Aphrodite with a hangover....!!!

Hello and Happy Hallowe'en to you all! And (Yay!!) Mad Lady was on the bus again today, and this time she was in costume! Well, she had a lace tablecloth draped over her head which was a jolly good effort. She rather reminded me of a dove, all in white, looking out of the window and cooing to herself while rocking backwards and forwards. As usual I turned my music off (all the better to hear you with, my dear) to see if I could catch some of her wisdom to share with you all, but she is pretty softly spoken for a Mad person, alas. Also, a man was busy asking me if I was from England, on account of the Union Jack "Harrods" bag I use for work. He was so enthusiastically welcoming me to Anchorage and telling me what an asset I was that I didn't have the heart to ask him to be quiet.
Sadly, all I managed to hear was Mad Lady accusing Aphrodite of having a hangover, then adding that she (Mad Lady) would like to punish Aphrodite for her recklessness. She also said to nobody in particular "Excuse me, it's Hallowe'en. I'm in costume, I'm in character" then she began to coo again, and cluck softly like a hen.
I must admit, I'm rather fond of Mad Lady, just as long as she doesn't make eye contact with me as I haven't got a plan in place if this should ever happen. I'm thinking I could possibly just look away and pretend I haven't noticed, in that way that possibly only the British have. For example, a few years ago I worked with a very nice man named Martin. Martin had some kind of complicated medical condition which meant he had very poor eyesight and hearing, and in addition to that he actually had no ears. The good old NHS had provided Martin with contact lenses to help him see, and  hearing aids; they had also rather thoughtfully provided him with a pair of very fetching rubber ears. These ears were actually pretty good; you only noticed that they weren't real in the Summer, when Martin's face acquired a lovely tan and his ears didn't. Anyway, one day Martin was on his coffee break, with another coworker named Robbie. Somehow, Martin accidentally knocked one of his ears off. It bounced off the kerb into the gutter, and poor Martin had to run after it before it rolled down the drain. When Robbie was recounting this story to the rest of us later, we all asked him how he had reacted. Robbie, in that so typically English way, said "oh I just pretended I hadn't noticed......" !!!
Just as I pretended I didn't notice that Lady Bus Driver last night was brushing her teeth while she drove......no, none of these things are weird or out of the ordinary when you share a planet with over 7 billion others, and that's just the humans-you just have to love diversity.....

This is Sargeant *** call off your dogs!!

Yes, the title is a direct quote from a conversation I overheard on the bus last night. I, unlike the perpetrator, have left out the name involved.
There was a bearded man in camouflage trousers on the bus, and he proceeded to have three conversations on his mobile phone, right there on public transport, at full volume (can we use our indoor voices on the bus please......). It would appear that he was in the Military and was trying to sort out some kind of problem,regarding somebody who was supposed to go to a support and counseling type of appointment, relating to their recent return from deployment, and they hadn't turned up and there was a great deal of trouble as a result. This man was trying to find out what had happened, using the "I can't help you, unless you help me" method. And yes, he actually finished with the above sentence; I'm assuming it was in a figurative sense, and that having dogs set upon you is not an actual punishment for missing an appointment.
Now, as interesting as this was, to me and my fellow bus companions, I can't help thinking it might help if people waited until they were somewhere private before they made calls of this nature. Although some of my funniest moments have been spent listening in to the personal conversations of random strangers, only hearing one side of the discussion, and trying to imagine what the other party was saying to garner such responses, do we REALLY need to make that call right there and at that minute? Can it not wait? Don't get me wrong, I love my smartphone; after all I couldn't take sneaky photos of all those strangely dressed Walmartians, or weird people/situations/sights that greet me frequently on my daily commute if I didn't have my trusty Iphone, but I don't feel the need to make phone calls in public unless it's some kind of emergency. I prefer it if nobody but me knows my own personal business (bit tricky, this, when you are a Brit in the US on a Visa with Immigration breathing down your neck and asking all manner of personal questions, but that's another story) and there's NO WAY I need an audience of strangers.
Then again, I suppose it would be a dull and boring journey home if there wasn't at least one commuter shouting juicy tidbits of gossip into that tiny slim box we all seem to have become so dependant on.
So, if you ARE one of those millions who insist on making calls in a loud voice in public, can you at least use this modern technological marvel to say something other than "Hi it's me, I'm on the bus."
I and my humble Blog are forever in your debt...

Blackfish......

It would seem I'm always angry or frustrated about something; trying to change the world every day, one campaign at a time. I sign online petitions, I donate money to worthy causes, I sponsor a little boy in Africa, I recycle, I try and limit my use of plastics, I shall certainly never take part in any balloon releases, and so on. I try and share my passion for these campaigns with others, but at the same time I try not to bore people with my opinions. If just one of my friends or family adds their name or their cash I would feel thrilled, but it has to be the individual's choice.
Last night I sat down and watched "Blackfish". I do not usually choose or dictate what is watched in our house; Perfect Husband is almost always the Master of the Remote Control and I am perfectly fine with this (unless he tries to make me watch "Battleship" again....) but last night I was resolute. Perfect Husband sat down and played with his phone for a while; I could tell that he wasn't really wanting to watch this documentary about captive Orcas. Perfect Husband was most likely thinking "why are we watching this? Why don't we just go to SeaWorld and see the real thing? What moral outrage is my wife going on about this time?" Indeed he had mentioned going to SeaWorld one day, telling me how amazing it is, and how he had enjoyed visiting. I had flatly refused; I do not believe in animals performing for humans as a form of entertainment. I have no problem eating animals, indeed most of them taste delicious, and we humans are omnivores; I just don't believe in exploitation of any kind.
Anyway, "Blackfish" focuses mainly on Tilikum, a 32 year old male Orca who was captured off the coast of Iceland when he was just approx. 3 years of age. Over the last 3 decades he has been in several facilities where he has been made to live with other Orcas which bullied him, his sperm has been used for breeding over 20 offspring, and he has been made to perform to thousands of people, raising a huge amount of money for his "owners." However, during that time he has been bullied by his fellow Orcas; in the wild Orcas live in close family groups and the male babies stay with their mothers for life. In captivity you cannot simply put 3 random, traumatised Orcas together and expect them to get along. Tilikum has also performed breathtaking routines, but the reality is that these Orcas have food withheld as part of their training, leaving them very little alternative but to perform, plus the fact that they get very little stimulation at any other time. When they are not performing they are kept in tanks that are far too small, with nothing to do. Is it any wonder then, that having been torn away from his mother, put in with strangers, bullied, exploited and traumatised, and in no way leading anything that bears any resemblance to the life he should have led as a free Orca, does it come as a surprise to any that Tilikum has killed 3 people in the last 22 years? You may not be aware, as these shocking tragedies have been subjected to every kind of cover up possible. To me, you only have to look at Tilikum, and others that share his fate, to see how wrong this is, to subject these amazing, intelligent miracles of nature to this sad and pathetic life. If this was a human child, kidnapped, bullied, exploited for money, there would be a huge outcry. Take a look at this photo. The dorsal fin is "flopped over" isn't it? This is extremely rare in the wild, usually caused by captivity, stress, swimming in circles due to being kept in tanks that are too small, too much time spent at the surface (performing) so that the fin has no water support etc. To me, this poor, sad, collapsed fin is a symbol of everything that is wrong with keeping something captive.
"Blackfish" is an intelligent, informed documentary. After is was over, Perfect Husband turned to me and said "this is so wrong; these animals need to be free. I am never going to go to SeaWorld again."
And this is how the world will change. One enlightened individual at a time.

Feeling warm and fuzzy.......

Aww. She's beautiful, he's handsome, and the baby is downright adorable! Yes, I have that warm and fuzzy feeling today. I am of course talking about the Royal Christening of cute little Prince George, resplendent in a replica of his Great-Great-Great-Great Grandmother's Christening gown, waving his plump little fists and looking every inch the perfect baby.
And yes I am gushing a little, but I am a big fan of the British Royal Family (having worked as a Housemaid at Buckingham Palace in the 1980's; in fact when I was there William and Harry were toddlers, and just look at them now! Fine young men who do both of their parents and their country proud, but I digress.....) and I love occasions like this. I do not begrudge them their privileged lifestyle, because the money, fabulous jewellery and wardrobe goes hand in hand with responsibilities, pressures and lack of privacy which I am glad not to have. If I put a foot wrong in public very few people will know or care, unlike the high profile Royal Family, whose every move, comment or outfit is reported by journalists worldwide.
I also feel that they bring in a lot of income, through trade and tourism, plus raising awareness about various causes and charities, so I feel they are extremely good value for money, and the Queen especially has served her country unfalteringly for over 60 years.
So how lovely to see photos and share in the joy of a special occasion. Plus it's a fabulous excuse to have a celebratory glass of wine this evening after work!

Has the world gone barking mad???

Ok now seriously people, stop being careless with your pets. In the last 4 days I have witnessed no less than 3 incidences of pet owners being careless, stupid and just downright WEIRD with their dogs and I would just like to bring this to everyone's attention.
On Saturday Perfect Husband and myself had just finished our food shopping expedition at Walmart, and I was leaving with mixed feelings because I had spotted a woman who was the absolute spitting image of Beth (wife of Dog the Bounty Hunter) and hadn't been able to snap a photo because she had spotted me lurking behind the macaroni, staring at her backcombed blonde curls, drawn on eyebrows and 3 inch fake nails. As we drove through the carpark we suddenly saw a small black dog in a blue jacket that was hurtling towards us from our right. Chasing behind him was an old lady who had obviously not been quick enough to prevent her beloved pet from making a break for freedom. Perfect Husband screeched to a halt and we watched in horror as the little dog kept on running, straight into the path of an oncoming car which hadn't seen it. The car made contact with the unfortunate little fellow, apparently clipping its back leg. Perfect Husband leapt out of our car as the small dog got up and limped towards its owner. He explained that it had been hit (our car was blocking her view) and she MUST get it checked. We were both in shock as we drove away, I really hope the lady took that poor little dog to the vet, and I hope it's just bruised and nothing more.
Then last night I had to call Animal Control about the Wolf Dog that belongs to the people who live two doors away from us. I say 'belongs to' and not 'lives with' because the poor thing never seems to be in the house with them, but either roaming the streets unattended (sometimes our garden) or sitting on top of a boat they have in their driveway, looking thoroughly fed up. In the last 2 months I have seen this dog wandering loose in the neighbourhood 4 times, either in our garden, in other people's gardens, or following me down the road. Much as I love my own little dog, I don't generally like dogs I don't know, especially big dogs, and when it followed me down the road last night that was enough for me. So, a warning will be sent to the owners and we shall see what effect it has. Personally I would like to see this dog taken away from them and given to someone who will actually love it and let it into their house; I don't see the point of having a pet and then making it live outside all the time. I'll let you know what, if anything happens.
Meanwhile, the final piece of pet madness was seeing the lady on the bus with her tiny black dog again; it was sitting on her lap, snoozing happily with its eyes half closed when she suddenly produced a black drawstring bag (the kind we used to put our PE kit in at school) popped the little dog in it, drew it closed and got off the bus with the dog completely enclosed in it, not even its head poking out of the top. I don't know if she was off to the cinema and just didn't want to buy two tickets, or if she was trying to sneak it into somewhere else it shouldn't have been, but I don't feel putting a dog in a bag is exactly a comfortable way for it to travel.
So please people, if you're going to share your life with a dog, or in fact an animal of any kind, please be good and kind to that animal, and treat it with love, care and respect.
Dogs should not be running round the streets unattended, under cars, or in bags.
I will leave you with a collage of my own delightful Bindi, making herself a nice cosy nest......

What the Puck...??

I went to my very first Ice Hockey game on Friday. I had mentioned that I would like to go a while back, and Perfect Husband (who always mentally files every thing I say for future use) decided we should go for a meal after work on Friday, then on to the Ice Hockey game.
So we went to "Romano's" first, which is an Italian restaurant in Anchorage. Perfect Husband chose this particular place because a: It is near where I work and b: When he used to deliver there the kitchens were spotless and c:The first three letters in the name were no longer lit up and he thought it would be funny to eat at a restaurant that proudly called itself "ano's"......... This is possibly why we get on so well.
Now I have two complaints about eating out in America: firstly the size of the portions is absolutely ridiculous-NOBODY needs that much food in one sitting and this certainly goes a long way towards explaining why obesity is such a problem here. People feel obliged to eat what's put in front of them, nobody likes to see food wasted, and even though they offer you boxes here to take your leftovers home I'm pretty sure people eat more than they are comfortable doing. Funny, I don't ever remember being offered a leftover box back in the UK, but the portions are a lot more sensibly sized there.
I also hate the fact that you are rarely left alone for more than five minutes to eat in peace here. I am all for a polite enquiry into how the food is, but here in America there always seems to be someone hovering around the table asking if you're "still doing ok?" or even worse asking if you're "still doing ok hon?" Yes I'm fine, no I'm most certainly NOT your hon, and would you please go away and leave me alone to eat my dinner and talk to my husband, or instead of that 10% you insist on, I shall write in the space on the bill marked "TIP" 'The best tip I can give you is to advise you to stop harassing your customers and interrupting their dinner conversation if you ever wish to see a cash figure written here'. I appreciate good service and enthusiasm in one's work but I also appreciate my own space.
So, after fielding a barrage of enquiries into how we were doing, and after shoveling roughly 80% of my chicken fettuccine or whatever it was into a large box (which me and Perfect Husband ate the next day for lunch meaning that the American idea of a "portion" is actually three meal's worth of food) we set off for the game.
After paying to park at the venue (what's that about? We'd already paid plenty for the tickets) we found our seats. My overall impression of the game was a very positive one: it was a little bit stop and start-y, with the team members being substituted almost constantly, plus they only played about 20 seconds of each song almost as a narration of the game, so just as you were getting into Queen's "We Will Rock You" they would play something else........ but it was still exciting to watch the players hurling themselves (and sometimes each other) around the ice.
Apart from when the Home Team scored a goal, the loudest sounds of the night were when a fight broke out amongst the players of course! I don't believe there was any real pain caused, they wear far too much padding for any of the blows to actually hurt, I think this is just the adrenaline and the emotion of the moment, and the crowd loved it, myself included! Even the Referees stood back and let them get on with it, no harm done. If we cannot watch people fight each other to the death in Colosseums any more (I'm really glad about that!) at least we can watch some Hockey players have a quick tussle on the ice to quench our thirst for excitement.
During each break in play two men fired balled up tshirts into the crowd from what can only be described as a huge sandwich (definitely more than a foot long...) Personally I did not wish to risk either my eyesight, balance or dignity to catch a tshirt bearing advertising for yet MORE food products, but there were plenty who did, jumping up and down and screaming with excitement. And that's what it's all about, fun and excitement. So, yes, I shall be going back for more.......

I am Magneto...!!!

Ok so because I was 45 recently and am therefore Old and Past My Youth, I decided I had jolly well better start taking some vitamins. Also they were on special offer.
So for the last couple of months I have been taking an assortment of pills with my breakfast in a bewildering array of shapes, sizes and colours. They range from a pill not much bigger than your average mouse poo to something that even a horse would struggle to swallow, but swallow them I have, with the help of a cup of coffee. I feel very grown up and sensible.
I have to say apart from the daily exercise involved in opening all the various bottles and jars, I haven't really noticed any benefits. I have however noticed one very big drawback, with regards to the Iron tablets........
Iron is something the human body needs to help transport oxygen throughout the bloodstream. If you don't get enough oxygen this can affect how your body and brain functions. Women of course need a higher intake of Iron than men because of that delightful gift Mother Nature gave us, so I figured all this extra Iron would be beneficial.
Not so.
It would appear that when you take Iron, it fools your body into thinking it's your friend by making you feel all powerful and full of energy. But Iron is evil, and has an ulterior motive. This devious plan, probably because Iron is magnetic, is to slowly but surely attract everything in your body that isn't tied down. These things then settle firmly into your intestines, and take on the approximate size and shape of an anvil. I have spent the last few days turning into Magneto; not the all-powerful X-Men type superhero, more like his younger, illegitimate half brother with a crippling pain in his abdomen and a longing for the old days when I could visit the toilet with gay abandon and cheerfully do a poo that wasn't black in colour and the weight of a housebrick. I swear it even felt as though metallic objects in the house and office were attracted to me; I felt quite sure that I would get up from my desk at work only to find myself covered in staples and paperclips, clinging to my waistline like a bullet belt.
I appreciate that this isn't terribly ladylike, and could be filed neatly under the heading of "too much information" but I feel it's my public duty to warn you all against the perils of iron supplements.
Needless to say I have cast the remainder of the tablets into the bin, and I am much relieved.

Don't be driven to distraction, people!

This morning the Mad Lady was on my bus again. This isn't the mad lady who befriended me and bought me a shirt with my flag on it (which I still don't have as I haven't seen her for a while and although she made me take down her phone number I have to admit I haven't used it!) no, this is the mad lady who burst into my office a few weeks ago, ranted for a few minutes then bid us all a good day and stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the entire wall. This lady is on my bus occasionally, and thankfully has never recognized me from that morning. This pleases me as I'm not really into awkward confrontations with people of doubtful mental health.
So this morning she is sitting on the bus with her back to everyone, her back hunched over as she stared out of the window and muttered to herself. She was making lots of cooing sounds too, like an owl, progressively getting louder and louder, not quite to the level of an emergency vehicle but not too far off. There was a man sitting near her who I recognize from his habit of hanging out at traffic lights begging from drivers and sitting on a crate (which he carries with him) when he gets tired. He must make a fairly decent living at it; his trainers were spotless and new looking, he was wearing clean clothes, can obviously afford to ride the bus, and his build is, how do I say this; well nourished! Anyway, this guy isn't quite the full ticket either, and even he was looking at the mad lady with a wary and bemused expression...(probably hoping she wouldn't compete with him at his favourite traffic light!).
I turned my music down so that I could hear her better in case she said anything entertaining or profound, and the only phrase I caught clearly was "People, don't be driven to distraction."
Actually, for a mad lady's rantings, I did think this made a surprising amount of sense.
How many of us get so caught up in our daily lives, working, paying bills, doing chores, that we do indeed get too distracted to appreciate what we have? How many of us are too impatient to wait 30 seconds for a video clip to load on Facebook or Youtube, so that we never see the tiny elephant, the smiling dog, the heartwarming act of kindness, the advert for an oh so important cause? How many of us don't listen to the partner or child who is trying to tell us about their day? How many of us fail to make an effort with something because we are too distracted by something else? How many of us fail to look at the stars because we are too distracted by TV? How many of us don't sign that petition online or donate money because we are too distracted by the advert for shoes next to it? Modern daily life is enough to drive most people to distraction, and yet at the same time we can all make the effort to simplify our lives and our surroundings so that we can find the time and the energy to appreciate our loved ones, our life, our planet.....
So today, I seriously think we should all take the advice of a Mad Lady: don't get driven to distraction people.

 

Bleugh!

I'm lucky enough to be pretty healthy, which is a bloody good job as I currently live in the US where a visit to a Doctor can cost you a pretty penny, hence I refuse to set foot anywhere near a clinic or hospital.
The only exceptions to my rule are if I have been involved in a plane crash or have been attacked by a shark or something, and simply MUST get medical attention or I may die, only then would I subject myself to the thousands of tests and appointments they smilingly insist you have (more than likely because the Doctor in question would very much like a new speedboat and wishes you to pay for it....).
However, my usual good health did take a bit of a pasting late last Sunday, and for the next couple of days I felt as rough as a badger's arse. Needless to say I actually stayed away from work for 2 whole days, can't remember the last time I did that apart from going on holiday (unlike a co-worker who shall remain nameless who has been off work because her dog died last Friday and in her own words she "is simply unable to cope with the grief". I'm in no way belittling her feelings of loss over a beloved pet, I just feel that she is overdoing the drama somewhat, and should be a damn sight more professional as she is actually Management Level and we have an Audit taking place at work at the moment. We all have different ways of coping with our own various problems, I just prefer to be a little more British.....stiff upper lip and all that.....).
So I have been at home for 2 whole days; no make up, no jewellery, no flowers in my hair, clad only in my pyjamas, mainly running back and forth between the bathroom and my bed. The dogs have been mightily confused, wondering who this unkempt puking creature is. Tiny Dog crept onto my lap, her big brown eyes full of confusion and concern, no doubt wondering why her Mistress had been replaced by this barfing Demon, while Whiney Dog was no doubt wondering if I would let her eat my puke as she thoroughly enjoys eating her own and had run out, having munched her way through what she had deposited on the lawn 5 minutes earlier. (The answer was an emphatic "No").
Today I am back at work, getting myself up to speed with the things I missed, and of course, finding a few minutes for a quick Blog. It would seem that the main excitement I missed was one of my colleagues sitting at my desk, kicking away the cardboard box I keep under there (that is actually my footrest as I am 4 foot 11 inches and cannot reach the floor with my feet) and promptly knocking the wires out of my computer with said box and causing everything to need rebooting.....
It's good to be back.
Today's photo is Tiny Dog Bindi, being so confused by me being home when I am normally at work that she put herself in her kennel (I normally put her in here while I am at work so she is not tempted to poo on the carpet; for some reason she will poo on the carpet when left unattended, but she will never poo in her kennel.)