Not much sun...

but the Lothlorien is all around us...

Clarification

You don't need a parachute to go skydiving. You only need a parachute if you want to go skydiving twice.

Fall

Fall has cometh. Dark skies, intermittent rain. The leaves are turning and I should not go anywhere without my camera, because every once in a while, on an anonymous corner, a tree will stand out in an explosion of gold or red, so bright, so perfect that it seemed to have been planted by elves overnight.

Every morning, before I get up, I get a ten-minute cuddling session from Chinook. He shows up in full purr when my alarm clock rings, so I press snooze and we settled down for some serious petting, kissing, purring, curled up in my neck like the little baby he still is. It starts a day well.

My feelings got hurt recently, and as usual when that happens, I’m longing for affection from the rest of my circle. Virtual hugs are welcome. I wouldn’t even mind a burro kiss or two.

By the way, I found a cure for insomnia. Recently I would wake up around 4 or 5 am and be unable to go back to sleep. So I decided to take advantage of that and go running at those early hours, to start the day well. I laid out my clothes and prepared my Ipod.

I’ve been sleeping like a baby ever since! LOL!

(Photo credits unknown)

Douce France, cher pays de mon enfance...

I was in training yesterday. It was a one-day class called: “International Etiquette”. It included lunch in an uppity restaurant as part of the training.

We basically learned the minimum of good manners, with attention to North-American etiquette versus European. We learned how to eat with an Ambassador and not commit some gross blunder.
Having grown in Europe, where good manners are very important, and with parents for whom they were mandatory, I can’t say that I learn a lot of NEW things, but it was a solid review of stuff I had not seen, nor really practiced, in a long time.

The reason I was taking this training, in case you wonder, is because we often receive VIPs, at work, Canadian but occasionally Russian, Japanese, Chinese, American or European... Mastering good manners helps feeling confident with completely different cultures.

The teacher was a dumpy and unglamorous French-Canadian older woman, much to my surprise. But she had traveled a lot and she knew her stuff. She stated, matter-of-factly, that in France, and elsewhere in Europe, you WILL be scrutinized, evaluated, judged and catalogued on the sole basis of your manners.

I was the first time I heard somebody stating the essential reason I will not live in France again.

The French are so uppity about manners and good breeding. Yet put them in the streets, or in a crowd. Do you think they will good-naturedly and orderly line-up while waiting for something, like North American do? No, they will press and push in chaos, each man for himself to try and get first.
Will they be courteous and mindful of others in places like airplanes? No, they will tend to be rude and selfish and totally self-centered.
Will they avoid littering, out of respect for others? Just go to France...

So I am sorry but good manners extend beyond a dining table and a way to shake hands. And the French don’t have it. So I will not live in a society where I will be judged, and harshly so, on these superficial criteria instead of on what really matters, the person I really am.

And this, folks, is why I although I miss France like crazy sometimes, I will not go back to live there. And am I passing a judgement on the French? You bet! And does it matter? Not one iota, thankfully!

A Real Man

A real man is a woman's best friend. He will
never stand her up and never let her down.
He will reassure her when she feels insecure
and comfort her after a bad day.

He will inspire her to do things she never
thought she could do; to live without fear
and forget regret. He will enable her to
express her deepest emotions and give in to
her most intimate desires. He will make sure
she always feels as though she's the most
beautiful woman in the room and will enable
her to be the most confident, sexy,
seductive, and invincible.

No wait... sorry... I'm thinking of wine.

It's wine that does all that.......Never mind.

And we could be heroes, just for one day...

Today was a very exciting day. Today we received the visit, at the office, of two men I'm more in awe of, and star-struck about than I would be of Brad Pitt and Bono visiting. Everybody is in awe of them so a lot of people wanted to grab a word, especially the ladies because these two are absolute eye candy. They are treated like EIP as in EXTREMELY Important Personalities. Yet they remain completely simple and down to earth and approachable. And that's not the least of the things I admire about them. They're in their thirties, they have physical courage, impossibly bright minds and a scope of skills and experiences that defy the imagination. They impress THE HELL out of me.

Because I will not reveal where I work on this blog, I cannot reveal their identities. I could probably put up a picture of them and nobody would know who they are. Only people in that specific field do. But of the hundreds of people at the office, and even though they are shepherded and marched and timed to the minute, I did get a chance to shake their hands and say a few words, and they remembered me from last year, when I had met them for the first time.

So I'm floating on a cloud.

I'm usually never star-struck by anybody, even celebrities. I don't do hero worship. In fact, that's how I met them in the first place. While everybody was treating them like sacred china, I just went and talked to them as to the normal people that they are.

But they sure made my day.

Blue

What's on my fridge

- Art by Karl Larsson, because I love his work.
- A hand written note from my brother last time he was here for Christmas, telling me there's turkey in the fridge.
- A postcard from Marie, picture of Cape Town, in my country-in-law.
- Pretty magnets.
- Pictures of my departed cats, so it feels they're still around with us.

- And of course, an old painting I like from my son.

Monsieur Chinook, caught in the act of killing the bed...

The Truth About the French

Read a good one yesterday...

Why do French people eat snails?

Because they don't like fast-food.

Back To School!

Today, for the first time in his academic life, my son will step into a classroom that’s geared up for HIS needs, with teatchers who are specialized in his way to see the world. How huge is that? HUGE.
My son has fiercely hated school from the first time he ever stepped into a classroom. Will he still hate it as much in specialized education? Time will tell. I’m very eager to see what kind of a difference it will make.

In the meantime:
I dreamed of blood.
My friend Linda is seeing turtles.
My friend J will wear a top hat today.
The suffocating heatwave is on ‘till Saturday.
Today is September 1st.
On every square inch of floor in my house, there’s a cat stretched out complaining: ”Boy, it’s hot!” Even Chinook The Terrible is slowing down on ambush attacks. It is simply too hot to fight.

Have a good one everybody!

Thought of the day

"To err is human, to purr is feline." Robert Byrne

Maaaa, he's done it again!

Wow. When I take a picture of Rockport's Front Beach, it looks like this:



When my brother takes a picture of Rockport's Front Beach, it looks like this:


(See it bigger by clicking on it). Copyright Vincent Mounier 2010

And this, my dears, is the difference between an amateur and a Photographer.

My family

This is my family. How do we know it's my family? Easy. Four people have a book in their hands.

In my family, we read. And when we're not reading, we take pictures of each other taking pictures.




Lots of books. Lots of pictures.

Then we blog about it.

A Fix of Ocean

Contrary to appearances, I am alive and kicking... just came back from a few days by the ocean in New England. Will blog more soon...

A Happy Birthday!

Today, one of my dearest friends turns 42. So I printed 8 copies of this sign:



And I taped them in all the windows, windshield and rear window of his van. Nice and bright where everywhere could see them. All day.

I hope he appreciates how much I care about his safety... I'm just one of those very caring persons.

It's a blueberry kind of day

A friend has generously given me two huge bowls of the most delicious blueberries on earth. Loukhi has confirmed they were good. Oh where is my sister-in-law? She would do all kinds of scrumptious miracles with those. Me... well, I just eat them. C'est délicieux et nutritif, moi personnellement je trouve. (Last sentence is a wink to my brother)





Meanwhile, Chinook is still very busy being cute.

The business of being cute

On doing nothing

Aaah... vacations... farniente... I leisurely sip my coffee... then all I have to do is feed the cats, change their water, do the dishes from yesterday, clean the litter boxes, take a shower, clean the guinea pig's cage, take the garbage out, change the sheets on my bed and take more pictures of Chinook for this blog 'cause he's really cute and vacuum... that's all.

He's clearly having a hard time adapting.

This is Chinook

Still fits in one hand. Purrs a lot. Must stick his face AGAINST mine at night to go to sleep. Do you know how TICKLISH whiskers are in your nose or your mouth? Highly popular with the humans. Not so much with the cats yet.

He doesn't replace Pasha. He only carries on where Pasha left.

What happened

I sat on my bed, with my new hobby, boxes of beads spread out around me... Pasha was on the fringe, itching to jump into the whole thing. Eventually, he hunted down a piece of discarded string, played with it, then started eating it.
I said: ‘Hey, hey, hey! Oh no you don’t eat that!”
I removed the string from his paws and mouth and dropped it in my waste basket.

I suppose the minute my back was turned, he went and helped himself to the string directly from the waste basket. It never even occurred to me that he could do that.

He ate it. It ravaged his intestines, knotting and slicing them. It killed him.

The vet said they see TONS of cats dying from having eaten string, each year. I had no idea. Cat owners, be warned.

Pasha, you have no idea how much you are missed, the awful emptiness you are leaving behind.

Pasha

Pasha couldn't be saved. He died this morning.

Nowhere out of the woods

We took him home. He moves very, very slowly. He's indifferent to the other cats. He has not started eating or drinking yet, though we hope being back home will stimulate his appetite. We have 4 to 6 pills to give him a day, that's going to be hellish. (You know... cats and pills...)

So fingers crossed. I'd say at this stage, there's a 50-50 % chance he gets better or he deteriorates beyond help. We're going to pamper him with all the love in the world. The rest is out of our hands.

What do I do now?

« We know what he DOESN’T have, says the vet after blood tests, glycolic test, x-rays etc and hundreds of dollars. But we don’t know what he has.”
Great.

Pasha has been at the clinic for two days and will spend another night. He’s had an IV the whole time. He seems better and more awake... but he still throws up and still doesn’t eat.

If tomorrow is more of the same... what do we do? If we take him home and he doesn’t eat, he’ll weaken until he dies. But we can’t leave him at the clinic, in a cage, with a needle up his paw for days on end either...

So at this stage, I don’t know what to do.

Worrying

Shortly after Luritja died, a year ago, I lost my heart for my blog. Here I am, a year later, finally inspired again.

But yesterday, Pasha acted very sick. So we whisked him to the vet, who kept him overnight for various tests and to rehydrate him.

I should get some news today. I am worried. Pasha, please don’t let it be serious or fatal. Hang on, mon Pash, don’t go like Luritja did.

Wealth and Creation

I feel incredibly wealthy... I have received my box from Better World Books today and I have... not one... not two... not three... but THIRTEEN handpicked unread books ready for my summer and vacation reading! I sometimes stock two or three, but THIRTEEN waiting for me, all from authors I already know and like?...
LIFE. IS. GOOD. and I feel super-duper privileged and spoiled as if I were a millionaire... Wealth is all in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.



On another front, I like creating (painting, sewing, drawing etc...) and I was a magpie in a past life in the sense that I adore everything that is shiny, glittery, sparkling... so my new current hobby (I feel like I'm eight years old again, and by Jove, that's rather pleasant actually):
Beads!! I'm making sparkling bracelets in a rainbow of colors, incredible shades of greens and blues (much prettier than the pictures)... it's creating things of beauty, just for the pleasure of it and I find it enormously fulfilling... I used to wear nothing but my earrings and my watch (as far as JEWELRY is concerned, jeez people but you have dirty minds!) but I have taken to always having some of my creations on my left wrist. They catch the light all day and I'm all bubbly inside every time I see them shine...




So there you have it. Two things that bring me joy... I try to always count my blessings.

Before and After

Before:

Look at the size of her beside a hand...

Today:



Before:


Today:

Nothing new on the Dream front

Inception didn't do it for me... Why? Let's see...
The actors and the dialogue, in the first third of the film, never let me forget I was watching lines being delivered.
The music throughout was loud enough to become distinctly annoying.
It's a film that wants to be deep without relinquishing its claim to Action. Unfortunately, the action is both unnecessary to the story, and dragging. The attack on the snowy compound is like a video game: you shoot, anonymous silhouettes crumble, except I got bored with the game long before the director did.

Examples of truly ground-breaking movies are the first Matrix, Avatar, the early Blade Runner. Despite the fuss, Inception is not one of them. The necessary romance, hero's angst, action and twists in the plot have been too dutifully assembled. Instead of being carried away, you simply want to put a check mark as you recognize each element.

Kuddos, however, to Tom Hardy, playing Eames. He's the only breath of fresh air in the middle of a cast of stilted, artificial acting.