Halloween hero
Don’t know about you, but this is my kind of guy…
… Especially if they are chocolate cakes!
Have a spooktacular Halloween – if you celebrate it.
Not my pumpkin, I’m afraid – but one the Internet carved in between pushing bytes here and there.
And with this costume, I’m sure you’ll have a bowl! (Geddit? Bad joke…)
Because not everyone wants to get dressed up as a pumpkin or a monster this year…
Overheard: Thanks, Dolly!
American TV programmes are very educational … it seems.
Cue: the anklebiters are role-playing an episode of Hannah Montana, where Dolly Parton plays the grandmother.
They are using walkie-talkies. #1 is upstairs and #2 downstairs.
#1: Crackle! Buzz! Shock! The walkie-talkies don’t work, but that doesn’t stop the kids from shouting to each other.
#2 – my son (listening intently): NO! I don’t want your fizzy balls.
Pause
I’ve got my own!
Pause
#1: But grandma’s fizzy balls are even better!
Thanks Dolly for that! Bath bombs will never be the same again in this household… As someone once said about America and Britain: We are divided by our common language.
Colours on my mind
The weather has been grey – both within and without.
But then I decided to open my eyes, to look out and seize the beauty of a moment or two.
To drink in this glorious blaze before the fade, where trees rise up from golden pools of light like graceful girls with flaming red hair.
I walked on the golden carpet, focused inwards… Then I looked up and saw I was surrounded by a halo of light, a tunnel of friendly leaves.
So, drink in the colours, apply the balm to your soul and celebrate the autumn – which blazes so magnificently as it slowly fades away.
For more great posts, please visit: That’s My World!
Inside our shells
Have you ever wondered what the snail does inside its house?
Does it store its dreams and hopes there? Does it keep its love inside delicately striped shell?
Does it withdraw inside itself when cold winds blow? And is it a safe place in which to withstand the assaults of time and life?
We too build up our defenses, our houses to protect ourselves.
And just like the snail, our shells are delicate – easily crushed by an action or a careless word.
In your next encounter with snail or person, take a moment to cherish the beauty and complexity of the lovely shells we all carry.
For more animal encounters, please visit: Pet Pride!
Making fun out of rubbish
A couple of weeks ago, I brought to your notice – in the form of stairs being transformed into piano keys – a new theory called The Fun Theory, which investigates how making something more enjoyable can change behaviour for the better.
Take littering, for example. How many times have you seen someone just carelessly throwing away wrappers on the ground even when there is a litter bin nearby? Is it possible to make people actually want to pick up litter just because the bin makes a sound? Can it really be that simple?
Apparently – the answer is yes.
And although the novelty might wear off in a few weeks, perhaps this could be solved by having a number of random noises coming from the bin. And, in the long run, this might be enough to change our patterns of behaviour.
I hope so – because anything else would be… well … rubbish!
Enjoying the moment
Just imagine that you are at one of those shelters I talked about last week. Drinking your hot chocolate, warming your hands by the fire, gazing out over the water.
And, if you happen to be our dog, then nothing - not the greyness of the sky nor the cold temperatures – will stop you from enjoying the moment.
For more great captures, please visit: That’s My World!
Quackers!
It’s a cool autumn weekend.
Tensions are running high.
An occasional honk is heard as the players warm up – stretching muscles, getting into a huddle for last-minute instructions.
It’s time for the local soccer championships…
…..
…..
…..
And this is the local team!
For more crazy animals, please visit: Pet Pride!
Derailed continued
How to panic in style… a continuation of the story I started yesterday. (Just scroll down – it’s the post before this one. You can thank me later for making you exercise your fingers.)
So there I was – alone on a cold platform – with the knowledge that the train on which I had left my rucksack would be thundering past without stopping at our little station…
I phoned Sir Pe in … yes, you guessed it! … a panic. “You have to drive me to the next station! NOW” I said in dulcet tones screamed down the phone. The kids were rounded up, their evening meal unfinished, and thrown into the car. Sir Pe picked me up and we dashed to the next station.
A train drew up and I ran through the compartment looking for my rucksack.
Nothing.
I ran down the platform, still half-bawling, half-mad (it’s a fetching look and highly appropriate for the upcoming Halloween season) and, without any difficulty, managed to attract the conductor’s attention.
“Your backpack? Is it red and green? Don’t worry – I’ve got it!”
“You’re an angel!” I gushed as he unlocked the room on the train where he had stashed my offending bag. “You’ve saved me! Thank you.”
“It’s all part of the service,” my angel smiled, brown eyes twinkling in a face that has seen far more than this.
“I just want you to know that you’re still an angel!” I cried, resisting the temptation to throw my arms around his cheerful round body.
So there you have it: what a week and it was only Monday. A day in which I lost my luggage and my mind, and was saved by an angel, a knight in shining armour and two small side-kicks.
My luggage has been restored to me… So that leaves only one question.
Have you seen my mind?
Derailed
It was a hell of a week. And it was only Monday…
It all started off with a bit of bad news, a lunch in which garlic was the starter, main course and dessert (more about that later) and a bad haircut. Fortified by these three factors, I sighed in relief as I waited at the platform for the homeward bound tram. I ran across our next-door neighbour (don’t worry – she wasn’t hurt) and we boarded the train together. I placed my laptop at my feet and stowed away my rucksack containing books, money and credit cards in the gap between the seats.
We launched ourselves into a deep discussion about life and school as the scenery flashed by. Before we knew it, the tram arrived at our stop and we got off. After only a couple of minutes, I realized that my back felt as empty as my brain obviously was… Now, where was that backpack with my entire life in it?
Ah yes – on the train thundering northwards.
I blame my neighbour for making me chat too much – because if I don’t blame her, then who else would I blame? … Precisely!
Luckily I had my phone with me so was able to contact the lost luggage division. Who informed me that the train driver only had a radio and couldn’t be contacted.
I arrived home in a mad state: bad haircut sticking up as if electrocuted by my panic, wild look in my eyes. I briefly explained what had happened and Sir Pe said that I could either come in and get warm and hope that my bag turned up at Lost Luggage the next day – or panic.
I did what any sensible person would do: decided to go for the full-blown panic.
I ran back to the station, half-sobbing and half-muttering to myself (see – I can multitask as well as the next nutter!) and waited for the train to come back.
The first train that arrived was not the train I had ridden on. Then I realized that my train would be going back to Stockholm as the fast train and wouldn’t be stopping at our tiny station.
What now?
So, what do you think happened?
This story will be continued tomorrow…
Shelter
There is a lot of space in Sweden – and in that space, you can find all sorts of hiking trails criss-crossing the countryside.
These trails offer good walking, stunning scenery and resting places for the weary hiker.
You can rest your tired head in the shelters, which are usually equipped with free firewood, tables and a fireplace around which you can roast your hot dogs and warm your hands.
And sometimes – these shelters provide a little more …
… a private lake for a swimming dog (can you see him?), a serene view and an oasis for the thirsty soul.
You’ll find more spas for the soul at: That’s My World!
A coat of autumn colours
Oscar is our working golden retriever. He comes into his own during the autumn.
His coat of fur the smell of fresh frost and the colour of crackling autumn leaves.
A blazing sunset coat of colour that matches the floor of a silent, leafy forest path.
A glowing jewel – a ruby perhaps? – to brighten up the dusk.
For more furry pets, please visit: Pet Pride.
Joy as an agent of change
As Roy Blitzer once said, “The only person who likes change, is a wet baby.” And the strange thing is that while we resist change, it is the only constant (apart from death and taxes, of course).
Bizarrely enough, the car company Volkswagen is giving out money to people (in Sweden) to see if pure enjoyment can change the way we behave. They call it ‘the theory of having fun’. In other words, they believe that the easiest and most pleasant way of helping us change for the better is through happiness.
One experiment set out to see if people would throw their rubbish in a bin if it brought a smile to their lips. When you throw rubbish into this special bin, it goes ‘weeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeeeee’ and then bonk. (That’s the sound of the rubbish falling a long way down and then hitting the bottom of what they named ‘the world’s deepest rubbish bin’.) The result was that 72 kilos of rubbish was put in the bin during one day. That’s 41 kilos more than the rubbish put in a nearby ‘ordinary’ bin.
In another experiment, the brains behind the test wanted to encourage people to take the stairs instead of the moving escalator. Did they succeed? Yes! A whopping 66% more people used the stairs that day. And they had a lot of fun doing so, as you’ll see from this short video.
So next time you want to persuade someone to do something for you – or if you want to change the world (or just that smelly nappy): then remember that bringing joy into the lives of others will help you on your way!
Through frosted glasses
September became October and offered the early riser a perfect lawn of lacy grass.
Crunchy frostiness underfoot. Tingling fingers encased in long-forgotten gloves.
The ghostly ground veiled in white offered the perfect contrast to the rich colours of trees and house.
A tree laden with rowan berries – a harbinger of a snowy winter. Peeking through the branches, a shy farm displays its new roof of frost, as if to say: At last! Autumn is here!
For more glimpses of the world around us, visit: That’s My World!
Is that what I think it is?
If you think this is a huge dough left to rise on the forest floor… I’ll let you into a secret.
It isn’t.
If, on the other hand, you’re leaning close to your screen, sloshing that coffee in your hand, and thinking …
“Oh my! Is that – poo?” Then the answer is: Bingo!
In fact, it’s horse dung, lying on a path in the woods. And look – can you see those shiny dung beetles?
I was so excited (I don’t get out much) to see big holes and tunnels in the horse poop, and the dung beetles scuttling around busily. While they go around munching on breakfast, they aerate the tunnels, attract worms to the dung (you can even see one in the photo peeking its head out of the stuff) and play a very significant part in helping to break down the dung and return it to nature.
You see, I always thought dung beetles lived in Africa and pushed balls of dung up hills, or only appeared as cute supporting characters in Ice Age films. In fact, you can find dung beetles on every continent except Antarctica.
I’ve just discovered that several Swedish dung beetle species are threatened. You know what that means – right? We need more cow pats and horse dung!
Before you poo-poo this post (but not literally, I hope), I’d like to point out that to the Egyptians, several species of dung beetle were sacred and they were often called ‘the sacred scarabs’.
So, next time you step in some poop, give a quick thought to these humble – yet once revered – members of the dung community!
For more appetizing posts, please visit: Pet Pride.
This is just to say: It’s not silly – it’s … er … poetry?
Jenners over at Life with a Little One has a wicked sense of humour and she loves challenging us! Our mission – if we accept it – is to write our own mixed-up version of this famous William Carlos Williams’ poem:
This Is Just To Say
How to stop traffic
I normally walk to school to fetch the kids, but a couple of days ago, I drove there as I was taking them to 4H.
It was the first cool day of autumn, with a slight frost that morning, and a wild wind whipping up a disco of fallen leaves. So, there I was innocently driving along when I grabbed the gear stick to feel something … strange under my fingers. Something that was squishy in a very unpleasant way, like eyeballs, and something that scrabbled at my fingers with creepily feather-like movements.
I looked down. It was a wasp. A very sleepy wasp as the weather was too cold for it to feel perky and fly up my nostrils.
I did what any sane person would do: I screamed loudly (imagine 100 on the Richter Scale of Screams) in the hopes that it would fall down dead of a heart attack. (It didn’t – but the dog’s fur stood up on end.)
In fact, my scream seemed to invigorate the wasp. It had realized that it wouldn’t be able to sting my fingers so it flew onto my seat and burrowed under my butt – obviously going for a bigger and softer target.
I braked madly. On a pedestrian crossing. And jumped out, leaving the door open. Cars piled up behind the car and then cautiously overtook me as I stood there in the middle of the road, doing a wild Dervish dance.
Just as I was calming down, and thanking my lucky stars that no one I knew had seen my little display, a car pulled up. The window was wound down and my neighbour wanted to know what the problem was.
“Oh, I was locked in the car with a mad wasp on a stinging mission,” I said felt like saying.
“Just a wasp” I replied with a cool calm that I didn’t feel.
Before getting in again, I used the car brush to sweep the seats in case it was still lurking.
But it had flown away – no doubt rubbing its legs with glee at the thought of its successfully accomplished mission.
I said I’d tell you how to stop traffic; I didn’t say you would be doing it gracefully.
Who says what?