My Littlest Petshop Meets World of Warcraft

I need to relax and spend more time with my kids, or maybe not.

I was calmly attending to my ablutions when the door flew open and banged against the bathroom wall.

My youngest daughter rushed in and threw a heap of soil into the hand basin. Needless to say I was quite surprised and not a little annoyed and I can’t say that the situation improved when she turned on the tap and started washing soil away from four very long wiggly worms.

Blithely ignoring my shouts of indignation and threats of retribution she calmly explained that her various creatures’ diets, of shop bought pet foods needed to be supplemented occasionally; and taking a Lumbricus Terrestris in hand she swept out of the room 
leaving three more swimming around, I swear they were laughing at me!

They wouldn’t be laughing long though.

The mini zoologist’s voice floated in from her room,” My aquatic frog swallowed that one whole” she reported gleefully. Returning momentarily she grabbed two more of the ill fated creatures and disappeared. Apparently terrapins are equally greedy for this delicacy, whole worms.

which is a mercy when you consider that the final worm was chopped into bits,so that it wouldn’t choke the fighting fish. 

What?

A day or two passed and I forgot the horror. 

So you can imagine how I felt when a relaxing coffee in the garden was interrupted by gleeful shouts of “27 snails! Get me a bucket”…  

… Yes, quite. Get me one too please.

Blogging Without Makeup Day

According to THE BLOGGESS  who is following the lead of JODIE we are supposed to be blogging without makeup today and as I haven't posted since Easter I thought why the hell not. But first let me introduce you to some of the family...

 TURTLE

GRANDDAD

GRANDMA

HUBBY

and now for the moment you have all been dreading........

ME

As an added bonus I am also blogging without a hairbrush just to show you all how brave I am.

Too Irate to Celebrate.

I wasn’t expecting Easter to be a happy occasion this year but I thought that we would at least get to eat a nice meal. How wrong can you be?

I suggested to my husband that it might be a good idea if he helped his 89 year old father to barbecue the meat but he was not impressed with the idea. He did however manage to check on his father’s progress from time to time and tell him what he was doing wrong before wandering off for another cigarette and a sip of iced coffee.

I busied myself in the kitchen seasoning meat and preparing salads and muttering under my breath about turnip headed trouts. In retrospect I should have paid more attention to what I was doing.

It took granddad over two hours to get the barbecue cleaned and lit so time was getting on and tummies were rumbling by the time the lamb chops, pork chops and sausages were cooked I had a plate of golden chips ready and the salads just needed dressing.

The best part of any BBQ for me is that first bit of meat snaffled off the grill but this was not the case on Sunday. As I happily chomped on succulent looking lamb chop my anticipation of gastronomic bliss plummeted from a precipice of panic as I realized that the chop was as salty as the dead sea. Drastic action was needed so I grabbed a bowl filled it with warm water and as I washed the chops granddad tossed them back on the grill for a quick sizzle. We carried the doctored dinner into the kitchen and were met by thick smoke bellowing from the fryer. In all the excitement I had forgotten about the last lot of chips (though they now resembled charcoal bricks) and we arrived on the scene just in time to prevent a fire.

We sat down to a meal of slightly less salty meat and cold chips then I remembered the salad dressing. I quickly threw salt oil and lemon into the mix and poured it on the salad before realizing that I hadn’t added pepper. Grabbing the pepper pot I turned it upside down over the salad and the lid fell off emptying the entire contents into the bowl. Once I had removed the salad with most of the pepper and tossed the rest we sat down in the smoky kitchen to a meal that was more eye watering than mouth watering and I couldn’t help wondering if my mum in law was having a ghostly chuckle about the mess we were making now that she isn’t here to shout and chivvy

Getting back into the swing of things.

Swinging

He hadn’t understood why she was so upset.

After twenty years of marriage he said
their sex life was getting stale.

Lots of couples did it.
Swinging was the thing he’d said.

She smiled contentedly
as his body swung in the tree.

Swinging wasn’t her cup of tea
but it was just what he deserved.

Shout Out for The Bloggess

If you came here expecting to be entertained then go here.

Perfect in Public

He's the perfect gentleman, at his lady’s elbow, kind and solicitous, smiling for the crowd.

She, recalling the man she fell in love with, feels a flicker of hope.

Back home, hanging his suit in the wardrobe, he tucks his caring persona in his pocket scowling at his family.

She returns to her divorce plans.

Death of a Day.

I refuse to justify the waning of the day
No matter that the sunset is a glorious blaze
.
It is the death of daylight.
Spilling its lifeblood into the sky.

No matter that the stars are bright.
They shed precious little light.
To illuminate the black of night.

I cannot accept this death of daytime.
The moon, a melancholy globe,
Does nothing to assuage.
I’ll mourn ‘til morn.


.


ELEVTHERIA POTAMOUSIS
1933 - 2010
RIP

Invisible 55

She planned her escape, reflecting on fourteen years of marriage.
If she had been the whore he claimed, she would have screwed all his friends and told them what a dickless wonder he was. The problem wasn’t that she wasn’t a lady, it was that she hadn’t married a gentleman. Time to find a solution.

The Final Countdown

Tired flesh sagging on aged bones.

A frightened face confused and worn.

The patient speaks,

“I feel so weak.”

I reply,

“You have to eat!”

The medical bills have all been paid.

There is no cure, you feel betrayed.

The patient speaks,

“I feel so weak.

I reply,

“You have to eat!”

No more drugs, no more hope.

No one tells you how to cope.

The patient speaks,

“I feel so weak.”

I reply,

“You have to eat!”

You make plans for when you’re stronger.

I ask the doctor “How much longer?”

The patient speaks,

“I feel so weak.”

I reply,

“You have to eat!”

You’re still hoping for a future.

I pray you won’t have to suffer.

The patient speaks,

“I feel so weak.”

I reply,

“You have to eat!”

I wonder if when you die.

I’ll have the strength left to cry.

The patient speaks,

“I feel so weak.”

I reply,

“You have to eat!”

I apologise to my friends for my apparent lack of interest.

Life and imminent death are keeping me busy.

Short and Sweet

Unexpected

Surprised into joy,

By birdsong in the city,

I think of you,

And smile.

The Second Coming of Cathy

I have been missing, if not missed, from blogdom. There are many reasons mostly to do with having too much to do and not having the energy to do it. However, as I decided when I started this blog, I am not going to let life's myriad problems suck the joy out of me ever again. Those of you who have read my poetry stop laughing please.

I have a new hobby. I am learning to paint and whilst I don't expect my efforts to be hanging in any galleries next to The Masters I am enjoying it .I've posted a couple of my daubs, they are both unfinished but knowing that you are kindly souls I thought it worth risking your ridicule just to let you see how easy it is. I've only had 3 lessons so I hope to be able to improve on my current efforts.

PEPPERS

GREEN TEA

Prisoner of Pain

The future’s looking far too bright
Frozen in its intense light
There’s far too much to gain
You’re a prisoner of pain.

You hang on to what you know
Just maintain the status quo
And it may sound insane
But you’re a prisoner of pain

Circumstantial incarceration.
Is your excuse for avoiding action.
There are things you have to do
You know “They all depend on you”
And it’s a crying shame
But you’re a prisoner of pain

A bird in a not so gilded cage
Smiling to suppress your rage
You want to make the change
But you’re a prisoner of pain

Shackled by your fear
You’ve shed so many tears
And there’s no one left to blame
But you’re a prisoner of pain

I could offer you some good advice
I could tell you how to live your life
But I can’t escape my chains
And I’m a prisoner of pain

.

This poem was inspired by a comment

made on Flutter's blog by Krista.

"Why does pain feel safe?"

Recipe of the Day 2

Lazy Bitch's Oatmeal Cookies

Before I begin I would just like to point out that it has been well over a year since

my last recipe . But Lazy Bitch is as Lazy Bitch does, which isn't much.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup butter, softened (I‘m not in a softening mood. There’s a bottle of olive oil right next to my elbow, I’ll chuck some of that in.)

1 cup white sugar (which cup? Sod it a mound is more my style.)


1 cup packed brown sugar (oops! not got any. Oh well treacle’s brown… just thank your lucky stars that’s the first thing that came to mind.)

2 eggs ( ok )

1 teaspoon vanilla extract ( extract this)

2 cups all-purpose flour ( damn cups again! So, a bigger mound)

1 teaspoon baking soda ( yup, use by 2007! Surely this doesn’t go off, does it?)

1 teaspoon salt (that’s a small mound in the middle of my hand)

1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon (Oh my God! well too late now, so how much fell out of the jar?)

3 cups quick cooking oats (The kids are going to eat this Alpen if it’s the last thing they do!)

raisins or nuts - optional. (That’s handy I wasn’t planning to pick them out of the cereal )

Right now it’s all in the bowl let’s mix it up.

DIRECTIONS
1. In a medium bowl, cream together white sugar, butter, and brown sugar. Beat in eggs one at a time, and then stir in vanilla.
2. Combine flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt. Stir into the creamed mixture. Mix in oats. If you are using nuts or raisins, mix into dough, combining well .
(OOPS!! Too late now, what’s done is done… I wonder if it’s supposed to look like a giant chicken’s bowel movement.)

Cover, and chill dough for at least one hour. (How am I going to fit it in the fridge? Let’s check some sell by dates…. Ham 4th Jan…that can go. Ouch! Was that a brick that just fell on my head? No, it was forgotten bread rolls… a bit beyond toasting, Breadcrumbs? Sod it. This margarine tub’s nearly empty; I can grease the baking tray with what’s left. There, now I can fit the cookie gloop in the fridge).

3. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F, Grease cookie sheets. Roll the dough into balls, and place 2 inches apart on cookie sheets. ( BALLS! Aren’t cookies like biscuits? Shouldn’t they be flat? And what’s this two inch shit?)

4. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in preheated oven. Allow cookies to cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.
( 10 mins isn’t long enough, my finger went right through that one)

Makes approx. 36-60 cookies, depending on how large or small you make them.
( 20 if you follow my recipe and make balls the size of, well “balls” .which means they won’t all be the same size. )

They taste really good, I’m quite surprised.

Now we just have to wait and see if I‘ve poisoned anyone).

Original recipe

Best Graphics - MySpace/Hi5/Friendster

about the blog list

It's a work in progress so stop grouching if you aren't in there yet and think you should be.
If you're not in the old one either and wish to object by all means leave a comment.

Hope Springs Eternal

An aging woman's last vestige of beauty is her hair.

Through 13 years of battling cancer Elevtheria was adamnant, she would not undergo any therapy which caused hair loss. When the doctor's found cancer in her liver a few months ago she was faced with a stark choice - baldness and hope or certain death in the near future.

My children helped her to make the decision, "Gran what is more important, you having hair or us having you?"

4 months on we awaited test results to see how effective the therapy was being.....

... Lung cancer GONE! Liver cancer reduced in size. We are continuing therapy and maybe we will beat this thing yet.

Ladies... BALD IS BEAUTIFUL.

Tears for Kalliope

What do you remember about the day before your wedding?
I remember a rather tense hen party with my Greek friends and English relatives eyeing each other warily over the canapés. I remember drinking hot chocolate at 5am with my brother when he returned from the stag night.

My mother in law remembers the death of Kalliope. Murder most foul! In fact the only reason she remembers the date of her wedding 50 years ago is because there was no music, as a sign of respect for the bereaved family.

My in laws were married on 24th August, 1958. We had a quiet family celebration to mark their anniversary. They remember nothing of their wedding but were able to tell me every detail of the death that preceded it. No mean feat when you consider that my dad in law often forgets that he is wearing a hat….

Kalliope was a young woman who lived in the mountain village of Ayia Gala in Chois.
She was married and expecting her first child. Her day was taken up with a round of chores, ranging from housework and cooking to tending animals and working in the fields, a simple life hard work but without the stress of our modern lifestyle.

The only apparent blot on her landscape was that her husband, Lefteres was a philanderer. He had an eye for the girls and all the village knew about it. He was particularly taken with Barbara and not very happy that he was about to become a man with responsibilities. Lefteres, like many of the men from chois was a sailor and spent long periods of time away from home, he is said however to have had a hand in planning the death of his pregnant wife.

On 23rd August 1958 Kalliope’s husband was away but Barbara’s brother was there, in the village and filled with malevolent intent. He wanted Lefteres to make “ an honest woman” of his sister and this was not possible as long as Kalliope was in the pictue.
He followed the unsuspecting wife of his sister’s lover as she set out to bring the animals in for the night. It was a feast day and there was music in the street played by a band of travelling minstrels. It was a hot summer night, nobody would have been indoors. It seems unlikely that no one saw the comings and goings of any village member. And yet when the police questioned the villagers not one of them could shed any light on the movements of their fellows or suggest a possible motive for the crime.

Kalliope was found in the fields where she had gone to tend her mother’s animals, not one corpse but two, her and the unborn child. She had been stabbed to death her killer(s) were never punished. Her husband married Barbara. Everbody knew what had happened to Kalliope but not one single person cared enough to make it known, until now.

Rest in peace Kalliope, today ( half a century after your death) you will be mourned, you and your child.

Coming Soon.

A true story of marriage and murder.

Needs meme

I saw this meme on Trav's Thoughts
and decided it would make a good stop gap
until I get round to posting about my holiday.



All you have to do is ...
Google your first name
with the word needs after it
and post the results





Here is what I got... more or less

All Cathy needs is a big feather to fan him and ...
(It depends who HE is!)

Cathy needs …A life worth living
(I’m working on it.)

CATHY NEEDS A CABARET AGENT IN SYDNEY
(Who’s Sydney?)

Cathy needs a bit of cheering up today.
(Prozac.)

cathy should get a boyfriend.. cathy needs an angel, I want to hug cathy. ...
(You’ve got to love GOOGLE! )

Vincent D'Onofrio in "Paradice Hotel "...

Cathy needs pain medicine.
Cathy wants to be suctioned
Cathy wants ice chips.
Cathy wants to change ...
(Ok already, sheesh.)


cathy needs chocolate. lots of chocolate and a name change. ...
( mmm and hmmm.)