Day 60: Poor Greyson

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 60: Poor Greyson

Greyson is upset with me, and for good reason. If he could talk, he would say that he suffered a mild case of animal abuse. Not once, but twice. Here’s what happened.

Tonight I came home from work and together with Dieter I made the beds. The duvet was folded three quarters over the bed to give the bed a chance to air. In order to straighten the bottom sheet, we threw the duvet off the bed and heard a ... clonk.

Moments later, Greyson appeared from under the duvet with a face that asked ... what’d you do that for? The poor thing, by throwing the duvet on the floor we inadvertently threw Greyson to the floor who lay napping under the folder duvet. I wanted to pick him up and tell him how sorry I was, but he was having none of it.

As if once wasn’t enough, a short time later we had another accident.

I went to my room to fold the laundry. That’s when I noticed a black sock on the floor, sticking out from under my bed. I bend to pick up the sock and heard an angry ... meow!!! That's when I realized, the black sock wasn’t a black sock but Greyson’s dark, fluffy tail.

In my defense, the room was rather dark and I wasn’t wearing my glasses. If I had, I would have seen the difference between a sock and a cat’s tail, but as I said, I didn't wear glasses. 

I crouched in front of the bed and noticed two amber eyes glaring at me. In response to my “Sorry baby, I didn’t know it was your tail,” Greyson turned his back on me.

Halley who had heard Greyson’s meow, in protest of me pulling his tail came running into the bedroom. She dived under the bed to comfort Greyson and no doubt plotting revenge. I could just imagine it, Halley stating ... don’t worry brother, I’ve got your back.” And she did.

About an hour later I went to the bathroom and as usual, Halley came with me. She positioned herself on the corner of the vanity table. On the vanity table also stood a new toilet roll. While I wasn’t looking, Halley inched closer to the roll and with her front paw deftly knocked the roll in the toilet.

Well, I never. And it wasn’t cheap toilet paper either, it was Charmin paper. After I fished the roll out of the (clean) water it was only good for one thing ... the bin.

I can only guess what those two have in store for me tonight. After these two cases of minor abuse, they no doubt will make me pay.

My guess is that Halley will come and sit on me, and she’s not exactly a light cat. Greyson from his side will wait until I drift off to sleep before sticking his cold wet nose in my ear and start purring, followed by licking my nose.

Lesson learned. From now on, before throwing the duvet off the bed, I will check that no cat is napping underneath it and when I see a black sock on the floor, I will make sure that it is indeed a sock and not a tail.

I’m sure that those of you with cats can relate.

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Day 59: Something to make you smile

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 59: Something to make you smile

It’s Monday morning and if you’re like me, you can use a little pick me upper. Something to make you smile. Well, I’ve got just the thing ... funny birds. A lot of attention is given to funny cats and dogs, but birds can be funny too.

Let's see how they would do if birds had jobs...

6:00 a.m. ... time to get up

Just out of the shower

When a colleague is wearing the exact same outfit

Lunchtime in the cafeteria

I want a raise!!!

You asked for a raise?

I'm gonna march into his office and kick his ass

   

When I talk, you listen

You want me to do what?

Every workplace has favorites

Is there something I can help you with?

I'm not waiting for five o'clock, I quit

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Day 58: Why I chose a condor for my first tattoo

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 58: Why I chose a condor for my first tattoo

Yesterday I mentioned that I would explain why a chose a condor for my first tattoo as a condor is not an obvious choice. Let’s face it, a condor is an ugly bird, and if young girls are compared to pretty birds than older women are ugly birds. As such, I’m an ugly bird.

But there is another reason why I chose a condor tattoo.

Many years ago, I started playing ten-pin bowling tournaments. I was not exactly champion material, but I wasn’t a bad player either. My average was 175 with an occasional 200+ and a top score of 257.  

In tournaments, however, I went to pieces. All my opponent had to do was give me a dirty look, ignore me, or say “You’re gonna lose” and my confidence went from 100 to zero in two seconds flat.

How it happened exactly I can’t remember, but I came across a picture of a condor. As mentioned earlier not exactly a pretty bird, but definitely a bird to be feared. And for some reason, I started to identify with this bird.

From then on, whenever I stood on the approach, I was no longer Conny, I was ... the condor. Now, at the start of a tournament, or even just a practice game, I imagined the condor, waiting to take flight. 

As the condor, I might not be the most beautiful bowler, but I would soar to new heights and I was to be feared. 

And it worked. A few years ago, Dieter (a.k.a. Raven) and I took first place at a Halloween tournament and we took first place in the league.

Dieter and I no longer play league or tournaments, but we do bowl every Saturday morning. We have a mini-competition going, just for the fun of it. Do I beat him? ... hardly, he’s way better than me. He’s got a 200 average while I only have a 175 average. But occasionally, I do manage to snatch a game from him or manage to come close.

To learn more about the condor and see some great photos.

https://www.chimuadventures.com/blog/2016/07/andean-condor/

http://justfunfacts.com/interesting-facts-about-california-condors/

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Day 57: I did it!

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 57: I did it!

I did it! I got my first tattoo. For years now I wanted a tattoo but a number of reasons held me back.

Like most people, I’d seen tattoo parlors on TV and they looked, to say the least, dark scary places manned by rough-looking men. You know the type, big, bald, burly men with dark glasses and facial hair, in other words, people you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.  

Another thing that scared me were the possible dangers. I’d heard of people getting infected by HIV and hepatitis due to dirty needles or contaminated ink.

And then last but not least, the pain. Getting pricked by a needle a few hundred times seemed like a mild case of torture. In short, why would anyone take the chance and do this to themselves?

Then last week Dora S. posted a picture on Facebook of her first tattoo and I thought ... If she can do it, I can do it.

I went online, searched for tattoo places in Toronto and was presented with a string of possibilities. After having dismissed a few, because I didn’t like the look of them, I found Black Line Studio https://blacklinestudios.ca/

We exchanged a few emails and I sent them a picture of the tattoo I had in mind. 

I got an appointment for the following Wednesday. Since Dieter was on vacation he would accompany me (for moral support).

When I arrived at Black Line Studio I couldn’t have been more surprised. This tattoo parlor was nothing like I’d seen on TV. It wasn’t dark and dodgy but modern and full of light. Neither was there any sign of big, bald, scary-looking men. I was greeted by a friendly stylish looking receptionist.

I got another surprise when I met the artist (Victoria) who would do my tattoo ... a pretty young girl in jeans and an oversized sweater was a mass of long wild curls. This was a tattoo artist? She looked like someone’s favorite cupcake baker.

Much to my disappointment, I couldn’t get my tattoo right there and then. This was merely a consultation and then (if I didn’t chicken out) I could get the tattoo at a later date. We set a date for the following Friday.

And so today was D-day.

Before getting started, Victoria showed me her version of the picture I had presented her with. Hm, to tell you the truth, I had reservations. This didn’t look like a condor, this looked like an oversized turkey. 

But I was there, I had given my deposit, so I might as well go through with it.

Victoria got busy. Without going into too much detail, there was no cause for concern of a dirty needle or contaminated ink as everything was new and sterile. Even the armrest was wrapped in plastic and Victoria wore gloves.

As for the pain ... not worth mentioning. On a scale of 1 to 10, I would say ... 2. I felt something, but I wouldn’t actually call it pain, more like a bit of irritation.

After the initial excitement it actually got quite boring, Victoria seemed to know what she was doing, so I read my book and enjoyed a cup of coffee.

And then suddenly the humming of the pen grew quiet, I had a look and my tattoo was finished.

I’m very happy with the result. As you can see, the tattoo doesn’t resemble an oversized turkey but a proper condor. At the moment the tattoo is still covered with a type of protective plastic. This will come off in 48 hours. 

Before leaving, the receptionist and another tattoo artist/master gave me instructions for aftercare ... special soap and a pure vitamin E cream.

In case you're wondering why I chose a condor ... well, come back tomorrow and all will be revealed.

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Day 56: Writing - Should we listen to others?

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 56: Writing - Should we listen to others?

A long time ago, I was chosen to compete in a national ten-pin bowling tournament. The question was, did I want to play in the bronze or silver division. Bronze players played with a handicap, silver players played without a handicap.

“Choose silver,” Jean-Pierre, a friend said. “The last thing you want is to lose to someone’s handicap.”

“In which division are you playing?” I asked him.

“Gold,” he said.

In my opinion, he was overestimating himself. While he was not a bad bowler, he was nowhere near good enough to play with men who scored a 200 average.

“If I’m gonna be beaten, I want to be beaten by the best,” he told me.

This got me thinking.

Yesterday I posted a writing sample in a writer’s group and my work got slammed left, right and center. One or two people had something good to say, but the majority found fault with it.

Then today I saw a writing sample from another member. To say that it was awful is putting it mildly. Not only was the piece crawling with typos, the grammar was atrocious and the story itself seemed to be written by a six-year-old.

Here is an extract from what she wrote:

I went to bed last night. I lay in bed looking at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. I got up and watched the moon. I couldn’t sleep because my brother was snoring. I wouldn’t wait for morning to come. My mother was out with her boyfriend.

Do you consider this good writing?

The other members of the group, those who had slammed me the previous day had nothing but good to say about the childish writing. They found it fascinating, captivating and looked forward to reading the next chapter.

Thinking that I was perhaps a little biased, because of the bad feedback I had received on my work, I asked two other people to read the work of the other member. Both their reaction was more or less the same ... who wrote this crap and how did she dare publish this online for all to see. Did she actually think this was good writing?

When I told them about my experience of the previous day they laughed and said “Why you do even bother? If you want feedback, ask the professionals, don’t bother with amateurs, they don’t know any better than you do.”

So I did. I asked two well-known authors, who have sold millions of books how they feel about criticism. Both of them laughed and said, “If I had listened to others, I never would have finished my first novel.”

They asked me if I enjoyed writing. When I said yes, they shrugged and said, “Then keep doing it. Who cares what anyone else thinks?”

I guess those are words I have to keep in mind. From what I’ve gathered so far, for some people writing is fun, for others it’s therapeutic, a way to pass the time, or to hang out with their imaginary friends. Whatever the reason, if writing is enjoyable ... go for it.

One more thing to remember ... what’s good for the goose isn’t necessarily good for the gender. There’s no accounting for taste. Do you think Stephen King, James Patterson, Lee Child or Dan Brown care about amateurs’ opinion ... no, they have an idea and set to work. We should do the same.

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Day 55: Fall - beautiful or depressing?

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 55: Fall - beautiful or depressing?

It’s September, the month fall starts and with it the most depressing time of the year.

Some see beauty in the fall, I’m not one of them. Sure, the foliage in fall is beautiful but look beyond the colors and you’ll realize that the leaves are dying and soon after that rotting.

Everything is dying ... the trees, the shrubbery, and the flowers. For months the world will be devoid of color. No more green trees offering shade on a hot day. No more bright red geraniums, playfully pink petunias, or yellow and purple smiling pansie faces. No more anything.

Winter at least offers the beauty of snow and ice. 

While it might be cold, falling snow or gazing upon a white landscape can be a source of joy. But what joy is there to be found in the fall?

Even more depressing is the temperature. Warm days are a thing of the past. It’s only September 8th and I’m already sitting with a sweater on. 

Last year was very different. The air conditioning in our condo building was switched off in the second week of September and the residents descended on the management office un mass. They asked, pleaded and begged the building manager to turn the air-conditioning back on because it was stifling hot in their units.

Not this year. The air-conditioning unit hasn’t been on for days, instead of shorts I’m wearing jeans, instead of sandals I’ve reached for socks and slippers, and as mentioned earlier, I’m wearing a sweater.

Halley and Greyson aren’t bothered by the sudden chill in the air. As you can see, they continue to nap in the balcony swing. 

Yesterday I thought it a little too chilly for Halley to be outside, so I covered her with a blanket. She stayed and continued to snooze. That is, until Greyson came along and started trampling all over her.

Fall ... I guess we'll just have to put up with it. In another six months, it will be spring again.

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Day 54: Did I become a millionaire

Between You, Me and the Lamp Post

Day 54: Did I become a millionaire

Last Friday I made the bold statement ‘I’m gonna be a millionaire’ and I’ll bet some of you are wondering if I indeed won the lottery.

I must say, I had every reason to be hopeful, there had been signs of good fortune to come and when I received an email from the lottery commission saying ‘You are a winner’ I thought ... this is it.

When I checked my account my hopes and dreams were once again smashed to smithereens. No penthouse condo, no Lamborghini in the garage, no giant diamond on my finger, not able to help those in desperate need.

I had indeed won, but not nearly as much as I had hoped for. I had won $40 and a free ticket. Okay, not enough for Dieter and me to quit our jobs, but enough for four weeks of free play. Better than nothing, right?

Maybe it’s for the best that I didn’t win. Would I survive winning millions of dollars?

Many years ago I bought a family magazine every week. At one time the magazine ran a competition. Inside the magazine was a number followed by two letters, for instance, 277 AB. Week after week I checked the provided sticker but I was never the lucky one.

And then one week it happened. I checked my sticker, 934 TN and the winning number was 934 TM. Holy shit, I screamed like I had seen a monster and started jumping up and down.

Alerted by the noise, my then-husband came running into the living room to see what was doing on. “We won! We won!” I kept repeating. He grabbed the magazine, checked the sticker and ... “Hold on a second,” he said. “You didn’t win. The winning number is 934 TM and your sticker number is 934 TN.” 

Oh, the disappointment of it. 

The thing is though, in that competition the winning amount was 1,000 Rand ($87,25). If I had such a reaction to $87,25 can you imagine what I would be like if I found out I had won millions? I'm liable to give myself a heart attack and drop dead on the spot. 

Still, I'll take the chance and play again next Friday. One day (hopefully soon) I will get it right, right?