heroine or hero who gallantly give up being with their love – and won’t give them a reason. This drives me nuts if the reason is so simple and the answer so freakin’ obvious. Of course, if giving a reason means the hero/heroine will end up dead, okay, I can handle that. But simple answers…ARGH!

It’s okay to be selfless, to be honourable, to be whatever, but to deliberately part ways when they are so happy together and the answer to staying together is so simple even someone like me can point it out, it drives me FREAKIN’ NUTS! Wise up, people!!!

Yes, I know we need conflict, I know we need the emotional roller-coaster ride, but it needs to be believable – in my opinion.

SIX: This is for both books and films. Why the heck does a comedy book or movie have to follow the same dreary formula? Funny from beginning to the middle, then about a quarter of the way through – sad sad sad, before the final gooey ending when all is right with the world. Why the hell can’t a comedy be a comedy all the way through? Tell me that, huh, tell me THAT?!

This is one of the reasons why I love Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum books. She has the comedy all the way through, the mystery all the way through, the hunky side characters, the funny side characters, a touch of romance and sexual tension, and the heroine is well aware she’s broke and doesn’t keep spending money on things she can’t afford. It’s everything it promises, and it delivers!

So there you go, fellow readers, some of the similarities in stories that drive me nuts. These are totally my own opinions, feel free to agree or disagree! And if there’s anything that drives you nuts, share it with us!!!

Next Week : Rant Again! Chick Flicks and Chicks Nights In. WTHell…????

Freakin' Gardening

2011-11-08T15:25:00.000+08:00

As you have probably guessed, gardening is not my forte. In fact, it never has been my forte. I kill plastic plants, therefore I rest my case.

My mother, on the other hand, loves gardening. She has gardening magazines piled so high it rivals the Eiffel Tower, and she visually devours them the same way I do Pavlova on my birthday. She plans the garden, drawing intricate plans and patterns, and has sheets of paper with all these plant names on them.

Mum is a walking garden encyclopaedia. She tells me about her latest plans for the garden and calls plants by these impressive names that are five miles long. I’m forever telling her to speak English and give me the layman’s name of the plants, because I have not a clue what she’s talking about otherwise. I know Mad Myrtle, a violet, a rose, purple pea, etc…official botanical names confuse me.

Mum has been planning the front garden for years. It’s a work in progress. We do things differently, Mum and I. She plans and plots and researches. I decide what I want, dig a hole and bung it in. Yes, we are very different when it comes to gardens.

In fact, my idea of a perfect garden is to have paving everywhere and pots of plants. Then I only have to spray the pavers for weeds now and again and genteelly water the pots. Mum likes plants planted in the ground and in pots, and garden beds everywhere.

I’m amazed we can share a house without spraying each other with weed killer when it comes to conversations about freakin’ gardens.

Now, I like plants and gardens, don’t get me wrong...as long as I don’t have to fuss over it and pull weeds. As long as I can afford a gardener to work in the garden in place of me. And that’s not happening, because I, well, basically cannot afford a gardener.

I love the birds and insect life (I do draw the line at those weird spiders that spin their webs from one brush to another and I get caught in them and freak out), I’m always in trouble for picking up snails and moving them to safer areas of the garden (aka, away from Mum’s shoe), and I like the look of gardens. I even like to *gasp* stand in them and look around and appreciate their beauty.

It’s just the gardening ITSELF I hate!

It doesn’t help that whenever I do any weeding or try to help with gardening, I always manage to get rashes up my arms and itch like crazy, and any kind of gardening ends up with me in the shower scrubbing my arms with soap and water.

Now, here’s another thing. What is it with lawns? I mean, you plant them, you water them, you fertilize them, you nourish them - then as soon as it gets lovely and long the lawnmower comes out and we freakin’ chop it ruthlessly down, just so we can start it all over again.

I love roses, but I’ve never gotten over this simple fact of gardening….you shop for them, agonise over which to buy and which colour (that’d be Mum, not me, I just see, like and buy), plant them, nurture them, coo over them and water them - and then BAM! As soon as those pretty roses come out, well, what do you know? It’s time to freakin’ chop them down! Yes, out come the cutters and apparently it’s time to prune! What the….?

I love Lantana. It’s pretty, it’s hardy, it looks great, and has colourful flowers. Lantana is in a lot of gardens all over Geraldton, both in the CBD and in home gardens. I want Lantana, Mum doesn’t. Why? Because apparently it has root systems that go everywhere and Lantana pops up all over the place. Great, I say, because then we’ll have flowers everywhere. Not so great, Mum says, because she doesn’t want it spreading everywhere. Not only that, some wise guy decided to declare that Lantana has apparently been recognized as a weed. Officially, within no time, it’s gone from a wanted bush to a weed. But we can still plant it and no one that I know has pulled it out.

Which brings me to another thing with gardens. Why the heck do we pull out weeds? I don’t get it. They grow without water, they’re green, some have pretty flowers on them, and they grow abundantly in all the cracks you can find. We yank them suckers out and then proceed to plant different plants that require water we can’t afford too much of, and have to protect from wind, heat, frost and insects. We battle to keep them alive only to watch them keel over in the burning heat. Next to them the weeds thrives. Weeds are natural. I think we need to have weed gardens. Truly. They thrive naturally. Why pull out a natural plant to then re-plant, in its place, another plant? And one that requires care?

I don't understand.

I DO understand that I loathe gardening. I loathe pulling the weeds, watering, digging, pulling out dead plants, lamenting over the fact that some dumb bozo in the neighbourhood has sprayed his weeds and its come through the air and killed off a couple of plants. I loathe when someone in the neighbourhood uses fertilizer, the smell of which singes the hair in your nostrils and sends you gagging back indoors. I ask you, how is that healthy gardening??? I loathe the insects that thrive in gardens and spread a sticky substance over the branches that have my mother having a fit outside while she gazes in horror upon its offering on her plants.

I loathe gardening. I know many of you don’t understand why, you find it relaxing, soothing, healing even, as you run your fingers through the dirt and smooth out your garden beds and watch in pride as your plants flourish.

I break my nails, get all hot and sweaty, and end up with rashes up my arms.

I’m sorry, people, Freakin’ gardens and I just don’t get on! The day I have large, beautiful, flourishing gardens will be the day I can afford a gardener!

Meanwhile, I’ll watch Mum plan her garden and go out into it with my feet dragging to pull up more freakin’ weeds!!!

Next entry: Rant - Story Similarities that Drive Me Nuts!

Kitty Catch-Up

2011-10-31T12:31:00.004+08:00

Where to start??? Let’s take the two that have caused us an anxious time, before moving on to the trouble maker.

DT - my darling little 17 yr old choc pt Balinese. Well, she got a urinary tract infection (UTI) which had us worried. Off to the vet - and, of course, it HAD to be 20 minutes until closing time. Because that’s how my cats work. They get sick after hours or when the vet is just about to close. Anyway, Richard did some blood tests and a urine test, and DT’s white cell count was up and blood in the urine. So an antibiotic injection and home again. By morning she was peeing like a little trooper and the drama was over.

Me and DT (real name Angel Blossom)

POLLY - my darling Pollyanna. She has 31 different allergies (fancy being born in Australia and being allergic to many of the wattles, pollens and grasses?!) and is on a desensitizing program. Well, every month I’m giving her a couple of injections, and the last four or five months, she HATES me for up to two weeks after the injections - hissing and spitting and refusing to sleep inside the house, sleeping instead in the cold on the back veranda, curled up in a tiny box or litter tray. The vet was stumped and she thought maybe Polly was associating me with the serum, so next time she was due, Nicki, one of the vet nurses, gave her the injections. Polly was fine with me, no probs, but she still spent outside for up to 2 weeks. Finally we got the answer when my vet contacted the American firm where the serum comes from - apparently there was extra glycerine in the maintenance batch, which makes it more viscous and potentially more uncomfortable, so next time we have to mix the serum with sterile saline as a 1:1 ratio. So Polly is due her injections in the next day or two, so wish me luck!

Meanwhile, she has adopted one of the litter trays as the Best Litter Tray Ever. The Best Box Ever is no longer the Best, it’s this particular litter tray. Go figure.

Best Litter Tray Ever

Now, finally, the trouble maker…

EVIE - …the Trouble Maker…aka Eve of Destruction, aka Evil Evie, aka Firecracker with the Short Fuse. So many names for one half grown cat!

Oh my aching head...Evie Evie Evie. I never quite know where to start if I’m talking about her. Let’s take the issues one by one.

ONE: Friends’ 2 cats came to stay with us. Molly and Timmy have been coming for years. Evie decided she didn’t like Molly and gave her hell, so much so that Molly ended up spending her days in the front room nervously peering over the edge of the armchair armrest, and Evie ended up being locked out of the room. Evie tried to get it over Timmy but he wasn’t putting up with her crap and so she had to give in. Sulkily. Sort of. She kept stalking him but didn’t get too close…if you know what I mean. Basically being a nuisance shadow.

TWO: 2 cats from another friend came to stay with us, Miss Moo and Tigger. Tigger always growls when he first comes, so I just talk to him but don’t touch, and basically leave him alone and make sure he has plenty of fresh water and food and a clean tray. Miss Moo used to be a lot shyer, but she’s mellowed a lot and now, after the first day, will sleep on the armchair. Tigger will sleep on top of the cupboard in the front room. So, yes, both cats stay in the front room at all times.

Now, we have a security screen door on the front room that opens into the little passage, so the cats get fresh air and can see us and we can see them, but there are no fights between our cats and other cats. As Tigger growls and Miss Moo is a little flighty, I always peg a towel to the bottom half of the door so they can’t see our cats.

You can guess what happened, can’t you? Go on, I know you can. That’s right, Evie decided the best game ever was to lie on the floor and pull the pegs out of the towel and then - why, goodness me, she could see these cats! Wow, what a surprise! The little rat. I chased her away from there at least fifty million times, putting pegs back in and straightening the towel, and most times I didn’t even get away from the door and Evie was back. She chewed the ends off the wooden pegs and yanked almost everyone out…over and over and over and freakin' over. In the middle of the night you could hear Tigger growling while Evie was merrily yanking out pegs and chasing them across the floor.

I Can See You Two Cats in There!

To make matters worse, I was also on night shift, so the days I was asleep, Mum said she ignored Evie pulling out the pegs and Evie would get bored and wander away. But as soon as I woke up, Evie would come burning down the passage and proceed to yank out every peg. Yes, people, it was like having an annoying younger sister. Evie was TORMENTING ME!!!! Can you believe it? Here’s Mum going, “Angela, just ignore her, it only makes it worse when you run after her.” And I’m protesting (whining, really), “But Mum, she’s pulling out the pegs!”

How embarrassing.

Needless to say, she never stopped yanking on those freakin’ pegs and then sticking her head under the towel to ogle the other cats until the day they left. I’ll tell you right now, when she managed to get her head under the towel to ogle the other cats, or stood against the door to peer over the towel, her tail would lash around, and when we picked her up to shift her and re-peg the towel back in place, she’d yell for all she was worth at the cats and at us.

Now you’d think she’d have quietened down a little, being about 9 months old now, but no. Still as mad as a hatter. “No” and “Don’t” means game on for her, and it becomes a battle of wills. I’m ashamed to admit that she sometimes wins, but then again, when she gets too naughty, it’s time out in the bathroom for about 2 minutes - any longer and she has not a clue why she’s in there. Attention span of a fly.

Trouble!!!

She is a firecracker with a short fuse. If she can’t get her way, she grumbles and whines, and if you touch her when she can’t get her way, she’ll swipe you. No claws, but we’ve been hit with her paw. Don’t pick her up when she doesn’t want it, she’ll whine and grumble. If she’s trying to get under a blanket on the sofa, sometimes she grizzles while doing that, too, and if you even CONSIDER trying to help her by opening the blanket up, look out, she’ll grumble and swear and pout her way beneath…and don’t even try to pat her through the blanket unless you don’t particularly care if your hand remains in one piece.

She’s adorable, obnoxious, sulky, enchanting, playful, demanding, naughty and thoroughly spoiled. I admit that. Then again, all our animals are spoiled, it’s just that we’ve never had a cat like Evie! She still body-slams DT to the ground (and then we have to rescue DT), she still runs up our backs occasionally, she still almost ends up with toothpaste spat on her head because she insists on checking out the hand basin while you’re doing your teeth, she still almost falls into the fish tank when I’m cleaning it, she still attempts to climb every shelf in the pantry - she’s still Evie. The only difference now is that she sleeps longer, but when she’s awake, boy, do we all know it!!!

And we wouldn’t part with her for the world. Truly, the house would be way too quiet if anything happened to her, she really does keep us on our toes! And Mum would be very lonely in bed without her Evie to snuggle up on her special blanket by Granny’s pillow, and go to sleep with her head in Granny’s hand, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth <g>.

Evie and her beloved Granny

Next Week - Freakin’ Gardening!

A Real Life Encounter & some Ghost stories

2011-10-24T11:42:00.001+08:00

To round off the topic of the Supernatural, I am posting an account of a real life encounter with the supernatural sent to me by Marilyn Kapp.

~*~

My Shadow

Marilyn Kapp.

My granddaughter rescued a kitten from the parking lot of the bank where she worked. She told me she needed to find a home for the kitty because her cat would not accept it. Now I had never thought of myself as a cat person but I took one look at that blue-gray face with the white stripe down its nose and heard myself saying, “Let me take it.”

“Are you sure?” Laura asked with doubt wrinkling her forehead.

That started eighteen months of the most joy I had felt in years. I found myself rushing home from where ever I was just to check on Shadow. I couldn’t bear to leave her alone unless it was absolutely necessary.

We had a game we played in the back yard. I would call, “Where’s my kitty-cat?” and she would run to the nearest Hosta plant and stick her head behind a leaf. I would stroll by as if I didn’t see her. Just as I passed, she would jump out and playfully attack.

After dinner, she always went outside for the last adventure of the day. At bedtime I turned the back light on and she would come home shortly afterwards.

Two nights before Christmas, she didn’t come home. The next morning, my sister and I searched the streets of the neighborhood. I ran ads in the newspaper, and alerted local veterinarians. No luck.

After a few weeks, I gave up. My baby was gone and I would never know what happened to her. Then one night I was almost asleep when I felt a familiar bounce upon the bed. My heart raced with joy. I sat up and looked around. But in the dim light from the street lamp, I could see the bed was empty except for me. This continued night after night for the next few weeks. In that period of time, I began to accept the fact that my Shadow was gone. Otherwise, how could her spirit come to say goodbye?

That was four years ago. But every night, I am still compelled to turn the back porch light on—just in case.

~*~

How utterly heart-warming was that story? Brings a lump to my throat. Thank you so much, Marilyn, for sharing that story with us. Shadow is certainly around you, and you will see her again one day, of that I’m sure.

And now for a couple of true eerie encounters that have happened to my family.

When my father worked for a road building company, we lived in caravans in the outback. The men who worked there without families lived in units aligned together in what was nick-named the ‘single men’s quarters’, while families lived in caravans. In the early days, the ‘married quarters’, as it was termed, was situated 1/4 of a km away from the single men’s quarters, and we didn’t have power or running water, and were well distanced from each other. (Several years later on we were brought closer to the camp and given running water and power.)

On one occasion, our particular caravan was parked behind a hill, right beside an old dirt road. Further up was the old wreck of a ruined car, obviously from an accident some years before. Every Tuesday night at 9pm, if you sat outside and watched, you could see someone walking from a scraggy old tree on one side of the road to the car wreck on the other side of the road. But the only thing you could see clearly were white socks and white shorts, and that was all. The white was in the obvious place where socks and shorts would be. The figure would reach the old car and vanish. It never failed, every Tuesday night. Was it a Tuesday night when the car rolled and someone died in it? You tell me.

When the camp shifted to other road sites, men and families used to travel there on their own. So there we’d be, Mum, Dad, my brother and me, driving along in the car with the caravan behind us and our dogs in the back of the car. Depending how far we had to go, we often camped on the side of the road at night until we reached the new camp site. We could be anywhere from 60 to 400kms from the nearest town.

One particular camp shift, we parked on the side of the road which was partially bitumen, partially dirt. Our dog was a German Shepherd and quite savage with people he didn’t know, so he was tied onto the step of the caravan. You never knew who might stumble upon you on the side of the road, so he was our safety. We had a meal by lantern (yes, people, in the late 70’s early 80s, out in the bush in those camps, we still ate by lantern or candlelight, or generator/battery powered lights). So we had a meal by lantern, Mum cleaned up and we went to bed. And that’s when it started. Within an hour, there was a knock at the door and we were dumb-founded. The dog didn’t charge out from under the caravan, there were no unearthly screams of someone being afraid of the dog, it was just silence except for the knocking on the door. Dad opened the door and there was no one there. The dog was under the caravan, not whining or trembling, just watching silently. No sooner had we gone back to bed than the knocking started again. It went on and off like this for awhile before Dad finally decided it was time to move further down the road!!! Whatever it was didn’t follow us, and when we pulled the car and caravan over into a parking bay this time, peace reined for the rest of the night.

My Dad used to tell a story of his family (I think it was about his father and brothers), during the World War 2 years or just before, back in the

Netherlands

. They were walking along a road near the canals, and coming towards them was a young woman. Pretty and well-dressed, she passed them by as they nodded a greeting, but when they turned around to catch a last glimpse of her, she had vanished. The ghost of an unlucky traveller, perhaps? Who knows.

There were many stories Dad told us of the

Netherlands

and ghosts, but he passed away in 2001, and isn’t here to help me get the facts straight, so I’m reluctant to repeat too many of the stories, as I like to try and get my facts straight. Suffice it to say, a couple of those stories involved a certain hoofed visitor that I really don’t want to think about!

The outback is a lonely place and I believe contains many ghosts, as people have lived and died out there hundreds of miles from help. Strange goings-on in those remote places.

Do I believe in ghosts? You betcha. But I’ll tell you now, I personally don’t believe cemeteries are all that haunted. Okay, maybe by a couple of ghosts, but through personal experience, I reckon hospitals, nursing homes, and places people have actually died are the haunted places.

I’ve worked in hospitals where I’ve heard whispering at night, and no amount of searching through rooms and corridors have produced anything but sleeping patients and no TV or radios on. I’ve felt things, and so have other people who’ve worked in some hospitals. I’ve walked past an empty room and seen the door swing closed slowly - with no one in the room (yes, I checked). I’ve been told of the ghost an orderly saw in a remote hospital, the ghost of a little girl who went from the back of the hospital and disappeared not far from it. He saw it with his own eyes, in broad daylight. He also heard the footsteps in a corridor at night, in the same remote hospital, and seen fans turning on with no one there to switch them on. It was, he was told by nurses who worked there, the ghost of the matron who had previously lived and died in that small town, and who used to work in the hospital. She often walked the corridor at night checking on her patients, they believed. I believe this man because I know him personally - he’s a relative of mine, and a no-nonsense bloke. He also used to drive the ambulance in that town, and many times at night, when the ambulance was parked in the garage and he was in the room next door, he heard the door open and close and voices, and when he investigated, everything was silent and locked up, including the garage door.

There are other stories I’ve heard, the ones about a well near an old, abandoned homestead. It’s said that on a certain night you can go there and hear a woman crying at the well, still searching in vain for the little boy who fell down the well and drowned.

So many stories, and I believe there are many people out there with their own stories and personal experiences. So whatever you believe (or don’t), you have to admit, there’s nothing like a good ghost story (real or fiction) to send a shiver up the spine. After all, the Supernatural has never been disproved, right? And there’s things out there that defy logical explanations.

So that’s the round-up f the Supernatural for me. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did <g>.

Next week - Kitty Catch-Up! What have my kitties been up to?? Oh Evie, Evie, Evie *shaking head*, she’s been at it again!

Spooky, the Weird, the Supernatural! Pt 3: Zombies, Fairies and other Weird Creatures.

2011-10-16T16:00:00.014+08:00

Zombies are the coolest of the monsters. I think I may have said this before <g> but they are. The walking dead, the TRUE walking dead. Rotting corpses that just want to eat the living.

Originally it is said that zombies originated in the deepest, darkest parts of Africa, full of mysticism and witch doctors. I’ve read that they were people given a special powder that made it appear as though they were dead and after they were buried, the witch doctor would dig them up and give them something to bring them back to consciousness. However, they were able to only exist in a trance-like state, ate little, and were made to work in the fields. I’ve also read that the way to break the trance was to give them salt to eat. There are documented cases of witnesses who say they’ve met these zombies, and stories of families who have seen their ‘dead’ relatives working in the fields.

BUT in stories they have evolved, both in movies and books. The zombies who want to eat your brains, have now evolved into eating any part of you they can get hold of. Sort of like a smorgasbord. They have gone from slow, shambling corpses to moving fast, hence their nickname of ‘runners’. Once revived through the dark arts, usually today it’s a biochemist accident, or an act of terrorism.

Damn it, when will those secret experiments finally come to an end?!

Not only that, these rotting corpses have been making their appearance in ROMANCE BOOKS. I kid you not! Now I’m sorry, folks, I love paranormal romances, but I draw the line at zombies being a romantic hero. That’s just not right. That’s SACRILIGEOUS! Writers, do what you want with the blood suckers and moon-howlers, but leave the zombie ALONE!

Fairies - awww, such cute little creatures, no? No. Absolutely not. Well, it kind of depends on what stories you read.

First, from what I have read, it seems as though these fairies - faeries, fae, whatever - were originally the Tuatha De Danann people who came to

Ireland

. They were warrior-type people, giants, and were sometimes regarded as Irish deities. Because of the encroachment of humans, they went underground, hence the ‘fairy mounds’, and became smaller. Over centuries they evolved in folklore to wee people with magical powers, who would steal your children and replace them with a ‘changling’, a fairy child that was weak.

Nice. Lovely. Basically small kidnappers and child dumpers. Really.

They run the gauntlet of ugly to beautiful, using their charm to make humans see what they wish. They run the gauntlet of cowardice to bravery. They are cute in Disney movies and books, and have run the complete gauntlet to kinky, erotic beings that frolic through erotic romance with wild abandon, having group sex and other ‘naughty’ adventures. In urban fantasy, they can be deadly creatures, and even downright nasty and cruel (raise your hands, all those who have read the Merry Gentry series by Laurell K Hamilton! I have and I love them, but gory, people, gory!!!)

Tsk tsk tsk… What a wild ride!!!!!

Mermaids, those sweet half fish, half woman from the seas, along with the arrival of mermen aka The Little Mermaid. Incidentally, The Little Mermaid produced by Walt Disney is a far cry from the Brothers Grimm version, which makes me weep a thousand tears.

Oops, I went poetical. Sorry, that’s so not me!

Anyway, mermaids. It’s believed that sailors at sea mistook dugongs for mermaids. Now I’ve seen dugongs on TV and in books, and I’m telling you, those sailors needed glasses or to cut down on their daily allowance of grog, because how the heck they got a mermaid out of a squat-nosed, bulky dugong, I’ll never know. Maybe I don’t want to know.

I read that the mermaids might actually have originated in the Greek mythology with the Sirens, who used their lovely voices to lure hapless sailors to their doom. Personally, I think that’s what happens when you let lust rule your head and you start to think a dugong is a shapely, beautiful woman. You ARE doomed.

But behold, the mermaid made a comeback in the romance novels, and there they are. To be honest, I haven’t read any mermaid romances, but I know they’re floating around out there. Along with the seals who turn into humans, those little selkies. I’m sorry, having a fishy hero or heroine just doesn’t do it for me in a book. So saying, I know many readers love the selkie and mermaid romances, so good on you for that.

Banshees, oh my, that screaming, sobbing woman who wails your message of doom. Another Irish ghoulie, some say she weeps tears, others blood, and she’s attached to a certain family. So I guess a banshee for each wealthy family in

Ireland

, or of Irish decent. That’d make a pretty crowded country. The banshee is making an appearance in horror movies, and lo and behold, she’s also appearing in romance novels, YA novels, and urban fantasy.

Succubus and Incubus. The Incubus is the male form of a demon that mates with human women in their sleep to produce Incubi, children who are very beautiful and can be evil. The Succubus is a female demon who seduces human men. One opinion I read said that it was the same demon who could take male (Incubus) from or female (Succubus) form for the sole purpose of seducing humans.

There are different versions, and I can’t really say I remember seeing a movie, horror or otherwise, involving Incubus and Succubus, but then again, it’s not really a sub-genre of horror that interests me.

Yes, the good ol’ I & S are making their appearance in erotic romance and urban fantasy, but I have to say, the ick factor in this for me is there. Okay, I can handle them in an urban fantasy, but in romance novels…no go. I’m not knocking those who read or write about them, I’m just saying it’s not to my taste.

Demons were originally fallen angels, those in cahoots with Lucifer, the ‘Morning Star’, (who fell from the grace of God and now rules Hell). The demons work for Lucifer and their sole aim in is to steal the souls of humans from God.

Demons are reviled by Christians and worshipped by Satanists. They feature in horror movies and books as the evil creatures they are, but I wonder if they are truly the ugly demons described. Why? Well, if they’re fallen angels, wouldn’t they be beautiful? Lucifer was supposed to be beautiful. And wouldn’t demons use their beauty to lure humans?

Anyway, demons have made an appearance in paranormal romances, erotic romances, and yes, urban fantasy. Demons are heroes as well as villains, but when portrayed as villains in UF, most of them also ooze sex appeal. Some are close to what they should be (nasty, smelling of sulphur, and out to get your soul aka Lilith Saintcrow’s Jill Kismet books - which are totally awesome, BTW), while others have bleeding hearts and just want to help the heroine come whatever. Okay. Sorry, demons as heroes are another character that just doesn’t do it for me. I can’t even bring myself to believe in them as ‘almost’ a hero for romances. But for those who like this sub genre, again I say good on you. We all have our own opinions.

Gargoyles, those famous, hideous stone creatures that were made and put on top of castles to guard the inhabitants from danger, yes people, they have made it to horror movies, urban fantasy and romance books. Even cartoons (and this is sick, I know, but the gargoyle I saw in a cartoon was…sexy. I know, I know, I’m sick). There’s a cute gargoyle in Kim Harrison’s Rachel Morgan books that I really like, too. Believe it or not, in my town there is a normal house with a gargoyle on the top. Not many have noticed it until I’ve pointed it out to them. I pass it on the way to work every day, and I’m still intrigued!

So yes, I can handle gargoyles in romance novels, even though instead of remaining beasts that move at night, they turn into hunky men, but they do have that protectiveness built into them <g>.

Oh man, there are so many things I could talk about - dwarfs, pixies, giants, yetis, all matter of cute and hideous, the range from spooky to making you laugh, but then I’d be on this subject forever. I’ve really only touched on those that intrigue me the most. The stories of these strange creatures vary according to books, reports and sources, but one thing is for sure, it all steeps from way back a long, long time ago, when humans were rife with superstition and had to make a reason for what they didn’t understand.

And my one belief - behind every legend there’s a grain of truth.

I did get a real encounter story sent to me by a lovely lady, and I’m going to feature it here next week, along with some ghosts stories I’ve heard, so visit this blog and check it out!

Next Week: A Real Life Encounter & some Ghost stories.

The Spooky, the Weird, the Supernatural! Pt 2: Vampires & Werewolves

2011-10-03T14:28:00.003+08:00

There’s a big difference in the way vampires and werewolves were regarded in the past and the way they’re regarded now. Well, depending on what genre you read <g>.

VAMPIRES: The evil dead, rising up from their graves/crypts to suck the blood of the living before returning to their graves/crypts before the sun rises. Nasty beings with breaths that smell of blood, white and pasty faces, long nails, and the stench of the grave upon them. Sometimes they wore rotting clothing. Oh yeah, and they could change into bats and climb walls like freakin' spiders.

In the old days, it was believed that a vampire could be identified by the fact that their hair and nails grew, and they appeared as though they’d recently fed. Science now proves that it’s not the hair and nails that grow, but the skin shrinking on the corpse that makes it appear so. And as for the ‘just fed’ appearance, it is, ghastly thought, gases in the body swelling it up.

Ick, but true.

But in the past, when superstition ruled so strongly, it was a practise in some places to cut the head off a suspected vampire corpse, stuff its mouth with garlic, and lie the head face down in the coffin. I guess that would decrease the appetite of any vampire.

Nowadays they say put them in the sun and have a BBQ.

Gosh, Global Warming really is good for something!

But now with the rise of vampire romances, urban fantasy and horror genres in books and movies, it is changing. Good ol’ Barnabas in Dark Shadows, that old TV soapie of last century (I just love saying ‘last century’. Like it’s a hundred years ago instead of just over 11 yrs), brought the brooding, sexy vampire (not that I thought he was sexy…ick factor on that), with the torment for a long lost love. But he was a mean bugger, no doubt about that, he used to hit his poor old servant and do nasty things to him. So not quite the full hero yet. Or maybe because Political Correctness hadn’t yet skewed with our written and watched genres back then!

Anyway, even in a lot of horror books, the vampire is the undead who drinks blood and dazzles his prey into thinking he’s much better looking than he is. He can still be evil (and usually is), but he seems to be better looking.

Ego much, anyone? Gotta be a well-dressed vamp with all the charm.

And then there are the heroes of the paranormal romance. It all started (if memory serves me correctly) with the dark, brooding vampire wanting an end to his lonely, hellish existence, and he’s saved by the love of his life. He was handsome, dark, lonely, strong and charming. Full sob story.

Then it changed, and it’s been interesting to watch. From the lonely vamp wanting to end it all, to another species that walks side-by-side with humans and are a proud race who also have the ability to change into animals and birds(think the Dark series by Christine Feehan), to vamps mixed with history and mythology (role out Sherrilyn Kenyon’s Dark Hunter series), to vamps that are part of warrior races, to Brotherhoods (hands up, J R Ward) and no doubt a few more I haven’t yet read.

Vampires have become heroes in the paranormal romance world.

In Urban Fantasy, vamps again are usually handsome, but they have a charm and hide themselves from true sight (or many of them do, there are some differences in that some seem to be naturally handsome). It seems that without their glamour, some aren’t so ‘pretty’. In many of the UFs, the vamps come across as cunning, cold and ruthless, with a hold on a lot of the weres.

So from nasty to handsome, proud to egotistical, ruthless, lonely, you name it, the vampires have run that race.

WEREWOLVES/WERES: Okay, the only were we ever used to hear about was the good, old fashioned, werewolf. The man who changed into a slavering, murdering, devouring werewolf.

Back in the old days, the real old days, it was believed that a man could change into a werewolf by the simple process of donning the skin of a wolf. In a couple of books I’ve read, it’s been mixed in a little with witchcraft. I guess the magic bit to make the wolf skin on a man turn him into a werewolf.

Science now recognizes clinical lycanthropy as a real mental disorder, with those affected believing they can become were wolves.

So saying, the werewolf has gone from a slavering, murderous, half man/half wolf, to a full wolf, and back again. Originally they shifted under a full moon and you could become a werewolf through a bite or curse.

Fast forward to the paranormal romance, urban fantasy and horror genres of books and movies, and the werewolf has become a shifter, so there are many forms - were jaguar, were wolf, were cat, were swan, you name it, the were is there! Whatever form the writer finds sexy, or abhorrent, or whatever they need for the story.

The weres are usually in the company of the vamps, in some books, or simply separate in other books. They can be vicious, honourable, handsome or ugly or plain, though usually they have some kind of beauty or something that distinguishes them to anyone skilled enough to see them. They don’t always need a full moon to shift, and not all are murderers. They can control themselves, and some lucky individuals can apparently partially shift, a sign of great power and control. There’s usually a kind of pack mentality, or lone mentality, depending on what animal the were is based on, and this will ultimately control part of his/her character in a book.

Suffice it to say, vampires and werewolves have evolved from hideous, murdering beasts, to handsome, beautiful, mythical beings walking our streets and stealing our hearts.

As long as it’s not literally!!!!

Next week - The Spooky, the Weird, the Supernatural! Pt 3: Zombies, Fairies and other Weird Creatures.

The Spooky, the Weird, the Supernatural! Part 1: GHOSTS

2011-09-25T12:43:00.001+08:00

When I started this particular blog entry, I thought it’d cover everything in one go. Wrong! So I’ve broken it up into several blogs. Not sure how many entries, maybe three? We’ll see!

~*~

Don’t you just love anything that makes your hair stand up on end? Anything that makes the goose-bumps rise over your arms in a wash of good old, heart-thumping, inducing fear? OH YES!

But what are the things that seem to be in this life FOR REAL? That there are arguments for and against, and many people have witnessed?

One: Ghosts. Wraiths. Phantoms. Shades. Impressions. Call them what you like, I prefer the good old fashioned GHOST. That thing that is not there one minute, but right there the next.

There are so many stories about ghosts, so many books and films. What is it about them that while it intrigues us so much, also makes us afraid? After all, aren’t they just some kind of ethereal being that can’t really harm us?

Not if you read some books and watch some documentaries. I read a book written by a ghost hunter (wish I could remember his name, but he’s English and well-known, apparently), and the ghost of a little girl actually followed one of the ghost hunters back to their house. CREEPY! He got this phone call from the lady, and when he went over, there was this ghost girl that they’d previously been ‘hunting’ in an old house. She was on the freakin’ staircase of this lady’s house!

OMG. A ghost that follows you home. That is so far from a stray dog or cat, it’s not funny. Freaky, actually. That story sent a shiver right down my spine. I always thought ghosts were trapped to the one place, that they couldn’t leave it, but obviously not.

I guess it’s like those stories you read about hitchhikers or other ghosts caused by car accidents, and living people give them a lift in their car only to find that their passenger is gone when they look around later. There are the wonderful versions of a puddle on the seat, of the passenger being rather quiet (guess there’s not much to talk about when you keep repeating the same trip over and over), and even the passenger being rather pale (lack of sunlight, people).

There was this story I read about a man who picked up this pretty girl (why is it always the pretty girl? Would they not pick up an ugly one?) and she wanted to go home. Home, it turned out, was the local cemetery. Freaky stuff. It turned out, when he made inquiries, that she was a local girl who had been killed in a car accident.

Then there are the ghosts who apparently haunt bits of furniture. You buy this old furniture and lo and behold, the thing seems to have a life of its own. The rocking chair that rocks, the table chair that moves in and out of its own accord. The wardrobe door that opens and closes - though why a ghost would rather haunt a wardrobe than a chair is beyond me. I could understand wanting your favourite chair, but I can’t say I’ve ever had a favourite wardrobe.

There are ghosts who bring with them a sweet smell, the perfume of a remembered loved-one, or simply their own unique scent. Apparently the ones to be afraid of are those who smell vile, or even worse, of sulphur, but that’s a whole other bit, the sulphur. But the vile smell seems to indicate a bad ghost, and a sweet smell a nice ghost.

There are ghosts who only show a part of themselves - their legs (are they that proud of them?), their heads (because it’s so much scarier to have a head floating around), or a disembodied hand (I don’t want a high five from them, thank you very much).

There are ghosts who apparently just float around, disturbing no one except messing with their minds if they’re a believer, and messing with their minds if they’re a non-believer. Take your choice.

Then there are the nasty ghosts who throw things, or drop things, or set things on fire. Now we’re sliding into poltergeist territory, which is also a controversial one. Are they simply the production of mind power from adolescents (mostly girls - guess that old PMS really does rear its head early), or are they a vengeful ghost who is downright nasty and has to make your life miserable? You tell me. My stand on that one? I think it’s a bit of both, depending on the circumstances.

There are ghosts who haunt new dwellings, mainly because they’ve been built on old dwelling sites. There are ghosts who are mournful and can’t rest eternally, for their guilt over something they’ve done ‘haunts’ them as well. There are other ghosts who apparently were such nasty bits of work when they were alive, that they continue to restlessly pace the earth, up to mischief, I’d wager.

There have been whole battalions of ghosts reported. The battalion of World War (One or Two? Can’t remember) who were heard in a European country by people as a long-gone battle was waged. There was a Roman Legion that marched through a cellar. So many stories.

There are ghost children, usually of those who were cruelly treated or murdered.

And ghost animals, who have come back and owners swear they felt brush against them or even curl up on the bed beside them, just like they used to do when alive. I like that one.

I read in a magazine, or saw on a TV show (I don’t remember which), that ghost are drawn to nurses, police officers, ambulance officers, firemen, doctors, and other people who work at or around tragedies and death. Makes perfect sense to me. I always say cemeteries aren’t haunted, but hospitals, nursing homes and ambulances surely are.

There are reports of famous places being haunted, and not-so-famous places, such as the old Fremantle Prison (West Australia), a previous asylum for the insane in Fremantle, the Greenough River near Geraldton where I live apparently has a ghost of someone who died in a flood, there’s a small museum at Greenough that is also supposedly haunted (it’s an old Colonial house), and Tasmania’s Port Arthur is haunted - so many places I’ve read about or watched on TV. (Mind you, I actually visited Port Arthur and the old Fremantle Prison - awesome!)

So where do I stand on the ghost subject? Love it. Scared of it. Thrilled and chilled by it. Love a good ghost story, fiction and real, and love a good ghost documentary and movie. Yes, I believe in ghosts. I believe in the afterlife. I’ve felt a thing or two, and I know people who are straight down the line and with no imagination whatever, who have had a strange experience.

So maybe I’ll blog about that at the end of this whole “The Spooky, the Weird, the Supernatural” Blog, have something like a Personal Experiences with the Spooky blog entry.

If you have had any personal experiences and would like it to be included in a blog on the subject of Personal Experiences with the Spooky, drop me a line at angelamv@westnet.com.au. I’d love to hear from you! Include in your email that you give permission for the entry to go into the blog, and let me know if you want your name mentioned or not.

And to end this bit on ghosts, if I turned around and saw one right now, I’d need new underwear - STAT!

Next Week: The Spooky, the Weird, the Supernatural! Pt 2: Vampires & Werewolves

apologies for not being here & New Release

2011-09-19T16:07:00.000+08:00

Hi all - this isn't the blog I was going to do, and it's way late anyway. It's just a quick note to apologise and let you know I should be back on deck shortly. Had some ill health, but am on the road to recovery (I hope). It hasn't stopped Evie being naughty, but nothing would, not even the End of the World, I'm sure. I will do the post on the Supernatural once I'm up and about properly, and can stay on-line long enough to do so.

And a good bit of news - Cop's Passion, bk 2 in the Big Girls Lovin trilogy, is now available at Amazon.com in kindle, and Smashwords in various ebook formats. I'm currently organising the print. Here's the new cover, isn't it awesome? And the blurb is below.

Independent, plus-sized nurse Maddy Lovett considered herself pretty easy-going, until she met the Neanderthal living next door…then the trouble started.

Hulking cop Mike Carson was old-fashioned in his regard to the ladies, until he started to have a couple of run-ins with the curvy cutie next door…then the trouble started.

And then there was the stray kitten…

So that's the latest. As soon as I can sit long enough to write a decent blog, I will be back! Hopefully within a week or two.

cheers

Fashion Rant!

2011-09-04T13:19:00.002+08:00

Good grief, I can just about hear some people think, you’re a woman - what could you possibly have against fashion?

For starters, I’m a woman who doesn’t follow fashion, but there’s a lot about fashion that sets me on a rant fest!

For starters - seriously, people, have you really looked at some of the fashions in the magazines? And I have to say - good grief, what the heck is on the freakin’ cat walks?

Some models walk down it with make-up on that I’m sure was put on backstage by a three year old. And the clothes - one model had a dress on (at least, I think it was a dress) that looked like a marshmallow had blown up and dropped down on her.

Then there was the frock that had something huge on one side of the neck area which reminded me of a lop-sided, frilled-neck lizard. She actually walked down the catwalk in that? Whaaaa….?

Shapeless clothes, weird clothes, shiny clothes you need to wear glasses to look at. Pants that could have only come from Bobo the Clown’s wardrobe. Shirts that almost show the boobies, and not in a flattering way. Clashing colours, huge frills, big bows, daggy hems. Skirts so tight I think they had to sew them on the models, which was pretty scary because the models were so skinny I was worried they’d break their toothpick legs as they wobbled down the catwalk in these ridiculous high heels.

I have yet to see a person, famous or not, wearing some of those ridiculous creations on the catwalk. I’d be too ashamed to put them in my dogs’ kennel. Really.

Speaking of heels - what the freakin’ heck are all these studs on the shoes? Studs, people! One kick from them would have a person looking like he’d been hit with a meat tenderiser. And the shoes nowadays, the fashion - it hurts my eyes! Great big wedges under the pads of the foot and toe area that has the wearer towering around and looking like they have abnormally thick feet. Ewwwww.

Okay, that’s a personal taste I admit, some people like those shoes, but for me - ewwww! Whatever happened to the neat little pump? Classy, people, classy! You can’t go past classy!

Handbags. OMG. They look like you could carry a tent in some of them. You see pictures of the movie stars with these huge big bags that seriously, are they really carrying anything in it apart from their gold cards? They have these people to help them carry their shopping (a la fancy bags from fancy shops with fancy labels and with fancy clothes/shoes in them) and while the help stagger around with the loads, the stars walk around with these flippin’ great bags. Some of the stars are so tiny that they look like kids playing dress up with Mum’s handbag.

And the dinky bags they use when they go out. Really? Spikes on the bag? That must be soooo comfortable. Good way to discourage a date from heavy petting too. You could smack him in the face and have him looking (and feeling) like he’d been hit with a meat tenderiser.

So that brings me to my fashion issues. The issues that personally affect me.

First off, why is it that plus-sized clothes have to be so damned ugly? Red and black patterns, big cabbage flowers, no-shape long pants, and you have to buy your clothes in 3 different freakin’ sizes because whoever makes the brand obviously uses a sliding scale. I have 3 different sizes in my wardrobe that I wear all the time.

3 different sizes, people? Seriously? Does fashion not have set sizes anymore? The age of technology has really helped us, hasn’t it?

So apart from damned ugly colours and patterns that shout out “Look at this wearer! Look what she has to wear!” we also have the shape of clothes. Look, my hips and backside are big, but my legs are a little thinner. I don’t need people to think that my legs are the same size as my hips. I have one shape from the toes to the waist, apparently, because that’s how all the long pants are made. ARGH!!!! I look like a fat pole, all one shape! I’m not! I have curves, baby, so give me something to show my curves! To top the totally frustrating clothes-buying episode off, if my hips are big, my legs must be six feet long, and I can’t find my feet under all the fabric.

And tops. TOPS! I try to buy a nice winter shirt and what happens? The sleeves are three quarters. Apparently in winter, the other quarter of my arms don’t get cold. I didn’t know this. I’m obviously backward because my freakin’ arms get cold a quarter of the way up. From my hand to the middle of my forearm, it’s gone blue with cold. And what the heck is with the freakin’ necklines? Apparently my neck and top of my chest don’t get cold, either, because the style is to have a deep v-neck or - get this, this is just freakin’ great - a scoop neck that goes from shoulder to shoulder, and it keeps slipping off one freakin’ shoulder! ARGH!!!!!

And to top it off, if I’m big in my hips, I must have arms five feet long and boobs the size of Mount Everest, because the shirt I have to choose to fit me is big in the hips and the same size all the way up. Now I can’t find my boobs (which is pretty amazing, ‘cause they aren’t little, let me give you the tip), and my hands have disappeared inside the sleeves.

So by the time I buy some clothes, have them taken up, let out, taken in, I really just can’t be bothered. I hate shopping for clothes, really hate it. I find one thing that fits me and I buy it in every colour available.

Why can’t the fashion people simply put out the nice clothes in every different size so we can all wear it? I’m big, people, but I’m not blind or stupid!

Sheesh!!!!! Now if only I had the patience to learn how to sew my own clothes…

Next Week: The Spooky, the Weird, the Supernatural!

Angry Abby, Evil Evie and Box Girl - the Furries.

2011-08-30T14:21:00.002+08:00

I thought you might like to know what the furries have been up to. I have to say, most of them have behaved themselves, there’s just been a few hiccups.

Firstly, Abby. Abby is fluffy and fat, I admit this. She takes after me, only I’m not fluffy. Unfortunately, Abby has a worse temper than me, and little patience when I try to clean UNMENTIONABLES off her furry bottom. Yes, people, she had dags on her fluffy bottom and back britches. I tried to wash these icky things off and the result - got sworn at by Abby. I tried to brush them off and the result - scratched and sworn at by Abby. So I enlisted Mum’s help (poor, innocent woman…) and a good towel and the result - bloodshed.

You can see it wasn’t my best idea.

So I ended up taking Abby to the vet to have her bottom and back legs shaved. Yes, she had to be sedated, and I don’t think it was a pleasant time for the vet or nurses involved while she was being sedated. But she came back looking great, or as great as a cat can with a bald bum and inside back legs. Okay, it was funny, but I had to hide my laughter or risk being clawed to death in her indignity.

Abby: "I'm not impressed. NOT IMPRESSED!!!"

Now Abby has a cold bum when she sits on the floor, no hair to stop the chill of the tiles you see. Boy, was Abby royally cheesed off with me and everyone else. She swore and picked a fight with two of the other cats (most unfortunate) and snarled at me every time I got near her. I was NOT her favourite person anymore!

To make matters worse, it was pointed out to me (and if you’re reading this, Sam, it was YOU) by my vet nurse that Abby has put on 2 kgs. Yes, I am a bad mother! Abby had lost 2 kgs on her last diet sessions, but due to letting things slide, yes…she has put it back on. In fact, I was informed that she had put more on than she previously weighed at her heaviest.

Which supports my theory that dieting is bad for you ‘cause it makes you put on weight!!!!!

So now Abby is back on the diet biscuits, though…hey, as a good friend pointed out (waving to Rhonda) you can’t start a diet until a Monday, ‘cause we all know Mondays are the start of diet days! (And you spell diet DIE with a T).

So one angry kitty in Abby.

Secondly, Polly. Polly (full name Pollyanna) is Abby’s daughter. She has become Box Girl. Yes, Box Girl.

The Box Girl has found a new fad, aka the Box. This is a very small Box which she squashes her ample little body into, and then sits there peering around. Box Girl thinks she looks quite the pretty and mysterious kitty. She loves this Box. She loves it so much that she slept in it outside on the back veranda…in the cold. Mum and I thought she’d come in out of the cold, but no, Box Girl said she couldn’t leave her Box, it was the Best Box Ever and she was going to stay in it FOREVER.

Good grief, she meant it, too. Mum had to take her food out to her the next morning and put it on the little table beside the Box, and only then would Box Girl get out of the Box and eat the food. Beside the Box. And the Box Girl went back into her Box and stayed there all day.

Polly aka Box Girl - in the Best Box Ever!

I kid you not. Box Girl had an unhealthy obsession with that Box. I even had to bring the Box into the house with Box Girl inside it, because she refused to leave the Best Box Ever and I was worried she’d end up a frozen Box Girl. (It's cold Down Under)

Anyway, Box Girl was a little perturbed but she went with the flow. As long as she was in her Box, she was a happy Box Girl. Then came the day that Mum, while Box Girl was using the litter tray, accidentally put the Best Box Ever into another box while she was cleaning, and Box Girl didn’t like that. Oh no, the Best Box Ever was now CONTAMINATED and that was that - she couldn’t ever go in the No-Longer Best Box Ever. Homeless, the formerly known-as Box Girl had to resort to sleeping on the bed once more.

Life is cruel.

Thirdly, Evie. Come on, did you really think Evie wasn’t going to get a mention in the not-well-behaved section? Seriously???

Evie tormented me the other day. Yes she did. I was in the shower, and while drying myself, I looked up and there she was on top of the cupboard eyeballing me and bracing herself on the edge of the cupboard, getting ready to leap at me over the curtain rail.

I was very calm. “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Mum came hurrying to see what was up and Evie, spotting her beloved Granny, fell onto her side on top of the cupboard and proceeded to roll around looking all cute.

As soon as my mother left the bathroom, there was Eve of Destruction, aka Evil Evie, perched on the edge of the cupboard, eyes all big and black, backside wiggling as she prepared to leap.

“MUUUUUUUUUUUM! Mum, Help! HELP!”

Mum comes running and Evil Evie flops onto her side, so that by the time her beloved Granny comes through the door, Evil Evie is looking all sweet and cute and rolling around going, “look at me! Aren’t I the sweetest little baby?” Which is just what her granny said, too.

Evie: "It's all lies. I'm innocent!"

Mum left again. By now I was starting to laugh, and looking back on it, it had a touch of hysteria to it. Mainly because Evil Evie was back to stalking me again. I had the towel up, yelling and laughing and getting a little hysterical, and finally - FINALLY - Mum caught her in the act and rescued me by catching Evil Evie and taking her out of the bathroom.

I kid you not. I had to be rescued from a half grown cat. I am so embarrassed…

And that’s not the last of Evil Evie. Oh no, she had more in store for me. If it’s not enough that I have to dodge her when I’m brushing my teeth, otherwise I’ll end up spitting toothpaste on her head while she’s looking down the plug-hold, but I was trying to trim my fringe and…yes, I know, how stupid am I for not shutting the bathroom door? There was Evil Evie, up on the cupboard and placing herself right ion front of my face, effectively blocking the mirror and sniffing my hair and giving her opinion on the whole subject. I think she was trying to supervise me, because she was really interested, so here I am, supposedly getting ready for work, trimming my hair, unable to see the mirror thanks to a certain little furry body in the way, and trying to avoid trimming a set f whiskers that kept poking themselves into my eye as Evil Evie investigated the job I’d already done.

How that fringe ever stayed straight I have no idea, though I’m still finding the odd long bit whenever I comb it…

So basically, that’s a bit of a catch-up so far. Most of the furries have been behaving themselves and I always get a little worried about that, it’s like waiting for a storm to hit. I’m watching the build-up. You never know when it’s going to blow!

Theo: "See what I have to live with?"

Next week….Fashion Rant!

Books I Love: part 3 - Miscellaneous Books I Love

2011-08-22T16:31:00.001+08:00

I had to have this section for books that don’t really fit under some series and, well, just because I think they come more under the misco title LOL.

Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice (horror) - is this the ultimate vampire book or what? It was the very first book I read by Rice, and out of the series, I say this was the best by far. I even liked the movie, which was pretty close to the book, and though I can’t say I like Tom Cruise as an actor, he did Lestat really well. And Brad Pitt as the tormented Louie…*swoon*

Death’s Acre by Dr Bill Bass & Jon Jefferson (factual) - There really is a Body Farm in Tennessee, where bodies donated to science are put in various settings and temperatures to check decay and insect activity, etc. It’s all forensic science. A bit of an ‘ick’ read at times, but engrossing as well.

Boris Vallejo & Julie Bell (fantasy art) - I have about five different books featuring the artwork of this husband and wife duo. Awesome artwork - warriors, dragons, monsters, mermaids, a feast for the eyes to those who appreciate the beauty in fantasy art.

Royal Blunders & Historical Blunders by Geoffery Regan (factual) - both of these books make for fascinating and fun reading. Okay, there is still an ‘ick’ factor in a couple of accounts (remember, some of this is set way back before it was frowned upon to torture people in the name of the law or just because you could, being King and all). But what eye-opening happenings!

Mysteries, Ghosts, hauntings, paranormal (factual) - Haunted Britain and Ireland, The Unexplained Mysteries, Out of this World, Ghost Sightings, The Complete Book of Ghosts, etc. I haven’t listed all the titles here, but I have a lot of books on mysteries, unusual and unexplained happenings, hauntings, UFOs, etc. Love them, believe in them…because the truth is out there, you know? Seriously.

White Coolies by Betty Jeffrey (biography) - Betty Jeffrey is one of the surviving Australian Army nurses who, when they were evacuated in 1942 from Malaya, had their ship bombed and sunk by the Japanese. Of the 53 that survived the bombing, 21 were murdered and the rest taken prisoner. A look into history and the courage of human nature.

Time Life Books:

- Myth and Mankind, “Celtic”, “Greek & Roman”, “Slavic”, “Egyptian”, and “Viking & German”.

- What Life was Like, “In the Realm of Elizabeth”, “When Longships Sailed”, “Among Druids and High Kings”, “At the Dawn of Democracy”, “On the Banks of the Nile”, “In the Age of Chivalry”, and “When Rome Ruled the World”.

Time Life produces some great books, and for the history buffs amongst us, these are really informative. I learned things I didn’t suspect. And for those of you who have watched The 13th Warrior starring Antonio Banderos, do you remember that scene where the Viking men are handing a bowl of water down the table and everyone washes from it (and spits and…you get the idea?) - all true!

So that’s it for the 3 part saga of the books I love and why. No doubt there will be more books in the future, because great books are always being written and/or discovered.

So next week….hmmm…catch-up time on what the furries have been doing!

Hooroo for now!

Books I Love part 2: Old Books I Love

2011-08-14T12:07:00.002+08:00

We have some books in our library that are old. Some were bought when I was a child (many moons ago), and others are from my mother and grandmother’s days.

The ones I love so much would have to be Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie series. It is very different from the TV show (or from what I saw of the show, which wasn’t much as we had no TV for years as we lived out bush, and only saw TV when we were on holiday in town). The American west, the little family of four girls that originally started with two only, Mary and Laura. Mary was so graceful and womanly, and poor Laura obviously wasn’t so, though now I look back on these books and wonder if that’s simply the way the author saw herself? I love how the younger two sisters appear with no mention of pregnancy, another point to the time the books were actually written.

Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women series - who can possibly forget that? The March family - Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy. The actual book of Little Women that we have was illustrated by Rene Cloke. There is no publishing date on it, but my mother got it as a present in 1952 (or 1954). It’s large with a green hard cover and thick paper, and the most delightful illustrations, as well as beautiful colour plates. I bought the rest of the series when I was in my early teens (*cough* many moons ago) and it remains one of my favs today.

There are a lot of old books from my mother and grandmother, and all of them have the same wonderful style - old, hard covers - some with illustrations on them and some without, and even more delightful, most of them have plates - proper drawings on shiny paper sprinkled throughout the books. Most of them centre around teenagers or young adults, and one of them in particular sticks out in my mind. ‘The Glad School’ by Constance Mackness had all the delightful boarding school things I imagined, with two girls called Wuzzie and Twinkle and their escapades. Ah, how I wished back when I was a young teenager that I, too, could go to a boarding school like this! Thank God my parents never sent me, as I think it was far removed from the book!

Some of these old books are:

Leave it to Madge by Marjorie Saunders (1953)

The Glad School by Constance Mackness

Marjorie Dean High School Senior by Pauline Lester

Merry Again by Clare Mallory (1947)

The Little Colonel’s Hero by Annie Fellows Johnston (my Grandma got it in 1923)

Little Bit ‘O Sunshine by Isabel M Peacocke (my Grandma got it in 1925)

Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll (Mum got it in 1952)

Because they’re so old, I wonder about the authors, and it gives me a peek into the window of times past that happened before I was born.

And who could go past James Herriot? I love his books! They made me laugh and cry, he had such a gift with words, and brought all those animals and owners to life on the pages.

Mary Grant Bruce wrote the Billabong series, and though Mum read the series when she was little, we bought the books when I was a teenager. The story of a ‘little bush maid’ who grew up on a station (ranch for my US friends), the travel through her childhood with her family and friends, through the first world war when they moved to London, England, and then when they came back. It spanned quite a few years.

Reach for the Sky by Paul Brickhill (1957 edition) is an inspiring story of a pilot in the 2nd World war who lost his legs, but lived to fly again and torment the Germans when he was finally caught and imprisoned. An amusing read, but also inspiring and a little sad.

Two other books that are quite old, are ‘They’re a Weird Mob’ by Nino Culotta and ‘Gone Troppo’ by John O’Grady. (I understand that John O'Grady also wrote as Nino Culotta, which explains the similar humour) Talk about laugh! Nino’s book is about an Italian who comes to Australia in the fifties, if I remember correctly, and John’s book is about an outback man in the same era. OMG, I laughed so hard when I first read them! The time before political correctness corrupted our ideas! So fresh, so unique to the time the books were set in, it’s a wonderful trip back to a time when Australia was so much more innocent and proud.

Well, there are probably more books I may have forgotten. Yep, all books are back in our libraries, but not in order. But these are the ones I could lay my hands on to share with you. Please, if you have any old books you love, share a bit about them with me!

Next week part 3 - Miscellaneous Books I Love

Books I Love - Pt 1: 'Modern Books I Love.

2011-08-07T18:10:00.002+08:00

I APOLOGIZE! Honestly it’s not my fault that I’m SO LATE with the blog! My computer has been packed away for over a week and I’ve had severe jitters knowing this blog was late, and that I haven’t been able to check my emails, do my newsletter, do my blog, and write. NOTHING AT ALL! But, good news, all the painting is done and now I’m back on-line!

*kissing computer* I love you, computer!!!!

So now, on to the wonderful subject of Books I Love and Why. I love books, and this week I’m going to share with you the books I love, and why I like these particular titles and some series. However, I didn’t realise how hard this was going to be, there are so many books that I like, so instead, I’m going to split what was supposed to be one blog, into 3 parts.

Today is part 1 - Modern Books I Love.

Next week part 2 - Old Books I Love

Week After part 3 - Miscellaneous Books I Love.

One thing before I start on about the different books is to say that sometimes I like one book or one series from a particular author, but I don’t necessarily like other books by the same author, which is why some titles you won’t see here even if I’ve listed other titles from the author as liked.

Clear as mud? LOL Let’s get to it, then!

Janet Evanovich: Stephanie Plum series, Diesel and Tucker series, and Alex Barnaby series. (mysteries and some romance) I love these series because they are light, entertaining, laugh-out-loud funny, and sometimes outrageous. Very un-PC at times and the scrapes the heroine finds herself in - what’s not to love?! Great characters, great mysteries, and great stuff-ups!

I have to note, however, that I don’t like the Alex Barnaby graphic novels. I hope JE puts out more Alex Barnaby in the written novels, not just the graphic.

Christine Feehan: Dark series (paranormal romance). The Carpathian vampires, the old-world attitude of the men, the secrets of the Carpathians, the darkness that dwells in the heroes, and the light that is provided by their mates. *sigh* True romance at its best. I love the old-world attitude, the need to protect the women, the hint of cruelty that lies beneath the exterior of some of the men, yet how gentle and firm they can be with their women. Okay, maybe it’s not ‘politically correct’, but you know what? In my opinion, sometimes romances (or other books) don’t always need to be PC, they give us escapism, and I love them. Rock on Dark books!

Sherrilyn Kenyon: Dark Hunters & Were Hunters series. (paranormal romance) I mostly love the earlier books in these series, though I still buy the later editions as well. The dry wit, the interaction of the humans and supernatural, the sprinkle of ancient legends, it’s a heady mix to make your mouth water and your imagination delight!

Laurell K Hamilton: Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series. (urban fantasy) Whoa baby, if you were to ask which series has caused such discussions on the internet (and sometimes a little heated), then it would have to be this series, surely? I love it, personally. I see how Anita Blake started out as a heroine who saw only black and white in regards to the ‘monsters’, only to have her ideas challenged on her journey through each story until now she sees so much in grey, and can understand and even sympathise with the ‘monsters’, and now she carries the strains of some of these ‘monsters’ inside herself. LKH doesn’t back away from the gruesome, the sex, the nightmares, or the wonder of this series. Yes there is a lot of sex in the later books, but I see past that to the development of the heroine. Still a must-by for me.

***

I have a weakness for light mysteries with some romance, humour, interesting characters and a good mystery. The books are told from the first person POV, usually the heroine. These are books I can just kick back and enjoy, and feel good about later. The authors and their series that fall under this category are:

Rhonda Pollero - Finley Anderson Tanner mysteries

Sheryl Anderson - Molly Forrester mysteries

Laura Levine - Jaine Austen mysteries

Lois Greiman - Chrissy McMullen mysteries

Gemma Halliday - High Heels mysteries

Lisa Lutz wrote the Spellman mysteries, told from the heroine’s POV, but focussed not only on the latest mystery but heavily featuring her private eye family and their weird and whacky happenings. Very entertaining.

J D Robb: In Death series. (romantic suspense, heavy on the suspense) This is a long and still on-going series, but the growth of the characters is so amazing. Even the side characters have a life of their own, and the constant shift of happenings in their lives that shape each and every one of the characters, both major and minor, is an artwork. It has great characters, intriguing murder mysteries, and wry wit when needed.

Rob Thurman: The Cal Leandros series (urban fantasy). Two brothers so very close, one protective, the other a loose cannon, both with a strong love and loyalty to each other. A rich cast of characters, monsters, weird happenings, and drier wit than you can imagine.

Also The Trickster series - exactly as above, but featuring different characters.

Kim Harrison: The Hollows series (urban fantasy). The first book in the series blew me away. I could just imagine everything, and I tell you, seeing the heroine dig herself deeper and deeper into the world of demons while trying to stay alive AND on the right side of the supernatural laws - well, this series is an automatic buy for me! Intense moments, darkness, despair, and yet it has loyalty, friendship, and humour as well.

Julie Garwood: love her historical romances. They are light, so easy to read, and just, well, wonderful. I wish she wrote more! But my favourite is a series she wrote set in the historical west, starting with For the Roses, about a rag-tag group of orphaned boys who find a baby girl on a rubbish pile and proceed to make themselves a family. It’s so heart-warming. For the Roses is about the heroine. It follows on with the Clayborne brides, where the rag-tag boys, all grown up now, find themselves brides. The Clayborne Brides was originally released as three small novels titled: One Red Rose, One White Rose, and One Pink Rose.

Dara Joy: High Energy & High Intensity (contemporary romance) - though I enjoyed her paranormal series, the two romances that stand out the most to me are High Intensity & High Energy, two contemporary romances that feature the same hero and heroine. Funny, engaging, romantic and great reads.

Ilona Andrews: Kate Daniels series (urban fantasy). It’s wonderful how Ilona Andrews has introduced a magic wave that brings and ebbs magic. Shape shifters and a strong heroine, with a touch of romance, it’s a good read.

Patricia Briggs: Mercy Thompson series (urban fantasy). This series is such a growth of characters and laws, and learning boundaries with the unexpected. I never quite know what is going to happen in each book, and that’s the intriguing part of it!

Lilith Saintcrow: Jill Kismet series (urban fantasy). This is a gritty series, reminding me almost of an UF set in a historical western town, or late 1920s! I don’t know why, it just does. There’s nothing nice about the demons, and the work of a hunter is hard and nasty. As I said, a gritty series, dark, hard, and I loved it!

Mark Henry: Amanda Feral series (urban fantasy). As it states on his website “promiscuous, politically incorrect, and down right nasty zombie bitch” (http://www.markhenry.us/). Loved it so much and laughed-out-loud!!!

Cindy Cruciger: Revenge Gifts.com (contemporary romance) A funny romance about gifts given in revenge. A real hoot and a totally different read! I just wish the author had written more books *sniffle*, but I can’t find any.

*****

So that’s my current round-up of modern books that I read and love. If you have any other suggestions, I’d love to hear them! Of course, there have been a lot of other books I’ve enjoyed, but these are on my keeper shelf, both in e-books and print <g>.

Next week - Part 2 “Old Books I Love” Join me in discovering my old reads and old books!

Bits on Books, Painting and Stuff

2011-07-27T10:23:00.002+08:00

Hi everyone

I know I promised to do a chat on all the books I love, but it’s been a madhouse here. And I don’t mean just Evie. This is the first time I’ve managed to get back onto the ‘net, since we’ve been busy packing up rooms, shifting furniture, having our friend paint the rooms, then shifting everything back into the rooms. But I promise to do a blog on the books I like next time.

Meanwhile, while packing up books, I stumbled across several old ones. Our Uncle Charlie: And That’s The Way She Goes” was published in 1964, it’s a biography, and it’s a hoot! Uncle Charlie lived with the author’s family when she was a girl, and they were quite poor from the sounds of it. Really old Aussie style battlers on a farm. I remember how sad it was in the book when Uncle Charlie died, but before then, he did so many funny things…. Anyway, here’s the cover:

Another old book I stumbled across was Chubby’s First Term by Peter Fraser, published in London in 1952. Got the thick cover and thick paper, too. It’s a boy’s book, and I remember enjoying it immensely when I was young(er).

There are other old books I stumbled across, too, and I must do a blog on them, as they’re so good… The Little Colonel’s Hero, Merry Again, Madge, Little Bit O’ Sunshine - all books from my mother and grandmother’s days. I can’t find them now, they’re all in this stack of books somewhere…

There're more books BEHIND these stacks that you can't see!!

Meanwhile, back on the painting front…work has been good to me, they’ve let me take a couple of annual leave days while it’s been quiet, which has allowed me to do a lot more.

But…*GAH!* It’s driving me mental! I like things in their place, so having everything everywhere is driving me nuts. And it’s not just the shifting of things, it’s shuffling the furries! They are NOT PLEASED, I can tell you that. DESERTED, they told me. LEFT ALL ALONE, one sniffled. ABANDONED! Evie sobbed at the back door.

Yes, it has been fun…not. I mean, really, would you honestly allow your furries loose when there’s paint around? Would we let Evie loose when there’s paint around? Seriously? I’m not the brightest bulb in the light department, but even I’m not that dim.

And it’s not like being shut in the back room is so bad. They have their beds, their food and water, they can nap in the sun, and they have access to their run and the cattery. But no, because that magic door between the back room and the rest of the house is shut, we are CRUEL and NASTY and they would call the RSPCA if they knew how to work the phone - and had thumbs!

Lily: "I hope you know how hard-done by I am, having to sneak a snooze in the writing room which is FULL OF JUNK and I am reduced to sleeping on the curtain draped over the box!"

But anyway….anywaaaaaaaaaaaaay, here I am, pinching an hour on the internet until our friend comes to paint. I’m doing catch-up. My email box is overflowing and there’s a nice notice from my internet provider that my email box is full. So I’m doing my bit, downloading the emails and updating my late blog. Again.

So let me clue you in. I’m sitting here in my little writing room (former store room), my little sanctuary, surrounded by heaps of books which are towering up from the floor, a box of toys for my niece when she comes to visit, photo albums, curtain rods, fans, picture frames, boxes of stuff, Mum’s guitars, and a small chest of drawers. I can barely move. These are out of the front room. Yes, all from ONE ROOM.

I said to Mum, “For two people who live here, we have a lot of junk”. Okay, that’s the polite way I put it. Really, it sort of went something like this, “What the *&%@! is all this &^#@! junk? How the &^$@! can two people have so much &$#@! junk?!” You get the idea. But in my defence, by now my knuckles were dragging on the ground from my legs sagging at the knees, and the muscles in my backside and thighs killing me from squatting and bending picking up *^$@#! stuff and shifting it. Then shifting it all back.

Right now Lily is climbing on everything and Evie is stalking her. I should stop them but I’m too tired…and I only got up one and a half hours ago. Only another thirteen hours and I can go back to bed. Seriously, I went from 7am yesterday morning to 7pm last night doing nothing but shifting *&$@! stuff and washing walls. Do you know how much fluff and dirt gets onto the walls and under the furniture? Well, yes, you probably do, but I’m having a moment here, so…

Anyway, while I was packing up all the books yesterday (took me all AFTERNOON!), Evie was being helpful by nosing around all the packed stacks. Making me nervous… Got her on camera in fact. Here you go:

So anyway, I guess I’d better go now. Our friend will be here soon to continue the painting, so I won’t be able to get on-line for several days again. Yes, my internet cord runs from my backroom, through the dining room and lounge, so unless I want him to trip and break a leg (which I don’t), it’s off-line until I’ve got the ‘all clear!’ again.

So next time (and I give you fair warning, it’ll probably be around next Wed) I promise to discuss the books I love.

Cheers!

Put to Bed by the Cat

2011-07-20T16:05:00.005+08:00

Firstly, sorry for the late entry. I spent the last two days holed up in bed with a bad cold. Today is my first day up, so here I am!

And I know, what a title for this entry. ‘Put to bed by the cat?’ you ask incredulously. This is so, and it was I who was put to bed by one of my cats. I didn’t even know it was happening until the second day!

Firstly, to clue you into things, my mother has to put Evie to bed. I kid you not. Evie likes to have a nap during the day, but refuses to have it until my mother (her beloved Granny) lies down for her nanna nap. So Mum gets Evie and they both lie down, and after about 30 minutes Mum gets up and Evie continues sleeping. Even when Evie was a little kitten, Mum had to lie down with her for about 10 minutes until Evie fell asleep, otherwise, no matter how tired Evie was, she wouldn’t go to bed. So Mum literally put the kitty to bed. That hasn’t changed.

So how the heck did the cat start putting me to bed? It still boggles my mind.

Lily has always been more my cat than Mum’s (just as Evie is more Mum’s cat than mine). She often sleeps with me. Well, last week I ended up working two nightshifts at the hospital, and so saying, I’d come home about 7:45 - 8am, have a nice warm shower and go to bed. Darling Lily would be waiting for me, and she’d hop up and cuddle down next to me. When I awoke, there she'd be. So as you can see, I had not a clue as to what was really happening. It was only the second day that I found out, quite by accident, that Lily was putting me to bed. Because of a comment I made to Mum, this, I found out, was what Lily was doing when I worked nightshifts and slept during the day…

Tori (16 yrs), Lily (3yrs) and me (no comment)

I’d come home, have a shower, she’d be waiting for me, and we’d both hop into bed, have a cuddle and go to sleep. Once I was asleep, Lily would hop off the bed and go and snooze on Mum’s bed, then, just before I woke up, she’d hop back into my bed and cuddle up, so when I awoke, there she was.

I WAS PUT TO BED TWO DAYS IN A ROW BY MY CAT! How humiliating…or cute…or downright funny!!!

Needless to say, while I spent two days this week sick in bed, the cats thought it was great and piled on. I was in a kitty pile. Felt rather like a sick kitten in-between the litter…

Evie has been up to her usual shenanigans. I caught her on camera trying to catch the fish in the fish tank while I was cleaning it. PROOF!!!!

She’s also got this running up our backs firmly entrenched in her over-working mind. It gets worse, though - I know, what a surprise - I was in the shower the other morning, and Evie was playing around on the other side of the shower curtains as usual, when suddenly I heard this war cry ‘WAAUGH!’ and I caught this glimpse of a flying torti & white (the US calico & white) flying through the air, and I sort of screamed a little ‘WAAUGH!’ because somewhere in the primitive part of my mind I knew I was under attack, and I jerked my arm up with the towel half draped across it (thank God) and within a blink, there she was - Evie balancing on the length of my arm as I held it slanted in the air. Big eyes (both mine and hers), and both a little astounded.

Mum thought it hilarious. Really, I get no sympathy. Evie got a kiss and cuddle from her Granny and I got zilch. Go figure.

Evie has also been pushing her luck with the big cats. She has got a very strong, dominating personality (gee, ya think?), and she’s been muscling onto the big cats. Three of them boxed her ears at separate intervals yesterday, and today - I mean, really, who would do such a dumb thing? - Evie tried to muscle in on Da Polly, and NO-ONE muscles in on Pollyanna. Polly swore at her, promising DIRE results, and Evie took off like a rocket.

So that’s pretty much what has happened here lately. Our usual, quiet time…

Next week, I thought I’d share with you the books I love, and why.

The following week, I’ll rant about what I HATE in books!

Hooroo for now!

RANT: FOOD AND CHEFS ON REALITY TV

2011-07-11T18:34:00.005+08:00

Now don’t get me wrong, I quite enjoy watching cooking on TV. I start off saying I’m NOT going to watch another freaking’ reality show, but the cooking contests get to me, and I end up watching them. It’s kind of like being attracted to disasters, only it’s happening in the kitchen.

You know what I’m talking about, let’s not be coy. Seeing the contestants strutting their stuff, all agog and eager, only to dissolve faster than sugar in water as the heat (like the pun?) climbs. And the chefs look their disapproval and give hard-eyed looks from under lowered brows as they taste the obviously *nasty* offerings placed before them. How they love making the contestants squirm, and then being all nice at the end and making the losers cry… a nice touch after they looked like they were going to beat the living crap out of the contestants with a bunch of celery.

But this is a rant, not a proclamation of admiration, but a RANT.

So what, you may ask, can I possibly rant about when watching TV shows on cooking? In fact, people, this actually includes ALL cooking programs, be it a recipe in a book or magazine, or on TV. But reality TV is where I usually see the big SINS, so it’s mostly those I can refer to.

Two big SINS… and here’s the first…

RAW MEAT. I mean, what is it about raw meat? I want my meat well-done, cooked so there’s no blood. What do the chefs on the reality TV series want? Meat that’s singed on both sides and bloody in the middle. ‘Well done!” they say, and they DON’T mean as in cooked. They think anything with blood running out of it is cooked awesomely. A winner. *GAG* When I want a steak or meat of any kind, I want it well done. Slap a piece of meat on a plate that’s ready to get up and walk away, and I’m about spewing on the floor. What the hell is it with half raw meat? You know what I think? I think the chefs don’t know how to cook a well-done steak or other meat, without it getting tough. Face it, our meat nowadays gets tough as soon as it sights a fry pan, so the best way to strut around and proclaim a piece of meat is cooked just right, is to slap it each side in the pan, and throw it on your plate, garnish it with rabbit food and present it - tah dah! RAW MEAT ON A DAMN PLATE COVERED IN RABBIT FOOD!

You can’t fool me, chefs! You can’t fool me, wanna-be-chefs! I don’t reckon you cook a well-done steak because no chef can cook a freakin’ well-done steak and still have it TENDER!!!!!

In fact…OMG…get this. On one episode of a reality TV show, they were eating - wait for it - RAW MEAT! OMG! Freakin’ raw meat! I mean, are we back in the cave man days? Are we reverting back to hitting some poor dumb beast (no, not a politician) on the head and throwing it on a plate and eating it? Shall we just do away with the plate, knife, fork and fry pan altogether and just eat it raw out of the ‘fridge? Why don’t we just rock up to the local butcher shop with our lunch boxes and get a strip of raw freakin’ meat and just eat that? We could save so much on gas and electricity and cooking and washing dishes!

And the other cardinal SIN? It’s everything chefs put in their food. Now I’m a simple (not as in mind) cook and eater. I like watching cooking shows. But what makes me gag? I’m watching the show, they throw in some meat, some potatoes, a few other things…then they start. Throw in spices, herbs, tins of this, cut up that, a pinch of this, a teaspoon of that - by the time they have the pot cooking, I have such bad heartburn I can hardly see straight. I’m sitting in my chair burping, and my face is going red, while the volcano that is my stomach is sending up huge surges of stomach acid that is burning my oesophagus worse than it already has been pre-Losec time.

And then another worse sin - in goes the tomatoes! WTHell? Tomatoes in EVRYTHING! If it’s not tomatoes, they have whacking great bushes of herbs that they chop and throw in, or garnish on the top.

I know what you’re doing, chefs. You’re covering up some SIN by whacking great hills of herbs and spices and more rabbit food on the offending sin! It’s all over the place! Now not only have I go heartburn, but there’s rabbit food to dig through before I get to anything even worthy of eating. If I could. Which I can’t, because there’s so much freakin’ crap tossed into the dish my eyes are watering!!!!

And then you have the nerve to serve this itty-bitty freakin’ half raw meat dish covered in spices and hidden under bushes of herbs, on a whacking great plate that you could feed an army off. What the hell is with these humongous big plates with a tiny bit of something unidentifiable in the middle? And what the friggin’ heck is this dribble of sauce around the edges - or SPOTS of sauce dotted around? Did someone let the kiddies loose to play with the paints? The first time I was served a roast at a fancy restaurant, you know what I got? Three thin slices of beef on a plate half the size of Tasmania, slathered with gravy, and a side bowl of roast vegetables that apparently I was supposed to share with someone else. It’s my freakin’ meal, my plate, I want my own damn vegetables thank you very much! I don’t want to have to be all polite and go ‘Oh, no, of course you may have that extra piece of potato’ when I friggin’ want it, but I’m cursed with being polite and have to watch someone else get my extra piece of potato. And it was CRISPY, too! I nearly cried but I had to watch with a smile and look away. I had no idea torture was part of the fine dining experience.

I want a decent meal, people, on a NORMAL sized plate! I want a well-done piece of meat, served up with a nice array of vegetables, with a small sprinkle of only a FEW herbs or spices, and keep the flamin’ herb bushes off the top of my food. I need to see what I’m eating and not have to reach for the antacid after every mouthful!

And you want to know a couple of my pet hates in cooking, be it reality TV or home cooking? Whole pieces of meat in a stew, like I want to fish around with my fingers in hot sauces trying to pick out the freakin' bones! I make a mess trying to cut the meat swimming in this stew thing. Or just as bad, if not worse, shellfish cooked in the shells and dished up. When I want food, people, I want food I can cut and eat with my knife and fork, I don't want to have to don goggles and an apron to eat meat from a bowl of stew, and I don't want to have to get a hammer and pick to break the freakin' shell off a shellfish before I can even eat.

Is it so hard to give me a simple meal I can eat nicely? Is it, people, IS IT????

Cripes, after this rant I can feel the heartburn starting already.

Oops, gotta go. Master Chef is on soon. Have to see what trouble those poor contestants get up to in the kitchen!!!!

Next week…no real idea, but will no doubt have something by then!

RANT: Things that Rack-Me-Off in Movies!

2011-07-03T14:27:00.003+08:00

There were a few things I wanted to rant about this week. Rants coming out of my ears, people, I am so irritable!!! (No, not PMS, if you must know). Just things that are annoying me! But last week I did mention that I was going to rant about some things that annoyed me in the movies I watched, so it’s that particular rant I’m going to -well, rant about this week.

OMG actors, will you put some clothes on?! What is it with movies and big-boobed heroines? Or even small-boobed heroines, for that matter? PUT SOME CLOTHES ON! I’m talking TANK TOPS, PEOPLE! Yes, tank tops are at the top of my hit list for heroines this week.

It could be freakin’ snowing in a movie, and the heroine will always end up with her shirt off and a tight tank top on underneath. Running around with her boobs squashed into a tank top. Please, we know she’s got boobs. We know she’s the heroine. But does she have to ALWAYS wear a tank top and jeans or shorts, and nothing else? I recently watched a movie where it was obviously cold, and while the men ran around in long-sleeved shirts and jackets, yes, you guessed it, the women were running around in TANK TOPS. Save me, someone! Save me from the dreaded Tank-Top Heroine!

Or how about another movie I watched recently (yes, it was a comedy/action). They’ve gone through a time warp and are now in an unknown dimension and she tears off the bottoms of her pants to make shorts. Are you freakin’ kidding me? They’re in strange surroundings and don’t know what they’re facing, but yes, we must see a little more flesh from the heroine. Cue in the ripping off of the bottom of a perfectly good pair of long pants and voila! Lots of bare leg. I don’t see the men ripping off the bottom of their pants, but I guess hairy legs just don’t do it for most people. *scratching head*

And why, oh why, do we always have to have the Offensive Jerk as one of the group? So offensive, in fact, that you wonder why the hell ANYONE would have him along as a friend. Surely anyone with half a brain can see that he’s going to be a drag on the whole holiday/camping trip/whatever. By the 1st quarter of the film I’m moaning, “Shut up. Shut up shutupshutup SHUT UP! Someone, please, beat the living s**t out of him. Gag him. Do something! PLEASE!

And the Dumb Chick. OMG, has that been overdone to death or what? Do we really need the dumb, simpering chick, who usually is found hanging off Offensive Jerk’s arm, giggling at everything he says and watching him adoringly? Until he’s eaten, of course, then Dumb Chick runs off screaming into the dark. As one does. Dumb Chick is usually found in a not-very-comfortable position with her tongue hanging out of the corner of her mouth, her eyeballs rolled up, and blood everywhere. I rest my case. I also applaud the horror that put Dumb Chick there, because I am so sick of her.

By now I’m so happy that SOMEONE is killing off the characters.

The Hero is usually a nice bloke. Good-looking, smart, and usually with most of his body covered in clothes. Cue jacket and jeans. We have the Jacket’n’Jeans Hero. Of course, to sometimes flash some manly flesh, we might be treated to the wife-beater shirt. Or the muscle shirt. Or whatever they call the feakin’ thing. All so we can get a glimpse of the ‘guns’ he sports on his arms. (I always thought guns were what people shot bullets with, but the new thing is the word ‘guns’ instead of muscle. But I’ll save that for another rant. Oh boy…) Anyway, The Jacket’n’Jeans Hero is sometimes asking to be snotted by a bunch of fives (courtesy of moi) , because he keeps making excuses and threats to Offensive Jerk but never actually does anything about him.

Sort of like the Tank Top Heroine who rolls her pretty blue eyes a lot at Dumb Chick and backs up Jacket’n’Jeans Hero in everything he says and does. Tank Top Heroine is often found in horror/thriller movies with her tank-top clad boobs squashed against his back/arm as they creep along a dark hallway.

Don’t get me started on the freakin’ mobile phones (cell phones for my US friends) that NEVER work in times of dire danger. You can see it coming a mile off. Come on, you know what I’m talking about. Here’s the first not-so-subtle clue that we see in a MILLION freakin’ movies. Someone (usually Offensive Jerk or Dumb Chick) gets their mobile out and walks around whining, “Oh, I can’t get reception here” and snaps their dinky phone shut again. Collective groan from moi, because I’m thinking…”Oh, what a surprise. I am SO surprised. You could knock me over with a feather. Oh Dear. Oh freakin’ dear.”

The classic - the car breaks down. Oh my. Oh dearie me. What a surprise….*yawn*.

Or how’s this to top everything off? Tank Top Heroine turns out to be a kick-arse chick, who can break into any high security computer system, disguise herself as a rabbit and fool the Federal guards, but Jacket’n’Jeans Hero can get her in a hold with a snap of his fingers and she can’t move. Cue pouting and tossing of hair. Lots of tossing of hair.

And what the hell is all this long hair whipping about? People, I tell you now, in bad weather, I tie my hair back. But no, chicks going camping have to have hair billowing out everywhere. Tank Top Heroine is hanging off the side of a building, with her laptop strapped to her back breaking into Federal level computers, with her glossy hair tossing in the wind and getting into her face. Classy, babe, classy.

And let’s not forget that Jacket’n’Jeans Hero has to have his tousled locks. Artfully tousled. Crap, people, CRAP! I can’t stand it!

My mother sits with me to watch a movie, and I can tell her what’s happening ahead of time - who is going to die, who is going to run screaming into the darkness, etc within minutes. She wants to know how I do it, she thinks it’s amazing. I can tell you right now, the same as I tell her, the movies and characters are so boringly, freakingly predictable. PREDICTABLE! It’s like they have this formula that’s tweaked a little here and there, but the characters are basically the same.

Damn it, movie makers and writers, give me NORMAL characters in abnormal situations, acting as a NORMAL person would! Get rid of the freakin’ tank tops and short shorts, and give me a decent heroine with brains enough to tie her hair up in windy weather, and wear warm clothes! I’m tired of the Nipple Peep, people, really! Yes, the NIPPLE PEEP! You know what I’m talking about! Come on! Those twin nipples pressed against the tank top like bulls eyes? GROANER!!!!! Haven’t you heard of nipple tape? No, I’m not a prude, but nipples leading the big bosoms inside the tank top is a GROANER!!!!

And for crying out loud, Jacket’n’Jeans Hero, belt the Offensive Jerk in the lug and ditch him and the ditzy Dumb Chick by the road, get your freakin’ car fixed so it won’t break down in the middle of nowhere, and stay in mobile phone country.

Geez!!!!

Next week: Ranting about Food and Chefs on Reality TV!

Painting and the Furries

2011-06-28T11:47:00.002+08:00

I know, I know! The idea of painting the inside of the house + cats and dogs is enough to make most furry owners shudder.

Our friend has been helping us to paint the inside of our house, a project that has badly needed doing for about three years but which, alas, kept getting pushed back in favour of paying other bills. But finally the time came!

Several big hurdles faced us:

1: The Colours. Oh my gosh, the d****d colours! Every colour we looked at became a different shade in a different light. I’d come home with a nice, light shade, only to put it against the wall and realise it was the same shade. But take it out into a different light and it was almost colourless. ARGH!!!! Freaking me out, people!

And what ever happened to colour charts that simply had a wide range of colours in differing shades? Most colour charts had pictures of rooms done in these eyeball-straining (for us, anyway, we’re pastel lovers) colours. Let me clue you in, our house is a small 3 bedroom, 1 bathroom affair, and rather dark on the inside due to having wide verandas and a back room built on. The colours we originally painted years ago we thought were light, but they are still too dark. So Mum and I decided this time around we’d paint with much lighter shades. What a drama! By the end of twenty minutes, I’d lost interest and every colour looked the same to me. However, praise God, we finally had some pretty pastel colours picked out.

So our friend and I went to the paint store and bought everything we needed and came back home. That should have been that, but no. The second big hurdle was facing us. Facing us with furry faces and big eyes.

2. The Furries. Yes, people, to the shock and horror of the furries, they were shut out into the back room while the painting was started.

KITTY PILE IN THE BACK ROOM

“Abandoned!” sobbed Theo, as he curled up into a little ball (well, as little as a big boof like him can) on the backroom sofa.

“Unloved!” wept Tori, curling up on a big cushion.

“Left with nowhere to go!” Fleur was heartbroken as she wandered through the backroom, onto the back veranda, down the tunnel and into the cattery.

The dogs, Leo and Pixie (Mum’s Pekingese) were devastated that they were locked in the back yard ALL DAY. For THREE DAYS STRAIGHT. Yes, they came onto the back veranda at night and had their little fleecy jackets put on, and were shut into their side of the back veranda where their kennel is, nicely fitted out with a thick cushion and several blankets. But they didn’t have their usual daily time in the house. CRUEL!!!! CRUEL OWNERS!!!!

PIXIE & LEO - HAVING THEIR DAILY TIME IN THE HOUSE

PIXIE

LEO

Let me clue you in again. The back room has a three-seater sofa, a big table with a big cushion on it, and several kitty igloos. And a big scratchy post. The back veranda has an old cane sofa on it. The cattery has big cushions and igloos in it. Yes, very hard done by, the cats. And the dogs with their jackets and cushions and kennel and blankets. The cats often choose to sleep in the back room during the day and night, at different times, so it’s no big deal. Really! But because the door between the main house and the back room is shut, and they HAVE to stay out there - oh, the humiliation of it all!!

Evie sobbed while pressing her little face against the back fly-wire door. Granny didn’t love her anymore and who the HELL was that strange man in our house? And look at all that STUFF! (It didn’t matter that every time our friend looked at her, she took off to hide. Going to eat her, he was, she informed us.)

Lily was beside herself and cried piteously at the back door, her big eyes so sad and fixed on me every time I checked on the furries.

DT informed me, most gravely and sweetly, that she was seventeen years old and in renal failure, so surely we didn’t mean to lock her out?

Suffice it to say, we let DT and Lily sleep in the front room, which wasn’t being painted yet. No way on this earth were we letting Eve of Destruction in, we’re not that insane yet. The others, well, they were big kitties and could put up with it.

ABBY - NOT IMPRESSED

It was even more fun when we realized that the gloss paint for the skirting boards and door frames wouldn’t be dry until at least midnight. Having the cats loose in the house would end up, at the very least, with fur stuck to the frames and cats with white paint all over them. There was no way we could force the cats to sleep in the back room, because we wouldn’t get any sleep with them letting us know how DEVASTATED they were, so Mum ended up with some in her room, I had some in my room, and some slept in the front room. I had cramp from contorting in bed while the cats curled against me quite happily, nattering to each other that wasn’t this nice to be with mummy again?

We went through this for about three days before our friend, due to some personal issues, had to stop for awhile. When he’s free to return and continue, we have to go through the whole thing again. Oh joy.

Oh yes, before I forget. Evie has recovered well from her operation, and I took her stitches out yesterday. She was amazingly good while I did it, too (probably because she was half asleep on the bed. I’m not that stupid that I’d try to remove her stitches while she’s wide awake). The whole operation never affected her. In fact, it was as though she never had the op at all. To give you an idea, I was in the bathroom waxing my underarms (okay, that’s a little personal, but I’m trying to make a point here. Let’s not be squeamish or shy) with cold strips (no, we don’t own a microwave, so no warm wax for me). You’d think that’d be painful enough, and let me tell you, it FREAKIN’ IS, but not as painful as glancing down to see Evie watching wide-eyed, her bum wiggling as she readied herself to leap onto my shoulder to see what I was doing.

All you could hear was “No Evie! No! Stay Back! STAY BACK! NO! MUM!!!!!”

Just another minute in our lives…

I feel a rant coming on about some things I’ve noticed in a lot of action, thriller and horror movies. See you next week!

Evie, Sterilisation and Plotting

2011-06-21T13:04:00.001+08:00

So, a late entry. Something I promised myself was never going to happen. Geez, that didn’t take long, did it?! But I have my reasons, honestly! A few things have happened here, but today, let me fill you in on the main one.

Eve of Destruction, of course. (You really expected anything else? Seriously?)

Firstly, Evie was sterilised last Friday. Yes, the deed was done, and apparently not too soon. When I picked her up, my vet informed me that Evie looked like she’d been coming on heat. Hussy. Ye gods, that sweet, innocent, darling little - oh, who am I kidding? The little harlot was coming onto heat!

Now I admit I was a coward. I organised the whole thing so that I came off night shift at the hospital and only had time to race home, pick up Evie, and take her straight to the vet. Yes, I made Mum do the nasty deed of fasting Evie and listening to her meowing piteously from the bedroom that “Everyone has forgotten me and I’m so alone and unlooooooooved! And starving!” Yes, I admit to being a coward and underhanded. (Boo, hiss) BUT I had to do the deed! I had to take the poor frightened baby to the vet in the car, and when we got there she was shaking and cringing and trying to hide under the towel. She kept looking at me as though to say “But I’m not allowed outside! I want GRANNY!”

I felt so low. I kissed and cuddled her at the vet before they took her away, and then I went home feeling lower than a slug’s belly (and let me tell you, that’s low). I didn’t sleep well, waiting for a phone call that would bring bad news (I hate any of the furries going under anaesthetic), but low and held, there was sunshine instead! The call to say Evie was fine and could come home.

Poor baby! I picked her up along with some pain prevention medication and took the angel home. She rubbed the side of her face against my fingers through the bars of the cage while I cooed and oohed and baby-talked to the widdel angel. “Who’s Mummy’s angel? Who’s the widdel darling, den? Tum and wub my finger. Dere dere, widdle baby.” Etc etc.

Evie's stitches...yes, she's trying to chew up the macrame owl on top of the bathroom cupboard...*sigh*

Got home, fed the angel, watched her take an experimental munch on a stitch and then wash herself…and then right before my eyes, it morphed. The widdle angel disappeared and Eve of Destruction was back with a vengeance. She took off like a shot and ran wild through the house, leaping over Lily, racing across the sofa, hiding under the blanket to leap out and scare the living daylights out of Theo. "Frightened the life out of me," he said, as he crawled back under the blanket and sulked.

This kitten never looked back. She kept jumping and falling off the kitchen bench while I was preparing dinner, she leaped straight up the pantry to the top, she jumped from the sink to the ‘fridge…Evie was back full force, no ‘beg-your-pardons’ or ‘I feel a little ill, think I’ll rest’. Oh no, Eve of Destruction was back!

Evie helping - no scratch that - Evie into everything as usual!

It’s now Tuesday and the little villain has been trying to implicate me in her latest planned crime. Yes, you heard right. She’s trying to make me her accomplice. I know you’re shocked, but let me explain…

We’re currently in the middle of having the house painted (hence the reason why this is the first time I’ve managed to get to the computer and internet), and so saying, our dining room table and chairs are in the middle of the lounge. Evie thinks this is great, because she has been sitting on the table eye-balling the top of the lounge room cupboards - “‘Cause there’re vases and flowers right at the very top, you know!” she says, eyes bright and nose pink and whiskers quivering in excitement.

I do know. I also know she hasn’t been able to get up there yet. However, when I sat down to have breakfast, she about busted her stitches trying to get onto my shoulder to leap up to the top of the cupboards. I spent the whole time I was eating with one hand warding her off while trying to scoff down my cereal without choking. The little villain was determined to use my shoulder as her launching pad. She was going to make me her accomplice in her planned crime! She is a villain, I tell you, a villain! I know her other plan. I’d get the blame, being the big human and everything, after all, a widdle angel like her couldn’t get up on the big cupboard unless I’d helped her.

Sterilised and looking for trouble...be afraid, be very afraid...

I just have to be wary of what Eve of Destruction is plotting next…

Next week - The Furries and the House Painting Saga (if I survive it)

FREAKIN' DIETS!!!!

2011-06-13T12:27:00.000+08:00

Ah yes, diets. One of my favourite rant subjects. Why? Because there’re so many ISSUES WITH THE FREAKIN’ STUFF!

Diets - this must be one of mankind’s torture devices. It’s ‘Die’ with a ‘T’. Doesn’t that tell you everything? Should that not give you a hint that all is not well with this whole idea?

You’d think it would be simple, but if you read the so-called experts and follow the so-called ‘informed’ researchers, you’ll go stark, raving mad. Not to mention that you’ll have fifty thousand different ingredients, books, and DVDs exploding out of your house. Yes, exploding.

It seems that every day I read of yet another ‘miracle’ diet to melt that fat right off me. Another ‘miracle’ gadget to trim those nasty inches away. Another fabulous pill that promises to make me feel full so I don’t need to eat as much. All these things that promise I’ll never go hungry while losing weight again.

I mean - that the hell? I don’t need to feel hungry to eat. Doesn’t anyone get it yet? I eat ‘cause I love the food that calls out to me - and it’s not that rabbit food, let me give you the tip. Hunger has never been my problem when torturing myself on a diet. I can be hungry and not eat. I can not be hungry and eat. Why don’t the experts get that? WHY DON’T THEY FREAKIN’ GET IT???

And it’s not just me. I’ve asked around, and almost every person I’ve talked to say they don’t need to be hungry to eat. I rest my case on that one.

So let’s tackle these diets and research experts. One minute the experts are horrified and screeching ‘No! A low carb, high protein diet is bad for you. Bad bad bad! Put down that steak!” And then someone else comes along and does the *magic* research and now the experts are saying, “Oh yes, low carb, high protein diets do actually make you lose weight.’

Cut down the calories! They scream. Less calories is less fat! No! Screams someone else. Don’t cut it down, you’ll slow your metabolism! Eat more! Eat six small meals a day, another expert yells! Follow the star’s diet! Don’t follow it! Chemist has famous drink to make you lose weight! Oh good! Oh no! Drink it! Don’t drink it! Here, have six of these biscuits a day and you’ll lose weight! No, they’re full of fat, fill up on cabbage soup! (which, in case you’re wondering, makes me fart, so not a good idea when I’m working or in company).

Great diet - one day you eat all cheese, another day steak and tomatoes *gag* and then another day is all day banana day! (now I feel like a freakin’ ape and my potassium is so high I could be in the Medical Book of Marvels).

But it’s not finished! Join this club, get this DVD and book and guide and everything else and I’ll LOSE WEIGHT! High protein! I’m eating so much protein I can’t face another piece of meat, and not only that, I’m so bunged up the toilet sneers at me when I go near it. So now I’m high on laxatives and don’t dare go outside for fear I’m gonna explode - and it won’t be pretty.

I’m being bombarded via email to continue buying the DVDs from this group, to inspire me with stories of how other members lost weight. Oh great! Wonderful! Unfortunately I’ve lost freakin’ nothing so I’m not inspired AT ALL!

One day researchers say don’t eat chocolate, then the next day it’s good for you, then its only dark chocolate, then it’s just a little, then don’t eat potatoes, eat potatoes, no fat, you need some fat, buy this shake, have this pill, eat less, eat more, low carb, low GI, high fibre, don’t have too much fibre, research says it’s bad for me, then it’s suddenly good, have this diet food, the diet food is no good and bad for my health, lots of fish! No, wait, not too much! New research shows that low carb isn’t good for me, I need carbs, research shows low carbs is better, research shows Low GI is good for me, researchers suddenly discover Low GI makes no difference in weight loss, dry bake the food, take the chicken skin off, leave it on, have food raw research says! No, another researcher says, you need to cook it a little, a lot, not at all, OMG I can’t think straight anymore!

Weigh my food, don’t weigh my food, weigh myself, don’t weigh myself, go by my clothes fit, throw out the scales, keep motivated by weighing weekly, stick a picture on the ‘fridge of a person with my ideal weight, don’t do it because it sets unrealistic goals, count points, wait they’ve changed it so I don’t count points, count calories, research shows counting calories makes me miserable (duh, could have told them that), new diet every week on the local TV programs, people swearing they work and researchers swearing they don’t, and something new that researchers swear works and people who try it says it doesn’t.

Eat this, drink that, inhale this, spray that on tongue, take this pill, meditate the pounds away, drink gallons of water, buy a smaller size in clothes - ARGH!!!!

I’m freakin’ going insane! Freakin’ diets! I tell you what, I’ll save myself a bundle by telling all the researchers and experts to take a long jump off a short cliff, I’ll bin all the programs I’ve ever wasted money on, I’ll tell anyone who tries to give me advice to *&%$@! And I’m gonna have a PIECE OF CHOCLATE CAKE!

YOU HEARD ME, PEOPLE! CAKE! I’M GONNA HAVE ME A FREAKIN’ BIG SLICE AND I’M GONNA ENJOY IT!!!!!

I’M BREAKIN’ FREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Confessions of a Cat Lady

2011-06-05T10:38:00.001+08:00

Let me introduce you to my friend Theresa O'Hagan, formerly of the US, now a citizen of Australia, and a fellow Cat Lady. She has generously allowed us an insight into her life with her furry babies. Carry on Theresa!

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I confess, I am a crazy cat lady. I have (clears throat) a few cats and have been known to purchase the odd and the eccentric toys that flood the market for our beloved pets nowadays. They do love a good chase after the laser pointer and they also enjoy playing with the 'Undercover Mouse'....until they decide to lie on the thing and make it 'click' continually, making me wonder why in the world I bought it in the first place.

Cats killing the Undercover Mouse toy

They own tunnels, tents, fake mice, scratching posts, climbing trees, balls, beds of all sizes, cat nip animals and tracks with balls they are supposed to chase but would rather curl up in and take a nap!

Misty getting ready for a nap on one of her toys.

Rocky snoozing in her favourite toy

And let's not forget the aquarium we have set up, especially for them to watch.

Karlee on 'Her' fish tank

However, my husband drew the line when I wanted to get them a remote controlled mouse. I was quite taken aback by his attitude. Did he actually want our fur babies to be marred because they did not have this new technology??? I could just imagine my babies spending hours chasing this mechanical mouse around the house, having loads of mind numbing fun. Then, as I thought about previous purchases that lay scattered throughout the house, I had to grudgingly admit the cats prefer the paper bags that come in packages from my daughter in the states. High on the list of fascinating things they love are plastic ties. Hoop them into a circle and they will smack and chase them for hours! Something else I found recently that holds their attention is good old toilet paper. Of course, they wholeheartedly deny any actions in getting the stuff off the roll; they swear they're just keeping it from taking over the bedrooms!

Misty & Jesse guarding the toilet paper

BUT, the thing that they hold the highest regard for – the plain and simple cardboard box! They don't seem to care what we get free when we buy them as long as we don't make them wait too long unloading our 'free' items from their box! They all love a good hide & chase game and the boxes provide the perfect place to hide....especially if dad doesn't fold the flaps into the box.

Shelby is the master of boxes.....he loves nothing more.

And he seems to think he can squirm into any size!!!

Recently, I caught him trying to squeeze his tiny 9 kilo bod into a box our new phone came in!!!

Shelby trying to fit his big butt in the box

He just knew he could do it!!! I tried to gently reason with him. He would just look at me with contempt because I was insinuating that he would fail. He worked and worked on it until he finally curled up around the box (cause you know, I wouldn't notice the difference) and went to sleep.

I know what you must be thinking – what lengths will this crazy lady go for her cats!?!?!?! Well, pretty far it seems. I have set up one of our three bedrooms just for them. They have not one, but two water fountains that filters and aerates the water for them. I talk to them and they talk (well, mrow) back.

My children constantly tell me they were never as spoiled as my cats.

I just shrug and pull out a new toy to show them!

RANT - Horror Movie Sameness

2011-05-29T17:57:00.000+08:00

RANT! Horror Movie Sameness

Yes, you heard me right. Horror Movie SAMENESS! I am so tired of watching horror movies that seem to be echoes of other horror movies.

Let me elaborate (‘cause that’s what I like to do). But before I do…here’s a WARNING. Some of what I’m going to say here will contain spoilers.

What is one of the latest crazes in horror movies? Split Personalities. Now this was new and great in The Secret Window with Johnny Depp (and face it, he’s so easy on the eyes *wink*). I didn’t see the ending coming, I’m wondering who the mad murderer is stalking Johnny’s character and his wife and killing other people, and all this stuff is happening and then the big clincher - OMG! It was him! Johnny’s character himself had the split personality and he didn’t know!

That was new, that was fresh, that was like - Oh Wow!

And then another horror movie came along (can’t remember the title, but it featured a father and small daughter), and at the end, he was the stalker and he didn’t know it until then, either. Okay, not so fresh, but still newish.

And now…oh geez. I just watched The Ward and what do you know? She has a split personality. Something didn’t ring true to me when it came to the corpse dragging herself around and killing people, and having substance, and then actually being hurt when it was hit in the chest with an axe…but…I was hoping…and what do you know? Oh dear…split personality.

And I’ve seen it in other films as well. I mean…come on, people! This is old news! Anytime I see a movie now with a ‘secret stalker/unknown thing killing/etc - my first thought? Split personality, and I’ve been right a few times. Sad. Very sad, people.

And if that wasn’t enough, how many horror movies do we need where the bad guys are eating the good guys? They’re chopping and chewing and stewing and skinning their way through the good guys. And if that isn’t bad enough…wait for it…there’re always more of these weirdo cannibals out in the backwoods. My God, do they have a breeding program or something out there? I mean - hello?! The world may be big, but it’s not that big that the nearest town might not hear of weirdos roaming the woods eating travellers foolish enough to break down in said woods and walk off on their own.

There’re more babies being born with the soul of Satan than I can keep up with, and they all end the same - no ending. Yes, that’s right, no freakin’ ending, because the viewers must finish the film with the sense of dread. Did I get that sense of dread? I actually have that sense of ‘geez’ that goes with the glazed eyes…and I stagger up from the sofa where I fell asleep and missed some of the freakin’ film, but it doesn’t matter because I can go and get any Satan soul movie and it’ll be almost the same. People - give me something NEW!

And the latest thing? People who apparently were in the world five seconds ago, and now apart from the one character who remembers them, they don’t exist anymore. I mean…how the heck does that work? It was interesting in that Julie Moore film (see, so riveted I can’t even remember the title), but now it’s getting a little old. The only thing different is whether it’s the character themselves that’s not ‘really’ there, or a member of their family they’re looking for who, apparently, doesn’t exist. Ask the mother who gave birth to the missing character years ago, I’m sure, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, there’s a memory of painful childbirth. I seriously doubt THAT could vanish into thin air!

Someone in the house with you. Someone in the walls. Someone stalking the character in some way, and there’s usually only two ways, and both involve getting, or already being, inside the house. The newest thing on the market is a DVD I saw (saw on the rack, didn’t rent, people, didn’t see the whole movie with my own two eyes) - that had two young people (think one was a kid, and I don’t mean of the goat variety) and they’re…wait for it…stormy night…parents away…picture it - they’re in the house with a freakin’ tiger! Stalked by a tiger! I’m telling you, now I’ve heard it all. Next thing it’ll be a rabid monkey climbing through the windows, stalking the owners, splitting its personality (many different kinds of the ape/monkey family to choose from or embrace), throwing Satan-possessed bananas at them, and it’s going to skin and eat them. Nothing like a bit of protein with the fruit.

And the worse thing? One of my pet hates? What’s with all these movies with no ending? NO ENDING, people, you heard me! It’s like the writers and producers didn’t really know how to explain it all, so let’s have a cliff-hanger ending. Or a WTHell (you thought I was going to use the other initial, didn’t you? Admit it). How about my favourite - the bad guy back from the dead! Miraculous! (Maybe he had the soul of Satan?) The split personality movies are classics for that - big mystery, wow story-line and then - oh yes, it was the main character all along. No real need to go into anything, just chop and kill and have some unexplainable happenings, and we can tie it all off with it being in his head.

Oh please. Please…please…someone give me something NEW in horror to watch!!!!

One day soon, I’m going to go on a rant fest about another thing that annoys the living heck out of me when it comes to movies and characters, I’m just building up for it <g>. And one day I’ll give you my choice horror movies that I think are the best ones EVER. I might even treat you to a rant about gardening. Yes, gardening…a true horror on its own. I have lots of things I rant about *chortle*

I know, you can’t wait.

See you next week when a friend has graciously agreed to blog about her kitties and will be sharing some photos of them, too.