for the love of dogs, travel and plant – based food…
As we travel through life, we find many who walk beside us and share our journey. Some stay a moment, some stay a lifetime. And in that lifetime, there are lessons.
Lessons of love, lessons of laughter and lessons of loyalty.
My journey with Oscar and Stanley is just that: a lesson in love, laughter and above all, loyalty.
When settling into your seat to watch the flight attendant deliver the safety demonstration, have you ever thought about what life is like for that flight attendant?
Maybe you haven’t. Or then again, maybe you have. And if so you may have thought how they must truly travel in one of life’s fast lanes. Paris one week, Rome the next. Lazing on a Thai beach before curling up in fresh, crisp sheets on a king size bed in a 5 star hotel. Sounds like a dream right?
From someone who travelled in that lane for close to 25 years, it was life in the fast lane, or as we sometimes said, ‘we live the life of a millionaire, without spending any money – pretty much flying in a nutshell. Well the good bits anyway.
I enjoyed lagers in London, parties in Paris and slings in Singapore. And aside from enjoying the wonderful perks of a high flying job, being a flight attendant was also exciting, rewarding and at times, very humbling.
Sipping caprioskas whilst watching a Roman sunset is exciting. Watching snowflakes float amidst the skyscrapers of New York, before claiming the soil of Ground Zero as their final resting place, as did some 2000 souls on 9/11, is humbling. And seeing a child totally enthralled by the fact that you, the flight attendant have captured clouds in a teapot, is rewarding. (Dry ice + water = instant clouds).
But being a flight attendant can also be very comical.
For instance, try telling an Indian man that the sanitary napkin you gave to the woman sitting next to him was something he really didn’t need? My words were to no avail as his reply, with a swift roll of his head went a little like this. ‘No, I’ll be thinking you’ll be not understanding me madam, I’ll be saying that I’ll be wanting what she is having’ as his head again rolled from side to side. I repeated my words, but they were in vain for he seemed relentless in his pursuit, so in the end I gave up and gave him his much needed package, and as I passed it over I wondered just what he would do with the contents. On my next walk through the cabin, my question was answered. There he was, sitting ever so proudly, with a very large, very white sanitary napkin firmly placed across his eyes! He had peeled off the adhesive label and quite obviously decided that this strange white object was the latest design in airline eye masks. At that moment, between holding back fits of laughter, I was so thankful that he didn’t discover the little white numbers that were housed in the same package and decide to use them as ‘earplugs’.
Flying truly was a beautiful blend of the good, the bad and the downright ridiculous. And for those of you who have aspirations to try life in that fast lane, I strongly encourage it.
I lived in that lane for many years, and loved it. Then I began to question which lane was really the more important one to travel in, fast or family?
So now instead of sipping cappuccinos in Rome, seeing rhinos in the wilds of Africa and waking to the sounds of street hawkers in Singapore, I now wake to the sounds of my beautiful children starting the day and my beloved dogs panting excitedly and the prospect of going for their daily walk.
Yes, I was hostie and I lived in the fast lane and loved it.
I’ve not had much time to devote to WordPress of late for I’ve begun a new chapter or maybe I could say, snapshot of my life. After many, many years serving the masses in a silver tube, I’ve hung up my wings and entered the world of ESL teaching. And with that has come study, and lots of it. This teaching gig is tough, in some ways tougher than doing my journalism degree. Or maybe I’m just out of sync with study – need to retrain the brain.
But I did take some time yesterday to look at some snapshots, some snapshots of my life. I smiled, I laughed and I cried as I reminisced over special times with special people.
Have you ever stopped to look at the ‘snapshots’ of your life? Looked at images that evoked memories?
My snapshots?
My beautiful children, my amazing family, my incredible friends… I have been lucky to have lived an amazing life so far: travelled to incredible places, experienced irreplaceable moments and loved by beautiful people. Near front row seats at the World Cup, cocktails on a rooftop bar in Capetown, shaking hands with famous people who made a difference, safaris in Africa, white xmas’s,European holidays with my fabulous niece and sons and being able to say I love you to those I love.
Sometimes we think life can deal us a cruel hand: sometimes it does, but look closely at the snapshots, you’ll see that life is what it is: beautiful, sad, funny, frustrating, but mostly, it’s full of love.
To the amazing people who have made my lifes’ snapshots so far, so incredibly beautiful – Merry Christmas to you all and most of all, stay safe, stay happy and stay smiling for your snapshots… xoxo
At times taking a backward step can be similar to putting on a comfortable pair of shoes. A sense of familiarity prevails and when you first start walking you feel good, happy and glad you returned to what sits well. But after a while blisters start to form, negativity manifests and you wonder why you ever chose to wear what you thought had once fit perfectly.
That is when you realise it’s time to throw those old shoes away and start anew.
So you run barefoot.
Into the new.
Across hard stones.
Only to find yourself standing comfortably.
Maybe there are a few scratches, maybe it hurts a little, but the overwhelming feeling is one of joy and contentment. Contentment in knowing you have shed those shoes, and you realise they no longer fit.
You. The person you are and the person you have always needed to be.
I now walk barefoot without need for a new pair of shoes.
I’m just walking.
Barefoot and free…
It’s been said that one should never work with children or animals and from my experience, I tend to agree. When editing my last post Travel themes; Red, I had a giggle to myself thinking about how difficult that shot was to take. Now obviously there were no animals or children in the shot, but what went on behind the scene was a very different story.
I set up the shot for a proportion assignment I was doing in my Dip Photoimaging course. I figured the capsicum and or fruit would look kind of cool in the miniature trolley and would demonstrate the photographic element of proportion. So with different coloured cardboard on hand to create a cyclorama, I placed the props where I wanted and proceeded to take some test shots.
Enter Stanley.
Yep, you guessed it, just as I thought I had the perfect shot his lordship saunters onto the ‘set’. And as he’s not one to want to miss out and more particularly having the need to be in my presence 24/7, he felt it his job to make sure I had set up correctly. So he sniffed and licked, sniffed again then proceeded to plonk himself down next to the trolley and in doing so, knocked it over and sent the apple rolling away and in a flash was off in hot pursuit. Now I’m quite sure there are many dog lovers among us who probably feel as I do that our 4-legged friends would speak if they could and in the moment I just described had Stanley been able to voice his thoughts, it may have gone a little like this.
‘Oops, sorry mum, it’s all good, I’ll get it’, and off he bounced and on his return deposited the now mildly mangled apple complete with slobber and dribble back onto the cardboard, thus creating a very different effect. Feeling very pleased with himself and the fact he was obviously a great help he began wagging his tail frantically, which connected with the apple, which in turn sent it rolling all over the cardboard leaving mangled apple goo in its wake. Some may have become angry, but not me as I was too busy laughing at my loveable fuzzy faced friend whose only crime, so to speak, was to help. So I simply exchanged the soiled yellow cardboard for a crisp, clean white one and shot off more images whilst Stanley watched from a more prop friendly vantage point; the couch.
Ah animals, you gotta love ’em.
I thought I’d dedicate today’s post, which I wrote last year to my beloved Kiri aka Sausage, who passed away last December. She is missed but when thought of, brings smiles to the faces of those who loved her.
For those of you who love your four-legged friends, I hope you get a giggle from this little ditty.
For most dogs the rattling of a lead, or the mention of the word walk, sends them into a wild frenzy. Some do circles, some bark excitedly, while others run for the front door before you get a chance to change your mind.
Not Sausage. The mere mention of that filthy word was enough to send her high tailing it back to her sleeping bag, slip through the opening, bury herself at the end and not be seen. After all she believed that if she couldn’t see you, then it was very obvious you couldn’t see her.
I tried to get her excited about a walk, to no avail. I once tempted her with a piece of cheese, one of her great loves, which got the lead on and us both out the door, but a few hundred metres down the road she stopped and no amount of pulling, dragging and kind loving words would budge her. Nope, and living in fear of the neighbours reporting me to the RSPCA for cruelty at seeing me pull a small, grey fuzzy and extremely stubborn little dog down the road, I resorted to carrying her. Once in my arms, I was showered with slurps, not a particularly pleasant experience as Saus’s breath was questionable to say the least.
She may not have liked walks, but she still loved to get out of the house. Remember I mentioned about dogs’ who go into a frenzy at a mere rattle of the lead? Apart from cheese, a mere rattle of the car keys saw Sausage in a frenzy and for one with little short legs, she could cover some serious ground with lightening speed when the mood suited. Once at the car, there was then the ritual of getting in. For some reason unbeknown to us humans she’d only get in from the driver’s side and as she was short, getting in was a two step process. Firstly, a few moments of rocking back and forth on her haunches, similar to a high jumper working up to the big jump was performed, followed by swift forward leap onto the floor and as she’d become quite good at this manoeuvre, she always avoided injury on the pedals by ensuring her landing was precise.
Once there, another few moments of rocking preceded a deft leap onto my seat then one final leap over the centre console saw her finally sitting proudly on the left hand passenger seat, a place I’m sure she felt was hers and hers alone.
If the boys had friends in the car and in her seat, she’d throw herself on the floor and as a mark of disgust, pant her fish-infused breath in their direction. But the madness in all of this was that once we reached our destination, she’d run for cover under the seat, as no way would she get out and walk anywhere. Following was a perfect example.
Living on the Sunshine Coast, home to some of Australia’s most beautiful beaches, the boys decided a late afternoon bodyboard was in order. Of course the moment the keys were rattled, Sausage was at the back door before the rest of us had even made it down the stairs. And on that afternoon she did just that and looked very pleased and contented as we drove to the beach.
On arrival, I smiled at her sweetly as she eyed me suspiciously from her special spot (there were no friends in residence). I held up the lead and with that she launched a perfect dive bomb under the seat, which in turn lead to me having to find the best grip in order to manipulate her firmly wedged little body out from under the seat.
Of course amid this madness, the boys’ were egging me on with shouts of, ‘come on mum,, you can do it’!
I finally won the battle, placed the lead around her neck and set off to the beach, although not accompanied by the sound of little paws walking alongside. Nope, she was in my arms, and if dogs could actually smile, I believe hers would have been wider than the Grand Canyon. And as we sat watching the boys surf, and although she would never have admitted it, secretly I think she quite enjoyed lazing on the boys’ towels, watching other dogs walk along the beach.
In contrast though, he says, a walk? Yes please, but I’ll also take the car! 🙂
I said a sad farewell tonight. For those of you who cherish real friendship, you will understand my heartache.
A special woman who has shared many moments with me is jetting off tomorrow, to see where the world takes her.
She is special, she is beautiful, she is strength personified, but more than anything, she is a friend and one whose presence in my everyday world, I shall miss. Terribly.
I’ve not thought about it until now, funny how we do that. We tend to think we will be ok, but when the reality of a moment sets in, we know we are not ok.
I will miss her.
We do not live in each other’s proverbial pockets, but we are masters in the ability to dissect our problems and we have spent hours analyzing where life should or would take us. Over countless bottles of wine we have solved the world’s problems while strumming guitars that give melody to well thought out lyrics that only we can understand.
We know. We hear.
That is friendship.
I will miss that.
Travel safe my friend and continue to share your wondrous journey, for through your words and ‘Kevin’ I shall travel it with you.
If you want to travel with her, follow Ames @ a lifetime of lessons
xoxo
If you’re thinking of buying acreage, here’s a little warning, give it serious thought. You may well ask why, but a purchase of this type requires garden maintenance and the easiest way to do this is with the use of a ride-on mower.
How this could be a problem? Read on.
I was once in possession of acreage and one sunny morning I noticed the grass needed attention. My teenage son was primarily in charge of this job, but he was away that weekend so I figured I would do it for him.
So sitting proudly atop my ride-on mower, I felt quite pleased with myself. I say proudly because it had taken me the best part of 30 minutes to get this motorised monster to roar into life.
Why, I hear you ask? Simply because the mechanical beast in question had aged considerably and the starter battery once the source of very quick and effective ignition, had died long ago.
Sheer brute strength and frantic pulling of a rip style cord was now required to get this reluctant machine to perform. Having achieved that part of the ritual, I had to be quick for in order to feed the beast a rusty lever had to be pushed forward to continue the flow of fuel otherwise the beast would starve and if that happened, it would splutter, spit and finally stop causing the whole
back-breaking performance to be repeated.
As luck would have it I was swift and I was soon bouncing off down the road to begin the task. After about 20 minutes of chomping, slicing and devouring a fair chunk of land, my confidence had grown. Zipping around orange, apple and lime trees, ploughing through overgrown weeds and ripping through dead roots, I was feeling quite daring. Spotting a cluster of grass that was strangling a dying tree; I set off to the rescue. However this rescue was going to be tricky as the tree in question grew on a slope and would require some deft footwork of the combined brake, reverse and accelerator pedal to keep myself and my machine from rolling uncontrollably down the hill. But of course that was not going to be a problem, as I knew exactly how to handle this machine, or so I thought.
Off I scurried down the hill and manoeuvring my machine with precision and panache, I sliced through the offending grass. Nearing the end of my mission, I reversed down the slope to get the best vantage point for a final burst that would see the killer grass finally end its murderous ways.As I slammed down the accelerator, freshly churned soil flew into the air as my wheels were forced into action. This action was my downfall for as my wheels spun, they lost traction and before I could act, I started sliding backwards down the hill. No longer having a man around the house I was not in the position to scream like a banshee in the hope of being rescued, instead there was only Sausage who would hear my bellowing. And for those who don’t know Sausage, she was my beloved dog (she has since passed away) and a rather small one at that, so any hope of rescue from her was out of the question. Then panic set in for rather than push my heal downward, which would have powered the brake action, I pushed forward causing my mower to thrust backwards at incredible speed. Fearing death and realising no help was at hand, I took evasive action. I had to get off this mad beast and fast. In my haste to dismount my right shoelace became entangled with the seat, which left me to hop frantically on my other leg alongside a backward moving, mad mower.
Suddenly I could see the headline flash before my eyes.
“MAD MOWER MURDERS MOTHER”!
I screamed (all in vain I might add) ‘stop, stop, you mad mower’, but did it listen? No, it just kept on rolling without a thought for my safety, and in the midst of this madness Sausage watched with great interest, probably wondering why I had chosen to mow in such a stylish yet awkward manner.
Thankfully rescue was forthcoming, but not by Sausage or some macho male who heard my screams. No, my saviour was a large tree that halted my descent just as the Beast and my now mildly mangled right leg were destined for extinction.
Hallelujah I gushed as I freed my leg from the jaws of the mad mower, but sadly it was that moment Sausage decided she could help, and not seeing her small grey shape, over I went. Not one to be easily offended, Sausage took this opportunity (seeing I was now at her level, flat on my back on the freshly cut grass) to shower me with a few swift fish-breath infused slurps.
So there I was, now not so proudly lying beside a still roaring mower while a delighted and very smelly sausage dog showered me with love and affection. Removing Sausage from my face I pushed and heaved until the reluctant mechanical beast was back on even ground.
Later, as I stood on my verandah with a glass of wine in hand, and a blood soaked bandage wrapped tightly my leg, I realised ride-on mowers are to be treated with respect.
So heed this warning unsuspecting and prospective gardeners: never underestimate the ride-on mower, they can be very dangerous creatures and need to be handled with care!
There is something to be said for routine.
With having made a positive change in my life, I am now a silent and content witness to watching life unfold, as it does for many, with routines that are complete and solid in nature.
Free to now shape my own routine, I see with clear eyes the routine of others.
He walks with bowed legs, his crooked stick aiding those crooked legs. His smile wide and giving, shining its light upon those who share his morning. His worn cap, frayed yet loved is tipped ever so slightly, his silent acknowledgment of my presence with his.
He runs, panting, sensing and sniffing his well travelled path. A worn tattered rope connected to her, keeps him close and without flight. She too smiles and bids me good morning.
They are there, sharing with me my new routine. This routine I embrace for I am now a participant in a world I was too often absent.
As I walk, regret for having chosen this path does not walk alongside me. There is simply happiness and fulfillment at having chosen to make a life that is reflective of who I am, and who I have always needed to be.
stanley & bear 