"My favourite!"

Who among us hasn't envied a cat's ability to ignore the cares of daily life and to relax completely? (Karen Brademeyer)

This morning we did gardening. Tom mowed the lawn, I raked up the grass, and Lily ran round and round and round the garden. "I'm running! I'm runnning!" We dug out all the summer veggies from the garden. Lily rolled and dug, and half buried herself in this new stinky soil. "My favourite!"

Today has been a slow day. I having been feeling a bit low in energy, have a bit of a cold. So I decided after lunch to lie down, relax, perchance to sleep. It wasn’t to be. Lily wanted to join me; "playtime: my favourite!" She leapt about standing on my face which I covered with a blanket, so she thought it would be fun to bite me inviting me play (as one does. If one is a puppy). I lay completely still while her sharp little teeth sunk into arm, then my wrist was enveloped by her jaw. No response from me. She ran to get her toothbrush ("Toothbrush: my favourite!") from the bathroom and gnawed this on my body for a while, making the bed bounce and jiggle. Then it was time to bury the toothbrush: in my ribs. Much ‘digging’ pursued. When she realised this wasn’t working she buried it amongst Tom’s pillows. (Note to self: had better warn Tom that there is chewed toothbrush sticking out from his pillows). "Toes: my favourite!" No, Lily they are not!

Gave this up as a bad idea. Went for a Lily-walk in the forest. Tom had to wait for me to keep up today. Lily, off-leash, decided that it was her favourite(!) to roll in the excretion of some other animal. She had a very spiky, iffy section of fur (once black, now khaki) down one side. Lovely! Tom bathed her in the kitchen sink once home. "Bath-time: ... not my favourite..."

Gorgeous movie stars and butchers

I put on my “movie star” dress* this morning with purple tights and high-heeled boots. We drove off into the yonder to a craft fair in a medieval village called Ditchling. Not quite appropriately clad for a village outing; but what do I care: I laugh in the face of propriety! I felt lovely. I will probably look at photos of myself in this dress in years to come and go: what was I thinking! In my sorting out in SA, Ariel and I spent hours looking at old photos. And so often she would say: mom, what ARE you wearing?? And I would go: I made that dress; I loved it! Or: I made those flower trousers: they were my favourite. But she was right, as always: some of the outfits did look horribly garish. Now there’s a job for you, Ariel: personal stylist. You can be my personal stylist anytime.

Nicki related a story to me how years ago, she and her family went in to Harrods (? John Lewis?) and each had to chose an outfit for someone else and they had to try it on (no questions or complaints). I can imagine there was much giggling as well as funny looks from the shop assistants. I think you have to choose your personal stylist with care!

Today in Horsham, we went into the butcher’s to buy some flesh (some antelope or something)** and I was presently surprised to see the most glamorous butcher I have yet seen! I told her this. She said she has been called the Joan Collins of butchers (you can tell from this that she is not so young). I liked the fact the she got up at 4 this morning and managed to put on a gorgeous face for her customers and for herself. That she isn’t content to hide behind the racks of meat and be dreary and ordinary. Well done Madame Butcher!

* I bought the dress from Big Blue in Fourways Mall. I love their clothes: although they are quite expensive, they have unusual styles. I tried this dress on because I loved the look of it. The sales assistant, a very flamboyant African lady, told me it looked wonderful (as they do obviously); my personal stylist (Ariel) told me I looked like a movie star! She knows what to say (she was eyeing some trousers in the shop)! So I call this my movie star dress. Ariel did later say that she had seen some off-beat sci-fi movie where the actress had worn a dress similar… (sort of… not the same at all…)

** It wasn’t actually antelope, just some beef

Circle of Friends

Legend of the Circle of Friends

The Indian legend says that at the end of the evening, friends would gather around a bonfire and share their hearts and speak of the good qualities of each other and remember times shared. As the embers faded, their friendship was said to be sealed anew bringing them closer together. As you sit with the candle lit in the middle of your circle of friends, it will surround and embrace all who sit with you and bring good luck to those who stay together.

I gave my garden Circle of Friends to Aileen last week (only a week ago?). Our circles of friends keep changing as we grow in life. Some friends remain forever, and others just cross our paths for whatever reason, to form part of our bigger Quilt of Life.

I think the energy generated by “circles” is very powerful. We tend to miss out on this ritual in our modern lives. What a lovely tradition it would be: to start a Circle of Friends gathering around a bonfire… Actually bonfires, not a good idea… Around a pool of water, or a around a circle of candles on the floor, or a circle of flowers or petals… I am seeing some weaving or binding happening at the same time…

Come my friends, come and sit around a circle with me and let our energies combine…

/ˈ(h)wimzē/

whim·sy/ˈ(h)wimzē/Noun

1. Playfully quaint or fanciful behaviour or humour.

2. A whim.

"I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. It's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do. And that enables you to laugh at life's realities." - Dr Seuss

I guess most of my behaviour is a bit whimsical... I like fantasy and nonsense. I think perhaps I dance to a different beat...somewhat like my friend Graham, who I think actually does hear a different beat to everyone when he dances (I say this with love - and a tinkly bit of laughter).
I have decided to create a "whispers" art journal - a new journey... I do not yet know where it will lead. I read these quotes today in my meanderings:

"One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star" - Friedrich Nietzche
"Confidence, like art, never comes from having allthe answers; it comes from being open to all the questions" - Earl Gray Stevens

Training Lily

Lily and I went to our first puppy training class last night:

We arrived slightly late because I had no idea where the Tilgate Community Hall was and Jane (sat nav) was not working due to the rain. I had printed out directions BUT I cannot read them without my glasses, and it was dark… Lily’s not car-trained, the only time she has been in the car is when someone held her on the way to the vet, so she wailed and scrabbled about all the way there. All the puppies were sitting there quietly with their owners, when we arrived, except Lily. She wanted to go and play: she whined and squeaked and pulled on her leash trying to get to the other dogs. She made the most awful choking noises as she strained on her lead strangling her self rather noisily and publicly *sick smile*

We had to bring a water bowl for our dogs to be filled from a small bottle of water. I only have a porcelain water bowl, which I didn’t want to take so I took a drip tray from a pot plant (which was obviously a drip tray and not a water bowl). Lily stepped in it derisively after I had filled it from Ariél’s Barbie flask – and spilled water everywhere. *sick smile*

Right at the end of class they let three dogs off the leash at a time and we (Lily only had me; the other dogs each had at least two of their humans present) had to control our puppy while it was off-leash... They let Lily be the first off the leash [probably because she was being such a terror]... Think of some word that will be used to call your puppy back, we were taught. An unusual word that they associate with coming to you... Right, I chose: Squirrel!!

Lily frightened some poor Yorkie - it hid under the chair. She raced around and leapt on every available dog, with me was shouting "Squirrel !!" to no avail. Lily wouldn't listen to me or stay in the middle of the room as per instructions. The trainer was very sweet, but she was slightly hysterical by the time she suggested I try and put Lily back on her lead. I am sure the other owners were clicking their tongues. Journey home was more waling and scrabbling. She fell fast asleep as soon as we got home though.

Mushrooms

These mushrooms are part of every fairtytale book from my childhood. Yet they are apparently really quite toxic; if ingested in small quantities they have hallucinogenic side-effects. They were used by shamans to assist them in talking to the gods. They also inhibit the fear reflex in the amygdala - the part of the brain responsible for fear; so the Vikings ate them before embarking on a battle.

I still like to imagine that fairies live under them and are the inspiration for fairy ball gowns. I shall visualise a red and white spotted ball gown for the fairy queen in my dreams tonight.

Silly Lily

Oh to be dressed up in fairy wings and run free in the garden! Remember those carefree days when you could dig around in the dress-up box at nursery school and come out with a delightful concoction of clothes, hats and shoes. You could combine them in your own unique way and nobody would blink an eye.

My Nan had a very eccentric dress sense: actually she had no sense of dress or colour but we loved her outfits! They were happy and they were 'her'. So perhaps as I get older my style of dress will be more child-like. One of these days I will be sporting pink fairy wings!