HOW TO LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE ALL THROUGHOUT THE YEAR

Are you ready to jump on board 2019?

This week to help you to navigate the rolling waves of this new year safely and cheefully, I have written a short post about how to look on the bright side (and for my English-Learning readers, learn a few idioms, as well).

In the small hours of January 1st, I'll take a feather duster and blow away the cobwebs.

Then, come rain or shine, I'll wear rose-coloured glasses, so I'll forget the saying " it never rains, but it pours " and just remember that every cloud has a silver lining.

Yet, if the weather turns really foul and things seem to keep falling, I'll hang in there and my motto will be that " when life gives you lemons, make lemonade ".

All that will help me to keep upbeat all throughout the twelve months to come, but what will send me on cloud nine is a skyrocketing number of readers on my blog, so...it's up to you!

In the meantime, I wish you a smashing New Year and I hope everything will come roses for you and all the people you love!

UNUSUAL WISHLIST

Not much time this week to post a short story, so here is Canaille's special request to Santa Claus.

Dear Santa,

My name is Canaille.

 I'm an English Springer Spaniel, and Mum says I do justice to my breed, cause I often behave like a cheeky monkey. (Quite normal, cause that's the translation of my name in English).

Yet, last September I turned 11 and now I have a good head on my shoulders. So, every day, to make up for my silly antics, I help Mum and  Dad with household chores. I'm not sure they realize how helpful I am, but never mind.

I know you are a busy guy, so I won't be demanding.

No need to move heaven and earth to bring me a magical key to open the treats drawer. There is one and only key and it belongs to Daddy.

And anyway, it's of no use any more, cause now that damned drawer is empty.

Yes, dear Santa, as empty as my stomach!

Have I been on a binge eating? Nope, and that's why I am rather keyed up, cause that "food crisis" is none of my doing!

Who's responsible, then? The vet, dear Santa!

Last time Mum took me to his place, he asked me to climb onto the weighing scales and I obeyed,  cause I am a good boy.

His gasps made me think he was calling for an encore, so I climbed onto the scales again. 

That's when the judge, oops sorry, I mean the vet, sentenced me to a 

 no-treat month! Can you imagine that, dear Santa, thirty days without the least sweet to enjoy!

And the worst of it is that Mum agreed. I guess she is under the vet's thumb, poor girl!

So, this year, dear Santa, just one thing on my wishlist :

Could you put  new weighing scales under the tree of the vet's surgery, cause you see, even one of the vet's  patient agreed with me, the scales must be broken!

I will be asleep when you visit on Christmas Eve, so please say hello to the reindeers.

By the way, thank you for the comfy basket you gave me last year.When I curl up in it, I make sweet dreams!

And Merry Christmas to my Mum's readers!

RECIPE FOR A MOUTH-WATERING XMAS TREE

Early December I started planning for Xmas and its main attraction : the Xmas tree.

As I was fed up with all the glittering balls and tinsel garlands I had been hanging on years after years, I decided to bring in a change and make a mouth-watering Xmas tree.

For once it wouldn't be just eyed greedily, but " harvested " cheerfully!

All throughout the countdown to December 24, there are plenty of Xmas markets around, so it didn't take me long to get beautifully wrapped candy canes and sweet-smelling treats.

Waow, this year my Xmas tree would be the cream of the crop!

Then, I thought that it would look tastier if I added a few touches of my own, and that's when things went wrong!

I followed step by step a tuto on how to prepare a popcorn garland, and as I am a bit of a klutz, it took me the whole afternoon to make it, but unfortunately...just half-an-hour to munch it!

Was I feeling guilty afterwards? Guilty, not really, but heavy, for sure.

Believe me, digesting a one meter crunchy popcorn garland is not that easy!

The day after, to make up for my pre-Xmas binge eating, I baked a dozen gingerbread men and then hung them immediately on the Xmas tree.

I resisted their sweet eyes and sugary smiles, and went to bed with a sense of accomplishment.

Too good to be true! Yesterday when I got downstairs, the Xmas tree was lying on the floor and all the gingerbread men had taken a French leave!

My dog was curled up in his basket and his guilty eyes and the gingerbread crumbs on his nose and all around let me think that if the saying " Like father, like son " is true, then " Like owner, like dog " must be true, too!

Well, there are still some days left before Xmas, so I won't give up, cause I am a tough cookie.

Cookie? A delicious decoration for my Xmas tree! Here is the link for a recipe. Enjoy and share.

http://www.sweet2eatbaking.com/speculoos-christmas-decoration-cookies-recipe/

HOW THE WORD OF MOUTH BOOSTED MY BLOG

Some years ago when I started my blog, my relatives and my friends were my only readers. I was a newbie in the blogosphere and I didn't know how to boost my blog traffic.

Fortunately one year later, thanks to my early "supporters" and their enthusiastic and efficient word of mouth, a journalist of the local newspaper heard about me and came to my place to interview me. 

She wanted to know who was that French girl hiding under the pseudo of "Dany the Perky Busy Bee" and blogging from the very tip of Brittany.

When she arrived, she was white as a ghost, and, just for fun, I was about to ask her if she was a ghost writer, but she looked so pale that I thought my joke wouldn't be a good icebreaker.

She apologized for being out of breath, and told me she was feeling dizzy and sweaty because she had been cycling all the long steep road to my place.

I offered a seat and a cup of tea, but she refused and said that the only thing she needed when she was feeling that way was to lie down on a cold surface and close her eyes for a while.

Then, before I could say Jack Robinson, there she was, lying on the tiled entrance floor, and thats' when the doorbell rang!

When I opened the door, the postman's smile froze in a wink. He stared at me and at the journalist lying on the floor as if he was on a crime scene.

No way to count on him for further investigation, cause he dropped my parcel and hurried away.

Had he read too many detective novels and was he scared of suffering the same fate as embarrassing witnesses? Did he spread the word about a weird blogger living in the town?

I really don't know, but who profited that fake crime?

You and me, cause the journalist recovered and thanks to her sweet words about my blog in the local paper and perhaps thanks also to the poor postman,  nearly four years later I'm still on line and sharing my adventures with all of you!

So,  for tuning in to my blog every week :

THE ADVENTURES OF A POOR KLUTZ

I'm a chronic klutz, I mean, I stumble, drop or spill things at least every single day.

I'm so clumsy that I could trip over my own shadow, and the expression " to be all thumbs " really fits me like a glove (a special one with sheathes only for thumbs, of course!).

Well, to be all thumbs can be useful for hitchhiking or gardening (as long as all those thumbs are green), but otherwise it can turn everyday life into an obstacle course!

After years of stubbing my toes on any and everything, I know the best ointment and band-aids like the back of my hand (even if , due to my clumsiness, the back of my hand is often scratched , bruised or burnt).

Dropping glasses don't upset me any more, cause, thanks to years of field training I master the art of picking up the splinters without snipping off my fingers, or at least just slightly.

Spilling wine, coffee or chocolate on a spotless tablecloth has taught me that most of the time it's no use crying over spilled milk... or any other liquid, either.

I say " most of the time ", cause once I pretended to be skillful, but a single wrong move and I spilled the beans, and the coffee, as well…

We had guests at home and I had managed to serve all the meal quite smoothly. 

At coffee time I still had everything under control : really a red-letter day!

I was about to pour coffee into the cups when a friend asked me about the brand of my coffee pot.

I guess I was so focused on concealing my clumsiness that suddenly my mind went blank. No way to remember the name!!

Who, then, said the brand is often written on the bottom?? No idea!

The only thing I can remember was my arm suddenly getting out of control and turning the coffee pot upside down to check the brand, and then...my shoes soaking up all the hot beverage!!!

You see, I'm so clumsy that when it comes to ending up a blogpost, I always stumble over ... words, and today no change, so I hope you will forgive my awkward end! Thanks in advance!

THE FEAR OF GROWING OLD

Wakie-wakie, time to wake up, this week something new on my blog!

A guess the word game!

Arrange the letters below and find the scrambled word :

P-B-H-I-A-O-G-E-A-R-S-C-O

A clue? It's a trendy disease.

Can't make it?

Well, here's a poem by Jenny Joseph that will keep you away from that naughty disease :

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

One more clue? The title is a good definition of the scrambled word.

Now turn on the booster and cram my mailbox with your answers

perkybusybee@gmail.com

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!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

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!