Friday Follies - Who Are You?

Okay, we all know that how we perceive ourselves is completely different than how other see us.  I'm definitely not the Lone Ranger in this one.  I think many people would be surprised at how far apart others' perceptions of ourselves are from our own.  Sometimes I wonder if we would even recognise the person that other people see.

Yikes! Who IS that?

At a family lunch on the weekend, a off-the-cuff remark was made about me that took me completely by surprise.  I've never lacked in confidence??  You HAVE to be kidding me.  I have been fighting insecurity my whole life and, in my eyes, I'm completely insecure - never good enough, never thin enough, never smart enough, never motivated enough....you get the idea (never have enough cats....but maybe that's a different issue?).  Don't get me wrong - I'm not completely insecure and have come an awfully long way since my teen years, but it still lurks in the background.

I can't say that I'm upset that I'm seen as confident, pretty happy about it actually, but I really don't get it. 

As a child moving between countries, I was the chubby kid with the accent.  If that isn't a recipe for disaster, I don't know what is.  I think it did help me to develop a sense of humour though.  And, as a wise man often tells me  - it's character building.  To that I answer - I have enough f*&*ing character, thank you.  Inside, sometimes I still feel like the kid I was in Grade 6....ugggh.

Ugghhh.

As the older sibling, you would think that I had learned to do a lot of things for myself.  The entry of a baby brother into my life was a blessing at one stage, as I could get him to ask a question, buy something at the store, interact with an adult, etc so that I didn't have to. He did wise up eventually and stopped doing my bidding, but he's always had a better knack at being social than I have.

Ooo, maybe I could have a lion?!

This insecurity and fear of failure was probably the reason that I was often too scared to have a go at things I maybe would have excelled at.  I remember thinking in my late 20's that it was too late to study to be a vet, because I was so old, and 7 years of study would be so long.  Now, at 50, I think about what an idiot I was.  Oh well, we can't regret these choices.  I don't like living in the past, and our choices make us who we are today, and I'm pretty content at this stage of life.  Don't get me wrong - being a multi-millionaire would make me even more content and in a better position to have more cats!  There are still things that I wish I could do, but I am my own worst enemy.

I have tried to address this fear of failure by trying new things.  When I was single, I made a vow to myself to try at least one new thing a year.  It was pretty successful - I took cake decorating courses, started volunteering at a zoo, took bellydancing (and did it for many, many years) and learned to ride a motorbike with a friend (and ended up buying one because it was so much fun!).

So where does this perceived confidence come from?  The following comment was that I definitely have opinions.  Yes, I sure do.  But believe it or not, I keep an awful, awful lot of them to myself because I either hate confrontation or think the other person isn't worth me getting my knickers in a knot about.  The latter is usually the one that applies to the work place.  I find that a lot of people are not worth the energy it would take  (hmmm, are my anti-social tendencies showing?).  I am confident enough to know that everyone does not have to have the same opinions and ideas as me and that no one is necessarily right or wrong.


You would think at 50 that I would become more accepting of myself - my inadequacies and weaknesses as well as my strengths.  I always hear about how a lot women hit their stride at 50.  Some days I get it, some days I don't.  I'm guessing most feel the same as me, I just don't see it because we all wear a mask to hide our raw and honest feelings most days.

As the saying goes, I hope to be the person that my dog thinks I am (Manu, not Chamois - I think Chamois feels she is superior to all of us).  

Manu doesn't think I'm a bully or a nag like my husband does.  I prefer to call it facilitative behaviour modification technique, but tomayto, tomahto.  A rose by any other name....our perception is reality, but reality is not necessarily perception.  But as I get older, I hope that perception and reality are not so distant from each other.

Facilitative Behaviour Modification Technique

Baby It's Cold Outside

Brrrrr, there's a chill in the air lately.  I know, I know, winter in Queensland isn't Canada-cold, but it's still cold and I acclimatised years ago.  The houses here aren't built to keep in the warmth, so if it's cold outside, it's definitely cold inside. Thank goodness winter is short here.

Okay, Queensland isn't THAT cold.

Us humans aren't the only ones that feel the change in the weather - the pets are all feeling the cold too.  Some more than others.

Someone likes a winter cuddle.

I admit, one of my favourite parts of cold weather is that my cats are very cuddly again.  Purrkins is always cuddly, but he is super cuddly in the cold weather.   And Clawde, well, Clawde doesn't cuddle much when it's warm, but when it's cold, I'm his new best friend.  He snuggles up to me morning, noon and night, his favourite place is on my legs curled up into a little ball.  Cat paralysis is a big winter affliction in this household - the fear of disturbing the cat's slumber if you move.

The problem with Cat Paralysis

Not only do I like the attention from him, but nothing is warmer than a furry hot water bottle.  They keep me nice and warm too.

Sometimes Clawde helps Manu to stay warm.

My chickens seem to survive the cold and must snuggle up together during the night in their protected coop.  They have voracious appetites, and they have stopped laying eggs, so all of that energy must go into keeping warm and cosy.  However I have one stupid chicken that has decided that she will not roost with the rest of the chickens, but has chosen to sleep about 8 feet up a tree next to the house.  I'm not sure how she survived the windy, cold night last night, but she did. Silly girl.  She's stubborn though, and my attempts to retrain her to sleep with everyone else have failed miserably, so out in the open she stays.

I think I'll resist the temptation...besides, I can't knit.

Manu doesn't seem to be as affected by the cold. He has what most would consider a normal amount of fur for a dog.  I suspect that as he is already 9 years old (getting up there for an extra-large dog) with arthritis, the coming winters will affect him more and more.  We have a doggie jacket for him, but he doesn't like it and tends to walk sideways when you put it on him - or he freezes in place like a statue.  True, it does entertain me enough that I do try and put it on him at least once a year. The only time I have seen him actually tolerate one is when we've been camping with very cool nights and we are sitting outside.  But that's it.  No jacket for him, thank you.  I didn't even buy him a sissy looking one, but no, he likes to be clothing free.

Chamois is another story.  Her distinct lack of fur on her stomach and poor coverage on the rest of her body makes her an ideal dog for the Queensland heat...just not the cold.  She can't tolerate the cold and curls up as tightly as she can to conserve body heat.  She's old too, but she's always been like this with the cold, and her creaky, arthritic old joints don't like it either.

She has always liked wearing a coat, even when she was 'little'.

Unlike Manu, Chamois does love her jacket.  When she sees me get it out, she sits up so that I can put it on her and then snuggles in for the night.  She'd benefit from a doggie onesie, I think, but I couldn't bear to humiliate her like that.  Or could I?

It may be more fun to get a cat onesie!

Chamois love of her jacket is almost as great as the love of her me taking her jacket off in the morning.  All girls know what it's like when the bra comes off at night - a big scratch and a stretch at the sudden freedom is always in order.  I indulge Chamois in a big all-over scratch after the jacket removal, and I think we may just bond a little over that shared experience.

Friday Follies - Summit Strange is Going On

The biggest news story on the planet this week is the summit with Donald Trump and Kim Jong-Un.  Or otherwise known as 'Dumb and Dumber'.  The fact that a) this has actually happened and b) these two are actual leaders is one of those mysteries that will never be solved in our lifetime.

I've put together some things that happened in their secret meeting, the things that haven't been revealed to the world at this time.  And may never be.  But you heard it here first.

1.  "Look, we've written secret notes in class because we're new best friends".

He likes me, he really likes me!

2.  "I love what you've done with your hair!  Tell me who styles you!"

3.  "Yeah, I know, I  met with the wrong Kim in the Whitehouse the other week.  The good news is - we made a deal too!"

"Whoops, so this isn't the leader of North Korea??"

4.  "That's two for two.  Now, I need to make a deal with Kim Basinger and Kim Cattrell."

Only if your name is Kim.

5.  "I think this new TV show is a great idea.  We just need to change the phrase 'You're fired! to "You're tortured!'."

6.  "Don't you just love being on the front pages of all the newspapers around the world?  In two months, let's insult each other again and then have another make-up meeting.  Maybe somewhere a bit less humid though....my hair, you know."

"Yoohoo, Trumpy.  It's time to be in the news again."

7.  "Oh, no, I think you misunderstood.  I said 'Give up your nukes', not 'Give up your cukes'.  I have enough of my own cucumbers, thanks."

8.  "Ha, they think we are working out a deal, but the truth is that I'm kicking your ass at Pictionary."

"I win."

9.  "Did you see what I said about Trudeau?  I thought you'd like that."

Um, he's the Prime Minister, not the President...



10.  "I've only ever played Hangman on paper, but I like how you've incorporated it into your regime."

"Settle down, we don't want everyone to know my tricks."

I guess we'll just have to keep our eyes open to find out what really happened at that meeting!

Nice Work if You Can Get It

If your pet had a job (like a human job, not their normal job of eating all of your food and shedding on your furniture), what would it be?

I saw this recently on an animal rescue facebook page.  Hmmmm, what jobs would my pets have?

It's an interesting question, and one I pondered over.  I took into account their individual talents and characters as well as their daily behaviours.

The easiest one was Purrkins - I had him figured out faster than Trump can insult half the nations of the world and faster than a Kardashian can take a selfie.

I told you, carry a piece of paper!

Public Service would be exactly the sector that Purrkins would aspire too.  He tries to give the impression that he does a lot of things during the day, but he's really quite lazy and enjoys a nap.  Many naps.  His modus operandi would be to walk around with a piece of paper in his hand so that everyone had the impression that he was busy (but of course he has no opposable thumbs to hold paper, so he just walks back and forth between rooms, announcing his presence).  He would fight to the death to maintain his right to have a pay increase every year, confident in the knowledge that his job is safe and he's a lifer.

Now Clawde, my dear Clawde, would be on the opposite end of the spectrum.  Social work would be his calling, looking for opportunities to greet others, make them feel comfortable and loved, and look out for their welfare.  Face kisses for dogs, dead rodent gifts for his owners, grooming sessions for other cats - he would be in his element.  He is a sensitive soul though, and it may all be a bit too much for him.  Perhaps a Walmart greeter (after all, he doesn't wear pants so he'll fit right in) is more suitable?  If none of those careers appeal, he may be qualified to be a superhero.  He has survived more venomous snake bites than any pet I know.

Are those pants?

And then we have Miss Chamois.  It took me awhile, but I think that the best position for her would be Headmistress at an exclusive boarding school.  I know, it sounds a bit off the wall, but stick with me.  Chamois has very definite ideas of how things should be and how others should act.  She is not against using her size to bully another into behaving, and she is very bossy.  If she isn't the centre of attention, she'll make sure that she takes measures to put herself back into the spotlight.  Her age and arthritis are making her more matronly by the year.  However, as all good disciplinarians do, she seasons her bluntness with a large pinch of affection and a liberal sprinkling of humour.  And as anyone who has ever watched a TV show or movie knows, Headmistresses are never beautiful, but always 'interesting' looking.  Chamois is definitely 'interesting' looking.

"Detention for you!"

Manu....poor Manu - gorgeous and sweet, but not very bright.  Model? No. Accountant?  I don't think so.  Perhaps a food critic?  Not with his faecal tastes.  Ah, I have it....an inspector.  Manu loves to sniff and check out everything from a coat hanger to your socks to whatever you're bringing home from the store.  He'll sniff everything from the remote to your breath - he must check everything out.  I think he would make a fine inspector - he's nothing if not thorough.

The chickens are easy.  Harvey  Henbanger is a Sultan and the hens are his harem.  Sesame is First Wife, without a doubt.

I cannot write this without mentioning my parents' cat, Archie.  If you read my previous blog about this crazy kitten, you'll know what a naughty cat he is.  Archie can only have one job - he'd be in demolition.  So far he has all of his digits, but he'd be one of those wild-eyed crazy guys that likes blowing things up a little bit too much.  Eventually he'd lose a foot or an eye.

Oh, Archie!

I wish all of these lazy fur-butts would get jobs so that they could support me for a change.  I'm sick of working for them.  At least Clawde is grateful.

They all have this exceptional skill.

Friday Follies - Now, What Was His Name?

I'll put my hand up, I'm happy to admit it.  I've got memory problems.

Sometimes I can't remember an event from childhood....fair enough, I think.  That's getting to be quite a long time ago.  I know that the memories are still there, hidden away in a little room in my brain with the door shut.  They can be retrieved though, and with a bit of prompting the door will open and the memory will peak out, exclaiming 'Here I am!  I'm still here!'  That's always a relief, let me tell you.  I bask in the memory, savour the remembered sights, sounds and feelings until it drifts quietly away, back behind the closed door, in hiding until I can tease it out again.

I really, really hope so.

Sometimes I can't remember recent things or even current events, such as 'Why on earth did I walk into this room?'  Once I walk out and get distracted with some other task, it all comes back to me (although to be honest, sometimes I get a repeat as I go back into the room after my 'A-HA' moment, only to discover an 'On No' moment, as I am once again baffled as to why I am standing there.).

I'm not too worried, I know that it's a natural part of aging, that my hormonal changes play a part in it, and possibly some damage done to my neurons in my youth.  I accept it, I embrace it as normal and I live with it.

I know that if a name of something eludes me, I just get on with things and the name will pop into my head at a later time.   Sometimes quite quickly, sometimes not.  But I almost always get there, so I'm not too worried....yet.

I also know that I have good and bad days.  Some days are shocking.  Not only can't I remember things, I can't seem to cope with daily tasks, such as turning the kettle on after I fill it with water, or putting the milk into the fridge - instead of the pantry.  I'm sure it's just a funny little form of enrichment that my brain is playing on me...'What will we find in the cupboard today?'.

Yup, that's me.

Sticky notes, reminders on my emails and alerts on my phone are very helpful, and I use them with great abandon.

But the thing that puts my mind at ease more than anything else is knowing that I'm not alone.

You should hear me and my co-workers, our conversations would be impossible to follow to anyone outside of our (age) group.  They go a little something like this...

'So, I watched a great movie on the weekend.'

'Oh yeah?  Who was in it?'

'That guy...you know...the guy...the one...oh, I can't remember his name.  Blonde?  Short?  He was in that TV show.'

'What TV show?'

'You know...that show...the one where they work in that office.  I can't remember what they did, but it had that lady in it.  You know...the one with the dark hair?  She's been in some movies too.'

'Hmmmm, not sure who you mean.  What was the movie about?'

'Well, they were going to some country...there was this bad guy...you know...the old guy actor?  He always plays a bad guy?  Really good - he's been in lots of movies.'

'Oh! I know what movie you mean.  We saw it the other week.  Can't remember what it was called though.  I think the title had one or two words in it.'

'Yes!  That's the one...you know...THAT actor.'

'Yup, can't remember his name.  Last name starts with a P?  I can't remember his name, but I know he was dating Angelina Jolie for awhile, and was divorced twice.  His mother is famous too.'

And that's how it is.  Pathetic isn't it?  Someone will Google and find out all of the relevant names and information, and there will be a collective 'ahhhhh!' that goes through the office. 

Thank goodness for Google.

We all were talking about the same thing, and that's the sad bit - that we all understand each other.  Does failing memory move between people by osmosis, or does it sync like women's monthly visits?  I'm not sure, but it sure seems to be contagious.

This could be our office.

Wine Not?

Believe it or not, they are now making wine for cats and dogs.  I know...crazy or brilliant??  I think it was invented more for the humans - you're not drinking alone if you are pets are joining in, are you?

The Pinot Meow and CharDOGnay apparently have a similar effect on our pets as wine has on us - they become more relaxed and a bit goofy.  The cat wine uses catnip to this effect - have a look at this video to see some of the side effects.  I'll admit it, I'm a bit intrigued to see if it would work on Clawde and Purrkins.  They are not interested in catnip at all, unlike my previous cats who went crazy for it, but still, I'd like to give a try.

Slurp, slurp, slurp

I can imagine sitting down after a long day at work, enjoying a nice glass of wine while my loyal pets sit next to me, slurping down their beverages.  No actually, I can't imagine that, but there must be a market for it.  Probably the same market that buys fancy beds and outfits for their pets.  My dogs like to lie in dirt holes and roll in poop.....I don't think they are sophisticated enough to enjoy a special drop and my cats are no more up-market than the dogs.

Clawde and Purrkins

This brought me to my next vision that I had in that I had in that middle state between wakefulness and sleep.  You know, the time when weird thoughts invade you brain and become elusive as the morning approaches.

So...what would it be like if my pets enjoyed a glass or two of their special wine?


One too many?

Clawde would be like the high school girl drunk on a gallon of cheap, sweet wine I think.  His love for everyone would increase with the amount he drank.

"Hey, dude, how's it going?" Purrkins approaches Clawde as he sits at the bar, casually slouched into the stool, his fur slightly dishevelled.  And yes, Purrkins would be the type of cat to say 'dude'.

"Pretty good thanks.  Pull up a seat.  Bartender - one for my fine friend here, please" (Clawde would definitely say 'please').  As Purrkins settles his furry derriere into the chair with a flick of his tail, the bartender pours a glass for him and tops up Clawde's wine.

Clawde puts a paw around Purrkins, looking into his eyes. "I've been meaning to tell you something.  I love you man.  No, don't shake your head.  I really, really love you."  Tears well up in his eyes.

With that statement, Purrkins handles the outpouring of affection in the way that he always does, by promptly body tackling Clawde to the ground while biting his neck. 

Yup, that's how it would happen.  I always knew that Purrkins wouldn't be able to handle his alcohol.

Manu would be much the same as Clawde.  Full of love and affection for everyone.  I would hope that it would also calm his nerves a bit and make him more chilled out.  But let's face it, he'd be a mess - drool slipping out of his mouth, and his doodle making an unwelcome appearance.

 

I have tried, but I can't even imagine what Chamois would be like with some wine under her skin.   Crazy, bitchy, mellow....or a combination of all three?  She gets pretty dreamy when she is given one of her 'happy' pills for thunderstorms - the equivalent of our Xanax - so hopefully she would be the same way on wine.  But who knows - she may be a crier.  Or...gasp!....a slut!

Definitely one too many....

So would I purchase some of these drinks for my pets?  Probably not.

It's too risky.  What if they all turn out to be angry drunks and they end up killing me and eating my face?