The crazy chook with insane eyes

Quote FOR FAST ACTING RELIEF TRY SLOWING DOWNDo you know that crazy-confused feeling where you run around in circles like a chicken with it’s head cut off chasing its tail?  See how confused I am!  You know what I mean, right?  And when the episode has ended you wonder what just happened?  This is me.  Really, it is.  It has begun.

My first episode happened not long ago.  I was home alone, grateful now that my sons and husband were not witnesses to my madness.  It all started with the ringing of my cell phone, or mobile phone (as we call them in the Southern Hemisphere).

Gazing at my aging reflection in the bathroom mirror I heard the familiar tinkling of my cell phone in my bedroom.  I walked to my bedside table and reached out – but the phone was not there.  It started ringing in the bathroom.  “I must be going insane” I chuckled to myself, returning to the bathroom and walking a bit faster this time.  I checked the vanity.  No cell.  Feeling only slightly perplexed I heard the familiar ring in my bedroom once again.  For a split second I wondered what eerie force was at work in my home as I hurried back through my walk-in robes into my bedroom.  I scanned the bed this time.  No phone.  Is there a pesky poltergeist at play here?

Waiting with anticipation for the next ring I honed my mother-ears towards the next ringing to gauge the latitude and longitude of said phone.  {ring ring}  My head spun around, eyes focussed.  “It’s in my robes” I deducted and I lunged towards the jacket I’d worn yesterday squeezing the pockets.  But alas, within a few seconds, I heard it ringing behind me again.  Aha!  I’d finally worked it out.  My phone was in the study, which is opposite my bedroom.

I stomped to the study, quite fed up with myself, eyes crazily scanning the desk, around the computer, under papers, searching.   {ring ring}  This can’t be happening.  It was behind me again, back in my bedroom!  I ran back now, knowing the phone would flick to voicemail soon.  Moisture was gathering on my brow and my frustration thermometer was rising.  My head snapped to the right, eyes honing on the sound as I heard it ringing in the study again. “WHAT’S HAPPENING?” my internal voice screamed to myself.  What strange powers has my cell suddenly accumulated that it can disappear and reappear at will?

But this time I stopped.  I stood still.  I closed my eyes and bowed my head in utter concentration.  And I listened.  It was like slooooooow motion.  My breathing calmed and my heartbeat slowed.  {rrriiinnnggg rrriiinnnggg}

I heard it.  I felt the vibration.

In the back pocket of my jeans.

I just missed the call.  I sat on my bed.  Home alone and confused.  Was this the beginning of the loss of my mind?  I was almost 50 at the time.  Was I over the top of the hill descending down the other side into middle-age and menopause … and madness?  Is this menopause?  I hoped so, because if not, it just might be the beginning of insanity or dementia.
©2015 CEW

Reposted from my old blog site

 

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Is 50 too old to get my first tattoo?

Highly tattood lady in red bikini cartoonI want a tattoo! Not because I’m having a mid-life crisis and I’ve just turned 50, but because I’m arty and creative and … well … I just want one.

I wanted to get one in my 30s, but because of my work tattoos were deemed “inappropriate”. But times have changed. My bosses would have had a fit if I came to work “inked”. The boss I have now would be okay with it. {To him, how I work is more important than how I look. Thats why he gave the 49 year old plump woman a job over the younger hotties. ‘Nuff said!}

So I’m thinking of getting my 1st tattoo to mark – literally – my half century. My 20 year old son is ecstatic because he is tattooed and insists on coming with me. My 23 year old son not so much because he is quite conservative and thinks I will “chicken out”. And my husband will probably have an apoplectic seizure. He is “El Capitano” of the conservatives.

The morning he woke up and pointed out the massive boil on my nostril, only to have his eyes re-focus and realise it was a silver stud that I got when he was out the previous night nearly did the poor man in. I just smiled that morning and gave him my cocky face. That was 18 years ago. Now this tattoo is going to make an appearance within the next few months but he doesn’t think I will actually go through with it either.

“There is something lovely about turning the big 5 0. I’m not concerned about what people think any more. I’m {sigh} content.”

So I’m thinking of getting a beautiful old round clock face tattooed on my upper arm, close to the shoulder. Instead of having two hands on it, I will have four. Two times will be displayed depicting the moments that both of my sons were born. The inner working of the clock will be showing and the outside of the clock will have my two sons names engraved on it. Just a thought at this time, but I want my first tattoo to mean something special and timeless {excuse the pun} to me.

I must admit I am a little scared. Will I regret it? Maybe. But you only live once. Is 50 too old to get my first tattoo? Am I having a mid-lift crisis? No idea.

Tattooist appointment soon! Or, maybe I will get a dragon, or a sword with a big jewel in it, or a decorative cross, or ………
© 2015 CEW

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