Day 4: Can cats talk

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 4: Can cats talk

Oh dear, it’s only day four and I’ve already hit a bit of a snag … I can’t think of anything to write about.

At times like these, I turn to my cats: Charlotte, Holly, Halley, and Greyson. Cat lovers will agree, our fur kids are a constant source of inspiration.

Take Greyson for instance. He recently celebrated his first birthday and with it, he developed an appetite for wallpaper.

Don’t for a moment think that the poor thing might be hungry because I can assure you that he’s not. Greyson, along with the others get wet food for breakfast and dinner and they have a constant supply of dry food to snack on during the day.

So why does Greyson go for the wallpaper? Just to be clear, he doesn’t eat it, he merely tears off pieces and then spits them out on the floor. First, he attacked one of the walls in the bathroom, then he moved on to the kitchen and finally had a nibble in the living room.

See for yourself …

Shortly before his first birthday, Greyson also found his voice and he’s been using it ever since. For the longest time, he was a quiet cat, his Toronto Cat Rescue foster mother described him as a Zen kitten. When there’s nothing Zen about him anymore.

He starts in the morning, practicing his vocal cords with a series of meows. Once warmed up he goes quiet.

Then he starts again in the evening. He talks to us, he talks to the other cats, he even talks to the walls. Now that creeps me out. He will sit by a wall, look up and start a flood of ‘words’.

Sometimes it gets so bad that we have to shut him up with a firm ‘Greyson, enough!’ He will go quiet for a while and then start again, talking to another wall.

When Greyson isn’t talking to walls, he tries to climb them. He will sit, calculate his move, and then jump as high as he can, front paws outstretched. Of course, he’s not going anywhere as he slides right back down. That doesn’t discourage him though, he’s a firm believer in … if at first you don’t succeed, try and try again. Which he does. Over and over again until he gets tired.

And when he gets tired, he curls up, or rather drapes himself in his favorite spot. This has been his favorite spot ever since he was a kitten. Once again, see for yourself.

When he’s awake, Greyson is a rather curious cat. Lately, he’s taking an interest in potato peeling, dishwashing, and laundry. When he sees me taking the potato bag out of the cabinet, he wants to see what I’m doing. 

When I fill the sink with water he will come and stand by me and let out a loud cry. That’s my cue to pick him up and put him near the sink. He’s afraid of the water and the soap bubbles, I can see that, but he will sit there and keep an eye on me.

The same with laundry. When I fill the machine with clothes, water, and soap, he wants to see what’s going on. When I pick him up he’s not just scared, he’s terrified, but cranes his neck to see. In the meantime, I’ve learned that a safe distance is of great importance to Greyson.

When I first pick him up he lets me know … a little closer, please. A step closer and he cranes his neck to see better. Closer still and he starts to squirm. One more step closer to the machine and the message is clear … that’s far enough.

Can cats talk … you bet they can, you just have to know how to listen.

Day 3: Snail mail vs. email

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 3: Snail mail vs. email

Back in the day when I was young (gosh that’s ancient history) people talked about the good old days and I wondered what was so good about them. These days I find myself thinking the same thing ... ah, the good old days.

Take mail for instance. With the arrival of email and chat regular mail has somewhat become obsolete.

Who remembers waiting for the mailman? On the street where I grew up the mailman usually arrived around 11:00 a.m. Through snow, wind, rain or shine, he pushed his bicycle from house to house with a sack full of mail. When he approached our house, I waited if he would stop by our mailbox and when he did I would rush to the box to see what we’d received.

Envelopes with window were for my parents, but occasionally there would be a letter for me. Oh, the excitement of it.

Nowadays I rarely receive a real letter anymore, instead, I receive emails. And while it’s nice that mail is instant with no chance of anything getting lost, I somehow miss the old-fashioned way. 

I remember getting a block of paper and a pen, sitting down at the dining room table and starting a letter to one of my friends. The smell of the paper, the pen gliding across its smooth surface ... it was a relaxing and satisfying task. Then it was waiting for a reply, which could take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks.

Another thing of the past is the excitement of the phone. Back in the day, businesses and shops had phones, but regular people ... no, hardly anyone had one. When phones became popular our neighbors started applying for such an apparatus and had to wait months for a phone line to be installed. We got our phone within a matter of weeks, but only because my brother was diagnosed with diabetes. Medical reasons pushed an applicant to the top of the waiting list. That and my boyfriend at the time worked for the phone company.

Once the phone was installed, heaven help us when it rang. It was such a momentous occasion that we quite literally fell over ourselves to answer it. The phone rang … my goodness, everyone stopped what they were doing and rushed to be the first one to get to it. Nobody ever called for me, because my friends didn’t have a phone, but that didn’t stop me from joining the race.

These days just about everyone has a cellphone, often ignores a call and prefers to let it go to voicemail. How times have changed.

Ending a call has also changed. Who remembers slamming the phone down when displeased with a certain caller? I have slammed the phone down more than once. These days, I merely jab at the ‘End’ button.

Then there is the car. These days just about all cars have an automatic transmission, but in my day cars were manual. Part of the fun of driving is shifting gears, pushing it into first, throwing it into fourth. What fun is there is merely pushing a pedal?

Then again, with modern cars parking certainly has improved. From what I understand, some cars park themselves.  Oh, how I struggled with reversed parking when I first learned how to drive! I failed my drivers' exam twice because during the reversed parking segment I kept knocking down the pylons.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was super nervous and after another pylon went flying I just about lost it.

“I can do this,” I told the examiner. “I really can but you’re making me nervous.”

“Alright,” he said, “you practice a bit and I’ll go get a cup of coffee.”

While he was gone I did the reverse parking three times and three times it worked like a charm. When the examiner came back, he marked my exam paper as ‘passed’.

“But you don’t know whether I can do it or not?” I told him.

“Oh yes I do,” he said. “I’ve been watching you from the coffee shop. You’re good to go.”

When I think of things in my good old days, I wonder what this generation will look back on when they recall their good old days. Will people in due time learn how to fly?

Day 2: Choosing a laptop

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 2: Choosing a laptop

Yesterday I mentioned that I had purchased a new laptop. Today I would like to tell you how that purchase came about.

My old laptop was getting really slow. Whether it was starting up, shutting down or opening programs, it took forever. After a few weeks, I got so fed up that it became clear that my laptop’s days were numbered.

While I was downtown Toronto I dropped by Best Buy and had a look at their laptop section. Oh my goodness and what a joy, there were so many models I flitted from one laptop to another like a butterfly flutters from flower to flower.

It soon became clear though that not all laptops were suitable. Some were too small, others too expensive, while with others still, I didn’t like the keyboard.

The keyboard of a laptop is very important to me. I insist on soft touch. So when I saw a computer I liked I pretended to type something, to feel the softness of the keys. People who watched me must have wondered what on earth I was up to.

When my son joined me in the store and learned which laptop I liked the best he said not to buy at Best Buy, he had seen that very same laptop at Costco for $100 less.

At Costco the choice in laptops was limited, but since I already had a preference the purchase was made within minutes. Or so I thought. As it turned out, Costco didn’t have that particular model in stock but they did have another model, for $50 more. Fine I would pay the extra $50.

Pleased with my purchase I returned home. My new found joy didn’t last long though. Once the laptop had gone through its formatting and I started typing, the cursor jumped all over the page due to constant contact with the touchpad. I tried to fix it, I tried to disable the touchpad, I even chatted with someone from the Hewlett Packard support team, but the touchpad wouldn’t be beaten. To cut a long story short, I returned the laptop and got a refund.

Back at square one, I went online in search of a computer. After a lot of browsing, I ended up at the Best Buy website where an Acer laptop was on special with a $150 discount. Wow, what a stroke of luck. My current laptop was an Acer and I had been very happy with his service. So why not go again with an Acer?

I placed the order and three days later the laptop arrived, neatly wrapped in protective paper and a firm cardboard box. While the cats checked out the box, the computer was duly formatted for use. 

It took a long, long time for the machine to be ready and when it finally was … what a disappointment. Not only was the new laptop slow, slower than my old machine, but the keyboard was horrible. Horrible with a capital H. It was like typing on an old fashioned typewriter. Not tik, tik, tik, but tok, tok, tok.

I wondered what to do and always came to the same conclusion … the laptop would have to go. If this was something I would use for a day, a week or even a month it wouldn’t have bothered me, but a laptop is good for a few years, and considering the amount of money I spend, I felt that I deserved satisfaction. So, off I went again to return a laptop.

This time I went to a different Best Buy though, one in Scarborough. When I entered the store I thought I had died and gone to computer heaven … so many computers, this store had even more laptops than the one downtown.

Before we could make an exchange though we had to visit the Geek Squad who had to check the laptop. They gave it their seal of approval and now we could go to the customer service counter. 

And would you believe it, we encountered a self-important little bitch (pardon my French). She told us that if we bought another Acer laptop she would agree to an exchange, but if we went for another make of laptop she would not. I tried to reason with her, but the 5 feet something 20 something-year-old would not budge.

Well, we would see about that. She might be a little bitch but I can be a big bitch and this slip of a girl had nothing on me.

At the laptop section of Best Buy I once again flitted around from one model to another. “Too slow,” my son said when I indicated a machine a liked. “Not enough memory,” son dear said when I selected another. 

Eventually, a very nice Indian chap joined us who was of great assistance. So that’s how I eventually selected my dear Fred, a 15” Lenovo with enough memory, suitable speed and a keyboard so soft it feels like typing on marshmallows.

Dieter also liked the machine and decided to get one for himself. So now the nice Indian chap had not made one sale but two. Off he went to find two Lenovo laptops from the storage facility and we waited on one of the couches.

As I sat there and looked around, I wondered why there are only black and silver laptops? Why not blue, or lilac, or even a cheerful yellow. “Because guys won’t buy a colorful computer,” Dieter said. Well, what kind of reasoning was that? Women buy computers too and I’m sure they would prefer a nice color versus a boring black.

Yes, I know, Apple has beautiful white laptops, but an Apple was not in my budget. I looked at one and was on the verge of falling in love when I noticed the price tag … good Lord, did this machine come with a matching printer and desk!

When our nice Indian man returned he had a smile on his face and two boxes in his hands … our Lenovo laptops. Once again off we went to the customer service desk to trade in the Acer laptops and pay for the Lenovo laptops. I wondered what would happen … would the bitchy girl accept the exchange?

Fortunately, the girl was nowhere to be seen and a young man had taken her place. Ah, things were looking up. The man didn’t even blink. He accepted the Acer laptops, prepared payment for the Lenovo laptops and …

Just as the sale was about to be finalized, the bitchy girl made an appearance. She slithered over like a snake and hissed something in the young man’s ear. There was a brief discussion during which I held my breath. If she was about to make trouble, I was prepared to go into battle. She may be head of the customer service, but I was a customer and as we all know, the customer is king (and I felt like a queen). Mentally I put on my boxing gloves ... bring it on little girl.

As things turned out, I didn’t have to say or do anything. The nice young man send her off with a flea in her ear, she made a quick retreat and we walked out with our laptops.

Ah, sometimes life is good.

http://connymanero.weebly.com/blog/day-1-resolutions

Day 1: Resolutions

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 1: Resolutions

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Fred, my new laptop. Together we’ll try to bring you daily stories. I do say ‘try’ because I might be busy, tired or just have nothing to say.

For a while I had a project going named ‘365 Creative Writing Prompts’ but there was nothing creative about it. To me, creative writing is fictional, and my posts were anything but. So, I’ve said goodbye to that project and I’m starting something new. This new project is called ‘Between you, me and the lamppost’ but that can change. If you can think of something better, I’m all ears.

Anyway, getting a new computer seemed like the perfect time to start a new project and along with this new machine come three resolutions.

First resolution:

I said goodbye to social media. That mainly means I will no longer look at the home feed of Facebook. I will occasionally post something and still play Bingo and Gin Rummy, but I will no longer look at what other people post. Why? Because I’ve had it with seeing pictures of animal abuse.

Whether it’s a cat or a dog, a bunny or a horse, seeing animal abuse makes me so mad I could throw my computer across the room. So, for the sake of my laptop, I rather don’t look anymore.

Second Resolution:

I’m letting go of the past. For far too long events of the past have dragged me down and giving me sleepless nights. Well, no more. From now on, when memories haunt me, I’m going to push them away, I’m done with them. As someone told me ... Visualize an open box, put memories into that box, close it, put the box in a safe and lock the safe. This is my way of locking away those memories.

Third Resolution:

Recently I started a new manuscript and I intend to work on it every day. In the past, my manuscripts have gathered dust and I eventually abandoned them. Starting a new story is easy, but keeping the story going is a lot harder than some people think.

That’s not the only reason I got discouraged with writing though.

Many years ago, self-publishing was a respected business. Proof of that is John Grisham who self-published his first book ‘A Time to Kill’ and was consequently contracted by a mainstream publishing house.

Ever since that success everyone and his auntie have been self-publishing books. Some are good, some are bad, some are downright ridiculous. I read of a woman who’s 6-year-old son published a ‘book’. The book in question counted only 5 pages. 

Fact is, with so many people publishing their works, self-publishing has lost its value. More than that, self-publishing has gained a bad reputation. Far too many people when they see that a book is self-published withdraw and move on to something else.

Still, I won’t let this get me down. I’ve started a new manuscript, the first 18 chapters are done in the first draft, and I fully intent to keep going.

In conclusion … I’ll try to post something every day, but I can’t guarantee it. Some post will be funny, some venting about this or that, some will be animal stories and with some, you might laugh out loud.

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Day 166: Think before you pull out your wallet parents

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 166: Think before you pull out your wallet parents

My friends and I got together the other day. Alice was not in a good mood, in fact, she was fuming mad.

“Get this,” she came straight to the point, “Margaret’s maternity leave is almost finished, and she doesn’t want to go back to work. She wants to be a stay at home mom. She’s a qualified chartered accountant and now she wants to quit her job!”

“Do what I did,” Victoria said, placing a calming hand on Alice’s arm. “The very same thing happened with my eldest daughter Cindy. She studied law, passed the bar exam and got hired by one of the big law firms of Toronto. A month later she and Eric got married and three months after that she got pregnant. When it was almost time to go back to work, she announced that she wasn’t going to, that she was going to be a stay at home mom.”

I said “That’s fine honey, but I invested in your future by paying your tuition, amounting to close to $200,000. Now you have a choice, you either go back to work or you are going to pay me back. I won’t charge you interest, but if you’re gonna throw your future away, I want that $200,000 to be paid back to me. And not with $20 a month, we’ll set up a payment plan. We make the amount payable over 10 years, which will amount to $1,666 per month.”

She started laughing and wondered where in the world she was going to get $1,666 a month. I said, “Well honey, that’s your problem. But that’s how it is.”

When she saw I wasn’t joking, that I was in fact deadly serious she wasn’t laughing anymore. When her maternity leave finished, she returned to work. Problem solved.”

I don’t have that problem with my daughter, Angela,” Maggie piped up. “I wouldn’t mind a grandchild, but when I talked to Ruby about it she was having none of it. “Do you think I put myself through university, studied my ass off and worked two jobs just to chuck it all away in a kid?” she said. “Forget it, mom.”

It seems to me that the problem lies with the parents. If mommy and daddy pay for tuition the son or daughter is more likely to chuck their career at the first opportunity than if the student pays out of his or her own pocket. They know what it took to get where they are and are more likely to appreciate it. 

Think before you pull out your wallet parents!

Day 165: Elizabeth Ray – scam artist

My project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 165: Elizabeth Ray – scam artist

You probably pride yourself on being smart, but how smart are you really? Can you spot a scam?

Yesterday, I was approached by Gloria Allendorfer-Anderson on Facebook who told me that she was awarded a grant of $50,000 and that I might be eligible too. All I had to do was get in touch with Elizabeth Ray (email elizabethray938@gmail.com)

Just for fun I sent Elizabeth an email and of course she let me know that I was eligible for a $50,000 grant too. I knew right away that I was dealing with a scam artist, but I decided to have some fun with her.

When she asked for my name, address, phone number and monthly income I gave her bogus information and when she wanted to know whether I wanted the $50,000 in cash or with a cheque, I opted for a cheque.

Then came the kicker … in order for the money to be delivered to me by UPS she wanted $1,000. Yeah, right, like I was going to send a complete stranger that much money.

I played along and said that I would send her the money. She suggested that I go to Walgreens or a CVS store. When I told her that no such store is in my neighborhood, she suggested I transfer the money via Western Union.

I suggested that I pay her directly to her bank account, but she was having none of that. If she gave me that information, it would be very easy for the police to track her down.

Not that tracking her down is much of a problem for those who know how. With her I.P. address they have her in a matter of minutes if not seconds.

This kind of scam, or shall I say all kinds of deceit makes me mad though. Generally, people work hard for their money and then a scam artist like Elizabeth Ray comes along and steals folks' hard earned cash. She herself probably probably never has done a day's work. She spends her time sending people emails and hoping that they fall for her scam. If only five people a day believe her nonsense, that's $5,000 for a few hours of 'work'.   

I might not have a Harvard degree, but I’m smart enough to spot a scam a mile away. Unfortunately, scammers are smart too. 

In the case of Elizabeth Ray, she will change her name and her email address and bamboozle who knows how many more people.

In conclusion … be wary of Elizabeth Ray and her partner in crime Gloria Allendorfer-Anderson, they might even be one and the same person.

If you keep the following in mind, you should be safe:

Never trust that a stranger wants to give you money. Nobody is going to give you money out of the goodness of their heart.

Never give your real name, address or phone number to a stranger.

Never trust a stranger who wants you to use Western Union as a money courier.

And last but not least … if something seems too good to be true … it usually is.

Day 164: Why is it so hard for self-published writers to accept advice?

Just about every writer is familiar with John Grisham’s story. He wrote ‘A Time to Kill’ in 1988, when he couldn’t find a literary agent or publisher he self-published his work and sold the books from the booth of her car. In due time he was discovered and contracted by a mainstream publisher and … the rest is history.

Ever since Grisham’s success everyone and his uncle has gotten it into their head to write a book too. But as Christopher Hitchens said “Everyone has a book in them, and that’s where it should stay.”

Over the years it has transpired that some people have an obvious talent for telling stories, while others should have taken Hitchens words to heart and never put pen to paper (or their fingers to a keyboard).

Not only do those people have no idea what writing is all about, but their spelling and grammar is so atrocious that their writing efforts become laughable.

I recently came across one such individual (lets call her Lesley) and while I tried to remain polite, she lashed out at me with vitriolic expressions. Other than her hurtful words she stated that unlike me she was not raised in the English language.

I had news for Lesley; my mother tongue isn’t English either. I was born and raised in Belgium and I didn’t learn English at school but from TV, watching Dallas, Dynasty and other shows. Around the same time, I started buying English newspapers and magazines, thus learning the spelling and grammar of this new language.

Later still, I joined a writing site, and met a lady who lived in Las Vegas. We started corresponding and she offered to edit my articles before sending them to the publisher. As it turned out, my English wasn’t as good as I thought it was. She pointed out spelling mistakes such as: there/their – advice/advise – affect/effect – bear/bare – stationery/stationary – isle/aisle, etc.

If I had been like Lesley I might never have learned the finer points of the English language. I didn’t take offence when she corrected me, on the contrary, I appreciate the help and made notes.

Some will say that it doesn’t matter how a story is written. If the publisher sees dollar signs he will give the manuscript to an editor who will work his magic on it. Just look at ’50 Shades of … rubbish’. A worse story was never written, but the author had contacts in the publishing industry and whoever took on the project knew that the book would sell because … sex sells.

Anyway, back to Lesley … I had a look at her profile on Facebook and is it turns out, Lesley isn’t even a writer. She joined several writing sites on Facebook without any credentials. She hasn’t written a book, she hasn’t even written a story. Judging by her profile her aim is to sell merchandise and to find a boyfriend.

All her profile consists of are selfies in various poses in various stages of undress. Not that Lesley is a beauty, she’s quite ordinary looking is not a little slutty.

Anyway, I tried to help her, but my help was not wanted. Which is strange because, open any mainstream published book and you will find a section where the author profusely thanks the editor for his/her help. If respected authors can accept help, why can’t self-published writers?