But then, as more pets passed away I became a bit more philosophical about losing something that I had loved with my whole heart. Because it has nothing to do with me being at fault, or abandonment. In fact it has nothing to do with me at all, but with the way Nature works.

You see, there’s a time to be born, and a time to say goodbye. A time for renewal and a time to make place. A time for Spring and Summer and a time for Fall and Winter. And for as long as the Earth has been here, it has always been like that.

Animals, plants and trees know this.  And, although animals do love us back just like humans do, they’re more in tune with Nature than we are. We celebrate the birth, but we hate the thought of death. And if death happens often enough in our lives, we might even become scared of loving something or someone ever again. We fight growing old(er) with everything we got: Medical treatments, Botox, diets, name it and we’re on to it.

Because we don’t want anything or anybody dying on us. To humans that’s almost like giving in.

But Nature doesn’t work like that and time after time we have to give in. And, as I said, animals play by Nature’s rules and not ours. People come into our lives, pets come into our lives. And we are allowed to love them as much as we’re capable of. The only difference is, that although animals have a memory just as humans do, they don’t care about the future. They don’t have a concept of tomorrow, only of today, yesterday and past events that they have to remember.

But they don’t worry about dying. When their time has come, they know. And most go with great dignity.They know we have loved them. But now it’s the time to leave us, until we meet again, somewhere, somehow. Unconditional love is Universal, and not time-bound. It’s eternal. My love for all of them lives on in my heart, for ever and ever.

And I’d like to thank my pets for teaching me this great wisdom.

I have a friend who is 73 and single. He loves the ladies and sees himself as a real Casanova. But mention the word old, older or even mature to him and he claims to be 53. And no doubt in his mind he is and stays 53 or even 33. And that’s fine with me; I don’t care how old he is; he’s been a good friend to me, and still is.

But I’m fully convinced that we all have a true self. Somewhere deep inside us there lives this person who we really are. And this person has beautiful and good qualities, but also not so desirable qualities which we all like to disguise the best we can. And no mistaking; we’re very good at disguising. We’re all very good at bringing the good stuff out when we want to impress someone, we smile and are all charm. Someone has noticed that you’re a good person. You’re someone who climbs up a tree to rescue a kitten. Or, if you haven’t done that, you sure have the makings of a kitten-rescuer. This sort of conversation brings out the best in all of us.

Because we like to hear that we’re great people. And if not great we want to do the next best thing and that’s being beautiful on the outside.

The first person who in polite company, or even to himself wants to admit that they’re also jealous, hateful, self centered, selfish and money grabbing still have to be born I think. We simply don’t want to admit that we’re not the saints we think we are. So we deceive ourselves a bit.But, although I hope that the negative side that’s also your true self is considerably  less than the positive side, it’s still there.  A tiny wriggling worm of negativity wrecking your beautiful self image of pure goodness.

I’m an honest person. I know I am. But I am not a saint and sometimes I go deep inside myself, bypassing all the good qualities I have, and looking around for my “nasties”. I take no excuses from myself, and there’s no hiding.

Then the fight is on, between them and me. It’s an honest fight and I see and address all the faults I have. You see, there’s only one who knows me best, and that’s me. And only one that can be completely honest to me and that’s me. I am also  the only one who I won’t punch on the nose for pointing out my faults.

All these deep reflections on my flaws won’t make me perfect, I know that. But at least I’m aware that I have them, and what they are so I can keep them in check. And above all: My true self, my inner core is honest with me. Maybe I deserve that.

With animals it’s easy; you treat them with respect and you usually get it back. It takes a bit of understanding from both sides, but we nearly always end up being friends.

Not so with the two-legged kind that comes only in one variety: Humans. I treat them the same as all that lives, whether that might be on 4 legs or more, whether they have fur or feathers. But the 2 legged ones sometimes react in a completely different way than you’d expect them to react. And this fascinates me endlessly.

I won’t write about the gazillions of genuine good people. They’ll always see the good intentions in others, and hardly any flaws. The bad ones don’t need any attention from me; I keep well away from them and I just hope that they’re locked away in the good care various Governments across the Globe are kindly providing to them at no cost to them thanks to your and my tax money.

No, I’m talking about the arrogant ones. The ones who think who are better than us. This lot is to me like a red towel is to a bull in my bad times, and a rather amusing mouse would be to a cat when I feel okay. If their arrogance is aimed at someone else, I get angry, but if it’s aimed at me they instantly turn into a mouse for my enjoyment.  I know I should take them more seriously, (when it’s aimed at me)but I simply can’t so you’ll have to excuse me.

You see, they all have one thing in common: They feel entitled. Whatever they’re arrogant about, this is the common denominator. If they have more money they feel they can boss you around. If they have a bigger car it’s the same. And if they think they have more intelligence they look down on us commoners who are probably too stupid to understand in which exalted state of mind they usually dwell, and their knowledge is probably wasted on us. Or, if they’ve given it some careful thought, we might just pass the muster where the brain cells are concerned, but then we must be spoken to very slowly .

But don’t be mistaken, they’re not always the clowns I describe here: Racism is truly the worst form of arrogance. To think you’re better just because of the color of your skin is outrageous. And to condemn a whole race because of it is something I don’t understand.

Now I got your attention I’d like to explain something else: To be proud of your country, culture and race is one thing. That sort of patriotism is something I support with my whole heart. But let’s not confuse this with racism: To condemn others who come from a different culture and background and who are darker skinned than you are. One is good, the other not.

Let’s be open to one another. Let’s be the first generation ever who proves that if not understanding, then perhaps we can at least accept each other.

After all, you don’t want to be called “arrogant” do you???

Of course one needed to consume vast amounts of alcohol first. But after staggering outside it usually didn’t take too long before you saw plankers everywhere. The pavement and roads were literally covered with them. Of course the local Police was not so impressed with all these plankers and had the place cleaned up before dawn.

The second kind of “planking” involved teens and old people. Although I must confess that the teens were better at it, and usually on school mornings. With it comes careful planning, although you don’t need a lot: A cozy bed, and parents who are indulgent. And if they’re not, you turn into the sales person of the year, but one you definitely don’t want to be in Real Life later on, because that means you’ll have to quit “planking” and get up at a time others get up too, and then it’s called “work”.

The third kind of “planking” is done on park benches; and usually you’ll find a brown paper bag somewhere nearby the “planker”. These people have made a career out of “planking”. Hogging the park bench for days on end and expecting you to eat your well-earned sandwich on the footpath.

A more refined form of “planking” is done at the office. This is usually done around the water cooler or the photo copier. This is art form is not easily to achieve; many years of training have gone into it. It nearly always coincides when there are young attractive females around. It’s done standing up, but requires standing very close to the attractive female, and does not always have the permission from the female.

These are just a couple of examples. I’m sure when you look around you you can discover many ways of “planking”. That is, if you have the time.

But we like being afraid and right through the Middle Ages it certainly was no fun going to Church; we were all going to Hell and would stay there forever. It’s only of late that we’ve come to recognize and appreciate all the goodness God has bestowed upon us. But no such tender thoughts even entered the minds of the poor Middle Agers, who had nothing to look forward to than a roasting in hell.

Fortunately someone bright finally woke up, found his dusty Bible and started reading it properly. The message was clear: God loves us.

You would think that that would be the end of all our fears and the human race would live happily ever after. But it didn’t quite happen this way. For one, Churches noticed that the income dramatically plummeted. People no longer had to “buy” a more favorable opinion from God via the Clerics. They already had it, so why pay for it.

But people being people, (and this had nothing whatsoever to do with the Churches in those long-ago-days) they insisted on being afraid. And in the 19th Century the “ghosts” appeared. And with this phenomenon a whole new movement sprung up. In the 19th Century we were literally overrun with ghosts it seems.

But the ghosts had worn out their welcome by the 1950′s. We were no longer afraid of them. So we looked at the skies; surely something would come out of the clouds to scare us once again? And right as rain it happened: Visitors from Outer Space. The first ones are nice and friendly. According to the stories they were herb gatherers. Not quite the scary ET’s we’ve come to know and love: instead they looked rather like us. (according to the stories).

But as Hollywood evolved from a backwater to the gazillion dollar industry it is now, so did the aliens. And not for the better: Ugly, life sucking multi tentacle creatures who somehow found their way through the vast Universe to pester us.
Yes, that boy who made that first “flying saucer” (which was indeed the size of a saucer) which dangled from a piece of rope from his Mom’s washing line has a lot to answer to.
And although I’m definitely not denying that there’s life in the Universe outside ours, I have the sneaky suspicion the aforementioned alien creatures thought the round shape was a brilliant design and have copied it, for the sole reason that it looks so good on YouTube.

But we even got tired of being scared of aliens. After all,the trillion YouTubes on this subject have not convinced everybody. And if they can Photo Shop wrinkly, overweight movie stars into beautiful suntanned long legged skinny glowing people, the creation of shooting something in the nightly sky while having the camera rolling must be a breeze in comparison.

So back to Religion: We were scared once, so let’s do it again. Sadly the concept of some preachers is the same as before: “Give me your money and you’ll be saved. There’s only place for few and time is short. I have done my sums and this will be the deadline.”

And this angers me. What these preachers are doing is saying:”I’m the Only One. I’ve figured it all out. I have such a special relationship with God I know exactly how He’s thinking and what He’s thinking. The rest of you are too stupid, to even begin to understand how this works. But leave it up to me and you’ll be saved. Oh and sell your house before the deadline. Your money will be safe in my account. Besides, you’ll have no need for it as you’ll be going to Heaven. Why?? Because I say so.”

For those of you wonderful readers who’re religious: My message is this: God has no calendar. He’ll do things in His Time and not before that.
For those who are not religious: My Bible says: “Beware of false Prophets”.

I then came up with acupuncture. Stick some needles in and I would be a non-smoker in no time. To make a long story short, that was a waste of another $50 that made the Chinese acupuncturist very happy, but I was already lighting up the moment I stepped in the car. When making the appointment I clearly forgot that if this method was so successful, no Chinese would be addicted and China would be a non-smoking nation. (which it isn’t).

As the years went by, I came up with quite a few new solutions The Easy Way. The Pharmaceutical industry is not silly and knows that there are millions of people like me. In fact, they probably even employ them; look behind their buildings and you’ll see them close to the doorway huddling in the cold and wind frantically trying to make their lighters work.

But they came up with a convenient way to quit, although not quite. Just stick a patch on your arm, and your supply of nicotine goes straight into your bloodstream. Only in my case even that went wrong; I (accidentally) bought the higher dose which left me gasping and left me feeling like a cigar smoker. So I tore them off and mourned the loss of $350. For which I could have gone out for dinner, and a nice one at that.

Then there were the capsules. They worked up to a certain point, until one (again by accident) broke in the back of my throat. I still remember the vile taste in my mouth. And no, it didn’t stop me from lighting up another cigarette. Well, I needed one, after a traumatic experience like that, didn’t I?? And once again, I was $400 poorer.

So off to the doctor. It was clear I needed medical help. “This is not a good habit” the good doctor told me. “No, we both agree on that, but I wish you wouldn’t call it a habit” I said. “What am I going to call it then and what’s the difference??” the non-smoking and rather surprised doctor said. “The difference is, that when you have a habit, it usually means you can leave it. Like eating an apple every day”. I told him. “This is an addiction because I can’t leave it; I need nicotine.”
I left with a bag of painkillers and sleeping pills. Which I never have taken and I just threw the whole bag in the trash.

But life went on and I kept on smoking. Until I got sick last year. Nothing serious, just a persistent cold that stayed. Which turned into a bronchitis. Which left me with sore lungs and especially extremely tired.
Now, I’m not a young woman anymore, but when you see folks in their eighties who are walking faster than you are, you just know there’s something wrong.

But alas, I’m not somebody who listens to people. No, correction, I do but whenever the smoking comes up, I nod politely and then the moment they’re out of sight I happily light up another one. This is the one area of my life where I won’t take advice from anybody. Nor would I promise another person to quit. Not my family, not my friends.

But then came the day last week when I woke up in the morning and I could breathe normally again. Without getting a coughing fit. Without pain in my lungs. Feeling good.Feeling energetic. Feeling great about life again.

I lit up a cigarette. Yes, that felt good too. But the feeling of happiness, of being able to do things normally again without having to sit down all the time lasted.

So I did something I’ve never done before: I made a deal with God. Yes, I made a deal I have to stick to: “If I quit, can You help me to feel this way all the time?” Was my prayer.
And I did that because He’s the Boss. And you don’t mess around with promises made to The Boss. For Him a deal is a deal. And of course (unlike deals made with people) I’m not sure what He’s going to do if I fail.

Tomorrow is the day. Yes, I’ll be miserable, yes I might be tearing the wall paper up. And no, I won’t disappoint The Boss.

For further help I’ll put a link in here. This site is making a lot of sense to me and if you’ve ever thought about quitting, it’s a good read!

read here

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I probably have a weird sense of humor, but I’ve just spent hours and hours watching about 6 owls sleeping. Now, I do like owls for several reasons. But I tell you about that later. What made the video so incredibly funny was that it is actually life broadcast, and all you see is them huddling together and making weird noises. What I didn’t know was that they sort of doze off, shuffle a bit and make noises while they’re doing all that. 4 Were perfectly lined up at the front and 1 was in the back. The problem was number 5. That one just didn’t quite fit in and kept on wriggling and waking all the others up, which once again ensued in grumbling owls, and yet another attempt at getting the very best seat in the house owl-style, but #5 had no idea that he was doing it all wrong as his back was turned and all the others were facing the camera. And the camera was rolling.

But when I came back after an hour or so I truly expected them there, in their snug little box still shuffling and snoring. What I didn’t realize that it was night and these owls have a job to do. They’re the night shift so to speak. And those big funny cat-like-eyes see just about everything that moves at night. Especially mice. (who presumably don’t like watching these 5 but start shivering in fear if they were)But I was ROFL-ing away when one of them looked straight into the camera. They always looks so incredibly surprised.

Well, maybe they are. I would be too if I knew that there were about 660 people watching me  trying to get some sleep in a small box with 4 other owls. But the most funny part was that about 600 people were looking at an empty box later on. Yes, me too.

At the moment I don’t feel that way; the house we’re living in just doesn’t feel like home. It was meant to be a temporarily abode until we decided what to do, and which town to live. That was the Plan. What happened was that when we arrived in this village, I went a bit land hungry and we signed up for some land, and then we didn’t know what to do with it. So we decided to rent.

But living somewhere temporarily is totally different than living somewhere permanently; we just put the furniture down and connected the various appliances. The first thing we noticed was that there weren’t enough electricity outlets, so we did the dangerous thing: extension cords. The result is that we keep on tripping over them and they look awful.

My family (which consists of males) couldn’t care less; the lack of homeliness and no careful placing of knicknacks doesn’t seem to bother them at all. But it bothers me. Over the year I have bought about only 3 bunches of flowers and that’s a sign that I don’t feel the Queen here. What happened to my one place on earth where I can hole up on dark Winter nights and feel safe, and where I can enjoy the light and sunshine on Summer mornings? I feel like a Nomad living in a tent. All that’s missing are the camels and the desert outside.

So we’re going to build a new house, a castle where I can be Queen once again. A castle where I can put flowers on the table, and where I can walk around without tripping over extension cords. Which will have a fireplace for Winter and a sunny deck for the Summer. Where the dining table is used for dining and not to put the computer/printer/various other stuff on. And a large garage that I can turn into a Studio to do my artwork.

My 2 Princes nod at everything I propose for my castle, although they don’t quite see my vision of homeliness for the next house. As long as the TV is placed in a corner close to the couch they’ll go along with everything else. They, as men, don’t really care whether I put roses or tulips on the table. For all they care I put poison Ivy there. But I think that although it’s a “woman” thing, they’ll be pleased with the end result. When I reign once again, my castle will be Home.

P.s: I’ll place a link in here for an excellent site that has the most beautiful houses:

http://www.houzz.com/ideabooks/381718/list/Treat-Yourself-to-a-Bouquet-of-Flowers

And that felt good. Nothing bad that ever happened to me was my fault. I came out lily-white. But before the halo could settle around my head I had another thought: “Let’s not think about “fault” and “blame”here. Let’s take that out and see where I end up. The halo quickly disappeared.

Okay, people can be nasty. Okay, certain situations were completely outside my control. But how did I react to them? At the time I felt hurt. But what about today? What did I do with it? What did I learn? Was it enriching for me or was I just good at playing the victim?

Yes, I did learn some lessons along the way, and they served me well over the years. Mainly on how not to treat others, but also on how to react on bad people and situations. Treat others with compassion if you can and avoid them if you really dislike them.Stay calm in bad situations. Use your heart in the first one and your grey matter in the second one.

So in all fairness, I did pick some lessons up. And a big “Thank you Life” for that too. I don’t mourn the loss of what I never had and what I can’t have in life.; not anymore.( It’s a complete waste of time and energy; the past is gone).I’m happy with small things. I appreciate the love and friendships in my life. I have my faith in God which guided me and never let me down.

As I grow older I find that the lessons I’ve learned are valuable ones. More valuable than money and other riches. I have finally grown up; my true self combined with the wise lessons life has thrown at me make me a rich woman indeed.

But before I got too carried away in my role as a countess complete with long dress and servants to do my bidding I decided to quickly check the Internet.

And I really thought that this was going to be a breeze. Just Google a couple of names, add the dates, see if it all ads up and it would all fall into place. I thought I was going to be finished in an afternoon or so and have my ancestors neatly lined up right down to Adam and Eve.

But alas, it didn’t happen like that at all; my ancestors proved to be an elusive lot. Besides, a lot of other (living) people with exactly the same name appear in searches as well. After a couple of days I saw the castle, long dress and servants disappearing behind the horizon and became a bit more practical. No more nonsense and romanticism; if I could find one trace I would be very happy.

But this too proved to be an uphill battle: I didn’t even know where my grandparents were born. So I gathered all the information I could find and printed it out. But this too was confusing: Now I had whole families dating back from the 1700′s to the 1500′s and none of the first names looked familiar, nor where they lived. The first problem with this is that they had so many children; some had at least 15. Eliminating the girls (who didn’t carry the name) some still had at least 7 boys who did.

One thing I noticed: In those days they stayed close to home. Whole areas had clusters of the same names. Which made it even more difficult again.

But there are some highlights: When you belonged to a certain Church, you stuck with it. And Churches keep records. Bless the Clerics who kept all important dates on vellum and later on paper!

So, after a couple of weeks of searching what have I got? Well, I have accumulated a lot of paper work with all sorts of family trees. Who could or could not be my family. Who could or could not be interesting; just names and dates.But I gained something else too, and something far more important and interesting.

Of the ones that actually did prove to be related to me I discovered whole lives. Where they lived, where they traveled to, what occupations they had. And this makes them real. Far, far before I was born these ancestors of mine lived, laughed and had their children. And some were surprisingly like me.