Queen For A Day

I just turned forty.

I’m not sure how I feel about this.

Indeed, how is one ‘supposed’ to feel at such a supposedly pivotal point in life? Overjoyed? Disgruntled? Or just relieved that you can still pee in the right place and the dementia hasn’t set in yet?

Maybe I should be more into it, maybe I should try harder, but this whole transition to middle age has left me rather nonplussed if I’m honest. I didn’t even bother with a party. No cake, no candles, no otherworldly amount of alcohol that would make even Keith Richards raise an eyebrow. Although, to be fair, most of my friends are still happily ensconced in the Shaky Aisles of New Zealand and at NZ$1200 a pop, I doubt, short of tickets in the post, that any of them would have accepted the invite anyway.

I opted instead for a cocktail or two and sushi with my significant other - a man who it must be said did an exceptional job on the gift front with Queen + Adam Lambert tickets, jewellery and my pride and joy, a singing stubbie holder for the Aussie AFL team the Fremantle Dockers. The former elicited squeals of delight, the latter also elicited squeals of delight and, well, the ring was a damn fine effort too. I mean what more does a girl need? With this I was truly content.

But I can’t help thinking I should have wanted to do something more: Scale Everest perhaps, run a marathon, or at the very least have gotten another tattoo.

But no. I settled, instead, for the annual Facebook celebrity status where birthday wishes come flying at you from people you haven’t heard from since probably last birthday and a rigorous game of Rummiking. Which I won by the way.

I wonder if Adam Lambert felt any of this upon entering his thirties. I bet he had a party; gold lame and glitter flying around, hor dourves in the shape of little microphones, Chianti for all and Jameson’s Irish Whiskey for the inside few.

Really, I surreptitiously slid rather than boldly stampeded from my dirty thirties into my naughty forties; stealthily ambushed the next decade like it was a rogue elephant, albeit a quite one, in the corner of my room. This is not necessarily a bad thing. But. Shouldn't I feel something more momentous about all of this, more exhilarating even? Shouldn't I feel more appreciative of the moment? With all the diseases, natural disasters, political and religious unrest and idiot drivers in the world today, it’s quite the achievement just to have made it this far! Shouldn't I be smelling a new sweetness in the air? Smiling at small children more? Or be bursting to donate time to the elderly and take an interest in politics?

I'm just not feeling it eh.

No, I think I will just have to accept the fact that I simply don’t give a toss about the aging process, or marking particular increments thereof. Don’t get me wrong, I am a jolly grateful type of lass, but all this contemplation and analysis has hardly triggered the endorphin response. Ultimately, I doubt I will remember my fortieth birthday as an epiphany generating day of wonder. Instead, I feel, it will be fondly looked back upon for its Japanese cuisine, exquisite company and a sequinned guy wearing heels that would have me on my ass in five seconds.

And another one bites the dust.

Cheers!

  

What? When? Huh...o.0?

My child just turned 17.

I don't recall giving my permission for this.

Last thing I remember, she was still getting her shoes on the wrong feet and discovering the joys Play Doh. Sometimes both at once.

What the hell happened in the 13 odd years since then!

Mind you, there was that bit where she went to school...that took up some time. Then there was that bit where she stopped going to school....that took one day.

Then there was the bit where she discovered boys. Her father and I were kinda hoping she would hold off till about 25 for that one, but, it was not too be.

And there was also the bit where she discovered every hair modification product known to humankind. Along with tattoos, piercings, spiky shoes and the stretching of ears.

Yeah, ok, that's starting to jog the memory.

But it's been mostly fun all up. The advantage of co-parenting from different houses, I have found, is that when one's adolescent becomes.....challenging, you can always say: "sod off and visit your father". I figure I can't have been too revolting to live with though...she always came back!

Now I'm not going to say we are out of the woods yet, but so far she is not pregnant, addicted to any substance, or affiliated with any criminal organisation. This, I think, is worth celebrating. As is the fact she is fervently studying hairdressing at the moment and doing a damn fine job of it I must say....well on her way to qualified employment

I reckon that's a fair trade for letting the kid have earlobes she could now poke ping pong balls through.

Happy Birthday my baby girl :) xoxo

Major...I want to speak to the General

I'm rather broken at the moment.

And I don't use the term lightly

Apparently, however, it's supposed to get better.

When the almighty hospital people said that having a central component of my reproductive equipment removed was going to be major surgery, they weren't kidding. And two weeks into the recovery I'm starting to think I seriously underestimated the term 'major'!

Now don't get me wrong here...I sat on my ass like a good girl in that hospital (like I had a choice hooked up to a catheter and a morphine drip!)...and when I got home...I didn't move much more. But fluffing around in ones abdominal area it seems has all sorts of repercussions that are decidedly unpleasant...and the effects of taking 19 pain-killers a day ain't exactly a waltz in the park either.


Suffice to say, I haven't quite reached the 'grateful for the marvels of modern medicine' stage just yet.  

I have however developed a whole new respect for how clever my body can be.

Case in point: sneezing. My body would not let me sneeze...well until yesterday. If I tried to sneeze previous to this. it would break it into two much smaller sneezes...very odd...and wholly unsatisfying; but when the alternative means possibly undoing all the nice surgeon's handy-work, I guess I can dispense with the sneezegasms.

And stretching was another one...it wasn't until this morning when I woke up that I realized I hadn't had the urge to stretch and yawn for two weeks!

The body is a funny thing....clever, but funny.

On the whole, however, I can't bitch (well I CAN...but I'll be good and not). Although I cannot drive or lift over 3kgs for another four weeks....I can read books, listen to music, watch movies, be a passenger, text message, talk on the phone, do crafty things, pat a cat, do a jigsaw puzzle, and last but not least... play on Facebook!

Not that I do that much of course...*cough*

(Oh crap, that's right....It hurts to cough as well! >.<)

*sigh*

The Eye Of The Lion...wait, what?

Well haven't I been a quiet little Tigress!

In my defence though, I have also been been a busy little Tigress (surgeries and such), and regrettably have the type of personal life that makes Day Of Our Lives seem like a perfectly plausible chain of events.

But in the greater scheme of things I do believe it's all settling down. The racket of all the doors closing and new ones opening has been a little deafening but nothing a good hearing aid won't fix, and I am ready to embrace new things, especially if he's cute...

but I digress...

It is important to remember, I feel, that when one comes into a busy spell in ones life one cannot forget one's stripy little responsibilities. I have offspring as some of you know but I also (at time of onset of chaos) had a few thousand followers on my Facebook page, who, I knew, were starting to wonder where the hell I had got to.

It was obvious I needed back up....but The Musings Of A Tigress is just that! The Musings of Me....how can someone else help with that?? To put a co-admin on the page would invariably mean letting someone else represent, at least to a certain degree, what was in my head (a scary proposition if ever there was one O.O)

And it's not like I could just add any old random off the street....I had to think this through....much research had to be done! Pedigrees needed to be analysed! Police records needed to be checked!

There was much flailing of paws and gnashing of fangs let me tell you!! 

It was quite the stressful situation.

Or perhaps not.

Frequently in life, I have discovered, karma will simply bring you what you need if you are paying enough attention to notice it, And this was the case here. Enter random 'like' whom I ended up having a number of interesting conversations with....about everything from Denis Leary to stars to lions to 'special someones'. And thus it all rather fell into place.

Ok, hold up.....I confess, I stalked the crap out of his thousands of pictures for content and response (and his response to responses) and THEN it all rather fell into place. It all of a sudden became obvious, there could be only one female entity on the page...the other had to be a contrast, but compatible. A counterpoint if you like. Tigress was my baby...I wanted someone who would respect what I had built and nurture it as I would but still stand apart as a unique identity. And he also had to 'fit' somehow....Thus Lion Eyes came into Tigressland.

And he's done a pretty damn good job too I must say; representing my Leonine half! The figures are way up...the people are happy and while anyone who knows me knows I am not the most feminine of creatures, it is still rather nice having a masculine presence round the place. The fur on the couch is ridiculous but he cooks bless him! Would be nicer if he wasn't completely on the other side of the bloody planet so I could TASTE IT! But he cooks :)

It's going well.

I'm a happy little Tigress :)

It's puzzling really...

I have been known to get a little obsessive over things. Once started, it can be extremely difficult to distract me from an activity. My Facebook page is one known addiction, cleaning a particular item or tidying someone else's house are others (Aspy much?!...And I'm so much better than I was!)...puzzle books...a good novel also qualify.

As does doing jigsaw puzzles.

Jigsaw puzzles are one of the world's little enigmas aren't they. They surely must have come about by accident when some demented little git decided to chop up a picture of his Mrs of something. Then some other anal-retentive little twazzock got his thrills from sticking it all back together again.

Ok, I'm full of it...according to http://www.mgcpuzzles.com/mgcpuzzles/puzzle_history/ they started in the 1760's with maps getting chopped up as educational toys...adult ones kicked in around 1908. Apparently they created quite the stir....obsession even...I can relate.

Now I don't use the term obsession lightly here; I have been known to knock out a 1000 piece scenic jigsaw puzzle in under two days (including meals and sleeping) and did the first 550pc "World's Most Difficult Jigsaw Puzzle" (The 'Buffalo Games" one with buffalo in various sporting poses on an all blue background) in under 8 hours, including lunch,....when I was 11.

As a result of the latter I have always snorted heartily at the "World's Most Difficult" part. Just coz they stuck the same picture on the other side turned 90 degrees doesn't really add much challenge...you just do all the easy bits twice then once you find which bit fits the body of your puzzle, you turn the other one over. It's not rocket science. To be honest, those edgeless ones with the five extra pieces put up more of a struggle.

The ones of all dice or jelly beans or some other such mundane object tend to pose a bit more entertainment, however...but I doubt they would qualify as "world's most difficult" either.

I think I know which one has that covered.

Back when I was a pup I saw something on TV about the "Purple Dread": a 5000 piece puzzle that was entirely purple. Now I ask you...what miserable, mongrel-gutted swine would think up something like that!

I have no idea....but I think I found his/her kid....

http://www.pizmogames.com/games/load.php?g=hardestjigsaw

I'll see you three years next Thursday.

Tales from Who(re)ville...

A few days ago, "The Musings Of A Tigress" Facebook page hit 3000 likes.

Now I'm not gonna deny it...I'm jolly happy about this, and it thrills me no end that people appear to be coming toward my somewhat random collection of thoughts and humour versus running away from it. And it's always heartening to think that you bring a smile, a chuckle, or maybe even a laugh...to another's world. I never cease to be honoured by all the wonderful comments and shares I receive in a given day.

But I do feel I must watch myself; one doesn't want to be seen as getting caught up in one's own celebrity now does one. And rightly so....I'm a page owner on Facebook, not Kate bloody Middleton!

It's hard though, not to focus on such things when one is crawling up the posterior of a certain 'like' total (for example 3000). Now my rational side (which I like to think is quite large) says just relax, it's no big deal, really, it'll happen in its own time. It reminds me that a page admin should always demonstrate gratitude for the followers they have, and serve first and foremost to entertain them with their output...not build up symbols of popularity akin to a boy-band's album sales.

But all this rationality seems powerless to stop me from occasionally turning into an absolute 'likes' WHORE!

It's the number you see! I mean I was fine at about 2800ish...just cruisin' along...nothing urgent...and then it ticked over to 2900...

2900...

As in 100 off 3000....nice big fat round 3000

And this is where the tics start to turn up. I make a coffee, occupy the offspring and develop a 'focused' look previously only elicited from hammering at the final level of Zuma.

And it's also about now that the admins of other pages start to get the hint that the Tigress has donned her fishnets.We pages can also like each other you see and have our own newsfeeds upon which my posting, hinting and downright grovelling starts to turn up en masse. And I'm always awed at this point by how tolerant and helpful these folk are during my times of....lunatic intensity. I'm not sure if they help me out because they really love my stuff or simply because I look ridiculous in a mini skirt and they are trying to clean up the neighbourhood.

Either way it works very well, and once I skip over the relevant milestone, I miraculously become once again the sedate(ish) stripy individual that you all know and love.

And to be honest, no one is more relieved about this than me...I mean it's quite intense and exhausting all that promoting and posting and gifting and such.

And seriously, stilettos are a bitch to walk in!

Bite me....

I am generally not one to dwell on my medical situations as there is no real point, but occasionally it humours me to share the latest antics of my body. We converse frequently, my body and I, and sometimes harsh words are spoken....but this time I laughed...out loud.

Anyone who has followed my blog will be aware of my spiffy little run-in with breast cancer (I'm still winning by the way...it can f**k off and leave my stripy ass - well tit - alone!) which forces me to deal with the delights of Tamoxifen (like being in a menopause of sorts, complete with hot flashes, chills, cramping extremities and.....assertiveness..).

But I also have a few other things on the go including being HLA B27+, which courts such fun as iritis (inflamed eyes - requiring dilation of the pupil so you look like a malfunctioning terminator...in public), dry eyes, and ankylosing spondilitis (a form of arthritis which 'flares' regularly and could culminate in some of my bones 'setting' like brittle concrete - though how mine will develop is yet to be known, it may get no worse than it is so that's a good thing :))

Add this to being gluten and dairy intolerant and caffeine and yeast sensitive though and things get a little tiresome. Oh, and I mustn't forget my misbehaving internal girly bits that have now qualified me for a hysterectomy in the next 3-6 months (Yippee!).

Despite all this fun and shenanigans however, I go to the gym and do pretty much what other people do as I can. And I frequently remind myself that many many people deal with stuff a lot worse than my little random collection of conditions. But that doesn't mean I feel inclined to add to the list!

Picture this...

Two weeks ago, I'm hanging out at my mate's place helping with some furniture rearranging and such when I start to feel a little..peculiar....like I'm exercising hard core but standing still. I mention this to her (she just happens to be a nurse) and go to lie down for 20 minutes. I still feel rather 'racy' and short of breath so without sitting up I pathetically wave my hand in the air and ask my friend to take my pulse...it's over 100 (my normal resting pulse rate  - as taken at the gym 2 days earlier - is in the 60's where it should be, and my blood pressure was also fine at 121/68).

Well this was a tad disconcerting...

As I had had a very stressful weekend however, I just put it down to that and my body slowly settled down over the next couple of days until I was back to normal. I thought nothing more of it until about a week later; I was at the gym with another friend when she said: "Good God what did you do to your leg?!!" This was a very good question for being the observant type that I am, I had managed to completely miss a (very impressive I must say) bruise the size of your average tomato on the back of my calf and another smaller one further up.

WTF? Who misses shit like that?

Anyway, the larger bruise also had a clear spot in the middle and it occurred to me that some small arachnid had possibly tried to execute my demise by stuffing its fangs into my tender person. The little sod.

So I thought I better mosey along to my local pharmacy and run my brilliant deduction by someone who was qualified enough to ascertain whether it was brilliant or not.

As it turned out, it was a little more brilliant than I planned.

"So what you're saying is..."I eyed the pharmacist warily "is that had that spider (or whatever it was) chewed on me a bit higher up...say near my neck or head...things may not have gone so well?"

"Exactly...the swelling could well have blocked your airway and and you could have died."

This is the part where I laughed...and as this was not my regular pharmacist so she knew nothing of all my other conditions and medication, the bemused look on her face only fed my mirth.

"I would definitely suggest you see your doctor and consider carrying an EpiPen."

An EpiPen...(unsubsidised in New Zealand so costing between $120 to $190 - with a shelf life of only 12-15 months) ...for my newly discovered, potentially fatal, allergy to an unknown biting thing.

I have pondered...mused even...about this over the last few days, and have decided I only have one thing to say at this point:

"Body?....COULD YA KNOCK IT OFF NOW!!!"