Abused!

I'm being bullied. I mentioned to the kittens that fresh air would do them good but as I type they are meowing sadly, sitting just outside the kitchen window on Santa's strategically-placed sleigh. Using our Christmas decorations against us is really low. (Don't judge me, it's still only January.) Beneath the sleigh lurk 9 chickens. They clearly can't be arsed to move a bit of snow to find a frozen worm. They're probably thinking 'Where's that woman with the bad hair do and bushy eyebrows? We want corn.'

Yesterday the Entrepreneur called to say she couldn't visit for the weekend as planned. She has taken a bit of a 'turn' and needs to see a doctor. A wonderful friend, a businesswoman, a sportswoman, I'd arranged for her to shoot with a gang of farmer friends this weekend. She would have enjoyed their banter, held her own. I want her pronounced well immediately. Back to feeling herself; creative, ferocious and strong.

Her rushed words over a poor mobile connection reminded me to slow down. I was getting my proverbial knickers in a twist about the snow, house mess, the kids, my book. IT DOESN'T REALLY MATTER, DOES IT?

I've decided to try something; I'm going to carry a little bottle of water with me and every time something annoys, frustrates or attempts to screw up my plans, I am going to take a sip of water. In my grumpy state I could drink my body weight each day.

I'm on day three of no alcohol too. My body has been abused over Christmas, (don't call the police, I did the abusing) so I think a month off will do me good and maybe lose me some poundage!

Lou
xx

Kittens

We got two rescue kittens on Christmas Eve. Brothers, they were abandoned, left to fend for themselves in a cardboard box. We love them, they are our new babies. The chickens are less in love. Tiger-like, low to the ground, Benny and Tabby hunt together. They stalk and chase and upset chickens scatter. I'm assured they couldn't bring one down so I leave the hunters to their delusion.

We thought we'd lost both of them yesterday. A friend came to visit with a little gun dog. Well trained, he didn't bark or attack, he just give the kittens a nasty look. Hours later, using strong torches, we found them in the attic barn. Fluffy and sad.

When the children go to sleep, husband and I watch the evening show. Up the curtains, round the sofa, tiny and ferocious, our kittens charge at one another intent on dangerous play then flop to sleep on us. I'm pleased we found them, our house is nicer than a cardboard box.