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!

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.

My Frenchy Look.

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…

Pablo - Mexican drug lord.

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.

Flirting with my Sydney  bf (don't tell Pabs).

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 my tongue out at random strangers is fun!

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

Plus we share a penchant for taking selfies:

Love is cuddles.

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!

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.

Lovely bead-studded bow.

Post-Blossom:

Droopy beadless bow, dripping with saliva.

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.

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A little tableau of trivial importance.

IMG_1367 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.

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. For blog Poppet tells me Shapchat is all about the narrative and not just fleeting photos to interest and dazzleI 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. IMG_0962The Pecking Order: In the little coop, chicks Lasquisha, Lacy, Cinnamon and Princess are fast growing into hens. IMG_1384 Lasquisha continues to dominate. Not content with pecking her minions on the head, she now jumps on them.

I'm Lasquisha and I'm GORGEOUS!

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?"

“Has she gone yet?”

"Don't mess with me!"

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?)

Chook equivalent of bubble bath.

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.florist quoteBlooming 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

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!

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.

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…

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

SERIOUS and other important trivia…

Those of you who read this blog and they’re aren’t all that many, (but it’s QUALITY not quantity that counts right? 😉 ) understand that flippancy is my middle name. That my preference in writing posts is for tongue-in-cheek, self-mocking nonsense about chooks, dogs, coffee and Poppet, although anyone who is the parent of a teenager or remembers being a teenager, will appreciate that teenagers and in particular, teenage girls, are anything but trivial individuals. And indeed Precious Poppet is every bit an important and high-maintenance individual.

Autumn Perfection.

Poppet and Autumn Perfection.

 

S & M     D & M

Occasionally though, I do get a bit existential deep and meaningful and wax on about something weightier, more philosophical.  I’ve read a few insightful posts this past week or two on a variety of serious topics – too many to mention now, so please don’t be offended if I’ve commented on your post, but haven’t mentioned it here.

One on incivility in social media stands out: Let’s Talk Twitter and Trolls and Dinner Parties, shall we? Kat’s post looks at ‘trolling’ and general impoliteness on social media and urges us to engage in virtual discourse as one would do with face-to-face discourse, with good manners and decorum. This post made me think about life before social media and I got all contemplative. Of course, there was work, family commitments and writing a year ago, before I started writing a blog and twittering, and I was very busy but it was a different kind of busy. I didn’t jump with glee when I received notification of a comment or an email to inform me I had a new follower on Twitter. I was a rather simple creature in my non-virtual world. I didn’t squeal with girlish delight when my tweet was retweeted or avidly read a particularly warm and charming comment on my post. I was spared the pleasure, or pain…if my tweet disappeared unanswered into cyber space or my post languished comment-less. I wasn’t needy. I think I was a bit cooler.

Yet there’s so much good about social media – engaging with clever and interesting people everywhere – the sheer scope of talent and opinion is vast. They might not be real friends in the sense of those we meet up with regularly for coffee or brunch or dinner or just meet up. But real ones, nonetheless.

SERIOUS

I read several brilliant posts written on ANZAC Day and its significance and one lingers:  ‘Reflections on the selflessness and sacrifice of some ordinary Australians…’ I’ve never before read anything more lyrically worded on war and its devastating implications than that of Wing Commander Sharon Bown. Simply beautiful words. Then there’s Majoring in Literature, an erudite blog that’s good value, reviewing books with a close understanding of the text, combining travel and history, interspersed with beautiful photos.

And there was Deb’s interesting post on idealised TV shows and life envy: ‘Why I won’t be watching Offspring.’ I seriously believe ‘life envy’ has increased exponentially since the advent of social media. There might have been perfect people with perfect lives around before but we didn’t know about them. We were spared their perfection.

Bad Behaviour and Girls’ Schools.

Jonah Takalua has a lot to answer for. I recall when Summer Heights High came out  a few years ago and Year 8 boys thought it was funny to draw dictation on the black/white board. They chanted “Puck you, Miss. JOKE Miss!” with monotonous regularity until I wanted to send them all back to Tonga, except they weren’t from Tonga. They were typical Aussie kids just trying to escape writing essays.

Image courtesy of: futuremusicgroup.com

Image courtesy of:
futuremusicgroup.com

Jonah from Tonga is back. No wonder Pinky (that witty minx blogger I know) wants to work in a girls’ school. This post is HILARIOUS: ‘Why I want to work in an all girls’ school!‘  And you don’t need to be a teacher to appreciate it. (Apparently smiling – even the act of stretching your lips in a grinning expression whether you feel happy or not – releases feel-good endorphins that literally lift your spirits). I guarantee that after reading this post you’ll be giggling, very naturally. 😀

CHOOK UPDATE – THE STORY OF RED.

We bought Red, Snowy and Blacky as two day old chicks  all ostensibly GIRLS. Snowy and Blacky were feminine hens but Red was always a bit butch blokey. But hey we’re not discriminatory about gender in our family, feathers or no feathers. But when she he started crowing pre-dawn, a VOCIFEROUS TRILLING “COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOO!” it was time to take Red back to the farm (we’re in the middle of suburbia!) I should’ve noticed before this, especially when she he was mounting cuddling the other hens in an unplatonic way. The Sexer had got it wrong. (Bizarre as it sounds, there is a profession/job entitled “Sexer”. They look at chicks’ private parts and deem them male or female…Sometimes Sexers get it wrong).

CHICKIBABES.

growing chickadees

They’re getting bigger and have moved to a larger pen, but I’ve observed an undesirable hen dynamic: Lasquisha – the biggest and bossiest – dominates. Unfortunately, the pecking-order is alive and flourishing in real life. Lasquisha keeps Cinnamon, Princess and Lacey under control. She pecks them on the head for no apparent reason except to show she’s the boss…a bit like the classroom/playground bully, really.

I'm boss!

I’m boss!

Who is big and bossy in your life? Or are you the boss? And I’m not being sizeist either, I mean big in the metaphorical sense…

Linking up today with Rhianna and Thankful Thursday which has made me focus on the things I am grateful for: I’m thankful that Lasquisha can’t boss me around (I just can’t avoid flippancy!) I’m thankful that Poppet is no longer being bullied. And I’m thankful for the dying splendour of Autumn leaves. Is there anything in your life that you’re thankful for?

Joining With Some Grace for FYBF

Weekly Photo Challenge: Treasure (not trash).

When I saw the title of this week’s photo challenge and began thinking about treasure, the old adage “Someone’s trash is another’s treasure” sprang to mind. The concept of treasure is an individual one. It’s a different thing for everyone…it’s what’s precious to you. Gold figures largely in our historical view of treasure. The Three Wise Men brought treasure in the form of gold, Frankenstein frankincense and mirth myrrh. A gold ring was Gollum’s treasure, whereas pirates preferred a chest dripping with golden jewels. And the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow…a mere temptation of treasure, an illusion. Robert Frost spoke of gold’s elusive power in “Nothing gold can stay.”

Looking at the wonderful diverse photos of treasures this week, it occurs to me that treasure isn’t remotely connected to its monetary value. On the contrary, a treasure seems to be a token – a symbol of a thought or experience, a feeling…a memento in a run-of-the-mill day or week, year. It’s something – often materially small and insignificant – that we put away in a safe place, to look at from time to time. To keep till we’re old and grey.

With this in mind, this is my treasure, my gold – newly acquired, already precious: IMG_0640 This was a gift from Poppet on Valentine’s Day. As the cover suggests, it’s a booklet of coupons, each promising a treat (breakfast in bed, foot massage etc). One coupon stands out because I know this will cost Poppet a lot of effort. She’s not a big reader, especially of the classics…or anything older than five years (and she has the misfortune to have an English teacher for a mother). 🙂 IMG_0644 I was a bit mean to Poppet recently. I told her my Year 10 class had requested to read ‘Pride and Prejudice’; I sang their praises – even tweeted about it!

https://twitter.com/Lee_AnneWalker/status/433099617954058240

She must have been listening…

What is your treasure? Is it an old letter, a diary…a trinket from an ex-lover, a photo, an heirloom. Maybe it’s a shell that triggers a memory of summers past, or a book from childhood. I’d love to hear about it.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Treasure.

Blocked, defriended, unfollowed…

Flippancy is my middle name so I’ll begin with a photo my son sent me:

IMG_0517

This funny pic got me thinking about blocking and being blocked. I thought about a recent experience on Twitter, where someone I follow – a strong, intelligent, articulate woman who happens to be a feminist – was being trolled. She blocked the perpetrator but others – anonymous or using fake gravatars – popped up and joined in the trashing of this woman…not just her views, but her appearance, her sexuality. This led me to think about rudeness, ugly rudeness. My grandmother used to say: “Manners cost nothing” and called people “ill-mannered” but that phrase doesn’t really cover the viciousness of an online troll. A troll used to be a hairy monster who lived under the billy-goats’ bridge. Now it’s a not-so-hairy monster who lives on the internet…

Image from: oakthorpesc. files

Image from:
oakthorpesc. files

This woman’s trolling reminded me of when Poppet was bullied in Year 9. She was fourteen and had just dumped (her first) boyfriend. It was amicable, they were still friends, yet this didn’t stop some of his friends from posting revolting things on Facebook. There were anonymous bullies on Formspring (a site active two years ago), but somehow the Facebook ones were worse because they had names and therefore profiles…faces. They were real. Poppet didn’t tell me about this bullying at first. Like many teenagers, she internalised it, blamed herself. After all, she’d dumped a very popular boy, a boy with loyal, vocal friends. I can’t repeat what was said – it’s too graphic to type here, but think of one of the worse things you could say to a young girl, think sexual, and you’ll be close to the truth.

I found out accidentally, glancing over her shoulder one day, eyes zeroing in on her screen, so appalled I wanted to seek out this boy and tell him off; ring the school; ring the police; ring his mother.

But world weary Poppet, just fourteen and already apprised of the online world and its dark corners, said: “Don’t! It will get worse.”

“What’s worse than that?” I shrieked.

She blocked him – this ill-mannered but quite normal boy. Interestingly, he’s apologised to Poppet recently. Two years older, now at the same school and lately acquiring some manners, he told her he was sorry that he “…said some stuff. I was a total d**k.”

But I’m not sure if an apology, even a sincere one, can really appease the victim (or her mother). An apology shows character – not many people can apologise, least of all a teenage boy – but an apology can’t negate the immediate and ongoing effect of those brutal words on a fourteen year old girl (and her mother).

Before this post becomes not nearly flippant enough too grim,  I’ll mention my own experience on Facebook. I freely admit I’m eccentric weird with social media. I pick and choose. I don’t have Facebook – nothing against it, I just find I must limit social media, as it is a heady drug that keeps me from the offline world, the real world. But I did once have a Facebook account, which I opened on the advice of EVERYONE. And in the three hours my account was alive, I’d acquired quite a few ‘friends’. People popped out of the woodwork from all over the place and my head spun with giddiness. I was so popular! But I was suddenly privy to an array of family snaps from people I barely knew; news and status updates from relative strangers filled my feed. This I could deal with, but then suddenly I gazed with stunned horror at my own face – tagged in a photo that week when out to lunch – grinning with Cheshire Cat brilliance (that photo would not have survived my delete button!)

Traumatised reflecting quietly on my new public life, I closed said account and spent the next twenty four hours fielding offended ex-friends and contacts, apologising profusely to them. They’d all thought I’d blocked and defriended them…as if? A sense of the ridiculous is mandatory with social media, I feel. 🙂

According to my in-house online expert, Poppet, Facebook is practically obsolete, at least for teenagers: People only use it for invites and arrangements now, no one posts statuses anymore… *insert eye-roll*…it’s all Instagram and Snapchat! 

The online world is a diverting place. Poppet sent me this:

Image credit: Redditpics.

Image credit: Redditpics.

What are your own experiences with being blocked, defriended or unfollowed? Or is your world full of ‘sweetness and light’? 🙂

Linking up with Essentially Jess for IBOT.

Weekly Photo Challenge: A different kind of family.

I took this photo yesterday of Poppet and Small.

Izzy and Daisy

The photo challenge ‘family’ probably meant family as in mothers and fathers, children, husbands and wives, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles… But perhaps not. Lots of things constitute family, after all. I define ‘family’ as anyone I love, without necessarily a biological or marital connection at all. One of my closest friends has no family as such. He lives alone in an apartment, with his dog. His dog has his own bedroom, his own bed. My friend’s dog is his family and his friend, rolled into one.

So this is Poppet holding Small, a big part of our family. Small isn’t smiling, as she usually does because she is old and frail. The photo disguises it well, but Small is tired and sick and nearing the end of her long, much-much loved life.

Linking up with Weekly Photo Challenge – Family.

A new year kind of thing.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Many bloggers at this time are writing uplifting posts full of self-betterment and resolutions. On this topic I will only say that I’ve resolved to be more tolerant and gossip less. Whether I will stick to this is a moot point because when I boasted my virtuous resolution to a friend, she said: “Don’t do it, you’ll become bland!”

Now to random and pictorial waffling…

When I was trying to escape a pool party on the weekend, a friend sent me this:

Photo credit: Pinterest

Photo credit: Pinterest

Do you ever have parties that you’re obliged to attend because you ought to be neighbourly? But where you only know the hosts and you can’t exactly latch onto them as they’ll be very busy hosting, and you have no desire to meet their hordes of friends, especially not cavorting around the new pool?

Do you mix with your neighbours socially or are happy with a quick smile and wave, over the fence or in the stairwell of your apartment?

I’m not sure I have the hang of this blogging caper. I may have mentioned before that I am laconic verbose by nature, but the trouble is, when I am writing for public consumption, I over-analyse and over-draft…OVER-THINK.

I have a horror of being boring. I should be desensitised because I’m a teacher…I am paid to bore people. But only teenagers, not unsuspecting adults. I don’t take it personally when I notice 30 pairs of eyes glazing over…closing. English is the ONLY compulsory subject in Year 12, no one can drop my subject, which is good as it gives me power – leverage to encourage study – but bad because I bore a lot more teenagers than other teachers. Not everyone likes analysing poems.

Despite my fear not to be, as Poppet calls it “cringing”, I am going on with my blog into 2014. She is a severe critic is Poppet, with the casual brutality of youth. She regularly tells me, “Old people are cringing on social media.” (By ‘old people’, she means anyone over 32).

A few initiatives have helped me to blog: Kerri Sackville’s #MyFirst blogging challenge and Essentially Jess ‘s IBOT, as well as the sheer eclectic range and quality of the few blogs I follow.

Why do you blog? Is a compulsion or just fun?

Hen News: The new ex-battery cage chickens have settled in, finally. They’re getting fat and fluffy, they’ve started laying and are being pecked less by the older hens – the Mean Girls. A chook house is a tough place – a microcosm of the school yard.

Check out my booty!

Check out my booty!

Dog News: Small is ageing and she’s turned into a mini-tyrant who requires her own personal lady-in-waiting. Every moment I am at home, I wait on her – carrying her upstairs and downstairs, tempting her with tasty morsels – enslaved. If I don’t, she whimpers CONSTANTLY and – if her medieval serf doesn’t immediately spring into action – this whimpering rises to a crescendo of yelping. She looks adorable…don’t be fooled.

I'm resting at present but be on high alert.

I’m resting at present but be on high alert.

Big is the opposite of Small – undemanding, laid-back. It sounds a bit creepy and inappropriate but if he were human, I’d date him 🙂

I'm cool.

I’m cool.

Do you have a demanding pet (or human) in your family?

I saw a film yesterday and it was a little contrived, a touch pretentious, but there was a good line or two in it. This one made me think about perspective and our individual view of reality.

“Life is not what we live; it is what we imagine we are living.”
― Pascal MercierNight Train to Lisbon

Is your life close to the one you imagined?

Photo credit: tikkido

Photo credit: tikkido

More random musings…

mcwineA friend sent me this…if you haven’t already seen it, it’ll make you snigger. And why don’t McDonalds do wine, they do Mc everything else?

Having been accused of  elegant verbosity verbal diarrhoea, ‘short blog posts’ is my new mantra. Short and with pictures – I understand our eroded attention spans – a picture tells a thousand words isn’t just a cliche, it’s a truism. I have proof: I can tell Year 12 100 times, in a serious voice: “There are 2 English papers – 4 essays, a narrative and a comprehension question”, but their eyes glaze over. Yet when I draw a nifty mind map on the white board, with a few goofy pictures and arrows, they’re riveted! I like cliches and truisms – they are wise sayings, usually eloquent or concise, or both. And if they’re hackneyed, well, there’s a reason – they’re accurate reflections of human behaviour, they resonate.

This picture was taken by Poppet, who put it on Instagram or Snapchat (I can’t keep up with her social networks). It’s Small in her new dog-buggy. Small is old with severe arthritis and can’t really do walkies with Big. Small actually likes this ridiculous new contraption – a cross between a senior citizen shopping trolley and a stroller. It makes her feel part of the action, (although some insensitive persons at the dog park have been known to point and guffaw).

I do hope m'lady is enjoying her chariot ride.

We trust m’lady is enjoying her chariot ride.

I like the following variation on Annie Lennox’s ‘Sweet Dreams’. As a HUGE cheese aficionado, I relate well to these lyrics…

Photo credit to Pinterest.

Photo credit to Pinterest.

The following quote is well worth contemplating, Wilde of course:

“It’s absurd to divide people into good or bad, people are either charming or tedious.” (‘Lady Windermere’s Fan’ 1892) I know where Oscar’s coming from…

But, lest I’m being too frivolous, here is a deep one by French philosopher, Descartes, from almost four hundred years ago:

“I think, therefore I am.”

It’s hard for us in the 21st century to know why he said this, but before the Enlightenment, I guess people didn’t have a well defined sense of self. Now we’re all narcissists!

I found this picture beautifully evocative – that mist in the background is dreamy, contemplative…and the pottering hen is magic. 🙂

Photo credit: Pinterest.

Photo credit: Pinterest.

What is your favourite cliche or piece of philosophy, from the classics or popular culture…even The Simpsons? (The Simpsons does a pretty good version of ‘Hamlet’) 🙂

Linking up today with Essentially Jess for IBOT.