Day 94: Oh Christmas tree

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 94: Oh Christmas tree

Although over the years artificial Christmas trees may have come close to resembling the real thing and have a few advantages, nothing can take the place of a real Christmas tree.  The sight and aroma of a real tree creates an atmosphere that is impossible for a fake tree to copy, no matter how lifelike it is.

Perhaps the most popular Christmas tree is the Fraser fir. With its lush dark green needles and strong branches, this tree is ideal for all kinds of decorations and a favorite of families and businesses alike. 

The Colorado Blue Spruce has, as its name implies, bluish-green needles with a slightly powdery appearance.  The needles are about one to three inches long and have been known for exceptional retention.  The Colorado Blue Spruce was once chosen to grace the lawn of the White House.

The Balson fir is loved because of its short, flat, long-lasting needles. However, even though its needles are perfect for decorating, it’s the scent and aroma of the tree that makes it, unlike any other fir. 

Not a real fir but still highly suitable as a Christmas tree is the Douglas fir.  Its branches are not quite as strong as those of the Fraser fir, but are still highly suitable to carry decorative balls and other ornaments. 

The Eastern White Pine is ideal for people allergic to fragrant Christmas trees.  On the upside, the Eastern White Pine gives off no scent at all and retains its needles for weeks.  On the downside, its branches are not as strong as other fir trees.

The White Spruce, although beautiful, is not quite as popular as a Christmas tree because crushed needles can produce a very unpleasant odor. Even though the tree has strong branches, ideal for heavy ornaments, its needle retention is poor.

No matter which tree you prefer, to keep a Christmas tree fresh, take an inch off the butt of the tree and place in a stand that holds at least a gallon of water. Regularly top up the container so that there is always water available.

If the tree still has its roots, he can be planted in the yard. Chose a space with plenty of room for growth as fir trees can grow very tall and very wide.

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Day 93: A fishy story

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Day 93: A fishy story

A few days ago, I posted that one of our goldfish was near death. For 72 hours he lay on the bottom of the tank, ready to go to the big ocean in the sky. Then suddenly, he started eating, moving and attempted swimming. Today that fish is as good as new.

I never actually considered myself a fish person. Whenever I visited someone who had an aquarium, I thought it pretty and calming, but never thought of getting an aquarium myself. And then one day, things changed.

It started so innocently. We were in a pet store shopping for cat food, I happen to wander into the fish section and came across a giant tank full of tiny goldfish.

While the other fish tanks had between two to fifty fish in them and were beautifully decorated with gravel and plants, this tank held hundreds of fishes and had no decorations at all. 

When I asked the salesman about this, he said “These are feeding fish.”

Feeding fish? He explained that these fish were primarily used to feed the other fish. I wash shocked. Their only purpose was to die! Well, I couldn’t save them all, but I could save one. So I left the pet store with ten cans of cat food, one plastic fish tank, and one goldfish.

Back home the fish went into the tank and we named him Blub. People told me that Blub wouldn’t live long. Goldfish, by nature, don’t have a long life and since Blub was a feeding fish and very small he most probably wouldn’t last more than a few days.

Well, they were wrong. Not only did Blub live longer than a few days, over the next few months he outgrew his tank. So, we got a bigger tank, and when that one became too small, we got an even bigger one. We also got Blub a friend, a beautiful white and orange goldfish and named her Cinderella.

Blub and Cinderella lived happily for four years and then one day, Cinderella died. Two days later Blub died too. So now we had two big glass tanks, but no fish.

In the years that followed a variety of fish housed in those tanks. Goldfish, tropical fish, we even had a couple of mini lobsters. 

None of them lived very long. When we were tired of spending money on tropical fish, I went back to basics and got twelve feeding fish, six for each tank.

That was four years ago, and all the fish are doing fine, including the one who was near death for three days. My guess is, he wasn’t sick at all, those who attacked him injured him and he just needed time to heal.

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Day 92: Stop volunteering

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 92: Stop volunteering

Few things get me more worked up than when I see a notice asking for volunteers. With the exception of animal shelters, I am 100% against volunteer work. If an organization wants work done, pay those who put their time and effort into it.

One of the reasons unemployment is so high is because any number of organizations use volunteers to do their work. If there were no more volunteers, those organizations would have to pay for the required labor and the unemployment rate would go down.

Take the Cancer Society for instance, they rake in BILLIONS of dollars, but they are too stingy to pay those who hassle people for donations, sell the daffodils or do other work.

The same with environmental groups. They want people to clean up the parks and streets, but they are not willing to pay. Other than the unemployed, there are any number of students all too willing to earn some money to pay for their student loans. If you want parks and streets cleaned up, pay the people.

Hospitals also make use of volunteers. People who read to patients, run errands for them, push wheelchairs, give directions, bring cups of coffee and tea, put flowers in water, etc. Do these people get paid, no, not a cent. Hospitals are government-funded (from our tax dollars) or receive millions in donations, so why can’t they pay those who help patients?

If all volunteers were to refuse to pay for nothing, organizations who want their help would have to start paying them.

Some think that, if they start in an organization they will eventually get hired as paid employees. In most cases, that is a pipe dream. Why would an organization start paying them? There are enough fools willing to volunteer with the same pipe dream. 

The same applies to co-op work, apprentices and interns. Most of them put up with the ridiculously low pay in the hope that it will lead to a full-time job. That almost never happens. One apprentice leaves, another takes its place.

As mentioned earlier, I am not against volunteering for animal shelters. Animal shelters are not government funded and rely on private donations. What little money they have should all go to the animals.

  

Day 91: Don’t be too quick to flush

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 91: Don’t be too quick to flush

Earlier this week we noticed that one of our goldfish wasn't doing well. We have six in a tank, four gold, and two white ones, and for some reason, three of the gold ones were attacking the fourth one.

For almost three years or so everything went fine and now suddenly they were ganging up on this fish. Maybe the gold ones were all males and she was the only golden female, maybe the gold ones were all female and he was the only male, maybe he/she had done something to upset the others, who know, either way, there was an upset in the tank.

We decided to separate them. Dieter got a pot, scooped some water out of the tank and then removed the unfortunate fish from the tank and deposited him in the pot. He lay on his side and it looked like the end was near. I didn’t think he would make it through the night.

Fishy proved me wrong. When I went to check on him the next morning, not only was he still alive but he moved a little bit. We decided to move him to another tank. We have a second tank in the kitchen with four goldfish in it.

After putting the fish in that tank, he promptly sank to the bottom. And there he lay, on his side, on the smooth white and blue glass stones. Poor thing, he looked so miserable. The other fish left him alone though, so it was decided to leave the fish there. Let him die among friends.

During the day I kept an eye on him and it didn’t look good. If he was to die, he put up one hell of a fight. At dinnertime I sprinkled some food in the tank, and would you believe it, the fish actually straightened up to eat a little.

The next morning I once again checked if he had given up the fight, but no, he was still alive. He lay in a corner behind some bushes, but he was still breathing.

“Shall I flush him? Put him out of his misery,” Dieter wondered.

“Of course not,” I said, “he’s alive. You can’t flush a live fish!”

And it’s a good thing we didn’t. Today, that fish is alive and well.

So, the next time one of your fish looks a bit off-color, don’t be so quick to flush him. A change of environment might be all that’s needed.

Day 90: Sharing a bed with cats

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 90: Sharing a bed with cats

I’m quite sure that cat lovers are familiar with cats sleeping on their bed. They curl up in the middle of it, at the foot end, or snuggle between the pillows. Seeing them fast asleep is cute and we don’t want to wake them.

It’s a different story when we want to go to sleep and there is no room for us to get into bed, or to get comfortable.

Take last night for instance. It was 1:00 a.m., I wanted to go to sleep, but … there were four cats on my bed. 

Halley got up when she saw me coming, but Charlotte, Holly and Greyson gave no sign of moving.

Somehow I managed to squeeze myself under the duvet and lay down. That is to say, I tried to get into a comfortable position, but I but couldn’t stretch out because Greyson and Charlotte were side by side at the foot end of the bed.

Holly, who was on the other side of the bed, lifted her head and glared at me as if to say … you woke me up. 'Sorry,' I whispered, and she went back to sleep.

When my legs cramped up, I ever so carefully stretched them out, my feet under Greyson and Charlotte. If you think those two moved, think again. I got absolutely no reaction.

Still not comfortable, I moved my feet from here to there, causing Charlotte and Greyson to bounce and roll around a bit. Charlotte didn’t care, she was obviously of the opinion … go with the flow, but Greyson eventually lifted his head. The message he sent me was clear … do you mind, we’re trying to sleep. Yeah well, so was I.

About ten minutes later Greyson got up and came to kiss me goodnight, as he does every night. A kiss on my right cheek, a kiss on my left cheek and another kiss on my right cheek. Next, he lay down on my chest. “Greyson you have to move,” I told him. “You’re too heavy.” I wasn’t kidding, Greyson weighs a good 20 lbs and is as such quite heavy. Fine, he moved.

As I turned on my side, he moved with me and curled up against my chest, right under my chin. Now I had a different problem … his whiskers were tickling my nose and cheek. When that brought on a sneeze attack, Greyson had the good sense to move.

Now it was Charlotte’s turn. She got up from the foot end of the bed and joined me under the duvet. She stretched out behind me and I prepared for sleep. Well, that didn’t work at all. Every time I moved, I got a kick in my back.

Meanwhile, Holly who slept on my other side had finally drifted off and produced all kinds of sound effects. Don’t imagine a gentle purring, she was snoring, sputtering and sighing.

Sleeping with cats, I tell ya, it’s no joke. It's a shame I don't fit into one of their cat baskets. Maybe I would find some peace and quiet there.

    

Day 89: After nine boys woman is overjoyed with a daughter

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 89: After nine boys woman is overjoyed with a daughter

I tend to avoid Facebook posts because I find some of them too upsetting, but every now and then I still have a quick look. Today was such a day and I very much regret it as what I saw made my blood boil. 

Someone posted a photo and the link to an article with the headline “Mother of nine boys is overjoyed to finally have a daughter.”

While three people gave this article a thumbs up, I gave it an angry face. Who in their right mind has ten children? If it were up to me, I’d castrate that man.

Reading about such a large family raises a number of questions: where do they live? How do they manage to put food on the table? How do they manage to keep all the kids clothed? The woman obviously doesn’t work and there is no way the man can manage to feed and clothe that lot on his salary.

So, they get subsidized for housing, they get subsidized for food and subsidized for clothing.

The official word is, government-subsidized but what it actually means is … taxpayer-subsidized. We pay for their enormous house, we pay for the masses of food they consume, we pay for their clothes and we pay for the bus they drive. I assume they drive a bus as there isn’t a car large enough for a family of twelve.

I do wonder though what’s going to happen to all those kids. Will their education be taxpayer-funded too? Will we pay to send that lot to college? Other people have to work and save to send their kids to college, or the kids get part-time jobs, but not them, they will most likely get it for free.

How will they even get to study in a house full of kids? I can imagine that there’s quite a bit of noise and running around. The student can forget studying in his room, because of a lack of privacy. Worst case scenario, he’ll go to a friend’s house or to the library. Fleeing an overcrowded house will most likely lead to falling in with the wrong crowd and a life of crime. One or several of them might up in prison, once again become a burden on the taxpayers.

And what about the psychological side of this family. Right now those boys are little more than kids who can’t see past their nose, but that won’t stay that way. There will come a time when they will think … I wasn’t wanted. Mom kept having kid after kid after kid, hoping for a girl. When I was born a boy, she didn’t want me, I was a disappointment. We are all disappointments!

Finally, what kind of an effect does such a large family have on the environment. Let’s say that one child goes through 5 diapers per day, that’s 1,825 diapers per year, for ten kids that 18,250 diapers for just this one family.

Everyone knows by now that the world is overcrowded. So why allow a family to have ten kids? We are urged to control the cat and dog population and spay/neuter our animals. Why can’t a doctor do the same with people?

This woman is obviously a very selfish brat and the man a complete moron. People like that shouldn’t be allowed to breed in the first place. They’re living like kings and we’re paying for it.

Day 88: Cats or ghosts?

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 88: Cats or ghosts?

I want to tell you a story. Actually, it’s not a story, it’s actual events, not a word of a lie, no embellishments. In short, strange things are happening at my place.

This morning I got out of bed and the first thing I noticed was that a book was lying face down on the bottom shelf. The book, ‘Stolen Beginnings’ by Susan Lewis. It’s an old book, dating back to 1990.

On the shelf next to it, I noticed this ... a book partially pulled out.

In this case the name of the book ‘Name Dropping’ by Jane Heller, published in 2000.

I haven’t looked at either of those books in years and years. So why was one lying face down on the shelf and was the other one was partially pulled out? Am I to assume that my cats have suddenly developed an interest in reading? Or is it something more sinister?

Where it comes to weird things happening, this is not the first time. There have been other incidents. Long-time readers may recognize the story, but for the sake of new readers let me tell it again.

I was alone at home (Dieter was on vacation in Belgium), had gone to bed around 11:00 p.m. and before going to sleep I was reading a few pages of a book. Pitoe and Floppy were sleeping at the foot end of my bed.

Suddenly the kitchen window rattled violently like someone got hold of it and shook it with all their might. The cats lifted their head and I stopped reading. What was that?

When all remained quiet, I relaxed somewhat, but suddenly there it was again, that violent rattle of the kitchen window. I dove under the duvet up to my eyeballs, glaring at the cats who also seemed alarmed. And I thought to myself … if this happens again, I’m outa here.

Five or ten minutes passed and then … the violent rattling happened again. I didn’t think twice. I got out of bed, slipped on my peignoir, grabbed my car keys and drove to my friend’s house. Joan laughed when I told her what happened, said that my imagination was running away with me, but agreed that I could sleep in her spare bedroom.

To cut a long story short, I slept at Joan's house for two nights, but when I saw a neighbor peeking from behind her curtain, seeing me come home at 6:00 in the morning, I realized that this couldn’t go on. I would have to brave it.

To celebrate Dieter’s homecoming, I invited Joan and her son Brendan for coffee and cake. I was in the kitchen when the window once again rattled violently. Joan, Dieter, and Brendan came flying into the kitchen. 

“What was that?” they said in unison. “That,” I said, “was what I heard that night.”

All of them were suitably shocked. 

“No wonder you were scared,” Joan stated. 

“Hm, now imagine this happening in the middle of the night,” I said. 

Joan wasn’t laughing anymore.

Now to go back in time a little bit … while all the creepy stuff was happening, another friend, Cheryl, invited me to her house for a long weekend. Eager to get away from my creepy house, I accepted.

After dinner and a movie, Cheryl, her mother and I retired to our bedrooms. Being out in the country my bedroom was pitch dark.

Shortly after I turned off the light, I heard the bedroom door opening and closing. Next, I heard cabinet doors softly being opened and closed and drawers equally softly being opened and closed. Whether it was Cheryl or her mother, one of them was obviously looking for something but didn’t want to wake me.

Suddenly, I felt someone sitting down next to me on the bed. I became alarmed, Cheryl was a good friend, but she wasn’t that good a friend – if you know what I mean. So I reached over and switched on the light … there was nobody in my room. I left the light on for the remainder of the night.

The next morning at breakfast I told Cheryl and her mother of what happened. “Oh dear,” her mother said, “not again.” Over coffee and croissants, they told me that strange things had been happening in that room. 

“And you put me there!” I said. 

“What else could we do?” Cheryl said. “We couldn’t very well put you in the blue room.” 

“The blue room?” I questioned. 

“Oh that room is definitely out of bounds,” her mother said. “That room is constantly ice-cold even now in the middle of summer.”

They showed me the room, and while I didn’t go inside, they were right … ice-cold air met me in the hallway.

Even though I had initially agreed to stay three days, I made a swift exit never to return to Cheryl’s house again.

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Day 87: Who would join me?

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 87: Who would join me?

Would anyone join me at this cottage? I'll get to the why later.

We’re halfway through the NaNoWriMo challenge and for several people, it’s going really well. Every day I read about people who write 3,000 – 5,000 or even 7,000 words per day. I sit and wonder … where do these people find the time?

Don’t any of these writers have jobs? And if they are stay-at-home people, don’t they have work to do around the house? There’s always something to do: 

making/changing the beds, dusting, vacuuming, sweeping, polishing, laundry, ironing, washing the bathroom, washing the kitchen, washing windows, washing floors, cleaning the deck, shopping, tending to the garden, cleaning gutters, cleaning the car, cooking, doing dishes, and more. Am I to assume that these writers neglect their homes for the sake of writing?

I also wonder what these people write about. I know from experience that the first couple of chapters flow easily. Chapters one to three or five practically write themselves, but then the trouble starts … how to continue. 

Inspiration doesn’t come on command, plenty of good writers sit at their computer, staring at the screen, their fingers motionless on the keyboard. Eventually, they write something, only to delete it. They write something else and that too gets rejected.

In between, there are a ton of distractions: the cat needs petting, the dog needs walking, cups of coffee or tea are made, emails need answering, friends drop by for a chat, Facebook games need playing, etc. etc. etc.

Few will be willing to admit it, but writers are notorious procrastinators. They will start writing tomorrow, or they will start writing after … well, any excuse will do.

A friend of mine took a writing course and while it made her a better writer, it also made her a slower writer. She once told me that, in order to create the perfect sentence, she often plays with the words for 10 or even 20 minutes. Safe to say, my friend won’t write 3,000 words per day. Which begs the question, what is the quality of some writers’ work?

As for NaNoWriMo, it’s a nice incentive for writers to get their bud in gear, but what happens at the end of November. From what I’ve been told … nothing. There are no prices to be won and nobody looks at the manuscripts.

If writers can produce the required 50,000 words in November, why can’t they do the same in any other month? Do writers really need an incentive? Ask most writers why they write and they will say … because I have to. A day without writing is a day wasted.

That’s how I feel. Every morning I wake up with plans to write, but as I mentioned earlier … any number of things get in the way. 

Ideally, I need to hole up in a cottage somewhere, with no WiFi. So, I wonder, when looking at the cottage above, how many writers would join me for a writing getaway.