Falalalala and all that sort of carryon.....

Guess what time of year it is...

Oh you noticed.

So what gave it away? Was it the sudden influx of tinsel strangled trees that began loitering in every lounge room and business across the nation? Maybe it was the endless round of bell jangling Christmas songs on the radio....or perhaps it was the TV commercials.....the many, many, many TV commercials designed to guilt every parent alive into buying their children even more crap they don’t need.

The endless countdowns on Facebook don't exactly keep it a secret either

It's like a month of pure insanity and cortisol producing mayhem

All that fighting off of millions of other shoppers for bargains and car parks; that extra cool (not) dwindling of the bank account right before your very eyes; not to mention the planning of who’s going to be where and when and what the hell they will be fed....it’s not like that’s stressful at all.

Sheesh

But it’s not all bad news. I felt, as Tigress, it was my duty to my, possibly stressed out, readers to put a more positive spin on things, So here they are, The Tigress's 12 positives of a modern Christmas.

1, Ageism takes a break (sexism doesn’t, but ageism does), I mean when else is it cool to be old, fat and unshaven! Some guys must wait all year for this.

2, If you’re an Atheist, Hindu, Muslim, Jew, Buddhist or other Non standard Christian in the West you get a free holiday for no reason at all (shame we can’t pay for everyone’s religious hols but that would kinda screw the economy – though feel free to swipe December 25^th to celebrate whatever you like ....apparently the Christians did ;-))

3, Leftovers: ham and trifle for days, it’s fabulous.

4, No one expects you to diet. If you’re gonna fall off the wagon in a food consuming capacity, today is the day to do it, not a frown will be cast....they'll be too busy stuffing food in it.

5, Christmas lights (oh come on, who doesn't like Christmas lights?? GTFO à)

6, If you propose at Christmas, you'll never forget the date....well played.

7, You get a chance to buy small tokens of appreciation for people you kinda fancy without coming off as weird or intense.

8, Family dramas can be the inspiration for a book or movie plot

9, You can be thankful for having a small house: nowhere to put relatives, good excuse not to host the whole shebang, less space to clean up if you do.

10, If you live in a place where Christmas is in summer you get to point and laugh at all your northern friends freezing their asses off.

11, If the cat destroys your Christmas tree, at least it makes for an amusing Facebook video....not to mention the revenge of dressing said cat up as a reindeer and circulating that pic too.

12, Mistletoe.....whether over your head or in your back pocket, may it achieve the desired results ;-)

Happy holidays everyone <3 Bring on 2015!

The cat's got my tongue...

Good evening minions.

This is your ever omnipotent dark lord of the universe, Maximus, speaking.

I feel the time has come for me to voice my concern over recent events in the household and since no one in seems to be listening to a damn word I meow around here, I felt it was time to go public, vent my outrage and frustration as it were at the atrocities occurring within my very own domestic sphere.

But I have limited time. One of the humans may enter at any moment as the bindings were not that tight (there is only so much one can achieve with no thumbs).

It appears we have rodents, in fact we are positively INFESTED with the damn things (well there are at least two of them), but no one is lifting a single finger to do anything about them! I know I know, the health risks of vermin are terrible (preaching to the converted here) but it seems my humans care not a jot. In fact I feel they are even encouraging the little perpetrators’ presence!

I'll give them credit, the invasion did appear sudden (and hell only knows they scared the bejesus out of me when I first saw them) but it’s been over three weeks now for Cleo’s sake and they’re not even trying.

No traps have been set, nothing.

At first I thought perhaps the humans were simply afraid of the newcomers and did not know how to approach the situation. But the more I observe through the flywire the less I like what I see.

They’re into everything, including everything of MINE. They were on my climbing frame yesterday (the fact I rarely even acknowledge its presence is irrelevant, it’s still MINE). Armchairs: MINE, table chairs: MINE, table in the bedroom all MINE, MINE, MINE!

And they’re infesting the lot of it.

Even my own human ponged of the rank midgets the other day.

It seems all three infidels have succumbed to the intruders’ mind melding techniques, even the tallest one (he appears to be the Tom of the house) has been spotted cooing over the little whiskered wormballs. Though he has been somewhat of a suck up at the moment, he is simply not doing his job. He is just not home enough to instil the discipline and pest control this place so obviously needs.

It’s just not on.

And the little thugs are clearly illiterate, they cannot even understand basic hiss! I bare fangs and voice my staunch disgruntlement and all they do is look at me like I'm speaking dog. I would have thought “Sod off you flea ridden, daughters of Hades” would have been comprehendible in any language, but apparently not....

Argh, I all just too much....I feel I may need my smelling salts

*from elsewhere in the house*: “Max?”

Curses, the thumbed ones have escaped.

“MAX?! Where ARE you?!.....Oh My God! Get off there!!”

Shit...now I really gotta argh..aflqqawfsfbnv,n,m, *publish* ljkadjasbv!

To be continued.....

...........

It's all in the getting there

I thought I would give my computer a thrill last night and actually turn it off (I am a chronic ‘hibernator’ of my laptop you see), but I got rather a lot more than I bargained for when 15 windows updates later it finally allowed its fan to halt into silence.

Forgetting all of this I come leaping with joy and enthusiasm (well walking earnestly anyway) into the office room this morning to settle down to a hard write when I note that a wiggle of the mouse does not awaken my bear of a computer from its slumber.

“Oh that’s right I turned the damn thing off”, I mutter and immediately press the go switch.

Half an hour later (oh all right, it was only about 8 minutes, but it seemed like half an hour) my computer had finally finished updating, installing, testing, opening files, unpacking its toys, making its coffee and whatever the hell else it felt it needed to do before it would let me use it.

In the interim, I got to thinking....

Not so very long ago, this was standard practice....starting your computer and dialling up the Internet took ages and it was often a hit and miss affair at best. Merely sending an email was quite the achievement and as for downloading them...well...if someone sent all their wedding photos or something, it was very much your turn to make the coffee, drink it and go back for a second cup before the process was even halfway done.

But at the time we thought it was just brilliant. It is all, of course, relative.

When the Internet and email were new, we were fascinated with the concept of rocketing information across the ether and having it reach another person in a far off location within minutes, sometimes seconds. It was all most clever, except really we had been doing this for years via the old school methods of phone and fax.

And this is where stuff gets a bit interesting. While it is obvious that the Internet (developed in the 1950s and used successfully by the US Department of Defence under the name ARPANET in the 1960s) is the most recent of the technologies here, one would be forgiven for thinking that fax (facsimile) machines are a relatively new concept compared to the phone.

However...

According to the youngest sibling: the aforementioned Internet, Alexander Bain obtained a patent for his ‘Electric Printing Telegraph’ in 1843, Frederick Bakewell made several improvements on Bain's design and produced a telefax machine a little later, and by 1865, a dude called Giovanni Caselli had introduced the first commercial telefax service between Paris and Lyon. 

Some 11 years before Alexander Graham Bell was granted a patent for the telephone. 

Well who'da thunkit? 

Though the predecessor to all this carryon was of course the telegraph and while Samuel Morse patented his version of the invention in 1837 (inspired by hearing too late of his wife’s illness and death to be able to make it home in time for anything other than a visit to her gravestone), others around the globe had had their ears to the grindstone on various telegraphic devices since 1804.

And, while we’re at, it was Morse’s assistant, Alfred Vail, not Morse himself, who actually developed what became known as Morse Code.

Samuel Morse is also credited with saying, upon the opening of the telegraph line between Baltimore and the U.S. Capitol building: “What hath God wrought?” And that’s fine, coz he actually did that one.

So what were the options before that?

Pony Express?

Well that was actually around at the same time as the telegraph (in 1859 – 60 to be precise) but because the telegraph system was not yet widespread in America people were still in need of a way to transmit information fast and these guys got your message from one coast to the other in as little as 10 days. Which was mighty jolly quick in those days. 

Previous to that?

Well it’s been the same story for thousands of year....good old snail mail (though delivery methods have varied). Since almost the birth of writing, delivering information via ‘mail’, as it would come to be known, has been the most efficient way of letting those at a distance know what’s up. The first organized system of doing such is believed to have been in Egypt back when the Pharaohs needed to sling their weight around on frequent occasion and keep the plebs in line with a decree or three.

Prior to that of course, some poor sod had to either ride or walk to the neighbouring village/tribe and tell them personally what was happening on their end of the trail.

Primitive and painfully slow you may think, but at times I can see the merit in this method. Only really, really important information was transmitted. I really doubt someone would have wandered several miles merely to share a drawing of their dinner, or acquire an audience in order to recount the latest antics of the village idiot.

*stares blankly at her 50,000 unread emails....flicks to Facebook......scrolls through the day's posts*

And God knows what the Pharaohs would have made of all this malarkey

Though on the upside, I bet they would have got quite a kick out of the cat videos. :)

A clowder of cats

It is very difficult to be angry at a kitten.

Well unless you are a big white cat called Max, then you can be highly pissed off with no trouble at all. But on the assumption that you are humanoid....kittens are very hard to be miffed at and I should know because I now have two.

Yes, that’s right, the Kevman and I are now the proud adoptive parents of two wee tabbies that are just the most darling balls of fluff you ever did see. Borderline psycho, but darling nonetheless.

Though it was a somewhat unexpected adoption.

It all started some weeks back when we visited our mates’ place and couldn't help but comment on the plaintive wailing emanating from the neighbour’s property. Our friends were at their wits end with it and on that particular night (the third of the racket) decided to investigate. Thus the adventure began. What started as a date night with Jack Daniels turned into an assault course of roof climbing, fence dismantling and tunnelling under the edge of a neighbour’s junk shed to extract four abandoned kittens.

And cute little felines they were too, but after much cajoling on the part of our friends the Kevman remained steadfast that no new mogs were entering our house; especially ones that needed round the clock feeding and care.

Fast forward several weeks and whaddya know, someone has been having a wee cogitate and decides that some more feline presence is just what that household needs (and they reckon women are changeable!)

“I think I’ll give them a text so they can bring the kittens round and we can pick one.”

I took his forehead temperature with the back of my hand.

“Sure” I said evenly, careful not to intrude into his deep thought and message composition. I felt it unwise at this juncture to point out I'd be the poor shmuck left cleaning up after them most of the time as I had to admit I had become rather fond of the thought of a new kitty or two and didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the mission.

Sure enough, an hour later, around our friends came and then it was my turn to cajole: “But sweetie, they can keep each other company if we get two”

“Two!”

*sweetest smile*

*stern eyebrow*

*look that suggests he is the love of my life and I would never wish for anything ever again*

*defeated sigh*

And thus Merlot and Shiraz came into our lives.

And it’s been a smooth week all up. All the hard work has been done: they’re litter trained, healthy, playful and eat and drink like champions

Unfortunately Max (who belongs to the Kevman’s resident Gypsy Niece) is not nearly so enchanted. Upon sighting the new occupants of the house, his face contorted into a severe frown and he looked at us much like we had pooped in his food bowl. If a cat could say “What the f**k?!” that would have been about the time we would have heard it.

We have attempted a gentle introduction, but in a blur of fangs and fur he scarpered like a...well like a scalded cat really. He was not having a bar of it. The concept of sharing his bachelor pad with two juniors of the species is apparently not something that is coming naturally to him. In fact he gives the strong impression that he would rather peel his ears off with a blunt instrument than have anything further to do with them.

We could be up for some challenging times here (and no doubt a few more blogs), but in the meantime we are enjoying the pitter patter of tiny paws and the fact that they aren't heavy enough to break anything.

Yet.

It's all a bit crafty really....

It’s not that I have an addictive personality.....

Ok, I have an addictive personality

But it’s not like I mean to get absorbed in an activity for days on end. Time just sort of escapes me....scurries out the cat flap like a midnight ninja before I even have a chance to notice it was there.

But I have been using this escapee time productivity, I promise. I've been on a bit of a craft bent of late and anyone who has any sort of crafty inclinations will know where I'm heading with this.

First it was crochet....found some amazing wool, ‘boom’ a knee rug is born (perfect for a gift)
Thought about a shawl but then.....

Knitting: Hat, two scarves and halfway through a baby’s jersey (also perfect gifts)

But then I got a cross stitch idea

But I want to finish the jersey

But I got a really cool cross stitch idea!

And so the cross stitch phase begins. There is no controlling it I tell you, it’s like its own life form!

*Booming Godlike voice*: “You will craft or die!!”

“But the dishes need done....”

“Who cares! Thy needle shall not lay dormant!”

Like I’m gonna argue with the Craft God

Now as multi-talented as I may be, I can’t help but be aware of the fact that once upon a time many women used to dread this crap. “Come come, sit with your needle work, it’s not going to stitch itself now is it?” while they’re secretly sitting there yearning to go and poke some mofo with a sword or something much more exciting. But these days, after a day of physical and mental conquest, it’s more than therapeutic to sit down and quietly stab cloth and wool with sharp objects.

Saves on voodoo dolls.

And like the soup of a blog previous, I suspected there was quite the history to all this, though as it turns out, people have been making soup for a fair while longer than they have been cross stitching. The oldest cross stitch items are considered to be Celtic but the Egyptians were pretty keen on it too back in the day and many examples have been found buried in various tombs.

The oldest example found in the U.S of A is a sampler created by Loara Standish, daughter of Captain Myles Standish, and pioneer of the Leviathan stitch, circa 1653. (You can sleep tonight now you know that)

What I found a tad fascinating was that the two most common threads (DMC and Anchor) have been around since the 1800s! Well they must be doing something right.

Now the invention of the sewing machine in 1851, did put somewhat of a dent in the hand sewing habit but since the 1960’s it's been all go again. Even the young bods are getting into it and are bringing their modern tastes with them. In the UK, for example, one can now hang out at a “Stitch and Bitch” meeting, enjoying some stichery and a spot of hard core goss all at the same time.

Sounds pretty cool actually

What I was really curious about though (as one would expect with me) was how the gender divide was standing on this. While we are no doubt progressing in the content of the stitching....sugar skulls are now available alongside sunset scenes etc etc, are the guys busting out their needles and getting into a bit of stitch craft these days or is it still only the domain of the ovaried?

Well the stats aren't looking fabulous to be honest, but there are few guys entering the fold and one in particular is owning it nicely. So I'll leave you here with Jamie Chalmers, otherwise known as Mr X Stitch. Join him and his fellow crafters on his website or read a most excellent blog article about him on Urban Threads' StitchPunk site (both links below).

I, however, had better go...I feel an electricity in the air and my hands are starting to twitch

“Where is your needle?!”

All right, all right I’m going!

http://www.mrxstitch.com/workshops-presentations/

http://www.urbanthreads.com/blog/?p=6398

Pains in the arse...and other places...

Human beings do some pretty dumb shit at times.

And I'm not just talking about those who try to mimic their favourite YouTube stunt and consequently break their face off. It’s usually on a much simpler level than that.When it comes to our personal well-being, we’re just often not that bright.

While the diet and exercise industry makes a killing off our desires to ‘be healthy’ We don’t always pay attention to the other messages our body is sending. In fact “I'm fine” would have to be the biggest line of bullshit we feed the world (and ourselves half the time) and we really gotta knock that shit off. We often leave aches, pains, swellings, rashes, fatigue and digestive difficulties etc etc etc unattended until they really start to get stroppy...and thus make healing take twice as long.

And when we finally do go to a doctor we only do a half-arsed job of following what he or she says.

“I don’t like doctors” is a popular refrain here, the go to excuse when you really know you should go but just don’t wanna.

Ya know what, they’re probably not all that fond of you either...just putting it out there. They smile, they listen, they diagnose and they prescribe knowing full well you’re not going to take heed of the majority of health advice they give...rest, drink plenty of water etc.....hell, they'll be lucky if you even take the full course of tablets they prescribe at the times you’re supposed to.

 “I don’t like taking pills” Here we go again. My knee cap is falling off but stuffed if I'm taking any of those pills and anti inflammatory crap.

Hell no, why would you want to decrease the stress on your body that the pain and inflammation causes to make to make it heal faster. Just silly really.

And who needs to take the whole lot of those antibiotics; feel better after two days but the doc’s given you a whole week of the damn things. Yeah you do that buddy.... you stop taking them, so the bugs that remain have a chance to get stronger and make you sick again....and if you’re real lucky, they'll now be immune to the original anti-biotic and you'll need a stronger one, or better yet, there won’t be a stronger one which means you've CREATED A SUPERBUG!

Pleased with yourself?

Don’t get me wrong, some doctors aren't the best, they blatantly ignore nutritional options (whole ‘nother blog right there) and from what we hear about Big Pharma paying off the ones in America, well there is definitely cause for concern. But on the small scale, we got to do out bit.

For example, if your vision’s a bit dodgy and you’re feeling rather faint...get your ass to a doc. You've probably just got a vitamin or mineral deficiency but they’re just the people to be able to tell you which one you’re lacking. Failing that you could indeed have brain cancer but smaller tumours are easier to remove than big ones so either way, early detection is probably a good thing

In short there are a few things to watch for that will give you a good indication of when it is medical professional time.

According to several websites, they are as follows

     
1) New symptoms that have come about either suddenly or gradually but worsening. Things such as headaches or stomach pain that is very occasional and relatively mild is probably nothing to be too concerned with. The same things that suddenly appear and quite severely or gradually worsen over time are sufficient to sent you to the local medic for a once over and maybe some tests.

        
2) Common cold and flu symptoms, particularly coughing, that last more than two to three weeks. Colds and flu can sometimes be quite intense, but should sod off again once they have done their biz. If this doesn't happen then it is time for medical input to perhaps check for bacterial infection, immune system deficiencies or other problems.

3) Vomiting and diarrhoea continuing for several days and/or accompanied by blood where it shouldn't be and signs of dehydration (such as very dry mouth and armpits, confusion, and decreased urination). Green or black vomit is doc worthy as well (I didn't even know you could vomit in those colours.).

4) Pain or discomfort that stops you living your life normally or performing certain regular activities. Yes you may just me an unfit sod, but you should be able to get fit if you so desire without pain stopping you. So go get it sorted.

5) Anything that affects your breathing or swallowing as well as chest pain. Kind of a no brainer don’t you think.

6)  Psychological difficulties that are not going away. It’s ok to feel sad and negative sometimes, it’s not ok to feel sad and negative for six months, get help. If you find your moods often shift dramatically, you are addicted to certain substances or behaviours with negative consequences or that you have marked anxieties and/or difficulties in social situations, this may also be an indicator of a larger condition or imbalance in hormones and/or brain chemistry. Telling someone is important, it does not mean you are a wimp, it means you are onto it enough to know that something isn't right or that you are no longer in control of the situation and you need the professionals on the job. Just do it. Trust me on this.

This is not an exhaustive list. Basically, if something doesn't feel right, just go, especially if you have previously had a major condition, such as cancer, or the patient is elderly or a child.

And follow up for God’s sake. If the medicine doesn't work or you develop new symptoms...back you go. Some things take a bit of trial and error to work out. Your doctor is not a diagnostics computer that converts symptoms into basic error messages. He or she is human and has to work it out the hard way.

The easy thing is to start the investigation on time...that’s something we can all get smarter at.

Some soup for the soul...

I have a million things I would like to write about this week but, well, this Tigress is feeling a bit tatty round the edges to be honest....just a tad under the weather. And tempting though it is to distribute my thorough disdain for certain affluent socialites following their ass being shoved in my face via social media all week....I shall resist.

For now.

So consequently much of my time today has been allocated toward napping and making soup. It seems that one can’t go past an all inclusive meaty broth to comfort thyself during times of duress....or whenever you’re just feeling generally pathetic, a phenomenon I have comprehensively covered right at the moment.

Thus I got to wondering, as I do, about just how long this practice had been going on for. As it turns out....people have been seeking solace in the soup pot for quite a while now

According to my chums at gourmetrecipe.com, soup came on the scene about 6000 BC....probably due to the development of waterproof containers in which to boil it. After that it kinda just kept on developing.

The word soup, so I'm told, comes from the French soupe ("soup", "broth"), which, in turn, comes through Vulgar Latin suppa ("bread soaked in broth") from a Germanic source, from which also comes the word "sop", a piece of bread used to soak up soup or a thick stew.

Glad they came up with something to call it. Could you just imagine: “Oh hey, come over for some noms, I'm making my famous boiled water with carrots, onions, potatoes, pumpkins and half a cow in it, you'll love it”

Menus would be a nightmare.

Speaking of eateries, even ‘restaurants (literally translated: 'food that restores")’ were originally set up (in 1765 Paris) to only sell soup: “an antidote to physical exhaustion” Cured all your ills and half your neighbours as well apparently.

So even historically, soup was the shiz

Well all except for that “Black Soup” concoction that the Spartans ate, made from boiled pig’s legs, blood, salt and vinegar. From all accounts that shit was just nasty.

But for the most part, soup scoffing seems to have been a pleasant activity enjoyed by many and in modern times we now have whole cookbooks devoted to the subject. With contributions from nearly every country, it can become quite the culinary travelogue:  borscht from Russia, consommé from France, Bird’s nest soup from China...

And some lesser known ones...

For example, in Pakistan there is Chakna (or "chaakna"), a spicy stew made out of goat tripe and other animal digestive parts.

Yum...

The Polish dig soup made from fresh or picked cucumbers.

While in Turkey no one would bat an eyelid at being served Analı Kızlı, which literally translates to 'with daughters and mothers' (the daughters being the chickpeas and the mothers being the little semolina balls).

Who knew soup could be quite so.....weird.

But as much fun as I'm having researching the predecessors and faraway kith and kin to my dinner, I had best go forth and consume it before I waste way to mere shadow of my former self.

Ok, that ain’t gonna happen but I am keen on testing the whole ‘antidote to physical exhaustion’ theory

All in the name of research, and you know how I love my research.