Of Sharks, Dinosaurs And ?

There dinosaurs on the television earlier.  I’m m not sure what exactly Beloved was watching, I just noticed dinosaurs with tiny little arms and apparently several bony protrusions in its is dinosaur was colored yellow and purple and had what appeared to be feathers on its back legs.  Granted this was an artist’s interpretation of a dinosaur, but why it was on my television was a bit of a mystery.  Just not one I needed to actually solve.

However the little bit I saw made me rethink the four-footed one.  Not rethinking keeping her, oh heavens no not that!  But the past little bit we’ve been referring to her as a shark.  Basically since the week of non-stop shark shows, we’ve come to notice that our sweet little companion resembles an ambush attacking style of large, toothy sharks.

Now I’m thinking perhaps we were a bit quick on calling her a shark.  There appears to be a fair amount of an artist’s idea of a dinosaur in our four-footed companion.  There are days I wish she’d just get a little more in touch with her inner-sloth.  Not completely, but a bit.  Just enough that she’d settle down here and there.  But of course if she were to get in touch with her inner sloth I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be the slow part as much as the tree climbing part.  Maybe it’s better that she just stays as she is and we stop trying to compare her to other animals!


A Natural Growth Of Sorts or Guiding Name

I think my spiritual name or guiding name is she-who-waits-until-the-last-second-panics-like-crazy. My parents may have even known this before they gave me “every day” name. Perhaps they didn’t think it was fair to ask a young child to learn to print that all out, or maybe they realized that having a long name like that could create signature issues. Who knows.

Regardless of whether or not they bestowed me with the name, it is certainly an aspect of my life. When I was a child I always had a parent to ensure I did not leave things until the last hour let alone minute or second. There was to be calm and confidence that everything would be taken care of prior to the moment it was needed. I’m not sure if my parents were just that structured or decided they could not allow any more chaos into their lives than the stuff I brought with me on a daily basis.

It wasn’t until my teenage years when I gave in to my nature and left something until the last minute–making my bed. I know it’s odd, but I was preoccupied with something and left putting on clean sheets and tucking everything until I was getting ready to climb into unmade said bed. At which point for some unknown reason (probably that dreadful training my mother instilled in me to never sleep in a bed that wasn’t fully made) I made the bed completely, only to climb into it for the night. That was just the slippery slope.

University is where I mastered the leaving it until the last second technique. Handing in papers in with a second to spare before the deadline was common place for me. I took a weird sense of pride out of out waiting everyone else and still making the deadline. And it wasn’t just waiting to hand the paper in either. The paper was written very quickly and immediately handed in.
I figured by the time I was finished with school I would have outgrown this process.  Alas that hasn’t been the case.Which is why I spent the very moments hunting down my passport so I could get on a flight for a conference I am attending tomorrow. Yes I know, it’s almost irresponsible, but I swear if I plan things out far enough in advance and have checklists I will no doubt forget something. And it will be something important and something I need right away. So you see you cannot fight you nature and even if your name doesn’t actually represent your nature, people will still know. They will know from your actions and attitudes because those are things you cannot hide from the universe. Or you can blame having a fault guiding name.

My Woodstock Moment With Peanuts

You know how there are all those “fun” tests to take that tell you what Harry Potter character you are?  As part of a course, we had to take a test as to which Peanuts character you are.

Now obviously we can’t all be Lucy and someone has to be Charlie Brown of course.  And I won’t say I was aiming for either of those, but Woodstock? I’m not really are how the test decided I was a little yellow bird who basically doesn’t speak a language anyone can understand.  Well anyone other than a very mischievous beagle that is.

I could see being ranked as Lucy.  I like to get caught up in my passions which can lead me to be a bit forceful with opinions.  Okay so actually downright bossy at times.  And yes I can be the best of all crabby people, but I mean honestly if people would just listen to Lucy and I there would be no issue! 😉

And we’ve all been Charlie Brown.  We’ve all had someone pull the ball out as we are getting ready to kick it.  Some of us have experienced this more than others. But we keep trying, we keep trusting because we want to believe in the good in people.

I’ve  even been Linus once or twice, complete with a need for security and the innocent hope that if I believe enough magic is still around us.  Oh come on, you may not admit it to anyone else but you too, my friend, have a security blanket of sorts.  Maybe you too have waited for the Great Pumpkin and the Easter Beagle.  Maybe in your innocence you’ve missed the undying attention of another friend! 😉

Granted I’d be the first person to say that there is a fair amount of Snoopy in me.  Imagination with an interest in history and the ability to be side tracked by good food.  Granted I’ve never eaten dog food, cooked it yes by mistake, but eaten it never.  And I do have a certain sense of comfort about my abode.  As in I know where it is and I am happy with it.

You see I can relate to some of these characters and as I get older I am beginning to feel more and more like the teacher, complete with the lack of communicating with the kids. Come to think of it, that might be why I became Woodstock.


Old Houses and Lupus, Same Story

I’ve always had a thing for older homes.  I love the charm of old architecture, the whimsical flair of gingerbread trim and lines of columns.  I adore wide porches, peekaboo windows.  Let’s face it, I’m a sucker for old homes.

So when I get a whim to see what is on the market in terms of older homes it always is an adventure.  Sometimes there will be some little gem on the market, but mostly there are horror stories. Houses that just need to be loved back into their glory, but in order to do that a lot of hard work and elbow grease will be required.  And no doubt a fair amount of finances.

I’m always curious about the stories, the sights and what have you those houses have experienced.  The older the house the more historic things it may have seen.  And yes, the greater potential decay.

when the house needs some work done, it’s called character.  When the house needs a lot of work they say it has good bones or such.  And just my luck, I’m a sucker for ones that require lots ofwork,  in complete work.  As in its not going to be mine because it just doesn’t make sense to do so.

perhaps I relate to those fixer-ups because I, myself, need a great deal of work.  And then again, maybe I’m just a soft-touch for old things!

Talking In Twists And Turns

I told Beloved I wanted a house with charm and character, therefore an older house. He shared this with the estate agent who promptly decided this meant houses that are basically deconstructing through the passage of time. In other words, I don’t mind a house that is completely falling, at least not according to the agent.

Thankfully Beloved knew better. It isn’t that I was looking for lipstick on a pig that made the pig become something else. Let’s face it lipstick on a pig is just a pig wearing lipstick and making you wonder why and who decided lipstick should be on a pig. Let us not even consider what was involved in getting the lipstick on the poor pig. 😉

Beloved understood what I wanted, sort of. To him character meant some wear and tear. Charm meant bits that could never be scrubbed clean. Put charm and character together and it means permanent house guests in the form of spiders and mild and such.

I wasn’t looking for sparkling fresh white, but I’d rather not have damp and mold! I guess what I wanted was a pig I. Good shape. A nice, clean, not too damaged, kind of pig. We could put our own lipstick on the pig…

Beloved didn’t worry too much about the pig, he was more concerned about the “garden”. I immediately thought veggies and such. He meant a back yard. He wanted to have a “putter” in the “garden”. This translates to having a yard to do things in and with.

So basically I worried about the pig and he worried about the pig’s pen! And the poor estate agent had no clue what either of us wanted.

Sure we were all speaking the same language, but we were speaking in broad terms when each of us had a very specific thing on mind. Another way to look at it is to consider we were all discussing apples, but each of us had a different idea of what type apple the others were thinking about.

Some of you may think this is due to lack of clarity and there is a dash of truth to that. But there is also a bit of a language barrier in that our experiences help to shape our ideas and thus create the barrier.

While normally I love the way communication twists and turns things, when trying to accomplish something, I’m not as much a fan. Now I must see to tea, and not the drink alone either! 😉