The stunning males of the animal kingdom

beautiful blue wren on window sill“Tap, tap, tap.”   I listened intently to ascertain where the sound was coming from, only to realise it was on my bedroom window. {Was Husband Romeo trying to get my attention?}  I sneakily peaked through the curtains and saw two little birds hopping around and merrily pecking at their reflections. I quietly opened my curtains wide and sat on the carpet, watching them for ages.  And with my tinted windows, they couldn’t see me at all!

I had no idea what species they were, and after a little investigating, discovered they were “blue wrens”; and would you believe that the stunning blue one was the male! {What the?}

I looked at these gorgeous birds and thought my facts must be wrong.  The pretty one would be female, surely.  Nope.  It was definitely the male.  And I realised that there are other animals where the male is the strikingly attractive, spunky, gorgeous piece of work, and the female … well … just isn’t!  At least I’m not the only plain looking female on the planet.   {Poor bloody animals.}  Is this God’s sense of humour at work?  If so, then I don’t think He’s funny at all.

fancy peacockLook at the peacock, for example, compared to the peahen (yes, a female peacock is called a peahen).

The male is all electric stunning colour with co-ordinated feathers. And he wiggles and waves his fail feathers to catch a female’s attention.  Bleedin’ show off.  He’s a chick magnet and he knows it.

peahen with peachicksThe female is … well … not really that memorable. Mind you, this poor hen is probably exhausted from looking after her brood of “peachicks” all day, while her other half is busy preening himself into immaculate glory.

Then there’s lions.

majestic lionOhhh laa laaaaaa, check out the majestic beauty of this powerful male beast!  He has an incredible coiffed hair do.  And he knows it too.  Look at his proud “I know I’m beautiful” look.  He wakes up with hair like this.  It’s his bed hair!  I wake up in the morning with a witchy-poo-fuzz-ball that sticks up on one side, wraps around my head to be plastered to the side of my face and is accessorised with a drool clump.

lionessCompare now the lioness. Oh hooray, I do have something in common with her.  Bloody chin hairs!  I know how this poor mumma feels.

{Long drawn out sign …}

So back to my beautiful blue wrens …

They have been pecking at my window every day for a few weeks now. Husband and Sons look out for them, and we can get very close without them knowing we are only a few inches away.  They must have their nest in a tree on my front lawn.

Unfortunately … we are not the only ones who have noticed them!

cat looking at birds on window sill

© 2015 CEW

 

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Why Is There So Much Hatred?

Now folks, here’s a post that’s worth reading every word of. I don’t think this is just relevant to America, but to Australia and the rest of the world. Whether you agree or not, it’s a great post!

I reblogged this post because …
https://catinthecactus.com/2015/09/22/how-to-pay-the-reblog-blessing-forward/

Miles of Life Lines

My Facebook feed is filled with such animosity these days. Did you know we’ve been living among Syrian refugees these past months? I sure didn’t. I mean, I’d heard the words uttered on various outlets, but I wasn’t aware it was actually happening. This is my point. They came, they settled, they lived. And then 1% of the world committed an act of terror and suddenly it’s out with the innocents! If you feel my disdain for America and don’t feel like reading further, this is your exit point. If you disagree with me and think they should “stay in their country and deal with it”, you sit your butt in that dang chair and read every dang word I’m about to type because I’m going to make your inhumane stupidity very damn clear. This is my animosity.

  1. From the Christian point of view, refusing hospitality to those in need…

View original post 850 more words

Worst moment – when you realise it’s his ball!

Squirrel in the snowWhat do you do when your hand accidentally contracts around your colleague’s testicle?  That was the dreadful predicament I found myself in recently.  I probably shouldn’t talk about this horrific workplace accident, and especially not blog about it, but I can’t help myself.  I just can’t take myself seriously.  What’s the use of having these ridiculous moments if I can’t share them with the world!

I related this story at a family dinner because I needed to spill my guts and confess my accidental actions.  But instead of my family being horrified, some of them were choking on their food and roaring with laughter.  Here’s what happened.

I’m a short 5 ft 2 1/2″.  Maybe I’m a tall midget.  Or a short giant.  Whatever.  Anyway, my colleague is over 6 foot tall I’d guess.  I was on a mission to get to the photocopier quickly, and in full throttle mode I power walked around a corner.  With hands swinging like a little marching girl I turned the corner and bumped so hard into my colleague that my face actually bounced off his chest.  I think I even got a taste of his navy blue jumper.  In fact, my face hit and bounced back so hard that we both “gripped” our hands instinctively.

Luckily for me, his hands jumped upwards and gripped onto my upper arms and stopped me landing flat on my back on the floor – where I probably would have knocked myself senseless on the reception desk.

Unfortunately for him, my right hand gripped in shock, and for a split second I wondered what the ‘ball’ was that I was tightly gripping onto.  Then I knew!  In my head in that split second I realised it was the solid outline of his testicle.  {In Australia, this action is called a “squirrel grip”.} 

I let go.  You could say I literally dropped the ball.  We stood stock still.  He looked down into my face, stunned, his eyes so big I could see completely around his pupils.  And I was looking up with my mouth agape.  I didn’t know what to say.  Neither did he.  I needed to break the ice … and quickly … so I blurted out “Just so you know, that’s not the worst thing I’ve done in my life!”  Then I quickly turned and scurried away.  Behind me, I suddenly heard his bellowing laughter.  I was too embarrassed to ask what was so funny and neither of us have ever mentioned the encounter since.

Luckily for me, my colleagues all know I have an out of control sense of humour, especially if I’m on a sugar high.  Maybe this story will come out at our next social function.  Then again … maybe not.

© 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

I caught fire in the kitchen

blue flame on gas hot plateSo I’m a kitchen disaster. It’s not my fault that my kitchen hates me!  Some old crone must have cursed it. If the old adage is true that you can win a man’s heart through his stomach – mine would have run for the hills years ago, or be dead by now. Which would have saved him from the next few decades of culinary mayhem.

I’ve cooked a sausage casserole that looked so X-rated that my boys refused to eat it, and when I posted the photo of it on social media, Facebook reminded me not topromote sexual enhancement products as it was against their policy.  I’ve cooked a lemon meringue pie that tasted like ear wax, gingerbread men that my children spat over the back fence to the neighbour’s dog which fed the mutt for years, and steaks that damaged teeth and fattened up the dentist’s wallet!  And that’s just to name a few.

Unfortunately I’ve also started two fires in my home. I wish I could say I haven’t caused psychological and emotional fear in my husband and boys {sigh}, but that would be a lie.

The first fire I started was when making a cup of tea for my husband with our new kettle that sat on the gas hotplates. The water had boiled and the kettle was whistling away its new tune.  I reached over to pick up the kettle – but didn’t turn the flame off.  My not-so-sexy too-big flannelette pyjamas had dangly sleeves that touched the flame.  I watched a pretty blue flame jump onto my arm and I was hypnotically mesmerised as I stared at the flame running up the length of my sleeve to my shoulder. Then I realised I was on fire! I screamed and Husband came running into the kitchen.  I did the “drop and roll” manoeuvre in an attempt to put myself out.

He found me horizontal on the cold tiled floor, thrashing around, flapping my hands all over my body. He couldn’t see the flames, just heard me screaming that I was on fire!   He just stood there, wondering what the hell I was doing with a perplexed eyebrow look.  He thought I was doing some sort of german-zombie slap-dance. “Why didn’t you help me” I squawked?  He was stunned silent.  Obviously I impressed him with my Australia’s-Got-Talent kitchen performance.

I put myself out and noticed that my floral pyjamas had brown patches up the sleeve where the fire had caught.

Husband looked at me and just rolled his boggle eyes.

The 2nd fire was because I didn’t know I was supposed to pierce sausage skins before I cooked them. (Oh no, bleedin’ sausages again – no wonder he’s banned me for life from ever cooking them.) Anyway, I put sausages under our grill and turned it onto high.  Part way through the cook I could hear a “whooshing” and “sizzling” sound, so I bent and peeked inside the grill.  It was so pretty!  My sausages were bulging as they heated up, they swelled and then the top burst like a balloon and an arrow of fat squirted straight up onto the electric elements.  I kept watching – then the fat caught on fire! Oh hell – the grill was on fire! I screamed, and Husband ran in and saved the day.

Husband looked at me, didn’t say a word, and rolled his eyes. Again.  If he rolls his barney-googles at me one more time I will poke the bloody brown orbs out with an ice-pick!

At least the house didn’t burn down. He could have at least been grateful for that small miracle.

© 2015 CEW

When heroes have to be rescued by heroes

A superheroA true story about two brothers and their idiotic plan to attract girls … 

Two young men (brothers – and NOT my sons!) were on the beach, conspiring about how to attract girls.  They came up with a plan; an allegedly brilliant and fool-proof scene they would enact, that would have the young women flocking to them.  I will call these brothers M and B.

The plan:  B was going to swim out quite far and pretend to get into difficulties.  He would call out to his older brother, M, to help him.  Both of them would be quite loud to attract the attention of the girls around them, and when they had an audience, M would power-swim out, save his brother and drag him back to shore.  Who could resist a real hero?  The rest would be history, as they say.

How the scene “actually” played out:

B swam out into the beautiful sparkling azure waters of the bay; and when he thought he was far enough away from the shore, turned and called out to his brother for help.  M made a point of calling back and said he would be there soon.  When M noticed some of the bikini-clad girls watching, like a superhero’s call to action he puffed out his bronzed Mediterranean chest, jogged into the water and dived into an oncoming wave.  Unfortunately, M wasn’t very coordinated.  When he saw the wave, he attempted to dive under it (like he envisioned), but instead belly-flopped onto the top of the wave.  He began his “power-swim” slightly winded.

As M was free-styling out, he had no idea that his uncoordination meant he didn’t quite “look” the part.  Most free-stylers can coordinate their arm strokes and breathing.  M couldn’t.  So he had to free-style towards B with his head flicking from side to side as he breathed above the water.  His mop of pitch-black hair spun from side to side and looked like a long haired dog shaking itself after a drenching.  After a few more awkward strokes, M began cursing in his head that his “bloody brother” had swum out too far!

B was watching his brother’s head swivel from side to side, water particles spraying wildly.  And his not so graceful freestyle-arms were not gliding through the water at all like they were supposed to, but were now splashing through the water, causing him to look like an uncoordinated imbecile.  B was cursing under his breath now, because he was getting bloomin’ well tired of treading water.  How much longer would he have to wait for his idiot brother to get there?

M exhausted himself before he got to his brother.  He was only at the half way point when he realised he was starting to take mouthfuls of water in; and as much as his short Maltese legs were kicking at a hundred miles an hour under the water like duck’s paddles, he seemed NOT to be getting closer to B.

B was in real difficulty now too.  Bloody M wasn’t going to make it at all!

The girls on the shore were now pointing at them both and yelling something as the crisis began to unfold.

Luckily for the brothers, there were “real” life guards on the shore.  Within minutes, both M and B were rescued by the real heroes, and as they say, the rest is history.

 © 2015 CEW

Originally posted on my old blog site

 

Dodge a regret and say the words

A great post from “dfolstad58” and a reminder to tell someone you love them before it’s too late. I Reblogged this post because …
https://catinthecactus.com/2015/09/22/how-to-pay-the-reblog-blessing-forward/

Life and Random Thinking

I had had a non event day, nothing memorable, until I got the news.

eyeball,black and whiteA close friend had gone down to the inlet to swim in the ocean I knew and on the evening news the radio announced a drowning at that beach.

Dread gripped my heart, and I tried to phone and confirm if it was my friend, Mark.  I left messages, and my heart felt dry like paper.

Hours passed and I started to realize all the conversations I still wanted to have with him, especially one conversation where I told him he was like a younger brother to me, and I really liked to spend time with him, and that I loved him.

I felt real regret that I had never had that conversation.

Then the phone rang, it was him, and he was fine. Relief washed over me like a wave as I took a deep breath…

View original post 127 more words

My first big, bold and beautiful tattoo!

beautiful tattoo of rose and clock

I did it!  MY FIRST TATTOO

Big, bold and utterly beautiful … I love it!

What it means to me …

  • The clock represents time … the most beautiful “times” in my life, when my two sons were born
  • There are 4 hands, representing the times my boys were born, 4.32 and 11.40
  • The one red rose represents one family, and “Love”
  • I have my sons names tattooed on each side of the clock {which I Photoshopped out to protect them, as they would hate me broadcasting their names on my blog}

Did it hurt?  Oh yeah, it hurt like hell

Would I do it again?  You betcha

Where’s my husband’s name?  Well, if he ever trades me in for a younger model I don’t want his name on me!  Okay, I will get his name somewhere … soon

SO WHAT DO YOU THINK?

© 2015 CEW