Time for Walkies!

My Mum has a tooth missing and a denture which she hates, so only ever wears it when she leaves the house.

She also has two lovely dogs, Tasha and Tamba.

...and?  I hear you ask.

Well.

Anybody who has a dog will know they have their 'signal' for when it's time for walkies, usually the picking up of their lead at which they will get super duper excited.

My Mum's dogs are no exception.

Only their 'signal' for walkies is .... the tooth!

Whenever my Mum picks it up, they're up, tails wagging, snorting and heading for the door.

It really makes me smile to see their little faces light up at the sight of it.

I can just imagine them excitedly geeing each other up with, "Come on!
she's got the tooth, SHE'S GOT THE TOOTH!!"

Before I Die ... Saturday Centus # 64

Umm ... this was the first thing that popped into my head 

... better clear the beaches!

Before I die

I want to run

Naked into a turquoise sea

Sun kissing my skin

Glorious

Unashamed

Joyful

ALIVE!

Week 64 of Saturday Centus this weeks prompt is to use just 15 words (not including the prompt) using the line "... Before I die I want to ..."

The Boob Gene!

My daughter informed me yesterday that she was sooo glad she hadn't inherited my boob gene.

After observing her place her bra on her bust as opposed to my morning round up in an effort to secure mine into their hammocks, I wasn't overly surprised.

She then asked if I could I ever remember being flat chested.

"Easy," I answered, "the last time I layed on my back."

"No Mum, not when they disappear under your arms! At what age?"

"Oh, you mean ..."

"You know what I mean - when?"

It was tricky casting my mind back that far, but I told her that I did distinctly remember thinking about bandages a lot and dreading sports day in my middle school.

That seemed to answer her question, and so the conversation progressed.

"Apparently," she continued, intimating a question, "according to some famous model you can gauge the size of your bust by how many pencils you can 'hold' under them."

She looked at me expectantly.

"Huh, a pencil!" I scoffed.

I shook my head and told her that if ever it was needed, I was sure I could secure a small child under mine without too much trouble.

"Exactly!" she said, eyeing her pert frontage and heading to the kitchen  to make a cup of tea.

As I watched her exit the room, I felt a warm glow.

"Mmmm...." I thought.

"I do so love our little mother and daughter chats!"

The Biker .... I Saw Sunday - Week 43

 I Saw Sunday where you can join in with pictures, thoughts, observations, anything you like!

On my way to do the weekly shopping I got stuck in a tail-back of around 6 cars.

I watched as each one edged in and out, desperate for their moment to overtake.

One by one they swept out and sped agitatedly ahead, until finally the offending vehicle was revealed. 

The 'hold-up' was a little silver moped with a large L plate fastened to the back with blue twine.

Astride was a young lad sporting an over sized black leather jacket with tassels along the length of his arms and a shiny black helmet with a red dragon motif on.

He was tearing along at all of 25mph on the 40 mph road, and as I too eventually succumbed and overtook him, I glanced to the side and gave him a reassuring nod.

It was then I noticed his Superman T Shirt.

I couldn't help but smile.

As I looked back at him through my rear view mirror, I could see his proud little face peeping from under his dragon helmet, the tassels dancing in the wind, and the intense look of concentration as he buzzed up the hill behind me.

I could just see in his eyes, that at moment, he felt every inch a 'BIKER'.

A flush of maternal concern enveloped me.

I just hoped he didn't bump into any nasty big bikers that day!

Look, No Hands! .... I Saw Sunday - Week 40

 I Saw Sunday where you can join in with pictures, thoughts, observations, anything you like!

I haven't joined in my lovely sisters I Saw Sunday for a few weeks now, so I kept my eyes open this week for something, and spotted this.

My lovely partner in the front garden, with his back to the road,
weeing ... NO HANDED!

Okay, so we do we live in quite an isolated place, but please!

There he was, bold as brass, one hand on his slouched hip, the other resting on the iron fence, with a steady stream tinkling through the brambles into the field that backs on to our house.

I knocked sharply on the window at him, brow furrowed, gesticulating furiously the way you do when trying to 'shoo' something unwanted from the garden.

But he defiantly stood his ground, obviously mid-stream, his face bearing a look of strained nonchalance.



It crossed my mind that he'd finally lost the plot, until I remembered that our daughter was in the bathroom and her boyfriend was working out in the 'secluded' back garden.

But still I thought.

Okay, so perhaps he really was bursting to go, but what's with the no hands?

When eventually he'd finished and ambled in, I asked.

He snapped his answer, the open-air weeing tension still evident in his tone, "so no-one would know what I was doing!"

Well I suppose it did make sense, and I must admit, although I could see everything from my viewpoint, his slouch hipped casualness would have been impressively convincing from the rear.

I couldn't help thinking though. What on earth would he have done if someone had actually strolled by and stopped for a chat?

It doesn't bear thinking about.

I just can't imagine how he would have got out of it.

It almost makes me want to 'arrange' for the bathroom not to be free again!

Big Head!

There were 4 major incidents as I was growing up that made me aware of the size of my head.

The first was when I was about 5.

I was a real tomboy and loved to climb and venture where I shouldn't, and this day I'd decided to put my head through some railings... like you do.  I'd gauged the gap and feeling confident about its sizing, I'd pushed and pushed, grunting like a pig until finally I did it. I can remember feeling really pleased with myself for about 3 seconds, until I tried to reverse it back out. It was then the realisation hit me ... I was well and truly stuck.
I can remember the look of panic on my Mums face as she fiddled with my ears, pressing them against my head in order to get me free. Looking back, it was obvious that my ears were contributing to the problem, but at that moment, I knew only one thing
... my head was a LOT bigger than I'd thought it was!


The second was when I was about 9 in my middle school.

The whole year were to re-enact a Saxon and Viking battle on the playing field. We all had to make our own axe or sword, our own shield and our own helmet. The teacher set about measuring heads and cutting strips of  cardboard to the right length  then stapling them together. Then we all put paper mache on them, and with our names written proudly inside, we went out to play while they dried.
As we came back into the room and saw all of them lined up on the side, it was obvious that one of them was considerably bigger than the rest.
Karl from the other class shouted ... so everyone could hear.

"Who made that big helmet?"

The teacher quickly responded by reading aloud the name proudly emblazoned inside.

Yes ... you guessed it ... it was me!

This prompted Karl to add

"Your head's MASSIVE!"

My suspicions were well and truly confirmed.

The third incident was as a direct result of the above.

A family head measuring was initiated, which, if I recall correctly, I won. There really wasn't much in it, as it became clear from the measuring where I'd actually gotten my head size.
Genes.
My Dad and my Sister's heads were also generously proportioned.
My Mum on the other hand, although not tiny headed, was not as big as the rest of us. We all had at least an inch on her, and so from this point she was known as 'the pin head'.

The fourth incident was in my teens.

I was in town one Saturday afternoon with my friend and we both decided it would be fun to go and try hats on in Debenhams.
There we stood in front of a huge mirror and an assortment of beautiful hats, and I watched as my much smaller headed friend tried on one hat after the other, all of them framing her face and looking absolutely fantastic on her.
Then it was her turn to watch me.
She stood in absolute hysterics as I tried, or should I say balanced every hat, one after the other Mr.Potato Head style on the top of my head.

All I could hear, apart from her laughing, was Karl's voice from the middle school in my head chanting over and over

"Your head's MASSIVE ... your head's MASSIVE!"

Well there it was, it was conclusive ... I officially had a Carnival Head.


As I grew older and began dating seriously, I just knew that when I eventually settled down with someone, they HAD to have a bigger head than me. I had a few regular size headed boyfriends, which I knew from the start wouldn't work given the size of their head, and then ... I met my lovely partner. Now technically his head, in circumference is one and a half inches smaller than mine, but, and this was the clincher
... his face was MASSIVE!
When I looked in the mirror alongside him, for the first time in my life, I felt like a regular headed person.
Well that was that ... he was a keeper.
20 or so years on, we have a very beautiful, large headed daughter, and as a unit, know that we do give off a sort of carnival vibe.
So
We have an unspoken understanding between us, that if ever the Carnival comes to town ... we stay at home!

Underpants - Three Word Wednesday

I've been trying hard to finish off a children's book I've written, so haven't dared to venture on my blog as I know I'll be on it for hours!
I know I must have missed so many wonderful posts by everyone, but as soon as I have finished, I'll get busy visiting again :o)

I just had a look at 3WW and this came immediately to mind, so I thought I'd allow myself just this one before I get writing again!


Underpants
Incensed, she snatched up his underpants off the bathroom floor. They were damp from where he'd 'avoided' the mat as usual after his bath and trailed wet all around the floor. As she threw them into the washing basket, she shuddered, shaking her hand. "Uugh... and I wondered why his mates called him skid-mark!"


 Three Word Wednesday where you write something using the three prompt words.   This week's words are ... Damp, Incensed and Skid.

Dead Man In The Park! .... I Saw Sunday - Week 33

 I Saw Sunday where you can join in with pictures, thoughts, observations, anything you like!

On a couple of my trips to the park with Grace, I've stopped and talked with a lovely old man in his mobility scooter.  He's 92 years old, charming and bright as a button. So when I saw him across the lake slumped in his scooter, my heart sank. 

"Oh no, he's dead!"  I thought, putting Grace on her lead and rushing around the lake to him. 

As I neared him, my legs went all wobbly and my mind was racing. I really didn't know what to do. There was no-one else about and I didn't even have my mobile on me. He'd become my responibilty. It wouldn't have felt right just to just leave him alone, dead in the middle of the park while I went for help. I thought about perhaps leaning over the handles, pressing the mobility scooter button and 'driving' him away. 

I stood beside him for a while, my heart in my throat, wondering just what to do.

Then with my heart pumping, I steeled myself and tentatively reached out my hand to his shoulder  ....  and he came ALIVE again. I nearly had a heart attack!

After I'd regained my composure, we had a chat and he told me he often liked to take a nap by the lake when the weather was nice. I nodded and agreed, but I couldn't help thinking, well you could've told me that on one of our other chats!

I did have my camera with me, but it seemed bad taste to ask him to pretend to be dead in his scooter again just so I had a picture for my blog!

"MAYBE?"

I just LOVE the things people come out with at times, and something I  heard when I was a lot younger has always stuck in my mind. I was being given a lift with my friend by her parents, and as we turned a corner we saw a car turned completely upside down on its roof.

This was the conversation that took place up front.

The Dad.      "Look!"

The Mum.    "Do you think someone's done that?"

The Dad.      "I don't know... (thoughtful pause) ... Maybe."

Now, as I said, I was a lot younger at the time and very polite so I just kept quiet, but every part of me was screaming  "MAYBE?"

I can remember shaking my head, thinking, what other possible options could there be?

It was dead?

It got bored and 'flipped' itself?

Or just possibly... umm... umm... let me think.

Yes someone DID do it!

It still makes me smile.

Pixies! - Three Word Wednesday

She was adamant she'd seen a pixie running across the lino in the kitchen. Never one to fabricate, I took into account her 5th glass of wine, and smiled.

"It was most peculiar," she said, shaking her head. "It had a bright pink hat on!"

I leant over the chair and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Hey Gran, what do you say we go up to bed now?"

She looked at her empty glass and tutted. "Might as well, there's no wine left in the kitchen anyway."

I raised my eyebrows. "Mmm, I know ... strange that, I can't think where it all went."

"I know," she answered innocently.  Then paused for a moment, deep in thought, "... but do you know what Amy?"  She gestured over to the kitchen door and whispered, "it wouldn't surprise me if that damn pixie didn't drink some!"


 Three Word Wednesday where you write something using the three prompt words.   This week's words are ... Adamant, Fabricate and Peculiar.

A Special Bed - Monday's Child # 40

Monday's Child prompt for children's poetry or verse

I have a secret, but please don't tell

for normal beds are all very well

but mine goes to places in my dreams

on sky blue oceans and deep green seas.

It waits until I'm fast asleep

then whisks me off before I can peep

to special coves and golden sands

where it sweeps me in and softly lands.

Then all night long I'll run and play

till it's time to go, then my bed will say

come snuggle now and rest your head

 for to sail you must sleep in your special bed.

Monkey Nuts!

We have decided to stop snacking in the evening which has proved a little more difficult for my lovely partner.
As he insists he gets hungry an hour after his tea, I got him some monkey nuts to have instead of his usual biscuits, crisps and chocolate as I thought at least they'd be better for him.
When his one hour evening 'food fast' had elapsed, I trotted into the kitchen and came back with the big bag of monkey nuts which he took eagerly, his eyes wide with delight.
He then positioned himself on the sofa, punched a hole with his fist in a pillow to shell the nuts into, and began shelling in earnest until he had enough for a mouthful.
He did this over and over and over.
It kept him occupied for absolutely ages, as he quietly and methodically worked away for his nuts.
As I watched, it put me in mind of the animal enrichment programmes they have in the zoo,  and I couldn't help thinking as I saw his happy little face ... gosh, it really does work!