Wrinkles

I have a few of them.  Not as many as I will have in the future, way more than I had in the past, but I have them.  Kind of like a bedsheet that somehow gets extra creases in it when you aren't looking.  It starts out all nice and smooth and flat, not a wrinkle to be seen.  Crisp.  But then somehow (and it's one of those mysteries in life like dirt between your toes in the middle of winter when you've been wearing socks and shoes and everything outside is covered with the white stuff) there are wrinkles in the sheets.  Sometimes those wrinkles aren't very comfortable when you sleep on them and leave crease marks on your skin.  Sometimes, like at the bottom of the bed, you don't even notice them.  They are just there.  My wrinkles are kind of like that.  Some of them come from time (like the ones on the sheet), some have come from something hard in life, and some are in places like my bottom, you can't see them, but I know they're there.  I love it when people try to put a good spin on things.  The wrinkles around your eyes aren't wrinkles, their laugh lines (I must have been laughing really hard for a long time to get those ones) or the saggy wrinkles on your gut - they aren't wrinkles, their honour marks from having children (so what's a guy's excuse?).  When everything starts to sag and bag no matter how hard you try to make it do otherwise, what's a few wrinkles between friends?  Besides, since time can wrinkle (remember the incredible shrinking and expanding time theory), why can't a person do the same.  At least that's my story for my wrinkles (too bad time doesn't travel backwards as well, then maybe I'd be back to my fresh sheet form) and I'm sticking to it.

Idiots and the Stupor Bowl

Ok.  So I misread the headlines.  One was supposedly about the "Idol tradition" (since when did having someone from the American Idol become a tradition?) and the other was about the Super Bowl.  Hmmmm.  Maybe misreading the headlines wasn't so bad after all.  Since there is so much hoopla over the American football phenomena (phenomenom?) called the Super Bowl (is that the same as an ultragigantic cereal bowl full of froot loops?) there are probably going to be quite a few idiots there idling around, hoping something truly incredible might actually happen.  Yeah.  Right.  Watching American Football is much like watching clothes in a dryer or paint drying on a wall.  Enough to put a person in a stupor.  The worst part is, that if a person lives in or anywhere near the U.S., or has access to any one of the American stations on satelite or cable, one can't escape it.  It's usually on pretty much every channel there is - anywhere.  Which is why I avoid TV, especially on superbowl day.  Then again, I have no idea who the teams are, who the players are or why I should care.  Canadian football I at least know the teams, though I'd be hard pressed to give you any names of any current players, nor do I really care.  I could probably recognize more cricket players from South Africa or Australia or New Zealand for that matter, and a fair number of Soccer - er, football - players from most teams anywhere.  Why would I want to?  I don't.  However, many of my students do, so I at least try to be able to recognize names.  As for American Idol, I quit watching that after the first year or two.  Same old, same old.  Just like the football game.  HoHum.  Until next time when something vaguely interesting or exciting crops up, like how many medals some countries did or didn't get at the winter olympics.

Painted Cats

My sister sent me an email of photos of painted cats.  No, not paintings of  cats, or photos of cats painting (and I've seen some of both), but cats who have literally been "painted".  Kind of like an artistic dye job for kitties.  Some of the "art" work was quite interesting - like the plaid cat, and some of it was down right bizarre (one poor kittie had Charlie Chaplin painted on it's bum), but what really got to me was the price.  Each time the poor kittie had to be painted - or repainted - it cost $15,000, and of course it would have to be done repeatedly every three months because fur, like hair grows out.  That comes out to the equivalent of $60000. 
Now I don't know about you, but I can think of hundreds of ways to spend that same amount of money and none of the ways have anything to do with painting a kitty - mine or anyone elses.  For that same 60000 I could retire quite nicely and do little for two full years, or I could pay a large chunk of money on a house someplace warm, or I could give a chunk of change to my sons to help them in whatever they wanted to do career wise, or I could make a very large donation to any one of a number of very worthy health related charities, or I could sponsor a shelter for animals and provide food for a couple of years, since we are talking about furbabies.  Then again, I could sponsor a child that has little and getting less every hour of every day in one of so many countries in the world.
All I can say is that there are so many more ways of spending that money that would benefit others, that I can't understand why anyone would want to paint their kitties in such weird and almost creepy ways.  Besides - I wonder if any of them actually asked their cats if they wanted a dye job or not, and what did they do to the poor things to get them to stay still long enough to have it all done.  No self respecting cat I've ever met would willingly go along with this.  It just wouldn't happen.  They must love their humans very much to be willing to indulge those same humans in this activity.  It's the only logical solution I can come up with.  Until next time.

Dreams

Dreams are funny things (funny as in odd, not haha).  It's hard to know where they come from or why we dream about particular things.  Sometimes they are down right scary - you know, nightmares that wake you up because they are so real and so freaky.  Those kinds are far worse than any horror show Hollywood could dream up - no pun intended.  Then there are the kinds that make you go "Say what?!" when you wake up.  No connection to anything and so out there that you're not sure what planet they came from or what you were on when you went to bed, but it was definitely strange.  We all dream, and every once in a while, we have one that makes us laugh out loud.  I've had one or two of those, and when I wake up I'm still chuckling.  When I go to retell it, it somehow sounds even more bizarre and funny (haha) than it did when I was actually having it.  I once dreamt that aliens had come to earth and two of them were looking for their space craft in one of many hay stacks in a farmer's field.  Not a needle in a haystack, a space ship.  Why this was so funny, I'm not sure.  It may have been because the aliens looked like a cross between a pig and an octopus and were having an arguement over which haystack the ship was in.  No matter.  It struck me as funny, which is not usually a common occurance.  My youngest son asked me what I was laughing at, and how could I be laughing when I was asleep, until I explained - then he just looked at me like I was an alien.
I wasn't laughing the other day over a dream though.  I was, for some reason only my subconscious knows, dreaming about a lion, and the only one it would behave for (as in not eating) was me.  Why this was so, I have no idea, and I'm sure there is some psych major out there who would have a field day analyzing that dream, but there it was.  A very large, male lion, and I was scratching it behind the ears as if it was a small, domestic cat.  Can anyone say "here kitty, kitty, kitty"? 

Licorice

Things a person misses from home come as a surprise to those of us living overseas.  It's not always the big ticket items either.  For example, I was talking to a fellow expat at a hotel in London, and her cousin asked her to bring Kraft Dinner (Macaroni and Cheese dinner for all those Americans reading this) because he couldn't get it in London (actually a friend of mine found a store that sells stuff from Canada, the U.S. and Australia so there may be Kraft Dinner there afterall).  The irony is that I can get it in India for some bizarre reason.  Go figure.  Anyway, in conversations I have with others it's funny things like KD that get to us.  Licorice is another.  Not all countries have the same kind of licorice, or what passes for licorice in that place.  Back home Twizzlers - red and black - are the kind of licorice I'm used to and will go a little nuts over when I'm home.  That and Dairy Queen anything.  Nor is junk food like KFC or McDonald's the same everywhere.  Here, they like lots of hot spices well integrated into their chicken at KFC, so when you think you are getting a regular KFC, you'll find out not all chicken is created equal.  Nor is McDonald's.  The McD's in England is not the same as the McD's in the Middle East, or India, or Asia, or even Central and South America, though one would expect it to be pretty consistent.  The only thing consistent is that it still all tastes like cardboard - good cardboard if you have any cravings at all, but cardboard none the less.  Beef burgers might be on one countries menu, but not on another and you can be pretty sure that in countries where pigs are considered a major no-no that there will be no ham and eggers of any kind.  Candy is another item that isn't the same everywhere and much of the candy served in many parts of the world (or what that place considers to be candy) is not anywhere close to what I consider candy (not that it's bad, just that I have preconceived notions of what constitutes candy).  True, some companies have their products everywhere and those are pretty consistent if they are imported.  Toblerone, Cadbury's and Neilson's chocolates are the same no matter where you buy them, but other candies aren't so fortunate.  It becomes a bit of a guessing game and definitely an adventure for jaded tastebuds - not always pleasant, but certainly a challenge.  Sigh.  Back to food again.  Until next time.

Froof

Don't you just love that word?  It covers so much and yet says so little.  I occasionally check out the fashion hits and misses on msn, just to see what kind of get-ups so many of the "stars" have on.  Some are quite nice and often quite tasteful (though on me they'd probably look ... let's not go there).  Some are ok, but have way too much froofiness.  You know, too many ruffles, too much fluff and feathers, too many bows and thingies that we're not really sure what they are but they're there, in bunches.  I don't know how or why some people think this is fashionable, or even remotely tasteful.  Personally, I think that if it can't be worn shopping for groceries, or running into a drugstore for - pantihose, then it shouldn't be worn in public, unless of course you are going to a grad and it's the latest style in grad dresses, though I can't somehow see any teen queen I know wear any of the outfits.  Some of the outfits are so way over the top they'd be too much even for something as auspicious as halloween. 
I was listening to my students discuss the recent Grammy's and some of the "styles".  Most of them agreed that there were too many wearing truly bizarre outfits and they really didn't get what the point was.  Not even for the singers they liked.  Music taste may vary (some like country, some don't, some like rock, some don't), but when it comes to fashion and style, boys and girls alike agreed that some outfits just should not be worn - by anybody.  Until next time.

February

Dang!  Missed the last day of January in what felt like the longest month ever.  It's that time warp thingie again.  Now it's February, the shortest month of the year and it will probably either feel even longer than January or go by so fast it will feel like it didn't exist.  Kind of makes a person feel really sorry for those born in a leap year.  Not only do you not get to have a birthday party three out of every four years, but when it does happen the month has gone by so quickly they don't really get to savour the day.  The irony is that if you only have a birthday every fourth year, you miss out on all those cool gifts all your friends and family get every year.  Kind of like being born on a major religious holiday like Christmas.  You only get one gift, so it's either a christmas present or a birthday present, but not both. 
Which brings us to February, the month of llllllooooovvvveee - or something.  I have always thought it was odd that we only seem to celebrate the idea of love once a year on an arbitrary date set by someone someplace a long time ago.  Why not celebrate it all year long?  I can take chocolates, flowers and any other tokens of love anytime, not just on one day of one month.  It doesn't even have to be a gift, just a night off from whatever is going on, unless it falls on a day off, then I'd take a whole day's worth of togetherness time and play hookie from whatever chores that have to be done to spend time with those I love.  Sometimes, a person doesn't really have to do much to show their love.  Small gestures of kindness, like doing the dishes for a change or taking out the garbage without having to nag at the individual in question works just as well.
I have friends who have been married for nearly forty years, and they have a wonderful relationship.  Very loving, but not in the mushy hearts and flowers kind of love.  Loving in the, "I'll do for you and you do for me and we do for each other" kind of love that makes it all worthwhile.  My hat is off to those who have made that deep kind of commitment and show their love in so many small ways.
On the other hand.  I'll take a nice box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers.  Even a card would be nice, but not necessary.  Or flowers either.  Just a nice, large box of decadent chocolates will do.  Until next time.