NO AGE LIMIT FOR LOVE

This week for a change I have decided to accept a contributor to my blog, and I hope you will give him a warm welcome.

His name is Ulysse, he is nearly sixteen and already has a lot of charm and talent.

If you are looking for funny annecdotes, I guess the one he will tell you right now will make you crack a smile. Enjoy!

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Hi everybody,

First off, thank you Perky for your sweet introduction.

A lot of charm and talent? Maybe, but when I meet people, what they first say is that they like my clownish face. That's a part of my power of seduction.

Do I use it to seduce girls?

Till last week, never!

But last week, while having a walk in the surroundings, I came across a girl and it was love at first sight!

She is absolutely fabulous : curly hair, sparkling dark eyes, straight long legs, and, jeez, what a voice!!

Unfortunately, my parents don't approve of our relationship. 

They say that is not for boys of my age, and that, anyway, she is not my type!! How can they know??

Anyway, a few  days ago, just before dinner, I didn't ask for permission, and left home to visit my sweetheart.

It was pitch dark, and as I am not used to strolling along the streets by myself at that time, I was feeling a bit scared, but when there is a will, there is a way.

When I arrived in front of her house, I started singing her favourite tune. She immediately came to the gate (of course, locked cause her parents are as naughty as mine), and sang with me.

I was on cloud nine, it was just a kind of remake of Romeo and Juliet.

Suddenly we were dazzled by a flashing light, and guess who was holding it! MY MUM!!

She shouted : 

" You're a bad boy! I was worried sick. Fortunately, I heard your voice 

   in the far distance, and I immediately knew where you had gone!

   Now stop your serenade, otherwise the neighbours will make a noise

   complaint".

And then, she put a leash on me and dragged me back home.

A leash? Oops ,sorry, I have forgotten to tell you I am a  dog. It is true I am 16 years old, but 16 in human years means 80!

Is 8O too old for love?

Please, if you see my sweetheart (a gorgeous Welsh terrier), tell her that I'm cooped up, but I'm crazy about her, and I make no bone about it!

PS : by the way, my mum is this blog's owner, so if you want to plead my case, your comments may help the star-crossed lover I am!  Thanks in advance!

THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK

This week just a short post to ask you for help.

I am not used to, but last Saturday I made such a fool of myself that I really need all your tips to clear my image.

There was a lecture about the harmful effects of chemical pesticides on environment and health, and I decided to attend it.

At the end of the lecture, questions were encouraged from the audience, and that's when I made a fool of myself.

The man sitting next to me asked if there were really efficient alternative methods to gardening without pesticides.

I could have kept quiet and listened to the answers, but no way to expect such a wise behaviour from the incorrigible chatter-box I am!

I raised my arm and said :

" I've been told that spreading human hair around trunks and bushes keeps pests and bugs away ".

There was an awkward silence,  and then, a huge roar of laughter.

All eyes were on me and on the man who had asked the question.

I glanced at him…

Jeez!! He was as bald as an egg!!

Before I could apologize for my blunder, he replied without turning a hair (of course!) :

" I know that trick, but unfortunately, as you can see,  I have run out of stock ".

After such a hair-raising blunder, the only thing I wanted to do was to take a French leave, and that's what I did.

Next week there is a lecture in the same place about " how to kill weeds without killing your garden ". I'd like to attend it, but I'm quite sure to meet my bald victim there, so what should I do to clear my image?

Think twice before speaking? 

That's what my mum kept harping on when I was a child. I should have learned that valuable Lesson, but years after I'm still too talkative.

By the way, that must be the reason why Dearhubby enjoys so much when I blog ...Poor guy, that's the only moment he can hear the sound of silence!

Anyway, I'm expecting your tips to help me get out of that jam!

A PUMPKIN SOUP FOR FUN?

A few years ago, on Halloween I decided to treat my friends with a pumpkin soup baked directly inside the pumpkin.

The hardest part was to cut off its crown. Quite understandable, for as the saying goes, uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Afterwards, I just had to follow the instructions step by step.

The recipe was rated " as easy as ABC ", so no need to worry. Well, on second thought I hoped it would be " easier than a pie ", cause for poor cooks like me, making a pie is anything but easy!

Anyway, once my pumpkin in the oven, I could get ready for my guests quietly. 

When it was time to put my creamy soup out of the oven, I pulled the oven door, once, twice, three times,...in vain! It did not open!!

Suddenly I caught sight of a red light flashing on and on. 

A look at the user manual was enough to send shivers along my spine!

Jeez, instead of setting the thermostat, I had selected the self-cleaning function, which meant the oven was locked for one hour!!

I had to face the facts : the situation was serious. No kidding, I was in the soup!!

No time to wallow in self-pity, my guests were ringing at the door.

The sound reminded me of the title of a novel by Hemingway " For whom the bell tolls ".

I opened the door, and said :

" Welcome to our Halloween party. Why not start with a trick? I have ruined the first course. Now for the treats, don't be scared, the main course and the dessert aren't home-made! ".

The tone was set, and in spite of the poor pumpkin turning into Joan of Arc in the oven, we had fun.

That's all for today, my sweet pumpkins!

LAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDICINE

First off, I must apologize, cause if there are doctors among you, what follows may hurt you, but, please, forgive me! Since what happened "some" years ago, I have eaten humble pie...and an apple a day to keep the doctor away (come on, I'm joking).

Quite true, anyway, that, when younger I didn't trust doctors that much. In my mind they were businessmen first and doctors second.

I even happened to speak ill of them, and that's the snag!

I should have weighed my words cause of eavesdroppers.

I was to regret not thinking twice before speaking…

One day, when I picked up Peter, my four-year-old son, at school, I noticed a red small spot on his forehead. I didn't really pay attention, cause I thought  a mosquito had bitten him during the afternoon nap.

But, one hour later he came into the kitchen with a black felt tip pen in his hand and told me that he had circled all the new spots (jeez!), but that now they were coming out so quickly that he couldn't keep up!

No doubt then, chicken pox was on its way, but to make sure I called for the paediatrician.

Hardy had he rung at the door when I heard a door slam and the sneaky noise of a bolt.

Gosh!! Peter had locked himself in the bathroom! 

Five minutes later I had to face the facts : my stick and carrot strategy to make him go out was totally vain!

Then, the paediatrician told me to let him manage, because he was used to frightened children.

Well, of course, he was! After all, he was a paediatrican, he had the know-how!

He knocked at the door and said :

" Hi, Peter. That's me, Doctor A. Mum has told me that you've got plenty of naughty itchy spots. If you get out, I'll give you something to get rid of them ".

A few seconds later, my son's resolute voice came through the door, and what we heard made me awfully uncomfortable.

" I won't go out ", he said, "Mummy often says that doctors are just quacks! ".

I was so ashamed that the only thing I could do was to laugh nervously.

When my son heard me laugh, he wanted to know why and opened the door slowly , came out and so, cleared up the awkward situation he had put me in!

Doctor A. was quick-witted. He looked at me and said :

" I don't share your opinion about doctors,  but what I know is that laughter is the best medicine".

And you? What do you think about doctors?

A TRIBUTE TO MY DOGS

           

Hello everybody,

This week I have cobbled just a short post, cause I'm on a pretty tight schedule.

Here in Cap Sizun, the very tip of Brittany, after countless rainy and foggy days, the weather's clearing, and according to the weathermen, we can expect a lull and the next few days shoul be sunnier.

Then, no time to spare indoors, cause in the garden the weeds and dead leaves are plotting a coup, and if I sit idly, they will rule the roost in no time. 

But before heading to the garden, I want to write a few lines about my dogs, cause Autumn is really the time of the year those two sweethearts deserve a tribute and a pep talk before facing the rough patch they will go through till Winter comes round the corner.

First off, the early days of October ring the bell for a visit to the groomer, which means standing still and steady on a grooming table for nearly two hours! Sheer torture for those two buoyant and playful fellows.

Even though I schedule the appointment sneakily, when D-day comes, instead of jumping joyfully into the car as they usually do, they haul themselves up onto the back seat with a lot of deep sighs, as if they knew where they are going to. A quick glance in the rear view mirror, and I immediately see sad eyes imploring for mercy.

Anyway, once in the salon, those two customers put on a brave face, and are as good as gold. 

So, kudos to them!
        
                                                

Once rid of that chore, what they just need is to frolic in the garden, but unfortunately that's when things go wrong...

The kick-off of Autumn means it's high time to beat the birds to berries and the wasps to the fruit, cause our garden is a real larder.

Of course, my two high-spirited tail waggers are thrilled to bits when harvest time comes, but their expectations is quickly dampened.

This is the season when their usual playground turns into an obstacle course.

When I pick up blueberries, my two helpful assistants rush into the shrubbery, and more often than not, we have to hurry back home and take tweezers to pull out thorns.

Then the sneaky apple trees take advantage of the slightest breeze to drop some apples on their heads and leave them flabbergasted and wondering where that damned sniper can be hiding.

If they run away from the orchard to avoid being knocked out, the huge oak trees take over and bombard them with a few score of acorns. Lighter than apples, but just like a machine-gun fire.

After such misfortune, they could withdraw and get shelter in the garden shed, but those brave guys want to watch my every move, for fear I should grapple with some mysterious attackers.

So, what's better to regain their composure than a little rolling in the grass in the shade of the chestnut tree ?

Ouch! No way to catch a break there, either!

Chestnut husks don't make a comfy mattress, unless you are a fakir!

Battle weary, they are about to resign from their yard boys' temp job, when the mischievous squirrel who has taken residence in the walnut tree start hopping from one branch to the other to tease them.

That's enough to boost their zest of life, and send them barking and jumping again.

Even though a whole Autumn day in the garden wear them out, the next morning those two brave guys are ready to put their lives at risk, just for Mum's sake!

So, hats off to my two furry babies!

And now, cheerio, dear readers, Mother Nature is calling (and fruit, dead leaves and weeds, as well).

Whether you call it Autumn or Fall, make the most of it, and don't forget :

                                       BE PERKY 

                                                 

HOW TO CHANGE A DUVET COVER QUICKLY AND EASILY

Do you know how to change a duvet cover quickly and easily?

Yes? Please, help me, then, cause I've tried all the tips and tricks I could find on the Net, and it aways ends up in the same way : a bundle of cloth on the bed (the duvet cover) and a bundle of nerves (me).

In my previous post I told you how I changed a harmless pencil dress into an oppressive straight-jacket.

Well,  I had the same kind of nightmarish experience not long ago while changing the duvet cover…

Why on earth did I think that holding the duvet tight against me and slipping with it into the cover would be the perfect quick fix?

I guess sometimes my inner loony gets the upper hand.

So, I laid the cover on the bed, grabbed the upper corners of the duvet and started crawling inside the cover.

Unfortunately, it turned out not to be a bed of roses, cause a few second later I was stuck in the darkness, still clutching the precious corners, but unable to find my way in or out!

The more I wriggled, the more I got entangled into my "fabric jail".

I strove to stand up, and when I was about to succeed, Canaille, my nosy dog, pawed into the bedroom, didn't recognize me, cause I looked like an under cover agent (sorry, I couldn't resist that naughty pun),and jumped on me!

Boom! I was back to square one : lying lost in the damn duvet cover!

I could not do anything but keep under cover till Dearhubby alerted by Canaille's barkings came and helped me out.

So, if the saying " As you make your bed, so you must lie in it " is true, now you can easily realize how welcome and helpful you tips and tricks will be!!

WHY I HATE FITTING-ROOMS

Have you ever been trapped in a fitting-room?

Well, it happened to me a while ago and I am not ready to visit one of those awful places again!

Actually, fitting-rooms are one of my pet-hate. I hate their merciless mirrors, their deceiving lights, and, above all, their curtains that never close all the way so anybody can see me trying to wriggle into too-tight clothes.

Anyway, last Summer I wanted to buy a dress and I couldn't avoid a trip to the nearby shop fitting-room.

So, there I was, all in a sweat, fed up and eager to flee that gruesome scene of self-torture.

I slipped clumsily into a pencil dress, and what was to happen happened…

I had forgotten to unzip it properly and it turned into a straight jacket in a wink : my head was half-stuck in the neckline and my arms were trapped in that awful " cigarette case "!

I tried to call for help. In vain! Sure, that dress was good value for money, cause, even though the zip was not that convenient, the fabric was pretty thick and muffled my voice totally!

After useless calls, I decided to shriek.

Bingo! A few seconds later I could feel the shop-assistant's helpful hand zip the dress down!!

Just a glance at myself was enough to crown my misfortune : tousled hair, red cheeks marked by the dress neckline, and my mouth wide open to take my breath back.

What a mortifying sight!

Then, guess what!

I was feeling so grateful to the shop-assistant for helping me to wriggle out of the dress that I bought it, even though it did not fit me like a glove, let alone like a dress.

Now, I guess you understand why I hate fitting-rooms. What about you?