A tale of Twitter woe.

WARNING 1: Stop reading/looking right now if you don’t like cute dog pics.

WARNING 2: This post contains inappropriate material (as in a dog smoking and the use of the offensive sexist term ‘ho-bag’).

I’m an upside-down kind of a girl!

Blossom McWoof’s life on Twitter was briefer than Tony Abbott’s red speedos. No, I’m not segwaying into politics, I’ll leave that to Ed at the Tunnel Presents… He lampoons with great wit and panache.

Less than 36 hours after setting up her profile, Blossom’s account was closed with the hurtful words “that user is suspended”. OUCH or I should say, WOOF! Twitter needs to work on their interpersonal skills and bedside manner. They didn’t reply to my email in which I lamented this brutal closure and politely requested they reconnect, but perhaps @BlossomMcWoof wasn’t big enough to warrant a reply (with only 3 followers and one of them was her mother). But it was early days – it takes a while to build a decent following…well a week, at least.

7 month old Blossom hadn’t trolled anyone in her short Twitter-life, not even a DOG, but she’d flirted outrageously with Queensland bf, Pablo Escobark.

I am Pablo and this is my Frenchy Look.

While Debonair Pablo’s Frenchness was intensely alluring, that minx Blossom was also attracted to his drug-lord persona. She’s that kind of a girl – excited by life in the fast (and dangerous) lane…

Appearances are deceptive: I am Pablo, Mexican Drug Lord.

Trouble is Blossom’s Sydney boyfriend, Freddy, doesn’t know about Pabs. So perhaps it was for the best Twitter stepped in.

Freddy on left. Please don’t tell Pabs! Plea to Pabs, please don’t tell Freddy!

Are we bored yet? Hope not, there’s more…

Blossom’s mother is Poppet and there is a striking family resemblance:

Poking out our tongues at random strangers while driving is fun!

Plus we share a penchant for taking selfies:

Is this my best angle?

Unfortunately Blossom has a tendency to be slutty (which we’re hoping she’ll grow out of). Although de-sexed a month ago, she jumps on her brother and tries to hump cuddle him. It’s not as bad as it sounds – they’re not blood related (no incest here). Nate (Nathaniel – why oh why do Pet Rescue give their dogs human names?) isn’t very impressed.

Give me a break!

Pets seem to acquire more inventive nicknames than people. Matriarch Coco has the funniest repertoire I’ve ever heard. 🙂  And speaking of nicknames, Poppet has taken to calling Blossom ‘My little ho-bag’ (teen-speak for femme fatale). At least ho-bagness doesn’t seem to run in the family…so far, it’s confined to Blossom.

For my next post, I’m writing about flirting (human, not dog). Alana wrote brilliantly on this topic recently. Apparently the definition of flirting is “acting amorously without serious intent”. Watch this space.

Addendum: As I type, Blossom has just wrecked a 5th pair of shoes (my favourite flats). Grrrrr! If she wasn’t so cute and adorable I’d sent her off to the glue factory (as Napoleon did with poor Boxer in ‘Animal Farm’).

Pre-Blossom:

Lovely bead-studded bow.

Post-Blossom:

Limp and droopy beadless bow, dripping with saliva.

Do you have a cute or destructive force in your house? Or both?

Joining Trish and My Little Drummer Boys today for Wordless Wednesday and linking with Grace and FYBF.

Short Sojourn Shameless Selfie.

Nothing deep or philosophical today…

It’s school holidays and we escaped the city to see a family member starring performing in the chorus of a production of Legally Blonde. Reece Witherspoon made a guest appearance Family member autographed my program, though I’m not one to name-drop. The seaside hotel had a tolerable view of the sea.   On a raving recommendation, we eschewed the hotel buffet (what were we thinking?) and had breakfast in a cafe on the beach, where the prices were pretentious and we queued to get a table, then waited so long for our food that we began attacking the serviettes (or is it napkins – I never do know which?) Of course, Poppet posted her elegant meal on Instagram. Hand up if you remember a time when we ate food instead of taking a photo of it?

Just eat it!

There was a sunrise where the sun spilled like molten gold into the ocean. It was worth sacrificing sleep for.

Molten gold.

Last week was exciting as Pinky made an impromptu visit to Sydney and we caught up. It’s a bit daunting meeting blogging friends as you wonder whether your online persona equates with your real persona. Pinky is just as warm and lovely as her blog reveals. This brilliant overexposed selfie showcases my new teapot, courtesy of Pinky (pink of course).

Teapot selfie.

Next time she comes to town we’re planning a blogger-fest so if you’re in the vicinity (and even if you’re not) please join us. 🙂

It is Wordless Wednesday and I must avoid waffling at all costs. Over to you and your views on some very important trivia.

• Do you resent paying high prices in trendy cafes and restaurants? Do you actually complain or smile sweetly and vent privately?
• Do you take pictures of food or are you sensible and mature, and just eat it?
• Do sunrises or sunsets move your thoughts to poetry?
• Have you ever attended any blogger events? Please share!

Linking up with Trish and My Little Drummer Boys and Wordless Wednesday and joining With Some Grace’s FYBF.

A little tableau of trivial importance.

Poppet sent me this. It really isn’t the sort of thing a girl should send her mother, being inappropriate on all levels. I sniggered then began doubting my parenting skills, while acknowledging how hard it is to raise children to be decent, well-rounded individuals. Parenting is a challenge, requiring an abundance of these liquids qualities: wine, patience, ingenuity, Buddhist-calm, kindness, alcohol, patience, resourcefulness, tolerance, humour, energy, Zen, empathy, champagne, liquor, aperitifs, patience. Unlike the classroom, where you’re on call for a 50 minute period per grade per day, parenting is relentless. And just when you think you’re through the taxing early years, they morph into teenagers and cause you more worry and angst.

This quote by Oscar Wilde is food for thought: “Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.”

Skeleton tree.

A few posts ago I was going on about the beauty of Autumn leaves. Well, our Chinese Tallow tree is a skeleton that signals winter. It is no longer “Winter is coming”, winter is here. (BTW I’ve seen all 4 seasons of Game of Thrones and I don’t recall it ever being Summer. Did I miss it, is it just me?)

 

So after the hottest May on record, I’m welcoming the cold and its accompanying haute couture uggs and trackies, but especially food like this, Mini Cottage Pies. Cool weather makes me hope global warming is an illusion…

Blossom and Poppet. Lots of selfies go on Blossom’s ‘story’ on Snapchat.  Poppet tells me Shapchat is all about the narrative and not just fleeting photos to interest and dazzle. I obviously misuse Snapchat because I just send the 3 people on my list, photos of the cake I’m about to eat so they’ll be very jealous.

But seriously, dog or Ewok? Those ears are growing exponentially! It’s a pity the Star Wars prequels and sequels have waned because Blossom might have scored a cameo appearance. The Pecking Order: In the little coop, chicks Lasquisha, Lacy, Cinnamon and Princess are fast growing into hens. Lasquisha continues to dominate. Not content with pecking her minions on the head, she now jumps on them.

I’m Lasquisha. Get in my way and I’ll jump on your head.

A similar dynamic exists in the big coop where Madam Peck is bullying the new pullets, Cherry and Merry, who’ve taken refuge in the shed.

“Has she gone yet?”

Madam Peck.

For an ex-battery girl, she has a lot of attitude. On the one hand, it’s great she’s recovered from the first traumatic 18 months of life in a tiny cage. On the other hand, you’d think she’d be more sensitive, a little kinder to her flock. This is probably what George Orwell meant in Animal Farm – the oppressed become the oppressors. A grim world view…but on the plus side, there are DUST BATHS. In the chicken world dust baths aren’t just fun, they eradicate lice and other parasites. (I wonder if it works for headlice?)

Cherry and Merry in dust bath (equivalent of bubble bath).

Our local florist had this quotation written on her blackboard and it reminded me of the concept of average and our endless quest to rise above it.Blooming is an individual thing and everyone’s blooming is different. I see it in the classroom when the ‘under-achiever’ has a good idea that sometimes eclipses the confidently brash student’s idea. The tentative smile of delight on her/his face – the bloom – is wonderful. 🙂

And while I’m on the subject of average, a few months ago in A Waiting Game I wrote excitedly about a manuscript that had survived the publisher’s slush pile – the first harrowing step in the process to turn Word document into book. Well, the waiting is over – my manuscript has been jettisoned declined.

Image courtesy of Amalie Howard

The word rejected is never uttered in these ever-so-polite letters. How the world loves euphemisms! “We have decided not to proceed with an offer of publication at this stage”. Evidently, and I say this with no sarcasm (for they do know their stuff), my ‘book’ lacks structure and its context (Sydney in 50 years) needs work. Oh well, back to the drawing editing board. It was the first draft, so what was I expecting?!

I’ve found that in publishing – for self-protection at least – you shouldn’t be too optimistic; hopeful and doggedly persistent, but never overly confident or presumptuous. But manuscripts are a bit like babies, they make us a little protective and sensitive to criticism,. So I’ve devised some rules:

• Rule 1: let go of ego.
• Rule 2: develop the skin of a tyrannosaurus.
• Rule 3: share manuscript with an expert – a paid mentor or a clever friend who will tell you the truth, even though you will hate her/him forever be hurt or offended and probably both.
• Rule 4: Give clever friend a VERY nice present.

My 1 year Plan:  EDIT. Don’t waste time. In spare time (after school work, family and urban farming duties) be more disciplined, EDIT, refuse coffee/drinks with friends. Work harder, EDIT, avoid being frivolous, EDIT, avoid whiling away hours on social media. EDIT.

I don’t need an epiphany to tell me that this 1 year plan may not run to schedule.

Over to you. What is your biggest challenge and what do you need to be more disciplined about? What virtuous goals are on your 1 year plan?

Linking up with My Little Drummer Boy and joining Grace for FYBF.

The right time.

Meet Blossom!

It’s been over three months since she died. Although Daisy was only a dog, Poppet wasn’t moving on, she was bogged down, bereft with grief. As mentioned in A Little Tribute, she couldn’t recall a time before Daisy. So, very impetuously, I jumped in the car and drove to a faraway place to rescue Blossom…and Poppet, who would never have made the decision to get another dog – she felt guilty and disloyal even thinking about a replacement. Blossom isn’t a replacement. Daisy was unique and so is Blossom.

Since this photo was taken, Blossom has matured morphed into a minx, creating joy havoc all over the place. Basically, the pic below encapsulates Blossom.

Photo Credit.

Who have you rescued lately, animal, vegetable or human? Or maybe you’ve been rescued rather than the rescuer – restored and revitalised by someone or something…

Image Credit

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joining Trish and My Little Drummer Boys and linking up With Some Grace

Transgender Hen.

Visiting Grace at FYBF today.

Red.

You’ve probably gleaned that the above isn’t a real rooster, it’s made of metal. This statue is in memory of Red, the handsome hen-rooster we had to take back to the farm. You see Red was meant to be female. We were assured he was a girl-chick when we bought those three tiny chicks prior to ‘the massacre’. Red’s story is diverting, if only to show what an accomplished  incompetent urban farmer I am. We picked up two day old chicks – black, white and red – from the free-range farm and gave them the imaginative mundane names of Blacky, Snowy and Red. They grew into gorgeous hens. Well, two did. But more about this later. It’s Wordless Wednesday and I’ve already written too many words. More pictures…

Our latest chicks are growing fast, losing their fluffy feathers, gaining sleek ones.

Princess, Cinnamon, Lasquisha, Lacey.

Identical twins Cherry and Merry will start laying in about a month. Meanwhile they’re exploring the garden…

The hens might look pretty but for an urban farmer my gardening skills are amazing  horrendous.

Image courtesy of: homeimprovguide.com

 

This is how I envisage the vegie patch.

 

 

 

Image courtesy of: ourlocallife.com

 

 

This is the reality.

 

 

 

 

However, The Orchard is flourishing alive . A lemon and an orange tree are clinging to life after the lime tree dropped dead retired. But who needs a lime tree when you can buy that nice condensed lime juice in a packet and keep it in the fridge? It never dies.

 

The Orchard (note metal sunflower – will not die).

Are you an urban or country gardener? Can you grow anything – herbs in a pot on the windowsill, tomatoes on the balcony? Any tips?

Linking up with Trish over at My Little Drummer Boys.

A bit random…

It’s Autumn here in Sydney (some call it Fall) but nothing is falling or fading just yet. This pot catches the afternoon sun, insisting it’s still high summer…for a few more weeks.

Spilling over from my last post…

“With freedom, books, flowers and the moon, who could not be happy?” Oscar Wilde.

What would you add to Wilde’s list?

A friend sent me this from Pinterest. 🙂

I hope your pets avoid this kind of thing…

Linking up today with Wordless Wednesday.

What makes you happy?

                     

A few weeks ago I took some photos of flowers for a Weekly Photo Challenge or was it Wordless Wednesday? (I can never do WW – I waffle too much). Anyway, I got busy and didn’t post them. Then on the weekend I was reading an article about the eternal human quest for happiness and contentment, Happiness is a but a series of good-hair moments. What I found clever about this piece was that it broke this whole human endeavour into, quite simply, “moments of joy”.

Sometimes you can forget to smile when times are stressful or sad. I’m not talking about pleasure – obviously sex and food and alcohol philanthropic works and cuddling small children and animals help here. I’m referring to instant, fleeting happiness – a moment of joy.

What makes you smile? Corny and cliched as it sounds, flowers do it for me…I’m a bit obsessed with them. 

I like dandelion because they begin as tiny, insignificant, yellow flowers then morph phoenix-like into fluffy pom-poms that beckon you to bend and pick one, blowing gently as you make your wish.

Flowers are important  things. And liking them isn’t confined to the female gender either. William S thought the rose was so special he wrote the words: “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” while Juliet anguished over the feuding Montagues and Capulets, deciding that a name was nothing after all…that even with a different name, Romeo would still be the same Romeo. (It works in theory William, but somehow I don’t think a rose would smell as sweet if it were called cabbage or cumquat).

Do flowers make you smile? Perhaps one that springs from a boring bulb every year – a jonquil or freesia? Or a daffodil – it has no perfume yet Wordsworth (another William) wrote an entire poem devoted to its beauty.

Handwritten manuscript of ‘I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud’ – 1802.

It’s hard to fault the flawless grace of Holland’s tulip.

Our Australian floral emblem must rate a mention – it has a day named after it. These canary yellow bunches make you sneeze but in their hundreds of variations, they bejewell their drab hosts all over the countryside in September. 

Then there’s gerbera, it’s suffered from bad press, mocked for being too mundane, yet there’s something very dependable about these plastic looking flowers (plus they’re cheap – $6 a bunch from my green grocer) 🙂

I can’t ramble about flowers without alluding to Dame Edna Everidge. This grande dame wrecked the perfectly respectable gladioli by wearing scary glasses on stage and waving bunches of them around her head (but seriously, the gladioli never was an elegant flower).

Finishing with Oscar Wilde, who had witty and wise words to say on most subjects:

“With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?” .

Sadly Wilde didn’t have freedom (though some might say nothing can shackle the imagination).

Do flowers make you smile? What would your floral choice be if you could have a basket delivered to your door right now? It is difficult to narrow down a favourite, if pressed I’d find it hard to name any one flower…

Linking up today with Essentially Jess and IBOT. 

Happy New Year!

Oatley Point – 1/1/2014

Linking up with ‘Wordless Wednesday‘ and wishing everyone who drops by, all the beautiful things in 2014, real and intangible.